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thethotthatbreathes · 2 months

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The Judge

Summary: He was the Judge.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cruelty, foul language, pregnancy, Smut, Pregnant sex, fluffy.

Author's Note: In this sequel, the perspective shifts mainly to Turpin's point of view, but it occasionally alternates between the reader's perspective and Turpin's. And as mentioned in the first chapter, Turpin is portrayed as somewhat softer in this story. While he still maintains his intimidating demeanor, there is a part of him that cares for the reader, even if he is reluctant to admit it.

First part here

You entered the room, feeling exhausted after a long day, and your gaze landed on your husband, who was sitting on the bed, engrossed in a book. He looked so ordinary and handsome at that moment, with his glasses perched on his nose as he read, the white shirt open revealing a bit of his chest, that it was impossible not to admire him for a moment.

But as you took a step closer, the pain in your feet became almost unbearable, and you found yourself sinking into the mattress, half lying with your back against the headboard of the bed. The weight of your unborn child still felt heavy, adding to your exhaustion.

Turpin looked up from the book, furrowing his brow in concern as he noticed your discomfort. "What's wrong?" he asked, his tone softer than usual.

You hesitated, feeling a bit shy to admit, "My feet are hurting."

To your surprise, Turpin immediately set aside the book and glasses before getting out of bed, sitting beside you. He gently placed your feet in his lap, his hands skillfully untying your shoes and checking for signs of injury on the swollen feet.

Feeling embarrassed by the intimacy of the moment, you tried to pull your feet away from his lap, but Turpin's piercing gaze and the gruff command to stay still froze you in place.

You felt a mix of confusion and fear as Turpin examined your feet. Then, to your surprise, he began massaging one of them, his touch surprisingly gentle and soothing.

But when you squirmed and let out a giggle from the ticklish sensation, he abruptly stopped, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

Feeling a blush rise to your cheeks, you explained, "I'm sorry, my feet are too ticklish."

Turpin's gaze softened, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he reached for your other foot. "Don't apologize," he murmured, his voice surprisingly tender. "I don't mind."

And as he resumed the massage, you couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected kindness and warmth of your husband's touch. Despite his reputation as a stern and imposing figure, there was a softer side to him that you had never seen before.

What you found very strange, you couldn't understand why your husband, a man known for his cruelty and indifference, suddenly showed such unexpected kindness towards you. It wasn't like him to be so attentive, so caring, especially when it came to your well-being.

You then questioned him, asking if he was feeling unwell, but before you could insist further, Turpin's expression turned sour, his behavior reverting to his usual coldness. He dropped your feet abruptly, making you flinch at the sudden change in his demeanor.

"I'm not 'unwell'," he growled, his voice filled with annoyance. "I was just trying to stop your annoying whining about your swollen feet."

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of guilt for upsetting him. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice almost inaudible.

But your husband paid no attention to your apology, his gaze hardening as he rose from the bed. "Get up and undress," he ordered, his tone commanding and authoritative. "I want to fuck you tonight."

You obeyed, although it took you a moment to compose yourself and get up from the bed, your swollen belly making the movements more difficult than usual. Turpin watched you impatiently, his eyes burning with desire as he waited for you to comply with his demands while he himself removed his pants and underwear, kicking them aside before lying on the bed, and he couldn't help but feel a wave of anticipation coursing through his body. His desire for you burned hot and fierce, igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole.

Meanwhile, you finished undressing, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement fluttering in the pit of your stomach. Your swollen belly made movement more difficult, but you pushed through, determined to please Turpin and satisfy his desires.

As you approached the bed, Turpin waved you over, his gaze dark with desire as he watched you with hungry eyes. With a trembling breath, you straddled him, positioning yourself carefully as you impaled yourself on him.

He groaned as he felt your tightness enveloping him, his breath catching in his throat as you took him deep inside you. The sensation was intoxicating, overwhelming him with a wave of pleasure unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

Your weight pressed him into the mattress, your pregnant form adding an extra layer of intensity to the encounter. Turpin let out a low grunt of satisfaction, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he let you set the pace.

And you did, moving your hips in a slow, rhythmic motion that drove him crazy with desire. Turpin's gaze remained on your bouncing breasts, his mouth watered at the sight, he wanted to squeeze them but he knew your breasts were sore, you always complained about that when you thought Turpin wasn't listening, so he held back.

As you rocked your hips against his, the bed creaked beneath you, the sound mingling with the soft moans escaping your lips. Turpin's hands roamed your body, avoiding touching your breasts to avoid hurting them, something you didn't notice, as he guided you with specialized precision.

"Harder," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you, all of you."

You eagerly complied, picking up the pace as you rocked against him, the friction sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Turpin's grip on your hips tightened, his nails digging into your skin as he urged you on.

"Yes, just like that," he groaned, his breath becoming ragged as he lost himself in the pleasure of your touch. "Just like that."

But suddenly you hesitated, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over you as you averted your gaze from Turpin. His forehead furrowed in confusion and he grunted, questioning what was wrong. You stammered, struggling to find words to explain, before finally admitting that you were tired - that the weight of your heavy belly was making your movements difficult.

Expecting your husband to lash out in anger, you braced yourself for the inevitable reaction. But to your surprise, he surprised you, taking your hand and kissing your fingers tenderly. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You don't have to strain yourself. I'll take care of everything."

You looked at him with surprise, a spark of warmth blossoming inside you at his unexpected kindness. It was moments like these that made you wonder if there was more to your husband than met the eye, if beneath his cold exterior there was a heart capable of love and compassion.

His expression softened as he looked at you, his eyes full of a tenderness you had never seen before. "Let me do all the work now," he offered, his voice a comforting murmur. "Just relax and enjoy."

With that, Turpin rose from the bed, gently spinning you both so that he was on top now. You watched him with a mixture of admiration and anticipation as he positioned himself between your legs, his touch surprisingly gentle as he caressed your swollen belly.

And as he began to move with slow, deliberate motions, you allowed yourself to surrender to the pleasure of his touch, losing yourself in the warmth of his embrace. Despite the darkness that surrounded the two of you, in that moment, there was only the two of you, bound by the fragile thread of shared desire and longing.

As Turpin's movements grew more intense, you clung to him desperately, digging your nails into his back as you sought release. He rested one arm near your head, his movements still rhythmic and controlled as he continued to gaze at the swollen belly where the unborn child lay. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his features as he pondered aloud, "Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?"

Instead of responding immediately, you hesitated, a slight furrow marring your features as you questioned, "What do you want it to be?"

Turpin didn't hesitate, gripping the sheets tighter beside your head as he stated with conviction, "A boy. I need a boy."

His words hung heavily in the air, laden with the weight of his expectations and desires. You couldn't help but feel a pang of discomfort at his unwavering insistence on the child's gender.

"Why does it have to be a boy?" you ventured cautiously, your voice almost a whisper.

Turpin's gaze turned steely, his jaw tightening as he replied, "I need a legitimate heir to continue my lineage. I don't need girls, just boys."

The coldness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, a stark reminder of the relentless determination he hid beneath his composed exterior. Turpin was a man driven by ambition and power, willing to do whatever it took to achieve his goals.

As he tightened his grip on the sheets even further, his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made you feel small and insignificant. "Have a boy," he commanded, his voice fulled with the authority of a judge. "I won't accept anything else. Girls are useless to me."

The weight of his expectations pressed down on you, suffocating and oppressive. You knew your husband was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted and would stop at nothing to ensure his desires were fulfilled.

But as he continued to ramble about his desire for a male heir, his words dripping with disdain for girls, you felt a wave of courage welling up within you. With a sudden burst of determination, you reached out and grasped his face, forcing him to look at you.

"You're wrong," you stated firmly, your voice steady despite your racing heart. "Girls are not useless. And I don't care if our baby is a girl or a boy."

Turpin frowned angrily at your defiance, furrowing his brows in frustration at your challenge. How dare you contradict him? He reached for your hand resting on his cheek with the intention of pushing it away, but halted as you suddenly gazed deeply into him, your face softening as you suddenly remarked how beautiful his eyes were, the shade of brown the most beautiful you had ever seen.

Turpin froze at your unexpected praise, his anger momentarily forgotten as he looked at you in disbelief. His eyes, usually cold and distant, softened at your words, a glimmer of vulnerability shining in his features.

"Really?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, almost hesitant.

You nodded, a warm smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Absolutely," you replied, reaching out your other hand to gently trace the contours of his face with the tips of your fingers. "And you know what else I think?"

Turpin's heart quickened with anticipation as he waited for your response, his gaze locked on yours in a moment of shared intimacy.

"I also think your nose is beautiful," you continued, your voice full of sincerity. "It's big and strong, just like you. And I like that."

Turpin was stunned by your words, his mind flashing back to the days of his childhood when his peers mercilessly teased him because of his prominent nose. He had always been ashamed of it, seeing it as a flaw that marked him as different from others.

But your words touched something deep within him, a long-buried feeling of self-worth and acceptance. For the first time in his life, someone saw beauty in the feature that had plagued him with insecurities for so long.

"You... you think my nose is beautiful?" Turpin repeated, his voice almost a whisper, his disbelief evident in his expression.

You nodded, your eyes shining with sincerity as you affirmed, "Yes, I do. It's a part of what makes you who you are, and I wouldn't change it for anything."

Turpin's heart swelled with emotion at your words, a sense of warmth flooding him as he realized that you accepted him, flaws and all. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for him, a glimpse of the man beneath the facade of power and authority.

You continued, taking Turpin's hand and pressing it against your belly, feeling the warmth of his touch against your skin. "This baby," you said softly, "will be a part of us both. It will carry a piece of you and a piece of me, and it will be beautiful, regardless of its gender."

Turpin's eyes softened as he looked down at your belly, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your skin. "Yes," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. "Our child will be beautiful, just like its mother."

You smiled at his words, feeling a wave of warmth flooding you with his unexpected tenderness. "And maybe," you teased playfully, "the baby will have your eyes, or your nose. Or perhaps it will be big and strong like its father."

Turpin chuckled softly at your teasing, his eyes shining with affection as he added, "Or delicate and small like its mother."

You grin at his response, feeling a sense of happiness blooming within you at the thought of the life growing inside you. "Promise me," you say, your voice serious now, "that you will love our baby, no matter what."

Turpin's expression softened as he met your gaze, his eyes full of sincerity as he replied, "I... I promise. I will love our child with all my heart, whether it's a boy or a girl."

You smiled at his words, feeling a sense of relief washing over you with his sincere promise. "Thank you," you whispered, leaning in to place a kiss on his lips.

Turpin eagerly returned the kiss, his arms enveloping you in a tight embrace as he whispered against your lips, "As long as our baby has your smile, I will love him with all my heart. Nothing else matters."

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of your partner, you felt a sense of peace washing over you. Despite the uncertainties and challenges that lay ahead, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything that came your way. And for now, that was all that truly mattered.

Days later, things seemed relatively calm between you and Judge Turpin. His usual growls and cruelty were noticeably absent, and you felt strangely drawn to this new gentle side of your husband. Intrigued by the change in his behavior, you decided to visit him at the courthouse that day.

As you entered his office, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness creeping over you. You had never been in a courtroom before, and the imposing atmosphere made you feel out of place. But you pushed aside your apprehensions, determined to see your husband in his workplace.

However, your presence seemed to infuriate Turpin. His forehead creased with anger as he looked at you from behind his desk, his dark eyes full of suspicion. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice sharp and authoritative.

You hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt at having angered him. "I... I missed you," you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Turpin froze at your words, his anger momentarily forgotten as he stared at you in disbelief. His eyes softened with a mixture of surprise and vulnerability, a flicker of emotion crossing his features.

"You missed me?" he repeated, his voice almost a whisper, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

You nodded, a faint blush coloring your cheeks as you confessed, "Yes, I missed you. I wanted to see you, to be near you."

His expression softened at your words, a sense of warmth flooding over him as he realized that you sought him out because you missed him. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for him, a glimpse of the man beneath the facade of power and authority.

But as quickly as it came, Turpin's anger returned, his features hardening as he shook his head, frustrated. "You shouldn't have come here," he growled, his voice filled with annoyance. "It's not safe for you to be out on the streets, especially in your condition."

You bit your lip, feeling a twinge of guilt for having upset him. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice almost inaudible.

But he paid no attention to your apology; instead, he gestured for you to come closer, his gaze full of a dark intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "Since you're here," he murmured softly, "I might as well make good use of it."

Confusion clouded your mind as you tried to decipher his enigmatic words. But before you could question him further, Turpin abruptly tossed aside his judge's wig and began to undo his robe with a sense of urgency.

You watched in stunned silence as Turpin revealed himself, his demeanor shifting from stern judge to something altogether more primal and authoritative. The sight of his exposed flesh sent a wave of heat through you, awakening something deep within you that you couldn't quite comprehend.

But when Turpin noticed that you were still standing there, frozen in place by the sudden turn of events, he impatiently growled, ordering you to obey. Without hesitation, you dropped to your knees as he commanded, your heart pounding in your chest as you prepared for what was to come.

And as he continued to undress, revealing his half-hard penis, a surge of anticipation coursed through you. You knew exactly what he wanted, and you were more than willing to comply with his desires.

He reached out, cupping your chin and guiding your mouth towards him, his touch surprisingly gentle as he pushed his member past your lips. You relaxed your throat and jaw, as Turpin had taught you, allowing him to use your mouth as he pleased.

Turpin threw his head back in ecstasy, his groans filling the room as he thrust his hips forward, driving his cock deeper into your mouth. The sound of his balls slapping against your chin with each movement only fueled his desire further, spurring him on to greater heights of pleasure.

You gripped his legs for support, steadying yourself as he used you for his own satisfaction. His hands held your head in place, controlling the pace and intensity of his thrusts as he lost himself in the pleasure of your mouth.

"Mmm, yes," he groaned, his voice rough with desire. "That's it, my dear. Suck me like the obedient little whore you are."

His words sent a shiver of excitement coursing through you, fueling your own arousal as you eagerly fulfilled his demands. You bobbed your head up and down on his shaft, taking him deeper with each pass, eager to please him and satisfy his desires.

But then the sudden creak of the office door opening caused a brief moment of interruption. However, Turpin didn't even bother to stop or open his eyes, focusing only on the pleasure he was receiving.

"S-sorry to interrupt, sir," Beadle's voice sounded, hesitantly entering the room. "But the next case is about to begin. We should head to the courtroom."

Turpin's forehead furrowed with annoyance at the interruption, his patience wearing thin. "I'm busy, Beadle," he growled, his voice low and threatening. "Tell them to wait."

"But sir,," Beadle persisted, his tone filled with urgency. "the court has already been delayed once this week. We cannot afford to postpone proceedings any further."

Turpin's eyes flashed with anger, his grip tightening on your head as he shot Beadle a warning glare. "I said I'm busy," he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. "Do not dare question me, Beadle, or the next to be hanged will be you!"

Beadle recoiled at Turpin's outburst, fear evident in his eyes as he backed away from the judge. "Y-yes, sir," he stammered, his voice trembling with apprehension. "I... I'll inform them that the case will be delayed."

Turpin nodded in satisfaction, his attention returning to you as Beadle hastily exited, leaving the two of you alone once again. "That's better," Turpin murmured, his tone softening slightly as he resumed his previous activities. "Now, where were we? Ah yes... Mmm."

He resumed his thrusts, though more slowly now, savoring the sensation of being enveloped by your warmth. With his eyes half-closed, he took in the sight of you, your lips wrapped around him, your cleavage on display in the low-cut dress you were wearing. Despite his anger and frustration moments ago, he couldn't deny the intoxicating allure you held over him in this moment.

Turpin stroked your head gently, his touch surprisingly tender as he announced that he was about to climax. "Take every drop of me," he commanded, his voice rough with desire.

You obeyed without hesitation, eager to please him and satisfy his desires. As he released into your mouth, you eagerly took him in, swallowing every drop of him as he moaned in pleasure.

His grip tightened on your head, keeping you still for a moment longer before finally releasing you. With a satisfied sigh, he carefully lifted you up, one hand protectively supporting your belly to bear the weight of your unborn child.

Setting you down gently in his chair, Turpin began to redress himself, the familiar weight of the judge's robe settling over his shoulders once more. He turned away from you, pretending not to notice as you rifled through his belongings.

But when he turned back to look, he couldn't help but notice the sight that greeted him. You were wearing his judge's wig, which he had discarded earlier, the ridiculous contraption nearly swallowing your head in a comical fashion. He suppressed a smile at the sight of the wig looking utterly absurd on you. But he knew he couldn't let you off so easily, not after you had disobeyed his orders and ventured off on your own.

His expression hardened as he pretended to be angry, his voice cold and authoritative as he spoke. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his eyes gleaming with disapproval.

You blushed furiously, realizing that you had been caught red-handed. "I... I'm sorry," you stammered, your voice trembling with embarrassment. "I was just... curious."

He reached out and took the wig back from you, his movements precise and controlled. Suppressing his amusement at the sight of you in the ridiculous contraption, he put the wig back on his own head with a sense of authority, straightening it out with meticulous care.

"That wig is not a toy," he chastised, his voice cold and authoritative. "It is an important symbol of my position and authority. You should treat it with respect."

Though he hated the wig, inwardly thinking it ridiculous, Turpin maintained his stern facade as he spoke. "I trust you understand," he added, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You nodded meekly, feeling a sense of embarrassment wash over you at having been caught playing with something that clearly held significance for Turpin. "Yes, I understand," you murmured, your cheeks burning with shame.

Turpin's expression softened slightly at your contrite response, though he made no effort to show it. Instead, he informed you that he would send one of the police officers to accompany you back to the carriage and home, ensuring your safety.

Taking your hand in his, Turpin led you out of the office, his grip firm and reassuring. He waved to one of the police officers, instructing him to take you safely home.

The policeman complied, offering you his arm and leading you away from Turpin's office. As you disappeared from sight with the policeman, Turpin allowed himself a small smile, the memory of you in his wig bringing a hint of amusement to his otherwise stern countenance.

It was a ridiculous sight, to be sure, but perhaps someday he would let you put on the wig again, just for a few good laughs. For now, though, there were more pressing matters at hand.

Turpin walked towards the courtroom, his expression turning cold as he climbed into his chair. "Bring forth the accused," he commanded, his voice ringing with authority.

As the defendant was brought before him, Turpin's gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You stand accused of theft and fraud," he declared, his voice cold and unforgiving. "How do you plead?"

The next day, Judge decided to take a well-deserved day off. He instructed everyone, including you, to leave him alone and retreated to his office, seeking solitude amidst the chaos of his daily life. As he settled into his chair, he poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the sunlight that streamed through the window.

Turpin lit a cigar, the smoke curling around him as he leaned back in his chair, the stress of his responsibilities melting away with each puff. He immersed himself in the stack of court documents that awaited his attention, his brow furrowing in concentration as he reviewed case after case.

But as the afternoon wore on, Turpin found himself growing restless. Despite his best efforts to relax, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him. He took another drag from his cigar, the bitter taste lingering on his tongue as he pondered his next move.

Suddenly, the sound of the office door slamming open startled him out of his reverie. Turpin's eyes narrowed with irritation as he glanced up, ready to reprimand whoever had dared to interrupt his solitude.

But his anger melted away in an instant as he caught sight of you, your pregnant form waddling into the room with a notebook clutched tightly in your hands. There was a spark of excitement in your eyes, and Turpin couldn't help but feel a flicker of curiosity at your unexpected appearance.

"What do you want?" he growled, his voice low and gravelly, though there was a hint of warmth beneath the rough exterior.

You practically shoved the notebook in his face, your words tumbling out in a rush of excitement. "Look, look!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with enthusiasm. "I managed to write your name all by myself!"

Turpin raised an eyebrow in surprise, his gaze flicking down to the notebook in your hands. He noticed your uneven handwriting, the letters scrawled across the page with a shaky hand. But despite its imperfections, there was a sense of pride shining in your eyes, and Turpin couldn't help but feel a swell of emotion at the sight.

He leaned forward, squinting at the page as he read the name written there: "Richard Tupin." But as his eyes lingered on the misspelled name, he couldn't help but notice that the letter "R" was missing from "Turpin."

He pointed it out, his tone relentless as he questioned your mistake. "You forgot the 'R,'" he stated, his voice gruff with disapproval.

You withered under his scrutiny, your excitement fading as you realized your error. Turpin watched you closely, a pang of guilt tugging at his conscience at the sight of your crestfallen expression.

But before he could dwell on it further, he found himself trying to cheer you up, his words stumbling out in an awkward attempt to ease your disappointment. "The rest is right," he muttered, his voice softer now. "You just forgot the 'R.' It's not a big deal."

But you remained sad, your shoulders slumping as you stared down at the floor. Turpin hesitated, unsure of what to do next, before finally blurting out, "You did good."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. And he watched as your eyes lit up like a lamp, a wide smile spreading across your face at his unexpected praise.

Turpin relaxed slightly at the sight, a sense of warmth flooding through him at the realization that he had managed to make you happy. But of course, he couldn't let you see his softer side so easily.

He straightened up in his chair, adopting a stern expression as he pretended to be mad at you. "But don't let it happen again," he admonished, in a stern tone.

You nodded eagerly, your smile still in place as you thanked him profusely for his kind words. Turpin waved you off dismissively, though a small part of him couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having made you smile.

He stubbed out his cigar, knowing that the smoke was harmful to pregnant women. He motioned for you to come sit on his lap, and you did so, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort as he wrapped his arms around you. Turpin held you close, his touch surprisingly gentle as he took his pen and instructed you to write his name again in the notebook.

You nodded eagerly, eager to please him and prove that you could do better this time. As you picked up the pen, you felt a surge of determination coursing through you, determined to make him proud.

You focused intently on the task at hand, your tongue poking out in concentration as you carefully formed each letter. Turpin watched you closely, his gaze softening as he observed your efforts.

As you finished writing, you handed the notebook back to Turpin, a sense of pride swelling within you at your accomplishment. He examined your work closely, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he noticed that you hadn't forgotten the letter "R" this time. But as he looked closer, he shook his head in mock disappointment.

"You forgot something," he teased, his voice filled with amusement.

You looked at him curiously, unsure of what he meant. Turpin brushed a lock of hair out of your face, his touch gentle and reassuring as he explained, "My full name is actually Richard William Turpin."

You gasped in surprise, your eyes widening in astonishment. "William?" you repeated, your voice filled with curiosity.

Turpin nodded, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he explained further. "Yes, William," he confirmed, his tone soft and affectionate. "It's a family name, passed down through the generations."

You listened intently as Turpin shared this piece of personal information with you, feeling a sense of warmth blooming within you at the intimacy of the moment. Despite his reputation as a stern and imposing figure, there was a softer side to him that you found yourself drawn to.

Turpin leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Now you know my secret. Will you keep it safe for me?"

You nodded eagerly, a smile spreading across your face as you leaned into his touch. "Of course, William," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "Your secret is safe with me."

Turpin smiled at your words, a sense of contentment washing over him at the realization that he could trust you with his innermost thoughts and feelings. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of your embrace, he felt a sense of peace that he hadn't experienced in a long time.

And as the two of you sat there together, lost in each other's arms, Turpin couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope for the future. Despite the darkness that surrounded him, there was light to be found in your love, illuminating even the darkest corners of his soul.

Later that night Turpin gently woke in the dead of night, the darkness enveloping his opulent bedroom like a shroud. Confusion clouded his mind as he struggled to understand why he had been roused from his slumber.

Soft sighs and muted moans echoed through the room, drawing his attention to your form beside him. His eyes narrowed as he watched you squirming, your face contorted in pleasure, a hand hidden beneath your nightgown, exploring forbidden territory.

Turpin's blood ran cold as the realization dawned on him. How dare you? How dare you indulge in such lewd behavior without his permission? Your body belonged to him and him alone, and the thought of you pleasuring yourself without his consent filled him with a white-hot rage.

Turpin stood up in bed, his towering form casting a menacing shadow over you as he loomed above. The sudden movement alerted you, and you opened your eyes, freezing in fear as you saw the fury burning in his gaze.

"Filthy whore," Turpin spat, his baritone voice dripping with disdain. "How dare you?"

Your heart raced as he grabbed your wrist, his grip like a vice as he pulled your hand away from your own body. You winced at the pain, tears welling up in your eyes as you trembled under his furious gaze.

"I-I'm sorry," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I just didn't want to disturb your sleep..."

Turpin's expression softened slightly at your apology, but his anger still simmered beneath the surface. "You know better than to touch yourself without my permission," he growled, his tone unforgiving. "You are mine, and your body belongs to me."

You nodded frantically, tears streaming down your cheeks as you begged for forgiveness. "I know, I know," you sobbed, your voice choked with emotion. "Please, I'm sorry..."

But Turpin didn't seem satisfied with your apology. He continued to berate you, calling you a depraved whore as you cowered before him. Your heart sank as his words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling small and insignificant in his presence.

"Shut up," he snapped, cutting off your pleas for mercy. "If that's what you wanted, then that's what you'll get."

With a rough motion, Turpin released your wrist, leaving you shaking with fear as you watched him. But instead of lashing out further, he surprised you by spreading your legs wide, exposing your dripping pussy to his hungry gaze.

You moaned softly as he took in your intoxicating scent, his tongue darting out to taste you. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and you couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself up to him willingly.

Turpin kept tasting you, his tongue tracing delicate patterns along your inner thighs as he savored your sweetness. It was rare for him to indulge in such acts of intimacy, but there was something different about you tonight, something that drew him in despite his anger. And he couldn't help but notice how much sweeter you seemed since the last time he had tasted you. Perhaps it was because of the pregnancy, he mused, a surge of desire coursing through you as a result of the changes happening within your body.

But despite the pleasure he found in your taste, Turpin couldn't shake the anger that simmered beneath the surface. He left marks on your thighs, his teeth sinking into your soft flesh as he marked you as his own.

You moaned in response to his ministrations, your cries of pleasure mingling with the sound of his name on your lips. "Ooh Richard," you gasped, your voice thick with desire. "Nhh– please..."

Turpin's grip tightened on your thighs, his touch possessive as he claimed you as his own. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice rough with desire. "You like it when I mark you as mine."

You nodded frantically, your hips bucking against his mouth as you sought more of his touch. "Yes, yes," you whimpered, your voice pleading. "I'm yours, Richard. Only yours."

Turpin smirked at your admission, a sense of satisfaction washing over him at the sight of you submitting to him so completely. But even as he continued to indulge in his desires, the anger still lingered in the back of his mind, a reminder of your disobedience.

"You're a depraved little whore," he muttered, his words filled with contempt. "But perhaps it's just the pregnancy talking."

Suddenly he took your hand and pressed it against your pussy, his touch possessive as he guided your movements.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice low and commanding. "I want to see you pleasuring yourself, just like you were before."

You blushed furiously at his words, feeling a sense of embarrassment at being caught in such a vulnerable moment. But Turpin didn't accept your hesitation, his gaze piercing as he watched you intently.

"Don't you dare be embarrassed," he growled, his tone firm and uncompromising. "You were touching yourself right there while I slept, weren't you? Now do as I say and touch yourself for me."

You nodded reluctantly, your cheeks burning with shame as you obeyed his commands. You tentatively circled your clit with your fingers, feeling a rush of pleasure coursing through you at the intimate contact.

But Turpin wasn't satisfied with your hesitant touches. He instructed you on what to do, his eyes fixed on you with unwavering intensity as he guided your movements.

"Stick a finger inside you," he ordered, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see you pleasuring yourself properly."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling a sense of emptiness as you complied with his demands. But as Turpin watched you, his gaze unwavering, you felt a surge of arousal coursing through you, driving you to obey his every command.

With trembling fingers, you slid a finger inside you, moaning softly at the sensation. Turpin's eyes darkened with desire as he watched you, a sense of satisfaction washing over him at the sight of you submitting to him so completely.

But as you continued to touch yourself, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that lingered within you. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next, before finally summoning the courage to speak.

"Judge," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I want more."

Turpin's eyes widened in surprise at your words, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at you. He had never heard you address him by his title in the bedroom before, and the unexpected gesture sent a surge of arousal coursing through him.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. "Tell me, my dear."

You swallowed nervously, feeling a sense of anticipation building within you. "I want... I want your fingers inside me," you admitted, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Turpin said nothing in response, his eyes fixed on you as he considered your request. But when he finally spoke, his voice was filled with promise.

"As you wish," he murmured, his tone filled with desire. "Lie back and let me take care of you."

You obeyed without hesitation, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for Turpin to fulfill your desires. With a sense of anticipation, you spread your legs wide, offering yourself up to him willingly.

Turpin leaned in closer, his touch gentle and reassuring as he slid his fingers inside you. You moaned softly at the sensation, feeling a rush of pleasure coursing through you at his intimate touch. As he continued to pleasure you, his movements skilled and deliberate, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the ecstasy of the moment. With each thrust of his fingers, you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge of release, the pleasure building within you like a fire waiting to consume you.

"Richard," you moaned, your voice thick with desire. "Oh, yes, please... More..."

Turpin's lips curved into a satisfied smile at the sound of his name on your lips. With renewed determination, he leaned against you, careful not to put pressure on your pregnant belly. His hooked nose brushed against your cheek as he whispered in your ear, his baritone voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Call me judge," he commanded, his tone low and commanding. "Call me Judge Turpin."

You obeyed without hesitation, the words tumbling from your lips in a breathless whisper. "Judge... Turpin," you moaned, the name rolling off your tongue like a prayer.

Turpin's lips curled into a satisfied smile at the sound of his title on your lips. He delighted in the way you obeyed him, the way you surrendered to his desires without question. In that moment, you were his to command, his to please, his to control.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, let me hear you moan for me."

You obliged eagerly, your moans filling the room as Turpin continued to pleasure you with his skilled touch. Each sound you made only spurred him on further, driving him to push you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Oh, yes," you gasped, your voice thick with desire. "Mmm, harder, please..."

Turpin obliged without hesitation, his movements becoming more urgent as he worked to bring you to the peak of pleasure. With each thrust of his fingers, he felt your body respond, the tension building within you like a coiled spring ready to snap.

"That's it, my dear," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Let go for me. Give in to the pleasure."

And with a final, desperate cry, you did just that, your body shuddering with ecstasy as you succumbed to the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Turpin watched you with a sense of satisfaction, his own desire burning hot within him as he reveled in the sight of you surrendering to him completely.

As the two of you stood there, lost in the aftermath of passion, Turpin couldn't help but feel a sense of possessiveness wash over him. You were his wife, his property, under his control. And as long as you were with him, he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side, even if it meant resorting to illegal methods, he could do that because after all he was The Judge.

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thethotthatbreathes · 2 months

Text

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.

Second 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 three 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.

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thethotthatbreathes · 2 months

Text

Wrong

Summary: Eli pays you a visit.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson (Nobel son) × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Obscenity, Teacher-Student relationship, Reader of legal age.

As you opened the door of your humble apartment, you were taken aback to find the imposing figure of Eli Michaelson standing there, a scowl marring his usually composed features. "D-Doctor Michaelson, what are you doing here?" you asked, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice.

Ignoring your question, Eli growled as he pushed past you, entering your apartment without ceremony and closing the door behind him with a resounding thud. You couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety at his presence, knowing all too well the reason for his unexpected visit.

"Doctor, you can't just barge in here like this," you protested weakly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. "And... and what happened between us was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened."

But Eli seemed unfazed by your words, his gaze piercing as he tossed a stack of papers onto your coffee table with a dismissive gesture. "Catch up on my subject," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "You've been missing university, and it's starting to affect your grades."

You couldn't help but flush with embarrassment at his blunt assessment, knowing that he was right. You had been avoiding him ever since that night, unable to face him after what had happened between you.

"Doctor, I can't..." you began, your voice trailing off as you searched for the right words. "It's... it's unethical. You shouldn't be here, what happened between us..."

But Eli simply rolled his eyes at your protests, his frustration evident in his voice. "Stop it," he snapped, cutting you off before you could continue. "We're both adults here. We had a good fuck, and that's all it was."

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment at his blunt words, unable to meet his intense gaze. "But Eli, it's not right," you insisted, your voice barely above a whisper. "We can't... we shouldn't..."

But Eli wasn't about to back down, his determination evident in the set of his jaw. "I don't care about right or wrong," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I want you again, and I intend to have you."

You swallowed hard, feeling a mixture of fear and desire coursing through your veins at his words. "Eli, please," you begged, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "I can't..."

But Eli wasn't listening, his resolve unyielding as he closed the distance between you, his hands reaching out to grasp your shoulders firmly. "You will," he declared, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "You'll see, it'll be even better this time."

And before you could protest any further, Eli's lips crashed down on yours in a hungry kiss, his hands pulling you close as he claimed you as his own once more. A surge of desire swept through your body, drowning out the voice of reason that still whispered in the back of your mind. His kiss was fierce and demanding, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth as he plundered you with an urgency that left you breathless.

You surrendered to him completely, your body responding eagerly to his touch as he pressed you against the wall, his hands roaming over your curves with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine. You moaned into his mouth, unable to suppress the arousal that flared to life within you at his touch.

Eli's hands trailed down your body, skimming over your skin with a gentleness that belied the hunger burning in his eyes. He lifted your shirt with a swift motion, exposing your chest to his hungry gaze as he claimed your lips once more in a searing kiss.

With deft fingers, he unhooked your bra, releasing your breasts from their confines and eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips as he cupped them in his hands. He kneaded them gently, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow circles that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

You arched into his touch, craving more of the exquisite pleasure he was offering you. With a primal grunt, Eli lifted you effortlessly into his arms, carrying you toward your shabby couch. As he placed you there, on your hands and knees, you tried to protest again that this was wrong, but he shut you up with a hungry kiss, his hands deftly reaching for your sweatpants and pulling them down, revealing your comfortable panties.

He couldn't help but be arrogant and comment about it, "No lace, huh? How disappointing," his tone dripping with sarcasm and superiority. His audacity ignited a fire within you, anger mixed with excitement in equal measure throwing all your reason and hesitation out the window.

"You arrogant bastard," you spat, your voice laced with fury. "Just shut up and fuck me already!"

Eli's lips curled into a cocky smile as he unbuttoned his pants, letting them fall around his thighs as he stood behind you, quickly wrapping himself in a condom he retrieved from his pocket, eager to take you against that couch that looked like it had seen better days. "Open up for me," he ordered, his voice dripping with lust and authority.

You obeyed without hesitation, parting your legs to give him better access as he pulled your panties aside, exposing your dripping arousal to his hungry gaze. With a primal grunt, he penetrated you, sliding into your wet heat with ease, eliciting a moan of pleasure from your lips.

"Damn, I missed this," he growled, his voice rough with desire as he began to move within you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Your pussy is so sweet, so tight. Going a week without it was a punishment, even though – Mmm – I had others in the meantime."

His words stung, reminding you of his callousness and selfishness, but the pleasure he was giving you was too intoxicating to resist. You moaned in response, your body arching into his with every thrust as he claimed you as his own once more.

Eli kept holding your panties to the side, his grip possessive as he growled in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "From now on, you shouldn't miss any of my classes," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You need to catch up, and I won't tolerate any more excuses."

You nodded weakly, unable to form a coherent response as pleasure consumed your senses, drowning out everything else but the intense connection between you and Eli. And as he continued to move within you, driving you both to the brink of ecstasy, you knew that this was a mistake, but one you couldn't resist. Sensing your hesitation to comply with his demand for a verbal response, he growled menacingly, "I want to hear you say it, or you won't cum today. Do you understand?"

You wanted to hurl another insult at him, to lash out at his arrogance and dominance, but the fear of being denied release spurred you to comply. Swallowing your pride, you forced out a weak, "Yes, Eli."

His response was immediate and punishing, a sharp slap landing on your ass with a sting that made you gasp in surprise. "That's Professor or Doctor Michaelson to you," he corrected sharply, his tone brooking no disobedience. "Apologize and promise me that you'll no longer miss my class or the university."

Still reeling from the sting of his slap, you nodded frantically, the realization dawning that defiance would only bring more punishment. "I'm sorry, Professor Michaelson," you corrected yourself, your voice trembling with both arousal and shame. "I promise I won't miss your class or the university again."

Satisfied with your submission, Eli's demeanor softened slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as he resumed his relentless assault on your senses. "Good," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "Now, let me show you just how good it can be when you obey."

And with that, he plunged back into you with renewed vigor, his movements becoming more urgent and demanding as he drove you both toward the precipice of pleasure. You clung to the arm of the sofa for dear life, surrendering yourself completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation that threatened to consume you both.

Eli let his head fall to the side, one hand still holding her panties to the side and the other gripping her hips tightly as his face contorted into a grimace, trying to contain his impending orgasm. Fuck, you were delicious, somehow different from the others. He couldn't define what it was. Of course, he had many women, some seeking favors, others simply attracted by his reputation and charisma. But you, you were different.

You excelled in his class effortlessly, almost too effortlessly, as if you were bored with the material, as if you already knew everything he had to teach. That intrigued him. You didn't fawn over him like some of your classmates did, seeking his attention for all the wrong reasons. No, you treated all your teachers with respect, completing your tasks diligently without seeking any special treatment, being all right and perfect.

He wanted to corrupt you.

He had to admit, he enjoyed playing these subtle games with you, drawing you closer to him one step at a time. From choosing you as his student assistant to grading papers together, he slowly broke down your barriers until finally, he managed to take you against his desk. It was a moment of triumph, of claiming you as his own in a way he hadn't anticipated.

But then you ran away from him, escaping his grasp and avoiding his class for a whole week, leaving him simmering with anger and frustration. His irritation became apparent to others, particularly his other teacher's pets, who noticed his impatience and irritability. They sensed something was off with him, but he brushed off their concerns, refusing to acknowledge his growing obsession with you.

Yet, despite his attempts to ignore it, you invaded his thoughts, haunting his dreams with memories of that passionate encounter against his desk. He found himself craving you more and more with each passing day, his desire for you consuming him like a wildfire.

And now, here he was, punishing you for your defiance, his hand coming down hard on your ass as you screamed in a mixture of pain and pleasure. You clenched around him, your walls pulsating with each punishing thrust as he claimed you once again, determined to make you his new pet.

"You think you can run from me?" he growled, his voice rough with desire as he drove himself deeper into you. "You belong to me, and I won't let you forget it."

You could only whimper in response, unable to form coherent thoughts as pleasure and pain melded together in a dizzying haze. You knew you should resist him, to push him away and escape his grasp once and for all. But the intoxicating pull of his touch was too much to resist, drawing you back to him like a moth to a flame.

Eli's grip tightened around your waist, his touch both possessive and commanding as he pulled you closer to him, pressing your back against his chest. His hot breath tickled your ear as he whispered his demands, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

"Tomorrow, I want you to wear lingerie for me," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. "I want to see you in lace and silk, ready to be ruined against my desk after class."

You tried to protest once more, to tell him that this was so wrong, but Eli silenced you with a sharp slap to your ass, the sting mingling with the lingering ache of pleasure that still throbbed through your body. "I don't fucking care what you think," he snapped, his voice dripping with arrogance and desire. "You'll do as I say, or there will be consequences."

Feeling defeated and helpless against his dominance, you nodded weakly, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "Yes, Professor," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Satisfied with your compliance, Eli's hand trailed down your body, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it with expert precision. A wave of pleasure crashed over you, washing away any lingering doubts or resistance as you cried out in ecstasy, your orgasm ripping through you with an intensity that left you breathless.

You knew that your neighbors could probably hear your screams of pleasure, but in that moment, you didn't care. All that mattered was the overwhelming connection between you and Eli, the intoxicating desire that bound you together in a twisted dance of lust and submission.

As you reached the peak of your pleasure, Eli followed suit, his own release tearing through him as he emptied himself into the condom with a guttural groan. For a brief moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you locked in a heated embrace. But as reality came crashing back in, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping over you, knowing that tomorrow would bring more of Eli's demands and your own inevitable surrender to his desires.

But for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, allowing yourself to bask in the fleeting bliss of the moment, knowing that tomorrow would bring more of Eli's intoxicating touch and the dangerous allure of his dominance.

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