#With more Judge Turpin

[evans23]

I received messages asking me if I were going to write a part 3 for my Turpin’s series and the answer is yes, probably even more than a part 3.

I’ve also a story which will be divided into several parts about Elliott Marston x OC in the oven.

With that being said, there will be some waiting before those stories are published as I will be quite occupied until August. So, be patient and after that due date I will do my best to be more active on Tumblr. 🥰

PS : yes, I take request but here again, be patient, nowadays I am running after the time.

[muiitoloko]

My Commoner

Summary: Sarah, a healer with common origins, embarks on a mission alongside the arrogant and disdainful Sir Rickman to locate and confront a witch who poses a threat to the kingdom.

Pairing: Knight!Alan Rickman × Commoner!OC

Warning: Power dynamics, mistreatment, and a power imbalance between characters.

Author's Notes: I don't know if I'll do more chapters of this and turn it into a series, the fanfic got lost in my drafts and I decided to post it after changing some things, I'm going through a bad period of author's block. Who knows, it might help me write more if you guys like this.

Sarah, feeling the weight of exhaustion, continued to watch over Sir Rickman as he slept. Two days had passed since they embarked on the treacherous journey, and it had been exactly two days since Sarah last closed her eyes. Commanded to keep watch while the knight rested, Sarah's weariness was evident, but her duty compelled her to remain vigilant.

As the moon cast its silvery glow over the campsite, Sarah fought against the heaviness in her eyelids. The rustling of leaves and distant sounds of the night seemed to taunt her with the promise of sleep. Yet, the relentless command echoed in her mind – to stay awake and alert for any potential danger.

Sarah, a commoner and a servant of King Robert's castle, found herself thrust into the unforgiving world beyond the castle walls. Her knowledge of healing had marked her as a valuable asset for this quest against the witch tormenting the kingdoms. However, her role was far from prestigious; she was a mere watcher, assigned to keep the arrogant and ruthless Sir Alan Rickman safe during his rest.

Sir Rickman, the best knight in King Robert II's service, embodied the disdainful attitude that many nobles held toward commoners. Sarah, despite her healing abilities, was no exception to his scorn. The journey had become an arduous test of endurance, with Sir Rickman's threats hanging over her head.

The campfire flickered, casting dancing shadows that played tricks on Sarah's tired eyes. She couldn't shake the weariness that settled in her bones, the desperate desire to surrender to sleep. But she dared not defy Sir Rickman's command, for the consequences were dire – the threat of her life being severed by the sharp edge of his blade.

As the night wore on, Sarah's mind wavered between the urgency of her duty and the overwhelming pull of sleep. She watched Sir Rickman's figure, his snores filling the night air. In the quiet moments, her thoughts wandered to her life within the castle, where she was raised by maids, devoid of knowledge about her parents and bearing no surname.

Sir Rickman, married to Princess Margaret, the daughter of King Robert II, held a position of power. His disdain for his wife and his arrogant demeanor extended to all commoners, treating them as beneath his notice. Despite this, Sarah, bound by duty and a sense of survival, had little choice but to endure his presence and heed his commands.

The forest, alive with nocturnal sounds, became a surreal backdrop to Sarah's struggle against sleep. Her eyelids drooped, and her senses dulled, but the fear of consequences kept her on the edge of wakefulness. The moon, an indifferent witness to her plight, continued its silent journey across the night sky.

Sarah, the commoner who had lived her entire life within the castle's confines, now found herself entangled in a perilous quest. The hunt for the witch held the promise of danger, but the immediate threat came from the very man she was tasked to watch over.

As the night deepened, Sarah's weariness reached its peak. The struggle between her need for rest and the peril of disobedience intensified. The distant hoots of an owl seemed to echo the warnings in her mind, a reminder of the precarious balance between survival and sacrifice.

In the early hours of the morning, Alan awoke to the feeble glow of the campfire. His eyes focused on Sarah, the commoner who had struggled to keep the flames alive through the night. The warmth that once flickered in the fire now waned, mirroring the tension between the knight and the reluctant guardian of the common folk.

As Sarah began to stir the remnants of the fire to life, Alan sat up, the creaking of his armor punctuating the quiet morning. Adjusting the leather straps and securing his sword, he cast a disdainful gaze upon the commoner attending to the campsite.

"Leave this," he grumbled, dismissing her efforts. "Go wake up and feed the horses. We'll be leaving soon, and I won't tolerate delays."

Sarah, her movements slowed by the lingering exhaustion, managed a tired acknowledgment. She attempted to shake off the remnants of sleep from her eyes before venturing toward the horses tethered nearby. The silent exchange spoke volumes – an arrogant knight demanding obedience, and a commoner navigating the delicate balance between duty and survival.

While Sarah attended to the horses, Alan stood, his armor gleaming in the dim light of dawn. The air carried the tension between them, a silent battlefield where each gesture and command reinforced the hierarchy that defined their roles.

"Make haste, commoner," Alan barked, his impatience evident. "We've wasted enough time."

Sarah, her response muffled by the distance, simply nodded and continued with her assigned tasks. The morning sun began to cast its golden hues across the landscape, painting a deceptive facade of serenity over the underlying conflict.

As the sun began to cast its morning glow over the clearing, Alan surveyed their surroundings with a calculated gaze. The knowledge of their route was etched in his mind, and the village awaited them in three days. A subtle confidence crept into his demeanor, his certainty in the path ahead evident.

Amidst the quiet anticipation, Sarah approached the knight, her voice respectful yet cautious. "The horses are ready, Sir Rickman. Would you desire something to break your fast?"

Alan, seemingly disinterested, questioned, "Do we still have fruit in our bags?"

Sarah nodded, confirming, "Yes, we do."

"Then we shall eat that to break the fast," Alan declared, a command that brooked no argument. The practicality of sustenance took precedence over any consideration for comfort.

As Sarah attended to the provisions, Alan's gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon, his mind undoubtedly focused on the impending journey. The delicate dance between the commoner and the knight continued, the unspoken power dynamics woven into their every interaction.

The morning unfolded, painting the scene with hues of gold, while the duo prepared to resume their quest. The village, a distant promise on the horizon, held the key to unraveling the mysteries surrounding the witch tormenting the kingdoms. Yet, for Sarah, it also held the potential for a reprieve from the nightly struggles in the open wilderness.

The journey pressed on, a relentless march toward the elusive resolution that lingered on the horizon. Alan, mounted on his steed, exuded authority, and Sarah, the reluctant guardian, navigated the complexities of servitude with resilience born from necessity.

As they set forth, the horses carrying them towards the destiny that awaited in the village, the shadows of the forest whispered tales of both peril and possibility. The dichotomy of their roles lingered, a silent undercurrent that shaped the narrative of this unlikely partnership against the backdrop of a medieval realm.

Sarah rode behind Alan while eating an apple, trying desperately not to fall asleep. Two days of riding non-stop, two days without sleep, were starting to take their toll. Hesitant, Sarah glanced at Sir Rickman, swallowing her pride before asking if she could pose a question.

Alan arrogantly replied, "You're already asking a question, commoner. Spit it out."

Gathering her courage, Sarah finally voiced her plea, "Sir Rickman, may we stop to rest? I am weary, and my eyes can barely stay open. A moment to sleep would do me good."

Abruptly stopping his horse, Alan turned his steed around to face her. Sarah quickly pulled on her horse's reins, the tiredness evident in her eyes as she met Alan's gaze. The air grew tense as the knight regarded her request.

"You dare ask for rest?" Alan sneered, his disdain cutting through the weariness. "We have a task to accomplish, and your trivial need for sleep shall not delay us."

Sarah, undeterred, spoke with a firmness that defied her common status, "Sir Rickman, I am but human, and exhaustion plagues even the strongest. A brief rest will rejuvenate me, ensuring I can continue to serve as your watcher effectively."

Alan's eyes bore into Sarah, his disdain palpable. "Who do you think you are, a Lady?" he spat with arrogance. "You're nothing more than a filthy and worthless commoner. If you believe for a moment that I will halt the entire journey for your rest, you are sorely mistaken. You must learn your place."

Sarah, feeling anger bubbling within, her exhaustion momentarily overshadowed by defiance, responded in a tone that surprised even herself. "Sir Rickman, I may be a commoner, but I am not without value. A well-rested watcher is more useful to you than one who collapses from exhaustion. Allow me a brief respite, and I assure you, I will fulfill my duty more effectively."

Alan dismounted his horse, the clinking of his armor accentuating the tension. He walked towards Sarah, pulling her abruptly from her horse. Sarah, caught off guard, let out a startled scream, her apple dropping to the ground as Alan's grip tightened.

"Did you dare to question me?" Alan growled, towering over her. "Know your place, commoner. Your worth is in your silence and obedience."

Sarah, fear coursing through her, stammered, "I... I meant no disrespect, Sir Rickman. I only thought..."

Alan interrupted with a harsh laugh. "You thought? Commoners like you don't think. You obey. This journey is not about your comfort; it's about fulfilling your duty. Now, pick up that apple and tend to the horses. We move on."

As Sarah, shaken and subdued, retrieved the fallen apple, the power dynamics between the arrogant knight and the commoner became even more pronounced. The journey continued, the shadows of the forest concealing the struggles and conflicts that unfolded beneath the surface of their uneasy alliance.

The duo rode for another two hours, Sarah silently enduring the weariness that clung to her every movement. Alan, seemingly impervious to exhaustion, abruptly halted and dismounted his horse. Sarah, following suit, avoided questioning his odd decision to stop while it was still daylight.

Tying the horses to a nearby tree, Sarah tended to their needs, ensuring they were fed. Approaching Alan, who sat against a tree with an air of impatience, she cautiously inquired, "Sir Rickman, is there anything you require?"

Alan, arms crossed and gaze fixed ahead, grumbled, "Rest, commoner. You'll be of no use if you collapse from fatigue."

Surprised by his unexpected consideration, Sarah nodded gratefully and sought a quiet corner to rest after lighting a fire. As she settled down, the fatigue that had been haunting her finally caught up. The forest, once a daunting backdrop, became a cocoon of tranquility as she succumbed to the embrace of much-needed sleep.

As the hours passed, the sun descended, relinquishing its throne to the moon and stars. Alan, true to his relentless nature, maintained a vigilant watch over the campsite. The crackling fire cast flickering shadows on his weathered face, the lines etched by years of unwavering service to the crown.

Observing the commoner, Sarah, sleeping peacefully, Alan grunted, acknowledging the necessity of allowing her rest. However, any semblance of compassion was swiftly denied within the fortress of his pride. His decision to let her rest was not born out of concern for her well-being but rather a calculated move to preserve her functionality for the mission.

"Commoner or not, she serves a purpose," Alan muttered to himself, as if reaffirming the transactional nature of their alliance. The fire's glow reflected in his steely eyes, concealing the complexities that lay beneath the armor of a seasoned knight.

The moon ascended higher, and the stars adorned the night sky like distant witnesses to the unfolding drama. Alan, driven by an unyielding commitment to the mission, rose from his seated position. He surveyed the surroundings with the precision of a seasoned warrior, ensuring that no threat lurked in the shadows.

As he tended to the fire, sparks dancing into the darkness, Alan's thoughts remained fixed on the impending confrontation with the witch. The well-being of a commoner was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. It was the success of the mission that dictated every decision, every sacrifice.

Denying himself the acknowledgment of any sentiment towards Sarah, Alan brooded over the strategic aspects of their journey. He pondered the upcoming challenges, the terrain, and the potential traps laid by the elusive witch. The weight of past victories bore down on him, and failure was an outcome he deemed unacceptable.

As the fire crackled and the night deepened, Alan's stern countenance betrayed no hint of the internal conflict spurred by his decision to allow Sarah rest. The commoner's fate, like that of others beneath his station, was inconsequential when weighed against the success of the mission.

In the quiet hours of the night, as the moon held its silent vigil and the stars whispered tales of both conquest and sacrifice, Alan's gaze lingered on the slumbering figure of Sarah. Her vulnerability, hidden in the peaceful reprieve of sleep, went unnoticed by the knight who only saw her as a means to an end.

With the fire casting its glow upon him, Alan steeled himself against any sentiment that threatened to cloud his judgment. The quietude of the forest embraced the dichotomy of their roles – the arrogant knight and the commoner bound by duty, both navigating the treacherous path towards an uncertain destiny.

[brideofedwardhyde]

My therapist: What’s wrong?

Me: We don’t talk enough about Johanna Barker’s trauma and I’m tired of it.

[dyrrn]

frollo and judge turpin are my two media crushes that I absolutely couldn’t admit to people in real life. i would never know peace

[slashingdisneypasta]

Erik Destler x Fem!StageActress!Reader || Would Include...

Erik Destler always learning your on-stage romantic interests part totally and then 'dispatching' of the poor guy just before he's meant to go on so he then can always taking his place would include...

Warnings: Contemporary musical references, I don't care, shoot me. Also just basic Erik creepiness; murder and not-super-consensual kissing/touches (dub con at most).

Tagging: @marinerainbow and @masqueradeball .

🥀 Erik falling for you almost the moment you entered the Palais Garnier for the first time. He has no chill, we know this. He's like a Disney Princess. One song and he's fallen hopelessly in love.

🥀 Erik always keeping an eye on the cast lists when they come out- checking who you are and if you have a romantic interest. If you do, that person is now his main target. He may not kill them immediately, he'll wait until the final show on the final night, but there is a big red bullseye on their back now.

🥀 Erik practising 'his' lines (The lines of your on-stage romance) in his sewer room, reciting them to a dummy wearing some... familiar clothing. What? No, he didn't sneak into your chambers in the middle of the night and steal them from you! No, no! Absolutely not!... though you are missing a dress exactly like the one the doll is wearing. *cough*

🥀 Erik treating that doll of you with the utmost care. Almost as much as he'd treat you, the real you, with (Or, how he'd like to treat you. Only the lord knows if Erik could actually be gentle if given the chance to hold you). Its really creepy. Imagine his fingertips only grazing the dolls cheek very gently, but his eyes drift downwards (even though, again, its JUST A DOLL- ITS JUST STUFFING, ERIK!- Y O U ' R E T H E O N E W H O S T U F F E D I T- ) with very desire-filled eyes. Imagine him on one knee before the doll, holding its hand in his, its dead-eyes staring off into space while he professes deep speeches about love that are supposed to be romantic but just come out wrong and infatuated off Erik's tongue. Imagine Erik's hand wandering in the middle of a particularly heated scene; completely lost to his imagination.

🥀 Erik n e v e r, ever stealing the part of a villain. Even if that villain gets much more heated, or charged scenes with you then your actual love interest (Duke Monroth, Professor Callahan, Judge Turpin, Scar, etc). He wants to be your hero. Your prince, your true love.

🥀 Erik watching your every show, in his special box 5, studying you with eyes so hot you swear you can feel them on your skin every night. Paying so close attention, so he knows exactly how to compliment you on stage; how to be your perfect stage partner. This is why your scenes in every last show at the Palais Garnier are so impossibly electrifying to the audience- and, to you.

🥀 Erik allowing your casted partner to appear in the first few scenes with you during that last performance on that last night, so you never really know when its going to stop being the one guy and start being Erik- you're on your toes. Waiting the whole performance for the hand you grab onto to be Erik's. (He's waiting for the perfect moment to step in. The moment when you're really, really in character; lost to your art.)

🥀 Erik being the Christian to your Satine during 'El Tango De Roxanne' (His eyes upon your face. His hand upon your hand. His lips caress your skin. It's more than I can stand), 'Crazy Rolling' (See how I leave with every piece of you. Don't underestimate the things I will do), and 'Your Song Reprise' (Look at me... Satine... Why else live, if not for love?) in Moulin Rouge.

🥀 Erik being the Fiyero to your Elphaba during that super fucking charged 'As Long As You're Mine' scene in Wicked. You know? With you both on your knees on the stage surrounded by dramatic mist and you cant keep your hands off eachother?? *cough cough* I mean, with you both on your knees on the stage surrounded by dramatic mist and Fiyero and Elphaba cant keep their hands off eachother??? XD (Kiss me too fiercely, Hold me too tight; I need help believing, You're with me tonight, My wildest dreamings, Could not foresee, Lying beside you, With you wanting me // Every moment, As long as you're mine, I'll wake up my body, And make up for lost time.)

🥀 Erik being the Prince to your Sleeping Beauty, Snow White during the True Love's Kiss Scene. Oh yes, he definitely goes there. Did you doubt it?

🥀 Erik AS THE BEAST IN 'EVERMORE' TO YOUR BELLE IN BEAUTY AND THE BEAST!!!?

🥀 Erik never appearing at the end of the production to bow- he cant. You know that. So he makes his last moments on stage with you last, because honestly- who knows when the next time will be?? Its not like he can come call on you like a normal person... 🙄he's a dramatic freak. He holds your hand a few moments longer then necessary, or a little tighter. He kisses you one more time even though its not scripted.

🥀 Erik leaving you a bouquet of flowers in your dressing room after that last show on that last night. Signed simply, ceaselessly yours.

~

🥀 You tell yourself every time that the show must go on. You tell yourself, that thats why you don't stop it; Don't do anything.

🥀 You are lying to yourself. You cant deny the electricity crackling all over your skin every time you see Erik on stage with you, every time Erik touches you under fake pretences. You've never felt quite the same on stage then when he's there with you; you feel like you're really the characters... and there is nothing on earth like that feeling. No one else can give you this. No one but him.

🥀 You expect it now and anxiously await the moment when your practise partner (Just Erik's understudy. Thats what you're thinking of them now; the men who are actually cast) dematerialises from the stage and its Erik.

🥀 You always leave the flowers from Erik at the grave of the man who died. Its sick, the game (?? habit?? r e l a t i o n s h i p??) you're in, but you cant stop. And you cant apologise, so you can only do this.

🥀 You working extra hard to get lead roles at the Palais Garnier. As soon as one show is over, you have a hunger to do it again. Get another part, get Erik back on that stage with you.

Its like an addiction.

[finleyforevermore]

🌟CASTING MY MUTUALS IN: SWEENEY TODD: THE DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET!🌟

Side note: I cast based on if the character reminds me of the moot, or if I can see the moot playing the character! If you get cast as a bad guy, of course I don't think of you that way! The reason I casted you is the second reason, I can just see you in that role! Cool? Cool! Now grab your razors, and let's get to cutting!

For those who paid attention to my blog, you all saw this first one coming 😅:

Finley as Sweeney Todd and Zeep (@ziipzeepzop-eez) as Mrs. Lovett

Josh Groban and Annaleigh Ashford as Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for...me!: Sweeney is an actual dream role of mine! Not to mention it'd be a blast to get to play a not nice guy for 2 hours >:)

Reasons for Zeep: I wholeheartedly believe Zee has the comedic chops to play Lovett, and would absolutely sell the serious moments as well. In Zee we trust 😌

Mari (@heylittlestellbird) as Johanna

Maria Bilbao as Johanna in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Stella: Johanna is associated with birds. Who's got "bird" in their username? Mari! I rest my case! XD /silly

Atlas (@literatureisdying) as Anthony Hope

Jordan Fisher as Anthony in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Atlas: Anthony's number one character trait is yearning for Johanna. Atlas' number one trait is yearning for Auden. Simple! /silly

Mikey (@mushroom-hoodie) as The Beggar Woman

Ruthie Ann Miles as The Beggar Woman in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Mikey: Admittedly at first I had casted you as the Beggar Woman, because one, I just couldn't turn down your offer to be included, and two, I was struggling to think of skmeone else to cast you as but the more I thought about it the more I genuinely liked it! I think you'd do a really good job in this role! ^^

Frog (@ofthefrogs) as Tobias "Toby" Ragg

Joe Locke as Toby in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Froggy: I mean....just look at you and then look at Toby and tell me you don't look alike.

But also! Toby is a sweetheart! Froggy is also a sweetheart! I rest my case.

Ender (@ender-outlaw) as Adolfo Pirelli

Nicholas Christopher as Pirelli in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Ender: While you and Pirelli really couldn't be any more different, you're already a very charming person (Pirelli is in fact not that XD) and I think you'd have a great time playing him! Also, this is Tumblr! Who gives a hoot about gender? We can have a female Pirelli if we want!! >:D

Greaseball (@gb-diesellok) as Judge Turpin

Jamie Jackson as Turpin in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Greaseball: Just like Ender and Pirelli, you and Turpin really couldn't be any more different XD but your voice definitely fits comfortably into all of Turpin's vocal parts! ^^

Rook (@rook-specter) as Beadle Bamford

John Rapson as Bamford in the picture. (2023 Broadway)

Reasons for Crepuscule: Just like Ender and Pirelli AND Geebs and Turpin, you and Bamford aren't very much alike either! Who woulda guessed? XD

But I think your portrayal would be absolutely delightful and very funny (very much like his portrayal in the 2023 Broadway revival funnily enough)

And last, but most certainly not least..

What's a musical without it's Ensemble? :D

From left to right, we have:

@sandsmand, Troy (@the-fag-with-the-swag), Ash (@ripash), Wolf (@electricfied-wolf), Razzle (@whistlingstarlight), Ash (@idk-what-to-make-user), Charlie (@gently-decaying-flowers), Cal (@treasure-goblin), Amor (@nuncscioquidsitamor-14), Gabi (@splendidred05), Finn (@lordcatwich), & Eli (@theelispace)!

[starry-eyesanddaydreams]

NSFW Alphabet - Judge Turpin

Buckle in, Rickmaniacs. This one was an experience to write. Trying to go appropriately dark side for this character with my own observations for him. A little plot for this one. In this, Reader is the Judge's wife.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

At first terrible. But as his affection for you grew, so did his care. In his eyes you're not just a conquest, you're his wife. He did swear to care for and protect you, and that includes taking care of you after he's thoroughly wrecked you.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his hands. He likes what he knows he's capable of with them.

On you, he likes your inner thighs. The soft, inviting path to his prize.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside you, on your breasts, your face, he loves to debauch you and make a mess of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn’t have dirty secrets. What he wants, he does.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very. He's had a lot of conquests and that library of his is a complete guide to smut.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes all sorts of creative positions. But there is something to be said for simple missionary. Having you pinned beneath his large body, completely at his mercy and under his control.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He is not a light-hearted man. He's very intense and focused.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn't bother. Most days he doesn't even shave his beard, but you actually quite enjoy his stubble.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You would not call him a romantic person. But he loves you in his own way and you know that. Calling you things like his "sweet, pretty whore" and treading a fine balance between treating you like a vessel for his lust and his precious little wife.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He'd rather have you do it for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Purity and corruption kink. He loves the idea of turning a sweet, innocent maiden into his wanton, begging harlot. Of course, after some time with him, you're far from innocent, but you know how to play the game still. Bondage and discipline. He really likes shabari, the ways he can tie you up and put you on display for him, and the marks the ropes leave across your body when he unties you. He has rules and how he expects you to behave. If you break these, he takes great pleasure in punishing you. Spankings with his hand, hairbrush or cane, denying or forcing your climax. He wants you to beg for his mercy but he’ll only give it when he feels you’ve earned it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere the mood strikes. Any room in his house, his judges chambers at the courthouse, in a carriage. One time you took a train journey with him, alone in a train compartment for hours. That was a memorable afternoon.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Watching you orgasm. Seeing you take pleasure in his touch is a heady feeling and he feels addicted to the way you respond to him. He likes to lay you out on the bed naked and make you cum with his fingers, just so he can watch you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Ha! Nothing turns this man off. But while he will push your boundaries and even cross lines at times, you are special to him. He'll push you to your emotional limits, but he'll also make sure you're put back together again afterwards.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Most of the time, he's receiving. He loves having you on your knees in front of him. But if he's in a generous mood, he will go down on you. He'll use this to keep you on edge till your crying and begging for release though.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and rough. He takes his time, pulling back slowly and thrusting hard. He wants to make sure you feel every bit of him before he pounds you so hard the headboard hits the wall.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers when he can take his time, but when he wants to get under your skirt, he will.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He loves putting into practice what he's read in those books. If an idea intreuges him, he'll want to try it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Three rounds, with some recovery time. He's not the youngest man, but his stamina is still high.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No. The only real sex toys around are dildos, and with his posesivness, he doesn't want anything inside you except him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Depends on his mood. Sometimes he’ll just have you without bothering with foreplay. Sometimes he’ll tease you until you’re crying with frustration and begging him to give you release.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

On the quieter side, heavy breathing, grunts and dirt talk.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

As long as he’s getting what he wants, he can be very attentive. When he’s refused or defied is when his dark side really comes out. As long as you’re being his good girl, he can be very indulgent and affectionate with you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Eight inches and pretty thick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. This man is walking lust.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After he's tended to you, he can fall asleep pretty quickly, well worn out.

[demonbarbers]

so high rn so sorry if this doesn’t make any sense i’m just so emotional about josh and annaleigh and this production so i’m gonna ramble a bit about what i love about it and them. ok. enjoy.

the thing about sweeney todd is that it’s mean. it’s a mean show. it ends on the cruel irony of 2 officers bursting in on toby slitting sweeney’s throat, surrounded by 2 other bodies and one in the oven; on johanna watching her father die holding her mother and not even knowing it. everyone is an abuser or abused, and there is no hope or redemption to be found. and it fucking rules! it just rules. it’s so fun to indulge in our basest pleasures for nearly 3 hours, delicately served to us by one of the greatest composers who’s ever lived.

and every major production takes the bile and cruelty inherent to the material and runs away with it. like- just look at this swedish production from 2006, directed by vernon mound. or the last time it was on broadway, directed by john doyle:

productions tend go smaller and nastier, more intimate, in keeping with the spirit of how sondheim originally conceived the piece. (side note: i LOVE when they do that. my ideal sweeney has buckets of blood and visera right in your face)

the original production of sweeney was MASSIVE, but that came from hal prince. hal couldn’t really get an emotional foothold on the material until he found within sweeney an extended metaphor for capitalism and the industrial revolution; people literally eating people and the machine of capitalism grinding everyone up. revivals also tend to seize on the brechtian class elements, like this absolutely gorgeous korean production from 2019 directed by eric schaeffer:

sondheim, meanwhile, always objected to readings of sweeney as brechtian- it was all a farce to him, just a good, nasty time at the theatre. he approached it as a horror fan who wanted to write some fucked up stuff, which is maybe now some of the best art is created. but hal made it into epic theatre.

(if u don’t know what epic theatre is or what brechtian means google will explain it better to u than my ridiculously stoned ass can rn but im just focusing on one aspect of it rn: the distancing effect. basically, emotionally distancing the audience from the characters and the material so that everyone is engaging with the work on an intellectual level as opposed to an emotional one)

obc sweeney is an alienating show. it’s so fun and brutal and deeply felt, but these characters are grotesque. they’re cartoonish in their cruelty. just look at their makeup! john doyle also embraces the distancing effect; his revival is actor-muso, so we’re pretty aware at all times we’re watching a show. it’s all so cold, and the only warmth to be found is in the humor. and it rules. it’s nasty. i love it. this is the show i fell in love with.

all these things have become inherent to sweeney over time, all teased out of the greatest broadway show to ever exist; visceral horror, cruelty, coldness, and class commentary.

but this revival is just.. it’s warm! it’s lush! it’s romantic! and i don’t mean that in the sense of lovett and sweeney (tho this is the warmest they’ve ever been towards each other in any major production i’ve seen). i mean that it gestures at and plays with romanticism.

my biggest critique of this production is, in doing away with the brechtian elements (sondheim just cheered), it also does away with overt class commentary. it’s all still there in the text- turpin is a corrupt judge, beadle is effectively a sheriff, sweeney and lovett are working class, the beggar woman is homeless- but as a director tommy kail seems… uninterested in any biting political commentary, to put it generously lmfao. and i hate so much how little of it there is to be found in this revival, bc you can still Do It without invoking brecht. but i’ve long made my peace with that. i wanna talk about what i love.

and what i really love and what kept me returning to it (beyond the fact that it’s sondheim, and it’s sweeney, and josh groban is so stupid fucking hot) is how human everyone is. the entire production, from the ground up, is built around taking these characters and their pain seriously.

the ensemble all have incredibly period accurate costumes, unique to each character they’ve crafted (fun fact even the swings have their own unique costume that’s only seen when they perform). gone is toby as a mentally disabled man child with an oedipal fixation on lovett. in gaten’s hands he’s a young teenager, aging out of being a cute urchin and just looking for a mother. in daniel’s hands he’s beaten down young man with a limp and a genuine love for lovett.

ruthie’s beggar woman has developed DID after a brutal rape and the trauma of institutionalization and homelessness. she’s not played for laughs, even if sometimes the audience chuckles, and she makes u feel guilty if you ever did laugh at her situation. daniel yearwood leans so far into anthony as a sweet guy completely unaware of the story he’s actually in to the point of comedy. maria is just a revelation as johanna, all nerve and tension and bloody nails from years of self-harm. it’s easy to lean into johanna as a princess track, but ~crazy~. and maria plays jo as mentally ill and traumatized from years of incesteous abuse, but it’s not a pastiche or a praody of it. jo feels human in a way i’ve never seen her depicted before. i love it. maria bilbao u have my heart forever for this.

and then josh and annaleigh…. ugh!!! annaleigh really captures the avarice at the heart of lovett, but still brings in enough genuine moments of humanity and compassion that you find yourself (like sweeney and toby) endeared to her. lovett is always cruel and can only love through manipulation, but annaleigh’s lovett is a woman who makes small concessions. bit by bit, piece by piece, she erodes whatever goodness she had inside her until nothing but her desire for sweeney is left. she’s a woman who’s used seduction to get her way, and it’s easy to envision that when lucy returned from turpin’s, she shamed her for “giving it away” without getting benjamin back. she’s a monster! and yet, when she dreams of a better life, you feel it. when she holds toby in her arms and cried at her perfect little life unraveling, you feel it. annaleigh makes you laugh so hard she gets under your skin and stays there, exactly how lovett seduces sweeney in ALP. and there it is- identification! the complete opposite of alienation. we’re in it with them.

and then there’s josh and his sweeney… i really feel like his sweeney is undervalued. annaleigh steals the show. she won the drama desk for a reason. it’s a legendary performance. but josh…. man. i just. i keep returning to josh’s open wound of a sweeney over and over again. i think he’s probably had this take bouncing around in his head for years. they smartly leaned away from sweeney as this embodiment of rage and physical menace, which surprised a lot of people. but instead leaned into sweeney’s grief in a way i haven’t seen any major production do. josh’s sweeney feels like a man who was put on this earth to be a father and a husband. there’s a buried sweetness to him and you can still see benjamin barker in him until the very end. i keep calling him “kendall roy sweeney” bc it’s the closest way i can covey to other ppl what josh is doing here. he’s all big sad eyes and suicidal ideation, tragedy and twitchy hands. he’s so deeply pathetic he just endears himself to you. i want sweeney to succeed more than ever before. even though he spends all of act 2 killing people and being a shit father and thus killing benjamin barker, i still find myself wanting him and lovett to get away with it. and when the reveal comes, and even worse the betrayal hits- that this woman who he let into his life and body and who, in some odd way, became a friend, lied to him this entire time- it hits like never before for me.

i just love it all so much. i’m so happy it exists, so happy this revival does something so new! sondheim has said sweeney todd is a show about obsession, and it is. this revival supposes: what is the difference between love and obsession? what if the two look the same?

i think often of this quote from luca guadagnino’s suspiria (a masterpiece btw): “Love and manipulation, they share houses very often. They are frequent bedfellows.”

to me, that’s this revival in a nutshell- the thin line between love and obsession, and all the blood spilled in between.

[smilingformoney]

A Clash of Alans: Round 1 closes & Round 2 opens!

Thanks everyone who voted in Round 1! Unfortunately 8 Alans won't be making it to Round 2, but the good news is we have a whole bunch more Alans joining us! Results for Round 1 are below the cut, but if you want to jump straight into voting for Round 2, you can do so HERE. Voting closes at 6pm UK time, 13th July.

Battle 1: Antoine Richis (10.2%) v Alex Hughes (89.8%)

Battle 2: Metatron (56%) v Grigori Rasputin (44%)

Battle 3: King Louis XIV (20%) v P.L. O'Hara (80%)

Battle 4: Ronald Raegan (6%) v Judge Turpin (94%)

Battle 5: Hans Gruber (86%) v Frank Benson (14%)

Battle 6: Eamon de Valera (51%) v Alfred Blalock (49%)

Battle 7: Lukas Hart III (38.8%) v Karl Hoffmeister (61.2%)

Battle 8: Obadiah Slope (87.8%) v Joe the Fish (12.2%)

[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!

[iloveplayrehersal]

I want a Hannibal AU but it's like Sweeney Todd the Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Hannibal would be Mrs. Lovett

Will would be Sweeney Todd

Abigail would be Toby

Mason would be Judge Turpin

Cordell would be Beetle

How does it sound? Also if you have more ideas you can tell me

[evans23]

Loving you is a losing game

Pairing : Judge Turpin x Reader OC

Summary : The Judge Turpin has married you by buying your hand to your father. Determined to not let him get close to you and even less reach your heart well kept under ice and resentment, you keep on to push him away. But after having been told that loving you is a losing game, something new seems to awake inside of you.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Forced marriage. Assault.

A/N : Hello dear 😁 here lay my first Turpin fiction. I didn't really know where I was going with it but here is it. I didn't proofread it so there are probably some mistakes, sorry for that. I forgot to mention I am not the one who came up with the name Richard. I read this name in the terrific trilogy “Judged and Sentenced” from @deepperplexity. Since then I saw the name pop up here and there and so, I suppose the name is sort of canon now 😅

Part II

Read also on AO3

You couldn't put up with the fact that he had bought you. But it wasn't really him, your husband, that you despised for that. It was your father. The man you thought you could always count on.

You had had quite an easy childhood with not too many constraints, which were rather rare at that time. You had been taught to read and to write. And you were a good writer. Such a good one that one day, a publisher from a local and independent Newspaper from London made you sign a contract to edit some of your short stories in his Sunday paper. And as he was well known in the literary sector, he put you in touch with a book publisher. This is how you became "Alexander Bryant" in the eyes of the public. Of course, you weren't able to be published under your real name. A female writer ? What an offense !

But you didn't really care as you were able to make some money from the sale of it. Some really good money, a rarity for a woman. It was fortunate as, for the biggest desperation of your father, you weren't, in any way possible, a good maid. You couldn't sew two points in a raw correctly, your cooking wasn't palatable at all and if you appreciated living in a tidy house, you couldn't spend more than one hour or less doing that.

But you didn't have to worry about it now as you had been married for two months to no one else than "The Death's Judge".

"How did it happen to me," you muttered to yourself, looking at you in the mirror without really seeing your reflection.

In fact, you perfectly knew how it had happened. You didn't know how and you didn't know where, but Richard, your now husband, had noticed you one day and since then, your faith was decided.

He came one day to your house with a bouquet of flowers for you. You had looked at him suspiciously. You knew who he was. His reputation preceded him of course but you also had a glimpse at him one day when you were at the court with your publisher and one of his associates to negotiate the terms of your new contract with a solicitor.

At that time, you didn't think anything peculiar about the man. You vaguely remembered having thought that he was quite handsome with his hooked nose, his tall frame and his charismatic presence. If you hadn't been forced to marry him, you would have admitted that you had found him alluring.

But here was the point : your father had sold you to the man.

That day when he came to your house with his bloody flowers and his absolutely not appealing smile. He had asked to talk with your father and you had fetched him as quickly as you could, afraid that he was in trouble.

He wasn't in trouble, nevertheless, the call of the money echoed deeply in him when Judge Turpin offered a generous dowry for your hand.

"I apologies to have to tell you are in the wrong Judge Turpin."

The man had looked up at you with a frown.

"This is the woman's family who have to provide you with a dowery and unfortunately, no one here is in measure to give you a penny."

It was half a lie as you kept your money in security into a chest under your bed. You weren't quite honest about your earnings with your father as he was quite a spendthrift. So, you helped him by giving him a small amount of money, keeping preciously the rest away to constitute a nest egg for later.

Absolutely not bewildered by your interruption and your statement, Turpin had grinned before announcing that you were the one making in mistake in this particular case.

"I had the sincere desire to marry you and as I just said, I will give a compensation to your father for the loss of his precious daughter."

You had retained a laugh, persuaded that never ever my father would agree to such an obnoxious offer.

You were so wrong. The Judge had let you some days to think over the offer he had laid on.

Tempted by this important amount of money Turpin was willing to pay to ensure that your father handed over your hand to him, your thoughtful father didn't need to think too long to accept his offer and in the blink of an eye, you were betrothed.

You had protested, swearing that you would prefer to kill you rather than marry the man, the deal was sealed without you having a say. In any way, no one was willing to listen to you.

During the ceremony, you were full of apprehension, afraid about your wedding night. But for your biggest surprise, nothing happened. After the party, the both of you retired in the privacy of his opulent mansion, he showed you your room and left you alone.

Your new house was daunting, not up to your expectations. The exteriors were quite imposing, displaying the wealth of the Judge, but the inside was… not really gloomy but also not really lively. It was as if the house was uninhabited. And you discovered later it was the case. Turpin, Richard as he asked you to call him, was seldomly at home. He departed for the court early in the morning and came back late in the night. Since your wedding, you didn't share a meal together and your only company was your maid.

For such a big house, he didn't have nearly so much staff as one could expect of a man of his stature would have. A cook, three maids, whose one had been hired exclusively for you, and the Beadle. You didn't really know who the man was and what clearly was his function beside your husband but you couldn't stand him. His ratty face didn't inspire you any confidence. He seemed deceitful and ready to betray his own mother if it could bring him any advantages.

"Like Richard," you said to no one as you were looking out the window at the crowd running around the city.

Hadn't you been so resentful about the latest events, you would have admitted that your life wasn't as bad as you imagined it would become after your wedding.

He didn't touch you that night nor any other after that. He didn't try anything which could have distressed you, didn't restrict you from any freedom you thought you would be longing for. You were allowed to write, he was more than happy to furnish you the papers and the ink you needed and he had arranged a room for you to make your office. You were allowed to go out, only on the condition to stay in the richest part of the town and you could visit your publisher when needed without his approval. His only wish was that you let your maid know when you were leaving the home. You weren't dupe, you knew that as soon as you set a foot outside, he was informed. But even if he was aware of each of your movements inside and outside the mansion, you were still able to enjoy your freedom, a privilege a lot of women lost after being married.

He also lavished you with presents. Valuable jewelry, the most beautiful dresses you had ever seen, books, flowers. Not a week had passed without an attention for you. In the beginning, you hesitated between bringing the presents into his office to let him know you didn't want to have anything to do with him but well aware of his reputation, you had been afraid of infuriating him. After all, you didn't really know the man and he could retake what he had given you at any time.

So was what you told to yourself rather than admit the truth : you were flattered and pleased to receive such beautiful gifts. Should someone have utter that maybe you could come to appreciate your husband you would fervently have denied it. After all, how could you become accustomed to him without having the opportunity to speak with him ?

The only moments shared together were on Sunday. Richard wasn't a fervent believer in God and neither did you, so you had a lazy Sunday at the mansion. It was the only time during which you ate lunch and diner together and during the afternoon, he systematically invited you to join him in the parlor but you rarely spoke to one another. In general, both of you were reading. Sometimes, you brought with you your ongoing book and he would ask you random questions about it. He had once admitted to having your previous literary work.

"And what did you think of it ?" you had asked with a feigned indifference.

Your stoicism hid your nervousness. You couldn't fathom why you felt nervous about his opinion about your work, but you were.

"Well my dear, It is unusual for a woman to write about such things as a vampire. Even less a love story like this one. Does the sexual tension between the human lady and the vampire make on purpose ?" he had asked bluntly.

You had nodded once, your cheeks flushing at the mention of some somewhat suggestive scenes from your book.

"Well, I am impatient to read the next part of it."

And that was all.

Mustering up the motivation you were lacking to officially begin the day, you pulled yourself away from the window and asked the help of your maid to get ready to go out. You had to go see your publisher and then, you expected to have a walk in the park to make the better of the sunny day, which began to spread ahead as the hours passed by.

But nothing happened as you had planned. While you were walking in the street, you took a side road to reach faster your destination. It was a dark, filthy little street dwelt with drunkers and dwellers. You weren't really scared as you had taken this path numerous times in the past and as long as you minded your own business, you weren't really in danger. At least, it was what you thought. How wrong you were, you realized when a callous hand had fallen on your mouth.

"Your lost little beauty ?" asked a raspy voice.

You shivered, trying with all your strength to get away from the man but his grip was strong.

"Don't make it difficult little beauty, you will like it."

You bit his hand to blood, which earned you a ferocious slap on the face. You fell on the ground, a bit dizzy, trying as hard as you could to pull yourself together but you didn't have the time than his hand clenched at your hair, pulling you violently towards him. Standing you up roughly, making you let a squirm escape your lips, he pushed you against the wall, a hand on your breasts, another trying to find his way under your skirt.

Totally paralyzed, you were unable to move or even scream. Your breath became heavy as you stayed motionless even though you knew what would happen next.

He has approached his face from yours, his foul breath caressing your lips, making you want to throw up, when a snicker was heard.

Not really moved by the onlooker, the man had run his tongue across your cheeks, which had the effect of waking you up from your trance.

You tried to slap him but he was faster and knocked your head with his fist.

"Constable !' shouted a voice.

In one instant, the man was pushed down to the ground by two constables. Behind them were the Beadle. The snicker-man.

"Having dared to touch the wife of the Judge Turpin…" he muttered, enjoying the moment.

"It is something that will send you right through your death," he added with a horrendous laugh.

You have been brought back to the mansion by another policeman while Beadle escorted your assaulter to the prison, clearly enjoying what he had witnessed and the fate of the mongrel.

When you arrived, Richard was already torn, the worry imbued all over his face.

"[Y/N], dear, are you well ?" he asked his voice full of concern.

He tried to take your hand but you pushed him away before holding yourself tightly to retain your shivers.

He didn't follow you as your maid came towards you to lead you to the bathroom where she ran a bath for you. You soaked in the water until it was cold. Then, you called for your maid. At any other time, you would have dismissed her as soon as your bath was ready. You didn't like having someone around you to help you with something as trivial as drying you off but you were exhausted and could barely keep your eyes open. But it's not your maid who entered into the room. It was your husband.

"Richard…" you whispered, not daring to look at him.

You felt suddenly wide awake, the tiredness dissipated and replaced with something else. You felt ashamed about what had happened. You knew it wasn't your fault, for that man had acted with malignancy and it couldn't have been the first time. At this thought, you bristled.

"[Y/N], let me help you," he said, stepping in carefully.

He dropped a thick towel around you but when he tried to rub you in the aim to bring some heat to your cold skin, you backed away.

"Don't be afraid [Y/N]. I just want to help you. I will protect you."

He tried again to approach you but then again you backed away, trying to shut him out from trying to break through your shell.

"[Y/N]," he said almost desperately.

You shook your head, muttering for him to go away.

"Leave me alone," you said with anger.

"No ! I want to help you," he replied, looking with disapproval at the bruises which began to form on your face.

"I don't want your help ! I want you to go out. Let me be !" you shouted.

"No ! You are my wife, my place is by your side."

"I'm not," you retorted.

"What ?" Asked Richard, his own anger boiling up quietly but surely.

"I am not your wife," you said with defiance.

He made one step towards you and this time you didn't move, holding his gaze with fury.

"You are my wife. We had wed in front of our families and of God !"

"God has nothing to do with our marriage. You have bought a wife as we bought a dog."

"I asked for your hand because I am in love with you."

"How ? How could you be in love with me ? We have never spoken together !" you shouted totally oblivious that the staff could hear you. "If you were really in love with me, you would have courted me properly."

"Would you have agreed ?"

You didn't respond as the answer was obvious. Never you would have paid the slightest attention to his advance, but there wasn't the point.

"So, no matter what, you get what you want by fair means or foul." you spit out.

"My patience grows thin, woman." he warned you.

"And what are you going to do ? Giving me a beating ?" you asked brazenly.

He clenched and unclenched his fists several times. Never would he have laid a finger on you on the purpose of hurting you but you were clearly unnerving him far more than anyone before you had dared to.

"I try [Y/N]. I try very hard. You are the one unwilling to make any effort to come to me and get to know me."

"Buying a hand doesn't mean you buy a heart !" you retorted coldly.

You were about to add something else, something you wish was hurtful but you didn't have time as he cut you off.

"I tried to talk about your writing, about your childhood, your hobbies. You always answered me with monosyllable, always with a bored look on your face. I gave you space, I didn't coerce you to oblige to your marital duty, I let you go out alone as a proper lady shouldn't do. And this is how you thank me each time. By pushing me away. Again and again and again. Each time I try to show you kindness, you answer with meanness."

He had said that in a calm, poised voice but his anger could clearly be heard. He had talked with the calm severity of a teacher who doesn't need to raise his voice to make his disobedient pupils obey.

"Richard," you whispered.

"Loving you is a losing game but things are going to change, woman ! I am not to let you mess with me anymore. Yes, mark my words, things are going to change for you woman !" he growled dominating you with his imposing presence.

His baritone voice sent some shivers along your backbone.

With one last look at your bruised face, he quit the room, slamming the door behind me.

You stayed there for a while, stunned by what had just happened. He was right. Now that you thought about all the moments he had passed with you, never had you let him reach you farther than the cold surface layer that prevented the world from knowing the real you.

You were so angry about having been bought like an animal that you had never tried to be more acquainted with him. He was right, never ever he could have had your attention, even less your friendship and certainly not your heart if he hadn't barged in your home. And if you were totally honest, you would admit that you begrudged far more your father than Richard for the deal that was made that day.

"But He still didn't have my heart." you reasoned with yourself.

But inwardly, you felt as if it weren't true anymore. Not totally. You couldn't tell you were in love with him but for the first time, you were ready to recognize that you felt something for the man.

Loving you is a losing game, had he said but at this precise moment, you felt as if you were the one losing the game you had settled the both of you in. You were losing the game of hatred in favor of love. And this night, whilst you were staring at the ceiling, you found yourself hoping that he take back his words, that he came to the conclusion that loving you was worth it.

[muiitoloko]

Dressing room

Summary: Judge Turpin was insatiable and always looked for an opportunity to have you, even if it was in a dressing room at a suit store.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: Just a glimpse into the early days of the Turpin marriage, from the series "Love?" Although honestly, I saw this one-shot as rubbish. I think I'm getting bad at writing. 😅

First, Second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth part here.

You sat alone in the opulent suit shop, surrounded by mannequins dressed in rich, elaborate suits that bespoke a life you had never imagined. The shop was grand, with polished wood floors and walls lined with shelves of tailored garments. But despite the luxury, a shiver ran down your spine as you glanced around nervously, feeling out of place in this foreign world.

It had only been two weeks since your marriage to Richard Turpin, a man who struck fear into your heart with his cold, unyielding demeanor and imposing presence. His hooked nose and baritone voice seemed to echo through your mind, a constant reminder of his dominance over your life now.

Turpin had brought you to London from your small village, promising a life of wealth and security. Yet, as you stood here in this shop, waiting for him to finish trying on suits, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that accompanied you wherever you went.

The loyal employee, a man named Beadle Bamford, stood nearby, his sharp eyes fixed on you as if he were watching for any signs of disobedience. His presence unnerved you; he was a reminder of the control Turpin had over you, even in public places like this.

You glanced down at your hands, your wedding band catching the light. Turpin never let you forget that he owned you now, body and soul. He kept you on a tight leash, allowing you out of the house only when he was by your side. It was suffocating.

The sound of a door being opened broke your reverie, and you looked up to see Turpin emerging from the dressing area, adjusting the cuffs of a fine silk shirt under a dark, tailored suit jacket. His expression was stern, eyes cold as he examined his reflection in the mirror. He seemed pleased with his appearance, a dangerous glint in his eye that made you shiver.

"Is this to your liking, my dear?" Turpin asked, his voice low and demanding as he turned to face you. His words were meant to sound polite, but they carried an undercurrent of authority that left no room for disagreement.

"Yes, it looks very nice," you replied softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fear rising within you.

Turpin nodded, satisfied with your response, and turned to tailor. "We'll take this one," he stated firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

The tailor nodded deferentially, his eyes flicking briefly to you before he turned to retrieve the suit from its display. As he disappeared into the back of the shop, you felt Turpin's gaze bore into you once more, his expression unreadable.

"You've been very well-behaved today," Turpin remarked, his voice deceptively calm as he took a step closer to you. "I trust you're learning to appreciate the finer things in life."

You nodded silently, unsure of what he wanted from you. The truth was, you were still struggling to adjust to this new life, surrounded by opulence and luxury that felt more like a gilded cage than anything else.

Turpin reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek in a gesture that should have been tender, but instead sent a shiver of dread down your spine. His touch was possessive, a silent reminder of the control he had over you.

When the tailor returned, you watched Turpin talk to him in a low voice. The exchange was too quiet for you to hear. The tailor nodded before walking away, disappearing into the back of the shop. Turpin turned to his assistant, barking a single sharp command at Beadle: "Go away!" Beadle complied without question, his demeanor subservient as he scurried off to attend to his master's bidding.

Alone in the store with Turpin, you felt a sense of unease settle over you like a suffocating blanket. His presence was suffocating, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over you as he approached, his eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam.

Suddenly, Turpin grabbed your hand and pulled you with him into the dressing room, his grip firm and unyielding as he led you away from prying eyes. You stumbled after him, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to keep up with his brisk pace.

Once inside the dressing room, Turpin closed the door behind him with a decisive click, the sound echoing in the small space with ominous finality. You watched him warily, your nerves on edge as you waited for him to speak.

"Why are we here?" you questioned, your voice trembling with nervousness as you eyed Turpin warily. "What do you want from me?"

Turpin silenced you with a cold, calculating look, his eyes glinting with a mixture of desire and dominance. "I paid the tailor good money to leave us alone," he explained, his voice low and commanding as he stepped closer to you. "I have no intention of wasting this opportunity to fuck you."

You were shocked by your husband's shamelessness, yet another reminder of his brazen and insatiable nature. Despite your protests, Turpin paid you no mind, his intentions clear as he reached out to pull you closer to him.

And as he pressed you against the wall of the dressing room, his hands roamed over your body with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to protest, not wanting to engage in such intimate acts in such a public place, but Turpin's relentless advances left you powerless to resist.

With a rough tug, Turpin lifted your skirts, his fingers fumbling with the laces of your undergarments as he prepared to take you right then and there. You pleaded with him to stop, to show some restraint, but your words fell on deaf ears as Turpin's desire overpowered any sense of reason or decency.

But as Turpin dropped to his knees before you, instructing you to keep your skirts up, you nodded, a little stunned to see your powerful husband on his knees in front of you. But before you could fully comprehend the situation, he surprised you once again as he buried his face between your legs.

You gasped in surprise as you felt his warm breath against your skin, his tongue tracing delicate patterns along your folds. It was a strange sensation, one you had never experienced before, but you found yourself enjoying the unexpected pleasure as Turpin eagerly tasted you.

His movements were skilled and determined, his tongue exploring every inch of your sensitive flesh as he sought to please you. You arched your back in response, a moan escaping your lips as he found just the right angle to send waves of pleasure coursing through you.

With one of your legs draped over his shoulder, Turpin had a better angle to delve deeper, his ministrations becoming more fervent as he sought to elicit even more pleasure from you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he devoured you with a hunger that left you breathless.

"Richard," you gasped, your voice trembling with desire as you looked down at him with lust-filled eyes. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

Turpin's only response was a low growl of approval as he redoubled his efforts, his tongue working tirelessly to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. With each flick and swirl, he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his own desire evident in the fervor of his movements.

Turpin continued to pleasure you with his tongue. He couldn't help but revel in the taste of your essence, his curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar sensation. Despite his usual aversion to oral sex, he found himself enjoying the experience. His tongue delved deep inside you as he thrust with a fervor that mirrored his desire to possess you completely.

And as you moaned and writhed above him, Turpin felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him, knowing that he was the one bringing you to such heights of pleasure. He teased your clit with his hooked nose, the sensation driving you wild with desire as you begged for more.

But when you finally reached the peak of ecstasy, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm, Turpin knew it was time to move on to the next phase of their encounter. With a satisfied smirk, he stood up, undoing the pants of his expensive suit to reveal his cock, already hard and throbbing with anticipation.

"Get on your knees and bend over," Turpin instructed, his voice commanding as he gestured towards one of the benches in the dressing room. You obeyed without hesitation, still limp from your earlier orgasm as Turpin fell to his knees behind you.

With one hand, Turpin spread your ass cheeks wide, his gaze fixed on your little hole with a hunger that made you shiver with anticipation. He wanted nothing more than to plunge into you right then and there, to claim you in every way possible. But he knew he had to be patient, to prepare you properly for what was to come.

For now, he contented himself with your dripping pussy, which he had trained so well since marrying you. With a low growl of desire, Turpin thrust into you with a force that made you cry out in pleasure, the sound echoing in the small confines of the dressing room.

"You're mine, my dear," Turpin growled, his voice dripping with possessiveness as he claimed you as his own. "And I'm going to make you scream my name."

With each thrust, Turpin drove you closer and closer to the edge, his cock filling you completely as he claimed you as his own. And as you surrendered to the pleasure of his touch, you couldn't help but moan in ecstasy, your body trembling with the force of your desire as Turpin ravished you with a passion that left you breathless and begging for more.

Turpin leaned into you, his chest pressing against your back as he panted in your ear, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. "Soon, my dear," he whispered, his voice low and husky with desire. "Soon, I'll fuck all your holes until you're begging for mercy."

You whimpered with each thrust, the pleasure overwhelming as Turpin claimed you as his own. But before you could fully comprehend his words, he silenced you with a firm hand pressed against your throat, his eyes burning with possessiveness as he imagined other people hearing the sweet sounds of your pleasure.

"No one else gets to hear these sounds," Turpin growled, his voice laced with possessive desire. "They're mine, and mine alone. I'll kill any man who dares to lay eyes on you or hear you moan like this."

And as he continued to ravish you with a ferocity that left you breathless, you surrendered to the pleasure of his touch, your trained pussy accepting his dick with eager anticipation. With each thrust, each moan of pleasure, you knew that you belonged to him completely, body and soul, and that there was no escaping his grasp.

Turpin continued to ravish you. His grip on your throat tightened, and his fingers dug into your skin with a possessiveness that left you breathless. You gasped for air, your heart pounding in your chest as Turpin's mouth pressed against your ear. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine.

"You're mine, my dear," Turpin growled, his voice low and husky with desire. "Mine to use, mine to fuck. Your pussy was made for me, and soon your ass will be too."

You whimpered in response, the pleasure of his touch overwhelming as he claimed you as his own. Turpin's cock pounded into you relentlessly, each thrust driving you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

With one hand still wrapped around your throat, Turpin used his free hand to guide yours to his cock, urging you to stroke him in time with his movements. You obeyed without hesitation, your fingers trembling with desire as you pleasured him with eager enthusiasm.

"That's it, my dear," Turpin murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as he felt your hand working his shaft. "Stroke me just like that. You're such a good little slut for me."

You moaned in response, the filthy words sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as Turpin's cock filled you completely. With each thrust, each moan of pleasure, you knew that you belonged to him completely, body and soul, and that there was no escaping his grasp.

As Turpin approached the peak of his own pleasure, he leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered his filthy desires.

"I'm going to come inside you, my dear," Turpin growled, his voice laced with possessive desire. "And you're going to take every last drop, like a good little whore."

You whimpered in response, your body trembling with anticipation as Turpin's cock pounded into you with increasing ferocity. And as he finally reached the brink of ecstasy, you felt him explode inside you, his hot seed filling you to the brim as he claimed you as his own once more.

You cried out in pleasure as you felt the warmth of his release, your own orgasm crashing over you in waves as you surrendered to the pleasure of his touch. And as you lay there in his arms, spent and satisfied, you knew that there was no escaping the clutches of the man who had claimed you as his own.

Turpin held you close, his grip on your throat loosening as he pressed kisses against your skin, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his usual cruelty. He pulled out of you, slipping out with a wet sound before releasing you, letting you fall limply to the floor as he stood up, quickly changing into his normal suit.

You stayed on the floor, catching your breath, feeling a mix of physical and emotional exhaustion. When Turpin realized this, he ordered you to get up and compose yourself.

"Get up," he commanded sharply, his voice cutting through the silence of the dressing room.

You obeyed, slowly getting to your feet and smoothing down your crumpled skirts. You picked up your underwear from the floor, putting them on quickly before watching Turpin tie his tie in front of the full-length mirror. You stood next to him, the silence between you thick with unspoken tension.

As he adjusted his tie, you surprised him by stepping closer and hugging him from behind. It took him by surprise; in the two weeks you had been married, you had never initiated such a gesture. He stiffened slightly under your touch, his back straightening as he glanced at you through the reflection in the mirror.

"What are you doing?" Turpin asked sharply, his voice laced with suspicion.

You didn't let go, your cheek pressed against his back as you murmured softly, "I don't know. I just felt like it."

Turpin remained rigid for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by your unexpected action. His demeanor softened ever so slightly, though his voice retained its edge. "Don't be foolish," he replied gruffly, but he didn't shrug you off. Instead, he allowed you to hold onto him as he continued to adjust his tie.

You stayed like that for a few moments longer, feeling the tension between you begin to ease, if only slightly. Turpin didn't push you away, allowing you to draw comfort from the embrace, however fleeting it might be.

When he finished with his tie, Turpin gently extricated himself from your embrace and turned to face you, his expression unreadable. "Compose yourself," he ordered again, though his voice lacked its usual harshness.

You nodded silently, smoothing your hands over your skirts once more, trying to regain some sense of composure. Turpin watched you for a moment longer before turning away, dismissing the moment as quickly as it had come.

As he walked toward the dressing room door, you followed suit, feeling a mix of confusion and relief. The encounter had been brief, but for a moment, you had glimpsed a different side of Richard Turpin, a side that was not solely driven by cruelty and control.

You knew that such moments would be rare, but in that brief embrace, you had found a glimmer of hope that perhaps, in time, there could be more to your marriage than fear and domination.

Turpin opened the door and gestured for you to exit first, his demeanor reverting to its usual sternness. You stepped out into the shop, feeling a renewed resolve to navigate this new life, however uncertain and terrifying it might be.

As you left the shop together, you glanced at Turpin out of the corner of your eye, wondering what lay ahead for you both. The streets of London stretched out before you, a maze of possibility and danger, and as you walked beside your husband, you knew that you would have to tread carefully to survive.

But for now, you clung to the fleeting comfort of that brief embrace, hoping that it might signal a change, however small, in the harsh reality of your life with Richard Turpin.

[fablefan]

Y'know what I would love to see? A production of Sweeney Todd that plays up the "Demon Barber" epithet by adding in the element that he might, quite literally, be demonically possessed somehow. Even better if it's purposefully ambiguous about whether it's true or not and leaves the audience second-guessing and doubting themselves after it all.

It makes Todd's actions all the more ambiguous and might even make him more sympathetic. Is he actually possessed, and his bloodlust is just its manifestation in the body of a man still grieving his family? Is he one mortal man who's gone mad from his experiences that he starts a murderous campaign against the world around him? Who knows. Sweeney nor the audience does.

It goes from a story about the dangers of taking revenge, but also plays into the similar elements of 'people will do desperate and horrible things if it means getting what they want'.

It also makes him more of a foil to the villain of the story, a religious judge who is also keeping up appearances and hiding his heinous actions.

The idea of "Benjamin Barker is dead, it's Todd now" might not be an exaggeration or a metaphor. Or maybe it is.

Epiphany (noun): a manifestation of a divine or supernatural being.

He's weirdly aggrieved with dates and people's exact words, like he's on a contract or time limit ("'Before the week is out,' that's what he said." // It was due to arrive / At a quarter to five— / And it's six o'clock!")

He dumps bodies to the lower level / ground floor of the theater, which, historically, was referred to as Hell.

Lighting changes and the stage going red when Sweeney kills someone, or potentially when he's plotting or still focused on vengeance alone.

If Sweeney really did bargain with the devil for revenge against Judge Turpin in exchange for something, once the judge is dead and slides down the chute, Sweeney is alone. Truly, finally alone with his thoughts and actions and the numerous lives on his bloody hands, and is being told he can rest now. And then he learns his wife has died at his own hands and his crusade -- whether it really was his own or not -- was all for nothing.

Miss Lovett being just halfway crazy enough herself to see this man who's definitely got something Wrong With Him in more ways than one and still wanting to tap that.

[little-lovett]

sweeney bway round 2 ~ all the little things + my favorite moments 🩶

- toby!!!! daniel marconi was absolutely divine. i really loved his movements, he kind of flails about with a tiny, strange limp. you can tell there’s something off and it just makes him all the more endearing. he’s so loving and his not while i’m around broke my heart into a million pieces

- i forgot how disturbing poor thing is. turpin has this vulture mask on and he just looks so disgusting and cruel. the staging looks like a satanic ritual and really establishes judge turpin as a perverted, evil piece of shit from hell

- mrs. lovett kissing up and down sweeney’s shoulder and beginning to slide his suspenders off just after wait, then someone walks in and she quickly slides it back up (and forgot who LMFAO i was so giddy)

- mrs. lovett genuinely calming affect on sweeney just melts me. they really needed eachother 🫂

- josh & annaleigh are so perfect, they read so genuinely as old friends and apprehensive lovers. they are magnetic. their bond is so palpable and it just makes everything hurt more

- mrs. lovett holding sweeney’s arm and nuzzling her face into his shoulder during pirelli’s

- lucy cries a lot. you can hear her sobbing whenever she’s on stage. she’s clearly very sensitive to men’s anger and is distraught whenever sweeney yells at her. my poor baby 💔

- also during pirelli’s; sweeney rubbing mrs. lovett’s hand and whispering into her ear. it’s def their most mutually affectionate song besides a little priest. felt like their little honeymoon era 🥰

- anthony began to sob at the end of johanna. i interpreted it as him seeing turpin abuse jo cuz he looked horrified. it was really really impactful

- sweeney holding lucy’s body and screaming in grief during toby’s monologue

- during a little priest after the whole privates gag, mrs. lovett was down on her knees and had her hand at sweeney’s groin and they both just stared at eachother it was PERFECTION

- i think a little priest was prob 10 minutes long because josh and annaleigh had SO MUCH interaction. they milked the living shit out of it and i’m so glad they did

anyway this is a fucking spectacular production of the best musical ever written. will not take any other answers thanks. hilarious, heartbreaking, dark, sexy sondheim. it doesn’t get any better. i will be back trust me. GOD, THATS GOOD!

[slashingdisneypasta]

Some Dark!Musical Villain x Reader AU Ideas I'm Fiddling With:

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️ for: DARK THEMES. Age difference galore, fucking your teacher for good grades, sexual assault, innapropriate propositioning, grooming, posessive behaviour, more grooming, adoptive guardian having innapropriate feelings for ward, etc. Quite possibly some murder, too.

Professor Callahan x Reader- (Moulin Rouge AU (Duke Monroth and Satine AU)) You're only getting through law school because you're fucking your teacher, practically selling yourself for a certification- so when a guy your age who's sweet and kind and interested in you comes along, you're forced to break his heart. For a posessive Professor Callahan, and your grades.

Judge Turpin x Reader- (Legally Blonde AU (Prof Callahan and Elle Woods AU)) You're an assistant working under Turpin, the first female to work in such a position in town and you are so proud of yourself and believe Turpin to be an honourable gentleman who believes in you, too!- until he gets you alone one night and all that comes crashing down around you with an expected kiss.

Duke Monroth x Reader- (Phantom of the Opera AU (Erik and Christine Dae AU)) The Duke has slowly imposed himself upon you since you were 18, becoming your tutor in many things in high society. You think he's kind, helping you like this, and so it doesn't occur to you at all that he may intend to shape you into a perfect wife for him. So, when you meet a gentleman at a ball who sweeps you off your feet and you fall in love, you're s h o c k e d at the Duke's furious responce.

The Phantom x Reader- (Sweeney Todd AU(Judge Turpin and Johanna Todd AU)) How you ended up the Phantom's young ward, not even you knew. You didnt remember that far back. But he raised you and so you grew up quite sheltered- but t a l e n t e d. When you eventually come out to society, a mysterious figure in the paris opera, you're the object of many crushes and desires. It's not until one particular boy catches your attention, though, that Erik shows his distaste in the matter of other men being in your life.