#malice!Richard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muiitoloko · 4 months

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Your husband, Your captor.

Summary: After all, you and even Turpin are trapped by his desires.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cruelty, Smut and Dubious Consent.

Author's Notes: This is a story that was lost in my drafts. I never posted it because I didn't like it, but since I've been inactive for a few days, I decided to post it. I didn't proofread it, so there may be some spelling errors.

Turpin returns home after another grueling day at court, his thoughts weighed down by the responsibilities he carries and the desires he harbors. As his servants assist him in shedding his hat and coat, he dismisses Beadle with a terse nod before heading purposefully towards the locked bedroom.

With practiced precision, Turpin retrieves the key from his pocket and unlocks the door, his heart racing with anticipation at the scene that awaits him. There, bound and silenced on the bed, lies his exquisite wife, your wrists twitching in fear as you gazes at him through her restraints.

Turpin's gaze lingers on her vulnerable form, his eyes tracing the contours of her body and the tension in her exposed skin. Despite the coldness of the room, where snowflakes dance outside, a fervent heat of desire consumes him, fueled by the sight of her submissive surrender.

With deliberate slowness, he began to undress, his movements calculated to prolong the agony of anticipation. He shrugged off his jacket and vest, revealing the expanse of his chest and the taut muscles beneath his shirt. His fingers deftly unbuttoned his trousers, allowing them to fall to the floor with a soft thud as he stepped out of them with predatory grace.

Standing before your in nothing but his undergarments, Turpin exuded an aura of power and dominance that left his wife trembling with a mixture of fear and arousal. He prowled towards your like a predator stalking its prey, his gaze never leaving your as he closed the distance between them with purposeful strides.

Reaching out, Turpin traced a finger along the curve of his wife's jaw, relishing the way you flinched at his touch. "You've been a naughty girl, my dear," he purred, his voice dripping with malice. "But fear not, for I am here to teach you obedience."

With a swift motion, he ripped the gag from his wife's mouth, reveling in the way you gasped for breath as the cool air hit your flushed skin. "Please, Richard," You pleaded, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desperation. "Have mercy on me. I'll do anything you ask, just please let me go."

But Turpin only laughed in response, the sound cold and devoid of warmth as he leaned in close to whisper in your ear. "Oh, my dear, you misunderstand," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "I have no intention of letting you go. You are mine to do with as I please, and tonight, I intend to show you just how much I enjoy having you at my mercy."

With that, Turpin grabbed his wife roughly by the hair, pulling your head back to expose your vulnerable neck to his hungry gaze. He leaned in to claim your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste your fear and submission as he reveled in the power he held over your.

As he explored your mouth with relentless fervor, Turpin's hands roamed over your body possessively, tracing every curve and contour with hungry reverence. He relished the feel of your soft skin beneath his fingers, the way you arched into his touch despite your protests, your body betraying your desire even as your mind resisted.

With a growl of need, Turpin tore himself away from his wife's lips, his eyes dark with desire as he gazed down at your with undisguised lust. "Prepare yourself, my dear," he commanded, his voice a low, rumbling growl that sent shivers down your spine. "Tonight, you will learn what it means to truly belong to me."

Turpin discarded his underwear and climbed on top of you, his naked body pressing against yours with relentless force. You begged your lord husband to let go of your wrists, tears streaming down your cheeks as the pain of being restrained for hours threatened to overwhelm you.

"Please, Richard," you pleaded, your voice raw with desperation. "I can't take it anymore. It hurts so much."

But Turpin paid no heed to your cries, his eyes fixed on your hot, well-trained pussy with predatory intensity. He teased you with his fingers, tormenting you with every touch as he reveled in your agony.

"You'll take whatever I give you, my dear," Turpin growled, his voice dripping with malice as he continued to torture you with his caresses. "You belong to me, body and soul, and tonight, I intend to claim every inch of you."

You instinctively tried to close your legs, but Turpin's wrath descended upon you, his hand hitting your thigh with brutal force. You screamed in pain as he grabbed your legs, forcibly pulling them apart with a force that bordered on cruelty, almost tearing you apart in his relentless pursuit of pleasure.

"Fuck, yes, that's it," Turpin hissed, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight as he gazed down at your exposed body. "You look so fucking beautiful like this, all spread out for me. I could spend hours just admiring the way you squirm beneath me, begging for mercy that will never come."

With a wicked grin, Turpin lowered his head between your legs, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your sensitive folds. He relished the taste of your arousal, the way you quivered beneath him as he teased you with slow, deliberate strokes.

"You like that, don't you, my dear?" Turpin taunted, his voice a low, husky murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "You're such a filthy little whore, getting wet for your lord husband like this. But don't worry, I'll make sure you're properly taken care of."

As Turpin continued to torment you with his tongue, you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, your body aching with need as it yearned for release. But Turpin had other plans in mind, his fingers dancing tantalizingly close to your throbbing clit as he denied you the satisfaction you craved.

"Please, Richard," you begged, your voice a desperate plea for mercy. "I need you, please, just let me come."

But Turpin only laughed in response, his dark eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as he continued to toy with you mercilessly. "Not yet, my dear," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "You'll come when I say you can come, and not a moment sooner. Now, be a good little slut and hold still while I fuck you senseless."

As Turpin stood up and positioned himself between your legs, a glint of anger flashed in his eyes, adding an unsettling intensity to his usual demeanor. With a swift motion, he pulled one of your ankles over his shoulder, his grip firm and unyielding as he entered you with a force that bordered on brutality.

You gasped in surprise at the sudden intrusion, your body tensing instinctively as Turpin filled you completely. But there was no time for hesitation as he began to thrust into you with a relentless fervor, his movements rough and unyielding as he claimed you as his own.

And as he charged at you with dogged determination, his words filled the air with a chilling sense of authority. Your husband spoke of the cases he presided over in court, the fools he sentenced to hang, and the measures he took to keep the city free of undesirables.

"You see, my dear," Turpin growled, his voice dripping with malice as he continued to fuck you without mercy. "It's my duty to uphold the law and maintain order in this city. And if that means disposing of a few nuisances along the way, then so be it. They deserve whatever fate awaits them for defying my authority."

With each word, Turpin's anger seemed to intensify, his thrusts becoming more forceful and erratic as he vented his frustrations on your helpless body. You could feel the weight of his rage pressing down on you, threatening to crush you beneath its oppressive weight as he used you to satisfy his own twisted desires.

But even as Turpin ranted and raved, you couldn't help but feel a perverse thrill coursing through your veins. Despite the pain and humiliation of being used in such a manner, there was a part of you that reveled in the sheer power and dominance he exuded, the raw intensity of his passion igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing moment.

As Turpin continued to fuck you with ruthless abandon, you found yourself moaning in a mixture of pleasure and pain, your cries mingling with his in a symphony of depravity. Each thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your body, building to an unbearable crescendo that threatened to consume you completely.

"Ohh" you groaned, your voice a desperate plea for more as Turpin drove you to the brink of ecstasy. "Fuck me, Richard. Fuck me hard, you filthy bastard."

As Turpin calmed above you, his relentless thrusts coming to a sudden halt, frustration gnawed at the edges of your consciousness. You were so close, teetering on the precipice of ecstasy, only to have it cruelly snatched away from you at the last moment.

"Damn you, Turpin," you spat, your voice laced with anger and desperation as you glared up at him with tear-filled eyes. "You cruel bastard!"

But before you could utter another word, the sting of his palm against your cheek silenced you, sending shockwaves of pain reverberating through your skull. You cried out in agony, the force of the blow leaving your head spinning as tears welled up in your eyes.

Turpin stood above you, his gaze dark with a mixture of awe and contempt as he surveyed the aftermath of his actions. It never ceased to amaze him how your defiant spirit persisted, no matter how hard he tried to break you, to bend you to his will.

"You insolent little bitch," Turpin growled, his voice dripping with disdain as he reached out to caress the cheek he had just struck. But you recoiled from his touch, turning your face away in a futile attempt to escape his cruel ministrations.

"Don't touch me, you bastard," you hissed, your voice trembling with anger and resentment. "Let me go. I've been tied up here all day, in the cold, without food or water. I'm fucking hungry!"

But Turpin only laughed in response, a cold, humorless sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Hungry, are you?" he taunted, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. "Well, my dear, hunger is a powerful motivator. Perhaps it will teach you to be more obedient in the future."

The bitterness of his words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling raw and exposed beneath his merciless gaze. This wasn't what you had imagined when you agreed to marry him, to become his wife and bear his children. You had thought he would be different, kinder, but now you saw the truth for what it was: Turpin was a cruel, heartless bastard, and you were nothing more than a possession to him.

"Turpin, please," you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion as you struggled against your restraints. "Let me go. I'll do anything you ask, just please, let me go."

Turpin scoffed at the notion, a derisive sneer twisting his lips as he regarded you with contempt. "Let you go?" he repeated incredulously, his voice dripping with disdain. "And why would I do that, my dear, when I've spent thousands of pounds for you? Your father sold you to me, like a horse, and I paid a good price for you. I intend to make it worth every penny."

Your heart sank at his callous words, the weight of his cruelty pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Was this all you were to him? An object to be bought and sold at his whim, a possession to be used and discarded as he pleased?

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to comprehend the depth of his indifference, the realization of your own insignificance cutting through you like a knife. Was this what it meant to be married to Judge Turpin, to live your life at the mercy of a man who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end?

Turpin paid no heed to your silent anguish, his gaze fixed on you with a cold intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He seemed eager to hit you again, to inflict more pain upon you as punishment for your perceived transgressions.

But as he reached out to soothe the cheek he had just struck, his hand froze in midair, his gaze locked with yours in a silent battle of wills. There was something in your eyes, a glimmer of defiance amidst the tears, that gave him pause, causing him to reconsider his next move.

"What is it, my dear?" Turpin finally spoke, his voice low and measured as he searched your face for answers. "What do you want from me?"

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you as you struggled to find the words to express the tumult of emotions raging within you. "I... I wanted to love you, Richard," you whispered, your voice trembling with vulnerability. "I wanted to believe that you were kind, loving, and intelligent. I built an idea of you in my mind, an idea where we would be happy together. But I didn't expect the truth to be so... painful."

Turpin's expression softened imperceptibly, a flicker of regret flashing in his dark eyes as he listened to your confession. For a moment, it seemed as though he might relent, might acknowledge the pain he had caused you and seek to make amends.

But then, as if on cue, his features hardened once more, his resolve strengthening as he fortified himself against the memories of past betrayals. "Women," he spat, his voice laced with bitterness. "Damned seducers who manipulate and use men for their own ends. I will never allow myself to fall for their charms again."

Your heart sank at his words, the crushing weight of his indifference pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. It was clear now that Turpin had no intention of changing, no desire to be the man you had hoped he would be.

"And what of my feelings, Richard?" you choked out, your voice trembling with anguish. "Do they mean nothing to you?"

Turpin's gaze hardened, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity as he regarded you with cold detachment. "Your feelings are of no consequence to me, my dear," he declared, his voice devoid of emotion. "All I require from you is your submission, and rest assured, I will have it, whether you want it or not."

With that, Turpin went back to fucking you, his movements relentless and unforgiving as he drove himself deeper into your trembling body. You could feel the pressure building within you, the ache of unfulfilled desire threatening to consume you whole as he claimed you as his own once more.

With one hand pressed firmly against your mouth to stifle your cries, Turpin gripped your thigh with his other hand, pulling your leg around his waist to gain a better angle. His thrusts grew more urgent, more desperate, as he sought to quench the fire that burned within him, a fire fueled by his insatiable lust for you.

"Why did you have to be so good?" Turpin growled, his voice a low, guttural moan that sent shivers down your spine. "Why did you have to make me want you so much? You're nothing but a common whore, yet I can't seem to get enough of you."

You could feel the heat of his anger radiating off him in waves, mingling with the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex that hung heavy in the air. Despite the pain and humiliation of being used in such a manner, there was a part of you that reveled in the sheer power and dominance he exuded, the raw intensity of his passion igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing moment.

"Why do you make me want you so much?" Turpin demanded, his voice thick with frustration as he continued to pound into you with relentless force. "Why can't you just be like the others, content to satisfy my needs without question? Why do you have to challenge me at every turn, defying me at every opportunity?"

But even as he ranted and raved, you could sense the underlying desperation in his voice, the desperate longing for something he could never truly possess. For all his power and authority, Judge Turpin was a man haunted by his own demons, trapped in a cycle of self-loathing and resentment that threatened to consume him whole.

As Turpin's thrusts grew more erratic, more desperate, you could feel yourself teetering on the brink of oblivion, your body wracked with pleasure as he drove you ever closer to the edge. And as he reached his own climax, his release washing over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy, you couldn't help but feel a sense of bittersweet satisfaction wash over you, a fleeting moment of connection amidst the chaos and despair.

Cumming deep inside you, Turpin collapsed on top of you, his head buried between your breasts as he listened to the rhythm of your heartbeat. In that moment, with your bodies entwined in a tangle of sweat and desperation, it was as if time stood still, the world falling away around you as you clung to each other in silent communion.

But even as you lay there, your breaths mingling in the stillness of the night, you knew that this moment was fleeting, a mere respite from the storm that raged within you both. Turpin may have sated his desires for now, but the demons that haunted him would always linger, lurking in the shadows, waiting to drag him back into the darkness from which he came.

And as he lay there, lost in his own thoughts, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man who had become your husband, your captor, your tormentor. For in the end, Judge Turpin was just as much a prisoner of his own desires as you were, trapped in a cycle of pain and despair that neither of you could ever hope to escape.

#alan rickman #judge turpin #judge turpin x reader #sweeney todd #alan rickman x reader

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anhed-nia · 3 months

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R.O.T.O.R. -- AGAIN!

Even ripoffs can be beautiful.

I am writing about R.O.T.O.R., neither for the first time nor the last, because something new strikes me about this startling movie every time I see it. Its amazing premise, which amply rips off THE TERMINATOR and JUDGE DREDD (but not ROBOCOP, oddly, which began shooting after R.O.T.OR., also in Dallas) provides fertile ground for all sorts of useful interpretation. This time I was most struck by the fact that R.O.T.O.R. is all about jobs and going to work.

The story concerns "police scientist" Captain Coldyron (cold-iron) who has invented the Robotic Officer Tactical Operations Research/Reserve, a T-800 type of android made out of a "self-teaching alloy" that can kick anybody's ass. Coldyron resigns in a huff when his boss conspires with local politicians to rush the lawbot to market, and the project races forward dysfunctionally until R.O.T.O.R. inevitably busts lose and starts killing people for minor mischief. Coldyron hooks up with the robot's coauthor Dr. Steel (female bodybuilder Jayne Smith who is like something out of Crying Freeman, which I mean as the highest compliment) to hunt their creation down and destroy it.

Coldyron is played by Richard Gesswein, who was also created in a lab.

That might sound pretty action-packed, but in execution R.O.T.O.R. is heavily focused on the drudgery of daily life. Enormous amounts of time are spent walking through parking lots, traversing the atria of hotels, finding parking, being seated in restaurants, and most of all, spending hours and hours at work, making countless phone calls. You have never seen so many people on the phone in a movie in your entire life. There's work phones, home phones, payphones, and even CB radios. At times it feels as if you may never see more than one person on the same set again. On the phones, people say things to each other that have already been said earlier in the movie if not earlier in the same scene, if not earlier in the same monologue. In the scene where Coldyron learns that R.O.T.O.R. has gone rogue, he delivers this incredible screed during one of THREE calls that he makes in a row:

"Its last program was prime directive... Prime directive to our ROTOR unit is judge and execute. It stops felons, judges the crime, and executes sentence. Justice served, COD. You call the Senator and you tell him ROTOR walked through a busload of nuns to get to a jaywalker, with malice towards no one. It won't stop. It wasn't ready. Its brain functions are incomplete. It can't think twice, can't reason, can't change its prime directive. It's like a chainsaw set on frappe..."

It begins to feel as if he will never stop reiterating whatever he (and others) just said, and this is not the only such example.

Most of these calls, like all of the activity in the movie, are focused on jobs. Coldyron calls his girlfriend first thing in the morning to tell her that he is getting ready for work, and to ask her if she is also getting ready to go to work at her own job. He promises that "if you're a good girl and go to work" then he will grill steaks at her house later. When he goes out to buy charcoal for the reward steaks he stumbles upon two creeps robbing the store and trying to take a hostage--a woman who stops the crime with several karate kicks, to whom he says "Hey lady, you want a job?" Meanwhile at the police robot lab, a scientist slaves away while complaining about the impossible new R.O.T.O.R. deadline as the comic relief security bot whines, sighs, and says "One of these days I'm gonna quit this job!" (Later on he actually does) Once R.O.T.O.R. has escaped we meet the Linda Hamilton of this movie (Margaret Trigg), who is having a vicious fight in the car with her fiance because she wants to get a job; the fiance wants to forgo the "barbaric ritual" of the wedding and just be automatically married to a woman who will not embarrass him by getting a job. Finally he concedes, "Elope with me tonight and I'll help you get a job after the honeymoon," but it's too late for all that because he's speeding and about to get killed by R.O.T.O.R.

For extra job-related realism there is workplace harassment in the form of a guy who tries to fuck his colleague by describing ancient execution methods and who calls her a white supremacist for turning him down (he says he's Native American, she says he's not, I don't know the right answer because this is the actor's only credit--and actually he's uncredited for the role, though he is acknowledged for composing the movie's primitive synth soundtrack which I kind of enjoy). It's also worth mentioning that the comedy droid is a real robot with a job, according to iMDB (sadly there is not a wealth of info on this movie):

"Willard the Robot is played by APD2, a robot purchased in 1986 by the police department of the Town of Addison, a northern suburb of Dallas, for $17,750 (approximately $41,000 in 2018 dollars). APD2/Willard performed public relations duties and was tapped to lead the Christmas parade in Addison that year. His contributions to actual law enforcement and his subsequent whereabouts are unknown. "As quoted from 'theoldrobots' website; 'Officer Willi from 1985 - This 21st Century Robotics robot was operated by remote control, showed videos about public safety, and was used in teaching important safety topics such as stranger awareness, traffic safety, and much more..'"

Coldyron is actually a very good prototype of the modern tech mogul who has way too much time on his hands and whose existence is mainly composed of heroic fantasies about himself, whether he is molding the future face of law enforcement, or dicking around on his enormous ranch where he lamely practices his lasso technique on tree stumps before blowing them up with dynamite. At the office he demands "hydrogenated wheat germ and dessicated liver" which boosts his handball game, and I thought, jesus christ I think I've worked for this guy. Coldyron is *I think* the hero of this movie but I'm never sure how much you're really supposed to like him; when his girlfriend sends him out for charcoal so he can cook her reward steaks, he goes to a mini mart and just starts looking for trouble, harassing minorities and flashing his gun. It's like, this is the reason there are loitering laws, but naturally they don't apply when you're a rich cop.

Someone please make these stickers!

The best way to understand R.O.T.O.R. is through the knowledge that director and co-writer Cullen Blaine worked on a variety of popular cartoon shows during what they call "the dark age of animation". First of all, there are scenes in this movie whose aesthetic, humor, and internal logic only begin to make sense if you imagine them taking place in an episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles--and actually much if not all of the dialog was dubbed by a whole other cast due to problems with getting the stars back for ADR, creating a whole other layer of literal cartoonishness. But the period in which Cullen Blaine created R.O.T.O.R. and designed many children's shows was dominated by what's called "limited animation" which I almost don't even have to describe. It's all in the name, the goal was to do things as cheaply as possible while turning out dozens of episodes per season. Part of the problem was, as with all things, Ronald Reagan, whose deregulation activities defanged measures to make sure children's programming was not just a steady stream of hard sell marketing. Under Reagan, the requirement for some portion of programs to be educational became so easy to meet and manipulate that animation studios were compelled to crank out zillions of Trojan horse toy ads with glib moral declarations tacked on. (I think I understand this correctly, I'm sure @bogleech has better material on the subject) Animators are a historically abused lot with a sad history of failed strikes, and I'm just extrapolating here, but I bet it's reasonable to guess that R.O.T.O.R. reflects the filmmaker's experiences in the grueling cartoon mines. The brutal sacrifice of quality to speed, the hostile work environments, and the endless, redundant calls and meetings, all smack of a script by someone who has had a very bad job.

"We've all got plenty of time to figure out what this means to each one of us," Coldyron sagely concludes at the end of his misadventure. Obviously I am still working on what it means to me, since this is the fourth or fifth time I've seen this movie and (at least?) the second time I'm writing about it. I will say that while the film I have just described sounds intolerably boring--I mean, a whole movie about rat race drudgery with the fewest and least convincing action sequences ever--but believe me, it is not boring. R.O.T.O.R. is constantly surprising and fascinating, with weirdly vivid imagery and pages and pages of the strangest dialog you will hear anywhere. Just watch the movie and let it shock you. You'll have plenty of time to figure out what it means to you later.

#not blogtober #r.o.t.o.r.#sci-fi #science fiction #action #cullen blaine #richard gesswein #jayne smith #margaret trigg

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