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sorryimdyingrn · 4 days

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One of my favorites in writing Snape smut

I bestow upon you a request that I will satiate the Worm for a bit:

Severus is feeling all pent up one day until he can't take it anymore. He cancels his last potions class of the day and makes you cancel yours as well (you feign illness). He eats you out and has his way with you on his desk (office or classroom, up to you!)

All hail the Worm. 🪱🍎

Laziness has taken ahold of me with the strength of a thousand suns. I'm in my head again. Gross.

All Hail The Worm 🫡🪱🍎

Severus Snape x Reader - Table Contents

Severus never had much time for himself. He was never fortunate enough to have the time or ability to do something spontaneously. There was always something occupying his time, ensuring that it was either bustling with activity or well-spent. A significant portion of this involved being Albus's guinea pig double agent, his own personal one-man suicide squad, which left him with little besides the frustration and stress that accumulated over time until it became visibly evident in his already sour demeanor.

He was fully aware of his actions and understood that as long as her son remained safe, it was a worthwhile endeavor. However, maintaining such rigorous schedules was mentally overwhelming. There was an overabundance of tasks that seemed never-ending.

Until finally, he'd had it.

The Ministry, the Order, Hogwarts duties, and anything related to Albus was overwhelming. His senses were exhausted, and his mind was flooded with a multitude of anxieties that he could no longer bear. Even the slightest sound, such as a quill dropping, could trigger him that day, let alone a hapless student who accidentally spilled more Standard Ingredient than necessary into his cauldron, ruining the entire assignment for himself. Gryffindor lost fifteen house points before the end of the class, but when the next group of sixth years arrived an hour later, they were greeted with the sight of a dismantled classroom, devoid of their Professor, without a single lesson plan, book, or anything else in sight.

One floor above in the Muggle Studies classroom, you were diligently engrossed in a book you had discovered at Tomes and Scrolls. You were meticulously examining the pages for any significant information when the door abruptly and unexpectedly opened, allowing Severus to enter with no more than a wave of his hand to slam the door shut just as swiftly.

Your eyes were trained on his frame as he crossed the room, quick to enter your office with a resolve you only ever saw in him just before a scolding or the like. The book was set aside, your hands clasped together watching him plant both of his own on the desk to lean closer.

"What have I done this time? Allegedly, of course." You queried with a playful smile.

"You've been injured during a demonstration of a dangerous muggle item." He said matter-of-factly. "Classes have been suspended. As far as the school knows, you will be spending the remainder of the evening under my care."

Now that, you'd yet to understand.

"A.. what? An injury?" You asked softly, uncertainty clear in your answer.

He nodded as if this was common knowledge. "An injury."

His hand reached for yours. Naturally you took it, promptly getting a feel for how his grip was far too tight. He looked tired, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. Restlessness was a given for him, you reminded yourself as you circled the desk to see him up close.

Most would be perturbed by such an age difference, not than anyone knew of our rendezvous in the first place, but to you it was.. exciting. Like you could be his spoilt little thing and snatch away that hot-headed composure of his all in one day and it'd be perfect all around.

"... And how exactly have I sustained such a drastic affliction?" You queried curiously. Your eyes went down to his neck to see him swallow hard.

His hand inched up your arm, hooked on the sleeve he pulled upward to bring it close, roll it up, and nibble at supple skin.

"Clumsiness." Was his answer.

Your brow quirked, two and two finally put together while he left a warm trail of love bites up your inner forearm.

".. Do you wanna talk about it?" You asked, reaching out to undo the very top button of his robes since he seemed to be having such a difficult time keeping himself in check.

The offer presented to him was rarely accepted. Severus was not known to be romantic, nor was he known to discuss personal matters, even with you. At times, it was a challenge to comprehend his thoughts and emotions, much less so his actions. However, when you gazed into his eyes, the profound depth of withheld emotionality within their shadowy depths.. that was sufficient. It would do for now.

A glimpse of his tongue came into view from the very edge of your vision before its warmth connected with your ear and neck's junction. You shivered when his hand wrapped around to tangle in stubborn locks and angle your head to his need.

Severus loved the reactions he could coax out of her, the way she stopped all attempts at questioning him when he touched any part of her skin with intent. In fact, that was his motive for coming up here in the first place. He wanted a break from his duties, from all the needless efforts and hopeless students. There was no point to teaching students who had no drive when he could learn about his sweet young thing. Her triggers, her needs, that spot just beneath the wiring of her bra that made her blush and look away with a shiver whenever he grabbed at it.

With her it was easy, untroubled, serene, and most importantly.. varied. He could do any number of things and she still might not crack, or he could do little more than ghost his knee up her thighs and she might moan. It was all a mystery to be learned by him, to be explored with his hands and mouth, and by God he wouldn't dare let that go to waste.

His hands were rough, pulling at your hair and breathing you in as he descended, pushing at contours of soft flesh to forge a path down your tummy, and when your backside hit the desk you gained an inkling of what he had in mind.

"Severus.." As his hand gently touched the hem of my skirt, you took a deep breath and paused. He looked up at you with a hazy gaze, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips when you shuddered in amorous expectancy.

Slowly, he closed both fists around the bottom of the skirt and lifted, the fabric rising until you were fully exposed for him to see. Severus was wasting no time - not the small allowances of freedom he'd stolen for himself, and certainly not the things he could be doing to you right now.

Before you knew it he was lowered on his knees, guiding those perfect legs apart with steady hands, your body acting in turn to hop up on the desk.

And then he was delving into your eager core, lapping at your heat with slow strokes of his tongue that had your body melting into him. It was delectable, the wet sounds emitted only drowned out by your sweet, wavering moans. With every tantalizing lick and nip you couldn't help but make a sound, shaky hands closing around his head in desperation. You gave a few light bucks, your hips pressing further against his face, and in return he made a heated sound of his own. A muffled grunt (quieted by your trembling, aching thighs) left his lips. The vibrations from his drawls went through you like a fire, sending wave after wave of ecstacy up your tummy.

"S-Shit.." You shuddered, those tiny jerks and needy movements all Severus needed to spur him on.

"Quiet, dear." He pulled back just long enough to muttur before going back down on you faster, more fervently.

He ate you up like a young man starved, drinking your juices, the proof of your enjoyment, might make him whole once more. His tongue moved fast against your clit, down to your entrance with protruding licks, then back up again, a pattern he remembered very well after the very first time you came on his face.

"F-Fuck.. Severus-"

"- Quiet.." It was thoroughly enunciated this time, and left no room for argument. Not toward him.

The longer it went on the closer you got to cumming, especially when he found a rhythm that had you panting and tensing up with every touch. You clung to his head, your back arching slightly, that familiar pressure building in your middle. The nearer it came, the more you shook under his attentive ministrations, and in turn the tighter he gripped you to keep you still.

But even then he couldn't stop your whimpering jerks, or how your beautiful voice got a little higher with each throaty plea.

Soon after, you let out a broken cry, grinding your hips against his eagerly lapping mouth, his crooked nose nudging your clit and intensifying every wave of your orgasm as sweet nectar rolled out of you and onto his waiting tongue.

Then he was pulling back up, and in your afterglowed daze you heard the sound of a belt buckle just before his leaking tip pressed against your still-throbbing pussy.

You hardly had time to catch your breath, much less so register him putting one of your legs up on his shoulder, so when he pushed in and started fucking you stupid all you could do was grab ahold of his arms and moan.

He was not gentle this time, no build up or tender kisses to go along with slow thrusts. No, this was a frenzied fuck. A need. A carnate sense of pleasure he was chasing with everything he had.

"We'll get caught if you don't.. hah-.. restrain yourself." He groaned quietly, a warning given through heavy breaths and delicious grunts, his cock sliding in and out of your gratifying cunt like it was made for him.

You just held onto him tighter and let your head fall back against the desk.

"Ooh, god.." You whined, your eyes closed and brows furrowed, unable to breathe without it coming out as some high-pitched depravity. "Yes, yes yes-"

Your sultry praises were interrupted by a hand coming down on your mouth, clamped tight across your entire jaw to stop your senseless ramblings. "Shut.. up." His voice muttured in a pressing rasp, low and whispered in between ramped up bucks.

His sudden increase in speed only made it more difficult to keep quiet, your muffled whines coming out as mewls that burst free with every buck he gave. You could feel your desk scraping the cobbled floor the harder he went, and in those short moments when you forced yourself to breathe, you could hear it, too. You would've smiled about it - chuckled even - if it weren't for the fact that he was now going so hard he was hitting your cervix, and you were sure he'd found the pace at which he might get out his frustrations.

A piss poor attempt to pull at his hand told you he was lost in the moment, testing his limits, maybe seeing just how hard he could go before he absolutely had to cum.

Maybe that was why he ate you out beforehand. Perhaps he knew what he'd be doing right after, what he'd be going for on that very desk on which you laid atop, the papers underneath you, the book beside you long forgotten as he railed you silly.

"Mm-.. m, mm-"

Anything you tried to say came out useless, unintelligible nonsense amidst the sound of skin slapping skin and Severus's heavy breathing. How he managed to keep from moaning was beyond you, what with one hand clamped over your loud mouth, the other holding your leg still where it laid on his shoulder, and his cock pistoning into your throbbing heat like an animal.

"J-.. a little more, you silly girl," he offered the slightest sympathy, the words spewed out between sporadic humps. He turned his head to place a breathless kiss against your bent, quivering leg.

You held his wrist tighter the more uneven his thrusts became, until finally he groaned deeply once, then again, before burying every inch of himself to the hilt and emptying his cock of its hot ropes of cum, the thick substance coating both his length and your walls in hot spurts as his grunts turned to languid moans.

By the time he was finished, you were both beaded with sweat, satisfied and aching in all the right places.

As soon as he was able, he was helping to get you sat up, brushing now unruly hair back out of your face and adjusting your skirt to recover you.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly, a tinge of concern flashing in his worn out gaze.

"Mhm," you nodded, your forehead finding its resting spot where your leg used to be on his shoulder. "You?"

"Much better." He sighed with a nod, raking cqreful fingers through your messy, tangled hair.

Admittedly, he felt bad for being so rough with you, especially with no explanation, but as long as you were okay right now he could handle getting you some sort of apology gift (or maybe a thank you gift?) later.

For now, he was content to simply hold you, to whisper sweet nothings in your ear while you played with the endless line of buttons on his robes and worked to finally catch your breath.

#snape smut #severus snape #pro severus snape #smut #not sfw

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sorryimdyingrn · 5 days

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RELLLLLLLL

Defending Severus Snape is not enough. I need a fucking gun

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sorryimdyingrn · 7 days

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I just realized the grave mistake that I didn't follow you yet but GodDAMN THAT WAS GOOD 🔥🔥🔥

In continuation of the 'pillow prince/ss/' topic.. Snape sex hcs? I remember you said it's basically impossible to drag him into bed but I'D TRY.

You're just spoiling me, aren'tcha? First Remus now Sev... Severus Snape is devoted to duty. Its the only thing holding him together. How often does he even go to bed…? A full-time teacher, a spy, a death eater, Dumbledore's dark little knight - He probably considers the time he spends marking 'rest enough'.

His self-esteem is dead. So dead he has come to terms with its corpse and uses it as protection. He's been teased his entire life for his looks. By his parents, by his schoolmates, by his teachers, by his cult, by his students... He's proud of how it has hardened him. It's become part of his ego: He's heard it all before - and now the words run off his oily feathers like raindrops.

Having someone say they think him anything less than hideous? Baffling. But while Remus would become a flustered mess... I think Severus would stages-of-grief it. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression… Because his romantic, affectionate side is also a corpse. It died alongside his best friend and he's spent the last decade-and-a-half making sure it stays buried.

To bring it back? That will take a stubborn dedication that rivals his. It takes grit and damn near necromancy. He will fight back, too - because to raise it from the dead is to raise Lily along with it. That is the greatest hurdle: Best friend or love of his life - either way she was the only person he has been affectionate with. He will need to digest that. He hasn't worked through his grief yet, because it is a difficult thing to work through alone. …but he CAN reach Acceptance.

One step, one stage at a time - peeling down each layer of his onion, like an ogre... Things move slowly with Severus - and in the opposite order you might expect. I guess I will go through what a relationship would be like with Severus, in a sorta dot-point fanfic format:

First note: He is allergic to showing weakness - and what he considers a weakness can be... strange. Indulgence. Emotions, affection, touch, company - he has no time for that garbage. He is in control of himself, of his body, of his feelings, of his life. Meticulous, complete control. This man 'tops' exclusively**

He is ashamed of masturbation. It means he has lost control of his emotions - and it grinds against his ego like sandpaper. He almost never does it. Thinking about anyone in particular when doing it is an insult to them - and he hates feeling guilty. He keeps it simple and almost self-harmingly dry. He has more important things to be doing with his time than engaging with this weakness…

You make your interest in him clear. He goes through everything - he belittles and denies your feelings, he gets angry with you for bothering him, he asks you to stop saying such nonsense... and he gets frustrated that even when you've finally shut up, he is STILL dwelling on it. He spends so long just tossing things up, sorting through his grief, imagining it... so, SO sick of jerking off… …when the dam bursts - he fucks. If he is going to be spending all this time obsessing over these stupid feelings he may as well get something out of it. Only sex, though. Sex he is in control of. Clothes on, greedy, not pretty, not nice. 'Thats what you wanted from me, yes? Well you've gotten it. Happy?!?' ((He does not expect the answer to be 'yes'.))

He thinks one time was too many, and did it only to take it off his mind - and to stop having you bother him about it. But it is easier for you to get him to do it a second time. And then a third... fourth... The more times it happens - and nothing embarrassing or bad follows... well, if he has done it once, he may as well do it more, right…? You are evidently trustworthy. '…You may come to my chambers IF I call - at no other times. I am too busy to play silly games.' A casual physical relationship - to solve a problem of distraction and concentration. That's all.

He does start to call. Occasionally at first - and every time he almost shows surprise that you actually turn up. But he gets less and less surprised... and starts getting more and more needy. 'You're late. I sent for you half an hour ago. Do you think I am made of time?!' He doesn't even realize how needy he sounds, because this activity is now ingrained in his routine. He is used to it. And because he is used to it: He touches more. More clothes come off. But never his own. He has gone from 'hands-on-waist' fucking to caressing your naked body - slow rolls of his hips, making his own breathe shudder, enjoying every sensation.

One day his summons aren't replied to. At first he angry. How dare you. How DARE you waste his time!? The next time they are alone he snaps at you bitterly. 'Finally tired of me? Got your fill? Met a better man?' When the response is more along the lines of 'I was a bit ill' or 'I was out'... he realizes he has shown far too much of his hand. How embarrassing. He is speechless at his own foolishness. He showed an inch of vulnerability and expects to be raked through the coals for it. ...What he doesn't expect is acceptance, tenderness and respect.

He had forgotten that he wasn't the one to initiate this arrangement - that he was wanted. Desired. In his mind he had taken control: Everything happened when he wanted, where he wanted and in whichever way he wished. To be touched in a friendly way? To he apologized to - for being made to worry? To have make-up sex offered…? '…Yes. Alright.' Its the next layer peeled off. He starts listening to offers, enjoying being asked instead of being answered. It's still a casual affair - and yet seeing them talk to other people no longer makes his hackles raise in concern for his secrets. Running into them in the morning no longer makes his skin crawl with shame and embarrassment for the night before. He feels excited when they pay a visit in the midday, offering an impromptu meeting. It is oddly... comfortable.

Of course it can't always be sex in the midday. It is too much effort, takes too much time, energy and clean-up. It suits him fine when you jump on the chance to put him in your mouth. At first he is a little taken-aback - but it feels nice. He says nothing other than contented hums, but as you get better he groans and arcs his back a little. He doesn't care what happens when he finishes - swallow or not, as long as it is not a mess for him to clean up. …Well, he tries to be that callous about it… but it doesn't last long. There is a tenderness to the act he can't deny. It isn't the mutual-benefit fucking. This is a gift for him to enjoy. That realization settles and festers in him. It creates a soft feeling he doesn't recognize... and a desire not to owe you anything.

So, without much fanfare: he reciprocates. He gets you on his seat, or on his desk, and gets down on his knees... He is a little nervous about it - when was the last time he did this, if ever…? - But he has no need to be. He is a god with his mouth. It's his attention to detail. His devotion to getting things done thoroughly and properly - even this. What starts as an embarrassing action from the weakness of his heart turns into a strong pleasure for him. He LOVES oral. It isn't him losing control: it's him gaining it. Even when his hair is gripped and yanked, even if he is pulled close and suffocated a little on you - HE is making that happen. HE is making you do that. He never expected this to make him so happy, so hot. He never expected to undo the buttons of his high collar so his neck could move more easily, to unbutton and fold up his right sleeve so he could get his hands messy... To have enough fun to start saying some truly dirty things… 'That good, is it~?' 'My-! How delicate you are today!' 'Stop squirming. Too sensitive…? Just grit your teeth and bear it.' ...and he didn't expect to not be laughed at for such things.

He certainly didn't expect to get so into it that he kissed you to shut you up as you came. A shock to both of you… another wall crumbled. Turns out he likes that too. He starts initiating sexual activity with a kiss. He prefers kissing to talking. It is succinct and expressive. Walk into his office: as soon as the door is shut your back is pressed against it, wrists in his hands, his mouth against yours. If he starts losing control of the kiss he gently bites your lip, dragging his teeth along it teasingly. Your tongue invades his mouth before he has a chance to do it first: he just about shoves your hands into his robes, tearing into your clothes... This man lives for kissing now.

But he still doesn't realize this is more than casual, that this is something he needs… Until you chat. Its a quiet moment. You comment on the parchments rolled at the edge of his desk. 'Oh - that is just my own research into the effects of aconite. I had to work with it extensively a few years ago.' You take an interest, and he starts regaling deeper and deeper into his studies: how poorly documented others' research is; how it reacts to other ingredients; how modern brewing processes can draw so much more out of it - 'you know, the plant is often just passed off as toxic when even basic purification charms are enough to-' ...He is blabbering. On and on about a dull topic nobody cares about… yet you are listening. His jaw drops a little. He realizes that, for the first time in two decades, someone cares. Someone truly cares. About HIM. His thoughts, his interests... He never thought he could have this again. He didn't think that for the sex, either - but sex, compared to this, was easy to procure. He wants to kiss you again. But not for lust this time.

Suddenly it doesn't feel so embarrassing to allow his eyes to become wet, to draw a shuddering breathe as he builds the courage - of which he has masses of - to say something important: '…I am afraid I have come to love you.' It is a terrifying thing to say, but he has never once shied away from saying what is important, even if it results in pain. And yet this time, for once… he feels like he can trust that it wont.

** Many times later, he is laying down as his shirt gets unbuttoned, his collarbone kissed... He doesn't feel ashamed, even as he gently strokes his own dick, encouraging it to harden. He pulls his arms from his shirt sleeves, fearless of his dark mark being exposed. For once work is at the back of his mind as he allows himself to be pushed back down to into the pillows, chuckling as he is told: 'Shh… just lay still darling… I'll take care of you tonight…' ...And he does. Control well out of his hands and a smile on his face.

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sorryimdyingrn · 8 days

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Three of them actually. And the collection is only getting bigger 😈😈😈

If you're fifteen or older an still sleep with a stuffed animal please reblog this.

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sorryimdyingrn · 8 days

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I love it even more now ❤️❤️❤️

Do you think you could write an alternative ending to the fic with Snape and the vibrator attached to him where she finally does let him cum and praises him?🤭🥴

Hell yeah, Bat. I like the way you think.

🖤💚🦇🐛🪱

[Recap]

"Mm... god, no-. fuck, fuck.. ngh-"

He jerked his hips into thin air, which only made the vibrations worse, his chest billowing and hands white-knuckled against fabricated restraints. Sweat glistened across his skin and all the precum had made it's way down to his balls. The Slytherin scarf depriving him of his vision was as irritating as it was symbolically hot, but he was at his limit. He'd been tied there for what felt like hours.

When you said you had a gift for him, he expected a rare herb or a book he'd been looking for. He quite enjoyed when you would sneak little things like that into his office, or next to his bedside so it might be the first thing he laid his eyes on in the morning.

Nothing could've prepared him for a muggle sex toy you called a vibrating cock ring

Now he was a wreck, small twists of hair sticking to his temples, his voice giving out from how long he'd been crying out and begging to cum, but he was so overstimulated that now there was major doubt he could do so at all.

"T-Turn it down." He demanded. The chair scuffed against the floor when he gave aparticularly jarring buck in response to a momentary increase in the vibrations.

"Please. haah.. please-"

His desperate pleas were interrupted by a sweet kiss to his cheek as you walked by, followed by a finger that wiped the humbling dribble from the left corner of his tightly pursed lips. Though the scarf obstructed his view, he knew you had the remote because at the same time you kissed him, the vibrations went from a steady stream with the occasional spike in the motor to a more intense 2-3-2 pattern that had him panting, humping the air from his seat whether he wanted to or not.

"Oh, come off it, Professor. We both know you can do better than that." You said with the sweetest, most honey-laiden voice you could muster.

"You little sh-s-shit." He stuttered, literally shaking, spasming in his spot, the pitiful wonder that he was. But he knew better than to fully test the woman who currently held the power to make him warble like a songbird at the press of a button.

"Ugh.. Let me... cum." He finally spat out. "P-Please. Don't make me beg.."

You giggled like a teenaged girl and popped an m&m in your mouth, acting like this was little more than daily small talk and not the deviant sexual enactment you both knew it to be.

The click of a button, and the nonsensical muttering of a well-respected wizard.

"Could you please try?" You asked.

Should he ever get free, he was going to fuck you SO hard, 'til the only thing coming out of your mouth was 'thank you' and 'yes, Sir', or at least until he could empty himself deep inside your arrogant self as a punishment for making him wait this long.

🖤💚🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇💚🖤

Pt. 2

He fought against the restraints with snowballing jerks, and again you couldn't suppress the aroused grin that overtook you, watching him lose the control he prided himself on.

"You okay, Fruit Bat?" You asked sweetly, moving to sit on his lap with your legs straddling his own in order to keep the chair from moving any further, effectively withdrawing his ability to thrust into the air.

You could feel his legs quiver underneath you, sending shivers up your spine and a familiar heat down to your core.

He did not respond to you. The vibrations were quite intense, and the motor was moving at a rapid pace. It was difficult for him to breathe without emitting an involuntary moan, and your presence on his lap certainly did not alleviate the situation.

"Honey.." As he panted, your forehead pressed against the green and gray scarf wrapped around his eyes. Every movement was hesitant, each breath labored, and his skin glistened with sweat under the dim lighting. "I need to hear it from you."

When your nose brushed against his own, you tilted your head up to place ghosted kisses and light nips on his skin, which only made it that much harder for him. A broken cry, a moan so guttural and ongoing you almost felt bad for him - you almost turned the whole thing off.. but.. then you heard it.

"Please.. Y/n, please let me cum. I-I can't keep-"

Another moan broke through as his cock twitched and flicked about between his legs.

"-aah-.. doing this. Please, I beg you." He opined. "I beg you."

"You do?" You asked with the sweetest, most condescending voice he thought he'd ever heard from your lips. Your tongue went out to touch his ear, to drag its warm wetness across salty skin. "Was that really so hard? Imagine all the time you could've saved instead of sitting here an-"

"Y/n.."

"Alright, alright," you conceded with a chuckle and a few clicks of the remote button, the vibrator's ministrations slowly lowering to the softest setting. He took a deep breath, at last able to calm his breathing, his forehead pressed limply against your own to enjoy the respite he'd been blessed with.

"Better?" You asked him, a kiss to his cheek offered freely when he gave a terse nod.

"Let me." He muttured once again, the words a desperate plea on the tip of his tongue.

".. Okay," I smiled.

He had a point. It'd gone on for long enough, and if you let it go on for too much longer it might ruin the orgasm altogether.

The vibrator was turned up once. He moaned, and bucked into your hips, his throbbing erection rubbing the cradle of your thighs and, in turn, stimulating you as well.

"Awe," you said, a soft moan at the top of your throat, your own hips moving in succession, "how sweet."

"U-Unintentional."

"But sweet nonetheless." You rotated your hips to match the little jerks he gave. Though your goal wasn't to cum at the moment, you weren't exactly going to deny yourself something that felt so good, either.

It gave your cheeks a tint watching him work his way back from overstimulation, that scarf around his eyes captivating in a way you couldn't explain. There was just.. something about him trusting you to restrain him like that, to deprive him of his senses, to take and tempt his doubt then hand it back to him unscathed.

Allowing him release was a given; but offering him the emotionality that accompanied it was a privilege.

A sound you knew all too well alerted you to his incoming orgasm, so you stopped moving to take it in. Your eyes were glued to his lips as they pursed, how his slack jaw suddenly clenched tightly, and you felt the way his muscles tensed underneath you before a satisfied groan left his lips.

He erupted in a haze of panting and heaving shudders, the juddering toy now painted in glorious shades of pearled, translucent white, the vibrations coercing each milky dribble to roll free. You knew all too well to turn it off before it ruined the moment, quickly replacing it with your hand to ease him through such a well-earned climax. Hot cum somewhat aided in lubing your hand. You were grateful to have something smoothing your slowed gestures, and you were sure that was the case for Severus as well, his breathing no longer desperate, his body ever relaxing with each second that passed.

You placed one more kiss on the tip of his nose when your hand finally ceased it's ministrations, allowing his gruntled length to soften as needed.

"Was that too much?" You asked, combing soothing nails through those shadowy locks of his, an attempt to calm both of your nerves after the wild evening you'd both only just gotten through with. His chest heaved two or three more times before he finally answered.

"It was.. intense." He tried to explain, not a single attempt made to get free or reinstate his vision. He had no fight left after such a humbling encounter. Sarcasm wasn't even an option in his mind then. He, too, was trying to understand his thoughts about the experience.

"It's supposed to be." You said. "But did you like it?"

".. I liked the anticipation toward the beginning, and the very end." He answered blatantly. "The begging was less than ideal."

The man was nothing if not honest.

He felt two arms reach around him and thought he might receive a hug or something similar, but then the restraints keeping him tied down were loosened, freeing hands that moved to wrap around your middle and keep you close.

".. Okay."

You had a habit of mentally note-taking his answers every time you explored something new, always worried you might overstep a boundary or maybe even scare him off with an odd request. But then he was pulling you in, tossing that damned scarf to the side so he could see your pretty face, at long last calmed after what felt like hours of your denial.

He would get you back eventually. You had plenty of toys hidden away in your sidetable drawers; your resolve would be tested all the same. But for now, you knew where you both stood. You'd taken a leap together, explored your more taboo intimacy options, and it all turned out alright in the end.

He might've even been willing to try it again, now that he knew what to expect.

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sorryimdyingrn · 12 days

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https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.infinitycow.eplay

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I have few doubts because on one hand it can be a virus. Then on the other hand it might be a bery hardcore porn video.

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sorryimdyingrn · 13 days

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I have never got this emotional because of a written childbirth

A Choice

Summary: Turpin chose you and would always choose you.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Forced marriage, loss of virginity, mention of blood, childbirth.

Author's notes: Hey there, apologies for the delay—I got tangled up in a serious battle with writer's block over this story! Honestly, I'm not sure if the end result is a masterpiece or a hot mess, so your feedback is like gold to me. Big thanks to all you wonderful folks who enjoy my tales! Your comments and messages light up my day like a disco ball! 🎉 Keep 'em coming!

First, Second, Third and Fourth part here.

Turpin sighed irritably as he watched his coachman struggle to fix the broken wheel on the carriage. "Faster, you fool!" he barked, his patience wearing thin with each passing moment of inconvenience. He crossed his arms, casting a disdainful glance around the quaint village they were stranded in.

As he surveyed his surroundings, Turpin's eyes landed on you, carrying a basin of clothes while walking with two other girls. They appeared to be younger, maybe fifteen, while you looked to be around twenty. Turpin couldn't tear his gaze away from you, captivated by your beauty and the sweet smile that graced your lips as you passed by the two girls, who he later discovered were your little sisters.

Turpin's heart quickened at the sight of your smile, his eyes widening with a mixture of fascination and desire. For just a few seconds, your eyes met, and in that fleeting moment, Turpin felt a connection that he couldn't explain. But before he could dwell on it further, you became distracted by your sisters and hastened your pace towards the lake where you intended to wash clothes.

The sway of your hips as you walked away delighted Turpin, leaving him yearning for more. He couldn't shake the image of you from his mind, knowing deep down that you were meant to be his wife, his possession.

Ignoring the coachman's announcement that the carriage was fixed, Turpin dismissed the idea of continuing their journey to Liverpool. Instead, he ordered the coachman to find a hotel in the village, much to the younger man's confusion.

"I thought we were heading to Liverpool, sir," the coachman ventured, his voice hesitant in the face of Turpin's irritation.

Turpin glared at him, his tone icy with authority. "You will do as I say, without question," he snapped, his eyes flashing with barely concealed anger. "Find a hotel immediately."

The coachman, startled by Lord Turpin's sudden change of plans, glanced at him with confusion etched on his face. "But sir," he began tentatively, "I thought we were bound for Liverpool to find a suitable lady for you to marry."

Turpin's eyes narrowed dangerously as he turned to face the coachman, his expression darkening with suppressed rage. "Do not question my orders," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "We are no longer going to Liverpool. Find a hotel in this wretched village, and do it quickly."

The coachman, intimidated by Turpin's demeanor, nodded hastily and spurred the horses forward in search of accommodations. Turpin watched him go, his mind consumed with thoughts of you. He couldn't shake the image of your smile, nor the feeling of connection he had experienced when your eyes met.

Though he couldn't see you anymore, Turpin was determined to find you, no matter the cost. He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening as he made a silent vow to himself. If he had to search every corner of the earth, he would find you and make you his own.

As he stood there, lost in his thoughts, a beggar approached him, asking for alms. Turpin recoiled in disgust, pushing the man away with a look of contempt. He had no time for beggars or anyone else who dared to cross his path.

With a disdainful snort, Turpin adjusted his top hat on his head and strode purposefully in the direction the coachman had gone. He would have you, no matter the obstacles in his way. You were his destiny, his possession, and he would stop at nothing to claim you as his own.

Weeks later, Turpin finally found you in the humble village where you lived with your parents, who were practically bankrupt pig farmers. He wasted no time in introducing himself to your father, making his intentions clear: he wanted to marry you.

Standing tall and imposing in your family's modest home, Turpin refused to sit down, not wanting to soil his fine clothes with the smell of pigs that permeated the air. Your father exchanged a confused look with your mother, unsure of how to respond to this unexpected visitor.

"Do you know my daughter?" your father asked, his tone cautious as he studied Turpin's stern expression.

Turpin's lips curled into a cold smile as he replied, "I do not need to know her to want her. I require a wife to provide me with children, and she will do."

Your father's brows furrowed in disbelief at Turpin's audacity. "You can't just marry off our daughter to a man we don't even know," your mother protested, her voice tinged with concern for your well-being.

But before she could say more, Turpin reached into his coat pocket and produced a heavy bag of coins, throwing it onto the table with a loud thud. Coins spilled out onto the wooden surface, gleaming in the dim light of the room.

"There is plenty more where that came from," Turpin declared, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Consider it an advance payment for your daughter's hand in marriage."

Your father's eyes widened in shock at the sight of the money, his gaze flickering between Turpin and the bag of coins. It was a fortune, more than enough to lift your family out of their financial struggles and secure a comfortable future for you all.

Turpin eyed your parents expectantly, awaiting their response to his brazen offer. Your mother glanced at your father, uncertainty etched on her face as they silently deliberated their choices.

After a moment of tense silence, your father cleared his throat and straightened his posture, addressing Turpin with a mixture of apprehension and resignation. "We... we appreciate your offer, sir," he began, his voice wavering slightly. "It's just... this is all so sudden."

Turpin's expression remained impassive, his eyes cold and calculating as he regarded your father. "I assure you, mister" he interjected, his tone dripping with impatience, "this is a generous proposal. Your daughter will want for nothing as my wife. Think of the opportunities this marriage could provide for her."

Your father hesitated, torn between his desire to secure a better future for you and his concerns about the haste with which Turpin was pushing for the arrangement. He glanced at your mother, silently seeking her guidance in this pivotal moment.

Sensing their hesitation, Turpin reached into his coat pocket once more, producing a document sealed with his personal crest. "This is a marriage contract," he explained, his voice firm and commanding. "It outlines the terms of our union, including a monthly stipend for your family's support. I assure you, it is more than fair."

Your parents exchanged a wary glance, their resolve wavering in the face of Turpin's persuasive arguments and substantial offer. The idea of financial security for their family was tempting, even if it meant sacrificing their daughter's happiness in the process.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of deliberation, your father nodded reluctantly, his voice resigned as he conceded to Turpin's proposal. "Very well, sir," he murmured, his tone defeated. "We... we accept your offer."

A triumphant smile spread across Turpin's lips as he extended his hand to seal the deal with a firm handshake. "Excellent," he declared, his voice oozing with satisfaction. "I assure you, Mr. [Your Last Name], you will not regret this decision."

As the agreement was finalized, your parents breathed a sigh of relief, their worries momentarily alleviated by the promise of financial stability. Turpin wasted no time in preparing for the wedding, eager to make you his bride and secure his hold over your future.

But as Turpin turned to leave your home, pretending not to notice you and your younger brothers peeking in and listening to the conversation, your father approached him, bringing you closer to Turpin with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"May I present my daughter, sir," your father said, his voice tinged with pride and apprehension as he introduced you to your betrothed.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Turpin's cold gaze fell upon you, his eyes assessing you with an unsettling intensity. You glanced up at him in fear, your heart pounding in your chest as you met his calculating gaze for the first time.

Turpin's smile sent a chill down your spine, his expression sinister and predatory as he appraised you with a mixture of desire and possessiveness. "Ah, yes," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "The future Mrs. Turpin. Delighted to make your acquaintance, my dear."

You couldn't bring yourself to respond, the fear gripping your heart rendering you speechless in the presence of this older, unfamiliar man. Turpin's gaze lingered on you, taking in every detail of your mud-stained dress and disheveled appearance.

But as he looked closer, Turpin couldn't help but notice the underlying beauty hidden beneath the grime and weariness of your circumstances. There was strength in your gaze, a resilience that intrigued him despite himself.

"You'll do nicely," Turpin said with a smirk, his tone laced with anticipation. "Yes, very nicely indeed."

You shrank back instinctively, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end as Turpin's words sent a shiver of apprehension coursing through you. His smile widened at your reaction, relishing the power he held over you even before the wedding vows had been spoken.

With a final nod to your parents, Turpin turned and swept out of your home, leaving you and your family to contemplate the fate that awaited you as the future wife of Judge Turpin. As the door closed behind him, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled in the pit of your stomach, knowing that your life was about to change in ways you could never have imagined.

Days later, Turpin sat waiting in the parlor of the bridal shop, his patience wearing thin as the minutes stretched on. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the armrest of the chair, his mind consumed with thoughts of you trying on wedding dresses with the help of your family.

Outside, the sun cast a warm glow over the bustling streets of London, but inside the shop, Turpin felt a chill settle over him. He glanced around the ornately decorated room, the opulent furnishings a stark contrast to the modest village where he had first laid eyes on you.

In the fitting room at the back of the bridal shop, you stood surrounded by your sisters, mother, and the stylist, while they fussed over you, adjusting the intricate lace and satin of the wedding dress. Your mother, brimming with pride, couldn't help but gossip to the stylist about your upcoming marriage to Lord Turpin, emphasizing his importance as a lord and judge.

"He's a man of great stature and wealth," she boasted, her voice filled with excitement. "Our daughter will be the envy of all the village!"

You winced inwardly at her words, feeling a sense of dread knotting in the pit of your stomach. The thought of marrying Lord Turpin filled you with apprehension and discomfort, his cold demeanor and imposing presence sending chills down your spine.

As the stylist continued to pin the dress, you couldn't help but voice your concerns to your family, pleading with them to reconsider the match. But your mother waved off your protests, insisting that marrying Lord Turpin was the best opportunity you could hope for.

"Think of the advantages, dear," she urged, her tone firm and unwavering. "He will provide for you and our family. You'll want for nothing as his wife."

You sighed in resignation, knowing that arguing further would be futile. With a heavy heart, you resigned yourself to your fate, silently praying for a way to escape the marriage that loomed over you like a dark cloud.

As the stylist put the finishing touches on the dress, your mother and sisters admired your reflection in the mirror, showering you with compliments about how beautiful you looked. Despite their well-meaning words, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at your insides.

"Mother, do you think I should show Lord Turpin the dress before the wedding?" you ventured, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Your mother's eyes widened in horror at the suggestion, her hands flying to her chest in dismay. "Heavens no, child!" she exclaimed, her tone filled with alarm. "It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride's dress before the wedding. Lord Turpin might even call off the entire ceremony!"

Her words sparked an idea in your mind, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. Perhaps there was a way to escape the marriage after all, if only you could convince Lord Turpin that it was in his best interest to do so.

A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you formulated a plan. "Perhaps you're right, Mother," you replied with feigned innocence, your voice laced with deception. "It would be best to avoid any unnecessary risks. After all, we wouldn't want to upset Lord Turpin, would we?"

Your mother nodded vigorously in agreement, relieved that you saw reason. "Exactly, my dear," she chimed in, her voice tinged with relief. "It's for the best. We mustn't do anything to jeopardize this opportunity."

Before she could say anything else, you ran out, gathering your skirts and running to the front of the store where Turpin was. Ignoring the calls of your family behind you, you focused solely on the man seated before you, determined to carry out your plan.

Turpin looked up from his chair, his expression dazed as he took in your appearance. His eyes widened in surprise as he registered the sight of you in your wedding dress, a stunned silence falling over the parlor as he rose to his feet, his gaze never leaving you.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at Turpin's reaction, believing that your bold move had succeeded in thwarting the impending marriage.

"Lord Turpin," you said tentatively, breaking the silence between you, "do you... do you like the dress?"

Turpin's gaze lingered on your smile, his eyes tracing the delicate lace and satin of your gown. In that moment, he realized just how beautiful you looked, the white fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places, accentuating your natural grace and elegance.

A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of Turpin's lips as he met your gaze, his eyes alight with a newfound desire. Despite your expectations of his anger and frustration, Turpin's reaction was anything but what you had anticipated.

"Yes, my dear," Turpin replied, his voice low and husky with admiration. "I must admit, you look absolutely stunning."

You blinked in surprise at his response, the weight of his words sinking in as you processed his unexpected compliment. Was it possible that Turpin actually liked the dress? Could it be that your plan had backfired in the most unexpected way?

Turpin turned to the store owner, his tone authoritative as he addressed her. "We'll take this dress," he declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. "It's perfect."

You felt a knot form in the pit of your stomach as Turpin's words washed over you, the realization sinking in that your attempt to thwart the wedding had failed miserably. Despite your best efforts, Turpin was as determined as ever to go through with the marriage, leaving you feeling trapped and powerless once more.

Turpin's gaze lingered on you as the stylist suggested adding a veil to complete your bridal ensemble. He found himself nodding in agreement, his mind filled with visions of you walking down the aisle towards him, veiled in white, a picture of innocence and purity.

And as the stylist and your mother led you back to the dressing room to try on the veil, Turpin remained seated in the parlor, his eyes fixed on the door through which you had disappeared. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the image of you in your wedding dress, feeling a surge of desire coursing through him at the thought of claiming you as his own.

His thoughts wandered to the wedding night that lay ahead, the anticipation building in the pit of his stomach as he imagined what it would be like to possess you fully. The idea of having you beneath him, yielding to his every whim, sent a thrill of excitement coursing through him, igniting a fire of lust that burned hotter with each passing moment.

As he closed his eyes, Turpin allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to have you under him, to taste your sweet innocence and revel in the power he held over you. A wicked smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he entertained the idea of taking you by force, of claiming you as his own in the most primal sense of the word.

But before his fantasies could spiral any further, Turpin was brought back to reality by the sound of footsteps approaching. Opening his eyes, he found Lilian, your sister, standing before him, her expression unreadable as she regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and defiance.

Turpin narrowed his eyes at her, his tone dry and irritated as he questioned her presence. "What do you want, girl?" he snapped, his patience wearing thin in the face of her insolence.

Lilian met his gaze without flinching, her expression unyielding as she regarded him with a cool detachment that only served to fuel Turpin's annoyance. Without uttering a word, she turned on her heel and made her way towards the back of the store, leaving Turpin to seethe in silence.

As he watched her retreating figure, Turpin struggled to contain his anger, his fists clenched in frustration at the insolence of the girl who dared to defy him. In his mind, she was nothing more than a disobedient child in need of a firm reprimand, her parents failing in their duty to discipline her properly.

With a disdainful snort, Turpin composed himself, his thoughts turning to the task at hand. He had no time for petty distractions or insolent girls who dared to challenge his authority. His focus was solely on you, the object of his desires, and nothing would stand in the way of him claiming you as his own.

As he settled back into his chair, Turpin's mind raced with plans for the future, his determination hardened by the thought of possessing you completely. With a steely resolve, he vowed to return to London as soon as possible, eager to begin his new life with you by his side, no matter the cost.

Three days later, the wedding finally took place in the quaint village church, the air filled with a mix of anticipation and solemnity. Despite the small size of the church, the ceremony felt grand and significant, with Turpin's imposing presence casting a shadow over the proceedings.

As the vows were exchanged and rings placed on fingers, Turpin felt a sense of triumph wash over him, knowing that you were now bound to him by law and duty. He swore his allegiance to you before God, his voice firm and unwavering as he pledged to honor and cherish you for the rest of his days.

But as the ceremony drew to a close and the guests gathered for a modest celebration, Turpin couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. Despite his best efforts to ignore it, the palpable sadness in your eyes did not escape his notice, leaving him feeling unsettled and agitated.

Turpin danced with you more out of formality than anything, his movements stiff and mechanical as he held you close, his mind elsewhere as he contemplated the night ahead. He could sense your reluctance, your palpable sadness casting a shadow over the joyous occasion, but he paid it little mind, consumed by his own desires and ambitions.

Excusing himself from the party, Turpin led you to the hotel where he was staying, his anticipation mounting with each passing moment. He looked forward to claiming you as his own, eager to fulfill his lustful desires and assert his dominance over you in the most intimate of ways.

But as the question of your virginity arose, Turpin's anger flared, his features contorting with rage at the revelation that you were not untouched. He demanded to know with whom you had lain before him, pressing you relentlessly until you admitted to a past indiscretion with a baker's son.

Turpin's fury knew no bounds, his sense of betrayal fueling his rage as he realized that you were not the pure and innocent bride he had envisioned. In his eyes, you had deceived him, tarnishing the sanctity of their union with your past indiscretions.

With a growl of anger, Turpin eliminated whatever kindness he had been planning to show you that night, his desire giving way to a primal need for dominance and control. He pushed you onto the bed with force, his hands rough as he lifted your dress and ripped your panties in his haste.

Ignoring your surprised cry, Turpin pulled down his own pants and thrust himself into you with brutal force, not bothering to prepare you for his length as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. The pain of his intrusion was overwhelming, your cries falling on deaf ears as Turpin reveled in the pleasure of claiming you as his own.

But as he lifted his head to gaze at the mirror on the other side of the hotel bedroom, Turpin's eyes met yours in the reflection, his expression twisted with a mixture of lust and cruelty. He watched as you gripped the bed sheets tightly, your tears staining the fabric as you cried out in agony.

"Look at yourself," Turpin snarled, his voice dripping with contempt as he continued to thrust into you with merciless abandon. "This is what you deserve, for deceiving me and defiling our marriage bed."

You whimpered in pain and humiliation, your body wracked with sobs as Turpin's assault continued unabated. With each thrust, he reminded you of your betrayal, his words like daggers plunging into your heart as he asserted his dominance over you with every brutal movement.

But Turpin stopped suddenly, his movements freezing as he felt something warm and wet trickling down his thighs. His eyes widened in shock as he looked down, his gaze falling upon the viscous, red liquid staining his skin and the sheets beneath him. Blood.

"What is this?" Turpin demanded, his voice laced with disbelief as he turned to you, his eyes searching yours for an explanation.

You lay beneath him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed uncontrollably, your body trembling with pain and fear. Turpin's heart clenched at the sight of your distress, his anger momentarily forgotten as he focused on comforting you in your moment of need.

"What happened?" Turpin asked softly, his voice gentle as he brushed the tears from your cheeks, his touch surprisingly tender despite his usual demeanor.

You hiccuped through your tears, struggling to find the words to explain yourself. "I-I lied," you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper as you confessed the truth. "I'm... I'm a virgin."

Turpin's eyes widened in shock at your admission, his mind reeling with the implications of your words. He had taken you at your word, never suspecting that you would deceive him in such a manner. The realization left him feeling betrayed and confused, unsure of how to proceed in the face of this revelation.

"Why would you lie to me?" Turpin asked, his voice tinged with hurt and confusion as he searched your face for answers.

You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze as you struggled to find the words to explain yourself. "I thought... I thought if I lied, you would... you would ask for a divorce," you admitted, your voice breaking with emotion. "I thought you would leave me alone."

Turpin's heart softened at your words, his anger giving way to a deep sense of remorse and guilt. Gently, Turpin withdrew from you, his eyes filled with concern as he inspected the damage he had caused. He watched as you winced in pain, your body trembling with each movement as you struggled to sit up.

"It's going to be okay," Turpin murmured, his voice soothing as he helped you lie back on the bed, his hands gentle as he removed the wedding dress that had become stained with blood. "It's just... your hymen. That's why there's blood."

You continued to cry, the pain and humiliation of the situation weighing heavily on your shoulders. But Turpin remained by your side, offering what comfort he could as he wiped away the tears from your cheeks, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his usual rough demeanor.

"It's not your fault," Turpin assured you, his voice filled with sincerity as he looked into your eyes. "I should have been more careful. I should have been more gentle."

You nodded weakly, grateful for his words of comfort in your moment of need. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that perhaps Turpin wasn't as heartless as he seemed.

As Turpin helped you clean yourself up, his hands lingering on your skin with a tenderness that surprised you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and gratitude towards him. Despite his faults and shortcomings, he had shown you a side of himself that you hadn't expected, a side that made you dare to hope for a better future together.

As Turpin leaned in to kiss you softly on the forehead, you felt a spark of affection ignite within you, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume you. In that moment, you realized that perhaps there was more to your marriage than meets the eye, that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for redemption and forgiveness in the arms of the man who had once seemed so distant and cold.

And as you lay together in the dimly lit hotel room, the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for happiness after all.

Turpin began to undress, shedding his suit and shoes with practiced ease. You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping over you. Despite his assurances of gentleness, the memory of his earlier brutality lingered in the forefront of your mind, leaving you hesitant and apprehensive about what was to come.

"Wait Lord Turpin," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you reached out to stop him, your hands trembling with fear and uncertainty. "Please, be gentle."

Turpin paused, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of understanding and remorse. In that moment, you saw a flicker of humanity in his eyes, a glimpse of the man beneath the mask of cruelty and dominance.

"Call me Richard," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to cup your cheek in his hand. "That's my name. And I promise, I'll be gentle this time."

You hesitated, unsure whether to trust his words or his intentions. But as Turpin – no, Richard – leaned in to kiss you softly on the lips, you felt a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume you.

"Okay, Richard," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you surrendered to his touch, allowing him to guide you with a tenderness that surprised you. "I trust you."

With a gentle touch, Richard positioned himself between your legs, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of desire and restraint. He leaned in to kiss you softly on the lips, his touch tentative yet filled with longing as he explored your mouth with his tongue.

As his hands roamed over your body, you couldn't help but shiver with anticipation, the heat of his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. With each caress, each kiss, Richard drew you closer to him, his desire palpable in the air between you.

But as he positioned himself to enter you, you couldn't suppress the instinctual urge to protect yourself, to close your legs and push him away. With a whimper of fear, you pressed your hands against his chest, your heart pounding in your chest as you pleaded with him to be gentle.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Be gentle with me, Richard. I'm scared."

Richard's expression softened at your words, his gaze filled with compassion and understanding as he brushed the hair back from your face, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I will," he promised, his voice low and husky with desire. "I'll be gentle, I swear."

With a tender kiss, Richard guided himself into you slowly, his movements gentle and deliberate as he eased himself inside. You gasped at the sensation, the feeling of fullness overwhelming yet strangely exhilarating as you surrendered to the pleasure of his touch.

As Richard began to move, his thrusts now slow and steady, you felt yourself relax in his arms, the tension melting away as you gave yourself over to the pleasure of the moment. With each movement, each thrust, Richard brought you closer to the edge of ecstasy, his touch igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing moment.

Turpin watched you writhe beneath him in pleasure. A sense of satisfaction washed over him, replacing the earlier feelings of anger and frustration. Seeing the pleasure on your face was a beautiful sight, one that left him breathless with desire. He had never cared much about pleasuring women, especially prostitutes, but pleasuring you made his ego swell with pride.

The anger he had felt when he thought you had been with another man melted away as he realized that he was your first, your one and only. The thought filled him with a sense of possessiveness and pride, knowing that he was the one who had taken your innocence. And the way you sang his name between moans,

"Richard!" Turpin woke up abruptly from his dream upon hearing the desperate tone of your voice. He took a moment to get his bearings, still groggy from sleep as he realized he was dreaming, or rather remembering old memories. But he could still hear you saying his name, and Turpin turned, looking at you as you looked in fear.

"Are you alright?" Turpin asked, his voice laced with concern as he reached out to touch your arm.

Before you could respond, Turpin felt the damp sheets beneath him. "You're wetting the bed, girl," Turpin chided, his voice tinged with irritation as he glanced at the damp sheets beneath you. But before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him with a desperate cry, your voice trembling with fear as you announced that your water had broken. Turpin froze in disbelief, his mind reeling with the implications of your words. Your water breaking meant only one thing: the baby was coming.

For a moment, Turpin's eyes widened in shock, his mind struggling to comprehend the gravity of the situation. But as the urgency of the moment sank in, he sprang into action, his instincts taking over as he shouted for the servants to bring the doctor and midwife immediately.

"Quickly!" Turpin barked, his voice commanding as he directed the panicked servants to fetch the necessary help. "We haven't a moment to lose. The baby is coming!"

The servants, alarmed by their master's urgent tone, appeared in a flurry of activity, rushing to obey his orders without question. Turpin watched with a sense of satisfaction as they scurried about, knowing that his authority would ensure that everything would be done swiftly and efficiently.

Turning his attention back to you, Turpin moved to your side, his hands gentle as he helped you get more comfortable on the bed. He arranged the pillows and sheets with care, tenderly making you as comfortable as possible as you writhed and moaned in pain.

"You're doing well, my dear," Turpin murmured, his voice filled with encouragement as he watched you with concern. "Just hold on a little longer. Help is on the way."

But as he reached out to touch your hand, you looked at him with frustration, your voice filled with urgency as you pleaded with him to bring the doctor.

"Turpin, stop fussing and fetch the doctor!" you snapped, your tone sharp with irritation as you struggled to cope with the pain. "I need help, and I need it now!"

Turpin was stunned by your outburst, the sharpness of your words cutting through his usual facade of authority and control. He had never heard you speak to him in such a manner before, and for a moment, he was at a loss for words.

But as he looked into your eyes, filled with pain and fear, Turpin's resolve hardened, his determination to help you in your moment of need outweighing any sense of wounded pride. With a nod of understanding, he turned and hurried from the room, determined to fetch the doctor without delay.

As Turpin disappeared from sight, you were left alone with your thoughts, the pain of labor washing over you in waves as you struggled to cope with the intensity of the moment. But despite the fear and uncertainty that filled your mind, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards Turpin for his efforts to help you.

Turpin stood outside the bedroom, his anxiety mounting with each agonizing scream that echoed through the house. The midwife had unceremoniously ordered him out of the room, insisting that he wait outside with the servants. The urge to defy her, to burst back into the room and demand to be by your side, was nearly overwhelming. But Turpin knew he had to obey, no matter how much it grated against his every instinct.

As he paced the hallway, his mind raced with worry for you. He could hear your cries of pain, each one piercing his heart like a knife. Turpin clenched his fists, feeling powerless in the face of your suffering. When one of the servants attempted to offer him words of reassurance, he snapped at them, his frustration boiling over.

"Silence!" Turpin growled, his voice low and menacing. "I have no need for your empty platitudes. Just pray that she survives."

Realizing his lapse in composure, Turpin forced himself to regain control, settling into a chair with a rigid posture. He couldn't afford to show weakness in front of his servants, even as his heart threatened to break with each passing moment.

The screams seemed to go on forever, each one a painful reminder of the fragile line between life and death. Turpin had never considered the possibility of losing you, but now it loomed over him like a specter, haunting his every thought.

Finally, the door creaked open, and the doctor emerged, his expression grave. Turpin stood, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited the news.

"How is she?" Turpin demanded, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desperation.

The doctor hesitated, his gaze shifting uneasily. "The birth... it's complicated," he admitted reluctantly.

Turpin felt his stomach drop, a cold dread settling over him like a shroud. The doctor's words hung in the air, the unspoken question lingering between them. When the doctor suggested that perhaps Turpin had to choose between saving you or the baby, Turpin froze at this impossible decision, his mind racing with conflicting emotions.

The doctor, realizing Turpin's distress, tried to convince him that saving the baby would be the most sensible choice. After all, Turpin needed an heir, and the choice seemed obvious. Turpin knew it too, but he couldn't bear the thought of a life without you in it. Despite the societal pressures and expectations weighing heavily on his shoulders, Turpin's love for you outweighed any practical considerations.

"I choose her," Turpin declared firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Save her at all costs."

The doctor was shocked by Turpin's decision, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. He attempted to persuade Turpin to reconsider, to prioritize the baby's life over yours. But Turpin remained resolute, his gaze unwavering as he stared down the doctor.

"I will do everything in my power to save them both," the doctor assured Turpin, his tone tinged with frustration. "But if it comes to that, I will prioritize her survival."

Turpin nodded, his jaw set in determination. He knew the risks, understood the consequences of his choice, but he refused to waver. As the doctor disappeared back into the room, Turpin refused to stay outside, his concern for you overwhelming any sense of propriety or social decorum.

Inside the room, the midwife and maids were taken aback by Turpin's sudden appearance, the old midwife attempting to shoo him away. But Turpin ignored her, his eyes fixed on you as you writhed in pain, your wrists tied as you strained to push the baby out.

Turpin froze, not knowing what to do. He felt a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through him, his mind torn between the fear of losing you and the guilt of his past transgressions. Unable to face the reality of the situation, he turned away and went to the window, looking out into the darkness of the night.

You noticed the movement and called out for him, your voice strained with pain and desperation. But Turpin couldn't bear to look at you, couldn't bring himself to stay by your side knowing that you could die. He clenched his fists tightly, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon as he struggled to compose himself.

Thankfully, you stopped calling for him, your cries of pain mingling with the instructions from the midwife as you pushed with all your strength. Turpin lost track of time as he stood there, lost in his own thoughts, until he was jolted out of his daze by a new sound—a baby's cry.

Turning, Turpin saw the midwife holding a blood-stained bundle in her arms, a look of relief on her face. She carried the newborn baby to the basin, where she began to wash away the blood, revealing the tiny features of a newborn child. Turpin's heart skipped a beat as he realized the implications of what had just happened.

The maids released your wrists, and Turpin rushed to your side, his hands trembling with emotion as he reached out to touch your sweat-drenched forehead. Relief washed over him as he saw you breathing heavily, the color returning to your cheeks.

"You did it," Turpin whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "You're going to be okay."

As he looked into your eyes, Turpin felt a wave of gratitude and love wash over him, overpowering any lingering doubts or fears. The doctor approached him then, a smile on his face as he congratulated Turpin on the birth of his son.

"You have a healthy baby boy, sir," the doctor announced, his voice filled with warmth. "Congratulations."

Turpin was stunned by the sight of the newborn baby in the midwife's arms, his mind reeling with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion. A baby, a boy—the realization hit him like a thunderbolt, leaving him momentarily speechless. He exchanged a glance with you, his heart swelling with pride and love as he saw the exhaustion and joy written on your face.

Approaching the midwife with determined strides, Turpin reached out to take his son from her arms, eager to hold the precious bundle in his own hands. But his movement was halted by the short, old woman who stubbornly blocked his path, insisting that you, the mother, should hold the baby first.

Turpin's frustration flared once again at the old woman's interference, his impulse to strangle her momentarily overwhelming him. But as he caught sight of you cradling the baby, a soft smile playing on your lips, his anger dissolved into a flood of tenderness and admiration.

You looked weak, yet still so beautiful, your eyes shining with love and exhaustion as you gazed down at the tiny life in your arms. Turpin felt a lump form in his throat as he watched the intimate moment between mother and child, a surge of gratitude washing over him for the miracle of your survival.

Turning to the doctor, who stood nearby with a smile of congratulations, Turpin was brought back to the present moment by the question of his son's name. He glanced back at you, his eyes softening with affection as he silently conveyed his trust in you to make the choice.

"It's up to her," Turpin declared, his voice filled with pride as he nodded towards you. "She shall choose our son's name."

You looked at Turpin in surprise, knowing how firm he had been in his decision regarding the name. But his encouraging smile reassured you, reminding you of the love and trust that had brought you through this ordeal together.

With a smile of determination, you turned your attention back to the baby, your heart overflowing with love as you whispered the name that had been in your heart.

"William Bartholomew Turpin," you announced, your voice filled with conviction as you met Turpin's gaze. "Our son's name shall be William."

Turpin's heart swelled with pride and joy at your choice, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he reached out to touch your hand. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of his growing family, Turpin felt a sense of peace and contentment unlike anything he had ever known.

"Welcome to the world, William," Turpin whispered, his voice filled with emotion as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You are loved more than you could ever know."

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sorryimdyingrn · 14 days

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Snape: I can't let you walk off after a near-death experience!

Eris: I would let you walk off. I would even go as far as finishing you off to make it a full-death experience.

#pro severus snape #snape community #pro snape #snape imagine #severus snape imagine #severus snape x oc #Eris Lennox #original character

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sorryimdyingrn · 14 days

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After finally many piss and tortilla breaks I present to you...

MY ONLY

MY BEAUTIFUL

MY DANTE LEVEL OF SELF INSERT

🎺🎺🎺🎺

ERIS DIANA LENNOX

🎉🎉🎉🎉

The everything OC that's dragging me through my boredom. I decided to honour this arrogant bitch and turned in my Ibis Paint after God knows how long only to do this. God she's so beautiful to me 🥹🥹🥹

And now after so much rubbing my fingers over screen of my phone, I have so many snippets that will finally have some context ❤️❤️❤️

#oc #my girl #my sweet baby #my meow meow #my little stinky shit #i want to hug and kill her so badly ❤️#my pookie #pro severus snape #snape x oc #severus snape x oc #original character #severus snape

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sorryimdyingrn · 14 days

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Being a little too cold: brrrr i’m a little too cold !!!

Being a little too warm: i am going to kill the next person who makes eye contact with me.

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sorryimdyingrn · 14 days

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I'm so honored right now 😩❤️ THANK YEWWWWWWW ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I need to see Snape tied to a bed, edged and overstimulated with a vibrator tied to him ding dong, whining and crying for release ❤️✨

I love it when you and Duffer get all up in my asks 😆☺️ you always know what to say 💚 I gotchu, Little Bat

Under 18 I swear to god if you're anywhere near this account I'm calling your mom and taking her out to dinner, and then you'll be calling ME mom. I'm not even gay and I would do it just to make sure than any complaint you have toward me for this is a complaint you'll be saying to the bitch that banged ur mum. There's cheese sticks and cosmic brownies in the kitchen 🥰 Diane said those are your favorite.

"Mm... god, no-.. fuck, fuck.. ngh-"

Nothing could've prepared him for a muggle sex toy you called a vibrating cock ring.

"T-Turn it down." He demanded. The chair scuffed against the floor when he gave a particularly jarring buck in response to a momentary increase in the vibrations. "Please.. haah.. please-"

"Oh, come off it, Professor. We both know you can do better than that." You said with the sweetest, most honey-laiden voice you could muster.

"Ugh.. Let me... cum." He finally spat out. "P-Please. Don't make me beg..."

You giggled like a teenaged girl as you popped an m&m in your mouth, acting like this was little more than daily small talk and not the deviant sexual enactment you both knew it to be.

The click of a button, and the nonsensical muttering of a well-respected wizard.

"Could you please try?" You asked.

#18+ only #smut #severus snape x reader #pro severus snape #snape

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sorryimdyingrn · 17 days

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Delicious 😋

Jesus y'all this one took a hot minute to get through. Sorry for the wait. Hope it's worth it, Little Bats.

💚🖤🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🖤💚

You'd been planning a little treat for him all week.

Poor Sev had been so stressed lately, what with O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. preparations, his classes finishing up their latest potions (which was always a wreck for those kids. One wrong breath and the whole assignment was ruined), not to mention the plethora of moonlight missions he'd been on lately. Most nights he came home dirtied and exhausted either from an under-par student blowing up their cauldron or splitting up fights between 6th and 7th years.

The taciturn old man surely had to be at his limit, even if it didn't show on the outside. His mastery over reactions was not to be undermined, but to you that only made it more concerning.

First you went to Headmaster Dumbledore's office; if you wanted to take something off Severus's double-agent related plate, so to speak, that was the place to go.

You spent two whole hours negotiating with him. Albus had.. a way with words, for sure, but that made it difficult to get your point across as to just how important giving Snape a break was for everyone's sake. Eventually he did agree, after you promised to get him a nice pair of socks (?? You started to think he would've done it anyway and just wanted the socks), which meant that was one thing taken care of.

The next obstacle was to work out his schedule to make sure he had the whole night free to relax, which wasn't really as difficult as you'd made it out to be in your head. A quick owl to Slughorn took out his Alchemy classes for the evening, and Filch begrudgingly agreed to clean up after the class in exchange for some chocolates and a new collar for Mrs. Norris.

After that, all you had left to do was go to buy anything the two of you might need, and that didn't take more than an hour or so pf shopping in Diagon Alley.

Finally, a week later, and you'd gotten everything straightened out. Severus was in the other room, a bit perplexed by the sudden lapse in his Hogwarts duties (for some reason Albus had Slughorn come in to take over classes for the day??? How odd), but the confused scowl on his face softened tremendously when you came in holding a couple plates of his favored tomato gnocchi.

"What did you do this time?" He immediately asked, a subtle grin breaking through as he found a seat at the small table you kept in the chambers.

"Ha-ha, very funny." You sat the plates down and joined him after grabbing the bottle of Pecornio you'd picked out.

"I won't snap at you for it, whatever it is." He cracked a rare joke. You flipped him off in return, but it was all in good fun.

"I just wanted to.. to spoil you sometimes, I don't know." You shrugged. Your hand reached across the table to hold his own. "You're so hard on yourself sometimes. Take a damn break, would you?"

He took a moment to consider your words, blunt as they were, but when he looked back up the smile was gone.

"My classes.." He pressed, giving your hand a squeeze.

"Yeah. That was me." You laughed a bit, smiling as you took a sip of wine. "I.. do you mind it?" You asked.

"That depends entirely on what you have planned." He answered with a careful tone.

You just smile as sweetly as ever, sipping at the wine while you reach for your fork.

"Just eat your dinner. I'll show you later." You winked and started digging into your own plate.

Now, Severus wasn't one to be told what to do. It wasn't how he operated. There was a little bit of him that lashed out in his head every time someone gave an order - Albus included - he was a grown man with the intellect of at least a dozen average wizards. Whoever made anyone think that he was incapable of being an adult was an outright fool.

Yet there he was, sitting and enjoying his meal with the woman he loved, taking a mental note that she had an aptitude for wine pairing when he took the first sip.

And when they were done and the dishes were hidden away in the sink to be washed the next morning, he found himself leaning over the counter, buzzing with an internal want for information. All he wanted was to know what she had planned for him.

His answer was given as an action rather than words, in nails gently raking up his spine from behind. A shiver followed her finger's upward trail like a shadow, trilling up the nape of his neck to escape his lips in the form of a heavy exhale.

This was not what he'd expected. Not her lips on his shoulder blade, her perfume in his very senses, her hand snaked in front to unbuckle his belt. He glanced back with a quirked brow.

"You asked what I did." You said casually, your nails gently scratching at the back of his neck where he liked it most. "Let me show you, please."

He groaned, and you knew right away you had him. It never really took much, anyway, and now he knew what you were planning. He went to turn around, to lavish you and reciprocate in some way, but your hand tangled in the tresses on his nape to give a light tug and keep him where he was.

You shook your head.

"Mm-mm. Just stay still for me. Hands down." You cooed with a sweet voice, pressing a kiss to his cheek from the side as you rested your chin on the back of his shoulder, watching how his jaw ticked, how his eyes shut and his brows furrowed when you slid your hand down and across his shaft.

He had mixed feelings about this. On one hand, he felt.. emasculated, in a way. Like he was disrespecting himself in some twisted, taboo scenario that went against everything he stood for. He wanted to do the same for you instead of standing there like a fool while ypu drew your fist back and forth over his cock, your thumb brushing over the tip to use his precum as lubrication. Disgustingly wet sounds rose up from where your hand laid siege to his length, and it only made his brows press harder together.

But on the other hand, he was a right mess and you both knew it. He had no choice but to stay standing with your fingers grasping his locks, your hand gliding and pumping at a torturously slow pace. And, jesus fucking christ, it felt good to be handled like that. Like the illusionary lack of control made it that much hotter for him, and you knew he loved it when he tilted his head back to let out a proper, broken mewl.

He was such a good boy when he did things like that for you, knowing how much you loved to hear his moans in any situation.

Your head was tucked into the crook of his neck, your ear flat against it to hear those panty-dropping sounds he tried to suppress, your eyes peeping over his shoulder to stare at his wet cock like it was the most gorgeous thing you'd ever seen in your whole life.

And it was.. Well, the way it leaked juices just for you was.

Both of his hands reached out, one finding your forearm to feel how you jacked his pretty cock off so attentively, his fingertips just barely ghosting your skin so as not to bother the magic you were working in him. The other went to the bed's canopy pillar to support some of his weight in case his knees went out. He was sensitive already from the teasing, and now you were jerking him at a faster pace and he could hardly take it.

The sight of him alone was simply breathtaking. His face was flushed with red, though certainly not as red as the tinted lipstick that smudge down his jawline and made him look so so pretty. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession, a telltale sign that he was getting close.

"You gonna cum?" I breathed in his ear. He nodded back, his hips occasionally jerking forward in a piss poor attempt to get just a little more friction. In return you slowed down a bit, earning a frustrated growl from him as he tried to fuck your fist faster on his own.

Another tug to his hair was enough to grab his attention, and when his hips stopped moving you picked up the pace tremendously. He hissed in ecstacy; you could feel his back muscles going stiff against the your body.

"Not yet." You said softly.

"Like hell-"

Another moderate yank, and then a light squeeze to his shaft. Your sweet voice suddenly held a subtle edge to it.

"Not yet, Severus." You warned him. "It'll be a waste if you don't wait 'til I tell you to."

He struggled to reign himself in. By god, if there were ever a time to make a mess, it was right then.

His pride was on the line - how, he didn't quite know. It. just. was. - but then you were slowing down again, so there was that at least.

"Do you really need to cum, love?" You asked. You opened your mouth to lick his neck up to his ear, placing little nips against the lobe before going back down to nip tender skin.

Your hope was to get him to loosen up a little, to realize he didn't need to be on guard all the time, to acknowledge it was okay to enjoy something unexpected of him because it wasn't up to anybody else.

And by some divine miracle, it worked.

"Haah-...Mm.. M-hm.." Severus whimpered where he stood.

"Could you use your words for me, handsome?" You kissed his neck.

Another groan.

"... I'm gonna cum." He finally admitted.

"Is that so?" You kept your voice calm, but in truth your heart was racing and you were sure he could feel it beating against your ribcage with how close you'd pressed yourself to his back. There was no way you'd be able to keep your cool now. Not with what he was letting you do to him right now. Not with how your juices leaked through your panties and soaked your stockings, threatening to spill down your thigh as if to seek him out itself.

"Y-.. augh, shit.... shit.. cumming, cumming, I'm cumming-"

You watched him with absolute wonder as he fell apart in your arms, a vice grip on both your arm and the bed frame as he shot load after load on the poor carpet. You kissed his torso all the way through it, letting go of his hair to rub circles down his spine while he emptied himself of hot ropes of cum, one of which caught in your hand as you pumped him.

"God.. that was a lot," you noted aloud as you pulled your hand up to taste him. It was salty, bearing a slimy texture you'd grown accustomed to over the years, and then you were standing on your tiptoes to angle his head and dive in for a kiss that let him do just the same. Your lips moved in sloppy unison, a mixture of his semen and both of your saliva an unexpected twist that neither of you could deny was just hot.

When you pulled back and finally let him turn around, you each were blessed with a good view of the other. That was when he noticed the sleek shine that rolled down the fabric between your thighs. Though you didn't cum, it was obvious you enjoyed it just as much as he did. And when he looked back to you, your eues meeting for the first time during this whole engagement, he found himself wanting more.

You found this out upon glancing down at his messy, dripping length, somehow already hardening once again. You smiled, a genuine one that time, and looked up to meet his gaze. He returned it just as quickly.

"Good boy."

#severus snape #pro severus snape #snape smut

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