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#alan rickman
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Look, I know Darcy is going to win, and that most of the people voting have too much of an attachment to the BBC Pride and Prejudice to even consider debating that Ang Lee's and Emma Thompson's Sense and Sensibility is the best Austen adaptation out there. But Brandon is still the best Jane Austen Man and the last one standing from that film, so I have to submit a final slew of propaganda on his behalf:
He yearns
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He respects your little sister
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He's agile (no he did not complain of a rheumatism, it was a slight ache)
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He's earnest one minute
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But will throw shade at a rake the next
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He doesn't half ass several things, he whole asses one thing, which is to be there when it counts...
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...and will ask what's needed and does it without hesitation, even if it means picking your mom up from her house when it takes a whole day just to get there
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He shares your interests, and will buy you a whole piano just to make you happy
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He's literally a male Cinderella story, come on
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Bonus content: The acting chops to be this charming while the horse you literally rode in on spends every take farting up a loud, stinky storm
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Colonel Brandon (1995) Vs Mr Darcy (1995)
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smilingformoney · 3 days
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every lionel moment ever (55/73)
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muiitoloko · 19 hours
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Trust
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Summary: You need to learn to trust Lionel because distrust is destroying you both.
Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar × Fem! Reader
Warnings: Smut, anger, Insecurity, jealousy, accusation, arguing and mention of cheating.
Author's Note: This story has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and I debated whether or not to share it. Truth be told, I'm not entirely satisfied with it, but I've decided to post it anyway. I'm eager to hear your feedback, so please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments. My aim was to depict a realistic relationship with genuine challenges in this narrative.
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As Lionel sits down on the bed, his baritone voice carries a tone of frustration and exhaustion. "For the thousandth time, I wasn't flirting with anyone at the party," he insists, his words tinged with exasperation. "I was simply being polite, as any host would be."
You stand your ground, your voice rising in defiance. "Polite? It didn't look like mere politeness to me," you retort, your words laced with accusation. "You were leaning in too close, laughing too freely. I saw the way she looked at you, Lionel."
His hooked nose seems to accentuate his furrowed brow as he responds, "You're reading too much into it. You know how I am in social situations—I talk to everyone." But his attempt to placate you only seems to stoke the flames of your distrust.
"Why should I believe you?" you fire back, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. "You had a reputation before we were married, Lionel. You were a womanizer."
Lionel's expression darkens, a shadow crossing his features. "That's in the past," he insists, his voice tinged with frustration. "I've changed, for you."
But your insecurities refuse to be assuaged. "Have you, though?" you challenge, your voice heavy with doubt. "Or are you just hiding it better?"
Lionel's patience wears thin, his frustration boiling over. "Why are you like this?" he demands, his voice rising to match yours. "Why do you distrust me so much? I've given you no reason to!"
He abruptly rises from the bed, his movements brisk and determined. Ignoring your bewildered expression, he strides to the wardrobe with purpose, his hands swiftly grabbing a backpack from within. You watch, a mix of confusion and disbelief coloring your features, as he begins to hastily stuff clothes into the bag.
"What the hell are you doing, Lionel?" you demand, your voice wavering with a mix of anger and concern as you step closer, trying to comprehend his sudden actions.
Lionel's shoulders tense, his jaw clenching as he refuses to meet your gaze. "I'm leaving," he states firmly, his voice laced with frustration.
"You're leaving?" you seethe, your voice shaking with anger. "Fine! Leave! I don't need you here anyway!"
Lionel continues packing his clothes, his movements brisk and determined. "I can't take this anymore," he mutters, his voice strained. "I won't stay in a marriage filled with constant fighting and no intimacy."
Your blood boils at his words, and you hurl your wedding ring at him, the metal clinking against the wardrobe. "Take it! Take your damn ring!" you scream, tears of frustration and hurt welling in your eyes.
But Lionel pays no attention to the ring, his focus solely on packing his belongings. "I'm done," he declares, zipping up his backpack with finality.
As he turns to leave, you lash out in a fit of anger, your words dripping with venom. "Go! Find someone else to satisfy your desires!" you spit, your voice laced with disdain. "I'll find the first idiot willing to fulfill my needs too!"
Lionel freezes in his tracks, his eyes flashing with jealousy and hurt. "What did you just say?" he growls, his tone sharp with accusation.
You smirk, the nightgown clinging to your curves as you sit on the bed. "Oh, is someone feeling jealous now?" you taunt, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, too little, too late, Lionel."
He clenches his jaw, his gaze burning with intensity. "How dare you even suggest such a thing?" he seethes, his fists balling at his sides.
You meet his gaze head-on, a defiant glint in your eyes. "Maybe if you showed me a fraction of the attention you give to your precious art collection, we wouldn't be in this mess," you retort, your voice cutting like a knife.
"You Know, that's what you would've gotten tonight if you hadn't been so naughty, flirting with other women," you purr, your voice laced with a mixture of seduction and reprimand.
Lionel's nostrils flare angrily as he interrupts you mid-sentence. "Wants to know? I don't care what you do or don't do anymore," he retorts, his voice dripping with frustration and resignation. "I'm tired of this endless cycle of distrust and..." Before he can finish his sentence, you lean back slightly, spreading your legs to reveal your core, devoid of panties. It's a deliberate move, a calculated play to regain control of the situation.
Lionel's gaze settles on your exposed flesh, his eyes widening in desire and disbelief. The backpack falls to the floor with a thud, forgotten in his distraction, his movements almost mechanical as he falls to his knees, crawling towards her like a man possessed, his baritone voice reduced to a desperate whisper.
"Please... let me taste you," he begs, his voice thick with longing. "I need to feel you, to make things right."
But you're not so easily swayed. As he inches closer, you extend a foot, pressing it firmly against his shoulder to hold him back. Lionel's desperation intensifies, his eyes pleading with you as he begs for release.
"I swear, I haven't flirted with anyone," he murmurs, his baritone voice carrying a sincerity that resonates within you. "You're the only one I want, the only one I've ever wanted."
Your resolve wavers at the sincerity in his gaze, but you push back, still hurt and distrustful. "Prove it then," you demand, your voice tinged with a mix of longing and defiance. "Apologize for your behavior at the party. Recognize your mistake, Lionel."
But instead of acquiescing, Lionel's frustration flares anew, his pride refusing to bend to what he perceives as an unjust accusation. "I won't apologize for something I didn't do," he asserts, his voice laced with indignation.
In a sudden burst of determination, he grabs your ankle, the touch sending a shiver down your spine as he pulls you closer. Before you can react, he secures your other leg, keeping you open and vulnerable to his advances.
You try to protest, to resist his advances, but Lionel's grip is firm, his lips trailing kisses down your thighs, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume your senses. Your moans escape your lips involuntarily, each touch of his lips against your skin driving you to the brink of madness.
Your breath catches in your throat as Lionel's hooked nose brushes against your sensitive flesh, his warm breath sending a rush of anticipation coursing through your veins. With each passing moment, the tension between you builds, igniting a primal need that threatens to consume you both.
"Stop... we can't," you manage to gasp between ragged breaths, your attempts to close your legs proving futile against Lionel's determined hold. But even as you protest, your hands find their way into his hair, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
As Lionel's lips trail a path of fiery kisses up your inner thighs, his baritone voice resonates with a husky tone of desire, sending shivers down your spine. "You taste even sweeter than I remembered," he murmurs, his words laced with raw hunger.
As he explores every curve and contour of your body, Lionel's hands roam freely, igniting flames of desire wherever they touch. His touch is both tender and demanding, a potent combination that leaves you gasping for breath and begging for more.
With a hunger that matches yours, Lionel's lips capture your lower lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deeper to taste every inch of your essence. His fingers weave into his hair, pulling him closer as you surrender to the intoxicating ecstasy of his touch.
As you recline further on the bed, surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure that Lionel's skilled tongue evokes, a pang of jealousy and insecurity grips your heart. Despite the ecstasy coursing through your veins, the image of your husband, Lionel, bestowing the same intimate attention on other women floods your mind, igniting a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.
A moan escapes your lips, but it's tainted with a hint of bitterness as you imagine Lionel's hooked nose brushing against another woman's delicate skin, his baritone voice murmuring words of desire that aren't meant for you alone. The thought sends a surge of possessiveness coursing through you, driving you to cling to him tighter, as if to assert your dominance over any potential rivals.
Summoning every ounce of strength within you, you push against Lionel's shoulders, trying to put some distance between you. "Stop, Lionel," you gasp, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and fear. "I can't do this anymore."
But even as Lionel's skilled ministrations push you to the brink of ecstasy, the insecurity gnaws at the corners of your mind, whispering doubts that refuse to be silenced. You wonder how many women have experienced this same intoxicating pleasure at his hands, how many have moaned his name in ecstasy, oblivious to the existence of a jealous wife waiting at home.
Lionel freezes, confusion flickering in his eyes as he looks at you, his chin stained with your essence. With a gentle touch, he wipes the remnants of your passion from his skin, his gaze searching yours for answers.
"What's wrong, my love?" he questions, his voice tinged with concern. "Am I not pleasing you?"
You avert your gaze, feeling a wave of sadness wash over you as you struggle to articulate the turmoil raging within. "It's not that, Lionel," you murmur, your voice heavy with regret. "I just... I can't keep living like this."
Lionel's brows furrow in confusion, his concern deepening as he reaches out to caress your cheek, his touch tender and reassuring. "Tell me, my dear," he implores, his voice soft with compassion. "What's troubling you?"
Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you meet Lionel's gaze, the weight of your insecurities bearing down on you like a crushing weight. "I can't shake the feeling that you're out there, flirting with other women," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid of losing you."
Lionel's expression softens, his heart aching at the pain reflected in your eyes. "My love, you must believe me," he pleads, his voice tinged with frustration and desperation. "I would never betray you. You're the only one I desire, the only one I've ever desired."
But before Lionel can offer further reassurance, you interrupt him, your words laced with resignation. "Maybe we should just get a divorce," you suggest, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "It's clear that I can't trust you, Lionel."
The mere suggestion sends a shockwave of disbelief coursing through Lionel, his features contorted with anger and defiance. "No!" he protests vehemently, his voice thundering through the room. "I won't accept it."
Your own anger flares in response, fueled by Lionel's refusal to acknowledge your pain. "And why not?" you demand, your voice rising to match his. "Weren't you about to leave just a few minutes ago?"
Lionel's jaw clenches, his frustration evident as he struggles to contain his emotions. "I was bluffing," he admits begrudgingly, his tone laced with resignation. "But it's obvious, isn't it? I would never leave you. I love you too much for that."
But despite his declaration of love, doubt still lingers in your heart, threatening to tear you apart. "I just want to trust you, Lionel," you whisper, your voice breaking as tears stream down your cheeks. "I want to believe that you're not like my ex-boyfriend."
Lionel growls, his baritone voice laced with disdain as he cuts you off mid-sentence. "Don't you dare even mention that damn idiot ex-boyfriend of yours," he asserts, his hooked nose accentuating his scowl. "I am nothing like him, and I won't stand for being compared to such a fool."
His words carry a weight of frustration and indignation, his pride wounded by the mere suggestion of resemblance to someone so beneath him in stature. With a determined stride, Lionel approaches you, his gaze piercing as he seeks to dispel any lingering doubts.
"I am not like him," he repeats, his voice firm and unwavering. "I am Lord Lionel Shahbandar, a man of wealth, sophistication, and impeccable taste. I would never stoop to the level of a petty, insecure fool like your ex-boyfriend."
His words ring with conviction, his confidence unwavering as he stands before you, a beacon of strength and reassurance in the midst of uncertainty. With a gentle touch, he lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, his eyes ablaze with intensity.
"You are mine, and I am yours," he declares, his voice softening with sincerity. "Please trust me."
"Lionel," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the tumult of emotions raging within you. "I want to trust you, I really do."
His gaze softens, a glimmer of hope igniting in his eyes as he listens intently to your words. "Then tell me, my love," he implores, his voice tender and reassuring. "What can I do to earn your trust? I'll do anything, I swear."
You take a moment to collect your thoughts, the weight of your doubts and insecurities pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. "I need... I need you to be patient with me," you murmur, your voice trembling with vulnerability. "I need you to understand that this mistrust is tearing me apart."
Lionel's expression softens further, his heart aching at the pain reflected in your eyes. "I understand, my dear," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I promise to be patient, to show you again and again that you're the only one I desire."
Tears blur your vision as you reach out, clasping his hands tightly in yours. "I'm sorry, Lionel," you whisper, your voice choked with emotion. "I'll try... I'll try to trust you again."
A tender smile graces Lionel's lips as he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your hands. "That's all I ask," he murmurs, his voice filled with gratitude and relief. "I love you, more than anything in this world."
As Lionel's lips brush against your skin, you feel a sense of peace wash over you, a glimmer of hope flickering in the darkness of your doubts. With each passing moment, the weight of your insecurities begins to lift, replaced by the warmth of Lionel's unwavering love and devotion.
But as you bask in the glow of reconciliation, a sudden realization strikes you like a bolt of lightning. Your gaze falls to your hand, where the absence of a ring serves as a stark reminder of the rift that nearly tore you apart.
Lionel's eyes follow yours, his expression turning somber as he notices the discarded wedding ring lying forgotten on the floor. Without a word, he stoops down, retrieving the ring with careful reverence, his movements deliberate and purposeful.
You watch in silence as Lionel kneels before you, his gaze unwavering as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your finger. With steady hands, he slides the wedding ring back onto your finger, where it belongs, a symbol of the love and commitment that binds you together.
As the metal glints in the soft light of the room, you feel a surge of emotion welling within you, overwhelming in its intensity. Tears stream down your cheeks as you gaze into Lionel's eyes, the depth of his love reflected in their depths.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for doubting you, for letting my insecurities drive us apart."
Lionel's eyes soften, his fingers tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand. "There's no need to apologize, my dear," he murmurs, his voice filled with tenderness. "We all have our moments of weakness. What matters is that we're together, that we're stronger than ever."
With a gentle touch, he lifts your chin, his lips capturing yours in a lingering kiss filled with promise and devotion. In that moment, you know that no matter what challenges may lie ahead, you'll face them together, bound by a love that's as enduring as it is unbreakable.
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zacksnydered · 2 days
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Sense and Sensibility 1995 ‧ Dir. Ang Lee
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The new Snape smut is currently sat waiting patiently in my drafts to be posted tomorrow night 🤫 last call to be asked to be tagged! 😁🫶
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lumina-snape · 3 days
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Alan❤️
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cerise-grenadine · 3 days
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presently binging Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility (both 1995) for depress scientific reasons (and because of hotjaneaustenmen's poll) and to my horror i finished P&P thinking "ho i think after all this time i might actually fancy Darcy more than Brandon" bc i had just spent 6 hours swooning over this hot dark broody boy but then i put the film on and Alan Rickman made his appearance and no, no, i'm still firmly in love with Brandon 😌🙏🏻
also i realised i'm canonically older than him now ☠️
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mjschryver · 5 months
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eternalremorse · 6 months
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Now they are together 😭💔
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Brandon propaganda - whose wedding would you want to attend? the one with a hot groom looking dashing in regimentals with the haters stuck on a hill and the groom tossing out gold or a double wedding with no regimentals, a lot of haters inside the church and no chance to grab some cash
Colonel Brandon (1995) Vs Mr Darcy (1995)
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jaeausten · 5 months
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A good match, for he is rich and she is handsome.
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not-so-rosyyy · 6 months
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Dumbledore now reuniting with Snape and Hagrid on the other side. OH....MY CHEST...
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smilingformoney · 2 days
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every friedman moment ever (73/74)
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muiitoloko · 3 days
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Your sentence
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Summary: Turpin and his wife deal with their pregnancy, and have some quality time together, before he pronounces her sentence.
Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader
Warnings: Pregnancy, pregnant sex, smut, nausea and self-criticism.
Author's Notes: Greetings, esteemed audience! Welcome back to the latest escapades of Turpin and his bun-in-the-oven wife. Believe it or not, I actually managed to pen this chapter in the ungodly hours of dawn, and wait for it... I even gave it a makeover! *Busts out into an impromptu victory dance* Now, here's the million-dollar question: Is Turpin still recognizable, or have I accidentally turned him into a unicorn-loving, tea-sipping ninja? Your feedback is as precious as gold, so spill the beans.
First, Second and Third part here.
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As you sat in the bathtub, the warm water soothing your tired muscles, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relaxation wash over you. The maid's gentle ministrations as she rubbed your back only added to the blissful sensation, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully indulge in the moment.
However, your peaceful reverie was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening, and you tensed as you heard Turpin's stoic voice. You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there, his expression impassive as he observed the scene before him.
"Taking quite a long time with your bath, aren't you?" he remarked, his tone cool and detached.
You felt a pang of guilt at his words, knowing that you had been indulging in the luxury of the bath for longer than usual. "I-I'm sorry, Richard," you stammered, quickly attempting to apologize. "I'll be finished soon, I promise."
But Turpin ignored your apology, waving the maid to leave. The maid quickly excused herself and left the room, leaving you alone with your husband. His intense gaze bore into you, and you felt yourself becoming nervous under his scrutiny. Instinctively, you wanted to hide from him, but you knew that Turpin didn't like it when you hid.
As he walked closer, you couldn't help but notice the slight limp in his step, a reminder of the pain he was still experiencing from the previous night. You bit your lip, feeling a surge of guilt at the sight of his discomfort.
"What are you doing?" you asked, unable to stop yourself from voicing your curiosity as Turpin began to undress.
Turpin sighed lightly, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "Taking a shower," he replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It'll be quicker if we both shower together."
You blinked in surprise at his suggestion, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. "Oh," you mumbled, feeling foolish for not realizing his intentions sooner.
Turpin chuckled softly at your reaction, though there was a warmth in his eyes that you hadn't seen before. "You always did have a knack for asking obvious questions," he teased gently, his voice lacking its usual edge of cruelty.
You nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of relief at Turpin's lighter demeanor. As he finished undressing, revealing his half-hard cock, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness at the prospect of showering together.
Turpin noticed your hesitation and stepped closer, his gaze softening as he reached out to cup your cheek tenderly. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle and caring. "I know things have been difficult between us, but I want you to know that I'm trying. I really am."
Touched by his sincerity, you leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of warmth spreading through your chest. "I know, Richard," you replied softly, meeting his gaze with an earnest expression. "And I appreciate it more than you know."
With a small smile, Turpin settled into the bathtub across from you and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that the tub was spacious enough for both of you. The warm water enveloped you both, soothing away the tensions of the day and allowing you to relax in each other's company.
"Is your hip still bothering you?" you asked softly, your voice filled with genuine concern as you reached out to gently touch Turpin's thigh.
Turpin nodded slightly, his expression thoughtful. "A little," he admitted reluctantly. "But it's much better after the healing ointment. Thank you for that."
You smiled warmly at his gratitude, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having been able to provide him with some measure of relief. As Turpin leaned back in the bathtub, he motioned for you to come closer, his gaze softening as he met your eyes.
"Come here," he murmured, his voice gentle and inviting. "I want you to bathe me."
Your heart fluttered at his request, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins. Swallowing back your apprehension, you obeyed, getting on your knees in the bathtub and inching closer to Turpin until you were within arm's reach.
As you reached out to cup water in your hands and pour it over Turpin's chest, you couldn't help but notice the gray strands mingling with the black hair that covered his chest. Despite his imposing demeanor, there was a vulnerability in the way he allowed you to care for him, a vulnerability that touched something deep within you.
Turpin watched you intently as you bathed him, his gaze lingering on your breasts, which seemed fuller today than they had yesterday. A flicker of desire flashed in his eyes, and you felt a flush of heat spreading across your cheeks at the realization that he was observing you so closely.
With steady hands, you continued to bathe Turpin, washing away the day's grime and tension as you worked. His skin was warm and smooth beneath your touch, a stark contrast to the rough exterior he often presented to the world.
As you reached up to wash his face, Turpin leaned into your touch, his eyes closing in contentment. You couldn't help but marvel at the intimacy of the moment, the simple act of caring for each other forging a connection between you that felt stronger than any words could convey.
However, your peaceful moment was shattered when you suddenly felt something warm trickling down your chest. Startled, you looked down, your eyes widening in disbelief as you realized that you were leaking breast milk again. Gasping at the unexpected sensation, you quickly withdrew your hands from Turpin's body, feeling a surge of embarrassment washing over you.
Turpin, noticing your sudden movement, opened his eyes to look at you, his expression shifting from relaxation to curiosity. His gaze fell upon your leaking breasts, and a flicker of surprise crossed his features before a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was almost as if he found the sight of you leaking milk to be divine, stirring something primal within him.
As you attempted to excuse yourself from the bathtub, flustered and embarrassed by the situation, Turpin reached out to stop you, his voice low and commanding. "No," he insisted, his tone firm. "Stay."
You hesitated, unsure of what to do, but Turpin's unwavering gaze held you in place. With a reluctant sigh, you acquiesced, settling back into the warm water as Turpin's eyes lingered on your leaking breasts.
Feeling self-conscious under his intense scrutiny, you tried to divert his attention away from your embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, Richard," you stammered, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I don't know why this keeps happening."
Turpin's expression softened as he reached out to gently caress your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his usual demeanor. "There's nothing to apologize for," he reassured you, his voice soothing. "It's a natural part of pregnancy and childbirth. Besides, I find it... intriguing."
You blinked in surprise at his admission, unsure of how to respond to his unexpected reaction. Turpin, noticing your uncertainty, leaned in closer, his gaze darkening with desire as he reached out to cup your leaking breast in his hand.
The sensation of his touch sent a shiver of arousal coursing through you, and you couldn't help but gasp at the intimate contact. Turpin's eyes gleamed with hunger as he watched the milk dribble from your nipple, his own arousal evident as his gaze flickered down to the growing bulge between his legs.
Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Turpin leaned forward, his lips capturing your leaking nipple in a hungry kiss. You gasped at the sudden contact, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body as Turpin began to suckle greedily at your breast.
His rough, yet surprisingly skilled ministrations left you breathless, your hands instinctively tangling in his hair as you arched your back, offering yourself up to him completely. Turpin groaned around your nipple, his own arousal evident as his cock throbbed against your thigh, desperate for release.
As Turpin continued to suckle at your breast, his movements growing more urgent and desperate with each passing moment, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. The combination of his touch and the warmth of the water surrounding you sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, threatening to consume you entirely.
With a primal growl, Turpin released your nipple from his mouth, his eyes dark with desire as he met your gaze. "I need you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with raw need. "Now."
You nodded eagerly, your own desire burning hot and fierce within you as you reached out to guide Turpin's throbbing cock towards your aching core. With a shared gasp of pleasure, he entered you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely as he claimed you as his own.
The sensation of being joined with him in such an intimate way was overwhelming, and you cried out in ecstasy as he began to move within you, his movements strong and sure as he drove you both towards the edge of oblivion.
Lost in the throes of ecstasy, you began to move with him, your hips rising and falling in rhythm with his thrusts. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, driving you closer and closer to the edge of blissful release.
Turpin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as he continued to suckle at your breast, his other hand trailing teasingly down your spine. You gasped at the intimate contact, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you that burned hotter and brighter with each passing moment.
You continued bouncing on your husband's cock, enjoying the wave of pleasure building inside you, as Turpin released your nipple and buried his nose between your breasts, inhaling deeply as if he was trying to imprint your scent into his memory. The sensation sent shivers of pleasure throughout your body, and you couldn't help but whimper in response, desperate for more of his touch.
Turpin held your hips tightly, his movements growing slower and more deliberate as he fought to prolong the exquisite torture of your shared pleasure. He knew he couldn't last much longer at his age, and he was determined to savor every moment of your intimacy together.
You whimpered in frustration, craving the release that seemed just out of reach. But Turpin held you firmly in place, his grip unyielding as he slowed his movements to a tantalizing pace. The ache between your legs grew more intense with each passing second, driving you to the brink of madness as you begged for mercy.
As you felt the familiar coil of pleasure building within you, you couldn't help but plead with Turpin, desperate for him not to deny you your orgasm once again. "Please, Richard," you whimpered, your voice thick with need. "Don't stop. I need to cum. Please."
Turpin's expression softened slightly at your plea, his baritone voice low and husky as he complied with your request. Without a word, he pressed his thumb against your swollen clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles as he continued to thrust into you.
The sensation was electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. With each stroke of Turpin's thumb, you felt the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, driving you closer and closer to the brink of release.
And then, finally, it happened. With a shuddering gasp, you felt the wave of orgasm wash over you, your entire body convulsing with pleasure as you clung to Turpin desperately. He watched you intently, his gaze filled with satisfaction as he held you close, reveling in the sight of your surrender.
As you collapsed against him, panting and exhausted from the intensity of your climax, Turpin waited patiently for you to catch your breath. With a gentle hand, he encouraged you to climb out of him, and you did so reluctantly, watching him curiously as he stood up from the tub, you standing up as well, confused.
But before you could react, Turpin grabbed your shoulder and pushed you down, forcing you to your knees. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked up at him, a mixture of apprehension and arousal coursing through you. Turpin instructed you to keep your breasts together, his voice low and commanding as he expressed his desire to cum on them.
You obeyed without hesitation, though a part of you found the request to be somewhat dirty. But Turpin seemed to revel in the idea, his eyes dark with desire as he grabbed his penis with his fist and began to touch himself.
The sight of your pregnant wife on her knees in front of him, holding her beautiful breasts together for him, was enough to send Turpin over the edge. With a primal growl, he released himself, his hot seed spurting out in thick, white ribbons as it landed on your waiting chest.
You gasped at the sensation, feeling the warm liquid coating your skin as Turpin continued to stroke himself, milking every last drop of pleasure from his release. He watched you intently, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he took in the sight of you covered in his cum.
As the last of his orgasm faded, Turpin finally released his grip on his cock, letting it fall limp against his thigh. With a satisfied sigh, he reached out to help you out of the tub, his touch surprisingly gentle as he guided you to your feet.
Despite the lingering sense of dirtiness that lingered in the air, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having pleased Turpin. And as you stood there, chest heaving and skin glistening with his cum, you couldn't help but wonder what other pleasures lay in store for you both.
Days later, the atmosphere between you and Turpin remained charged with tension, yet there was a subtle shift in his demeanor towards you. While he still maintained his authoritarian and cruel facade, there were moments of unexpected kindness and gentleness that he reserved exclusively for you.
Today was one of those rare days when Turpin seemed determined to be good to you, despite his usual impatience and short temper. You were feeling particularly unwell due to the pregnancy, the mere smell of food making you nauseous, and your emotions were on edge, causing you to cry at the slightest provocation.
And Turpin had been surprisingly patient with your mood swings, but as the day wore on, even his patience began to wear thin. The sound of your constant crying grated on his nerves, testing the limits of his resolve to be kind to you.
That night, as you sat in the opulent dining room of your mansion, eating the food with little appetite, Turpin's patience was finally reaching its limit. He listened impatiently as you sobbed uncontrollably, your tears flowing freely as you lamented feeling fat and unattractive.
Despite his efforts to remain calm, Turpin couldn't help but feel frustrated by your outburst. He had tried his best to be understanding and supportive, but your constant emotional turmoil was starting to fray the last of his patience. But Turpin controlled himself not to say anything, his jaw clenched as he continued eating. His patience had worn thin, worn threadbare by the relentless stream of tears and self-deprecating remarks that seemed to flow endlessly from you. Every sob felt like a dagger to his already frayed nerves, but he held his tongue, unwilling to lash out in anger.
But later, when the two of you retreated to the privacy of your bedroom, your tears continued to flow unabated. You sat on the edge of the bed, your shoulders shaking with each sob as you lamented feeling fat and unattractive. The weight of your pregnancy seemed to hang heavily on you, and Turpin could see the toll it was taking on your self-esteem.
Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Turpin rose from his seat on the bed, his expression dark and brooding. He crossed the room with purposeful strides, his baritone voice low and menacing as he approached you.
With a firm hand, Turpin pulled you out of bed and forced you to look in the mirror, your head throbbing from the strength of his grip on your hair. As you whimpered in pain, your eyes met his in the reflection, searching for some semblance of mercy in his dark, brooding gaze.
"You are mine," Turpin growled, his voice a low rumble of suppressed anger. "And no one insults something that is mine. Do you fucking understand? I'm tired of hearing your damn cries!"
You nodded meekly, unable to muster the courage to speak as Turpin's harsh words echoed in your ears. His cruelty was a reminder of the power he held over you, a power that both terrified and fascinated you in equal measure.
But then, to your surprise, Turpin's demeanor softened slightly as he released his grip on your hair, his hand moving to cup your chin. Through the mirror, you met his gaze, confusion and apprehension swirling in your eyes.
Instead of berating you further, Turpin spoke with unexpected tenderness. "Look at yourself," he instructed, his voice gentle yet firm. "You're not fat. You're pregnant, carrying my child. You should be proud, not criticizing yourself."
You swallowed back the lump in your throat, your eyes misting with unshed tears at his unexpected kindness. Turpin's words struck a chord deep within you, reminding you of the precious life growing inside you and the love you shared with him, despite the complexities of your relationship.
Turpin's hand lingered on your chin, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek as he continued to speak. "You look beautiful pregnant," he murmured, his voice tinged with genuine admiration. "You don't know how much it turns me on. You drive me crazy, damn woman."
A blush spread across your cheeks at his words, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal flooding through you. Turpin's desire for you was both thrilling and intimidating, awakening a hunger within you that you didn't fully understand.
Before you could stop yourself, you hesitated, biting your lip nervously before voicing a hesitant request. "Richard," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Could... could you... fuck me in front of this mirror?"
Turpin's eyes darkened with desire at your request, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You want to see yourself, don't you?" he murmured, his voice low and husky with anticipation. "Well, who am I to refuse such a request?"
With that, Turpin moved away from you and began to undress, his movements slow and deliberate as he watched you through the mirror. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, the sight of his muscular frame and thick, gray-streaked chest hair sending a shiver of excitement down your spine.
Emboldened by his response, you obeyed his unspoken command and began to undress as well, your hands trembling slightly as you shed your clothes. Turpin watched you intently, his gaze filled with hunger as he waited for you to join him.
When you were both naked, Turpin caught you from behind in front of the full-length mirror, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he positioned you to his liking. You held onto the frame of the mirror for support, your heart racing with anticipation as you prepared yourself for penetration.
But Turpin surprised you, dropping to his knees behind you and burying his face between your thighs. You leaned forward, gasping in surprise as his tongue delved between your thighs, exploring your folds with fervent determination. Your grip on the mirror frame tightened as waves of pleasure washed over you, your moans echoing in the spacious room.
Turpin's hands spread your ass cheeks apart, granting him better access to your dripping slit. His tongue worked wonders, licking and kissing every inch of your sensitive flesh, coaxing delicious sounds of pleasure from your lips. You couldn't help but arch your back, pushing your hips back against him, craving more of his tantalizing touch.
"R-richard," you moaned his name, the sound coming out as a breathless plea for more. His response was a deep growl of approval, his ministrations growing more fervent as he teased and taunted your throbbing clit.
Lost in the throes of ecstasy, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the pleasure coursing through your veins. But Turpin's voice cut through the haze of pleasure, commanding you to keep your eyes open if you wanted to see yourself.
With a gasp, you obeyed his directive, forcing your eyes open to gaze upon your reflection in the mirror. The sight of yourself, flushed and panting with desire, only served to heighten the intensity of the moment, sending a shiver of arousal coursing through you.
Turpin stood up behind you, his erect penis glistening with your juices as he spread them along his length. He commented on how hard you made him, his voice thick with desire as he confessed the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind.
"You torment me, you know," he murmured huskily, his breath hot against your ear. "Every moment I spend with you, I ache to possess you completely. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to walk around with an erection, knowing that you're the cause of it?"
His words sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you, igniting a fire deep within your core. Turpin's desire for you was intoxicating, drawing you further into the depths of passion with each passing moment.
With a primal growl, Turpin positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he prepared to claim you as his own. You braced yourself for the inevitable onslaught of pleasure, knowing that with Turpin, there was no escaping the overwhelming intensity of his desire.
Turpin entered you slowly, his thick, hard cock sliding into your wetness with deliberate intent. You moaned softly at the sensation of being filled by him, your walls clenching around him eagerly. But when Turpin noticed your eyes closed, he reached out and tugged on your hair, pulling you back with a growl.
"Keep your eyes in the mirror," he commanded, his voice low and demanding. "I want you to watch as I fuck you, every thrust, every moan."
You whimpered at his words, a shiver of arousal coursing through you as Turpin used your hair as leverage, pulling you against his cock. "Yes, Judge Turpin," you gasped, your voice filled with need. "I'll keep my eyes on you, Your Honor."
Turpin's grip tightened on your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he began to pound into you with increasing intensity. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, driving you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.
"You're so beautiful," Turpin murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Absolutely beautiful. How could you ever think you were anything less than that?"
You moaned at his words, the sensation of his cock filling you completely overwhelming your senses. Turpin's hands roamed over your body possessively, tracing the curves of your hips and waist as he claimed you as his own.
With each thrust, Turpin's cock hit that sweet spot deep within you, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You couldn't help but moan his name, the sound filling the room as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure he provided.
"Judge Turpin," you cried out, your voice filled with longing. "Your Honor, please... fuck me harder."
Turpin's growl of approval echoed in the room as he complied with your request, his thrusts becoming even more intense as he pounded into you relentlessly. You lost yourself in the rhythm of his movements, the pleasure building within you until you felt like you were on the brink of madness.
As Turpin's cock continued to pound into you, you felt the coil of pleasure tightening within you, threatening to consume you entirely. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing as he released himself in a powerful climax.
You cried out in ecstasy as you felt his hot seed spilling inside you, filling you with a sense of completion and satisfaction. Turpin held you tightly against him, his grip unyielding as he continued to thrust into you, prolonging the exquisite torture of your shared pleasure.
"Your Honor," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm yours, completely yours."
Turpin's only response was a satisfied growl as he continued to claim you as his own, each thrust driving you both further into the depths of passion and desire. In that moment, you knew that despite the complexities of your relationship, there was a connection between you and Turpin that transcended everything else.
As Turpin calmed himself inside you, his movements slowing and becoming more tender, he reached down to rub your clit gently, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from your lips. You arched your back, pressing closer to him as he watched your expression of pure ecstasy through the mirror, his eyes filled with admiration and desire.
"Beautiful, absolutely beautiful," Turpin murmured, his voice filled with genuine affection as he held you close. With one hand supporting your belly where the baby was growing, he continued to soothe you through your orgasm, his touch gentle and reassuring.
In that moment, Turpin couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt wash over him. He knew he didn't deserve you, didn't deserve the love and devotion you showed him every day. But he was selfish, a bastard who couldn't bear the thought of being without you. You were his, his beautiful and incomparable woman, who saw past his flaws and loved him despite everything.
As Turpin led you to the bed, laying you down gently before retrieving a damp cloth from the suite bathroom, he couldn't help but marvel at the sight of you. You sighed happily as he cleaned you, your eyes filled with love and adoration as you gazed up at him.
Once you were cleaned, Turpin set the cloth aside and went to the front of the wardrobe, intending to change into his sleeping pajamas. But as he glanced inside, his eyes fell upon his judge's wig, neatly arranged on the shelf. A smile tugged at his lips as he reached for it, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Returning to the bed, Turpin ordered you to sit down, and you obeyed without question. With a playful laugh, he placed the judge's wig on your head, watching with amusement as it practically swallowed you whole. You looked ridiculous in his judge wig, and you couldn't help but laugh too as you caught sight of yourself in the full-length mirror.
"It suits you, my dear," Turpin chuckled, his voice filled with warmth as he watched you. "Though perhaps a bit too big for your head."
You were surprised that he put the wig on you, when some time ago he scolded you for wearing the wig that he said was not a toy, but you ignored that, knowing that your husband was complicated and unpredictable, changing his mind and mood quickly.
Turpin leaned in closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he spoke. "Perhaps we should keep this little game between ourselves," he suggested, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I wouldn't want anyone else to see my esteemed judge looking so... absurd."
You couldn't help but play along, adopting a stern expression as you tried to imitate his husky voice. "Richard William Turpin," you proclaimed, your voice low and authoritative, "you are hereby sentenced to spend the rest of your days locked up."
Turpin raised an eyebrow in mock surprise, his lips twitching with amusement. "And what are the charges against me, Your Honor?" he inquired, his tone dripping with feigned innocence.
You poked his chest with your finger, trying to maintain your composure despite the playful glint in his eyes. "Your crimes," you declared, "are of causing sinful pleasures in maidens, seducing innocent maidens with your perverse charms."
Turpin's lips curved into a smirk at your words, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "And what is my punishment, Judge?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.
"You will spend the rest of your life locked in with me," you replied, trying to sound stern despite the laughter bubbling up inside you. "That is your sentence."
Turpin's smirk widened into a grin as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I must say, Your Honor," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "that sounds like a punishment I could learn to enjoy."
You couldn't help but laugh at his response, the tension of earlier melting away as you enjoyed the playful banter with your husband. With a playful glint in your eye, you reached up and removed the judge's wig from your head, placing it on Turpin's instead.
"Your turn," you challenged him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "Let's see if you can do better."
Turpin straightened up, adjusting the wig on his head with a smirk. As he adopted a more serious expression, his voice took on a low, authoritative tone that sent a shiver down your spine.
"In the case of Mrs. Turpin," he began, his voice filled with gravitas, "I find you guilty of stealing my heart and disrupting the peace of my mind."
You couldn't help but hold your breath as Turpin continued, his voice unwavering as he delivered your sentence. "Your punishment, my dear, is to serve me for the rest of your life. You will keep me satisfied, attend to my every need, and be by my side until the end of time. You are stuck with me forever, even when I draw my last breath. You shall not have another man in your life; you are mine, and you will always be, just like I am yours."
You were taken aback by the intensity with which Turpin spoke, the gravity of his words sinking in as you realized the depth of his desire and possessiveness. Instinctively, you reached out and cupped his cheek, searching his eyes for some semblance of understanding.
"Richard," you murmured softly, your voice filled with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. "Do you truly mean what you say? Do you truly believe that I belong to you, and you to me? Are you my Richard?"
Turpin's expression softened at your touch, a flicker of vulnerability shining through the mask of cruelty he often wore. He leaned into your hand, pressing a tender kiss to your palm as he spoke.
"Yes, my dear," he replied, his voice gentle and sincere. "I am already yours. I was sentenced as yours the moment I saw you for the first time. You captured my heart, and I have been yours ever since."
You couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion at his confession, the realization that despite his flaws and shortcomings, Turpin truly cared for you in his own twisted way. As he leaned in to kiss you, you melted into his embrace, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by an unbreakable bond of love and devotion.
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