⛥ COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!!!! I will write for Alan Rickman characters, bands, and the occasional wild card character!!!
A little bit about the person behind this blog…
⛥ My name is Julie but I go by Korpus Kristae or just Kristae online, It’s a play on Corpus Christi. My pronouns are They/Them.
⛥ I absolutely love talking about music, my favorite bands are The Cure, Type O Negative, and The Sisters of Mercy. Add me on airbuds!
⛥ I’m a Pisces and my personality type is INFJ. 🐟 ♓️ 🐟
⛥ For fun I play the guitar and I do a lot of pottery/ceramics, usually I don’t post it but who knows, that might change. 🏺🎸
⛥ Currently, I am studying Biomedical Sciences. 🧫🧬🧪
⛥ As you can see, I adore Severus Snape and Alan Rickman in general, if you have a problem with that feel free to block me, I don’t mind. 🖤🦇
⛥ I don’t care if you like the marauders just don’t be rude.
⛥ I love Peter Steele and Type O in general, I understand that some people view him as problematic so if that makes you uncomfortable don’t follow me. 💚
⛥ I do not support JKR’s bigotry and I will block people who do.
⛥ I think the best way to get to know someone is through their music taste so check out mine!!!
I have some late Rickmas prompts I haven’t posted that I might post soon, probably on x-mas eve. Apologies for the silence, I haven’t been having a super great time recently but hopefully I’ll be feeling better soon. x
Unwanted Solitude - Detective David Friedman x Reader
Warnings: Sexual content (Not smut), Alcohol
Word Count: 1200
Pairing: Detective David Friedman x Reader
Summary: David gets drunk preparing to spend another Christmas alone
AN: So... I've never watched Judas Kiss. I had plans to do so, but then I got super busy. Excuse any horrific mischaracterization, I tried my best but most of my basis for his character comes from other fanfics... I think he has a daughter in the movie? Maybe? Beware this might be absolute shite. As a Southerner myself I tried to include some Christmas traditions I partake in too! :)
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The couch groaned as David leaned back, setting his legs atop the coffee table, he seated himself in his usual spot in front of the TV. In a less-than-merry mood, he ate his Christmas dinner, if one could even call it that, alone. Lily was with her mother, where she belonged, enjoying a joyful holiday free of his melancholy. He told himself it was the right choice—she deserved better than a brooding father for company. Still a child, she deserved a Christmas with all the over-the-top cheesy, family Christmas stuff he couldn't bring himself to do.
He liked to think of himself as a good father. Maybe not the best… certainly, not the best, but he placed his daughter’s welfare above his own, even if it meant countless holidays alone for him. While David was used to the solitude, he couldn’t help but feel a bit downtrodden around the holidays. His marriage to his ex-wife left much to be desired, but even so, having a family to come home to around the holidays was better than the pity party he was currently throwing.
Normally, David survived the holidays by picking up extra shifts at the station, keeping himself too busy to dwell on the solitude, but this year, for reasons he couldn’t quite pin down, he hadn’t done that. Besides the lack of work, this year happened to be no different for David… or so he thought.
Half drunk, watching some cheesy Christmas Hallmark movie he’d never even heard of, David shoveled a forkful of the instant ramen he microwaved into his mouth before he heard his doorbell ring. Sighing loudly as he threw the cup down on his coffee table with a little more force than he intended, he grumbled lowly as he walked over to his front door. Not even bothering with the peephole, he ripped the door open and glared at whoever dared to disturb his Christmas celebrations. “What?” He said in an irritated fashion, half expecting some carolers to be at his door.
Seeing you, he paused, looking down at your hands he saw the mountain of food you brought with you that you were currently balancing quite precariously. Dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater and wearing a ridiculous dangling mistletoe headband, he looked between you, his girlfriend, and the food in confusion. Before he could even speak, you cut him off, “Merry- are you drunk?” You said, narrowing your eyes at David.
“What’s it to you?”, he responded gruffly, leaning against the doorway as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Pushing past him, you shook your head, “We’ll discuss your drinking later, move, it’s way too cold to be standin’ outside holding all this food.” Placing several large tubs on his countertop, you pulled even more out of your bag along with two presents, one labeled David and another Lily.
“Where’s Lily?” You spoke, looking around his house for any sign of the little girl and the cheerful presence she emanated, feeling nothing but David’s usual grumpiness you arched a brow in confusion. Turning to David you awaited his response.
“At her mother’s. How’d’ya even carry all this?” David asked in his familiar Southern drawl, still baffled by the sheer amount of food you managed to haul inside. His gaze lingered on your playful mistletoe headband, and a mischievous smirk crossed his face as he stepped closer
Turning to face him, you fell right into his trap, oblivious to his intentions. Still not quite realizing it yet, you started opening the tubs and explaining their contents, “Oh, I see, you had Lily in the morning and now she’s at her mother's for the night. That's a real shame, I made her favorite. See, I made pecan pie, gumbo, pralines, and I made you some of my famous-”
Before you could finish your sentence, David snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you into an unexpected kiss—sloppy, intense, and utterly passionate.
Once he broke away, you blinked up at him, not quite sure what to say. Finally, regaining your composure, you spoke in a slightly dazed and angry tone. “Dave! What the hell was that?” Seeing him smirk, with that same sly smile that always graced his face when he was under the influence of alcohol, you narrowed your eyes at him.
“What? You got mistletoe on your head. I’m just respectin’ tradition” he said, his tone laced with playful arrogance and cheek. David wasn’t exactly subtle about his interest in you when sober, but now that he’d had a few drinks, his confidence had soared. Gone were the usual teasing comments; tonight, he wanted to come across abundantly clear.
“You drunk bastard!” you swatted at him lightly, sighing as you shook your head unable to keep a smile from gracing your lips. Feeling him pull you against himself by your hips, you looked up at him in exasperation, an underlying feeling of guilt crept into your voice as you spoke, “If I’d known you were spendin’ Christmas all alone I would’ve come earlier darlin’.”
Shaking his head, David dismissed your guilt with a simple smile, something rare but not uncommon for him when either you or Lily were around. “You’re fine doll, I was half expectin’ to be at the station this Christmas anyway,” seeing you frown, he arched a brow at you. “I do it every year, don’t give me that look.”
“That’s the problem, Dave, you have me now,” you said with a teasing smile. “I’m more than happy to spend the day with you and Lily if you’d let me. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if we finally moved in together. Your place could really use… a woman’s touch,” you gestured playfully at the sparse furniture and the perpetually empty fridge which you often scolded him about.
“It’s my bachelor pad doll,” he said with mock indignation, pulling you closer as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “But yes, I think I would be the happiest man on earth if my girl decided to come live with me,” he said in a husky voice, right next to your ear which held clear sexual innuendo.
“Aright’ enough yammering,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes at David’s insatiable attitude. “We can discuss the finer details later, I have a present for you,” you said, taking the box from the counter into your hands before handing it to David who reluctantly separated himself from you in favor of opening the box. Tearing open the wrapping paper, he saw a beautifully bound book resting on some purple tissue paper, the cover gave away no hints as to what its contents were, leading David to become all the more curious.
Picking the book up, he opened it to be met with the most jaw-dropping, stunningly sinful boudoir photos. Every single picture was of you in a new piece of delightfully skimpy lingerie in all sorts of provocative poses, including a few pictures of you in his very own bed. David’s mouth immediately went dry as he gazed up at you with nothing but raw desire in his eyes, “You. Bed. Now.”
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Part 2? What do you guys think? Sorry, it was quite rushed so it may not be one of my best works, please excuse any errors
Next Rickmas Prompt: Day 13 - To Belong - Judge Turpin
Pairing: Severus x Female Reader, Reader uses She/her
Summary: Severus gets a sick after spending too much time outside in the cold.
AN: I wrote this in record-breaking time, at least for me. I want to do a few more prompts for Rickmas this year but I definitely don't have time for all of them sadly. Expect at least four more Rickmas prompts! As always, be wary of spelling errors and general nonsensical sentences, let me know if you see any! As this is one of my more less developed one-shots I can guarantee errors.
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“I absolutely cannot believe your stupidity!” You shrieked. Staring down at Hogwarts’s youngest and most infuriat- “most brilliant professor”. Pale and sickly, Severus lay there barely conscious listening to your verbal degradation as he shivered.
“You are overreacting woman”, he muttered, unable to keep his eyes open and his teeth from chattering as you surrounded him with all the warmth you possibly could. Hearing you slowly fade into the background as he drifted off to sleep once more, he was suddenly awoken by you violently shoving a spoonful of chicken noodle soup in his mouth, which he promptly choked on.
Sputtering, his eyes shot open as he coughed, sitting up in your bed, “What in the blazes!? Are you trying to kill me!?” Glaring at him from your seat next to the bed, you were holding the mug of soup you had lovingly made for dinner before you found out your husband had just so happened to decide to frolic in the snow without so much as a coat.
“You let yourself get hypothermia! You’re the one with a death wish!” you said, wrapping him up in yet another heated blanket after setting the mug of soup down on his nightstand. Standing up, you walked over to the fireplace and jabbed at the log with the poker. “Seriously Sev, it’s the middle of December! In Scotland for Merlin’s sake! We live in a castle surrounded by water! The wind chill alone is enough just cause to avoid prolonged periods out in this horrific weather!” you huffed, poking at the log with a little more aggression than you intended.
Severus, tucked into his mountain of dark blankets, resembled a bat in its most defeated form looking uncharacteristically pitiful. You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for having been so harsh. Nevertheless, the sight was absurd—cocooned in those signature shades of green and black, as though he couldn’t bring himself to wear anything more undignified than that, he looked so out of place, wrapped in those blankets so tightly that even his sense of bitterness seemed muffled. Mentally poking fun at him for the earlier fit he threw when you offered him a pink blanket you couldn’t help but shake your head in amusement, heaven forbid he ever consider something as utterly disgraceful as a pink blanket to provide him with warmth even if he so desperately needed it.
Placing your hand over his forehead Severus flinched slightly, still a little delirious and barely conscious, “How are you feeling?” you said softly, feeling bad for being up in his face for getting sick. His face, obscured slightly by all the blankets, was barely visible save for his eyes, which held their usual sharp glare. His cheeks were slightly flushed now, adding an adorable shade of rosiness to the potion’s master's usual pale complexion.
“I’m fine” he muttered, yet his voice was nasally and groggy, giving his obvious sickness away. He was not fine, in fact, he was far from it. Frostbitten, ill, and hypothermic a mere two hours ago, Severus was the epitome of “not fine”. A sharp almost imperceptible sigh left his lips as he shifted underneath your concerned gaze.
“You’re lying,” you shook your head quietly, rolling your eyes in exasperation before brushing your fingers against his forehead again. Sighing, you spoke once more, “You’re sick Sev…” you said softly, worry creeping into your voice as you felt how high his fever had risen.
He didn’t respond at first, letting the silence stretch on to an uncomfortable degree, much like a child trying to ignore the consequences of their actions by willing them away.
Finally, with a low grumble, he shifted uncomfortably, “I’m not accustomed to being coddled,” he said with a half-hearted sneer, though it lacked its usual venom. He was too exhausted to offer any sarcasm or biting remarks.
You softened at his reluctant admittance and momentary vulnerability, it was something you knew took a lot of strength for him to verbalize. Lowering your hand to brush your hand against his cheek after you pushed the blankets out of his face, a smile tugged at your lips, “I know Sev,” you murmured. “But you’re human, and that means you can’t just shut yourself out when you’re vulnerable, physically and emotionally,” you said, brushing his hair out of his face.
He gave you a pointed look from beneath his pile of fabric, his expression skeptical, but it was clear the only reason you were spared from one of his usual retorts was because he simply did not have the energy for one.
Deciding to take pity on him and spare him from the awkward silence you spoke up, “Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?” You said, coming to the conclusion that Severus was absolutely not going to take his illness seriously, nor was he going to take it easy unless you kept him under constant supervision. Already turning around to search your nightstand on the opposite side of the bed for the hot compress you had, you waited for his response.
He watched you sift through your nightstand for the hot compress, not so subtly checking you out as you bent down. His eyes trailed down your back and landed on your ass, turning around, you arched a brow at him, catching him in the act. Giving him the stereotypical, unimpressed wife look, you gently placed the hot compress on his forehead, causing him to sigh in relief, “Perv” you said lightheartedly.
Huffing in what seemed to be amusement, he looked up at your face, “I’d love for my wife to stop mother-henning me and join me in bed” he huffed reaching out for your waist so he could drag you into bed.
Letting him pull you into his arms, you reluctantly wrapped your arms around his shivering body frowning as you felt him shaking. “Are you cold?” you mumbled, pulling the blankets tighter around him.
“For Merlin’s sake woman, you have me swaddled in several heated blankets, I am warm enough,” he said, rolling his eyes. Dragging you underneath his blankets, he pulled you atop his body, holding your hips before he decided to playfully grope your ass. “Any chance we could partake in other activities that raise one’s body temperature?” He said playfully, arching one of his eyebrows at you in amusement.
Staring at him in disbelief, you let out what seemed to be the hundredth exasperated sigh of the day, “By Merlin you are insatiable.”
Next Rickmas Prompt: Day 9 - Unwanted Solitude - Detective David Friedman
Warnings: 18+, Smut, public sex, blowjobs, slight femdom, language, mentions of past injuries
Pairing: Fem Reader x Judge Turpin
Word Count: 2600+
Summary: Once Turpin's whore, you find yourself in the position of his wife, although with your new status as Lady Turpin, you find yourself still lacking the manners usually expected of a high-ranking Lady such as yourself. AKA: I had too much fun writing this and got carried away...
AN: I started tweaking at a concert I went to last month because the guy in front of me had long hair and a big nose... I have a type, to say the least... Anyway, I make do with my promises, even if it takes me three whole months. Requests are open, so feel free to drop something in my requests, keep in mind I write at my own discretion. Be wary of spelling and grammar errors! Point them out so I can fix them :) !!
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In the eyes of Victorian London, Lord Turpin and you, Lady Turpin, were amongst London’s most unusual couples. Your relationship came not long after Richard lost his ward, Beadle, and nearly his life after a brush with Benjamin Barker, a lowly barber he sent away on false charges who miraculously, found his way back even after being sent to Australia to serve out a life sentence of harsh manual labor. Richard emerged from the events, not as the man London had once trusted implicitly, but as a man teetering on the edge of mania, grasping at what little fragments of sanity he had left. Returning to the bench a mere three weeks after his attempted assassination, the subjects of London couldn’t help but notice a change in their infallible judge. Almost every circle in London was whispering about the shift in the judge’s demeanor and it didn’t take long for the doubt of his competency to reach his ears causing his already harsh sentences to become even crueler and unpredictable, casting a further darkening shadow over his once-certain judgment.
Most people expected everything to return to normal once the judge’s attacker had been brought to justice, after all, as a judge of the high court in service to her Majesty the Queen, he reserved the right to convict and sentence whoever dared to cross him, or the law. He was by definition, untouchable… Yet in the case of Sweeney Todd’s attempt on his life, it seemed that Lady Justice had already dealt her hand, taking Todd for herself, depriving the judge of the cruel justice he so desperately desired to feel in control. Spiraling further into a dark path of retribution that bordered on obsessive, Richard was a mere shell of the proud man he once was, seemingly falling further into the clutches of insanity with every passing day.
After being compelled to step back from the bench due to mounting public concern for his mental health and well-being, he was granted a month to rest and recover. One whole month—a dangerous opportunity to ruminate on his unexamined consciousness that Richard was not eager to take. By no means had Richard attempted to fix his wrongdoings, he was a bad man, an unjust, and cruel man who wielded the law as a weapon of his desires. He was a sinner, a liar, and a reprobate. He attended church only to enjoy the company of a whore the very next hour, he knew his life was one big contradiction. And still, he clung to the illusion that as a judge, he stood above the law and public opinion, he was a judge who answered to no one but himself, believing his actions bore no consequence beyond his own scrutiny.
In the wake of Richard’s recovery from the attempt that nearly claimed his life, your relationship, and subsequent marriage, seemed to unfold at lightning speed. The fact that Richard had forsaken many a beautiful, and no doubt rich, highborn lady for you, irked the British aristocracy who were all throwing their daughters at the judge to have even a chance of marrying into the esteemed house of Turpin. It would’ve been one thing if you two were young lovers but your scandalized affair only grew more scandalous as people started to frequently draw attention to the fact that you had, practically, in the eyes of the public, not existed at all, prior to your engagement.
The last woman Richard had shown any interest in was Lucy Barker, but even then, it was public knowledge he merely lusted after her, his longing for her was based not on feelings of love but ones of conquest and control, seeing her as a prize to be won. But his feelings for you seemed to stem from an unknown source… one that was less centered around himself and his personal motives.
In a society that prized status and reputation above all, Richard’s marriage to you, someone deemed “lowly” in the public’s eye, sent shockwaves through the cobbled streets of London. Unshaken by the public’s doubt of his choice of wife, Richard managed to pull out all the stops for your wedding, wasting no expense on the extravagant affair, with nearly every citizen near and far from London clamoring to attend the wedding. As guests observed the warmth in his gaze, they began to piece together a narrative that suggested genuine love that transcended societal boundaries. It wasn’t long before the public, hungry for scandal, sought to uncover the mysterious story behind your unusual romance.
The story given to the public was that you were one of the nursemaids who had so gracefully nursed him to back him to health, lovingly tending to him and eventually falling in love with him. While that story couldn’t be further from the truth, every tall tale had some grain of truth to it, certainly no nursemaid, granted, you did tend to him, in a much more… intimate way than originally specified, you two were indeed a rare occurrence of genuine love. Initially, you were just a contract—an arrangement for the night, a whore, to put it crudely. Once you, rather, he finished, you had noticed him wincing in pain along with the stiff movements of his neck, originally wary of the notoriously foul-tempered judge, you, strangely enough, found yourself hesitating to leave. Despite being expected to leave as soon as you two were finished, you couldn’t just leave him to suffer like that. This man, one who commanded London’s High Court with an iron fist now laid bedridden, his physical wounds matched only by a wounded pride. His growls and biting remarks about you staying to offer him help sounded more like thinly veiled pleas for help, revealing a side of the judge that he himself even resented, one that was weak.
Not even half a year later you were the highly feared and equally esteemed, Lady Turpin. While the fear came from your husband’s reputation, you yourself were quite the opposite of him. Instead of intimidating people to get your way, you often made use of your snarky wit and cleverness, a trait that Richard himself found endearing and discovered proved far more useful from time to time when intimidation wasn’t a viable option.
Seated at his bench, high above the court giving him the illusion of an almost godly appearance, Richard sat, tall and rigid. Dressed in his black robes, the long wig he wore—an obligation of his station—itchingly reminded him of the traditions he had little patience for. Leering at the people entering his courtroom he huffed uninterestedly. While his wife had managed to salvage his sanity and coax a flicker of gentleness from him, she could not penetrate the fortress he built around himself in public. Fixing his posture, he moved only to accidentally bump something underneath his bench with his knee, seeing you, his wife there, he glared at you kneeling between his legs. Smirking up at him with a lustful haze in your eyes, you placed your hands on his knees slowly parting them as you winked at him.
Grumbling, he snarled at you without any real venom behind his words, “What the devil are you doing?”
Currently sat in front of a fully occupied court he had to preside over, you clearly had no sense of decorum when it came to respecting the authority that Richard had, slowly parting his robe at his waist, you placed your hands over his pants, palming his already growing erection. The ruthless judge, so quick to condemn others, quite literally, was nothing more than putty in your mere presence.
“Taking care of my husband, of course, you must be so stressed, huh? All those responsibilities… my dear judge, my poor, poor judge,” you purred softly, your fingers tracing languid circles on his thighs. The heat emanating from his arousal was unmistakable and he was clearly getting impatient but you ignored him for the time being keeping the tension high.
Growling lowly, he narrowed his eyes at you grabbing your hand and placing it on his clothed cock, “Do not play games you little minx, if you want to act like this then carry through with your teasing,” he demanded gruffly.
“Oh, my…” you gasped, feigning shock, “right now? Dare you disrespect the sanctity of this here court?” God you were such a tease, how was he ever expected to behave around you when you acted like this? So clearly reveling in your role as an unrelenting tease… if he was in hell, you were most certainly the demon sent to torture him till the end of his days.
Snarling at you, Richard tangled one of his hands in your hair, a firm grip that asserted control without causing discomfort. “Careful now, love. Keep with that insolent tongue of yours and I'll put it to far better use," he growled with an arch of his perfectly manicured eyebrow, his threat laced with a hint of desire.
Laughing lowly, you slowly dragged your fingers up his inner thighs before reaching his zipper and freeing him from the confines of his awfully tight trousers. Already rock hard, his cock was thicker than your wrist and his tip was an angry red color with a small bead of precum leaking from it, a testament to his undying lust for you. “So impatient and rude… you’re supposed to be a Lord, my love, one with manners who treats ladies with respect,” you chided dramatically not caring to whisper considering the courtroom was still settling in.
“Last time I checked ladies don’t terrorize their husbands multiple times a day for sex,” he grumbled letting out a low sigh of relief, feeling the pressure lessen on his aching cock. Eyeing you, he huffed in amusement as a smirk played at his lips, watching you blink up at him innocently. A little actress you were, one who was anything but what she pretended to be.
Grabbing his cock, you slowly stroked it, watching as his face contorted in pleasure, not explicitly as he was still seated in front of a room full of people, but enough for you to get the satisfaction of seeing him unravel slightly. Exhaling a long drawn out strained sigh, he spoke gruffly, evidently, trying to have some restraint. “What a naughty little thing you are, playing with your husband's cock so brazenly in a courtroom full of people…”
Running your thumb over the tip of his cock, you heard his breathing hitch and felt him cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over it lovingly. Letting out a small whimper, he felt you take him into your mouth and swirl your hot tongue around the edge of his tip, tasting his salty precum on your tongue, savoring its slight musky taste. “Yes, mhm… just like that my love…” he hissed, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he pushed you down further onto his cock, forcing you to take him deeper.
Letting out a strangled squeak, you glared up at him with a mouthful of his cock as tears pricked your eyes. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he teased slowly bobbing you up and down his girthy shaft.
Hearing the thunderous boom of the courthouse doors opening, Richard glanced up to see the defendant being ushered into the courthouse by a guard from the jail. He barely glanced at the list of accusations before re-establishing his cold, detached expression. As if he wasn’t being serviced by his wife at that very moment.
Richard raised his eyes and immediately the court fell silent, making the usage of his gavel redundant. He struck it lightly for the sake of formality before he cleared his throat, resting his hand atop your head to signal you to stop your ministrations. “You are being charged with petty larceny and the garrotting of several women, what say you in defense of these charges?” he said, his booming voice reverberating through the courtroom, fixing a cold glare at the defendant. How dare he ignore you! Use you for his pleasure and tell you to stop at his own convenience? God, he was way too privileged!
Glaring at him, as you kneeled on the floor, your eyes flashed with anger and defiance, Richard, ever so oblivious didn’t seem to notice the anger radiating from beneath him. Ignoring his wishes for you to halt your movements, you started to bob up and down again, swirling your tongue around his shaft just the way you knew he liked it, feeling him throb against your tongue, you glanced up at him cheekily as he glowered at you. Consequences be damned, you were no convenience, and you certainly weren’t controlled by him!
Barely stifling a moan, Richard’s thighs tensed as he fought to keep his composure. Watching the defendant bow his head in defeat, he heard him profess his guilt, “I plead guilty and ask you for your mercy, your honor.” If he didn’t have a little minx between his legs he’d sneer at the fool in front of him for even thinking he’d be merciful.
Feeling you take him deeper, he watched as your hand reached up to wrap around the base of his shaft to pump what you couldn't fit in your mouth, with his breathing growing ragged, he only hoped that nobody could see his very obviously flustered state. His grip on your hair only grew tighter as he tensed further, his muscles pulled taut as he felt his orgasm approach rapidly.
Realizing the entire courtroom was awaiting his verdict, he coughed, trying to cover up any of the obvious hints of his arousal, “The jury will deliberate and your fate will be announced at a later court date, this court is adjourned.” He said banging his gavel before watching everyone file out of the courthouse in confusion.
The Esteemed Juge Turpin, widely revered and equally feared, had rarely relied on a jury—his rulings were law, laws he often wrote without deliberation. Murmurs filled the courtroom as the gallery began to question whether or not even Richard was second-guessing himself. The reason behind his stalling was, in truth, much simpler than what they suspected. Richard was merely just a pawn in his wife’s new uptaking of mischief and suffering the consequences.
After everyone filed out and left, Richard’s head fell back against his chair as you continued to suck him off. “You are so dead-” he groaned, not even able to finish his snarky comment as he felt his cock throb with his impending orgasm. With a strangled gasp and a deep guttural groan, Richard’s hips bucked into you as he came hard, his seed spilling down your throat in thick, hot, spurts that even you struggled to keep up with. After his orgasm subsided, you released his cock with a wet pop, the sound reverberating through the empty courtroom.
Slumping back against his chair, you watched with a satisfied smile as he struggled to catch his breath, his chest heaving. Tucking him back into his pants, you heard him hiss, his cock was incredibly oversensitive after that mindblowing orgasm no doubt. Standing up, you dusted off your dress, looking at him with a wicked smirk, “Hmph, what was that love?”
Sneering at you with half-lidded eyes, Richard huffed, unable to punish you for the time being, “Your arse is going to be so red when I get my hands on you,” he rasped out, watching you saunter away. He was so going to get you back tenfold, despite his mostly playful annoyance, deep down, he couldn’t deny the obvious satisfaction he got from surrendering his control to you…
I’ve been secretly cooking for a little while and I think I’m almost ready to post my new fanfic… expect a one-shot today or tomorrow… spoiler: It’s smutty
