#Raymond de merville x you

[fizzyxcustard]

Heaven and Hell (2)

Part 1

Fandom: Pilgrimage (2017)

Pairings: Raymond de Merville x Fem!Reader, Fem!Reader x Original male character

Word count: 2791

Warnings: Language, angst, arranged marriage, sexual references, slight religious/spiritual symbols and references.

Summary: From the imagine “Raymond has lost all hope of love and completely shut his heart down after losing everyone he has ever loved. Until he meets you.” 

Comments: Requested by @linasofia and @sazzlep

As always, if you wish to be added to my tag lists, please let me know.

You woke the next morning with your mind still full of Raymond. He had visited you in your dreams, kissing you again, and this time you reciprocated, bearing your all to him. 

The light was breaking through a thin layer of cloud which was on the horizon, and you could see the gold and orange hues beginning to seep from behind the trees. For a few moments you lay on your bed and looked out of the window, with only your breath and the twittering of birds being the source of any sound. 

A tightness had begun to twist in your chest as you thought on Raymond’s words. Was he truly offering a life of love and companionship? Or was it just an act to help you become ensnared by his lustful want of you? 

The day began like so many others; you ate breakfast alongside your mother and father, and then moved off into the main sewing room with your mother, to finish a gown which had been requested by Baron de Merville’s younger sister, Marie. 

Your mother and you remained in silence for most of the morning, until she spoke. “I received word this morning that you were seen in the company of the Baron’s son.” She looked at you with dark eyes. Accusation and anger sat behind them. 

“Y…yes, I was,” you replied. Lying as to your whereabouts would only cause more problems for you, so you decided to tell the truth. 

“But you are to be wed next month.” 

“I know, Mother. But Raymond has become a friend to me.”

Your mother leaned closer to you and dropped her needle. “You have no idea what that man is capable of. He is a friend to no one but himself and his own wants.” Her eyes were wide in anger and desperation. 

“You do not know him personally…”

“I do not need to know him personally. His reputation has been formed from reliable sources, and I will not have you partaking in his company any more, do you understand me?”

*

Raymond spat commands at his men, feeling that fire burn in his chest and stomach. His ice-blue eyes focused on Henri, and the longer he glared, the more vivid Raymond’s imaginations became. All he could see in his mind’s eyes was bludgeoning the bastard to death, and then pulling you before the body, where the two of you made love in an act of defiance. 

Just as Raymond’s men were disbanding to have lunch, Raymond stood next to Henri and grabbed his arm. “Off to see your whore?” Raymond snarled. 

“What of it?” Henri replied, his voice shaking as he looked up at his commander. 

“Raymond?” a gentle voice came. 

That voice made a flutter rise in Raymond’s gut. He recognised that sweet voice, and instantly spun on his heel to see you. In your hands was more food, covered in cloth. “Leave us be, Henri. Raymond is right, you have a whore to satisfy.” Your words were cold, and as you spoke, your gaze never left Raymond’s. 

Henri disappeared in silence with a sigh and gentle shrug of his shoulders. 

Raymond sat opposite you and watched as you opened the cloth and began taking food out to hand to him. His eyes were red hot, and all you could feel as intense heat taking control of your body. 

“My mother knows about us, Raymond, and has forbid me from seeing you. She believes you to be dangerous,” you told him, handing him a piece of freshly baked fruit bread. 

Raymond smirked. “Yet here you are.” 

“Here I am,” you said, eating a grape slowly. “Maybe I’m too curious for my own good.” 

You held your head low for a few seconds, and Raymond noticed this. He frowned and leaned in. “Something bothers you.” 

You lifted your gaze back to him and sighed, narrowing your eyes. 

“Your mother’s words have made you question me, have they not?” 

You saw the sadness swell in his eyes, which then became dark with a flash of anger. You reached across and touched his hand, brushing your fingertips across his tanned skin. “I know I must make up my own mind about you, but I cannot stop the doubts rising when my own mother warns me about you.” 

“She wishes for you to marry Henri, so of course she will tell you of how evil a man I am. It is true, that I can be an evil man, but you help curb that side of me, Cheri. I am guessing that she is aware of our interest in each other.” 

The way he said ‘interest’ made a shiver of excitement race up your spine. It was deep, and his eyes smouldered now in want. The sadness had disappeared, leaving lust in its wake. 

Before the two of you parted that lunch time, Raymond reached for your hand and lifted it to his lips and kissed it. “Will you meet me again this evening? I wish to show you something. Do not worry about your attire as I shall be taking you for a stroll.” 

You couldn’t help but grin and giggle. “Where shall we meet and at what time?” 

“Just as the sun sets. On the bank of the river at the entrance to the forest road.” 

*

It wasn’t long before sunset and you paced your room, knowing that your mother would ask questions. You glanced at your window, watching the colours of the sky turn to gold and orange. The window! With a smile, you put on your cloak and hood, then climbed out of the window. It was only a small house, with no upstairs. You plopped down into the grass and waited for a second, checking left and right to make sure no one was around to see you. 

As you tiptoed away, hoping no one would appear and catch you, it made you think how all of your life you had followed the rules. Your parents had organised every aspect of your life; your marriage to Henri, your work alongside your mother, even the friends you had as a child. It was all orchestrated by them. For once, you were making a choice of your own, following your own heart in search of something you desperately wanted. 

Raymond waited at the river, watching it flow. As the darkness descended, the water became ripples of navy blue and silver. The swish of the water was calming, until he heard footfall and snapped his head around. 

Immediately you saw his lips curl into a smile. And a flutter hit your stomach, moving up so it felt as though it were about to consume your chest. Despite the dusk taking over the land, you could see his long nose and the twinkle of his eyes. 

Raymond reached out and took your hand in his, guiding you along the riverbank. His hand was warm and calloused beneath yours. It was large, swallowing yours, but it felt so right. You felt protected, cared for. 

The two of you walked for a few minutes, remaining silent. Dusk was moving in, growing heavy around you. The first stars began to twinkle. 

You came to a small clearing, and beneath an old oak tree, was a stone cross which had been placed into the ground. Beneath the cross was an oval shape, made with various rocks. Raymond continued holding your hand and the two of you stopped in front of the cross. Inscribed into the stone was the name Sophie de Merville. 

“My father first met my mother here. He always said that as soon as he saw her, he knew she was destined to be his wife. But it was being my father’s wife that caused her death.” Raymond sighed and looked down at his feet. He swallowed hard over the lump on his throat while you gripped his hand tight. “I vowed I would never become him, but slowly I did. War broke him, as it has me.” 

Raymond’s silver blue gaze met yours. There was so much sadness in his face, mixed with pain. “You are not your father, Raymond. You see the kind of man he is, and avoid walking that path.” 

“But I did. I went to war for him, followed him, the very man who brought destruction on our family through his own wrongdoings. He owed money, and those he owned money to took my mother’s life as payment. The first day I met you, all I could see was my mother. No woman has ever showed me kindness of their own want, only my mother and you. You may be betrothed to Henri, but I can’t let you go.” 

You whispered his name again and inched closer to him. He was head and shoulders above you, and kissed your head softly. “We always want to please our mothers and fathers, yet they do not deserve our loyalty,” you said. “No one has ever considered what I’ve wanted, until I met you. I’ve always been led by my family, meeting their demands and needs. My happiness has never been a consideration.” 

Raymond kissed you, and together you both sank into each other. You no longer cared that you had known each other merely a week; what you felt for this man was beyond anything you had ever felt for anyone else. Time meant nothing. 

“I am the son of the Baron,” Raymond said, his forehead brushing yours. “I have enough power to stop your wedding and claim you for my bride instead.” 

“The dowry has been paid,” you replied. “You would need to take that money back from Henri.” 

“He can keep the fucking money!” Raymond hissed. “I want you above anything else.” 

***

The next morning and you woke to the sound of raised voices. It was Sunday, meaning that it was your day off from duties. You slipped out of bed, still in your nightgown and opened your door in apprehension. 

Was that Raymond’s voice? 

“She is already to be married to Henri. This was arranged between our families when she was but a girl. Circumstance meant they were not able to wed sooner.” 

You finally caught sight of Raymond, and immediately he made you gasp for breath. Tall, broad, powerful. The man was a beautiful sight to behold. 

“Henri is already fucking his whore on a daily basis, while your daughter still shows him kindness and loyalty.” 

“Loyalty?” your mother scoffed. “While she’s off being serenaded by you?” 

Raymond glared at your mother, towering above her. “You will learn to hold your tongue in a discussion that does not concern you. This is between your husband and I.”

“Raymond…” you said softly. 

Your father immediately noticed the set of Raymond’s face change. His clenched jaw slacked and his gaze grew soft at the sight of you. “I will take this to my father,” Raymond said, smiling at you and then turning his attention back to your enraged parents. “As the Baron, he has the final word on affairs of this village.” 

Your mother dashed at you, her face livid. “You have got a lot to answer for, my girl. You ungrateful wretch!” A sudden slap came to your face, which knocked you backward, and then a second later, pain swelled in your cheek. “After everything that we have done for you; kept you for many years past what is normal of societal standards. At your age, you’re already considered a spinster.” 

Raymond took a step toward your mother, his eyes wide. “You raise your hand to her one more time and I will make sure you are thrown into stocks. You should be ashamed of yourself for saying such things to your own daughter.” 

“You do not scare me, Raymond,” your mother hissed. “You come in here and act all high and mighty when I know of all the atrocity you have committed. Henri is a good man for her, and one that will no doubt teach her manners and how to be grateful for what she has. There is no way in this world or the next, that I would ever allow her to marry you.” 

Raymond edged closer to your mother, a smirk curling his lips upward. “Then I am fortunate that my father’s word outweighs yours.” 

“You cannot…!” 

“Oh, I can, and I will. And just for your disgusting treatment of her, I will take her to stay with me at the chateau.” Raymond’s gaze drifted toward you. “Pack your belongings. I will not have you staying here.” 

“Sir Raymond, please, see sense,” your father interjected. 

“I am seeing sense! You wish to wed your daughter to a man who is not worthy of her. And in her defence, before she met me, she was still attending to that bastard’s every whim while he was away fucking his whore in the barn. And you callher ungrateful? She was ready to see that marriage through, but I’m the one who is putting a stop to it.” 

“And when did you grow a heart?” your mother countered. “Surely she can’t have changed your mind on your view of women.” 

Raymond scoffed. “Consider yourself a mother? Come now, get your belongings.” 

You did as Raymond insisted and began to pack clothing, along with a wooden cross that once belonged to your grandmother. Your chest was swelling with so many unfamiliar emotions, all of them being aimed at your mother and Raymond. 

Footsteps alerted you that someone was behind you. And as you turned, you were shocked to see Raymond standing in the doorway. Both of you smiled at each other, with silence lingering in the physical space that kept you apart. Raymond’s smiles now reached his eyes, causing the silver blue depths to sparkle in happiness and joy. Upon first meeting him and they were always dark, a sign of his loneliness and the oppression of a heavy heart. 

You walked to Raymond slowly and wound your arm around his neck, stepping up onto tip toes. Immediately and he pulled you into a hot kiss, his tongue becoming so hungry in search for yours. 

As you both parted, he kept his intense gaze locked on yours. “Will you be my wife?” he asked. 

“Yes. I would be honoured.” 

***

Once you and Raymond had arrived at the chateau, which was a short horse ride from your home, both of you were summoned to the Baron’s main study. Word must have somehow reached him of Raymond’s actions earlier that day. 

Together you walked down the long hallway, passing the dining room and library, until you made it to a grand room at the very end. As you stepped inside, you were greeted by the Baron, who was sat at a large desk. He was glaring at the two of you. 

“I did not think that I would be waking this morning to question my son’s motives behind objecting to an arranged marriage,” he hissed. “These marriages build strength in alliances. But I have no need for your father’s allegiance. He has need for your future husband’s, I assume?” 

“Henri and I have been friends since we were children, so the allegiance has always been there, my Lord. I do not believe my father finds any necessity in my marriage to Henri.” 

“I will not be the reason that this marriage is objected to.” 

“I will marry her, father, whether you give us your blessing or not,” Raymond growled. 

The Baron chuckled. “Oh, Raymond. My dearest son, who has survived war by torturing other men. Who has raped women, been a drunkard, publicly denounced God, and suddenly you develop feelings for another human being? There is no love or ounce of kindness inside you, Raymond. Your mother always knew it.” 

“Don’t you dare speak of her!” Raymond roared, banging his hand down on the desk. “You sit there and act as though you are holier than thou and have committed no sin, when you bathe in it. You stink of your sins, father. It would take far more than repentance for you to enter the gates of heaven. Fucking hypocrite.”  

The intensity of the exchange between the two men was causing you to shake. Terror had wrapped around you and took hold, keeping you prisoner. The freedom that Raymond had promised you was an impossible future; no one was going to let you be wed. Everything was futile. 

“Raymond, let it be,” you said, defeat strong in your voice. “No one will let us be together.” 

“I will not let this lie!” Raymond exclaimed, his eyes wide in shock at your change of heart. His throat quivered 

“Mon amour, let it go,” you said again. 

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Heaven & Hell tag list: @bird-with-pencils

[mistresskayla-blog1]

The Spoils of War

**TRIGGER WARNING** Sensitive smut material present

NSFW - NSFM 18+++

Characters: Raymond de Merville as Mars - God of War x OC Rhea Silvia

Lyn's Writing Event 2024 - Day 13 - Week 2

May 13th: Week 2: Mars (god of war) 18+++  NMDI NSFW

****TRIGGER WARNING****  (this will be in two parts)

Characters: (AU) Raymond de Merville (as Mars – God of War) x OC Rhea Silvia depiction   

Fandom: Richard Armitage – Pilgrimage – Raymond de Merville

The character of Raymond de Merville was created by Jamie Hannigan (for film)

The character of Rhea Silvia is a depiction from myths and legends written by Virgil and referred from the Aeneid (Book 1) and other Greek mythology.

This is my interpretation of a Greek myth. Enjoy.

Location: Ancient Rome – The Punic Wars  

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: graphic violence, rape, Greek undertones, shewolf, shame, abuse, dominant male, religious factions, character death, virginity, forced impregnation (implied), rope play, forced fellatio,

            Mars rode into the city, he was battered and bruised but triumphant in his latest battle. He saw a woman sitting on the steps of the temple and dismounted, somewhat compelled. As he approached her, a statesmen came up to him,

“Mars, how is the battles?” Amulius asked. Mars looked at Amulius and then to the woman, “It is well. Now what business do you have with me?” he gritted his teeth.

Amulius blocked his advance, “If you are looking to pursue her, I had a deal to strike with you”. Mars stopped moving, and looked down at Amulius, “I’m listening” mars said, cooly.

Amulius put a hand on his shoulder and stepped away from the steps further from steps, “That is my sister, Rhea Silvia, and I have made her a vestal virgin. She comes highly regarded but I cannot have her heirs, so, well” he looked at Mars and then down at the ground.

Mars nodded, “I see, so I can have her, but if she bears fruit I am to what? Kill my progeny?”

Amulius, “Yes, in a manner, but be not worried, she knows not of a man, she is pure. And –“

Mars cut him off, “That’s enough, I care not about such things. Send her to me tonight”. Mars walked off and away from Amulius and the distant Rhea Silvia, who looked towards him as he tread past. His armor glistened in the afternoon light and it clattered as he proceeded away.

Amulius stomped towards her, and pulled Rhea up from the steps, “You are to be a bride now, and that is final.” Rhea pulled her arm away, but Amulius was forceful, “Take your hand off me. I am a protected priestess”. Rhea tried to stand her ground.

Amulius glared at her, “I made you a vestal to keep you quiet, but now I have another use for you, but if you betray me and create heirs I will destroy you”. Rhea shuddered, “How am I to do that my.. (gulped) King?” Amulius amusedly looked at her, staring at her bosom that was covered in the gauzy fabric of the age, “I am sure you will please him, but you dare not enjoy it”.

Rhea eyes wide looked in a manner confused and terrified. Amulius led her away from the Vesta temple and down to some quarters where he ordered servants to strip her and bathe her. Rhea stood in the tub, tears running down her cheeks. Servants rubbed her down with cloths until her pale skin was reddened. Then they dressed her again in a bridal shift. 

Rhea was a beautiful woman, not like the goddesses they worshipped in what would become the city of Rome, but still quite taking, and her eyes were bright with promise, until today. Rhea trembled in her new gown, and waited until she was retrieved. A robe of dark blues was placed over her shoulders and clasped in the front. It was night now, and the chill of the area was setting in.

---

Torches were lit on the hall walls, and Amulius entered the room.

“It is time, the arrangements have been made, you are his wife now”. Amulius spoke. Rhea looked puzzled, “without a ceremony?” Amulius sneered, “This isn’t a public display, it is just affairs of state”. Rhea looked down and walked slowly towards him, “Please brother be merciful, he is a brut, surely you know that”. Amulius looked at Rhea in the eyes then, and unmistakably sighed greedily, “Oh, I’m counting on it”. Rhea’s eyes widened again, as Amulius let out a deep throaty sinister chuckle. Rhea gathered her robe tighter about her and followed him down the corridor.

A while later they were in the center of the palace, in a section she was unfamiliar with, even though she had spent many years exploring the palace as a child. She could smell the stench of unclean men and hear the ruckus of their chants. A revelry was going on in a room, and she looked up long enough to see them taking part in a drinking game of sorts. Pounding the table and shouting wildly, most men in various layers of battle garb, some nearly nude, she blushed discernibly.

Amulius knocked on a door in the corridor, and a gruff deep voice boomed on the other side. Rhea shivered, even though there was no breeze tonight. Amulius covered her face with the hood of the robe and waited for the door to open. Heavy foot falls came to the door, and when it lurched open a tall dark-haired man stood, somewhat undressed, from battle, an apple in his hand. Mars looked at Amulius amused, “Oh, right. Is this her then?” Mars looked to Rhea, whose eyes were careening past the shadow of her hood, he saw her soft lips, and he groaned into the apple as he took a bite, “Leave her with me” he said to Amulius. Amulius, smirked, “the papers are all in order, Mars”. Mars snatched a scroll from Amulius’ hand. Then looked him up and down again, scoffing, “For a King you do an awful lot of your own dirty work.”

Amulius, “This one I wanted to take care of personally. She is my niece after all”, he replied, bringing his arm around Rhea’s back and pushing her into Mars as he stood barring the doorway with his frame. Rhea’s eyes were fixed on his hulking chest, it breathed in and out as he chewed his apple, the crunching noise above her ears. She dare not look him in the eyes, she was far too nervous. Amulius retreated and went back to his own chambers for a night of blissful sleep.

            When Rhea knew he was out of earshot she fell to her knees in front of Mars, “Please, my, Archon, please take pity on me, and let me go back to my work a vestal, I promise I will bring no shame upon you.” Mars chuckled, still chewing his apple. He grabbed Rhea by the shoulder and drug her inside the room, closing the door and locking it. He dropped is hands from her shoulder and she dropped her hood. Her brown eyes stared up at him from the floor, and he tossed the apple core across the room and yanked her up to her feet. His eyes searched hers for something, innocence? Meaning? Love? Hate? Rhea did not know. Rhea saw him visibly smell her, take her in, his hands squeezing her upper arms so intensely she let out a little whimper. Mars shook her a little at that, and Rhea turned her head away from him. Mars set her on her feet then, and placed his hand across her chin, “You think I care about your family’s honor. I am a god amongst men” he spat, his face was so close to her, she could smell the apple on his breath, amongst other things and feel the heat of his breath. Mars pivoted and tossed her towards the bed then made two hasty strides to meet her there.

Rhea cowered at the end of the bed; eyes bright. Rhea slumped to the floor again, but removed her robe, leaving her shift that was so thin, he could see the nipples bead against the fabric. He picked her up again, and set her on the end of the bed, and grabbed her breast in his meaty hand, and massaged it, his thumb brushing the nipples through the fabric. Rhea felt a new sensation tingle through her, but she was still scared. Her other nipple followed suit and pursed against the fabric. Mars watched her face as she let him touch her. All things happened in microseconds of time.

Mars tore at her gown, exposing all of her to him. He roared excitedly and shucked off his pants hastily. Rhea shivered again, and closed her eyes, as his hands were all over her. Gripping her buttocks, her hips, and brushing by her throat. His one hand on the back of her neck, he stared at her, then grabbed his cock in his other hand, and started to stroke it. Rhea looked down shamefully and was amazed at what she saw. It was large and veiny and it pulsed in his hand, extending from his body. Rhea had never seen anything like that before. He panted a bit, as he said, “Suck it” to her, and then he pushed her mouth towards his cock. She didn’t know what to do, so she closed her eyes, and he grabbed her hair and pulled, “Look at it!” he barked. She still had use of her hands, so she tried to touch him, but he simply shoved his cock into her open mouth and started to rock into her, his hand on her hair was tight and he fucked her throat with righteous abandon. Rhea gagged and spat and tried to breathe.

Mars just kept fucking her, and moaning, happily, “oh, in all my years” he crowed. Rhea pushed at him and gasped as he pulled out, his hold of her hair loosened. Mars let go of her and she choked and spat on to the floor. Her back was turned so she did not see the rope he gathered from the bedclothes. He tied her hands behind her, “So you won’t get away, or think to mark me up. I have a reputation to hold in the bordellos, you know” he smirked and chuckled, his voice deeper now. Mars picked Rhea up again, by her arms and laid her on her back on the bed, her arms tied and pinned beneath her. He stroked his cock again, filling the slick of her spit on it in revelry. He pushed his thighs against hers, parting them. Rhea tensed, not knowing what to expect next, but only hearing stories from the older ladies of the village.

Mars rubbed his cock against her mound, and felt a warmth and slickness, “You told me you haven’t been with a man, then why are you wet?” he cajoled. Rhea’s face flushed with heat, “I don’t know my archon, I.. I”. Mars leaned over her, and spoke against her lips, “It doesn’t matter now, you are mine, now, I can mark you however I wish, and I don’t care about Amulius’ little treaty.  I’ll fill you with my pups until you can’t stand it anymore”, he said grinned wildly. As he stood back up, pulling her ass to the edge of the bed. Mars entered her with conviction and Rhea screamed from the mixing of flesh on flesh and the tearing of her insides it seemed. Mars roared louder feeling her tightness against his throbbing cock. Her walls were untouched and it felt amazing, he pounded into her, holding her hips, his hands gripping her tight. Rhea’s legs were draped past either hip, limp, but not willing. Mars looked at her, and saw her ashen face, he slowed down a moment. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, towards her ears.

“Been a while since I had a virgin” he cackled, “And your so fucking sweet, you may turn me into a softer man.” Mars stayed deep inside her, Rhea’s pussy trembled around him, pulsing. Rhea could feel a warmth in her core now, it rose and fell with his thrusts, but in his stillness, there was a yearning for more. Mars felt the twitch of her cunt, and he smiled again, leaning down to bite her neck, and sucked her flesh between his teeth, “Mine” he growled. And Rhea let out a sensational moan, she hadn’t ever heard herself make that sound before, “My archon, what was..” Rhea murmured. Mars stopped sucking her neck, and came to look upon her, “That my wife was a moan”. Rhea nearly giggled, but still was mightily uncomfortable.

Mars started his pace again, thrusting deep and fast into her, and panting as he went. His eyes bore into hers, and still tears filled hers in fright and confusion. Mars pulled out of her and readjusted her. He picked her up by the waist, turned her around and pushed her face first into the bed, her ass presented for him. Mars grinned broadly, “oh the gods did smile upon me this day.” And Mars grabbed Rhea’s ass, massaging it greedily, parting her cheeks, and pressing his cock into her pussy again. Rhea moaned, but into the bed. Mars’ cock strained and grew thicker as he pushed deeper and pumped faster. He could feel his climax building inside him, and he wanted to fill her core with as much of his seed as he could. He needed to, to rebel against that spoiled King, Amulius.

Mars kept pushing deeper, right to her Rhea’s cervix, and he banged into it with great relish, bruising it, and causing more spasms inside her. Rhea did not know how to orgasm, he knew that, and her body reacted to him just as nature intended. Rhea’s face was smooshed into the bed clothes, her ass in the air, her core spasming. She felt totally out of control, and she made little sounds with her mouth, but she didn’t know if they were a call for relief or more. Mars went faster and faster and harder and harder. Rhea spasmed around his cock, and as he cum, shooting his hot load against her cervix, washing it with his seed, Mars growled again, and pulled Rhea’s torso up to meet his chest.

His hand drifted lazily against her folds, and he rubbed her clit a little. Kissing her neck, softer now, as she gasped from his fingers on her. His cock was still inside her, pulsing, and when he touched her clit, Rhea’s eyes rolled back in her head in joyful sadness, “Please, my archon, I don’t understand”.  He shushed against her cheek, “Its alright, you’ll understand one day, I’ll teach you”. Rhea’s eyes closed then, tears rolling down her cheeks. Mars cock was still hard, and he pumped into her a few more times, her pussy still clamping onto him, Mars breath hitched against her neck, “You are amazing, just think what can happen, when you know what your doing.”

Rhea blushed at those words, the warmth in her belly transferring to her cheeks. Mars’ arm held her to him, across her chest and against his own. Rhea’s arms still bound behind her. Mars set her down gently then and untied her. He rubbed her wrists, and checked for marks, tossing the rope aside. Rhea turned to him, gathering herself into a sitting position, her knees up at her chest. Mars looked at her then and realized how youthful her face, in the torchlight. “My god, you really are beautiful aren’t you?” Rhea looked down, and wept into her knees. Mars’ seed was oozing out of her pussy, and he noticed it gathering on the bed. He coaxed her with whispered to her to ‘lay down’, and he propped her legs up, against his side.

Mars gathered a bit of covers over her then. And Rhea gratefully accepted them. Mar’s propped his hand on his head and looked at her. Rhea looked at him still puzzled, “What are we doing now?” Mars lazily retorted, “trying to make heirs so your uncle will lose all he has”. Rhea smiled then for the first time all night, “Oh, well, if that’s what it takes, I will try my best.” Mars grinned, letting his finger make circles on her belly against the blanket, “And if it doesn’t, we can just keep trying.” Rhea looked at him then still a little shaken, “But not like that, every time, right?”

Mars looked down a second, a light in his eyes shining warmly towards her, “No, not every time,” he paused, sitting up a bit, “Unless I’m fresh from battle, I tend to be an ogre”, his boyish grin is almost endearing. Rhea tries to feel something besides the tenderness between her legs and the utter sadness of losing her position as priestess, “So what does a wife of a guard captain do?” Mars looked at her with as much seriousness as he could muster in that moment, “Take care of me, I guess. I honestly don’t know”. Rhea actually felt a bit lighter as at his relaxed confession, “Well maybe we can make it as we go along?” she asked. Mars looked at her a bit steely, his blue eyes sharpening in the lamplight “Perhaps.” Rhea nodded in understanding.

(Part 2?)

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@ scariusaquarius @legolasbadass @sweetestgbye @middleearthpixie @evenstaredits @lathalea @riepu10

Lyn’s writing event 2024 

[linasofia]

Le Désir

Part 2

Fandom: Pilgrimage

Relationship: Raymond de Merville x OC Cecilia

Summary: Raymond is travelling along the coast of Ireland when a storm forces him and his men to seek shelter at a remote inn. When he spots the innkeeper’s daughter, he realizes the stay has potential to be more exciting than he first thought.

Warnings: 18+

A/N: This is the second part of this fic. You can read the first part here.

When Cecilia was finally allowed to go to bed that night, she was exhausted. It had nothing to do with the guests staying in the main hall unusually late, but with the fact that —after their encounter outside the pantry—it was even harder to ignore the knight with the intense cerulean stare. She was terrified he got the wrong impression of her offer, and she stayed as far away from him as possible without being too disrespectful. Restlessness crawled under her skin as she twisted and turned in her bed, but sleep refused to come easily. As soon as she closed her eyes she could hear his voice repeating her name. He was calling for her.

The sun rose—only to be captured behind heavy clouds for yet another day. The storm had slightly decreased in power, but the sound of the roaring wind was enough to make Raymond consider staying another night at the inn. He was lying on his back and watched a small, black spider crawl over the beams on the ceiling. Eventually it found a crack between the planks and disappeared from his sight. Raymond’s stomach growled, and the empty feeling in his belly pulled him out of bed. The familiar heaviness in his head was a reminder of the many pints he emptied the evening before, but he knew it would pass. Frustration and desire made him drink more than he usually did, and now his body paid the price. Cecilia. Just the thought of her made his blood heat up. As if he was nothing more than a peasant, she kept herself out of reach for the whole evening, politely serving his men at their table but ignoring him. Only on a few occasions he caught her glancing at him—when she thought he was not watching her. She seemed to forget her manners when he was near, and the darker part of him wanted to firmly remind her of the proper way to serve a knight like him.

Cecilia was up early and got ready for a new long day. It was her job to feed the animals in the stable—storm or not. The family’s sheep were still eating the grass they walked on, but the horses in the stable needed hay. Especially the visitors’ horses, whose owners paid good money for their stay. She wrapped her thickest shawl around her shoulders and shielded herself the best she could while walking. The strong wind tried to rip it from her, and she was grateful for the short distance between the buildings. Their stable was robust, with thick walls and a low roof. The small openings let the light in and hindered warmth from the horses from disappearing. Cecilia’s father often spoke about adding more space to the stable so they could fit more horses, but it required a lot of money. When Cecilia closed the heavy wooden door to the stable behind her, one of the horses—a beautiful buckskin with eyes dark as the night—neighed welcomingly at her. Cecilia was used to horses, and her father had taught her how to steer their old gelding when he pulled a cart, but she had never been allowed to sit on his back and had no knowledge of what kind of skills it required.

Quietly humming the song Cecilia used to sing to her sisters when they were children, she began working. Soon the smell of hay and the sound of horses chewing filled the air. The buckskin lifted its head and looked at Cecilia while eating. Never before had a more beautiful horse stayed in their stable, and Cecilia could not resist admiring the animal instead of going back to the house and continuing with her other chores. She pulled out the small apple she had carried in the pocket of her apron, and the horse instantly pointed its ears forward. Cecilia giggled, and with a hand on the horse’s neck, she offered the apple. The pleased chewing made her smile, and she started scratching the horse under its mane. The mare—for it was a mare Cecilia discovered—leaned against her hand as if urging her to scratch harder. It made Cecilia bolder, and as she continued, she allowed herself to dream about caring for the magnificent horse every day. Lost in her thoughts, she forgot about time, and Cecilia leaned on the mare and breathed in her scent.

Suddenly the door flew up, and before Cecilia had time to react, she saw a tall figure entering the stable. With a feeling of being caught doing something she was not supposed to, she stepped away from the mare. She assumed the interrupter was one of the men with the unfamiliar language who came to check how their horses were faring. Her heart was beating fast, but when she met the gaze of the approaching man, it skipped a beat. It was the cruel-looking knight—not one of his men—but he appeared more surprised than displeased. Cecilia lowered her head in a respectful nod, unable to come up with the right words for a proper greeting.

”Cecilia, I did not expect to meet you here.” His voice was low and rumbling but still strong enough to fill the stable.

”I feed the animals every morning, Sire,” Cecilia replied, grateful to be able to explain her presence. She refused to acknowledge her racing heart and blamed the uncomfortable situation. It was time for her to leave; she had already stayed too long.

”What do you think about my horse?” His question was so unexpected Cecilia first thought she heard him wrong. When she met his piercing gaze, a shiver ran down her back, and she could not decide if she liked it or not. Unlike the previous day, he was not dressed in his heavy armor. Instead, he wore a linen shirt with a deep cut, and the untied lacing showed off a good amount of his chest. Cecilia cursed herself for noticing.

”My Lord?”

”I saw you standing next to her when I opened the door.” A slightly accusing tone penetrated his words, and Cecilia could not stop the blush from spreading on her cheeks. There was no point in denying; it would probably only make him angry. And she wanted to avoid that—especially here—where they were alone. God knows what he could do to her.

”I am sorry, Sire. I did not know she was yours.” Cecilia lowered her gaze. Then she forced herself to answer his question. ”She is beautiful and seems very sweet.”

”She is a very different horse during battle, let me assure you that.” Cecilia noticed how his voice grew warmer when talking about the horse, and it made him appear less terrifying. He walked over to the mare and patted her gently while speaking words Cecilia did not understand. They sounded appreciative, and Cecilia became curious.

”May I ask what her name is, My Lord?”

”Éclair, it means lightning.”

”Éclair,” Cecilia echoed, trying her best to make it sound as exotic as he did.

Raymond smiled to himself when Cecilia repeated his words. Her soft, feminine voice was delightful to listen to, and the tone she used made him wonder how she would pronounce his name—if she knew it. He was certain she would never dare ask him, but Raymond wanted to hear her say it.

”I am Raymond de Merville,” he said and turned to look at her. The confused expression on Cecilia’s face only confirmed his assumption—her father had clearly not shared his guest’s name with his daughter. ”You will call me by my name when you serve us this evening. Let it be known that you have learned it.”

”As you wish, My Lord.”

Her reply was an appropriate, obedient response, and it pleased him. Raymond adjusted the large clasp on his heavy belt and instantly noticed how Cecilia glanced at it. He could not decide if it was fear or something else flickering in her grey eyes, but he highly doubted the innkeeper used his belt to make his daughters behave. She wiped her hands nervously on her apron, just as she had done the previous night when he cornered her in the narrow hall. The look in her eyes reminded him of a woman he met many years ago—a noble woman—with a very wealthy husband, and one of the largest houses in Rouen. The husband put his young wife on a pedestal and worshiped her. She truly had everything a woman could possibly need—except one thing she secretly desired. She was not allowed to do anything out of the ordinary, not even something remotely exciting. Social events at their home were her only breaks from boredom in her privileged life. When Raymond ordered her to kneel—naked—in front of him, she obeyed with the same nervous expression in her eyes as the look Cecilia now was giving him. He knew he impacted the woman’s life that night, but he left for good the morning after—never to return.

Raymond gave Éclair one last pat and left her to eat her morning hay alone. Then he turned his full attention to Cecilia. Once again, she glanced at the hard leather around his waist. When he stopped in front of her, he did not miss how she swallowed hard. A soft tingle in his fingers made him close his fist. He wanted to put his hand around her delicate neck and feel the soft skin vibrate as her breathing changed. If she had been a noble lady, he would never have watched her so shamelessly as he did last night—like a piece of flesh ready to be conquered. The strong ale certainly spurred his vulgar thoughts—and fueled his anger when she avoided him. She put on a strong face while working the previous evening, but now, in the low light of the stable, his sober eyes could see clearer. And what he saw pleased him greatly. The warm color on her cheeks did not come from carrying hay, he was sure of that. Cecilia’s grey eyes resembled the dramatic sky outside—but he wanted to light the fire in them.

”Éclair is very special to me. If you make sure she is well looked after—I will reward you.” Raymond deliberately spoke slowly to make sure Cecilia fully understood his promise. She blinked a few times.

”I will take good care of her, I promise,” Cecilia whispered back, unable to tear her gaze from his. The knight—Lord Raymond—was watching her so intensely she feared her knees would give in. Then he closed the distance between them while mumbling something in his own language. Cecilia did not understand a word, but she did not need to—her body trembled in response.

As Raymond let his gaze slip to Cecilia’s chest—where the linen chemise covered her pale skin—he smiled greedily. Her neck’s exposed softness begged to be touched, and he slowly lifted his hand. She did not protest when his fingers brushed over the fabric, and the feeling of her skin under his fingertips ignited his needs tenfold. He could easily force her against the wall, lift her skirt, and quickly take what he needed from her. Raymond doubted Cecilia would fight back, but as he said to Dugald the previous night—a willing woman gave him greater pleasure. So he did not proceed with his dark thoughts. Instead, he trailed the soft skin over her collarbone while steadily holding her grey gaze. He wanted to see if a spark could be lit, and when he withdrew his hand, she exhaled—revealing she had been holding her breath. Her lips parted ever so slightly, and it made him certain—she was not unaffected by his touch. If he were patient, she would undress in front of him out of free will. “Now I want to eat my morning meal,” he grunted.

Cecilia felt dizzy, and she was certain she was going to faint if he proceeded with the gentle attention he gave her chest. As if drawn to him by an unnatural force of nature, she could not calm her racing heart when Lord Raymond stood so close to her. He was still cruel-looking, but less terrifying when not dressed in his heavy armor. Even without his pauldrons, his shoulders were admirably broad. And up close, he was alluring—handsome even—despite his deep scar.

”I will see if my mother is done baking bread, My Lord,” Cecilia replied weakly. Her inability to think when he was near bothered her. When the tall knight nodded and took a step back, she blinked as if an enchantment was lifted from her mind. Then she fled—very ungracefully—out of the stable. Cecilia needed to breathe the fresh air and leave the captivating musky scent behind.

***

Darkness fell over the endless green hills, but in the inn’s main hall, warmth from the fireplace mingled with body heat from the people seated at the tables. Food was served in large portions, and the smell of roasted meat, gravy, tobacco, and ale filled the air. Cecilia and her sisters were busy trying to fulfill their guests’ wishes, and the steady stream of ale secured a pleased mood among the men. Cecilia had been occupied all day with different things her father asked her to do. The storm had almost knocked off some of the heavy branches on their old apple tree, and Cecilia spent a good amount of time trying to secure it. If they lost so much of the tree, they—as well as their guests—could say goodbye to many delicious treats. Her father did not need to explain how important the work was.

Raymond sat at the end of the same table as the previous night, and from there, he had a perfect view of the room. Cecilia had forced her hair into a thick braid, and he could see small strands of hair curling at the back of her neck when they escaped her ribbon. The braid would fit perfectly between his fingers, and as he watched her walking up to him with a hesitating smile on her sweet lips, he fantasized about wrapping the long braid around his hand.

”Your ale, Lord Raymond,” she said softly as she placed the foaming pint in front of him.

”Thank you, Cecilia.”

Raymond could hear how Dugald choked on his pint, and when he turned to his friend, he was met with a wide grin.

”What have you done to the poor girl?”

”Nothing—yet,” Raymond groaned darkly and took a large gulp of ale. What he said was true, but the night was far from over. A raw chuckle came from Dugald before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

”A barmaid with such hair must be fiery. I wish you a pleasant night.”

Raymond did not return his grin—he was too distracted by the way Cecilia leaned over the table to pick up some empty pints. The apron tied around her waist accentuated her feminine shape, and he was certain he was not the only man who took notice. Deep inside his core, an echo of his heart's rhythm pulsated, driven by his most primal instinct—lust.

The evening followed the same pattern as the previous night—and many other evenings before that. Only the guests were different. One after one, they disappeared to their awaiting beds, and soon only two guests remained. While Cecilia and her sisters cleaned up, Raymond and Dugald were still seated at their table. Their conversation was held quiet, but Dugald looked at the copper-haired women repeatedly, and then suddenly, he gave a loud, unpleasant laugh. He stood from his stool, said something neither of the women understood, and left. Raymond remained seated.

”It is late. You have both earned a chance to rest. I can clean up the rest,” Cecilia said to her sisters, taking the role as the one in charge when their father had gone to bed. Both Alice and Isabella glanced at the knight in the corner. He was just emptying the last of his pint, and they doubted he would order another now when he was alone.

”Are you certain? I do not like leaving you with him,” Alice whispered as she nodded discreetly in the direction of the knight.

”I am certain. You do not need to worry. Besides, we are almost done. Then I will go to bed as well.”

Alice and Isabella looked at each other and then accepted her offer. It had been a long day for them all. ”Remember, you can always scream if you need to. Father will hear you—and so will we.” Isabella reached for Cecilia’s hand and squeezed it gently.

”I know. But that will not be necessary. Nothing will happen.”

They left, quietly chattering, and Cecilia took a deep breath. The confusing feeling from the morning in the stable returned to her chest, and she glanced nervously at their last guest. He did not move, nor did he look at her. For a long time he sat there, deeply lost in his thoughts it seemed, and she wondered what to do. Her father had only one rule for late servings—and she was not allowed to leave a guest alone. If the guest wanted to drink or eat, money could be earned. No matter how late. She decided to approach him.

”Can I get you anything else, My Lord Raymond?”

He looked up from his empty pint. At first, she thought he did not hear her, but then he lifted his long index finger and signed for her to come closer. She obeyed, and when she was standing next to him, he suddenly spoke.

”It depends on what you are offering me, Cecilia.”

”You can have anything you want,” she heard herself say, and it made her blush. It was her forbidden fantasy speaking, a result of their encounter in the stable—but not the words she planned to say. It sounded too indecent and highly inappropriate.

”Anything? Is that so?”

He placed his large hands on the table and stood slowly from his chair. Once again, she was reminded of how tall he was. A sly smirk rested on his alluring lips, and Cecilia had to force herself to stop looking at his mouth when he spoke.

”There is something I really want.” Cecilia almost stopped breathing when he placed a hand on her waist. ”I think you know what I mean, Cecilia, do you not?” His voice was husky again, and Cecilia both feared and longed for what was coming. ”But—I only want what you give me freely. I will not pay for your delightful company.”

The knight’s choice of words shocked her, but then his large hand gently squeezed her waist, and she gasped at the strong reaction it awoke in her. She wanted to protest—she never offered to warm his bed the evening before—but her body refused to listen to her. Something dark glimmered in his cerulean eyes when he pulled her closer and bent down to whisper a few raspy foreign words in her ear. His lips were so dangerously close, and she could feel his warm breath against her skin. Then his voice grew thicker. ”Stop me now—before it is too late.”

”I will not stop you,” Cecilia breathed. She knew she was playing with fire, but she could not resist. The low groan in her ear was enough to make her whimper, and Lord Raymond wrapped his arm possessively around her. His hungry kiss tasted of warm ale, and when she moaned in surprise, he slipped his tongue between her lips. With a firm grip around her lower back, he let his tongue explore hers in the most sensual way, and Cecilia gripped his linen shirt. It felt soft in her hands, and she was grateful he was not wearing his hard and unpleasant hauberk.

Raymond eventually tore himself from Cecilia. He needed her badly, and the lovely, displeased moan she let out as he abandoned her lips told him that she desperately wanted him to continue. But not in the main hall. It would not be the first time he pressed a woman's upper body against a table and took her without looking at her face, but he wanted more from Cecilia. Much more than a stolen moment in a place where they could be discovered by her sisters at any moment. Or worse—her father.

”Will you be missed if you are not in your bed?”

”I do not share a room with my sisters. They will not know.” A sudden shyness fell over her face, and the sweet expression made him even more eager.

”Then you are coming with me.” With a grip on her wrist, as if he was afraid she would try to run, he pulled her with him—to the room her father appointed him.

Raymond closed the small, wooden door and locked it from the inside. Then he turned to Cecilia, who was waiting—smilingly—for him. The room was not large, but the innkeeper had assured Raymond it was the best they had. Raymond suppressed a grin when he thought of how he was planning to show his gratitude for the superior room: by having the innkeeper’s oldest daughter moaning into the pillows. With heat boiling in his blood, he quickly pulled her in for another kiss. When they first met, she seemed terrified of him, but now, as he kissed her shamelessly deep, she let her small hands rest on his chest. But Raymond had other plans and when he abandoned her lips to place a long row of wet kisses down her neck, Cecilia moaned approvingly.

”You are far too dressed,” he growled against her soft skin. ”What a shame if I was to ruin this.” Raymond tugged at the sleeve of her chemise, and Cecilia could not decide if it was a threat or not—but she obediently reached for the lacing in her dress. The green fabric soon fell to the floor, and her slightly too-short chemise revealed a large gap between her stockings and the hem. Raymond groaned as his gaze fell on her legs. The sight of Cecilia’s soft skin made him impatient, and he reached for her chemise and roughly pulled it over her head. Instinctively she tried to shield her naked body from him, but as she did, he grabbed her wrist and forced it to her side.

”Sire, I—”

He hushed her with another low groan. ”You are not allowed to speak now, Cecilia. I want to have a look at you.”

Cecilia took a deep breath and let her other hand fall to her side as well. Wearing only stockings somehow made her feel even more exposed than being fully naked, but the way the stern knight was taking in every curve of her body was arousing beyond imagination. His voice alone had the most devastating effect on her prudency, but when he muttered more of those words she could not understand—she knew she was in deep trouble. She remembered the first time she had undressed in front of a man. It was several years ago, and he was only a few years older than her. Cecilia blindly gave him her heart; he made love to her in the grass on the other side of the green hill while herding the family’s sheep, and he was gentle with her—until one day, he disappeared. But he never gave her the kind of looks she was given now, and she sensed Lord Raymond’s brutal hands would handle her differently, too. She bit her lip as his gaze set fire to her skin. Or at least it felt as if he did. Suddenly he reached for his shirt at the back of his neck and pulled it over his head. Cecilia gasped as he tossed the linen shirt on top of his armor. Lord Raymond’s upper body was unlike anything she had ever seen. His skin was a map of his many fights—full of scars in different shapes and lengths. The firmness of his muscles in his arms and shoulders was no doubt the result of a lifetime wielding a sword. But what really made Cecilia’s core burn was his well-sculpted chest covered in dark, curly hair she instantly longed to touch. Lord Raymond radiated something she could not even put words to. He was a dangerous man, and as far as one could get from the tender young man Cecilia used to think so highly of.

Raymond proceeded to remove the rest of his clothes, fully aware of how Cecilia immodestly studied him. With a confident smirk, he reached for her wrist and pulled her close again. The sight of her aroused body filled him with desire, and he resolutely wound his arm around her waist and effortlessly lifted her up, using his other arm to support her legs. As if she weighed not more than a shield, he marched over to the bed while Cecilia wrapped her arms around his neck for support. The heat from her body could not be mistaken, and when he laid her down and eagerly covered her body with his, he knew she was more than willing. And she was a feast for his eyes. During the morning’s early hours, while the light slowly returned to the green hills, he spent a long time picturing her naked body. To his satisfaction, reality—by far—exceeded his fantasy.

With a well-placed knee between her thighs he forced her to spread her legs for him. She did not protest when he grabbed her stocking-covered legs and pulled them wider apart, nor did she try to push him away when he slipped his hand between their bodies. Instead, she welcomed his rough fingers on her skin with a sweet series of low moans. He knew he advanced quickly, but his needs grew stronger with every heartbeat. As his fingers reached her most delicate softness—he grinned in triumph. No words were needed to confirm the arousal summoned in her blood, and when he eventually withdrew his fingers, they glistened—coated with her lust.

Cecilia watched Lord Raymond as he inspected his fingers, and the satisfaction in his eyes caused her to blush. His cerulean eyes seemed darker when he turned his gaze back to her, and it made him look even more grim than before. His face was so close to hers, and his breath felt warm against her cheek when he harshly covered her mouth with one of his calloused hands. She tried to object, to ask what he planned to do to her—and why he needed to silence her so brutally. But his hand effectively hindered her words, and Cecilia suddenly became grateful for not being the untouched maiden he might have thought she was. With a single thrust he buried his full length in her, and she cried out into his palm. Lord Raymond’s feral groan vibrated in her ear.

”I would love to hear you scream louder, but I cannot allow you to wake any of your kin.” He pressed his hand tighter over her mouth as he started to move his hips. His impressive girth was merciless, and she fought to adjust around him. It very soon became clear to Cecilia what the biggest difference between Lord Raymond and her previous lover was.

When the initial shock faded—and her body accepted the new sensation—Cecilia was able to relax. The friction between his sharp meaty sword and her soft slickness slowly turned from pain to bliss, and she moaned quietly in rhythm with his movements as he found a pace they both seemed to crave. With his full weight, he pinned her down on the bed, and joined by carnal lust, their bodies aimed to burn as one. All of the sudden, he removed his hand from her mouth while rasping low warnings in her ear—yet something in his tone made her think he actually wanted her to disobey him.

Pearls of sweat formed at his temples, and when she ran her palms over his back, he hummed approvingly. It felt like stroking one of the hot stones after baking bread, Cecilia thought, as she caressed Lord Raymond’s upper arms. He was on fire—but so was she—and every firm thrust urged her closer to the one thing she instinctively knew he could give her. She was not unfamiliar with her own body and what it required, but prior to the moment Lord Raymond trapped her beneath him, she was convinced all men needed guidance to pleasure a woman. When the intoxicating knight impaled her, she realized she had been wrong.

While supporting himself on his elbows, Raymond breathed in the sweet, feminine scent that was Cecilia’s. He was reminded of the sea below the cliffs when he traced a small salty drop—formed on the side of her neck—with his tongue. Her frantically beating pulse drummed under her sensitive skin, and he longed to mark her with his teeth—but held back. In her hair lingered a faint smell of smoke, and he could easily picture her lighting the fire in any of the large fireplaces. When her body gave up its initial resistance, it allowed him to penetrate deeper, and the way it changed her breathing almost drove him over the edge too soon. But he desired more, and therefore, he fought to regain control over himself. He sensed it would be well worth the wait. Determined to see her eyes cloud over, he focused on the moves which caused her to unconsciously dig her fingers into his back. With every thrust, Raymond urged Cecilia closer to the moment when she would fall apart under him. He craved it—like a thirsty man desires cold ale. She met every rock of his hips with a desperate need, and her soft moans confirmed what her body already from the start revealed to him.

Cecilia lost contact with everything but the feeling of Lord Raymond’s movements, and all she could do was to follow the demands of her body. The low grunts in her ear suddenly turned to hoarse, indecent whispers. During their heated rendezvous, Lord Raymond seemed to prefer his own language—but the meaning was far from lost. Heat started to build in her core, and the sensation made her breathing short and ragged. Without doubt, he noticed the change because suddenly he wrapped his fingers around her neck—hard enough to cut off her ability to create coherent words.

“Be quiet now—like a good girl,” he hissed in her ear, and the warning made her body tense and tremble. Flames licked the inside of her thighs and when they met the burning fire deep inside her, an inferno of heat rushed through her body. Her skin was ablaze, and she gave a soundless cry as she clenched around him. Cecilia stared up into Lord Raymond’s eyes—only to see his cruel expression soften—before he grimaced and joined her in the bliss of white heat. Thunder seemed to roll between her ears, and when she finally came to her senses again, she realized he had removed his hand from her throat.

His chest collided with her breasts as Lord Raymond collapsed over her. He was heavy, but she did not care about breathing becoming harder with his massive body shielding hers. Panting as one, they rested, as if changing the position would break the spell that allowed them to move in harmony. Cecilia hesitatingly stroked Lord Raymond’s back, and when he did not react, she gave him a gentle hug. She almost immediately regretted it, but he did not seem to disapprove.

Suddenly he sat up with her legs on each side of him, and once again, she was allowed to admire his physique. At first, she expected him to speak, but when no words came, she felt slightly uneasy. Lord Raymond wrapped his long fingers around Cecilia’s ankles and then slowly let them run along her stockings. His touch was less rushed than before, as if he wanted to take the time to really feel the shape of her calves through the fabric. When his fingers reached the garters, he let out a dark hum. A trace of a smile was visible on his lips, and then he started to untie the knots she carefully made the same morning. The stream of foreign words he mumbled when he peeled off her stockings with surprising gentleness were filled with admiration. This time Cecilia did not blush at his sensual inspection of her body. When both her legs were bare, Cecilia smiled at him.

”You are very beautiful,” Lord Raymond’s accent was heavier—as if his mind had trouble keeping the languages separated.

”Thank you,” Cecilia replied quietly while basking in his gaze. He placed his scorching hands on the inside of her thighs and squeezed firmly. It did not hurt, and yet she whimpered and grasped the sheet. She could not tell if it was his way of showing affection.

”I…” Cecilia struggled to find the right words. ”You probably want to be left alone now, Sire. I should leave you.” She made an attempt to sit up, but he forcefully pressed her back on the mattress.

”You are not leaving my bed,” A dark shadow fell over his features, and he leaned forward until his face was inches from hers. ”I am far from done with you.” His growl sounded both as a promise and a threat—and Cecilia's body shivered in anticipation. She had a feeling she would be sore the following morning, but she would gladly stay with him. As the knight—whose cruel look she had learned to appreciate—positioned himself over her once more, she became aware of a small difference in the room. It was quiet. The storm was no longer tearing at the roof.

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Random Writer Anon!!

When you get this answer one of the questions (or all if you really want!) then pass it on to 5 writer friends! 🥰If you have more than one WIP, pick at random! We want you to talk about your works, and celebrate with you! ❤️🧡💛��💙💜

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1. What are you most excited to write with this WIP?

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Hi anon! 😊

Let's talk about my main WIP: Waking up in the Middle Ages (Raymond de Merville x fem!OC)

I'm exited to finish it. I'm almost there but the last sentences are always the hardest for me 😰

It became much longer than I planned, but it's always the same with my stories...

Raymond. Of course. I don't need to explain why 😈

[sorisooyaa]

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#5

Birthday - June 25th

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Movie: The Hobbit

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @lathalea​

“I’m sorry,” Thorin whispered gently into your ear as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, “I’m certain this wasn’t how you would celebrate your day of birth in your world, amrâlimê.”

The both you of were currently seated at the edge of the forest, near the cliff he had first found you, during his quest to reclaim his home. You were a shivering mess on the ground and bare feet, with nothing a fine thin dress that wrapped around your figure. 

He had taken you in, a stranger he found so endearing and in need of help. You were sure, he if had left you that day, lost in this unknown world, you would have been long dead by now. But he took you in, accepted you for who you were, a human from another world that can be mistaken for a dwarrowdam. 

He had learned to love you, as you had learned to love him. Day in and day out as the quest continued the depths of those mesmerising sapphires he possessed would haunt your dreams. You had never seen anything as beautiful as his eyes, there were so pure and raw, an enchantment that forever pulled you into its depths.

“You’re mistaken, my love,” You turned your head to pressed your lips softly against his bearded jaw, “It was more than enough... I’m here with you, in your world, with your people. What more can I possibly ask for you?” You whispered to him, as you rested against his chest, sighing in content.

Your world wasn’t always kind to you. It threw the worst of the worst at you, and you would have to climb with your bare hands and teeth, while everything pulled you down.

Here you laid content, safe and happy with everyone you loved around you. Bombur had even taken the opportunity to bake your favourite cake, it was only his first try and hence it was a small one, but it was his hard work that counted, presenting you with something you missed from your world.

Fíli and Kíli of course hadn’t stopped addressing you as their auntie and Dís loving you as her own sister. This is what you received, a family that loved you and a husband that believed in you greatly with so much faith and love.

There truly wasn’t anything more you could possibly ask for...

109 notes - Posted June 23, 2022

#4

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122 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

#3

Haldir

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140 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

#2

Body Swap - June 21st

Characters and Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield and Thranduil / Thorin x Wife!Reader

Movie: The Hobbit

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard​ @lathalea

AN: Ok, Thorin, Thrandy plz don’t come at me, this was just a joke!! Love you both!! 😂 @i-did-not-mean-to​ this is what I meant Angel! Also, I’m sorry no graphic for this, and I’m really busy for the next few days. Ok bye bye, Haldir is whining for my attention again! 😂 - Haldir: Shalini! Get off that thing and look at me chasing my tail or I will chew your slippers again!

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144 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Looming Anniversary - June 27th

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Wife!Reader

Movie: The Hobbit

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @lathalea​

A/N: Dedicated to all of us that desperately wants to give Thorin a hug!

You sighed and made your way over to your king and husband. He hadn’t been listening to a word you were saying for some time now. You had even left the room a few minutes back. He had not noticed your exit nor your return.

He sat there, on the chair of his study desk and gazed off into the distance. His eyes forgetting the present and being immersed in whatever his mind played as he gazed out into the outside. The cold draft blew in through the open doors of the balcony and he hadn’t even moved to close it, he simply gazed out into the view it gave him, but it wasn’t the low clouds or the wind that danced with the tops of trees, and bristles or fallen leaves he watched.

What he watched was in his mind’s eye and made him fade away from this world, mentally, because physically, he was still here. But how can one truly be here without bringing themselves to feel and react to the emotions a moment in time had brought forth?

You carefully placed your tray on his desk, and the aroma of the strong tea and freshly baked biscuits filled the room, but it was only when your hand had accidentally brushed against his did he awake into the moment again.

“Amrâlimê...” It was a heavy whisper laced in light shock as his eyes travelled to you, taking in both yourself and your movement. You smiled softly at him and grabbed the chair he had always set aside for you.

Sitting down carefully, you rested your hand on his, allowing your thumb to caress his strong calloused hands. These hands travelled through battlefields with the tight grasp of heavy weapons, powering through, channelling his bravery through every fight, but they also loved and caressed those close to his heart, one he cherished. So, you should know, for these hands held you tenderly close at night, keeping you warm and safe, made you come undone with their gentle but fast and firm strokes, caressing your skin as if they were silk on silk, and wiped away every tear that ran down your cheeks.

“I thought you would like some tea,” You said, cheerfully and grabbed the teapot. This time Thorin watched you, carefully, as you poured the tea into the mug, you were well known for those clumsy hands throughout this kingdom. They weren’t strong and made for heavy lifting like every other dwarrowdam, for you were half-human, inheriting all but your height from your mother.

You placed the mug carefully on the table and brought his hand towards it, he willingly let you, before he grabbed it himself and took a long gulp. You took your bottom lip in between your teeth, a little worried, hoping it wasn’t too hot to burn his insides.

“Don’t,” Thorin scowled, releasing your bottom lip from the hold of your teeth. The habit teased him endlessly and once he dove himself forward to release your lip with his own teeth, before pulling you in for a heated passionate kiss that led the both of you into bed for a night of ecstatic moans and whimpers.

Today, however, there seems to do much weighing on his mind to even think of making love, even though he would still gladly grant you the permission if you requested. But you didn’t, knowing it was the comfort he needed right now, rather than a release, the both of you can set that once aside for later... or after.

“Alright, but will you tell me what plagues your mind, husband?” You asked as you dipped a piece of biscuit into the tea and brought it to his lips.

He took it, the taste of it bringing little to no comfort to him, then, Thorin had signed out, “Nothing, dearest.”

You frowned, but it slowly turned into a light glare and you cupped his face gently, turning him to you, “Don’t lie to me,” You spoke the words sternly, “We are married, your bearings are also mine, husband. Do not keep yourself locked up from me,” You said, your thumbs caressing his face, and he hung his head down in shame, but your brought his gaze back to you, “I’m your one, know that I’ll never judge or dishonour you, for you are the breath of my life. I love you just the way you are, and I would like to comfort you in your time of need, just as you do for me.”

Suddenly, a broken sob reached your ears, and your heart sank, shattering at the sound of your strong dwarven king and husband breaking down in your arms.

“Husband? Thorin?” You pleaded, trying to brush past his tears and address whatever was their cause.

“The days are nearing to that time once again,” Thorin released his words in a strangled sob, a part of him shamed to allow tears near his beloved; allow him to destroy the walls he kept high and let you see the broken dwarf behind it all, but you were his one, his wife and queen, if he dared to share a tear or any broken part of himself, it would be with you, for he trusted you with everything within himself.

“Tell me, what days are nearing again? Thorin?” You gently brushed his hair and wiped away the tears streaming down his face and over his bearded cheeks.

“The days my grandfather was killed, how we lost so much and more during the battle of Moria, the disappearance of my father... everything!” He growled out, trying to keep his tears at bay.

“Oh, Thorin!” You immediately stood, and wrapped him to you, letting him bury his face into your body as you gently rocked him and ran a hand through his hair. He snaked his arms around your waist, gripping you tightly as he released a sob, that he had been trying to hold in. The sight fractured your heart into tiny pieces it was almost impossible to put it back together, at least not until you saw your husband smile again. You know by ‘we’ he had meant himself and his sister.

“Oh, my love,” You whispered. You wanted to ask for how long he had been holding this in, shoving it down into the pits of his heart like it did not matter and keeping up the appearance everyone expected of him.

But that was now important right now, “It is alright, their souls are safe. They have lived and taught you everything they possibly could. They are proud of you. You have come a long way. You, Thorin, my dear husband, raised your small family of your sister and her sons, reclaimed your once lost home, gave meaning to your nephews’ lives, and allowed your sister to seek out happiness again, with Dwalin. You have done so much, and more,” You held him closer, and kissed the top of his head.

“When my mother passed,” You began slowly, remembering the day how she had grown weak and frail; the final moments before humans had passed into the unknown, “My father told me, ‘when you loose someone... you gain a star, and they will look over you, shining in the sky for you’ live by that Thorin,” You whispered, holding him tenderly close.

You had dearly wished that Thorin and yourself had found each during those times. Therefore, from the very beginning, he could have sought the comfort he longed for. In all honesty it was Fíli and Kíli, that found you in the old human village, lost and in need of a blacksmith to strengthen your father’s sword.

They had led you to their home, a small wooden house at the end of the road. There, your future beloved was sitting on the couch just returning from his work, and Dís was within the kitchens trying to cook. Then, almost every day of the week you travelled to the other side of town, something drew you to him, and a part of you knew darn well, but could he take you, half-human and half-dwarf in?

While Dís and yourself had become quick friends, in seeing that you were close in age, only a few years younger than herself, with Thorin ,it was harder to befriend, even though you had caught him watching you from afar many times.

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175 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

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[shiinata-library]

Thanks for the tag @mikathemonster ! 💖

Ok, I'm too lazy to do 10 so there will only be 5.

Imagine: Being too focused | Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Bilbo x reader

You joined Thorin's company in Bree when they stayed at The Prancing Pony. Gandalf recommended you as a guide throughout Middle earth because he knew he won't always be with them. After a long, complicated discussion between him and Thorin, he finally accepted you, but not as a company member, rather as an optional person like Gandalf. So no contract, no part of treasure, and no responsibility for him.

Imagine: Another man kisses you | Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Bilbo x reader

Thorin and you are courting for a short time, and as he is the King while you’re a simple woman, you prefer to hide it. Who could believe the King court you anyway?

Not on the first date | John Watson x reader

One rainy afternoon, you went to drink tea at 221b baker street with Mrs Hudson, a long friend of your mother. Apparently, she had forgotten her shawl the last time she came to your mother’s house, and you had to bring it back.

Tea and apple pie | Bilbo x reader

You couldn't have asked for anything better than to live with Bilbo since he returned to Bag End. Yet today, your mood is at its lowest and you don't want to bother him. It’s true you aren’t well, but that is nothing compared to what Bilbo has been through, right?

Waking up in the Middle Ages | Raymond de Merville x fem!OC

“Are you a knight?” Sophie, a French petite woman with brown eyes and long wavy chestnut hair, asked when she saw a man wearing armour stopping his tired, heavy steps in front of her. “Your armour is great! Shouldn't you have a horse if you are a knight?”

Tagging @lathalea @legolasbadass @enchantzz @linasofia @middleearthpixie @fizzyxcustard @laurfilijames @blairsanne taand anyone else who wants to share their first lines! 😊

First Line Tag Game

Thank you @sunnyrosewritesstuff for tagging me!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

it doesn’t matter if you share the first line of the whole fic or only the first line of the latest chapter.  If you have a compilation of various fics in a single work you can share the first line of every piece or just the first line of the compilation.  If there is a fic you just do not want to share skip it.

I don't quite have 10 finished fics (That will rapidly change in the next few months) But I'll link the finished fics and give you a sneak peak at a few upcoming ones!

1.  If you asked Thorin how long he had sat on the cold dark floor of the small elven cell he couldn't tell you. -Restrained {E} Bagginshield

2.   Bilbo looked out at the massive hoard of gold. He hated this, he hated seeing Thorin like this. The warmth that had always been ever present in his eyes was void, replaced by the shadow of a dragon. Not All That Glitters Is Gold {E} Bagginshield

3.   Aziraphale spent this morning as he had every morning since he opened his bookshop 6 years ago.- Jealous Burning Desire {E} Ineffable Husbands

4. Bilbo stood swaying on the spot as Bofur continued to speak. -I didn't know yet that I loved you {G} Bagginshield

5.  The rustling of the sheets and sudden lack of the warm hobbit that usually would be nestled into his torso, jolted him awake. -First Yuletide Under the Mountain {E} Bagginshield

6. One year after Erebor was reclaimed the land saw the thickest winter it has seen in an age. -New Arrivals {M} Kili/FOC (Mind the tags!)  

7.   Bilbo carried a small unlabeled box from the front porch into the dining room and placed it on the table with a big grin on his face. -Mercy At Your Hands {E} Bagginshield

8.  In hindsight there were many questionable decisions that led to Bilbo being cornered behind the Prancing Pony, surrounded by people who were looking to pummel him, and brandishing a rusty frying pan.- Questionable Decisions {G} Bagginshield

9.  “Why, why did you do that!” -(Bagginshield WIP for TSF)

10. Being king under the mountain came with many perks, free time was not one of them. -(Bagginshield WIP)

I'm rotten at tagging people and I don't know who all's been tagged already so sorry for repeats!: @mikathemonster @iheartthilbo @cilil @ironmandeficiency @ilovemosss

[middleearthpixie]

Magic Kingdom

Armitage Summer Splash #30 ! Well, I did it. 30 prompts, 30 days and now I need a nap. I blame want to thank @lathalea & @fizzyxcustard for my exhaustion this challenge! 🤣🤣

And so, for the last time...

Trope: Pirates 

Quote: “It meant nothing to me.”

RA Character: Raymond de Merville (Modern AU)

Relationship: Raymond x Fem!Reader

Warnings: pure fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,725

***

The sun blazed down on you and Raymond as you stood in what had to be the slowest-moving line ever. Florida in August was not the happiest place on earth, no matter what the Mouse promised. 

Still, when you looked over at Raymond and saw him just gazing about at everything, just drinking it all in, you felt your annoyance fade a little. He was still adjusting to your time and DisneyWorld was nothing like the thirteenth-century, which was where he was from. So, for him, standing there, not really moving, wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It gave him the chance to observe, to see how everyday people in your time lived, the gadgets they used, the things they complained about—to him, these things were interesting to see and to hear. More than once, he’d expressed fascination as well as dismay with how people in your time conducted themselves day to day, and DisneyWorld was just a microcosm of twenty-first century daily life.

He turned away from the couple he’d been observing, each one oblivious to the other, their concentration focused on the cell phones each one held, and frowned. “Do the lines always move so slowly?”

His deep voice washed over you, and as the time went on, you found you understood  his English far better now than you had in the beginning. He still spoke with a heavy French accent, which at times made his English kind of amusing to you, but you’d adapted to hearing him, to understanding him despite that accent. The French he spoke was a little different from what you’d learned in high school, although you’d be the first to admit languages weren’t your strong suit, and you were learning that as well. And truth be told, there was something powerfully erotic about hearing him whisper to you in French when he made love to you, which made learning it a bit easier as well. You might not always understood what he said, but you certainly liked how he said it. And the blush that swept up from the edges of his dark beard when you asked him to translate his love words when the sex was over and you were lying quietly in his arms made it all worthwhile. There was something utterly adorable about seeing your fierce, thirteenth century knight blush at telling you he’d called you his beautiful flower in the throes of passion.  

You nodded. “You’ll see. This one is actually blazing along compared to some of the others.”

“Blazing?” Confusion clouded in his pale blue eyes. 

You smiled. “It’s moving fast compared to others.”

His dark brows rose. “Moving fast? This? I think not.”

“Trust me. It is.” You passed him the water you’d bought before getting into line. “Here. You look like you need it.”

He looked down at the bottle, already beaded with condensation. “But you were thirsty.”

“I’m fine. You need it more than I do.”

He shook his head. “No. You keep it. I’m fine.”

“Raymond… just take the water. I can get more if we need it.”

The line moved a bit closer to the actual ride. Pirates of the Caribbean. It was one of your favorites and you hoped he wasn’t too overwhelmed with everything. It was your first day in the park, and he’d already been a bit freaked out by the life-sized characters he’d seen wandering about, not to mention the frustration he’d had when It’s a Small World got stuck in his head and he learned the definition of earworm. 

You tried to play it cool, but you really were excited about sharing this with him. DisneyWorld was your favorite place to vacation, Pirates was one of your favorite rides, and you hoped he’d like it, that he’d fall in love with it just as much as you had. So far, the crowds seemed to be the only part he didn’t care for—not that it came as a surprise. More than once, he muttered something under his breath about wishing he hadn’t left his sword at home. He’d put up a fight about that, until you convinced him that not only would he not be allowed to bring a sword on a plane, but the TSA would probably have him arrested on the spot for trying. Probably not true, but better to let him think otherwise and leave the damn sword at home.

He sighed as he took the bottle and drained half of it in one swallow. “How much longer?”

“I have no idea.”

“Stay here.” He passed the bottle back to you. “I’ll find more water for us.”

“The vendor is right there,” you told him pointedly, gesturing to the kiosk near where the line for Pirates began. “Don’t wander off. I don’t want to lose you.”

He smiled and leaned over to brush your lips with a quick kiss. “I won’t become lost. I found my way from France to Ireland and back and without that GPS thing.”

“Yeah, yeah. You also got lost in Costco, remember?”

He scowled. “Everything looks the same in Costco.”

“But trees all look different?” You winked at him. “Just be careful.”

“Always, ma chêrie.”

You smiled, holding back your chuckle as he maneuvered his way out of line by simply stepping over the chains set up to shuttle you all through like cattle. By the time he returned, you’d moved all of ten feet. But, you were in the shade and that was what mattered, as it was far cooler under that awning. 

“And,” he pressed a fresh bottle of water into your hand, “I did not get lost.”

As he spoke, he draped his free arm about your neck and gave you a gentle squeeze, pressing you back into his chest. You sank against him for a brief moment, enjoyed the feel of his muscled body against yours, but then the heat and humidity reminded you why you hated August in Florida and you straightened up. 

Both bottles were empty by the time you were inside the building housing the ride and a few minutes later, you climbed into your car. The air was cool and damp from all the water flooding the ride, meant to recreate what being on the Caribbean ocean was like in the Golden Age of Piracy. Compared to outside, it was almost freezing. Especially with the fine layer of sweat misting your skin. You shivered, leaning your head against Raymond’s muscle-laden shoulder, smiling when he pressed a kiss into the top of your head and murmured, “Je t’aime, madame.”

You slipped your arm through his and squeezed as you began moving. He rarely said I love you in English and that was fine, since it sounded far prettier in French. “I love you, too, you know.”

“I do.” He jumped at the sound of a cannon being fired, then laughed as he said, “I think I prefer being on land to being a pirate.”

“Same. But, it’s cool in here, so there’s that.”

“True. I’m unaccustomed to this heat. It’s worse than at home.”

“A bit.” You smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “Home? My home or yours?”

“Yes, home. And both, I suppose, but I meant yours.”

You squeezed his arm again and settled against him to enjoy the ride. When it was over and you found yourselves in the gift shop. You turned to Raymond. “What did you think?”

He shrugged. “I like being in the dark with you.”

“That’s it?”

“It was… interesting…” He reached out to pluck a set of rubber manacles off a rack. “Perhaps we might find a use for these?”

You bit back a smile as a woman passing alongside him with a toddler shot him a look of disapproval. He saw it as well and grinned. “I think she finds fault with my sense of humor.”

“Now her son is going to ask her what you meant,” you told him, taking the manacles from him. “Besides, you’d tear these if I tried to slide them over your hands.”

“You go first, then.”

As he said it, he leaned over and kissed you. “And I know it seems like it meant nothing to me, but I did enjoy the ride. And I did enjoy being in the dark with you. Are there any other rides in the dark we could try?”

“Space Mountain. It’s a roller coaster. I think you’d like it.”

He nodded. “I like the sound of this so far.” 

You slipped your hand into his and made your way out of the shop. Raymond’s thumb grazed yours and then he brought your hand up to brush the back of it with a kiss. “And where is Space Mountain?”

“That’s in this park. And with any luck, the line won’t be too long.”

“Shall we go there, then?”

“If that’s what you want, that’s fine.”

He gave your hand a squeeze. “You’re very agreeable, you know.”

“It’s your first time here, so whatever you want, that’s what we’ll do.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want.”

“So,” he paused and moved to stand before you, “if I wanted you to marry me, you’d do it?”

You just stared up at him. “What?”

His eyes softened, a grin playing at his lips, and he rubbed along his bearded jaw with one hand. “Would you marry me?”

“Are you serious?”

He nodded slowly. “I would not ask if I wasn’t, you know. So, will you?”

You couldn't help your smile. “Raymond.”

“What?” He drew you into his arms, smiling down as he said, “Veux-tu m’épouser? Is that better? Shall I get down on one knee as we saw that man do near the entrance earlier?”

You shook your head. “No. The last thing I want is to be a spectacle. But, are you really asking me to marry you?”

“Love, how long have I been here? Almost a year now? Think you I’d ask if I wasn't really asking?”

“I know, but—” You just gazed up at him for a long moment, then smiled. “Of course I will.”

His arms tighten about your waist and he lifted you easily to meet his slow, leisurely kiss. As he lowered you, he whispered, “I have but one more question, love?”

“What’s that?”

“Do they have pizza here?”

***

Thank you all for reading and commenting and reblogging. I 💜 you all for it!!

Like it? Love it? If so, please love it, leave a comment, reblog it, or do all three! 💜💜💜

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @ggfamert @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78

[lathalea]

The Devil and the Witch

Dear diary, today I was a very bad girl and instead of writing clean fluff like any other proper author would as request for their friend 🤭, I ended up with several thousand words of filthy smut. Whoops! ;) @fizzyxcustard I hope you'll forgive me for the smut instead of angst 🤭😈😏

Fandom: Pilgrimage (2017) Relationships: Raymond de Merville x Witch!Reader Rating: E (18+) Author's notes: Smut, filthy smut, and rough Raymond. I played kink bingo when I wrote it. Kink list: slight dubcon (if you squint), semi-public sex, praise kink, sexual denial, dirty talking, size kink, beard kink, unprotected intercourse

Proceed at your own discretion.

Special thanks to @linasofia and @legolasbadass for encouraging me to post this fic, you she-devils! 😈😈😈

The Devil and the Witch

In the fairytales you read as a child, witches were always old and creepy. They had rotten teeth, hooked noses, and claw-like nails. A proper witch had a broom and a mandatory black cat, too. You were different: your teeth were in a much better condition (thanks, Colgate), you were definitely younger and your nails looked cute with that translucent nail polish. No brooms nor cats around – you were allergic both to cleaning and cat hair. Perhaps you weren’t the very model of a mediaeval Irish witch, but you were doing your best.

What was an allergy-prone, toothpaste-loving girl like you doing in a place like mediaeval Ireland? The answer was simple: you had no idea. It was the 21st century when you visited the Green Island for a vacation. When walking around the ruins of an ancient castle, you slipped into a mysterious narrow stone passage and followed it, but when you finally reached the exit on its other end, you found yourself in a mediaeval village, 800 years before your time, with no way of returning. 

An elderly woman named Dubheasa found you. She recognized that you were not of her world – she called herself a seer, but the locals called her “the Witch”. She offered you to stay with her at the edge of the forest and you accepted her invitation, having nowhere else to go. It turned out that she was a kindhearted person with a great knowledge of herbs and natural remedies. She took you under her wing and taught you all that she knew. That was five years ago.

Now you were the Witch. Dubheasa passed away last winter, leaving her trade to you. The locals, even though they were still distrustful of you, visited you often to seek help in their ailments, to ask for advice or solutions to their problems. You weren’t as skilled with the herbs as your predecessor, at least not yet, but your 21st century knowledge made up for it quite well. The life you lead suited you. Somehow, you didn’t miss the pollution, the city noises, and the stress of modern life. Plus, this place had knights. Real, fierce knights wearing armours that perhaps weren’t too shiny, but those virile men had swords, horses, banners, and everything else a knight should have.

There was one knight who ticked all your boxes. The Devil. That’s how the locals called him and the first time you looked at him made you think that this moniker fitted him more than well. He was tall and dark as the devil himself, ha had devilishly handsome features accentuated by a scar on his cheekbone, and his steel gaze made you think of the flames of hell. His powerful, broad shoulders, his physique of a warrior, his bearing – everything about him exuded raw male power. There were tales of his fierceness in battle, of his bloodlust and cruelty, and yet you felt drawn to the Devil like a moth to a flame. You tried to deny it, but it was the truth. 

His name was Raymond, the only son of baron de Merville, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him whenever you saw him at the castle, as he passed through the village on his dun horse or rode out with his men. You would catch a glimpse of him many times only to find that he was staring straight into your eyes with that intense gaze of his. After several such occurrences, you learned to be more careful. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were some harlot, a loose woman. Proper maidens modestly averted their gaze whenever a man looked at them. They certainly didn’t ogle handsome knights like the Devil and they surely never thought about how it would feel to kiss him, how his beard would feel brushing against the skin of your breasts, what a beast he surely was in bed and whether Mother Nature blessed him not only with large hands but also with other sizeable appendages. Okay, you weren’t perhaps a very proper maiden, but you tried very hard to blend in. And so you visited the nearby village and castle from time to time, selling herbal tinctures and other products. If luck was on your side, you sometimes saw Raymond training in the courtyard, muscles bulging under his linen shirt, and those images gave you quite a few pleasant dreams during your lonely nights.

One day, as you were at the far edge of your garden, taking water from the well, a group of soldiers on horses stopped in front of your house. You frowned – only the local villagers visited you, never the soldiers nor the finer folk from the castle. And never Raymond de Merville himself. You swallowed, seeing him dismounting his horse. This wasn’t yet another of your steamy dreams. Raymond was truly here, entering your garden and approaching you swiftly, after ordering his soldiers to wait for him.

“So you are the Witch,” the Devil eyed you from head to toe with a dangerous glint in his eye. “I’m afraid so. And you are the famous Devil,” you made a pale imitation of a curtsy. You weren’t one for courtesies. “Sir Raymond de Merville to you, lass,” he grunted with a frown. This was a different time and one word of a temperamental noble could make you hang in a blink of an eye. You were too fond of your neck for such activities as hanging, so you played along.

“Of course, Sir Raymond,” you corrected yourself. “What brings you to my humble abode, my lord?”

“You, Witch,” his frown deepened as he spat these two words. 

“Well then, how can I help?” you put the bucket filled with fresh water on the ground.

“This has been continuing for far too long. You will release me from your spell at once!” Sir Raymond commanded you.

“I’m sorry but… what? What spell are you talking about?” Now it was your turn to frown but then you hastily added the customary title, “my lord.”

“I am speaking of the spell that you cast on me! I saw you lay your eyes on me that day during the fair. Since that day I can barely think of anything else,” he grunted, taking a stride towards you, his chainmail clinking. “I see you everywhere I look! You sneak into my dreams! The vision of you haunts me every waking moment. Your hair, your face, your…” Raymond shook his head and fell silent.

Were you hallucinating? 

“Remove your spell from my person with haste!” Raymond de Merville’s gloved hand rested on the pommel of his impressive sword.

Uh oh. Am angry man and a sharp blade. You lived for too long in this time to know how it usually ended. Although… what was that thing he said about your hair…?

“I don’t know where you came to this conclusion, but I have not used any spells on you. You have my word for it. I don’t even know how to use magic!” you shrugged, trying to play cool and telling your brain to shut up and ignore his words. The Devil was extremely alluring, especially from this close, but it was clear that he must have spent too much time riding in the sun or something to say such things about you of all people.

“Do not lie to me, Witch! I do not know why you are tormenting me so, but you need to stop it! I am ordering you!” Raymond fumed, his nostrils flaring dangerously. He was even more formidable when he stood before you like this, with his strong frame, thick, dark beard, and eyes sharp as the hardest steel.

“Do as I say or there will be consequences,” he added coldly, muscles dancing on his clenched jaw.

“Allow me to repeat myself, my lord. I do not put spells on people, I have more important things to do,” you retorted, taking the water bucket from the ground. “And now excuse me while I go about my business. The animals need to be watered. Have a good day, Sir Raymond.”

With these words, you turned your back to him and walked behind your house towards the barn. The door to the wooden building stood open before you when you heard heavy footsteps behind you. Sighing wearily, you adjusted the grip on the bucket’s carrying handle and turned around, ready to face the Devil again.

It all happened in a blink of an eye. He closed the distance between you with a smirk on his devilishly handsome face, ice-blue fire burning in his gaze. He covered your hand with his and the water bucket fell on the ground with a thunk and a splash.

“A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t carry such weights,” he half-spoke, half-growled, lowering his face towards yours. Raymond towered over you; he was even taller and more robust from up close and emanated some kind of powerful energy that made you freeze in place, all your witty remarks suddenly forgotten.

“What happened to your sharp tongue, Witch?” He lifted your chin with his hand. His gloved fingers felt coarse, almost unpleasantly so against your face. “Not so eager to oppose me now, are we?”

“I told you already, I put no spells over you! I am innocent!” you managed to utter, avoiding his piercing gaze, ignoring the emotions his closeness woke in you. This rough devil of a man with his rough manners oozed danger and you realised that he, the baron’s son, didn’t take well to disobedient subjects.

“Are you now?” His words made you think of a growl of a feral beast and he bared his teeth in a mocking smile. “There is only one way to find out.” Before you knew it, he pulled you close and covered your lips with his. Raymond kissed you as if he were a hungry wolf and you were his prey. You forgot to breathe. A faint cry of surprise left your throat but his mouth was taking possession of yours, demanding everything from you and more, conquering, his tongue brashly exploring  your mouth. He was insatiable to the point of making you dizzy. All the coherent thoughts left your brain, there was only the scraping of his luscious beard against your soft skin, his teeth grazing your lips, his palm splayed across your back, pressing you hard against his torso. “Well, well, well, who would have thought? You don’t kiss like an innocent maid at all,” his growl filled your ears. Contrary to your expectations, this was not a growl of disappointment.

“I never said I was an innocent maid,” you offered, thankful for the support his arms gave you. And speaking of who would have thought – who would have thought that a kiss from a knight would leave you not only breathless but also weak in the knees?

“You have never looked like one to me,” he caught your lower lip between his and then staked out a trail of wet kisses towards the side of your neck, leaving your skin on fire. “I saw you many a time. Your eyes are too hungry. Perhaps you are not a witch after all, but a common wench.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He has definitely noticed all the surreptitious glances you cast at him whenever you saw him. And here you were, thinking you were careful.

“I don’t know what… what you mean,” you sighed faintly when Raymond’s hand tilted your head to the side and his scorching lips assaulted a sensitive spot on your neck. He knew what he was doing to you.

“You don’t know?” he rasped out, facing you again, his darkened eyes set on your lips. “No…” you swallowed, hoping he hadn’t noticed more. This man was like a hot spark on a heap of dry firewood. And you wanted to burn. Badly.

“Then let me show you,” without any warning, he pressed his lips to yours and then swiftly took a step forward, still pressing you into him.

Your back slammed against the barn wall, driving the air out of your lungs. You were squashed between the wooden plank and his powerful body, your breasts helplessly flattened against the metal links of his chainmail, and the only thing you could think of was his lips and his beard violating your lips and every piece of uncovered skin without mercy. “What…?” you started faintly, but then he wedged his knee between your legs and his inquisitive lips returned to your neck. You were supposed to protest at this kind of harsh treatment, most women probably would in your place, but his ministrations made molten lava flow through your veins. Nothing, not even the kisses of your long-time ex from your time made you feel this way.

That was when Raymond’s hands started roaming your body. One rested on your hip while the other quickly found its way to your right breast and closed over it rapidly. A stifled yelp escaped you. A rumbling chuckle filled his chest at the same time as his powerful thigh moved slightly upwards, pressing against that special place at the juncture of your thighs and stoking the liquid fire inside you. You fisted his tunic instinctively, unable to ignore the heat pooling between your legs.

“You are enjoying this as much as I am, wench,” he rasped into your skin while lips travelled across your shoulder and down your cleavage, his prickly beard burning a new trail on your skin. “I can feel it.”

“Raymond, I…” you spoke dazedly.

“Sir Raymond, wench,” he pressed harder against you, lifting your chin to meet his demanding gaze. “Understood?”

“Yes, Sir Raymond,” you took a deep breath, overwhelmed at the sensations this commanding man woke in you.

“That’s a good wench,” he leaned in, kissing you hard and this time you answered with a matching fervour, your tongues fighting for domination in a duel of lust. Your fingers ran through the short hair on the back of his head. Raymond hummed low and grinded his thigh against the most sensitive part of your body, kindling the flames of desire inside you even more. His hand found its way into your chemise, pulling it down with one swift move. You heard the sound of ripping fabric and a whiff of cool air danced on the skin of your suddenly exposed breasts, a wave of arousal washing over you at his bold move. He was so unlike the men you had known in the modern times. You couldn’t imagine a man tearing a modern bra off you like this. Life in the 13th century taught you to dress like women of that time in Ireland. A long chemise was enough – panties and bras were a thing of the future.

Raymond’s greedy gaze rested on your newly uncovered skin and you saw how his tongue licked his upper lip.

“What have we here…?” His mouth covered the pebbled tip of your breast while he rolled the other nipple between his gloved fingers, making you arch your neck and whimper. You wondered how many marks he would leave on your skin once he was done with you.

“Look at you, wench, so eager,” he murmured against your breast with a smirk. That was when you realised that you pressed yourself into his thigh at a slightly different angle, moving your hips to the rhythm of his ministrations.

“Kiss me,” you managed to reply, feeling the familiar feeling growing between your legs, but then his thigh disappeared. You whimpered in protest and lifted your eyes at him.

“Are you ordering your liege?” his scarred face made you think of a cursed demon straight from the deepest pits of hell, hints of anger darkening his eyes.

You shook your head and a wicked little smile danced on your lips, “I need you to kiss me, Sir Raymond. Please, my lord?” 

“That was better, wench. Do not forget yourself again,” not waiting for your reply, he pulled off his glove with his teeth and then gave you another rough, insatiable kiss, crushing your lips with his.

A large, hot hand found its way under your skirts. It moved against your skin almost all the way to your hip and then cupped your uncovered mound. His fingers brushed against your folds teasingly, back and forth, making you let out a moan. 

“Your quim is as wet as the sea, wench,” he grinned. “Do you know what it means?”

Panting, you said, holding on to his arm, “Will you tell me, Sir Raymond?”

His lips brushed against your earlobe when his raspy voice found its way to your very core, “I’m going to plough you senseless.”

The heat deep inside you ached at the Devil’s words as you bucked against his hand, making him chortle triumphantly. You turned your head to kiss him, but his hands covered your bottom and hoisted you to his height. With a giggle, you wrapped your arms around his neck and felt his groin against you as you wrapped your uncovered legs around him, your skirts bundled up around your waist. Raymond’s hand dove between you, its back brushing against your moist folds and soon you felt something very hot and hard pressing at your entrance.

“Are you going to… oh… plough me senseless now, Sir Raymond?” you met his steel eyes, your lips skimming against his lightly. 

“Only if you are a good little wench,” his gaze sharpened immediately and a smirk appeared on his face. Raymond pushed hard into you, filling you instantly to the brim, stretching you deliciously. You were barely able to adjust to his size. Were all the mediaeval knights so well-endowed?

“You… You’re so… huge,” you gasped, barely able to form a full sentence.

“And you will take every single inch of me,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off your face, and then plunged deep inside you with one long thrust until he was seated to the hilt. “All of it.”

You gave out a lengthy moan and heard a horse neighing. Biting on your lower lip, you suddenly recalled the soldiers waiting for their lord on the road. And then he thrusted again, making you repeat your moan.

“We can’t do this,” you whimpered, holding on to him. “Your men…”

He slammed into you before you could finish the sentence, making you cry out with pleasure even louder than before.

“My men will wait until I’m done with you, wench,” Raymond pressed his forehead against yours. You felt every single of his words deep inside you, as deep as his powerful hardness delved into you, throbbing against the velvet of your inner walls. Another movement of his hips. Another intense stroke. Another one of your moans. He was conquering you, body and soul, one thrust at a time. “But they will… please, oh, they will hear…” you muttered as the next thrust hoisted you higher against the barn wall, delivering a new wave of pleasure.

“Let them hear your moaning, wench,” he rammed into you harder, making you see stars under your closed eyelids. “Let them know how well you are serving their lord.”

He repeated his movements, slowly but forcefully,  a sweet, intense sensation forming in your lower belly. “Please, oh, Raymond…” you whimpered, bracing yourself for yet another hard thrust that would send you one step closer to ecstasy.

It didn’t come. Your eyelids fluttered open, meeting the Devil’s cold stare. He wasn’t moving.

“What did you say, wench?” the Devil growled, holding you trapped between his chest and the wall.

“Raymond…” you mumbled, recalling the rules of this dangerous game. “Forgive me, Sir Raymond, I forgot myself.” You clenched around his hardness, making him let out a groan. He felt large, almost too large for you, but at the same he fit perfectly inside you, a sensation you have never felt before with any other man. A lightest of shivers ran through your body, a herald of more intense pleasure to come. “I have told you not to forget yourself, have I not, wench?” he spat out the words while his fingers fondled your breast roughly, pinching your nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

“Please,” you whimpered, clenching around him again and trying to move your hips on your own. You ached for him to move inside you, you wanted this man badly, you craved for the rapture only he was capable of giving you. “I need more of you.”

“And yet you said we couldn’t do this,” he rolled his hips against you, grinding into your sensitive nub, making you whimper again. Then his gloved hand moved to your neck, caressing it slowly and then closing around it, but allowed you to breathe, thick leather bruising your delicate skin. When he spoke again, his voice seemed to be full of anger or some similar emotion as he spoke slowly. “You have disappointed me, wench.”

“Sir Raymond… Please, my lord… I am very close,” you pleaded. At that moment, you would have said anything, promised everything, just to make him thrust into your wanton heat again, trapped in the hell of your own lust and hunger for him.

“First you need to learn your lesson,” the Devil’s piercing gaze rested on you, making you shudder as you once again felt the roughness of his glove on your neck. “If you wish me to continue, you will do as your liege commands. Do you understand?” “I do, Sir Raymond,” you whispered.

“You will not come until I tell you to. I want to have my way with you first. Will you be a good little wench and obey me?”

“I will do as you say, Sir Raymond,” you heard yourself say and then his hand moved away from your neck, lifting one of your legs under your knee and resting it against his shoulder.

You felt much less in control in this position, much more open and vulnerable, and yet the thrill of what was to come made you ignore your doubts.

“That’s a good wench,” he growled and baring his teeth, he suddenly pounded into you, delving even deeper inside you than before, at a new angle. And then he repeated his motions, once, twice, thrice, more, until you lost the count. You were sure that your loud, frantic moans were heard by the soldiers, but you didn’t care at this point. With your back arched your hips meeting Raymond’s hardness with each stroke, you couldn’t think about anything else than him covering your body with his, claiming every single inch of your body with his bold, powerful thrusts.

“See now? Very good. This is how a good wench takes his liege,” Raymond grunted into the crook of your neck, his beard bristling against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You do it so well. I may get used to your tight little quim.”

Everything he did, his rough caresses, his thrusts, each of them faster and more intense than the one before, made you balance at the edge of pure ecstasy, clinging to him, begging him for release.

“Do not dare to come, wench,” the Devil ordered in a low growl. “I am not done with you yet.”

“So close…” you mumbled through your swollen lips, your body shivering in anticipation, on the verge of bliss. You were losing the last shreds of control over your own body. “Please, my lord, let me come…”

Raymond grabbed your arms that encircled his neck moments before and lifted them, pinning your wrists with ease against the wall above your head.

“I said no! Not until I allow you to, wench,” he warned you and thrust swiftly inside you, making the barn wall wobble dangerously.

He made you think of a relentless machine, of a powerful engine going continuously, without mercy, pummeling into you mercilessly. Your moans turned into helpless mewling, your hips bucked and your body began to tremble again while Raymond’s movements became erratic, every single of them bringing you closer to completion.

“Not yet, wench,” he rasped again, squeezing your tender bottom. Waves of pleasure washed over you with each of his thrusts and you did not know where he ended and you began any longer. 

Raymond rammed into you with a series of short, final thrusts that went straight to the core of your being, and as he groaned, you felt a wave of heat spill inside you. That was what sent you over the edge and the bliss consumed you whole with the intensity of a supernova. Darkness claimed you and you could only feel his strong arms around you and your raspy breaths intermingling.

An eternity passed when you came to. You lay in your bed but didn’t remember getting there at all. Raymond lay by your side, resting on his elbow and observing you closely like a hawk. He wore only his undershirt and trousers, his weapon and armour no longer shielding his strong body. It was dark outside and only a faint light of a candle made the room somewhat brighter.

“What happened?” you sighed, feeling the sweet soreness between your legs.

“I am beginning to believe that you may be a witch after all. But I found a way to break your spell,” the Devil smirked, the darkness of his beard accentuated by the white of his teeth.

“Have you, Sir Raymond? What is it?”

“Disciplining you, thoroughly,” the Devil offered, cold steel flames igniting in his gaze.

“Me?” you batted your eyelashes in mocked innocence.

“You were a very bad wench, were you not?” he smirked, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “You came without my leave. Now I will have to punish you for it.”

Without a pause, Raymond leaned over you and gave you a rough kiss that told you everything you wanted to know. You were definitely looking forward to the punishment administered by the Devil himself.

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[sorisooyaa]

@dumbassunderthemountain I 100% AGREE, especially since my teacher had no passion for it, at least that what it seemed like. She would just tell us to read it and learn of my heart, there was no background, nothing to make it interesting just written text with no meaning!

An Escape (Raymond de Merville x Reader)

Armitage Summer Splash Prompt: Picture above, Arranged marriage, “How can you possibly think that?”

Summary: Engaged to be married to a knight with a less than ideal reputation you go to your retreat outside the castle to come up with a plan

Historical Context: The city Bagnères-de-Luchon has been inhabited for more than 2000 years, located in the Pyrenees mountains in Southern France, during this time it would have been part of the Duchy of Aquitaine, and English control. known for its hot springs being used as a Knightly Hospital (pope controlled military group Knights Hospitaller of St. John of Jerusalem) opening around 1200 partially to control the mountain pass. There is a stone circle, Carnac Pyrénéen, from Neolithic times probably for burial mounds.  The Angevin empire is the english empire in 12-13th century

Warnings: arranged marriage, father issues, physical assault

Word Count: 1103

Deep in the Pyrenees mountains away from the hustle and bustle of Bagnères-de-Luchon you rode as fast as possible, winding through the trees and hills. Usually when you needed space to think you rode to the strange circle of stones finding comfort in their mystery, but not today. Today you needed someplace far away without a single reminder of people. So you rode through the mountainous terrain until finally reaching your destination. 

Keep reading

[fizzyxcustard]

Heaven and Hell

Fandom: Pilgrimage (2017)

Pairings: Raymond de Merville x Fem!Reader, Fem!Reader x Original male character

Word count: 2888

Warnings: Language, angst, arranged marriage, sexual references, slight religious/spiritual symbols and references.

Summary: From the imagine “Raymond has lost all hope of love and completely shut his heart down after losing everyone he has ever loved. Until he meets you.” 

Comments: Requested by @linasofia and @sazzlep Thank you to @glassgulls for reading over this for me and giving me your opinions on pacing and how to end the fic. 

As always, if you wish to be added to my tag lists, please let me know.

It had been four months now since Raymond had returned home. Every night and he saw that dreaded beach, and could feel the Mute biting into his flesh, ripping skin from his neck. The smell and taste of blood would still linger around Raymond as he sat bolt upright in bed, sweat pouring down him. When would the dreams stop? Unconsciously, every time Raymond had the dream and he would run his fingertips over the scar, feeling it tingle. 

Raymond trained his men, barking demands at them in the field. Then he would drink in his study, trying to drown out the memories. Hellfire burned in his mind, making him re-live the scene of every murder he had committed. It was the same endless cycle, day in and day out. Somewhere inside him, Raymond hoped for another war, just to break out of the monotony of what his life had become. Even his sexual appetite seemed to have disappeared, abandoning him to a never-ending world of darkness and repetition. 

***

You smiled as you walked swiftly to the training field to meet Henri, your fiancée. In your hands was a basket, filled with cheese, bread and an assortment of locally picked fruits, such as apples and grapes. 

The day was bright, with the midday sun leaving a soft warmth in the air. It was now late spring, almost summer. Your favourite time of year when all the plants were at their brightest, baby animals began to venture from their nests, and days grew longer. 

You were taking a short break from your sewing so that you could come and spend time with Henri. He was the same age as you, and the two of you had known each other since you were children. Truth be told, you loved Henri, but it was your family who had pushed for your matrimonial union. Otherwise you would have been just as happy remaining friends with him. After all, you knew deep down that his heart would never truly belong to you, but to a woman named Lucille. 

Raymond de Merville, the Baron’s son, was giving out demands to his soldiers, pacing in a line before them. You waited patiently at the door to the main armoury, watching in fascination as the soldiers sparred. 

Suddenly you noticed Raymond’s eyes study you. “What is that woman doing here?” he snapped. 

The men all looked at you, and in those moments you felt a huge blush hit your cheeks. 

“She is my fiancée,” Henri announced. He then requested to temporarily leave the training session to see you. Raymond rolled his eyes and reluctantly agreed. 

You smiled at Henri. “I was hoping we could spend lunchtime together. I made some food for us, to enjoy while the weather is good.” 

Raymond couldn’t help but keep his attention locked on you and Henri for a few seconds, and he listened to your sweet voice offer such kindness. He had had a fiancée once, but lost her to another man. The thought of her made him snarl and he felt a pang of disgust hit him, and he pushed it all away. 

It wasn’t long before Raymond stood his men down for their lunches, allowing Henri to sit with you. The two of you spoke about your upcoming wedding, and you couldn’t help but notice the way Henri hung his blonde head. The smiles curled his lips upward, but there was no spark in his eyes. And by the time that Henri had had his fill of food, he excused himself away. 

You watched him walk away towards the long path which led up to the barns. He was heading to see Lucille. Of course that was where he was going. 

With a sigh, you pulled together all the foods and put them back in your basket. 

In the corner of your eye and you could see Raymond watching you. He was sat alone, whilst the rest of the twenty or so men all sat in pairs or groups. All of them were eating, accept for Raymond. 

You walked toward Raymond, feeling your heart begin to race. His icy eyes were always intense, scaring you. “I have some food left if you would like some, Sir Raymond,” you said softly. “Please take what you’d like.” You placed the basket down. His eyes grazed over the basket and then lifted to focus on you. 

“You do know that Henri has his sights set elsewhere?” Raymond asked coldly. “Some woman up in the barn.” 

A lump rose in your throat. Despite you not being in love with Henri, you still wished that he would at least attempt to play the part of your fiancée, and not make his lack of interest in you so obvious. 

Raymond watched your expression as your gaze flitted back and forth, not quite sure where to rest. Your lips quivered. That feeling of being second best – he knew it all so well. 

“I know not to bother making him lunch again,” you said, finally being able to speak. “I may as well make it for you as I assume you would be more grateful for the effort.” 

“And the company,” Raymond replied. 

Those words made a tingle race up your spine. His voice was deep, and as it hit your ears, it was like pure velvet wrapping around you. You looked at him, allowing yourself to study him properly. Raymond was a handsome man, easily being in the middle of his fourth decade. He had a long, sharp nose, thin lips, and a steadily growing beard. He certainly looked and acted more experienced than Henri. 

***

The next day, and the next, and the next, you prepared food, but instead of giving it to Henri, you chose to sit with Raymond. You waited until Henri had disappeared for his rendezvous with Lucille, and sat with Raymond. None of the other men ever spoke to him outside of training, you noticed. But each lunch time, he gave you a smile as you offered him food. 

On the fourth day, you asked Raymond why he never brought food. 

“I am not always hungry, or in the mood to eat,” he replied. 

You couldn’t help but look at the large scar on his neck, which he had sustained when away in battle months earlier. Stories of Raymond’s ordeal had circulated around the village, but no one seemed to know the exact details. 

He noticed you studying his scar and smirked. He liked it when you studied him as he had observed over the last four days since meeting you that you tended to look away from him most of the time. Raymond could not deny that he found you attractive, and that longing to bed a woman was starting to rise. But you were betrothed to another, albeit a man who did not truly want you. Raymond at least honoured that. 

“You must eat, Raymond, to keep up your strength. I’m glad that I ventured down here now, even if my husband-to-be would rather be with another woman, I know that you are eating something, at least,” you said sadly. 

“Why are you marrying him?” Raymond asked bluntly. 

“Our families have been friends for years, and so have I and Henri. Our fathers arranged the marriage, wanting us to wed. And it seemed like a good fit; I do love Henri.” 

Raymond noticed you look at the grass beneath yourself as you said the words ‘I do love Henri’. 

“I’ve always supported him in anything that he has wanted to do.” 

“Is he there for you in return?” 

The question hit you hard in the chest. You knew the answer but could not bring yourself to vocalise it. Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed, looking away in embarrassment. “I should return to my mother now. I’m sorry to keep you, Raymond.” 

“You are not keeping me.” He then said your name softly. 

You looked at him and his gaze bore through you, as if he were undressing each and every part of your whole being. A shiver raced down your spine and butterflies flapped in your stomach. How could this man beckon such a huge tidal wave of arousal within you? 

Raymond’s lips parted, but he held the words back. 

“Goodbye, Sir Raymond,” you said softly, and turned to leave. 

Raymond watched you walk away, following the path back up toward the main village. However could Henri ignore your kindness? Your sincerity. Your innocence. Whenever Raymond was with you and he felt that child side of himself rise. The memory of all the hellfire disappeared, leaving a shaft of heavenly light, with you at the centre. 

***

You did not come to see Raymond the next day, and so he felt nothing but disappointment in his heart. At lunchtime, he grit his teeth as he watched Henri take the walk towards the barns. To have a woman be devoted to him, even though she was not in love, and still tried to make a worthy wife. Raymond could only imagine what you would be like with a man you actually loved. 

The next day and you were missing again. What had happened to make you disappear? Raymond craved your company. Even though your meetings only lasted less than an hour, he had grown to finally appreciate company again. His mind would keep going off on tangents, searching for you. 

Raymond trusted Auben, his second in command, and asked him to speak with you. To go to your home and ask for your presence at dinner, with him, at the de Merville chateau. 

Dinner time came, and finally Raymond heard a knock on the door of the main dining hall. The head cook announced your arrival. 

You stepped into the hall, looking around at the stag head on the wall which was mounted above a huge fireplace. In front of the fireplace was Raymond, who got to his feet in order to greet you. “I’m glad you came,” he said. “I wished to show my gratitude for your company the last four days.” He looked at you, clothed in an emerald dress which seemed to bring out that beautiful sparkle in your eyes.

“You didn’t have to do such a thing, Sir Raymond,” you told him, taking a seat just down the table from him on his left hand side. “I’ve enjoyed our time together and wanted to make sure you were eating.” 

“Why did you stop coming?” Raymond asked. Sometimes his questioning was blunt and to the point, catching you off guard. 

You sighed, looking down again. “I…I know my place with Henri. His heart belongs to Lucille, and I will only be his wife in name only. But I still want to honour him as my fiancée. Going to see you was becoming inappropriate, even though I have been concerned for you.” 

“Then why did you come tonight?” 

“I don’t know,” you whispered. 

Raymond got to his feet and walked to your chair, looking down at you.

Your heart was thundering in your chest, beating so loud that you were terrified that he could hear it. 

“I know why you came. Despite wanting to honour Henri, you still hope for something true. You want a man to love you, treasure you, put you at the centre of everything in his life.” 

Tears fell down your cheeks at the sound of Raymond laying everything down before you. Of course that was what you wanted. You had wanted it since you were a little girl who was old enough to understand the ways of the world. 

“Such a stupid thing to dream,” you sobbed. 

Raymond whispered your name. “In a world of hell, you have become my heaven.” 

“We barely know each other, Sir Raymond,” you told him, feeling that all too familiar stir lower down your body. No man had ever made you feel so aroused. In fact, you had kept your maidenhood preserved, as was expected. “I really do not feel this is appropriate at all.” 

You shifted away from him and got to your feet, again averting your gaze from him. 

Raymond growled. “Henri is a fucking fool.” 

“You have known me for no more than four days. Our conversation has been brief, so you surely cannot say that you feel something for me? Unless it is company warming your bed that you require.” 

A smirk grew on Raymond’s face. He had seen the fire inside you rise on a few occasions when speaking with you. There was a flame in your eyes, and in your words. That flame would make sure that no one took advantage of you, either physically or of your virtuous nature. 

“Do you think Henri cares that you are here?!” Raymond roared. “When each day that you have visited me, he has been off fucking her in the barn. The man has no honour.”

“And you do?” 

“You may not think highly of me, but I will not allow you to remain in their shadow. For all the kindness and honour you show toward him, you could be showing that to another man who would walk through hellfire for you, and make sure you remain as pure as an angel heaven sent.” 

“Raymond…” you whispered. You looked at him, seeing a sadness rise in his icy blue depths. It was a sadness you had not seen before. The very sight of him being so open made you step forward and then reach out, cupping his cheek. “I am not worth anything to anyone.” 

“You are to me. What little heart I have been given has always found its way to those who have broken it. I want you to have it, and I will be that man you have always wanted.” 

“You needn’t be anything more than the man you already are,” you told him. 

Raymond rushed at you and kissed you hard. It felt as if you were melting away, merging with him. His tongue was hot and demanding in your mouth, needing and wanting. 

Heat flared in his gut and down in his breeches, rising so high that he was sure his self-control would snap. Your body was pure perfection beneath his calloused hands, and he wanted to get at it all. 

“We cannot, Raymond,” you whispered sadly, pulling away. You kissed his brow softly, and then peppered his face with pecks of love. “The arrangement has been finalised. I marry Henri next month.” 

“Henri can marry his woman, and I shall marry you.” 

“Please…Find someone else more worthy than me. I am destined to be Henri’s wife, even if not the one who has his heart. I cannot change that.” 

Raymond was still holding you tight. “I was to be married, and I loved her. But she left me for another. Our wedding was arranged, but she left me, days before we were to meet at the altar.” 

“Then please, do not let this go any further. I will not be the reason for you having a broken heart again. Let me go.” 

“I know you feel something for me. Why else would you have come tonight? I am sure that you and Henri have never shared a kiss like that.” 

“That is the first time I have ever kissed a man.” 

Raymond couldn’t help himself and kissed your cheek, then moved down to your neck. 

You felt electricity surge through you and you clung to him so tight. The waves of pleasure and the gathering tempo at the juncture of your thighs made you groan.

“Let me in, my love, and we can experience heaven together,” he whispered. 

You put your hand to his cheek. “Please don’t hate me. I can’t dishonour Henri and my family. Try and understand.” 

Raymond bowed his head, feeling the mixture of anger and sadness rise. It caused a ball of pain to form in his throat and he pulled away, remaining silent as he turned his back to you. 

You felt nothing but guilt for causing him such pain. True, you had barely had time to know each other, but something was pulling the two of you in closer, an unseen force that knew you were destined to be entwined. 

Without another word, you slipped out of the hall and exited the chateau. It was dusk now, with only a thin strip of golden light hanging on the horizon. You sighed and then took in a deep breath, ready to head home. 

A chill was beginning to set in now and it refreshed you, cooling off the humidity of the day. Thoughts of Raymond would not leave you, as they had not done now since the first meeting you had with him. The man had burrowed himself into your soul, and you knew that any resistance to him was going to be incredibly difficult. 

Once home and you undressed into your night slip, having lied to your mother and father, telling them you had spent the evening with Henri. 

When your head hit the pillow, you gazed out of your window, watching the stars twinkle high above. Maybe in another life you and Raymond could have meant to be together. For this one, you would have to make do with your family’s arrangements and with being second best. 

(To be continued)

***

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[linasofia]

Le Désir

Part 3

Fandom: Pilgrimage

Relationship: Raymond de Merville x OC Cecilia

Summary: Raymond is travelling along the coast of Ireland when a storm forces him and his men to seek shelter at a remote inn. When he spots the innkeeper’s daughter, he realizes the stay has potential to be more exciting than he first thought.

Warnings: 18+

A/N: This is the final part of this fic. You can read the previous parts here.

She was warm—a lot warmer than usual—and when she tried to move in her bed, she scratched her elbow against the rough wall. There was not enough room to rotate, and her hazy mind started to slowly put things together. The warmth under the thick blanket was not only hers; she was not alone. Cecilia woke with a gasp, and a few heartbeats passed before she remembered where she was. When her eyes adjusted to the light, she noticed the large candle in Lord Raymond’s room was put out. She had no memory of seeing the knight—who snored peacefully beside her—blowing on the flickering flame. It could only mean she fell asleep before he did. Had he watched her sleep? The thought made her uneasy.

She made a new attempt to move, and this time she managed to roll to the side without getting trapped in the sheet. Lord Raymond let out a groaning sound and stirred in his sleep. Cecilia froze. He reminded her of a wild animal—a predator even—and she did not want to wake him. She was not ready to deal with his piercing gaze yet. Lord Raymond exhaled loudly and relaxed the fine muscles on his face. The traces of dirt were gone, and considering how clean he smelled when he first lowered himself over her, she assumed he visited the inn’s massive wooden tubs to refresh sometime during the previous day. Long, dark lashes framed his eyes, and even if she could not see his irises, she had no trouble remembering their unusual blue shade. Cecilia found it difficult to guess how old the knight was. His hair was dark—both on his head and chest—and his beard thick. It was still completely unaffected by age. He had the physique of a warrior at the peak of his life, but the lord was not a young, inexperienced man. Time had carved small valleys around his eyes, and when he smiled at her the previous night, they appeared deeper. She liked his smile, for it brightened his features just as the sun chased away shadows during the morning’s earliest hour. The deep scar on his face looked old, and once again, Cecilia wondered how he got it. It must, no doubt, have hurt enormously. Even if she was certain he had done far worse to many opponents, she felt a hint of pity for him. Suddenly she wanted to trace the rough line of the scar with her fingertip but she quickly pushed the idea away. Lord Raymond touched every inch of her body the night before, and she caressed a good part of him in return, but a touch like that felt too intimate. She smiled when she thought about how he admired her curves after peeling off her stockings. It was hard to believe the same gentle fingers later wrapped her braid tightly around one of his hands and firmly forced her to arch her back as he took her from behind. He seemed to have endless stamina, and as the night fell over the green hills, Cecilia was pulled into his world of desire, lust, and satisfaction. It was not strange, Cecilia thought, that she had fallen asleep in his bed. The last memory of the night was how Lord Raymond came to rest beside her and pulled her close so her back rested against his chest. His burning hot sword left traces of his silvery stream on her skin as he pressed himself against her.

Soft light seeped into the room, and Cecilia prayed it was early so nobody would realize she did not sleep in her own bed. She knew she was expected to feed the animals and then return to the main hall as soon as possible, but leaving the bed was not easy. Inch by inch, she slowly moved away from the warm body resting next to her. As quietly as she could, she then stood from the bed and collected her clothes. She had no options except to dress in the middle of the room, so she began the process while keeping an anxious eye on the soundly sleeping knight. When she was finally done tying the lacing in her dress, she proceeded to make her hair presentable. Her braid was completely destroyed after a night in the lord’s bed, and when she ran her fingers through her locks, it felt unmanageable. Cecilia let out a frustrated sigh as she tried to comb it with her fingers, and when she finally succeeded in arranging her thick copper hair into a new braid, she hoped it looked decent enough. Then she quickly walked over to the door, took a final look at the alluring man in the bed—and turned the key in the door’s lock.

A clear blue sky met Cecilia when she stepped outside. With a surprised smile, she blinked a few times to let her eyes adjust to the brightness. It felt as if the storm was a bad memory, soon to be forgotten, and only the broken branches on the ground gave witness to the incredible forces nature released over the eastern coast of Ireland. The small birds with orange chests had returned to the old apple tree, and Cecilia could hear their distressed alarm calls as she walked by on her way to the stable.

Raymond woke from a deep, satisfying sleep and found the spot next to him empty. He sighed heavily. When he fell asleep the previous night, Raymond was certain he would start the following day buried between Cecilia’s lovely thighs. If she slept with her back against him, he would have gently lifted her leg and teased her most sensitive parts before slipping through her wet folds. But if she, for some heavenly reason, slept on her stomach—Raymond grinned at the thought—he would not have bothered with the teasing. He wanted to silence her again and listen to her muffled plea as he selfishly took her one last time. Just the thought of it made the blood boil in his groins. Absently, he stroked himself and groaned as he summoned the memory of her aroused smell and the feeling of her slickness around him. With another groan he grabbed the pillow next to him and buried his nose in it. The sweet, feminine scent that made him feral last night still lingered on the fabric. Raymond inhaled deeply and felt a rush of arousal flooding his body. One thing was certain; he needed relief before he could eat his morning meal.

The horses welcomed Cecilia with curious eyes. The stable smelled of horses and straw, and as she handed out piles of hay, she could not resist thinking of the fascinating man she left while he was still sleeping. She made it from Lord Raymond’s room undiscovered, and so far, her secret was intact. A part of her longed to be back with him to be able to feel the warmth from his body and bask in his heated gaze. His embraces were overwhelming—but she liked the way he handled her—and his superior strength was both intimidating and arousing.

When all horses were fed, Cecilia stopped at Éclair’s side. The mare looked at her, then sniffed expectantly on her stretched-out hand. Cecilia smiled, pulled out the apple she was hiding in her pocket, and offered it. The horse took it gently from her hand, but then the apple was gone in the blink of an eye. Only a few loud chewing sounds were heard before Éclair swallowed the pieces. Then she inspected both of Cecilia’s hands one more time with an expectant expression in her dark eyes. When the mare realized Cecilia did not have any more treats, she turned her interest back to the hay again. Éclair had the clear contour of a saddle on her back. Dried sweat made her silky coat coarse, and Cecilia decided to go over it with the bristle brush she used on their gelding. As soon as she started brushing, the horse came to rest one of her hind legs by tilting onto the toe of the hoof. She let out a long, pleased sigh in a clear sign that she liked being cared for. Cecilia took the time with her, and when she finally was done, she patted the mare’s neck. Éclair was a sweetheart, and Cecilia had a hard time imagining the beautiful buckskin during battle.

”I thought I would find you here.” The dark voice behind her made Cecilia jump. How in heaven’s name did he get inside without her noticing? Éclair lifted her head and looked at her master as if he was truly interrupting an enjoyable moment. Hay hung from her mouth, and she kept chewing as he approached them.

Cecilia gave him a shy smile. ”Where else would I be, My Lord? The horses need their morning hay. It is my responsibility.”

”I would have prefered if you were still in my bed,” he responded with a dark smile, making Cecilia blush like the sky on a warm autumn evening.

”I thought I stayed too long, My Lord.” Her voice sounded a bit unsteady, and she bit her lip.

”Not long enough,” he groaned as he stopped by her side and placed his large hand on the horse’s back. Cecilia took a step back, unsure what to do. Lord Raymond ran his hand slowly over the now soft coat, and Cecilia could not help glancing at his fingers—the same fingers which he used to give her great pleasure the previous night. Then he turned to Cecilia.

”I promised you a reward if you took extra good care of Éclair. I can clearly see that you kept your word.” He reached for the pouch in his belt and opened it. What happened next filled Cecilia’s mouth with an unwelcome, sour taste. Lord Raymond placed two silver coins in her hand. She stared at them—it was too much. ”For your excellent service,” he said with a tone she was uncertain how to interpret. It was a possibility, of course, that he really meant the extra attention she gave his horse. But Cecilia felt dirty, just like one of those women she had heard stories about. The unfortunate ones who earned their money by taking a countless number of men to their beds. She knew it was bad enough that she had followed him to his room, but to accept payment for it—that was something completely different. Yet she knew how much her family needed the money, so Cecilia slowly closed her fingers around the coins. They burned in her hand, just as the shame on her cheeks.

”Thank you, Sire,” she mumbled as she backed away from him. “Please, excuse me, I have to go.”

For the second time in two days, she left the stable in a hurry, but this time tears stung in her eyes. The sun blinded her as she slammed the door unnecessarily hard, and she almost expected Lord Raymond to come after her. But he did not. Instead, she reached the main building undiscovered and fled to her room. She needed to be left alone, if only to pull herself together. With a tortured whine, Cecilia collapsed on her bed. She wrapped the blanket around her and buried her face in the pillow. Then she screamed as loud as her lungs allowed her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and while she pressed the pillow harder to her face, her tears wettened the soft fabric of the pillowcase. Cecilia blamed herself and her weakness for the pain in her chest. She should have known better than to listen to her body’s deepest desire. If one played with fire long enough, it was unavoidable to get burned.

Eventually, Cecilia ran out of tears, and when only quiet sobs caused her lips to tremble, she tried to collect her thoughts. Deep inside, it was not the acts of the previous night she regretted—it was the way she had reacted after Lord Raymond gave her the silver coins. She had accepted them, knowing the sum was too high for the grooming of his horse. She had accepted payment for her body. Suddenly she recalled him saying that he would not pay for her delightful company, and it made her feel even more stupid. Of course, he could say that when he handled his transfers of money so smoothly. Her skin still smelled of him, and she cursed the heated memories it awoke. Cecilia lay on the side and pulled her knees up so she could hug them. She felt lonely and exhausted. Every part of her body ached—a reminder of the rough treatment she received the night before. She lost count of how many times she saw the white light that caused her body to explode in a storm of pleasure. During the late hours, she learned that Lord Raymond possessed impressive control over his lower body.

A quiet knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. ”Cecilia, are you in here?” Her youngest sister’s clear voice easily penetrated the thick door. It made Cecilia question how long she had stayed in her room.

”Yes,” Cecilia answered and coughed as she tried to clear her voice.

”May I come in?”

Cecilia sighed. She wanted to be alone, but she could not say that without waking the worry in Alice’s compassionate heart.

”You may,” she replied and pulled the blanket over her head. The door made a familiar squeaking sound as Alice pulled it open. Then followed her sister’s light footsteps as she walked over the wooden planks. Finally, she felt how Alice sat down and took her hand.

”Are you not feeling well?” The warm concern in her youngest sister’s voice made Cecilia’s throat tighten as if someone had put a rope around her neck. Or a hand.

”Not really, no.”

”Have you eaten? Can I get you anything?” The blanket was gently pulled from her face. ”I can tell father that you—,” Alice went silent. With a deep sigh, Cecilia met Alice's worried gaze. She knew her eyes were swollen, and there was no point in denying she had been crying. But she was not ready to share the reason behind her tears. At least not yet.

”What is wrong?” The soft words were enough to make Cecilia flinch under the weight of her self-loathing.

”It is nothing really, I am just being stupid and emotional. I already feel better.” The last part was a lie, but Cecilia tried to avoid questions. An approaching headache, as a result of her tears, started to spread at her temples.

”Is it that time of the month?” Alice suggested with a kind smile. All three sisters suffered from mood changes once a month, and they had formed a mutual understanding between them. They all knew the sacrifice their bodies had to endure.

”Yes,” Cecilia lied again. A sigh of relief left her when Alice squeezed her hand. They were necessary lies, and if it could prevent further questions from her sister, Cecilia would do it again. Alice did not continue, and it made Cecilia relax her shoulders. Neither of them spoke, and Alice stroked the upper side of her older sister’s hand.

”The cruel-looking knight and all his men are gone,” Alice suddenly said. Something in her tone caught Cecilia’s attention. ”I think it is a relief. Father made good money—I’m sure he did—but I did not like having them here. I do not trust them.”

Cecilia nodded quietly. So Lord Raymond was gone. She did not have to face him anymore, yet she was not sure how she felt about that. Alice looked at her with an uneasy expression in her eyes. Her sister seemed to hesitate as if she wanted to speak of something but was uncertain of how. A dark shadow fell over Alice’s sweet face, and it cut like a knife in Cecilia’s heart. She could sense something was wrong. Suddenly she became afraid Lord Raymond laid a hand on Alice, and it made her feel nauseous. If he did, it was her fault. She should have stayed in the stable with him and allowed him to satisfy his hunger. Her youngest sister was, as far as Cecilia knew, still untouched, but what if—

“The knight approached me when they were finished with their meal. First I was scared, thinking I did something to upset him. But he wanted to leave a message—for you. He made me promise to say this when we were alone. He wants you to know that he will take the same route again when he gets the opportunity. And he requests the same stable hand. What does he mean, Cecilia?”

Cecilia felt how the blood left her face. She knew exactly what kind of message Lord Raymond meant to send. He intended to come back—only God knows when. Cecilia deliberately bit the inside of her cheek to avoid revealing the conflicting emotions rushing through her body. She was certain Lord Raymond wanted to make his intentions known because he was convinced he had gained control over her. That she would gladly accompany him in his bed and welcome his feral behavior. Her heart raced at the thought of being trapped beneath him once more, and his scent seemed to grow stronger in her nose as if it wanted to make sure she had not already forgotten him. But he was right, she admitted, as the memories of his exploring hands made her body ache. She would gladly give herself to him again. That cruel-looking bastard was right.

💙 If you like my writing, please consider spreading the love and reblogging.💙

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knittastically @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy @s0ftd3m0n @emrfangirl @glimmering-darling-dolly @lilith15000 @clumsy-wonderland @theawkwardbutterfly @exhausted-humxn-being @beenthroughalot @chaikittie @piscesvancouverite @sotwk @dontaskmehowdontaskmewhy @mrsdurin

[shiinata-library]

My masterlist ✨✍️

[ THE HOBBIT • PILGRIMAGE • SHERLOCK BBC • STAY CLOSE ]

English isn't my first language

The Hobbit masterlists

Bilbo

Kíli

Thorin

Fíli

Imagines...

Multiple characters

Aghäte, the decision is yours [113k words] Thorin, Fíli, Kíli or Bilbo x fem!OC | Different paths/ends | Only on AO3

Just the three of us ⋅ On the royal desk [1k words] x Bilbo x fem!reader x Thorin | Smut, PWP

Just the three of us ⋅ Bilbo's birthday [2k words] x Bilbo x fem!reader x Thorin | Smut, PWP

Just the three of us ⋅ How it began [1k words] x Bilbo x fem!reader x Thorin | Smut, PWP

Raymond de Merville Pilgrimage (2017)

Waking up in the Middle Ages [63k words] x fem!OC | Angst, fluff, eventual smut

Headcanon about Raymond de Merville being in love

John Watson Sherlock BBC

Not on the first date [3k words] x fem!reader | fluff

Ray Levine Stay close

Photography lessons [6k words] x fem!reader | angst, insecurity, fluff

📚 👉 My personal library with my favourite stories/fics: just here 

[sorisooyaa]

Time Travel - June 23rd

Pairing: Raymond De Merville x Fem!Reader (?) and Father!Raymond and Daughter!OFC

Movie: The Pilgrimage (2017)

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @lathalea​

A/N: First, I wanted to say, I did something a little different with this moodboard, Idk how I feel about it, notice the background of it? What do you guys think? Second, ok, look I know there are very rare cases were Indians do have blue or green eyes like for example Aishwarya Rai but for the sake if this little story can we pretend Indians just have the usual brown or black eyes please? Or if didn’t know the fact Indian did indeed have blue eyes (etc.) pretend I didn’t just tell you lol!

There was a lake at the back an old cottage that belonged to my family. My mother forbid me from ever seeking it out, telling me it was dangerous.

But curiosity had gotten the better of me and one night, I did… I seeked it out while my mother slept.

I bend down to the lake, but when I reached out with my hand to touch the surface of still water, another hand just like mine seems to come out of the water and pull me in.

And when I break out of the water, I was instantly gazing into the exact reflection of my own eyes…

I had always wondered from where I had received such starkingly different features from, as the rest came from mother; from my Indian heritage.

Now I knew…

Then, as a sudden lightness hit me, heaving my head, a lost memory found me and voices echoed inside my head.

"Do you regret being with me?"

The voice that answered was one I was all too familiar with… for it belonged to the woman I called mother.

"Yes…"

[watarigarasu]

Salvation

Prompt List

Pairing: Raymond de Merville x Reader

Word count: 1,076

Warnings: Death, blood, violence

Author’s note: I love vampires so obviously I had to choose this option. :)

“You’re staring like you’ve never seen a vampire before.”

➞ Requested by: @aspookybunny​

Death left the bitter taste at the back of your tongue and the heavy sensation in your throbbing head. Once you believed that it would be painless, simple as falling asleep after a long day, but the reality surprised you in a way you would never expect it to. There was no floating, no bliss, no memories in front of your eyes—instead, you found the bloodcurdling fear in your veins and suffering in your mind. Perhaps death could be peaceful but contrary to that, life never was and this single thought proved you that you were, indeed, still alive.

You could barely feel your body, limbs still numb and muscles stiff after too much exhaustion. You were trapped inside of your own brain and although your thoughts were becoming clear as a day, you could not open your eyes yet, as if the flesh was a completely separate part of your entity, the one you had no control of. There was so many sounds caught in your ears, many of them unrecognizable and reaching you from afar—the dreadful melody played from behind the milky glass. You did not regret that in the slightest, now perfectly aware of your surrounding even though you could not see it, the sight being too much for you to comprehend.

Just like the reason for this battle and slaughter of thousands of lives remained a mystery. In the name of glory; for God, for country, for themselves, it was all but an empty words, you realized while laying on the muddy ground with the taste of earth and blood in your mouth. Surely, there was a sky above, the endless blue and distant stars but in that moment it mattered no more than a single stone thrown onto the field of grass to soon be forgotten by people, world and the time itself.

You felt no different.

With a heavy heart, you understood that you must have gotten hurt during the battle, most likely hit in the head which caused the lost of consciousness—and possibly saved your life. You were already so tired when the sun was high up, the sword in your hand apparently gaining weight with every next move of your arm, the ground under your feet too wet to keep the balance and all your honour left behind when you were desperately fighting for your life. None of the great promises mattered once you looked death in the eyes.

Awakening has left you dizzy and puzzled, and when you could finally open your eyes, slowly sit up and take off the helmet, you noticed the red sun hidden behind the horizon already. The sunset was breathtaking that day, an image worth immortalizing on the canvas and ironically you wished to forget it completely and erase from your memory forever. It reminded you of a countless bodies laying all around you, armours scattered, blood spilled and heart broken.

The ones who managed to live must have gone long ago, taking the weapons which could be useful again and leaving the rest behind, for you could not spot any moving figure in your eyesight. None, except for one person, the man wandering slowly between the corpses. Considering the distance, it was hard to tell which side was he on, nevertheless you decided to stand on your legs, wondering where would this odd encounter lead you.

The embrace of death did not sound so bad, after all, and for a while you found yourself longing to see the enemy’s colours on him.

He approached you lazily and as the twilight began to swallow the field, you were surprised to see the blood staining his face in an unusual manner. Dried crimson dirtied his lips and chin, rested in the stubble and reached the collar of his torn shirt, hidden under the steel plate of armour. His eyes, however, remained unusually bright, shining even with the dark passion you could not understand.

“You are alive,” the stranger stated the obvious.

There was something grotesque about him, something you could not call. Could it be the aura of raw power surrounding him or the sheer confidence radiating from every inch of his body, whatever it was, it made you stand your ground firmly, unable to move. If you wanted to fight him, it was now too late for he seemed to hold you tightly in his grasp already.

“You are staring like you have never seen a vampire before.”

Despite the humorous sentence, there was no hint of amusement in his expression—on the contrary, he remained stoic and suddenly you felt yourself growing smaller under his gaze. There was only you and him and the thousands of dead people around.

It made sense, when you thought about it then, the vampire wandering through the fields of misery like a forgotten ghost, feeding on those who managed to survive the battle and draining them of blood completely, robbing them of the last ounces of pride. You were to follow them soon.

The vampire reached to you so quickly that your eye could not catch the movement, and only the harsh feeling of the leather glove closing around your throat, threatening to squeeze, triggered your fear and primal instinct to defend your life.

“You are the last one,” he murmured, closing the distance, so you could see the tips of his sharp fangs showing when he spoke. “And a woman. How peculiar…”

Your sword was still laying in the mud, out of your reach.

“I could be merciful and make your end painless,” he continued, his voice low and hoarse and the hold on your throat no less strong. “I could even spare you or make you become one of my kind. Devoted servant bound to me for all the eternity.”

As if his own words were somehow ecstatic, the vampire leaned to you, brushing his bloodied cheek over yours and barely tasting the drop of blood from your temple before humming with approval.

“It does sound quite tempting, I have to admit, however…” His whisper ghosted over your ear, the thumb finding your larynx and circulating it. “I suppose I would rather devour you whole.”

Apparently, you were right from the very beginning—death truly did left a bitter taste at the back of your tongue, when you choked on your own, warm blood, your throat torn with the pair of sharp fangs and the scream dying on your lips.

If you enjoyed this story I’d greatly appreciate it if you supported me by commenting or reblogging it. Thank you!

[middleearthpixie]

Pizza

Armitage Summer Splash Prompt #23 ~ thanks, as always to @lathalea and @fizzyxcustard for the challenge!

Trope: Time travel 

Quote: “Do you regret being with me?”

RA Character: Raymond de Merville

Relationship: Raymond de Merville x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None. All. Fluff.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,752

Prompt #23 ~ Pizza

***

You never thought you’d have a sword in your bedroom. Or chainmail. Or any other sort of armor. But, there they were—the sword was propped by the dresser, the chainmail dumped in the chair (please don’t let it leave marks on the upholstery, as you’d asked Raymond a thousand times to not leave it there. Maybe someday he’d listen), the armor? Well, that was scattered throughout your apartment now. It was tough to explain to your parents when they came over for dinner and to meet the man you lived with why there was a shield over by the television set, leaning against the entertainment center. You told them Raymond was a RenFaire actor and so far, so good. They believed you. 

If you told them the truth, they’d think you’d lost your fool mind. And you really couldn’t blame them. How did you explain to rational people that a knight from the thirteenth century found his way into the twenty-first century? You had a hard enough time convincing Raymond of his journey through time but convincing your parents? Never going to happen. They would never get it. And again, who could blame them?

 You weren’t sure yourself how it happened. All you knew was you were at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, looking at the special display of thirteenth century armor on loan for the summer from the Louvre when the city was hit with a blackout. It lasted only minutes, but when the lights came on, the knight you’d been studying so intently?

He blinked. 

And scared the living shit out of you. 

He’d stepped down from the low pedestal, sword drawn, glaring at you as he asked you something in French. You spoke almost no French at the time, but stared down at the point of the sword only inches from your throat and replied with the only phrase you could ever remember from seventh grade French class:

“Puis-je alle à la salle de bain, si’l vous plait?”

Can I go to the bathroom, please? You’d have facepalmed if you weren’t so scared. 

His eyes went narrow as he said, “Quoi?”

Thankfully, he spoke some English, and things didn't go downhill from there. Just the opposite really. He was truly a lost soul and once you got over being terrified of him, you felt overwhelming sympathy for him and so offered him a place to stay. It was supposed to be temporary, until you figured out a way to send him back to his time. 

Unfortunately, neither one of you could figure out just how to do that, and so you both accepted the reality. He wasn't going anywhere. At first, you weren’t exactly sure how you felt about having an unexpected roommate.

But now? Now it was a little different story. 

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

Raymond’s deep voice floated over your shoulder from behind you, his arm draped about your waist heavy with muscle, his fingers relaxed as they brushed your stomach. You smiled as those fingers pressed against you, as he tugged you closer to his chest. He did this every night if you ventured too far for his liking. His arm tightened about you and he pulled you flush against him. You had to admit, it certainly wasn’t the worst way to sleep.

“Nothing,” you murmured, your eyes closing at the soft sweep of his lips along the side of your neck.

“Last night went well, I think.” His lips now brushed your ear. “Your parents like me.”

“I thought you didn't care if anyone liked you?”

“I care if they do. For your sake.The rest of this city peut aller en enfer.”

“And that is?”

“They can go to hell. As long as your parents like me, I’m happy.”

“Good. Because I’m pretty sure they like you.”

You carefully turned in his arms. His blue eyes were no longer so cold as they’d been when he first stepped into your time three months earlier. Then, he’d actually tried to run you through because he thought you were a witch. Fortunately, you managed to convince him that even if you were one, which you weren’t, no one executed witches in your time. 

Not that his adjustment had been an easy one. Far from it, actually. Your modern world confused him and he didn’t do confusion real well. He grew sullen and angry and for a while, and you were pretty sure you’d eventually end up having to bail him out of jail at least once at some point. Thankfully, it had yet to happen, but you didn't rule it out in the future, either. It took the better part of two weeks to convince him he didn't need to carry a sword everywhere and almost as long to convince him armor was just as unnecessary, deodorant was a good thing, and yes, he really should brush his teeth twice a day. You still patted him down before you left the apartment together. Just in case.

Your romance began by accident. He looked really good in jeans and a tee shirt and you really couldn't help yourself one afternoon as you were trying to teach him how to use the camera on your cell phone. He’d taken something like fifteen selfies and not a one that captured his entire face. You took the phone from him, showed him how far to hold it away, and as you took the shot, you meant to press your cheek to his, only to have him turn toward you at the last minute and kiss you fully on the lips. It stunned you at first, but then… oh… your knight knew how to kiss. His lips were soft. His tongue teasing. And when you finally pulled away, he actually smiled. Smiled and winked and showed you he did, in fact, know how to take a selfish. Jerk. Nuzzling you, he confessed he’d faked not knowing how purposely, with the sole intention of luring you in for that damn kiss. Stinker. 

The first time you slept together came about when, after several glasses of wine, you’d asked him about the scars he bore—a j-shaped one on his right cheek and the ragged looking one on the same side of his neck. He refused to tell you how he’d gotten either one, but instead began showing you the other scars his body bore. Most were on his torso, but then he stood and tugged down his jeans to show you one on his thigh. At this point, you’d matched him, scar for scar, although yours were not nearly as interesting as his. Still, between the wine and lack of clothing, it was only a matter of minutes before your underwear landed atop the heap of discarded jeans and tee shirts and socks and shoes, and you and Raymond were going at it like a couple of horny teenagers right there on the living room floor.

And now there you were. In the arms of a thirteenth-century man you were slowly converting to a twenty-first century man. 

Of course, that didn’t mean the thirteenth-century ideals men had about women didn’t surface from time to time. When they did, you reminded yourself that killing him would be wrong and you wouldn’t be able to hide his body, anyway, and he did make up for it when you called him out on it. Besides, to be fair, he’d come a long way, so his occasional lapses were forgivable, especially as they came fewer and farther between.

Besides, moments such as these made up for his somewhat chauvinistic views, moments when he eased himself over you and bent to just nibble your lips teasingly. Or when he did this, but then leaned closer and nuzzled you, whispering endearments in French as he did. Half the time, you had to have him translate, as you were only just now learning his language, and you weren’t always certain he told you the truth about what he said, especially when he was annoyed at you and muttered under his breath to express said annoyance.

“Raymond…” His name floated to your lips as he swept a kiss along the side of your neck, his dark hair tickling your cheek as he moved.

“What?”

“We do need to get up. I have things to do.”

“As do I.” Another sweep of his soft lips along your skin, his beard prickly around them. “And you, ma chêrie, are the most important of them.”

You smiled. He was picking up your lingo much faster than you were his language, and you let your protests slide by the wayside as you eased your arms about his waist to trail your fingernails along his broad, smooth back. “Is that so?”

“Most definitely.”

“So, you’re happy here?” You shifted slightly to meet his gaze. 

“Do I look unhappy?”

“Well, not at the moment, no. But this world is so different from what you know, Raymond. Do you regret coming forward and not being able to go back? Do you regret being with me?”

His eyes, once so hard and cold, were now soft and tender as he shook his head. “Of course not. I love you. I love you and I am more than happy being here.”

You could only stare up at him. This was the first time he spoke of his feelings toward you, and hearing him say he loved you, in that deep, soothing voice of his, warmed you to the center of your being. 

“You—you love me?”

“I’d not say it if I didn’t.” 

“You look surprised,” he murmured, dipping to brush your lips with his once more. “Why?”

“I… I guess because I never thought something like this would happen to me.”

“Nor I to me, but here we are and here I will stay.” He kissed you once more, then with a smile, added, “Besides, you have pizza. And I’ve found I do enjoy pizza.” 

“Pizza. You want to stay here because of pizza.”

He offered up a wicked smile and wiggled his eyebrows. “And the Pill. A glorious thing, that.”

“You’re terrible, you know that?”

“Am I, though?” He carefully lowered himself completely against you. 

“No,” you whispered, losing yourself in his beautiful eyes, “I don’t suppose you are. And you know, I love you, too, right?”

“Good answer, love,” he murmured just before his lips claimed yours and you lost yourself in the magic of his kiss.

***

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Masterlist of Imagines

Thorin x Reader

Terrible Braiding

Terrible Braiding (Revamped)

Enchanted Berries

Headache Part 1

Headache Part 2

Something There

Love of History Part 1

Love of History Part 2

With Me

Scars and Tattoos

Always Remember Us This Way

Stressed

Wildest Dreams

Hope of Spring

Rivendell Pools

The Night After

Curse of Erebor (Pirate AU)

Snowed In

What are You Doing?

Holiday Traditions

Storm Watching

Thorin’s Company x Reader

Introducing Snow White

Easter in Erebor

Tauriel x Reader

Artemis?

The Pairing Ceremony

John Thornton x Reader

Office Visit (smut)

Fake Courting

Modern Milton

Raymond de Merville x Reader

A Simple Favor