Warnings: light violence, lust at first sight, stalking vibes, mentions of drugs/weed
Kink: Lust at first sight
Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024
Raymond had better plans. A cup of tea, a good smoke. Maybe he’d indulge and have a glass of his favorite wine.
Instead of enjoying the fruits of his labor, he’s walking along a filthy hallway. Raymond scrunches up his nose, asking himself why he must play babysitter for a junkie.
Push Pete and Bunny follow him hot on his heels. They were prepared to use force if they must. They are silent on their way toward the apartment.
“We go in, get the girl, and get back out,” Raymond makes sure the men know he’s not up to violence. This should be an easy job – junkies and a princess in need—a classic.
“Open the fucking door or I’ll tear it down!” The men stop in their tracks watching you yell at the closed door. One of the bastards dared to slam it in your face. “I know Jasmine is in there. Send her out, and I won’t smash your skull!”
“Boss?” Bunny asks. “What do you want us to do?”
Raymond dips his head. It’s been a while since he found something amusing. He smirks when you swing your pink bat, hitting the door with full force.
“Wait. Let her have her fun. We’ve got some time,” Raymond smirks as you kick the door. The man gasps as they hear a cracking sound. You kick it again, and the door flies open. “Whoa, she’s stronger than she looks like.”
“Lady! What the fuck!” One of the junkies jumps up to block your path, but you use your bat to shove him out of your way. “That’s my home!”
“That’s a rat-infested and stinking shithole!” You snarl in his direction before turning your attention toward Jasmine. One of the other guys tried to push a needle in her arm, but you grabbed his wrist just in time. You twist it until he screams in pain.
“Aunt Y/N,” Jasmine mutters. “I only tried to have fun and get a little high. You partied too. For once, I wanted to be cool.”
“If you want to get a kick, do it like everyone did. Smoke a big fat joint helping you relax and make you feel good. No one shoots that kind of shit into their veins to try. You’ll get addicted and end up like those assholes.”
“It wouldn’t have gotten addicted,” she whines. “Why do adults always have to ruin all the fun for me?”
You grit your teeth. Jasmine isn’t the smartest, but she was a good girl before she met the losers shooting dirt into their veins.
“Do you want to waste your life, youth, and brain to get addicted to stuff making you go crazy, or offer your ass to the next best guy for the next shot?”
That makes her flinch. Her eyes flick toward the guys promising her a good time.
“She wanted to be a big girl and get dick, mommy!” One of the junkies’ snickers. “Good girls don’t get dick.”
You swing the bat, almost hitting his head. “I was a good girl too, asshat. I got the best dicks in town because smart and eloquent guys know a good girl’s worth. She doesn’t need a limp dick to ruin her first time.” You snap at the guy, making Raymond and the others chuckle.
You twirl around, to face the men entering the dingy apartment, instinctively shoving Jasmine, behind your back to protect her. The leader furrows his brows. He looks at your niece behind your back and then at you.
“Whatever business you’ve got to do with these crackheads, it’s your turn. I’m done here. I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t seen me.” You look the leader straight in the eyes, not showing any sign of weakness.
“Does she have anything to do with these,” the leader scrunches up his nose as he looks at the boys, “people?”
“No,” Jasmine blurs out. “They wanted to show me a good time, and make sure I’ll be cool soon but…I didn’t mean to…”
“Got it,” he says and nods toward you. “What’s your name?”
You size the man up while tightening the hold on your baseball bat. “I told you; I’m done here. It’s your show now. We shouldn’t exchange pleasantries, Sir.”
“Sir, huh?” One of the boys laughs as you shove Jasmine toward the door. “I bet she’s a good little bitch if you give her the good shit.”
Raymond backhands the boy. He gets a wet wipe out to clean his hand before turning his attention toward the girl they came for.
It doesn’t take Raymond long to convince the missing princess to agree on following them out of the shithole.
“So, now that the princess is gone I got one more question for you,” he points his index finger at one of them. “What’s the aunt’s name?”
They glance at Bunny, a fridge of a man standing behind Raymond.
“Do I stutter?” Raymond gets a little louder. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and huffs.
“No, but we know Jasmine’s name, and I took a picture of her hot aunt,” Raymond snatches the phone out of the grinning boy’s hand. He narrows his eyes because it’s a picture of your ass and legs.
Raymond pockets the phone and turns around to leave the dingy apartment. After being here, he’ll disinfect his whole body and burn his clothes.
“He’s not so useless after all,” Raymond talks to himself as he looks at the picture of you on his laptop. Your car is in the picture too. He can see the license plate.
Raymond leans back in his expensive armchair, debating whether to find out more about the woman swinging the bat or not…
“I thought we agreed on forgetting that we met.” You glare at the man standing in front of your door. “Did you not listen?”
“We didn’t agree on anything,” Raymond replies with a smirk. “I let you and your niece go because you didn’t have anything to do with these creatures.” He steps closer, stopping you from closing the door with his foot.
“What do you want here?” You glance at the baseball bat standing next to the door. “How did you find me?”
“I have my ways,” he casually replies. “I thought we could go for tea. I know a nice tea house not far away.”
You blink a few times. “Buddy, did you hit your head?” You question. “We met at a junkie shithole, and you come here to ask me out?”
Raymond adjusts his glasses. He looks at you, waiting for an answer. “Which sort do you prefer?”
“Sort?” You furrow your brows.
“Tea.”
“I don’t even know your name. Why would I agree to go anywhere with you?”
“Name’s Raymond,” he holds out his hand. “If you come with me, I don’t have to follow you around town.”
You sigh. “You’re another love-sick puppy, huh? Is it the baseball bat?” You dip your head to look him up and down. “Fine, if you pay for my tea, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Метки: приставания(домогательства); упоминание насилия; утешение партнёра.
Рэймонд наблюдает за тобой достаточно внимательно, чтобы понять, что что-то не так. Ты садишься рядом с ним, вернувшись из дамской комнаты и не смотря на Рэя, не встречаясь с ним взглядом, потому что тебя что-то беспокоит, тянешься к фужеру с шампанским. Он легко замечает твоё смущение, не способный удержаться от того, чтобы осмотреться вокруг, мужчина тоже выходит из коридора, от куда только что вышла ты. Смит не хочет думать плохое, одна только мысль, что ты могла быть подвергнута чему-то ужасному вызывает к него тошноту и гнев, но гнусные предположения сами проползают к нему в голову.
— Ты в порядке? — интересуется Смит, склонившись к тебе за столом на званном ужине.
— Да, — ты киваешь, оставляя свой фужер.
Его ладонь ложится на твоё колено, выглядывающее из под элегантного выреза платья, когда ты сидишь.
Он принимает твои слова, даже если сомнения остаются при нём.
Когда вечер заканчивается, Микки отпускает своего друга и по совместительству своего человека, Рэймонд садится с тобой в машину, пока ты всё ещё не проронила ни слова.
— Всё хорошо? — интересуется Рэймонд.
— Да.
— Уверена?
— Да. Просто устала, хочу поскорее домой.
Рэймонд только кивает. Он знает, что ты не расскажешь ничего, пока не решишь нужным, нет смысла подталкивать тебя к откровениям, если ты ещё не готова.
Приехав домой, ты всё ещё молчишь. Рэймонд тоже ничего не говорит, давая тебе пространство, но он всё ещё наблюдает за тобой, не желая упустить что угодно дающее ему сигнал, что что-то не так.
Пока ты переодеваешься и уходишь в ванную, твой муж занят на кухне, сначала тем, что кипятит чайник для кофе, затем разбирает вашу кровать в спальне. После душа и того, как ты полностью переодеваешься, дверь ванной приоткрывается, чтобы выпустить пар, и это заставляет Рэймонда подойти к ней. Он стучит, хотя знает, что может зайти без стука и ты не будешь против.
— Могу я зайти?
— Конечно, — произносишь ты, смыв весь макияж с себя.
Он пробирается к тебе, подходя сзади, кладя руки на твою талию, пока оставляет поцелуй у тебя на плече.
— Я ударила мужчину сегодня в уборной.
Рэймонд поднимает взгляд на твоё отражение, теперь понимая, что могло заставить тебя тревожиться и замыкаться в себе.
— Он приставал ко мне, и я врезала ему, сначала по колену, потом в пах.
— Ты умеешь за себя постоять, — произносит Смит, отмечая про себя, что рад твоим навыкам. — Ты в порядке?
— Да… я думаю… просто, — Ты разворачиваешься к нему. — Я не думала, что на таком мероприятии могло бы произойти что-то подобное, понимаешь?
Рэймонд внимательно смотрит на тебя, замечая грусть и печаль, заставляющую тебя переживать. Он может быть немного зол на того мужчину, но Смит думает, что займётся им завтра, в свободное от работы время. Сейчас он хочет успокоить твои мысли.
— Я знаю. Но мудаки везде, милая, они пробираются по всюду и от них невозможно избавиться. — Смит видит твою маленькую улыбку. — Я позабочусь об этом, хорошо, тебе не нужно думать лишнего. Он бы не сделал ничего плохого, потому что они всё ещё те, кто боятся быть опозоренными и выгнаны из своих кругов.
Рэймонд не уверен, что говорит правду. Он не знает того человека, но он знает, что займётся слухами, которые скоро начнут распространяться о нём. Никто не имел права трогать женщину без согласия, особенно его женщину.
— Не думай об этом, — повторяет Рэй, оставляя поцелуй у тебя на макушке и поглаживая тебя по голове, когда старается заглянуть в твои печальные глаза, в которых осталась лишь сомнения. — Иди ложишь, я вернусь через пару минут.
Ты киваешь, повернувшись к нему, ты встаёшь на носочки, кладя одну ладонь на щёку Рэймонда, твои губы накрывают его. Маленький благодарственный поцелуй.
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+
Summer had only recently turned its back on the endless green hills, and the evenings were not yet characteristically dark—but the wind howling from the sea brought an icy foreboding of an approaching storm. Along one of the most dramatic coasts of Ireland, far from what was considered to be real civilization, the great distance between the inns often left travelers with no other option except sleeping under the stars. The landscape offered a spectacular view, and during summer, when the winds were mild, it was as close as one could get to paradise. But as the days turned shorter, the strong force of nature tested the persistence of anyone traveling along the coastline.
During their return from yet another mission, Raymond de Merville and his closest men rode in silence up the winding path. The wind tore at their cloaks, and the horses’ manes whipped angrily from one side to the other. Thankfully, it had not rained since the previous day, but Raymond’s mood was still sour. He hated sleeping on a damp bedroll and longed for a warm, dry bed. Any bed. His buckskin mare walked with her head bent to the side as if trying to shield her eyes from the wind, and he gave her a gentle stroke on the neck. She had carried him through many dangers, and he valued her more than he would ever admit. His father, Baron de Merville, had questioned his choice of horse more times than Raymond could remember. In the Baron’s opinion, a larger and heavier horse was more suitable for a knight, but Raymond liked the speed and temper of his mare. He had never seen a faster horse, and what she lacked in strength, she compensated with willingness and bravery.
The sun was slowly coming to rest behind the fast-moving clouds in the west, and the small group of riders searched for the old inn at the far end of the rocky road. Among the loyal group of soldiers accompanying Raymond, only his closest man—Dugald—had stayed at the inn before. Raymond vaguely remembered the location and the meals served there. It was a remote outpost, and the temperamental knight discovered it a few years earlier when he took the same godforsaken route. Focused on the task at hand, Raymond urged his horse forward. They needed to find the inn before they lost the light. After that, only hard rocks and the merciless wind awaited the exhausted horses and their riders.
Suddenly, a small collection of buildings appeared at the very end of the steep cliffs. With new energy in their bodies—fueled by the thought of strong ale—the group quickened their pace, and right before the last rays of light disappeared, they reached the stony yard in front of the inn. Candles were lit inside, and the innkeeper himself—a short, stocky man with a ginger beard—was busy sealing the small windows for the night. The approaching storm was not to be taken lightly. Thrilled to have a noble guest, the innkeeper assured Raymond they could find shelter within his walls before Raymond even had time to dismount his horse. Fair settlement would come later, but for now, the company was welcome to enjoy whatever the house had to offer.
Cecilia had been up since sunrise and dutifully done all the chores her father assigned to her. Only a few years ago, her main responsibilities were limited to serving their guests during the evening and caring for the sheep while the sun was up. But lately, probably due to her father’s increasing age, Cecilia more and more often found herself doing other tasks as well. While her mother spent most of her time preparing or cooking food for the steady stream of guests, Cecilia and her two younger sisters helped their father with everything he would have asked of a son—if he had one.
As a young girl, Cecilia overheard her father speaking to her mother about their incapability to conceive a boy. After their third daughter, and a good amount of tears, her parents understood that God would not bless them with another child. It became a great concern for Cecilia’s father, who—like so many other men—took an heir for granted. The thought of having one of his daughters take over the inn when he could no longer manage was unthinkable. Even if the girl’s mother did everything to convince him, there was no point. On the day of the argument, Cecilia swore to prove him wrong. Even if her father would never leave the inn to her, she was determined to show her value as a hard-working woman, and the older she got, the more difficult tasks she was entrusted with.
The inn was unusually empty, and Cecilia looked forward to a quiet evening. Maybe she would even have time to have a cup of warm cider with her mother. As she was sweeping the floor next to the door, raised voices from outside caught her attention. Her father’s voice sounded excited, and he was talking—or rather shouting—to someone, but she could not hear what was said. A horse suddenly neighed loudly, and Cecilia realized they had new visitors. Before she even had time to put on her cloak, the door was brusquely opened, and a man of impressive height bent down to avoid hitting his head while entering. When he straightened his back, Cecilia became certain he was the tallest man ever coming through their door, and she could not help but gasp when she took in the sight of him. The man’s dark hair was unruly—clearly from the removal of his mail coif—and he had traces of dust on his face, the kind you get from spending a long time on the road. Still, his short beard was well maintained, and under his dark eyebrows, a pair of cerulean eyes gleamed in the dim light. His jaw was set in a displeased expression, and Cecilia did not doubt he was as terrifying on the battlefield as he looked. A deep scar ran from his temple all the way to under his eye, and it made him look even more grim. His armor—together with the coat of arms on his chest—revealed his powerful status, and Cecilia averted her eyes while blushing. She had no right to study him so intensely, and he would certainly not approve.
A couple of other men soon followed the knight, and when her father finally appeared at the door, Cecilia sighed in relief. Even if she was used to handling most types of men while serving—not all travelers were gentlemen—there was something dark and unpleasant about the man who walked over—with no small amount of self-confidence—to the largest table in the room and sat down at the end. Another dark-haired man took a seat next to the first and then followed the rest of their company. Soon the men demanded ale and roasted meat to be brought to the table, and Cecilia looked at her father with a question on her face.
“What are you waiting for? You heard the men, did you not? Go see what your mother has ready.”
Cecilia sighed again. She would have preferred to keep sweeping the floor.
As the strong wind tried to rip the land apart, the heat from the fire warmed the newly arrived group of men, and as soon as their plates were filled with hot meals, their initial grumpy mutterings were replaced with laughter and merry chattering. Only one face remained displeased.
Raymond sat quietly and ate his roasted chicken directly from the bones. The skin was crispy—just the way he liked it—and well-seasoned. The innkeeper's wife was a good cook, and Raymond swallowed the last of his food together with a few mouthfuls of ale. It was the best meal he had enjoyed in days, but he was still not satisfied. He told Dugald to order another round of ale, hoping it would help him let go of the restless feeling in his chest. The howling wind increased in power, and he was grateful they reached the inn before nightfall. He could hear the wind tearing at the roof, and the house creaked as it fought back.
It did not take long before the young woman arrived with more foaming ale. She offered sweet smiles to all his men while handing out their drinks, but when she placed his pint on the table beforef him, she did not even meet his gaze. A short “Sire,” was all he got before she quickly walked away. Raymond watched her as she grabbed a broom and started sweeping away the mud they had brought inside upon their arrival. He was surprised he did not notice at first how beautiful she was. Her thick copper hair was pulled back and held in place with a ribbon, allowinghim to study her facial expressions as she worked. The way she moved her body made Raymond think of dancing—something he had not done since he left Rouen. Her waist was slim, and he briefly wondered how it would feel to put his hands around it. He took another mouthful of the strong ale and allowed himself to shamelessly admire the curve of her hips. It was something special about her that he could not really explain to himself. The young woman glanced at their table on several occasions, but not once did she meet his gaze.
When he finished his second ale, the burden of stress in Raymond’s chest was almost gone. The men around him became louder, and Dugald made an attempt to get the barmaid’s attention for yet another round of pints.
To Raymond’s displeasure, the ale was brought to the table by another young woman. The new girl was a significantly younger copy of the first, no doubt her sister. As she placed the pint in front of Raymond, he grabbed her wrist. She met his cold, intense stare, and her smile died on her lips.
“The woman who brought us food, what is her name?”
“Cecilia, Sire. Please, let me go,” the girl responded with a frightened look in her eyes.
“Tell Cecilia she is not done here,” Raymond muttered and lifted his hand. The girl practically ran away from the table, and Raymond wondered if she would tell her father—the innkeeper—or if his message would be delivered. Cecilia. Pretty name for a pretty face, he thought as he met Dugald’s amused look.
Dugald leaned in closer to Raymond and held his voice down. “Taking an interest in the soft flesh?”
“Mind your own business, Dugald,” Raymond snapped with a clear warning in his tone.
“For the right price, I am sure she can be persuaded to warm your bed tonight, if that is what you need.” Dugald ignored the icy stare Raymond shot at him. If it were not for their long friendship, Raymond would never have allowed Dugald to speak to him like that.
“I do not need to pay for a woman’s company, you know that.” Raymond took a few large gulps of his new ale and then grinned. “Besides, if I take a woman to my bed I prefer someone who actually wants to be there. Harlots lie dead on their back—a willing woman is far more interesting.”
“Fair enough,” Dugald laughed and looked appreciatively in the direction of the younger of the women. “One thing is certain: they did not get their looks from their father.”
“Cecilia, I need to speak with you!”
Cecilia turned at the sound of her youngest sister’s voice. She had gone to offer her mother some help but was pulled to a quiet corner and hushed when she tried to ask what was going on. Alice's voice was rushed and she kept her tone down.
“The scary-looking knight at the end of the table was asking for you. He asked for your name, and I gave it to him. I am sorry, but I could not refuse him. Did you speak to him?”
“I did not, I just gave them what they wanted.”
“He said you are not done yet. What does he want? Shall I go tell father? So he keeps an eye on them?”
“No, I can handle it myself,” Cecilia said with a confident smile. “We do not need to worry him.”
“Alright, as you wish. But I do not like the look on that man’s face. He looks cruel.”
Cecilia peeked around the corner, out into the main hall where their guests were seated. The room appeared even darker than usual now thattheir father had covered the windows. Candles and lanterns were placed on every table, and they spread a faint, warm light over the different faces. The knight with the horrifying scar was in deep conversation with the man next to him and paid no attention to anything else at the moment. Or so she thought.
“He does look grim, I agree. But we have seen worse, I think?”
“We have. Just be careful. And scream if he tries to touch you!”
“I promise! Stop being so dramatic, you are making me nervous with your thoughts. I am sure the evening will be quiet. Let us serve them ale, that will keep them happy.”
The sisters exchanged smiles, and Cecilia took a deep breath and stepped out into the main hall again. Alice’s words rang in her ears. He knew her name. Why did he ask for that? She did not have time to think of an answer, for as soon as she made her presence known, she had new requests to fulfill. The few other guests staying at the inn had taken their seats at another table, and Cecilia was glad for the distraction. She wiped her hands nervously on her apron and started working with a forced smile on her face. More meals and ale were prepared, and Cecilia and her sister hurried to serve the new group of hungry guests. As she worked, she could not help thinking of the knight. When he stepped over their threshold, she instantly saw the unusual color of his eyes, and the way he moved as he walked past her almost made her heart stop. He was danger personified, but a secret part of her liked that. She knew it was stupid, but she wanted to glance toward the other table and see if he was still as stern after all those strong ales.
Raymond instantly noticed Cecilia when she walked back into the room, and he did not care about Dugald’s inappropriate comment about it. Once again, he was reminded of her beauty as she smiled welcomingly at some other guests. But frustration grew inside him the longer he watched her. She had refused to look at him as soon as they were seated, and yet everybody else was treated with warmth. He emptied his pint and slammed it down on the table, earning a frown from Dugald and a cheer from the rest of the men. They quickly followed his example, and soon voices were raised for even more. It was going to be a long night, he thought, if his men kept drinking like that. But with the storm raging outside, what else could they do?
A feminine laugh, light and clear as the water in a spring brook, rose over the tables and landed like a sharp slap on Raymond’s face. He could not explain why it made him bitter, but he demanded to know why she ignored him—Raymond de Merville—while other men were generously met with kindness. The strong ale chased away the restlessness, but, it awoke something else instead. Desire. He stood up from the table, and without even a look at his men, he followed Cecilia when she once again left the room.
Cecilia was on her way to the pantry when she heard steps from heavy boots behind her. Before she could react, a warm, large hand wrapped around her wrist, and a not-so-gentle pull made her spin around and collide with a broad chest dressed in a stained burgundy surcoat. The masculine scent of musk mixed with leather and smoke surrounded her, and in the narrow passage, she had nowhere to go—she was trapped without any possibility of getting away from him. He towered over her, and she had to stretch her neck to meet his gaze. A small gasp escaped her lips as she stared into his cerulean eyes. She could not really make out the stormy expression in them, but the frown on his face told her that he was not pleased. Cecilia instinctively put her hands on his chest to push him away from her. The long hauberk made his upper body even harder than she assumed it was. Not that she had thought about that while sweeping the floor.
“Are you avoiding me?” His low, commanding tone was unlike any other voice she had ever heard. Who was this man, and what in the Lord’s name did he want?
”Sire?” Cecilia tried to think of a suitable answer. The truth was that she had indeed deliberately avoided any type of interaction with the man. In her mind she had the picture of him clear: he was a cruel man, a merciless slayer, and he had sworn to serve the crown—for as long as he lived. She was not sure what crown, for the men at the table spoke a language she did not understand, and the knight in front of her had an accent laced with a softer melody than her own. But he was also dangerously alluring, with his sharp jaw, patrician nose, and the confidence of a true warrior. And his lips. One quick glance at them made her warm, and she cursed herself for her reaction.
”I said, are you avoiding me?”
She forced a smile on her face and secretly let her fingernails dig into the soft skin of her palms.
”Of course not, Sire. I was just going to get some fruitcake, if you and your men would be interested in having some.” Cecilia knew most people had a change of mindset when threats were involved, but the man just stared back at her. The clouds in his eyes seemed to slowly fade away, and Cecilia exhaled a little too loudly.
”I am sure my men would appreciate some.” His breath was warm, and he smelled of ale. It was not unpleasant, but Cecilia would rather die than admit it.
”And you, Sire?”
”I have no interest in fruitcake, Cecilia.” She flinched at the way her name sounded when spoken by him. He made it sound exotic—like an endearment even.
”Is there anything else I can get for you?” Cecilia did not approve of the weakness in her voice. This was not how she usually handled guests who had too much to drink, and with a frustrated sigh, she pressed her nails deeper into her skin. He was no different, she told herself—no different at all.
”No,” he said, but something sparked in his eyes. For a second, Cecilia thought he was going to touch her, but then he took a step back and freed the passage.
”Let me know if you change your mind, Sire,” Cecilia replied, but as soon as the words were out, she wanted to sink through the floor. That did not come out as she intended. What if he thought she was implying another type of service? She had heard of women offering their company to guests for payment, but that was not what she was doing. “I did not mean to—”
”I will keep that in mind,” he cut her off with a grin. Then he turned and strode back to his men, leaving Cecilia in the narrow hall with blushing cheeks while his musky scent lingered like something forbidden in the air.
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Pairings: Raymond Smith x Reader
Summary: Raymond helps you unwind after a stressful day
Warnings: 18+, shotgunning and smoking weed, cockwarming.
Word Count: 313
a/n: @river-soul I can’t get this part out of my head… and now I’m dragging y’all with me😂
“One more, darlin’. You had too much to deal with today,” Raymond’s fingers kneaded your hips, leaving you whimpering in his lap when he reached for the couch’s side table.
You remained soundly in place; his softened cock nestled deep between your folds. The sounds of jazz from the record player filled the room, the needle along the vinyl adding extra comfort. The large stone fireplace kept the chill outside and your bareback warm, while you kept him safe inside you.
You watched Raymond’s tongue run along the paper, unconsciously mimicking his movements with your own- much to his delight. The joint looked much smaller this time in his hands, his thick thumbs rolling and twisting the paper.
The flame from the brass lighter reflected in his glasses- his wide, blown pupils hidden for a moment. You squeezed around him, murmuring something about a beautiful devil.
He smirked at that. The fire outlining your body for him, just him- and yet, you fancied him a devil.
You’d be the end of him, he was sure of it. The burning logs cracked in agreement.
“Hm… we’ll always be each other’s,” Ray exhaled after that vow, a quiet pop from his lips when he released and recaptured the smoke.
“Now. Be my good girl- rock,” he inhaled sharply after his last word, quickly resting the joint to the side.
The scent of his aftershave hit your nose again when his large hands cupped your cheeks.
Pulling you close to his mouth, his lips wavered gently by yours as your hips dipped deeper into him. Clenching around him, the feeling of him hardening inside you flooded your chest.
His thumbs rubbed the corners of your mouth seeking access. His glasses bumped you slightly when he pressed your parted lips into an open kiss. His smoke- now yours, filled your lungs as your fingers tangled his hair.
Armitage Summer Splash #10 ~ with thanks to @fizzyxcustard and @lathalea for this challenge!
Trope: Kidnapped
Quote: “You always told me that you’d never hurt me”
RA Character: Raymond de Merville
Relationship: Raymond x Fem!Reader
Warnings: unprotected sex, angst, misogyny
Rating: M
Word Count: 3,682
A/N: I used Google translate for the French phrases, so I apologize if they are incorrect.
***
You hadn’t moved in over an hour except to blink every now and again. Rather, you sat, knees drawn to your chest, back up against the rough bark of a fallen tree, and stared moodily at the fire crackling loudly, a stick popping as it shifted in the flames before being consumed. You ignored everyone and everything around you—the dull ache in your back, the fatigue burning in your eyes. You just watched the flames as they danced, slowly at times, like a woman trying to seduce her partner and other times, far faster, almost frenzied in their movement. They soothed you, those flames, they helped your mind wander for a bit, carried you away from your reality, if only for a little while. Because in your reality, you were the stick being consumed by the flames of your life, powerless to stop it, no matter how badly it burned.
“You should eat.” Raymond’s deep voice came from behind your left shoulder, oddly gentle. You scowled at the fire. He could sound as gentle as he wished, it changed nothing.
He came around from behind you, his sword slapping softly against his left thigh. The others were asleep already, worn out from a long day’s journey across the rocky terrain. Sleep was the furthest thing on your mind, for each step across the landscape meant you were another step closer to being returned to your father.
And being forced into a marriage you did not want.
Yes, you were definitely the stick.
Another branch popped. And yet, you still did not move.
He settled on the log bracing your lower back. “So you still refuse to speak to me?”
You hadn’t said a word, not uttered a single peep, in almost two days. You only looked at him when you absolutely had to and even then, you only hoped he knew how you looked through him. You tried his patience hour after hour, just as you had the entire time you’d known him.
For all anyone could guess, you and Raymond had only just met when he’d snatched you from your bed at the run-down inn where you’d sought shelter from a drenching downpour two nights prior. They’d be hard-pressed to believe that you’d known each other practically your entire lives. You were close as children, even more so as you grew older, and at one point, you were almost positive he’d ask for your hand. You’d loved him from the time you were old enough to know what love was, and although he’d never spoken the words aloud, his actions said what he could not where you were concerned. He looked out for you, would lay low anyone who thought to mistreat you. He’d given you your first kiss when you were both by thirteen summers old. It was only a matter of time before he’d take you to wife.
But then, the winter of your eighteenth year, he’d left. You didn't know where he’d gone, or why he’d gone. All you knew was that he’d gone. And with him went the frivolous dreams you’d once had of winning his heart. Impossible. He had no heart.
“Very well. I suppose I will leave you to your thoughts.” He slapped his hands against his thighs, then slowly rose.
“Why? Why would you do this?” Your throat felt scratchy, your voice almost as scratchy from lack of use. But, as angry as you were at him for taking you from the inn, your curiosity, as always, got the better of you.
He paused as you looked up at him, meeting your gaze directly. He never shied away from any confrontation, no matter how big or how small and this was no different.
He didn't say anything at first, but just studied you. In the soft glow of the dancing orange and yellow flames, he looked utterly exhausted. Dark smudges shadowed beneath eyes you knew could be blue or gray, depending upon his mood. In his youth, he’d been strikingly handsome, almost impossibly so, and as he settled into manhood, he’d only grown handsomer still. Time didn’t diminish his powerful his good looks, just as the scar on his face could not diminish them. You wondered where he’d received it, who had given it to him and why? It began—or perhaps ended—at his right temple, curved along the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, and curled up to just beneath that eye. It made you wonder what other scars he bore, as you had no doubt there were others.
It was too dark to tell whether his eyes were blue or gray, as they hovered between the two, depending on his mood, but his gaze was direct, meeting yours. “Ah, you’ve not forgotten how to speak.”
“That is no answer.”
“I owe you no answer.”
“Of course not. It is only my life you’ve ruined.”
A low chuckle rolled toward you, but there was no mirth in his laugh, no emotion whatsoever. He’d grown even colder as he matured and you wondered if his heart had instead become a block of ice by now.
“Your life. Tell me, how have I ruined your life?”
“By stealing me from my bed, throwing me first over your shoulder and later across your horse to drag me back home. That’s how.” You jerked back toward the fire. “Why? Why could you not simply leave me be? You had no cause to kidnap me, you know. I was fine exactly where I was.”
“Kidnap you? I did nothing of the sort. I was tasked with retrieving and returning a wayward fool of a girl who thought to try to avoid fulfilling a bargain by running away.”
“A bargain I never made.” You got to your feet, your body humming with the need to move. No one was supposed to find you. You were supposed to simply vanish into the mist and never be heard from again, to be able to start a new life in a new place.
But no. Raymond tracked you down in less than a week.
You scowled at him. “Have you any idea what you’re doing? Or do you only care about the gold you’ve been paid?”
“I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“Do you? You are delivering me into the hands of a man old enough to be my father, who thinks nothing of brutalizing anyone or thing he believes deserves it. That will become my life, the object of his brutality. Think you I deserve that?”
“A contract is a contract and it is not up to me to decide whether or not it is to be enforced.”
You stared at him, shaking your head. “I did not agree to the terms.”
“That is of no matter. Why would anyone care if you agreed to them? That’s foolishness talking there. Your opinion on the agreement is moot. There is a reason for that, you know.”
Your gut kinked at the quiet finality in his voice. “So, that’s it, then. You think my father and Comte de Verlaine should feel free to take whatever liberties they wish where I am concerned? That I should just be quiet and accept my lot in life and marry that wrinkled old prune of a man? To let him do as he will with me when the mood strikes, however that mood shall strike.”
His hands came to rest against his sword’s pommel, one atop the other, and he merely shrugged. “It matters not to me where you go once I’ve left you on your father’s doorstep. You should not have run, but—”
“And you should not have stolen my freedom from me.”
His eyes widened for a moment, and the firelight glinted off his dark hair as he shook his head. “You are a fool, to choose living in squalor over living in comfort.”
“I would rather wallow in a gutter than lay with Verlaine.” You spun about and marched away from him, toward the wide river to the east, picking your way around reeds and rocks and anything else in your path.
You never heard his boots on the ground, but then he seized you by the arm and spun you about to face him. “What would you have me do, then?”
“You swore you would always look out for me,” you told him, narrowing your eyes even as your heart ached worse than it ever had before. “That you would never let anyone hurt me. Do you remember that? To you remember that promise you made to me? You always told me that you’d never hurt me! And then you left. You left and now here we are, with you taking me to another!”
“You wanted what I could never give you,” he told you, shaking his head before turning toward the black ribbon of rushing water weaving through the countryside behind you.
“You could give it, you chose not to.” You also turned to the water, wrapping your arms about yourself as the night’s chill bit into you. “Do you know what you will deliver me to? A lifetime of misery, is what. Misery and more misery. He will expect children and the thought of giving him them nauseates me, Raymond. It terrifies me. He is… repulsive.”
“As am I.”
“No,” you shook your head, glancing over at him, “you are only in your own mind. I’ve never seen you that way and you know it.”
“There is nothing I can do. I am bound to see this through to the end, my personal feelings be damned.”
“There is something you can do. You can and you know it. And again, you simply choose not to.”
“I do not have the luxury and you need to stop thinking of me the way you wish me to be, for I am not the man you think I am.”
You sighed softly, letting your eyes close as tears stung them. “So I am realizing. And I must confess, I find it greatly disheartening.”
“What would you have me do?” His voice grew harsh, and without warning, he grabbed you by the shoulders, spinning you to face him. “Tell me, what would you have me do?”
You stared up at him for a moment, then shoved up onto your toes and caught his lips with yours. His entire body went stiff at first, but then… then he yielded and your heart rose. First, his lips moved slowly against yours. Then they parted. His tongue slid into your mouth as his arms eased about your waist. His hands flattened against your back, swept up along it. Heat rose from the linen shirt he wore, his armor shed and left by the fire earlier. Through the fabric, you felt the solid rises of muscle across his chest as you let your hands glide across him, up to his shoulders, around to the back of his neck. Your fingers stretched up into his hair, damp from the night’s fog.
He softened his kiss, his tongue no longer plunging in to snake about yours, but rather it caressed yours, more gentle than you’d ever thought him capable. His arms tightened about you, and as your breasts pressed harder into his chest, he actually moaned softly into your mouth.
Your eyes grew so heavy-lidded, you couldn’t keep them open if you tried. Not that you tried at all. No, you let them close, let the delicious headiness of arousal wrap itself about you. You’d dreamed of this moment for so long, when Raymond would finally admit his feelings for you. He’d come so close before he’d left. Now, he’d admit the truth. And you could run away together and begin a new life somewhere and just… be happy.
His arms fell away from you, then his sword hit the earth with a soft thunk. A moment later, he caught you by the hips, then slid both hands up along the curve of your waist, skimming along the front of your dirt-spattered, wrinkled bodice. He cupped both of your breasts at the same time to make you shiver against him. The heat from his palms sank into you in a most delicious manner and without thinking, you let your back arch, pressed your breasts deeper into his hands.
Raymond broke the kiss roughly, gathering a handful of your hair in a fist to tug and as your neck bowed, he devoured it like a ravenous wolf. There was no hesitation in his movement, in his actions. He knew exactly what he was doing and for a moment, bright green jealousy slashed through you at the thought of the women he’d probably been with and upon whom he’d perfected his skills.
You chose to ignore that. Each kiss came harsh against your sensitive skin, your scalp tingling from his tugging on your hair. Still, you smiled into the darkness and let him pull you down into the damp earth.
He pinned you beneath him, his body hard and unyielding as he continued his onslaught against your neck, the scruff of his beard scraping sensually against your skin. That anyone could happen upon you only heightened your senses, made each caress, each kiss, that much more enticing. You didn't care if anyone caught you. All you cared about was losing yourself in Raymond, in making him lose himself in you if you could. He bit teasingly into the slope of your shoulder, then soothed it with a sweep of his tongue against your skin. You returned the favor, smiling when he shivered against you and breathed, “Do that again…”
You did. His skin was salty and musky, hints of leather and iron woven in, and as your teeth clamped against him, he gave a hard thrust that sent fire running riot through you. You’d dreamed of this moment for so long, when you would claim him as yours for good, and you were not the least bit shy when you gripped two handfuls of sweat-stained linen to tug up.
It slid easily along his back and over his head and you let your eyes feast on what you’d bared. You’d never seen him undressed before, but had only imagined for yourself what his body looked like. He defied even your dreamiest of expectations.
Swells of muscle wrapped along his arms, across his shoulders. Dark hair spread wide across his chest, covered him from shoulder to shoulder and down over his belly to the waist of his trousers. Oh, he was a fine specimen of a man, your knight, and you were not about to let him go. You slid your hands through that hair, surprisingly soft, and smiled when your fingernails against his skin elicited a husky moan from his lips. You brushed your fingertips over his nipples, let your nails scrape them, and each teasing touch had him pressing his hips hard into yours, which sent white-hot pleasure streaking through you.
It wasn't enough, though. You had to touch him, had to feel his skin bare against yours, to feel him bare against you. You’d burned for him since you were old enough to understand what lust was, and now you were so close to having him, you could practically taste him.
His hand was rough against your calf as he reached beneath your skirts to sweep up along your leg. Your thigh. Your skirts bunched about your waist, the cool night air dancing along your bared skin. You shivered at his touch, at the gentle way he caressed your thigh, the way he swept his hand up to cup your backside. His fingers traced back down over the curve of your backside, up and over your thigh to disappear into the darkness between your legs and then—
“Oh!” You couldn’t hold back your gasp as he slid his fingers thorough your curls, then thrust a single finger inside you to tease you where you ached the most for him, where you positively burned for him. At first, you tensed against him, but then he did something with that finger, stroked something very sensitive and highly pleasurable and your gasp melted into a purr.
He bent to seize your lips once more, his tongue thrusting into your mouth in time with the finger he thrust inside you. He swirled both. Drew both back only to come at you again. The pleasure twisted through you, billowing like smoke, bubbling like boiling water, filling you with a yearning you’d never experienced before. Everything inside you was so tight, you were almost afraid you’d shatter like glass before much longer.
Raymond wasn’t at all gentle as his thumb brushed the pearl nestled within your folds, nor did you wish him to be for when he teased that bead, a bliss so raw and sweet tore through you, all you could do was cling to him, your fingernails biting into the sweat-dampened skin of his shoulders, while you shuddered beneath him.
The harder you dug your fingernails into his skin, the harder he teased, and the hotter the fire burned. Your mind went blank, the inferno inside you raging out of control, your body ravenous for his and demanding his to soothe that need swelling within you. You rocked your hips to meet him, to savor the pleasure pulsing through you now. Oh, you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted him before and so you caught the bindings of his trousers to tug open.
He shuddered against you when you found him, when you wrapped your hand about that sleek, hot part of him to stroke. You were’t shy, nor did you hesitate, but instead you moved along that thick length and smiled as he moaned into your mouth, as he moved his finger faster inside you and his thumb harsher against you. You explored that part of him as best you could, considering how you burned for him.
With a low growl, he slid his finger free, fumbled slightly in his haste to tug your hand from him, and a moment later—
The pain came swift and sharp and mercifully short-lived and then he was inside you, pushing his way deeper into you, moaning low as your body slowly accommodated him, slowly allowed him full entry. You squeezed him, smiling as you pressed your knees against his sides. You had no idea he would feel so thick, so full inside you, that he would only seemingly barely fit you. You trembled around him, murmuring, “Oh, my love… yes…” as he seated himself and went still against you.
Your name floated to his lips in the softest of whispers, and his kiss came lingering and sweet as he gave you a moment to acclimate to having him inside you. Then he thrust, and your knees clamped tight against his sides as you moved with him. This wasn’t quite how you envisioned giving him your virginity, but you didn't mind as his lips claimed yours once more. It took you a moment or two to adapt to his rhythm, to meet his thrusts, but when you did, he shivered against you and a low moan rose in his throat.
He moved more easily inside you now, your arousal combining with his to make each thrust silken, more sensual, more absolutely wonderful than you could have ever possibly imagined. Oh, you could so easily become spoiled by his lovemaking, by the absolute bliss he introduced you to with each one of his powerful thrusts. You looked forward to many, many more nights spent this way, and wondered what else you could do that would feel just as sinfully sweet. What he could do to you. What you could do to him. Oh, you would love discovering all of it with him.
Your insides knotted in a manner more delightful, more wickedly delicious, than you could have ever imagined. He surged harder, thrust deeper and as you teetered on the edge of nirvana, he drove hard to shove you into he abyss.
“Raymond!” Your voice rang out into the darkness and you didn't care who heard you as he thrust hard and with a guttural oath, his body spilled into yours. He shuddered hard against you, his hip grinding up into yours, his release hot and powerful and unlike anything you ever felt before. You melted around him, your thighs firm against his ribs, your body greedily squeezing every last bit of pleasure from both you and him.
He sank against you, his breathing rough and ragged and smoky about the edges. A soft kiss swept along your neck and he whispered, “Je t’aime. Je t’ai toujours aimeé, ma chérie…”
Tears stung your eyes at his confession. Brushing your lips against his ear, you murmured back, “Je t’aims aussi…”
He trembled against you, fighting to slow his breath, and then, with a low grunt, he withdrew and you shivered at the loss of his fullness inside you. You expected him to stretch out beside you, to gather you in his arms and spend the rest of the evening planning your future together, lying entwined beneath the inky black sky spattered with twinkling stars until you drifted off to sleep in his arms, secure in his love.
But, to your surprise, he got to his feet, tugging his trousers back into place as he did, then crouched to swipe up his shirt once more. As he drew the linen over his head, he said, “You should try to sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us come the morning.”
You just stared up at him. “But… but, I thought that you and I—”
“Nothing has changed. I will still see you returned to your father.”
Your eyes stung as he turned and walked back toward the fire, leaving you to sit there, hands folded in your lap, your skirts winkled and creased from being bunched about your waist while he took his pleasure. And as you tried to make sense of what had just happened, the skies opened up.
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Summary: for their first anniversary, Raymond takes his girlfriend to a cemetery for a Halloween picnic... having dinner while giving the spirits a show
Warnings: public sex, Oral sex, riding, creampies, public sex, pervy ghosts watching
word count: 1.6K
Spooky week Masterlist
For most people, a first-anniversary date is supposed to be incredibly romantic and meaningful to the couple… Y/N and Raymond met last Halloween in a graveyard while trying to hunt ghosts for their separate businesses. Raymond didn’t even know he had a rival in his industry, let alone a very sexy and tempting female ghost hunter that he couldn’t take his eyes off of— causing them to argue until the sexual tension in the room snapped like a stretched rubber band.
They ended up fucking against a tree, abandoning their hunt for ghosts for that night and eventually merging companies so they could spend more nights alone in random haunted places together.
A year later, they close up shop early on Hallows eve, even though it is their busiest day of the year. And by early, it’s midnight and he wants to take her somewhere special for the witching hour. So Raymond surprises her with a picnic basket and a smile, “happy anniversary, babe.”
“Babe,” she replies with a smirk, “I told you we didn’t need to go all out for this… it’s not even a real anniversary, we started dating officially in November…”
“I just want to go to the place where it all began,” he begs, puppy dog eyes included. She couldn’t ever say no to those big brown beauties.
“That’s one of the most haunted cemeteries in the area and you want to eat and then fuck me while all the ghosts watch?” She teases, down for anything with him but also loving how he blushes.
“Maybe we can catch them watching us this time…” he shrugs, holding up a camera along with the picnic basket.
“Oh,” she smirks slightly while biting her bottom lip. “Yeah… I think that would be good.”
—
They eat dinner by candlelight, spread out on a nice blanket as they kept their eyes out for ghosts. Most of the time, if they just asked a spirit to cross over, they would, but some of the spirits in this particular cemetery won't leave. They have a club of sorts, enjoying the company of haunting the same place and Raymond didn’t blame them… who knew what was on the other side once they did cross over.
Y/N sighed, looking at him with a growing smirk, “so we are going to fuck for them again or are you just going to look at me like that all night?”
Instead of replying, Raymond grabbed her by her shirt and pulled her forward, kissing her deeply. While Y/N was probably in the mood for a crazy hot fuck in the middle of this crowded cemetery, Raymond almost missed having regular vanilla sex that lasted a while with her.
He missed worshiping her and making her feel amazing. He missed taking his time and remembering it for the rest of the day. But October was the busiest month of the year for them and it left them with barely any time for loving.
He kissed her again, soft and sweet, drawing Y/N in and feeling her run her hands from Raymond’s cheeks to his shoulders and then down his arms. She licked his lip, asking to be let in, feeling her tongue on his, she tasted like the wine from earlier, she felt like home.
Y/N pulled back from him, sitting up again to pull her shirt off, to which Raymond ran his hands over her soft and adorably cute stomach and magnificent chest. “I love you,” he whispered, looking at her in awe.
“I love you too,” Y/N replied with a smile, walking back on her knees till she was near the end of the bed, taking the sheet with her. She placed one knee between Raymond's legs, spreading them and getting in the middle.
Raymond knew what was coming, he closed his eyes and laid his head back against the pillows. Suddenly his half-hard cock was being removed from his jeans, Y/N had wrapped her hand around it and was slowly stroking him. He could feel his foreskin moving, the light tension from the dry skin felt amazing, Y/N’s hand moved up and down, he felt all the blood in his body rush to his dick to the point it hurt to lose contact with her.
She had a wonderful, talented, wet mouth that he craved, swallowing sharply in anticipation as she engulfed the head of his cock with her mouth. He opened his mouth in response, no sound coming out as he’d had enough practise getting off quietly in his life. He could orgasm without making a sound at this point.
Y/N sunk down, the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat before she hollowed her cheeks as she sucked back up to the tip, puckering his lips and dragging them back down his length only to make his way back up with the flat of his tongue and do it all over again.
“Oh my god, you need to stop soon or I’m going to cum,” Raymond gasped, trying his hardest to keep their communication between then and not with the spirits watching them.
She stopped, looking up at Raymond through her lashes, “why? Too good?” she teased with a cheeky grin.
Raymond shook his head, he couldn't believe her. “Yeah and I want to be able to actually fuck you for our little crowd of friends that's growing,” he gestured behind her to the green figure standing in the bushes and the others all around.
She quickly sat back on her ass and allowed Raymond to help her tug her jeans and panties down, getting her to lay back on the picnic blanket so he could return the favour. Pushing himself out of his own clothes so he could fuck her as soon as she started to beg for it. Sometimes she liked to just cum once, feeling bad if he made her cum on his tongue but couldn’t follow up after he fucked her.
“Fuck,” he groans, loving being between her legs with his lips on hers… “you’re so sexy like this, showing off for everyone.”
“Shh,” she gets bashful, hiding her face in her hands.
Slowly but surely, the longer his tongue is on her pussy the more she opens up and the louder she gets. Holding his hair with one hand, cupping her breast with another, she moaned in response to his movements. “God, fuck me already baby, please?”
She sat on him as soon as she could. Raymond ran his hands over her soft thighs, he really loved Y/N’s legs and her arms and her stomach and well, her everything. He just loved her. Y/N smiled, leaning down and whispering, “it’s time to put on the main event…”
Raymond lightly moaned, soft and breathy, not very noticeable. “You are something else, babe.”
She hovered over his aching cock, “shut up and get in me already,” she ordered, guiding the head of Raymond’s cock to her entrance, slowly sitting back down and taking him all the way inside.
She normally loved the feel of the stretch, Raymond would watch in awe as she worked himself into her. This time, however, she just sat in one go, making his gasp and immediately moan when she started to rock her hips.
It felt amazing as she continued to ride him slowly, pulling off just enough to grind back against him again, and again, and again. They got into a rhythm until Y/N up on her knees enough for Raymond to go to town, thrusting up into her as he held her hips and slammed her back down.
Y/N tilted her head back, mouth open making zero noise but probably wishing she could scream the way she did at home. “Harder,” she whispered into the air.
He watched as Y/N threw her hand over her mouth while she gripped the sheets with his other hand, clearly enjoying the new sensation. Raymond had his hands on Y/N’s hips, holding her steady while driving into her with vigour.
It felt amazing, Y/N always felt fucking amazing.
He would never get tired of fucking her, or loving her… or just her. Sure she was a bit of a pain in the ass sometimes but that’s what made him love Y/N more.
He started to feel the familiar heat bubbling in his stomach, his toes curling as the pleasure got more intense. His thrusts became less frequent, he felt Y/N’s legs start to quiver, growing closer herself. Noticing all the figures in the distance, some moaning as a sort of cheer, watching in awe as they fucked in the middle of a cemetery at 3 am.
Y/N started to cum, whining into her hand, she was never quiet no matter how hard she tried. She tightened around him, the pleasure hitting peak high, sending him over the edge as well. He pulls her flush against him, wrapping his arms around her tight as he holds her there and fills her with his cum.
“Fuck. You,” Y/N whispers between breaths, resting her forehead on his shoulder and barely holding on. Completely fucked out.
“I did,” Raymond replies with a small laugh, “and I think we got all of it on camera?”
“You sure got all of it in me as well,” she shakes her head, pulling off him and letting his cum drip out onto the blanket.
“Hey, at least it’s not ectoplasm,” Raymond teases her again, leaning in for one last kiss before getting cleaned up.
“Hey babe,” Y/N whispers, getting his attention. “The red light isn’t on…”
“We forgot to hit record,” he remembers at the last second. Smacking his hand on his face, “fuck!”
“Hey,” she stops him from freaking out too much, “we can just come back every year…”
