#first piece of writing on here ... it is so short im so sorry ehsdjkfsdj

[ravengards-rogue]

✧ tags : gn reader, sparring, making out lol, ex-mercenary!reader, suggestive, 18+

Wyll barely manages to dodge the swing of your fist.

He can identify the movement at least, a right hook sharp enough that it brushes his cheek even without making the full mark. His skin pulses with nerves as your knuckles brush him, stumbling backwards to not get nicked.

He pulls away and tries to take inventory - predict your next movement before you can make it.

You return to a starting stance, giving him some room. He swings first this time. With your body spread apart shoulder width and turned to one side to make you angular, you duck and put up your arms to guard from his next punch.

He lands against the front of your forearm and the shock gives recoil in his shoulders. He's gotten faster if you didn't dodge him at least. He nearly bites through his cheek, gritting as he looks at you carefully. Tries to examine your moves with the same swiftness you've taught him. On a functional level he understands it, but his body hasn't sharpened enough to use it.

He shakes his head to work off the nerve and regain his focus.

Your expression is firm and calm. A brief feeling of inspiration fuels his next move. He tries again, to aim the punch a little cleaner, land it in a way you can't dodge but you snake out of it a third time putting significant distance behind you.

Unable to predict what you'll do next, Wyll stops. The split second between deciding his next move is enough of an opening for you to strike, a swift spin kick landing on his side and abdomen.

He knocks over with a thud, on his side then on his back so he can push himself up. You join him on the ground before he gets that chance, grappling with him. The mats underneath you are soft enough to make it comfortable, but hard enough for him to feel his loss.

You wrestle on the floor like that, but your obvious strength outclasses Wyll quickly. You lock his arms and legs with your own until he can't move, your forearm under his neck. His chest heaves up and down as your cold, expressionless face looks down at him. Silent and imposing, Wyll lets out a long breath.

"Shit," He takes a deep breath in through his nose, looking up at you. You're close to him. "Mercy,"

"Are you giving up?"

Wyll gives one attempt to wiggle away to no avail.

"Seems like you've bested me. Mercy,"

When Wyll affirms his loss, you let go of him and sit up on his lap. You wipe your brown bone of sweat as he regains control of his limbs, his abdomen still heavy with your weight.

There's a long pause of silence as you collect yourselves. Wyll looks up at the ceiling, bright overhead lights painting you both in stark shades of yellow-white.

After some time, your expression breaks. You smile softly. The contrast never fails to be novel. Laying a hand on Wyll's chest, you pat lightly like you might pat someone to sleep. The touch soothes the pounding of his heart from the physical activity.

"You've improved in the short time we've sparred today. You're quick by nature, huh?"

He laughs to himself. Both at your sudden change in your demeanor and the way you're completely comfortable when held up to his utter exhaustion.

"I'm glad to hear it. I don't know if I could handle going another round with you," Wyll says, then adds with a crinkled nose. "Ah, that's not what I intended."

You tilt your head, eyes glimmering with mischief.

"You can't really keep up with me in that instance either, can you? We're working on your stamina after all."

Your reply gets a chuckle out of him. He lets one hand go onto your waist, the other taking yours into his. His lips brush up against your knuckles, kissing them as he looks up at you. Affection bleeds through his touch, eyes lidded with adoration.

"You wound me, my love. Have I ever not pleased you?"

"Flirt. You please me plenty. I guess being married has made me greedy,"

Wyll grins at you. "That's entirely my fault, isn't it?"

"Don't look so happy about it,

"Sorry, sorry." Wyll apologizes without any sincerity, opening your palm up with his hand to kiss the inside, down to your wrist. "But...I've earned being a little happy about it, I think."

Your expression changes, from faux annoyance to something else.

Wyll can feel the subtle of the mood shift, the breathy quality to your laugh. He slides his hand down to your hip, squeezing firm as you start to lean forward - balancing on one hand to keep you upright.

He'd welcome you falling into his chest, in any case, though he doesn't ask that of you.

Little moments like these still make Wyll feel like he's sneaking around. He should be more used to it by now, he's a married man - and he's been around debauchery even longer than that.

Yet, the hand sneaking up underneath your loose blouse, feeling the skin against his palms seems like something forbidden. Wyll doesn't dislike acting on that feeling, that this is something he's sneaking around to do. Unknown energy courses through him, making his skin warm.

He puts his hand on top of yours, the one on his chest - the one with the ring on it, letting pointer smooth over it. The proximity between your closes, noses brushing. With an innocent blink, you press your lips against Wyll's.

The gesture is chaste at first, enough to feel lovey-dovey and innocent. He's the one to deepen it, his hands sliding lower. You make a pleasant sound as he squeezes your ass, firm. His tongue slips against yours as you kiss, subtle slides as your incisors press into the plush of his lower lip and pull.

Half-way through kissing, you grind down on his lap. It's only then that Wyll pulls away from you. Eyes half-lidded with a less than favorable feeling stirring in his pants. There's a little line of spit connecting you that he feels especially embarrassed by.

Gods you make him lose so much control of himself. He'd have fucked you so thoughtlessly if he took even a second longer to pull of.

You pout when he pulls away, batting your lashes at him. "It was just getting good you know?"

Wyll smiles apologetically.

"Other people use these mats for training." He reminds you.

"They can be cleaned," You retort just as quickly. He has to pause to take in how fast you've said. Wyll laughs at you.

He brushes the tip of your nose with his again.

"Do you know you're rather hard to negotiate with?"

You pretend to think on it.

"Oh, I'm well aware. Me being hard to refuse is half the reason we're married, I think."

Wyll laughs against your lips, "I suppose that makes me a luckier man than I thought."

"Does this count as you relenting to my wishes?"

He feels the stirring in his pants and nods his head against better judgement. You giggle.

Wyll sighs. "Are the doors locked?"

"Mm. I locked them when we came in."

He looks at you with suspicion.

"Was this premeditated?"

"Maybe," You say, challenging and enthusiastic. "Does that warrant punishment, Duke Ravengard?"

In a swift motion, he pulls you up and flips you onto your back. You squeal delighted by the gesture, arms wrapping around his neck with a grin. He presses his forehead to yours as your legs wrap around his waist. He locks eyes with you, eyes filled with both mirth and desire.

"I think it does my love. I hope you're ready to endure it."

#wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #bg3 x reader #d.rogues love letters #first piece of writing on here ... it is so short im so sorry ehsdjkfsdj