Hello everyone!
I've decided to start writing Richard Armitage and character one-shots by request on Tumblr. I take just about any type-from PG to M-about either Richard or any of his characters. So if you're interested, send me a PM here or on Tumblr (link is on my profile) with your prompt.
This first one-shot is Guy of Gisborne/Reader. Rated M. Based on the cover picture (Richard shooting a bow from the Dwarf Training Fail video).
"Okay. Prompt nsfw. That picture of Richard shooting the bow. Except it's Sir Guy in Sherwood. And his lacings are undone. And he wants some satisfaction."
You stumble through the undergrowth, skirt snagging on branches, as you try in vain to keep up with the much longer-legged man who'd just seemingly disappeared. Grumbling, you swat a leafy branch out of your way to emerge into a clearing. And to see Sir Guy of Gisborne aiming a drawn but arrowless bow in your direction, right leg poised atop a boulder.
"Are you going to nock that bow or just stand there all day?" you ask him, still disgruntled that he'd given you the slip.
"Well, that depends on what you intend to do," he replies, smirking.
"Do about what?" you ask, confused.
He quirks a brow and shifts his hips, the motion drawing your gaze. Your eyes widen when you see that the laces of his breeches are undone and that his stance gives you a rather clear view of the bulge still concealed by the tight, black leather. Nevertheless, the sight sends a jolt of arousal through your body. Arousal and shock, for no man you've encountered has treated you so brazenly.
"Well, my lady, what's it to be?"
You only hesitate for a second before you go to him, meeting his pale blue gaze as he tosses the bow aside.
"Excellent choice," he purrs, snaking an arm around your waist to pull you into him. You can feel his semi-erection against your belly, and another bolt of desire rushes through you.
"It's probably for the best," you remark casually. "You're not very good with a bow anyway."
"Is that so?" he asks, tone low and bordering on menacing. His lips are at your ear, and you shiver when you feel his warm breath on your neck. "I can think of plenty of ways to punish you for that comment."
"I'm just saying you're more skilled with a blade," you continue, despite knowing that you're only digging yourself deeper. "And you should leave the archery to Robin Hood."
His other hand fists itself into your hair, pulling back your head to look up at him. But he is not angry; on the contrary, his irises are eclipsed, and you can practically feel the desire radiating from his body like fire.
"Watch your tongue," Guy warns, his voice like silk. "Or I'll have to put it to better use."
You meet his gaze with a mischievous half-smile. "Go on then."
Before you can take a breath, his lips crash down onto yours in a hard kiss that only softens when you respond, clutching the front of his black, flowing shirt as if it were a lifeline. When he licks your bottom lip, you open to him, your tongue meeting his in a slow, sensual dance. He tastes of wine and something so distinctly Guy that it makes your head swim, especially because you remember that Marian had rebuffed him except when his attention suited her purposes. Perhaps if she hadn't toyed with his mind and emotions so much, both their fates might have been different, better. But then, perhaps you would not be here right now, kissing Sir Guy in the middle of the Sherwood Forest.
You're not afforded very long to contemplate this train of thought, for Guy's lips leave yours in favor of your neck, where he alternates between open-mouthed kisses, light nips, and soothing licks. Meanwhile, his fingers are slowly working open the laces of your bodice, brushing against the bare skin beneath.
His mouth is now poised above your breasts, which are still covered by your dress, but not for long as he pushes the fabric over your shoulders so that it catches on your bent elbows. You resist the urge to cross your arms over your exposed chest, but to your credit, you don't blush under his appreciative gaze. Not even when your nipples harden in the sudden, cool breeze.
Guy notices your slight shiver and obligingly cups your breasts, kneading them and smirking at the pleased noise that slips past your lips. His hands are large and warm and do wonders to dispel the chill in the air. And when he replaces one hand with his mouth...well, you're hard-pressed to think of anything that could feel better than his tongue swirling lazily around your nipple, flicking and suckling it every now and then. His ministrations are unhurried, almost leisurely, yet they're more than enough to send wave after wave of heat to your core. After a while, he switches breasts, lavishing each with equal attention, before his mouth leaves them entirely to kiss, lick, and nip its way back to your lips.
His kisses grow more demanding and passionate, and you feel his erection twitch against your belly. As if by instinct, your hand unfists from his shirt and moves down to his groin, palm flat against the large bulge. He groans into your mouth, and you press harder against him, prompting him to break the kiss.
"Show me what other skills besides speech your tongue possesses," he says, his voice as deep as you've ever heard it.
You sink to your knees, smoothing your hands over his muscular thighs, imaging how they'd feel without the leather. He's watching you, patiently allowing your explorations, but when you see how dilated his pupils are, you waste no more time and push his breeches over his hips. His cock stands proudly, thick and long, and you can't help but feel aroused at the sight.
With one hand around the base and the other on his thigh, you lick along the underside, along the vein, all the way to the head, eliciting a sharp gasp when your tongue flicks over the frenulum. His hands bury themselves into your hair but otherwise remain still, even when you take his cock into your mouth and hollow your cheeks, though his breath certainly hitches. You relax your jaw and begin to move, keeping a tight but comfortable grip on the base and swirling your tongue around the head each time you pull back. You can feel him fighting for control and give an experimental suck, which causes him to buck his hips forward and clutch your hair in his fists. Yet he doesn't guide your movements, merely meets them with surprisingly gentle thrusts. You had expected him to be demanding, even forceful, and this softer Guy merely confirms your suspicions that despite the Sheriff's constant belittling and Marian's ultimate rejection, beneath the cruel facade, Guy is a good man.
Your gaze flicks up to his face. He's looking down at you, lips parted, and his breaths are uneven. You increase your pace and move the hand on his thigh to cup his balls, pulling forth a strangled groan. His cock hardens even more and starts to throb, and you can taste the slightly bitter precum on your tongue.
And then he's pulling away and helping you stand, lifting you with hands on the backs of your thighs and walking forward until you feel a tree between your shoulder blades. Wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, you watch as he supports you with one hand and pushes up your skirt with the other, touching your core through your undergarment. But it's not enough, and when you wiggle your hips, he pulls aside your undergarment, putting you down momentarily so he can slip it off completely before picking you up again.
His fingers part your labia, smirking at the moisture he finds there, while his thumb strokes over the engorged flesh. You gasp when his thumb circles your clit, leaning your head back against the tree trunk as you're overcome with such pleasure and longing that they're nearly painful. And when he inserts two fingers into you, thrusting them in and out, slowly at first, then more quickly, you instinctively thrust back. Between his thumb pressing circles to your clit and his fingers stroking your inner walls, you feel yourself nearing orgasm, and as your breathing changes, he, too, notices.
His fingers pull out, but his thumb, though now still, rests against your clit, and he lines up his cock with your entrance. He runs the head along your slit, looking down at you with a silent question in his eyes.
You understand.
"Guy," you whisper. "Please."
That's all the urging he needs. With a snap of his hips, he enters you in one smooth thrust, stretching you open and wrenching a surprised cry from your lips. There is a slight pain, but it quickly fades when he captures your lips in a searing kiss. He jostles you as he spreads his legs a bit for better balance and adjusts his hold on you. And then he's pulling out to the tip, only to push back in again to the hilt, repeating the motion over and over. The friction is delicious, especially when the new angle enables his cock to hit the bundle of nerves on the top of your inner wall that's capable of giving you such remarkable pleasure.
His thumb resumes rubbing circles on your clit, and you moan into his mouth and clench around his cock, eliciting an echoing groan from him. His pace increases, but you match it with every downward push of your hips. Heat starts to pool in your belly, your breathing shifts, and with one final, hard thrust against the bundle of nerves within, your orgasm hits you in a powerful wave. You arch your back and cry out, your vagina clenching around his cock, as he continues to push into you one, twice, three times before he, too, is overcome with his orgasm, and he buries himself to the hilt with a powerful groan.
Blissfully limp and sated, your head falls forward onto his shoulder, and the two of you stay like that until his cock begins to soften and his arms begin to tire. Only then does he put you down, steadying you when your legs give a bit of a wobble.
"Speechless for once," he smirks, tying the laces of his breeches while you don your undergarment and lace up your bodice.
"Don't worry," you smirk back. "It won't last for long."
A combination of desire and affection flashes in his eyes as he cups your cheek. "No, but at least now I have a reason to kiss you."
"And more," you say, leaning into his touch.
"Aye, much more."