— summary: if he sits like that, he really shouldn't expect you not to jump on him right there.
— word count: 1k
— content: +18, smut !!! (minors dni), he's so big, smitten!dunk, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, riding, some porn with some plot, body worship, he talks to you through it!!! praise kink, sub!dunk. i looked at that scene and wrote this in the span of literally ten minutes, stay with me on this😭
You know he's not doing it on purpose; quite the opposite, Dunk is naive and innocent, which is precisely why you love him so much and would go to the ends of the universe for him.
He doesn't sit like that to entice you because you both know you can have him whenever you want, but still, you love it when he sits like that, with his legs spread wide, his big hands propped up on his thick thighs, the tanned skin on his forearms glowing faintly under the flickering light of the campfire in front of him, his sleeves rolled up, his bulging muscles flexing beneath his skin every time his long fingers bring his wine glass to his mouth.
He's talking to you enthusiastically about... shields? Spears? You have no idea because you're busy drooling over him as you sit pretty on the other side of the little fire.
Sitting like that, Duncan looks so big, so broad. He's such a man!
When you see him sitting like that, it's hard not to get excited and jump on him.
And poor Dunk doesn't really know why you're suddenly so passionate, climbing onto his lap as if you were conquering a mountain, kissing his neck and whispering sweet words of praise onto his skin, fragrant with his masculine scent. But who could possibly be so foolish as to refuse your attention?
“L–love?” He clears his throat as he calls for you, his long fingers caressing your lower back as he simply lets himself be pampered by you, chirping like a happy little bird, “may I ask the reason for this sudden outburst of affection?”
He is such a gentleman and just so good.
“You're so handsome and big, Dunk,” you tell him in awe, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
And he blushes, of course, tilting his head away from yours so he can look you in the eyes, searching for some sign in your expression that might suggest you are just teasing him, but why would you tease him about that?
Your lips are plump from all the kisses you've showered on his skin, taking your time on every freckle and mole and scar you find on his upper body.
“Does that— does that arouse you?” Dunk asks, his voice dropping sheepishly as he speaks.
You smile coquettishly, your fingers caressing his warm, flushed cheek. “It arouses me to see you like this and to know you’re mine.”
All yours.
He considers all the men who would love to be in his shoes, with a glass of fine wine in one hand and the other appreciatively caressing the finest ass in all of Westeros, as you, the most stunning woman in the world, bounce on his lap like a savage beast, drawing out hoarse moans from deep within his throat with every twirl of your merciless hips.
The fat tip of his cock drags heavily inside you, forcing its way open through your tight, gummy walls. He's so deep you can feel it in your fucking throat.
“That's it,” is never shy to keep whispering praises at your neck, kissing affectionately the point where your shoulder meets your collarbone, running his tongue over a drop of sweat rolling down your skin and moistening it some more with his saliva. He really loves when you take control and simply having to sit back and enjoy the view. “You do it so well, my love. Fuck— still so bloody tight— uhh— just like that”
Barely does his deep voice stand out above the lewd sounds of your sexes joining, flesh slamming against flesh, so wet, so filthy.
“So fuckin’ big,” you whine out, yet you take every inch of him all the way down like the good girl you are, sitting nice and pretty on his lap, your bum pressing down on his heavy balls. Your hands squeeze his broad shoulders, seeking to catch his gaze amidst the shadows of the night. “Dunk—
“Hmm?” he hums in response to your little cry immediately, croakily. Then he kisses your neck, your forehead, your nose, and your lips, “I’ve got you, love. I always got you. So good for me.”
And from there, he'll take care of the rest. He'll drop the cup of his dear wine to get a good grip on your plump buttocks, squeezing your hips, rocking you up and down on his cock, up and down, like a weightless little doll.
Your man is so strong, yet so gentle with you.
Dunk can't stop kissing you! He kisses your tear-streaked face clean to taste the exquisite blend of your teardrops and sweat. He loves the taste of you.
He is devoted to satisfying and pampering you, so naturally your pleasure comes before his own. He ensures that you finish at least twice before he does, a set of intrusive fingers stimulating your sensitive clit, pressing between your soaked folds, sucking on your perky nipples.
“You're so small, so gorgeous... all mine, y–yeah?”
His cock is stretching you out so much that if you look down, you can see the outline of it poking out from the inside of your belly every time he thrusts all the way in.
Dunk glances at it too, and that's all it takes to push him to climax.
He cums so much that he quickly fills you up. Your abused cunt is oozing with cum, greedily milking him absolutely dry and sucking in as much of his seed as she can.
His thick thighs tense and then relax under your body as he keeps spurting loads of his warm seed deep inside your womb. His hands are lovingly running over your flesh, holding you as you collapse exhausted and happy onto him, snuggling up close to his pecs that you love so much.
What must have been nearly 10 years ago, I pitched this series for Sparklife but it was rejected (a couple of weeks later my contract was terminated, but it's not enough evidence that these two events were related). My computer broke down and I thought I lost it forever.
The first draft I sent in was James, and they were happy with the idea, but they were way less enthusiastic about the rest. I was still planning to do other male characters, but after they ditched the pitch, there was no point.
I found it yesterday in my old hard drive. This is the first half of the series of Marauders Era Characters as Male Pin-Ups that got me fired.
Truly the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life but I am once again losing my entire mind over the fact he brings his childhood teddy bear from home with him on his trips. That thing lives on his bed at home with him in London (I'm not a creep, he used to do all his press from his bedroom during the pandemic, the below pictures are from an instagram takeover in 2020 before the show began airing) and he packs it and brings it to LA for luck or comfort or whatever. This is not the first time the bear has travelled with him and it surely won't be the last. I simply can't be expected to go on in these conditions.
“What I feel for you can’t be conveyed in phrasal combinations; It either screams out loud or stays painfully silent but I promise — it beats words. It beats worlds.”
#THAT IS EXACTLY HOW PALPATINE’S KIDNAPPING WENT IN CANON
#YOU CAN’T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE
#HONESTLY WHY PALPATINE WANTED ANAKIN FOR AN APPRENTICE IS BEYOND ME
#HE DOESN’T APPRECIATE ANYTHING PALPATINE DOES
#YEAH SURE HE’S AN EVIL SCUMBAG
#BUT IT WOULD BE NICE IF SOMEONE NOTICED ALL THE EFFORT HE WENT TO
the only thing you need to know about the batman movie is that this bruce is dumb enough, emo enough, and guilty enough to adopt an acrobatic orphan and think it’s absolutely the right decision
[ID: A tweet from Robbie Daymond @.robbiedaymond which reads: “I knew it! This whole thing was some kind of trap! The Founders have kidnapped me & locked me in this studio!! I’ve been surviving on scavenged Werther’s & boiling Matt’s old leather bracelets! Help! I’ve lost all sense of time! Does anyone know what day of the week it is?!” There’s a picture attached of Robbie on the set of Critical Role, looking like he’s attempting to climb the decorative beams to escape, wearing an expression of intense fear and distress. /end ID]
France, 1714: in a moment of desperation, a young woman makes a Faustian bargain to live forever and is cursed to be forgotten by everyone she meets. Thus begins the extraordinary life of Addie LaRue, and a dazzling adventure that will play out across centuries and continents, across history and art, as a young woman learns how far she will go to leave her mark on the world. But everything changes when, after nearly 300 years, Addie stumbles across a young man in a hidden bookstore and he remembers her name.
Read if You Like:
Fantasy
Low Fantasy
Historical Fiction
Romance
Paranormal
Deals with a Demon/The Devil
Strong Female Lead
Female Protagonist
Recommended if You Enjoy:
Alix E. Harrow (The Ten Thousand Doors of January, The Once and Future Witches)
Erin Morgenstern (The Night Circus, The Starless Sea)
4.5/5
The Ten Thousand Doors of January - Alix E. Harrow
In a sprawling mansion filled with peculiar treasures, January Scaller is a curiosity her
The Once and Future Witches - Alix E. Harrow
In 1893, there's no such thing as witches. There used to be, in the wild, dark days before the
The Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern
The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it w
Zachary Ezra Rawlins is a graduate student in Vermont when he discovers a mysterious book hidden in the stacks. As he turns the pages, entra
Summary: After a near-fatal accident that put one of your best friends into a seemingly endless coma, you’re feeling a little lost and hopeless. But are you desperate enough to do something reckless?
WARNINGS: (in this chapter) EXPLICT SEXUAL CONTENT!!!! 18+ ONLY.
Tons and tons of talk about Catholicism and Christianity, scary!Josh, talk of “virginity”
Editing and moodboard by the incredibly talented Erin ( @gardenvanfleet )
MASTERPOST
Playlist
“I absolutely love Halloween,” Josh says dreamily, and then flicks a vinyl werewolf mask with his fingers to hear the slapping sound.
You’re a little distressed as you pick through a rack of packaged outfits and accessories because the only costume you’ve seen so far that you even remotely liked, you quickly realized was for children 10-14. “I can’t believe we forgot all about it.”
sometimes when my roommate is using my bluetooth speaker upstairs ill connect to it and interrupt his music to play this and its like a thousand times more effective than a normal rickroll
What I love about people who claim that “Fountain” isn’t art is that they’re never the kind of people who are actually into art so they’ll just start whining about a urinal and you can come back with, like, 30 pieces that have been made as a reaction to “Fountain,” everything from Brian Eno recontextualizing it by pissing in it to Zhou Wendou conceptually unmaking it and remaking it as something that is more unquestionably art and these “BUT MODERN ART DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING” jerk are just over there feeling wanky don’t have any idea about any of it. They’re trying to yell about a hundred-year-old statement, the opening thesis of a discussion about art, and they haven’t bothered to look at the last hundred years of art nerds arguing and debating and doing fucking art about it.
“Fountain” is genuinely one of my favorite pieces of art because of how much more art it has provoked and how compelling the conversations about its status as art can be (if Duchamp’s goal was to make people question what art is does that mean that all the reactions and remixes and arguments about the original piece are actually an extension of Duchamp’s work? Is this a communal art project we’ve all been participating in for a hundred years and can you be a part of it too? I would say extremely fuck yes.)
Y’all really gonna just be vague about modern art and how “fantastic” it is or are any of you going to explain how pissing into the glued together pieces of restroom equipment is art?
Brian Eno didn’t piss into Zhou Wendou’s 2006 Untitled piece (which is the glued-together broken urinal); he emptied a vial of urine into a replica of Duchamp’s 1917 piece “Fountain,” which was a mass-produced urinal laid on its side and signed “R. Mutt.”
Duchamp had a series of what he called “readymades” - mass-produced objects that he presented as art - and “Fountain” is the most famous of these readymade sculptures.
Plenty of people will look at a urinal in an art show and go “this isn’t art!” but in the early Dada movement nobody had thought to question whether a mass-manufactured urinal might be art. It’s a man-made object. What separates industrial craft from individual art? Is it the presentation? The context? The original intended purpose? Again, in 1917 this was a question that not a lot of people had asked before so in very general terms Duchamp put a pissoir on a pedestal and said “This is Art; Prove me Wrong.”
And then 102 years of arguing about art happened.
In 1993 Brian Eno (ambient musician and all-around weird guy) went to an exhibit that included “Fountain” and poured some urine into it. Several other people had done the same thing over the years, which is why Eno couldn’t piss directly in it and had to carry around a jar of his own waste in order to make a point.
So Eno’s point was “you’re glorifying this one particular bit of ceramic and it’s against the spirit of the original piece, this needs to be a pisspot again” and other people have peed in it to make the point that it has a broad context - it is both high art and a low urinal.
These are people who were publicly performing an action in order to make a statement about art - these were people doing performance art.
SO.
Back to 2006.
The Zhou Wendou piece takes a readymade urinal, breaks it down to ceramic, and then remakes it into a vase. It’s being very playful - conceptually remaking Duchamp’s piece into a piece of intentional art again instead of found art is clever and funny, especially when the intentional art it makes mimics something else that could easily be mass produced - it reminds me of Ai Weiwei’s 1995 work “Breaking a Han Dynasty Urn,” which also references Duchamp (it was part of Weiwei’s series about repurposing “cultural readymades”) and that’s likely intentional; I’d be surprised if Wendou wasn’t commenting on this:
“It’s powerful only because someone thinks it’s powerful and invests value in the object.” - Ai Weiwei
So that loops back around to the original piece in 1917.
Is putting a signature on a urinal art?
Is pissing in a piece of conceptual art performance art?
Is breaking an old piece of art art?
Is breaking a urinal and shaping it into a vase art?
And the reason I think all of these questions are so cool is because they boil down to this:
Is making people question the definition of art in itself art?
And I say yes.
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