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CHARACTERS I'M INSPIRED FOR - Ser Duncan the Tall
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✨ NAVIGATION ✨
CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR | RULES | OLD BLOG
main - @boromirswife
old writing blog - @jamiewintons
LATEST WRITING - Safe Haven (Boromir x F!Reader)
CHARACTERS I'M INSPIRED FOR - Ser Duncan the Tall
HIIII sex pollen idea 😍
what iffff it’s with dunk right, and instead of him being infected it’s her, and they’re not together yet so he’s like super shy and super scared to hurt her because he has a crush on her. he’s scared that she doesn’t actually want him and that she’s just drugged up and that she’ll be pissed at him and never want him around anymore (but ofc she does she loves him too they just are both dumb) but it starts really sweet and then they get crazy and then when she’s all done they confess and stuff 😍
I LOVE UR WRITING SM 😭💕💕
ok so you're a genius
I’ll Help You
Ser Duncan The Tall x fem!reader
✿ you’re infected with some kind of love potion, and you plead with dunk to make you feel better (or, a sex pollen fic but it’s you who’s afflicted). ✿ 18+ ✿ wc: 5k ✿ cw: fem!reader + reader is implied to be from flea bottom/dunk’s childhood friend, no y/n + reader is physically undefined, sex pollen, SMUT, brief f!masturbation, fingering, finger-sucking, unprotected piv, riding!!, praise, dunk is such a gentleman, they’re both so desperate for each other, strong language, fluff, confessions of love, mention of the dear bald child.
The Perfect Remedy
Ser Duncan The Tall x wife!reader
✿ your husband returns to you under the influence of a strange powder, and he needs you more than anything (or, a sex pollen oneshot with our favourite hedge knight) ✿ 18+ ✿ wc: 7k ✿ cw: fem!reader + no y/n, reader isn’t physically described, sex pollen, SMUT, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, outdoor sex, multiple orgasms (for both reader and dunk), praise!!, breeding!!, pet names (sweet girl, sweetheart, etc), slight overstimulation, slight painful sex in the beginning, needy + desperate dunk (he whinesss baby), fluff, strong language
Can we get some headcanons with Dunk and his first time with reader and him learning how to please a woman?
Your first time with Ser Duncan The Tall headcanons:
Pairing: Ser Duncan The Tall X fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, kissing, size kink, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, mention of hair pulling , cuddling and aftercare.
His touch would be extremely light and gentle as he undressed you for the first time, his lips rarely leaving yours, treating you as if you were made of the most fragile glass. Truth be told, he'd want to be more passionate and rough but considering his size and strength, he'd be scared of possibly breaking one of your bones or bruising your skin if he gave into his desires. Once you're fully naked under him, his breath would hitch in his throat and he'd become completely still over you, feeling shocked by how ethereal and gorgeous your body is, making it harder for him to hold himself back. He'd only give into his desires when you tell him that you want him to be rough with you. But even so, he'd need you to tell him what to do since this was his first time with a woman.
bro i’ve been obsessing with the thought of riding dunk’s thigh and he’s just so infatuated with you and so so desperate.
18+ (fem!reader, dunk is so needy for you [slightly… subby? idk but he whimpers ok], thigh-riding, reader is sexy + undefined).
his hands are just so big, and his thigh is just so strong and so wide that you can’t help yourself—clambering into his lap one evening, the forest quiet around you.
and you just take what you need.
Dunk definitely loooooooves to eat pussy… the first time he makes you squirt he’s so amazed that HE did that to the woman he loves more than anything in the world and he cums so hard in his pants 😵💫
HE IS OBSESSED, loves the mess of it all and how drippy you can get, hes eating that upppp.
dunk eating pussy so sloppy it makes you squirt .☘︎ ݁˖
the first time he did it, it wasn't even a conscious decision. it was a warm summer night in a quiet inn, the sheets clean and the air thick with the scent of honeysuckle from the open window. you were lying on your back, his head between your thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them apart. he was so diligent, so focused. his tongue traced every fold, every sensitive ridge, learning what made you gasp and what made you sigh.
he'd been at it for what felt like blissful hours, building you up with a patience that was both maddening and divine. his large hands held your hips steady, his thumbs stroking the soft skin there as his mouth worked its magic. he'd found a spot, just inside, that made your toes curl and your breath hitch, and he was exploiting it mercilessly, sucking and flicking his tongue, so wet and sloppy.
"dunk," you whimpered, your hands tangling in his thick, sandy hair. "i... i don't know... something's different..."
he just hummed against you, the vibration sending a jolt straight through your core, and doubled his efforts. he could feel you tensing, your thighs beginning to tremble around his head. he looked up, his eyes dark with adoration and fierce concentration. he wanted to see you. he needed to see you fall apart.
that was all it took. with a sharp cry, your back arched off the bed. a wave of pleasure, more intense than anything you'd ever felt, crashed over you. and then it happened. a sudden, gushing release that you couldn't control, soaking his face and the sheets beneath you. it was messy and shocking and utterly overwhelming.
for a moment, dunk froze. he pulled back slightly, his face a picture of pure, unadulterated astonishment. he looked at the wetness on his own fingers, then back at you, still trembling and gasping on the bed. a slow, wondrous smile spread across his face, transforming it.
"gods above," he breathed, his voice thick with awe. "did i... did i do that?" he sounded like a man who had just witnessed a miracle, which, in his mind, he had. he, ser duncan the tall, had made his love, his lady, feel something so powerful it manifested like this.
he surged up the bed, not to claim his own pleasure, but to gather you in his arms. he kissed you, a deep, messy kiss that tasted of you and of his own profound joy. "can we do that again, please?" he whispered against your lips, his hands roaming your body as if trying to memorize the moment, squeezing at your tits and rubbing your wet, bare pussy against his clothed cock. "i would like to feel that whilst yer sitting on my—"
"dunk!"
and then you felt it. pressed against your hip through his breeches, a sudden, intense heat followed by a shudder that wracked his entire frame. he went rigid against you, a deep, guttural groan escaping his throat as his face buried in the crook of your neck. he was cumming. hard. just from the sheer, overwhelming pride and love of having brought you to that peak. he hadn't even been touched, but the sight and feel of you, so completely undone by his mouth, was more than enough to undo him completely.
when he could finally speak, his voice was hoarse. "c’mon now, on yer knees, sweet girl…"
Request for duncan and his wife having nice quiet dinner together in their chambers of the palace after hes all moved in. They're both quiet, and theres a lot of tension in the air. Then, out of nowhere, duncan starts saying all the dirty things hes been thinking about doing to her and will do to her once they're finished eating. It takes her by surprise at first but obviously reader doesnt mind it either.
hi! i adjusted this prompt slightly, so that dunk has been away for a few weeks and comes home to you for the first time in your new chambers and he's got imposter syndrome and is awkward. but then you make it clear just how much you've missed your husband and how much you want him to take what's his. also there's going to be a part 2 with him making good on his promises teehee.
1.2k+ words — minors dni.
cw: fem!reader, no y/n, insecure!dunk turned dom!dunk
❀˖° — BIG STRONG MAN.
collection of scenarios with dunk and travelling companion reader and sexual tension because the man is just so 🥵 big and strong 🥵 and you both have a size kink and are pining
scenarios — minors dni.
cw: fem!reader, no use of y/n, sexual tension but no smut, size kink, 'good girl' (dunk is unfortunately speaking to the horse not you)
❀˖° — dunk n.sfw headcanons
dunk who is simultaneously the most aware and completely oblivious to his strength. he's so careful and gentle with you to the point you have to tell him you need more. but then he'll pick you up like it's nothing and move you into place (under him, against a tree, on his face) so easily and while he's still careful not to hurt you, it still takes you a few seconds to mentally catch up.
he can fuck you standing up, no wall or anything, just holding you.
dunk has a hard day and likes to relax by eating you out. makes him feel better to know he can do something right. but if you offer to use your mouth on him, well he's only a man and he won't say no.
your legs having to stretch so wide to fit his massive frame between your legs when he eats you out. and he's easily strong enough to keep you open and in one place despite your squirming.
he has a thing for long hair. he would never pull on it because he'd be scared of hurting you, but he'd want to see it or pet it or have one of his hands just holding it (not tugging, holding). meanwhile, his hair? PULL IT. PULL IT AND PUSH HIS HEAD EXACTLY WHERE YOU WANT HIM.
praise!! him!! tell that man he's doing a good job!! he'll come about it
call him a good boy oh gods he'd cum so fast
alternatively: call him 'ser'. he's usually more of a sub but you call him ser in bed and it Awakens Something In Him. still gentle even as a dom, but he'd be so much more confident and actually able to verbalize or just take what he wants.
18+ minors dni
ser duncan the tall uses his size to his advantage. he doesn’t press up behind you while you’re reaching for something out of your reach, far too respectful to impose on your space.
instead he uses those broad shoulders to shield you from the pushy, jabbing elbows of the tourney audience. dips his head low to hear you better, utterly unaware of how your cheeks flush when his hands fall to your hips to gingerly angle your body away from the crowd. inadvertently drawing you closer—only so he can better keep you safe, of course.
Hiii i have a dunk request! just something cute and sweet like a series of firsts, your first time meeting, physical touch, confession of feelings, kiss, etc! ty❤️
And so I fall in love just a little, oh, a little bit every day with someone new ! | Ser Duncan.
( Ser Duncan the Tall x fem!reader )
résumé: Ever since Ser Duncan met you, he has been utterly captivated by you and seems unable to let any opportunity pass to place his hands upon you. Of course, you allow it, from the simplest brush of shoulders to the most hungry, stolen kisses in secret.
warnings: None. It is purely fluff.
word count: 1.3k !
author's note: I hope I have met your expectations and that this is what you meant. If not, I am sorry. Tell me and I will try again as best as I can. Even so, I hope you like it. Forgive me if it feels a bit off, I am sleep deprived… sorry.
The first time you met, Duncan immediately bows his head toward you in greeting, feeling unworthy of your mere presence. You were the daughter of the Lord who owned the very lands where he and Egg sought refuge.
He was on the verge of dropping to one knee if it had not been for your gloved hand resting firmly on his shoulder, stopping him short. He lifted his gaze toward you and was left utterly speechless by the sweetness of your beauty. By the Seven! It was as if an angel walked among simple mortals like him.
“Ser Duncan the Tall”. Oh gods, your voice was even sweeter. Your friendly smile rendered him wordless, still staring at you in awe. “… have I made a mistake? Is that not how they address you?”
“No! No, no. No mistake at all,” Duncan clarified quickly upon seeing the confusion cross your face. “Aye, that is me. Ser Duncan the Tall. Indeed.” He affirmed, trying desperately to ignore the sensation of your touch.
You could not help but let out a small laugh, politely hiding it behind your free hand, never once withdrawing it from his shoulder.
“Quite heroic, is it not?” you said, batting your lashes at him with playful curiosity.
“Heroic? Well, If you should need me, I will of course be entirely at your service, my lady,” Dunk assured you, a dazed smile forming on his face at your remark. “Anything.”
husband!dunk headcanons
pairing: ser duncan x gn!reader
warning(s): sweetness and fluff because we need it here
a/n: i’m here writing a little fic ahead of tomorrow of reader and dunk and egg, and this had me thinking.. 🥹💗
first and foremost, dunk is the man who treats your marriage like a vow he renews daily. there is no honeymoon “phase” or where things wear out over time and he knows it, because everytime seeing you, being with you.. is just like the first, and he shows it not only in that dumbfounded face he pulls, but in the little things. like the way he holds you from behind, pulling you into his arms in surprise, or mending the latch on the outside gate before you’re even able to ask. cradling you in his arms as he carries you to bed, peppering kisses to your forehead.
and because of this, he’s still always faintly surprised you chose him, sinking into deeper thought than he means to when he looks at you. even years gone by with that ring on his finger and many memories, he still feels as if he’ll wake up from a dream and you’ll vanish..
and speaking of rings, whether you are highborn or lowborn like him, before you were ever married he made you both promise rings. it’s a rather sappy thing he often thinks but it’s one of his most prized possessions, thick sweetgrass and a reed from the nearby river and a twig, all harshly pressed and weaved together around his finger and eventually around yours. for a while it was all he could afford and though he wanted to impress you, he didn’t want to, couldn’t, leave you without either. and when you were granted that beautiful silver, engraved and gleaming and just as special, underneath his and your own still sat your very own twine ring. and it’s the one he fiddles with..
he is hopelessly gentle in love, as that much is very well clear, those big hands bring careful touch. and he is constantly checking in with you, your breath, your eyes, the way your body leans toward or away. always there to pull you into that bone crushing hug, the kind that seems to melt the anxiety and upset away just by pressure and his warmth. he is also a good reader of people, at least when he knows you well enough and loves you like he does you. his mere presence curing the ills before you voice them.. or even those times when you get needy and wanting, he isn’t as sly as he tends to be, when he wants you, which is always, it’s written all over him— but he never rushes, ever.
“I’m here love, just tell me what y’need.”
dunk still blushes when you compliment him, please compliment him.. he goes so red and he loves it, he can’t deny it and he wouldn’t. to be loved by you is a gift in itself. years married and down the line he’s still rubbing his hand over his face to hide his flush when you call him handsome.
he has a tendency to carry you places without thinking. over puddles when the over the path and it’s raining, or where the dirt road gets that a little too dirty sometimes. and when you’re feet ache after a long day he takes no time in scooping you up either into his lap to doze, rubbing at them softly, or across the room to simply hold you. he even makes excuses to do it, even when the weather isn’t that bad or you protest you can walk, he slings you over his shoulder though you weigh nothing with a smile tapping a light hand to your backside.
his way of clumsy is endearing, because he means well and he is constantly trying new things.. like recipes he picks up from the road or new ways to garden he overheard at a market stall. though the bread burnt in the oven and the apple tree from last season didn’t quite ripen and grow, he still tries again, and you are most definitely the test subject to be beside him.
dunk kisses your knuckles at any given time, it’s his way of relieving stress, other than holding you of course.. before tourneys, before difficult times and talks, before leaving for the road for a little while though he dodges it as much as he can.
he likes (loved) being bossed around, he lets you do it because it’s the security he is used to but with the love he hasn’t received. and hearing your little commanding voice is if not the sweetest and most gorgeous sound he’s ever heard.
no matter where you both end up nor where you come from, he has never and will never hesitate to stand up for you, even in a room full of lords and swords, with more standing than himself. he could care less if it came to you being in harms way, he is unmoving and certain, proud in the way he talks about you, nodding to you from across the room, “That’s my wife.”
he laughs louder around you, smiles easier, because there is nothing around past or present that could make a living so simple and worthwhile than with you.
dunk would fight armies for you— but would rather spend a quiet evening by the fire with you curled against his chest, attempting to read a book you’re still teaching him to read sentence by sentence.
and he feels like home, wherever you are, his scent his smile, his way too big tunic draped over your body. he makes sure he finds a way to make it that way..
can i rec dunc nsfw alphabet please<3
yes you may anon.. we need more dunk up in here, my sweet boy 🥹💗😫
ser duncan’s nsfw alphabet
warning(s): breeding kink, big ol’ softie showing love
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
okay, our knight ser duncan is the sweetest after sex. he is prepared to do anything he can to make you comfortable, grabbing you a cloth or a drink, massaging the parts of your body that aches, or simply holding you in his arms until you both fall asleep. however he does have a small ritual, everytime he’s taking care of you, after laying you down onto the sheets properly, he’s giving you a kiss to the forehead and nose, whispering sweetly at you, “What can I do, love?”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
on your body, if you ask him at least it would be everything, every part of you he can see, touch, hold and love is the part he treasures most. but if you were to ask him specifics, particularly in this sense, it would be your eyes, thighs and breasts. no matter the size, the curve, the anything he is all over it. being able to look into your eyes while wrapping you in his arms and fucking you deep enough they roll back, or look up at him sweetly. the way he can pick you up and tangle your legs around him like it’s nothing, kissing down your thighs and sucking on your nipples as you moan. they all work in tandem.. and it drives him mad.
and therefore on him, it’s got to be his hands. there’s so much he can do with them, even everyday work and combat he feels lucky enough to have the strength he does, even if most of the time it’s clumsy work.. it’s what he used to pull you close, his own anchor to you.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
now dunk is careful with this because he doesn’t want to do anything you won’t like, and if any idea or way worries you, he wouldn’t do it without permission. especially when you first begin to be intimate he tries to clean himself off mostly when he does, but his favourite place to cum, if he could indeed choose would be inside of you. there’s no mess of course, but it’s also being that close to you and being able to keep you there that he loves.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
dunk likes when you’re bold and boss him around.. it doesn’t have to be overly dominant, just moving him where you want him, or tugging his hair, telling him what you want or being bossy. it sends straight to his core..
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
sweet man isn’t that experienced, at least not by the time you’re together. he’s had his few share of maidens come his way simply out of intrigue of his size, but he’s always kept mostly to himself. a few times he’s had with the odd woman, and that time when ser arlan bought him a prostitute for the night, which was an.. interesting time he doesn’t speak of. but he’s careful, and he takes his time, and he is a fast learner. 👀
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
missionary and cowgirl without a doubt. it goes without saying that he wants to be able to see you, look into your eyes and hold you close to him while feeling you. and either having you spread on the bed or tight in his lap is what he thinks of, dreams of even..
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
he can be goofy, but most of the time it’s without meaning to. it’s the way he trips as he stalks over to the bed, or accidentally flips you a little too fast in his arms when you both get eager. he is serious about loving you and making you feel good, but once you let out a giggle or laugh he can’t help himself.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
the carpet does match the drapes indeed. he has quite a thick amount of darker/dirty blonde hair, it’s curlier than his hair and he does attempt to keep as trimmed as he can but he’s never seen the need to. though if you ask him, he will without question.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
he is clumsy chivalry personified best believe this man is going above and beyond. running you baths or lighting candles as best he can without burning his hands. kissing up on you and drawing you closer to the bed as you start to get hot.. he is big on romance and if a softie for you.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
because he didn’t have much experience even on the road, he did jack off more than he did bed anyone. but even so he never felt much need, though if he is pulled away from you for a long time he may, and best believe he’s thinking of coming home to you again.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
okay he’s got quite a few.. his size is one for him, he’s aware of it, not in a cocky way but more in a way he want to protect and lift you with ease, and he finds it sexy that he can.
he also has a heavy praise kink.. to know he’s doing well, making you feel good, please praise this man LAWD. and he likes giving praise to, whispering how good you feel, how beautiful you are.. it does things to him.
a breeding kink, especially if you are trying at any point, pumping you full and keeping you there is something he won’t admit loudly but turns him on..
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
anywhere in the private of your home, or space. mostly the bed, simply because it’s better access and the most comfortable, but the counter, or the floor, or just hoisted up into his arms are good too. he also does like having sex outside, still somewhere quiet and private, but taking you on the grass under the stars is something he thinks of often.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
you. i wish there was more that could be said but it’s you. all of you, seeing you, hearing your voice, seeing you naked, seeing you laugh, helping him with garden work.. anything.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
anything to hurt you, or something you don’t like. much like before he listens to you, and if it’s not a little bit of play rough and tumble or something that puts you in danger it’s a no.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
he’s a giver, all the way. it’s just in his nature, having your taste in his lips and your hands tugging at his hair for more is the way he would spend his days if he could. though he wouldn’t say no to you giving either, any touch of yours is enough to make him explode.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
it is mostly sensual, because of his size alone he worries about going to fast or being to much as to not hurt you. but things can get a little rough, especially when you’re both close and your heels are digging into his ass to drive him deeper. but he’s still worshipping every inch of you.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
he doesn’t mind them, but he prefers to take his time, to kiss up and down your body and draw you close to your edge over and over again, he can’t do that if you’re rushed. and even if he is turned on, he’s a yearner, he likes to wait for it..
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
dunk doesn’t take many risks because he fears of hurting you, though the furthest he could go comfortably would probably a bit of outside/public sex, though it would still be private.. but the thrill and being surrounded by nature he doesn’t mind.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
he can withstand quite a bit, dunk’s got enough steam in him to go a few rounds until you’re both spent, but he does get tired eventually. the later rounds normally pressed deeper into you, sweaty bodies colliding as he nest collapses onto you (gently)
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
i don’t believe he does, he’s pretty vanilla when it comes to things like that and they’re pretty hard to find in westeros, though if you brought them in? he wouldn’t say no.. he would just take his time working it out.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
he doesn’t tease all that much, he wants to make you feel good and doesn’t want to keep you waiting long for that. but sometimes he does like to draw out both of your orgasms just a little to cum together. but contrary to popular belief he does like to rile you up a bit before hand, kissing up on you etc..
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
he can be quite vocal in bed, gruff mumbles into the neck and groans as he’s close do get louder. he’s not the biggest talker but dunk can contain it, it rumbles through his chest and right into your own. he also whines..
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
he’s a lil fruity, i said it because it’s true, have you seen him and lyonel in a room? doesn’t fantasise or isn’t something he talks about often unless you did, but he wouldn’t be opposed.. to anyone for that matter.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
okay, the big question. he is a big boy through and through okay i said what i said. he’s packing enough to do some damage if he’s not careful, i’m thinking at least 7 1/2 to 8 inches when hard and not only that but he’s thick, like more girth than he is long.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
his sex drive isn’t crazy, but it is high enough he wants you constantly . he is the yearner after all and will work around wherever yours is and how you’re feeling, but there isn’t a time where he isn’t wanting you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
now dunk puts his all into intimacy, after he’s cared for you and knows you’re alright, he can fall asleep very fast. normally staying awake until you fall asleep and having you wrapped in his arms before he closes his eyes but after that he’s snoring..
thinking bout dunk... my sweet boy who has never done anything wrong ever, being shoved into the largest bedroom of a brothel by Lyonel's incessant hands. Of course he blushes like a madman and tries to turn, leaving the house, but forward he goes. Lyonel chuckles, "Don't be so red, you giant ! You've earned this, fairer than any man has before you." He pats Dunks chest before closing the door with an evil wink. Dunk stays facing the door as he listens to the drunkards laughs slowly fade down the hallway. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, and he forces himself to take a breath before turning.
Then he sees you, sat atop the plush bed made just for him. His eyes find your form peaking out through your robe as you stalked towards him. "Congratulations Ser." He shivers a bit at your voice, forcing himself to look away. " 'm sorry bout this, he insisted." he let out a small chuckle, "Nothing needs to happen, really. I'm not that type of lad-" You cut him off, a mere foot from his broad form. "Just come, sit on the bed with me." Swallowing, he hesitantly took your hand held between you two, allowing you to pull him further into the room. You pushed him onto the bed, his head against the headboard as he softly panted.
Most of the men that came through this house had trouble getting it up. He was hard the moment your robe dropped, and you realized why you were the one tasked with 'Ser Duncan the Tall'. This gargantuan, doe-eyed man that was about to split you in two. It was almost laughable. You straddled his legs, tip leaking against your stomach as his hands nervously held your hips. His soft features were soaked in worry, size difference wildly noticeable. But he couldn't keep his eyes from your face as you sunk down on him, nails digging into your hips as your expression shifted. You had only taken it halfway before his mouth feel agape, and by the time you'd taken him fully, he was panting like a dog. He held you there for a moment, unmoving so he could catch his breath. As it returned, you started to rock your hips, grinding against the dirty blond patch of hair above his cock.
It started with you bouncing on his lap, but eventually led to him gaining confidence and taking you from behind. A mirror was placed on the wall opposite the bed, and you fought to keep your head up to look at him. You watched as his arms flexed, how he looked from where you were joined, to your face, and back down, how his stomach would tighten when you clenched around him. You could tell he was close, but he was a gentleman after all. His arm crossed your chest to pull you against him as his other hand slid down to your clit, rubbing it haphazardly. It felt as though you'd been thrown into the sun, so hot and overwhelmed. You couldn't keep your noises down if you tried, and neither could he. You felt your cunt begin to clench, moaning his name like a prayer as he groaned into your ear. "Ah fuck... look at me, please" , ever so polite as he pounded into you. Your eyes were glazed over as they found your forms in the mirror. You realized that if someone were to look at this scene from behind, they probably wouldn't even be able to see you. He dwarfed you in a way that made you dizzy. Once you came around him, he was quick to follow. You watched as his cock bobbed between your legs, pulling out at the last moment so he painted the bed infront of you.
And yet again, unlike usual, he took to cleaning you after. Layed you down gently, balled up the stained sheets, and rubbed at your thighs with a warm towel. He'd gotten his pants on before you'd realized, but kept his tunic off. Your fingers grazed at the skin of his abdomen littered in hair. Once he felt content with your cleanliness, he picked your robe up from wherever you'd thrown it to pull it back over your shoulders. The act filled you with warmth that was rare to find in this line of work. As his tunic flopped back over his body a loud knock rang out. He looked to you, tying your robe and nodding towards the door, before opening it to see Lyonel, somehow more drunk than before but still upright. "Have fun, boy ?" he grabbed his collar, leaning up to slap Dunks cheek before pulling him out of the room. "C'mon, we have the rest of the night ahead of us !!" Dunk gave you one more look as he was dragged out, a soft smile followed by a small wink.
hope u liked tehe I havent written in a minute but this came to my head last night so I just had to share, not beta-read, we die like men
Hi! If requests are still open, could you please write something about how the Lotr Characters (or just the men of Middle Earth) would react to their s/o being really easily flustered? They're not particularly shy or anything, but they do get super red in the face and start stuttering when receiving romantic affection.
I hope you had a good Holiday experience, and I love your writing so much!! Take care
Thank you very much! So happy to hear you enjoy this blog ♡ From your other ask I inferred that you mean “men” as a race, which I found interesting to work with. I hope you enjoy your post! Take care!
・゚✧ Aragorn.
Seeing you easily flustered – even over the smallest of attentions – surprises Aragorn at first. When he romantically confessed his feelings to you during a starry night, holding your hands in his, seeing you become so red has taken him aback. However, he does not find this quirk of yours strange or tiresome, and he will defend you in front of others making fun of your stutter, naturally. In fact, seeing you easily flustered makes him feel better about his own insecurities as well. He loves your blushing cheeks!
Boromir Week | Day 7: Freeform
Prompt filled for: @boromir-week
Title: Boromir’s NSFW Alphabet
Word count: ~4.1k
Summary:
This piece portrays Boromir as a passionate yet attentive lover: dominant and strong, but always deeply in tune with his partner’s pleasure and boundaries. It’s not just about sex — it’s about desire, care, intimacy, and the quiet vulnerability that lies beneath all the steel and honor.
Note:
I came across a similar NSFW Alphabet for Boromir on AO3, and noticed that under Dirty Secret it mentioned multiple encounters with Aragorn. While I respect different interpretations, I personally don’t ship Aragorn/Boromir — and in my version, this pairing is not part of Boromir’s story. I follow a different take on his character, one that aligns with a different kind of intimacy, background, and emotional truth.
AO3
A = Aftercare (what he likes to do after sex) Boromir is a mix of rugged strength and quiet tenderness. He doesn’t let go right away — he likes to hold his partner close, stroke her hair or back, often keeping one hand resting on her chest, as if to silently say, “Mine.”
He rarely talks in these moments, preferring the language of touch. But inside, his mind is a storm of questions: “Did she enjoy it?” “Was it too much?” “Should I keep going?”
He loves the feeling of closeness — slow kisses that stretch on and on. At first deep and heated, then softer, gentler, until the final ones are barely brushes of lips, as if he can’t bear to break the connection. If the world allowed it, he could lie like that forever, holding her in silence.
He makes sure she’s comfortable: gets her something to drink, pulls the blanket over her if it’s cold. But he doesn’t fall asleep easily — the habit of staying alert never quite leaves him, even in moments like this.
B = Body Part (favorite body part) On himself: His chest and shoulders. He knows they’re broad and powerful — and he takes pride in that. He feels his strength most vividly when he’s holding his partner close, carrying them, or pinning them beneath him.
On his partner: Hands. He loves being touched, gripped, clawed at in the heat of passion. When his partner digs their nails into his skin or clutches him tightly, it drives him wild.
C = Cum Boromir is a man who likes control. He’s not the type to finish quickly — he knows how to hold back, how to bring both himself and his partner to the edge and keep them there until the tension crests and crashes in perfect unison.
He prefers to finish inside. For him, it’s not just physical — it’s intimate, instinctual, almost sacred. The act speaks to legacy, to connection, to the raw closeness of shared breath and heat. He wants to feel her body taking him in fully, to be surrounded by that warmth even in the final moments.
If the moment calls for something else — if she asks, if they’re experimenting — he’ll finish on her belly or mound, but it’s never his first choice. Firstly, he doesn’t like the mess. Seed on the skin feels misplaced to him, almost wrong. It belongs either within himself or within her — anything else feels like a disruption of the natural order. Secondly, it distances him from the moment. Without that final deep joining, without her muscles clenching around him, it feels incomplete.
But what turns him on most isn’t the release itself — it’s her reaction. The way her body trembles, the sharp catch in her breath, the small involuntary sounds she makes when she feels him inside — that’s when he knows he has her fully, utterly, and completely.
D = Dirty Secret He sometimes fantasizes about sex in partial armor — leaving on a few leather straps or a piece of his gear. The clash of steel and flesh, the primitive edge it adds, the way it highlights his strength — it all feeds something dark and primal inside him.
But he would never bring it up first. If his partner makes the move, hints at it, he’s more than willing — but he’ll never be the one to initiate.
E = Experience He’s experienced, but not promiscuous. In Gondor, pre-marital relations — even for men — are frowned upon, and he’s not one for flings.
Still, he knows what he’s doing. He listens to his partner’s body, pays attention, and takes his time. He’s not spoiled, not jaded, but he’s attentive and intuitive.
And if his partner wants to explore something new — he’s open to learning, as long as it feels natural and doesn’t go against his instincts. His pleasure is rooted in giving, in closeness, and in mutual desire — not performance for the sake of novelty.
F = Favourite Position Boromir loves positions that give him full control without sacrificing closeness. His favorites are the ones where he can see his partner’s face, read every reaction, and hold them close. The classic missionary — her body beneath his — or lying on their sides, where he can easily caress her and keep her pressed to him, are what he truly enjoys.
But it’s not just about eye contact. For him, being able to kiss is essential. Kissing is the thread that ties the whole act together — deep, slow, lingering kisses that pull him into the moment and keep him there. Without them, the intimacy feels broken.
That’s why he absolutely refuses any position that takes that closeness away — especially doggy style. Taking a woman from behind, like some brothel whore? Unthinkable to him. Even if she enjoys it, even if it’s brought up again and again — his answer will always be a quiet but firm “no.”
When she’s on top, it’s mostly for her. He likes watching her move, watching the pleasure take over her face — but it’s not ideal for him. He rarely reaches climax that way. It’s more about prolonging the moment, letting her lead, and giving her all the space she needs to enjoy herself. He loves seeing her unrestrained, feeling her take control — but deep down, he’ll always prefer to be the one setting the rhythm.
G = Goofy Boromir is generally serious in bed — just as he is in life. But with trust and comfort, he can loosen up. If they get tangled in clothing, someone stumbles, or a dramatic strip turns awkward — he doesn’t freeze or get flustered. Instead, he might huff a short laugh under his breath and press on with even more enthusiasm, like the messiness excites him.
But there’s one thing he can’t joke about — losing his erection. Even if it’s brief and he recovers quickly, the simple fact that his body betrayed him gnaws at him. He may continue, but he won’t be relaxed. His expression tightens, his movements sharpen — like he’s trying to wrest control of the moment back from himself.
If the problem lingers but the desire remains, his hands turn desperate — gripping her thighs, her waist, her back with almost obsessive heat, like he’s pleading with his body to respond. He’ll run his palms over her skin, breathe her in like she’s the answer — and try again. But even if he succeeds, there will be a flicker of self-directed frustration in his eyes.
If she’s able to gently reassure him, he might calm down. If not — he’ll carry that moment with him through the rest of the night.
H = Hair (Hi @emmathefanficgal , we talked about this letter earlier, and I promised to share my take on it — so here it is! 😅) Thanks to his Númenórean blood, Boromir’s facial hair grows a little differently — barely anything on his cheeks, but his beard is thick, dark, and well-kept. He takes pride in it, believes a man should look groomed. After all, who wants the sting of post-shave stubble? A neat beard is far better than irritating scratch.
His arms and legs are naturally hairy — as expected from a man of his world. His pubic hair is also untouched. Grooming down there isn’t something he even considers — in his culture, and in his sense of masculinity, that would be unnecessary at best.
As for his chest? Barely any hair at all. A few light strands, maybe, but that’s it. He doesn’t think much of it — his body is what it is, and he sees no reason to change it.
He’s a man of a harsh world, where function comes before vanity — and his attitude toward body hair reflects that.
I = Intimacy Boromir is a sensual lover, but he expresses emotion through action, not words. His affection is felt in the way he holds his partner — how long he keeps her close after, how deeply he kisses her, as if trying to steal a piece of her breath and keep it for himself.
He rarely speaks sweet nothings, but his gestures say everything. A slow trace of his fingers along her skin. The way he goes still just to listen to her heartbeat. How he buries his nose in her hair and breathes in like he’s trying to memorize her with every sense.
He’s especially tender when it comes to her comfort. If he senses tension, he’ll pause to slide a pillow under her head or support her gently. He treats her like something delicate, almost sacred — with a carefulness you wouldn’t expect from a warrior his size. Don’t let such beauty break, the thought flickers through his mind more often than he’d admit.
J = Jack Off Boromir is a man of action, not fantasy. Masturbation isn’t a ritual or habit for him — it’s a release, something natural. If he has a partner, he’ll always choose her over his own hand. But if the desire builds and there’s no one to share it with, he won’t deny himself.
Most often, it happens in moments of extreme tension — after battle, on the road, when exhaustion and adrenaline blur into hunger. It’s physical, instinctual — his body’s way of shedding the weight of stress.
Sometimes it helps him reset. When something frustrates him, when his temper flares — this simple act brings him back to himself. But it’s never about fantasy or indulgence. Just need, met quietly.
K = Kink
Power & Control Boromir needs to lead — to feel that he’s guiding the rhythm. But it’s not about dominance through force. What excites him is knowing she gives in out of trust, not fear. He craves the way she clings to him, how her nails dig into his skin, how her body yields and responds to his. Her reaction fuels him like nothing else.
Scent Scent stirs something primal in him. Not perfumes — her. Her natural warmth, the faintest musk of her skin after a bath or sleep. That quiet, misty scent makes his blood rush. He buries his face in her neck, her hair, inhaling as if he could burn the memory into his lungs.
Boots & Riding Gear Her riding boots drive him mad. Soft, high leather hugging her calves — the way they shape her legs, hinting at strength and grace. And because he most often sees them when she’s in the saddle, that image becomes inescapably tied to his desire.
When she’s on horseback, in those boots, wearing her riding cloak with slits at the sides — he’s undone. He imagines her wearing only those boots and that cloak, no skirt beneath. If she came to him like that, he wouldn’t speak. He’d just look. Let the need consume him. Then take her — wordlessly, urgently.
Climax Touch At the height of release, his instinct is always the same — bury his face in her neck and breathe her in. It’s reflexive. He needs that closeness, her warmth, her scent in his lungs.
He also loves interlacing their fingers — feeling her squeeze his hand, sensing her pleasure through her grip. That single touch makes it all feel deeper, as if what they’re sharing goes beyond just flesh — into something sacred.
L = Location Boromir is a man used to the hardships of travel, but when it comes to intimacy, he values comfort. He prefers a bed: soft, warm, and reliable. There, nothing distracts him. He can fully focus on his partner, knowing they’re safe, undisturbed.
Yet there’s something primal in him, a wild call that sometimes makes him yearn for something different. He’s drawn to places where he can feel nature around them — by a fire on a chilly night, in a forest, a tent, or even a stable, where the smell of wood and warm hay mingles with their breath. The feeling of cool air, the scent of rain, the crackle of fire — it heightens everything.
Still, that’s more fantasy than habit. Finding a place that can accommodate his size and give them privacy isn’t easy. Sure, he’d try sex outdoors if the moment was right. But if he could choose, nothing beats her bed. Her bed isn’t just about comfort — it’s about trust, peace, belonging. There, he can let go of war, duty, and all thoughts of tomorrow. There, he feels at home.
M = Motivation His biggest trigger is the need to protect — and to possess. Seeing his partner reach for him, seeking his warmth, his strength, ignites a deep, primal desire.
But the real switch is the idea of claiming. If he so much as thinks about leaving a mark, about making her the mother of his children — he hardens instantly. That thought alone is enough to undo him, even if things were only meant to stay playful.
N = NO Doggy style. Not just a position to him, but a symbol — one he rejects. It turns the woman into something used, faceless. He needs to see her, touch her, feel the full intimacy of the moment.
Humiliation. He won’t tolerate it — not toward himself, and never toward his partner. He can dominate, yes, but only if it comes with trust, not degradation. And he would never allow himself to be treated with disrespect in turn.
Faking it. If he senses she’s pretending — fake moans, forced responses, doing things just to please him — the fire dies instantly. He picks up on dishonesty fast, and it ruins everything for him.
Public play. A hard no. Sex is too personal for him to turn it into performance. The thought of someone hearing or seeing them doesn’t excite him — it repels him. He wants total focus on his partner, without fear or shame.
Receiving oral. A blowjob, to him, feels degrading — for her. He won’t accept it, won’t ask for it. He sees it as dirty and undignified. And yet… kissing her between her thighs? That, to him, is sacred. Somehow, he doesn’t see it the same way. Perhaps it’s a contradiction, but it’s real — in his mind, those acts are worlds apart.
O = Oral Giving:
Here, Boromir has no doubts or restrictions. He loves to kiss, to feel skin under his lips, to trail his tongue along sensitive places while watching how his partner reacts. To him, it’s not just foreplay — it’s another way to fully connect, to give her pleasure, to witness her trust bloom under his hands.
The first time he kissed her lower lips, he hadn’t expected to enjoy it this much. He’s utterly captivated by her response — how she softens under his touch, lets him lift and part her thighs, accepting him fully. To him, it’s not just an act of desire, but of devotion.
He’s intuitive — he can sense what she wants, and often teases, slowing down intentionally until she’s writhing beneath him, begging for more. And in that moment, he locks eyes with her, as if reading every flicker of emotion, absorbing her pleasure until she unravels completely.
Receiving:
This one’s trickier. Boromir believes oral sex — on him — is degrading and dirty for her. But deep down, that belief is more inherited than self-formed. Something heard, seen, or impressed upon him earlier, not something he’s really thought through.
This block in his head may not be permanent. With enough trust, affection, and clear desire from his partner — if she wants it, not out of duty but out of joy — it could shake his foundations. He doesn’t get turned on by the act itself so much as by her eagerness to be close to him in that way. If he sees her enjoying it? That could undo him entirely.
However, even in such a case, there’s one unbreakable rule: only after bathing. Boromir is pragmatic. No matter how passionate he may be, he won’t consider oral without absolute cleanliness. If the moment isn’t right, the thought makes him more awkward than aroused.
P = Pace
He’s not the type to rush headlong into passion. Boromir always starts slow — almost lazily — as if waiting, letting her adjust, feel him fully. His initial thrusts are gentle, exploratory, letting her set the rhythm. If she moves faster, he follows. But he never hurries.
As arousal builds, so does his intensity. His movements grow stronger, more deliberate — but still controlled. He tunes into every reaction, every shift in her breath or muscles. Sometimes he’ll slow down again on purpose, drawing out the moment, edging her until she’s nearly begging for release.
But when his own climax nears, his control starts to fray. His thrusts become quick, shallow, body taut with tension. His rhythm falls apart — no longer smooth or measured, but raw and driven by pure need.
When he comes, he continues to move — slow, deep thrusts — drawing out the feeling. Then he stills, staying inside her for several long seconds. He wants to feel her around him, clenching, pulsing, warm. It’s in that stillness he finally lets go — no battles, no duty, no fear. Just her. Her breath, her warmth. And the sense that, for a moment, he belongs wholly to something beyond himself.
Q = Quickie
If there are no other options and it’s the only release available, Boromir won’t refuse. But in his ideal world, intimacy should be done “with care, purpose, and depth” — not rushed, but slowly, so he can truly savor his partner.
Ideally, he prefers to be fed, rested, and unhurried. Rushing kills the beauty of the act for him, so he always favors long, deliberate moments of connection over quick flings.
R = Risk
He’s used to taking risks on the battlefield, but in bed, he’s rather conservative. Stepping outside the familiar isn’t something he actively seeks — he finds deep satisfaction in intimacy itself and the trust that comes with it.
He rarely initiates experiments himself, simply because he doesn’t feel the need. However, if his partner brings it up, he won’t dismiss it. He’ll listen carefully, think it through, and if it feels right, he’ll try — but only with full seriousness and intention.
S = Stamina
Boromir has impressive stamina — he can hold back for a long time, carefully controlling the pace, taking his partner right to the edge before letting himself go.
If he feels he’s close to climax while his partner isn’t there yet, he’ll stop rather than finish too early. In such moments, they might lie together while he shakes, gripping at random parts of her body, trying to steady himself and not fall into the abyss of release too soon.
These touches aren’t soft, like afterglow caresses — they’re frantic, needy, as if he’s trying to anchor himself. He especially tends to grope her breasts or stroke her mound, as if trying to resist, even though each touch makes it harder to hold on.
T = Toy
He’s not particularly interested in toys — he prefers using his hands, his body, and raw passion. Of course, in Middle-earth, the concept of toys is practically nonexistent, but he’s discovered he really enjoys sex with a blindfold — it heightens sensation, turning the moment into something more intense and immersive.
Immobilization also excites him, but never with force — more like pinning her wrists or gently restricting movement, just enough for her to surrender to the moment.
He absolutely refuses anything that causes pain. Spanking, hitting, harsh punishments — these are hard nos. The idea of violence, even in play, repels him. If his partner asked for such things, he’d decline firmly but kindly.
U = Unfair (Teasing)
He can tease intentionally, especially if he’s in a playful or dominant mood — slowing down just to hear her beg, drawing out the tension until she’s trembling. He enjoys the buildup, not to be cruel, but to make the eventual release that much more powerful.
At the same time, he loves when she turns the tables — when she teases him until he loses all control. After such nights, his partner might find bruises from his grip or dark marks from his mouth — and he never quite knows how to feel about them. Part of him feels guilty, but another part is secretly thrilled. They’re proof of just how deeply the moment took him — and that thought excites him all over again.
V = Volume (Sounds)
Boromir doesn’t stay silent, but he’s not loud either. His sounds are deep, restrained rumbles — heavy breathing, low, almost vibrating groans that only escape him at the height of tension. Sometimes, he’ll hold his breath for a few seconds before letting out a harsh, controlled exhale, as if trying to keep himself in check.
He’s not fond of loud moaning from his partner — it feels theatrical, artificial, too over-the-top. But soft, suppressed sounds — especially when she tries not to make a sound — drive him insane. If he feels her tense beneath him, biting her lip to stay quiet, he’ll slow down even more, going deeper, savoring every twitch and tremble until she simply can’t keep silent anymore.
When he nears climax, his breathing becomes ragged, his chest heaving — and sometimes, at the peak, a single, torn groan breaks free. Not a moan, not a cry, but a sharp, low exhale filled with the raw power of release.
W = Wild Card (Random headcanon)
After a battle, his adrenaline spikes so high he becomes ravenous and insatiable.
He might barge into his partner’s chambers without waiting for the right moment — unwashed, still slick with sweat, the scent of steel and blood clinging to his skin. Or he might grab her right there in the armory, driven by nothing but primal need.
Normally, he’s the master of control — taught from boyhood to restrain his voice, his strength, his emotions. Especially sound. Any creak of a bedframe, rustling curtain, or distant footstep puts him on edge. Even in perfect safety, his senses are tuned to listen — always translating noise into threat or no threat.
He doesn’t “lose himself” easily.
She comes first. He only takes when he’s sure he can give.
But… there are exceptions.
When she pushes him — slowly, deliberately, with that smile of hers. When she arches her back just so, pretending not to know what it does to him. When she moans — just once — in that particular way that breaks something inside him.
Sometimes he’s held back too long.
And then — to hell with caution.
He grabs her tighter. His hands become possessive.
If she’s angled wrong — he’ll fix it. With his hands. With force. He’ll place her where she needs to be.
He might mutter an apology, half-laughing, half-pleading: “Just… I need this. Say I’ve earned it — please.”
And after?
Silence. Heat. He buries his face in her neck, breathing hard, holding her like she’s the only solid thing in a burning world.
She is his peace. And his madness. All at once.
X = X-Ray (Size)
Let’s just say… Boromir does not disappoint. Everything is proportional to his broad, powerful frame — not a giant, but that perfect balance between impressive and comfortable.
He’s not the kind to overwhelm with sheer size, but far from average. At rest, there’s not much difference — but once things get going, his presence and strength become impossible to ignore.
Y = Yearning (Libido)
Boromir’s libido is moderate — but when he desires someone, it becomes an obsession. He knows how to keep control, but the desire doesn’t fade; it simmers, building slowly until it consumes him from the inside out.
Sometimes, it strikes at the worst possible times. He might be sitting in a council, listening to talks of war strategy, but his thoughts are nowhere near Gondor’s politics. Frustration brews — because right now, his priorities lie elsewhere.
When is he most in the mood?
🔹 Midday — this is his peak energy. If he could choose the perfect time, it would be during the day. Responsibilities often get in the way, but if there’s a rare break? A quickie becomes a very appealing option.
🔹 Evening — when there’s no rush, when the world is quiet. If neither of them is too tired, it’s the perfect way to end the day — slow, unhurried, deeply present.
🔹 Morning — he’s not opposed, especially if she initiates. But he hates getting up early. If there are duties ahead, it’s hard to balance sex and proper rest. So he’s on board… as long as morning starts late and there’s no need to hurry.
Z = ZZZ (Sleep)
Boromir never falls asleep right away — not even after the most intense night. He stays close, running his fingers along her skin, savoring every moment. He kisses her for a long time, touches her gently, soaking in the closeness until he’s finally at peace.
But before he allows himself to drift off, his sense of order kicks in. First, the mess — clothes that were tossed aside get folded, any obvious signs of their night are quietly cleaned up. Not immediately, of course — only after he’s had his fill of cuddles and kisses. Then comes water — a quick wash, a freshened face, the need to feel clean before rest. And finally, a mental checklist: is everything ready for tomorrow?
By the time he’s done with his routine, she’s usually fast asleep. He’ll gently tuck her in, slide into bed beside her, and wrap himself around her.
And may the Valar help him if he wakes her.
Because if she opens her eyes, she’ll start biting, licking, demanding attention — and he’ll be too far gone to stop her.
Could I please request 🍷 for something smutty with Ned Stark? Thank youu!
Absolutely!! And, I know i've been promising smut, this isn't full smut. Just sort of, the lead up to it? Idk. Hope you like it tho :3 🫶
🍷 — A Short Drabble
synopsis: replying to a raven was what your husband was supposed to be doing, but after tugging you into his lap, his hand begins to wander.
tw: smutish 18+, fingering (f receiving), low dialogue, light power dynamics? Honestly this isn't truly bad.
Ned’s study was bathed in a soft glow of orange as the hearth fire burned low. The paned windows were drawn shut, yet you could still feel the breeze breaking through the cracks of the stone walls. You must have shivered from the spot beside his desk where you stood because Ned took no hesitation of snaking an arm around your waist and drawing you into his lap.