knight time

abhi | any pronouns | lesbian fantasy writer THIS BLOG IS 18+ MDNI @scannainscanrula sideblog

[shootingelm]

SHOOTINGELM MASTERLIST

A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS

SER DUNCAN THE TALL

makes his lady feverish (blurb)

rugby!dunk au

all over me (read on ao3)

pledge your fealty (read on AO3)

modern!dunk

blue dream (read on AO3)

blacksheep99 on AO3

jack o'connell mainblog scannainscanrula

[lulalulens]

Your man.

[cinepsychedelic]

A knight and the holy grail or whatever the shows called

[shootingelm]

well met readers!! my longer dunk fics are available on my ao3 page for anyone who prefers reading on there!!

[lulalulens]

The fallen dragon

[captainfern]

reader rubbing herself on dunk’s tits what who said that

genuinely this got me goinggg

18+ (smut, riding, dunk being dunk, what the ask says)

he didn’t question it. one second, you were whining and running your hands all over his bare chest, still damp with river water. you squeezed at his biceps, then his pectorals, then ran your hands down the soft muscle of his abdomen until you could rub your palm against the line of hair beneath his navel.

the next second, you were pushing him down onto the shingled riverbank and clambering onto him, your pussy bare to the cool afternoon air. dunk did what he was instructed, simply laying still with his tunic balled beneath his head, his large hands finding the curve of your hips.

“oh, dunk,” you whisper as you finally straddle his chest, pussy wet where you part your thighs to fit around his mass. you wobble a little as you lower yourself, and the slick folds of your cunt find the corded fat of his pec. you mewl, the contact firm against your puffy clit. “ah, dunk, oh gods.”

his blue eyes are wide and watery and he stares up at you like he wants to give you the world. his hands are tight on your hips as you buck, another high-pitched whine falling from between your parted lips as you fall forward, bracketing his head with your arms. your tits swing low above his face as you arch down, dragging your clit against his chest until you’re breathless.

“dunk,” you call to him again, rutting your hips against the curve of his pectoral muscles. it’s soft but firm, splitting the folds of your pussy apart, slick drooling from you as you slide. you’re warm, and dunk groans low in his throat at the sensation of your ichor dripping from you, down the slant of his chest. you pant as you grind yourself down onto him. “feels so good, dunk.”

dunk blinks up at you, his cock twitching against his thigh, tip wet as you rock yourself against him. he kneads the fat at your hip between calloused fingers, and it takes the power of the gods for him not to force you down against him himself.

“you’re so warm,” is all dunk can think to say, eyes darting from your face to your pussy. you slide perfectly against his chest, slick glistening through the tawny hairs that grow from his pale skin. he groans deeply when you grind yourself even deeper, clit pushing along muscle. “an’ she’s so wet… so wet, sweetheart.”

you mewl, a desperate keen as you shift your hips. the sound of your cunt, slick and warm against his chest, is nearly louder than the running river nearby. that makes dunk’s ears burn bright red, a blush high on his cheeks as he takes one hand from your hip and cups one of your tits. you hum, pleased, as he palms the flesh while you ride him.

“needed this so bad,” you tell him, panting as heat winds down your spine, seeping in between your vertebrae. it leaks into your belly when you angle yourself deeper against him. “needed you so bad, dunk.”

his cock is hard now, hanging thick between the mass of his thighs. your words make him groan, cock jerking untouched behind you, as he continues to massage the mounds of your tits with one hand, the other on your hip.

“love your chest,” you continue, lips parted as your thighs begin to ache, a warm pressure pushing at the front of your pelvis. “love how strong you are. love your arms, an’ your legs, and your tummy…”

you sit up a little and dunk drops his hand from your breasts. still grinding yourself against the curve of his pectoral, you angle an arm back to palm at the soft muscle at his navel. dunk chokes on a groan at the fleeting touch, before you’re leaning back over him again and rubbing your puffy clit against the swell of his muscle. you’re practically gliding now, slick wet across his skin and hair.

“love your cock too,” you add as you chase your high. it lingers in front of you as the pressure builds, your legs trembling as your rocking increases. “y’so big, dunk. so big but always so—fuck, s—ah—so g-gentle.”

dunk moans, the hand that had been at your chest wrapping behind you now. he takes his cock, velvet skin burning hot, between his fingers and holds himself firm. he hisses, other hand forcing you tighter against his chest. you let out a breathy, whiny sound as your clit catches something just right, angles against him so perfectly, that you forget about the ache building in your thighs.

“wanna come on you,” you whine, lifting yourself so you can place your hands on the thickly corded muscle of his shoulders as you rut yourself along his chest. the pressure in your pelvis, the heat in the base of your spine, is nearly unbearable and you call for him as you start to tremble. “dunk, wanna come.”

dunk nods, whining with his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he watches, eyes shining, as you begin to come apart above him. he manages out a quiet, “please, sweetheart, please,” as you grind a last few circles against him, before the pressure snaps and the heat overwhelms you.

you cry out, arms shaking as you hold yourself up, hips stuttering as your orgasm crests in your nerves. dunk’s hand guides you through it, dragging you along the muscle, his chest heaving as he listens to you come undone above him. he moans, cock jerking in his hand, balls drawing tight as he spills across his knuckles while your rocking slows.

your pussy, slick and warm, buzzes with the friction as you lift your hips. strings of slick connect your folds with the curve of his muscles, and he watches with glossy eyes and pink cheeks as the strings snap. he groans, throaty and broken around a whimper of your name, as his cock gives one last wet twitch before he lets it soften back against his thigh.

“so good, dunk,” you murmur, lifting yourself until you were straddling his head, thighs bracketing all plush and warm. dunk sucks in a deep breath, groaning as you lower your wet cunt to his face. “but… s’just so messy.”

“i’ll help you,” he whispers, and you almost don’t hear him as you lower yourself to his mouth, the line of his nose finding the swollen bead of your clit, his tongue splitting your folds as one of your hands shoots down to thread through his hair. he groans when you tug.

you whine in return, rutting your hips against his face in chase of another orgasm, your entire body alight with burning pleasure on the shingled bank of the river.

[louloucake]

tell me how to do it .⋆♱

trailertrash!daeron x reader

-18+, unprotected sex (p in v), dirty talk, oral sex f receiving, light spanking, power dynamics, messy/sloppy sex annnnddd semi-public sex (established casual relationship!!) mention of masturbation and ofc cum play! sorry ab any misspellings xoxo!!!

the sun beat down on the scrap yard, turning the air hazy and thick with the smell of hot metal and gasoline. you were laid out on the worn bed of daeron's pickup truck, a faded beach towel the only barrier between your bare skin and the sun-baked metal. the heat was a physical weight, pressing down on you, making your skin slick with sweat.

underneath you, daeron was a symphony of clanking tools and muttered curses. he was trying to fix the goddamn transmission again, his lower half disappearing into the greasy guts of the truck. all you could see were his worn-out jeans and the worn-out soles of his boots. you could hear him, though. the grunt of exertion as he wrestled with a rusted bolt, the long swallow of beer you knew he was taking, the way he'd occasionally smack the underside of the truck with a wrench in frustration.

"fuckin' piece of shit," he grumbled from below. there was another loud clang followed by a hissed, "motherfucker."

you heard another crack of metal before daeron slid himself out from beneath the truck, grease smeared across his cheek and sweat dampening the collar of his white shirt.

"you got any more beer up there?"

you reached blindly into the cooler beside you. "depends."

"depends on what?"

"how nice you ask."

he stared at you flatly for a second. "give me the fuckin' beer please."

you pretended to think about it before tossing one toward him and daeron caught it one-handed. he quickly popped the cap open and took a long drink before sniffing and nodding his head toward you. “y’wanna help me down here for a second?”

you sighed, shifting on the towel. "it's too hot, daeron."

he squinted at you, a familiar, soft look in his eyes. he was always looking at you like that, like a stray dog that'd just been invited inside for the first time.

"want me to get you somethin' to cool down, honey?" he asked, his voice a low, rough drawl. "there's a gas station right across the street."

"sure okay," you said, closing your eyes. "something cold please…"

you heard him wipe his hands on his jeans, the heavy thud of his shoes hitting the gravel, and then the sound of his footsteps crunching away. a moment of blissful silence settled over the scrap yard, broken only by the buzz of flies and the distant rumble of traffic on the highway. it was almost peaceful.

he was back a few minutes later, the crunch of his boots announcing his return. you opened your eyes to see him standing over you, holding out a drippy, rapidly melting soft-serve ice cream cone. it was a sad-looking thing, already drooping over the side of the cone.

"here you go," he said, "vanilla. they didn’ have anythin’ else."

you sat up, taking the cone from him. the ice cream was already starting to run down your fingers, sticky and sweet. you looked at his expectant face, at the grease smudge on his cheek, at the way his t-shirt clung to his chest. he was trying so hard.

"thanks," you said, and then, a few drops melted right from your lips to your exposed chest. a shiver went through you as the cold hit your hot skin, a trail of sticky white cream tracing a path between your breasts.

daeron stared, his gaze fixed on the melting ice cream on your tits.

"can i have some?" he asked, his voice thick.

you held the cone out to him. "here."

he didn't take it. instead, he leaned down, his breath hot on your skin, and then his tongue was on you. he licked the melting ice cream off your chest, his tongue rough and wet against your skin. he made obscene, sloppy sounds, like he was a starving man and you were his last meal. it was gross. it was pathetic. it was so incredibly daeron.

"ewww!" you shrieked, pushing him away. "that's disgusting!"

he just laughed, a low, rumbling sound, his eyes still glued to your chest, a smear of white on his lips. "it's good ice cream."

you wiped at the sticky trail on your chest with the back of your hand, but it only smeared the melted vanilla around, making you feel even dirtier. "you're a animal," you said, but there was no real heat in it. it was just a statement of fact, like saying the sky was blue or his truck was a piece of shit.

daeron just grinned, that same dopey, hopeful grin. he wiped his mouth with the back of his own greasy hand. "y’always say you love animals," he said grinning.

before you could form a comeback, he straightened up and turned his attention back to his project. "alright, let's see if this bitch'll turn over now."

he disappeared back under the truck, and the symphony of clanging and grunting began again as you finished up your ice cream. you sighed, sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the truck bed, your bare feet dangling just above the gravel.

"is it fixed yet?" you called down to him.

"almost!" came the muffled reply.

there was a final, deafening clang, followed by a string of curses that would make a sailor blush. then, silence. you held your breath, waiting. a moment later, you heard the click of him getting into the driver's seat.

he turned the key.

the engine sputtered, coughed, and then, with a roar that shook the entire truck, it roared to life.

daeron's head appeared over the side of the truck bed, his face split in a wide, triumphant grin. he was sweating and covered in grease, but his eyes were shining. "told you i could fix it," he said.

he slammed the driver's side door shut and strode around to the back of the truck, his boots crunching on the gravel with a new confidence. before you could even slide off the tailgate, his hands were on you, one wrapping around your waist and the other hooking behind your knees. he lifted you like you weighed nothing, your legs automatically wrapping around his grease-stained waist. the worn denim of his jeans was rough against the backs of your thighs.

"ready to go home?" he asked, his voice low and rumbling against your chest.

"mmhmm," you hummed, your arms draping over his shoulders. the victory radiating off him was intoxicating, a potent mix of sweat, gasoline, and pure, unadulterated pride.

he carried you the few steps to the back door, yanking it open. he maneuvered you inside, laying you down on the cracked vinyl seat.

the heat, the frustration, the sight of him so proud and capable- it all coalesced into a sudden, sharp ache low in your belly. you grabbed the front of his t-shirt, pulling him back down to you.

"its so hot daeron…" you muttered, and crashed your mouth against his.

he met your kiss with a desperate hunger, his lips tasting of cheap beer and lingering vanilla. it was a sloppy, messy kiss, all teeth and tongue, exactly the kind you needed. his hands were everywhere, one tangling in your hair, the other sliding down your side to grip your hip, pulling you flush against him.

he broke the kiss, panting, his eyes dark. he didn't ask, he just took, dipping his head down to mouth at your chest through the thin fabric of your tank top. he found your nipple, biting down gently through the material before pulling it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the peak until it was a hard, sensitive nub.

"daeron," you breathed, arching into him.

he growled in response, his hand sliding up under your tank top to palm your other breast, his calloused thumb rubbing rough circles over your nipple. he gave your ass a sharp smack, the sound loud in the close confines of the cab. you gasped, bucking your hips against the hard ridge in his jeans.

"fuck, you're so pretty," he grunted, lifting his head to look at you, his pupils blown wide with lust. he yanked your bikini top up, exposing your breasts to the warm air. he stared for a moment, his gaze hungry, before diving back down, his mouth closing over one peaked nipple while his hand continued its rough assault on the other. he sucked hard, his tongue flicking and teasing, his other hand fumbling with the button of your shorts.

you helped him, shoving your bikini bottoms down your hips. he wasted no time, his fingers finding you instantly, sliding through your slick folds. you were so wet, so ready for him, and he groaned against your breast when he felt it.

you sat up enough to switch positions with him. straddling him, your knees sinking into the cracked seat on either side of his hips. "all that grunting and groaning like a fucking pig? you can do better than that, can't you, daeron?"

his eyes widened, a flicker of his uncertainty returning. "i…i don't know…"

"oh, you know," you cut him off, grinding your hips down against him. "you think about it, don't you? when you're all alone, jacking off in the shower. you think about me? tell me what you think?"

his breath hitched, his hands coming up to grip your hips. "i think about… fuck," he breathed, his eyes rolling back as you rolled your hips again. "i think about how tight you are. how you squeeze my cock when you come."

"yeah?" you purred, leaning down to bite his lower lip.

"i wanna taste you everywhere. wanna put my mouth on you 'til you're screaming my name. wanna lick this fuckin' mess i made out of you."

you smiled sweetly, you shifted up his body, positioning your knees on either side of his head, looking down at his flushed, eager face. "yhen do it," you commanded. "you got me all wet, clean up your mess."

he didn't hesitate. his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you down onto his waiting mouth. his tongue was hot and demanding, lapping at you with a desperate hunger. he ate you like he was starving, like your taste was the only thing that could save him. he was sloppy and loud and utterly shameless, his moans vibrating against your most sensitive skin.

his movements becoming more frantic. "tastes so fuckin' good. best thing i ever tasted." he slurred against you.

you rode his face, using him, chasing your own release. he was a mess beneath you, his face slick, his hair damp with sweat, but he was exactly what you needed in that moment.

you gasped, your orgasm building fast and hard. he redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking against your clit with a precision that surprised you. and then you were coming, your body shaking, a cry tearing from your throat as you ground down against his mouth.

you stayed there for a moment, catching your breath, before sliding back down his body. his cock was rock hard, straining against his jeans. you unzipped him as quickly as you could and helped him pull his leaking throbbing length out and before he could say a word you sank down onto him, taking him in to the hilt in one smooth motion.

he hissed, his hands flying to your waist. "fuck, honey, you're gonna kill me."

"you're gonna fuck me," you corrected him, leaning forward to brace your hands on his chest. "and you're gonna tell me every dirty thing you've ever thought about doing to me while you do it."

he didn't need any more encouragement. he started to move, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. "wanna fuck you in my bed," he panted, his eyes locked on yours. "wanna wake up with you. wanna bend you over the kitchen counter and fuck you from behind while you're makin' coffee."

"keep talking daeron," you demanded, riding him hard.

"wanna tie you up," he groaned, his thrusts getting deeper, harder. "wanna spank your ass 'til it's red. wanna come all over your tits and then lick it off."

"you're such a pervert" you moaned, your head falling back.

"only for you," he choked out. "a nasty fuckin' whore for you, honey. gonna fill you up now. you want that? you want my fuckin' cum?"

"yes!" you cried, your second orgasm already building.

he leaned up, his mouth finding yours again in another sloppy, desperate kiss. his hand slid down your body, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight, messy circles that sent you flying over the edge. you cried out against his mouth, your body convulsing around him as your orgasm washed over you.

"please, please give me your cum. fill me up…”

he came with a guttural shout, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside you.

you collapsed onto his chest, both of you panting and spent. the cab of the truck was thick with the smell of sex and sweat, the windows completely fogged over. after a moment, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight.

"youre right its really fuckin’ hot in here" he murmured into your hair.

you just laughed, a breathless, exhausted sound. "take me home, daeron."

[jlogansbimbo]

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

Dunk likes when you scratch his chest during sex.

His arms are fine, maybe some nail marks on his thighs. But his chest…

Gods it drives him crazy, bringing his eyes down and all those scratches on him like he’d been attacked by a bear.

He gets so turned on, fucking you senseless on the bed and all you can do is grab onto his chest while you squirm below him.

He loves the pain, the neediness, and your moans of desperation. Loves holding on to your wrist tightly against his chest so your nails stay digging into his skin.

His chest is so broad, it feels like a tiny pinch so it’s nothing to him. But he enjoys the pain and how you keep scratching the shit out of him.

And when you’re both cumming and in bliss, you’d feel so bad after and give the red scars some kisses. You’d try to heal them but Dunk wouldn’t let you, taking his time to pamper you after sex like the true knight he is

But Dunk fucking loves it, he shows it around like a badge of honor when he’s shirtless or fuel to get him off later when hes alone.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

[ladythedrunken]

this image sends me into early ovulation

[pinkdoeweirdo]

ser duncan the tall in love with you headcanons (sfw and nsfw)

cw: some nsfw, mdni 18+, afab!reader, fluff, mentions of kinks, breeding kink, mentions of sex, suggestive language

a/n: my first dunk post, kinda nervous. english is not my first language.

────୨ৎ────

♡ brings you flowers from the fields

♡ most of the time he is too shy to give them to you himself, so he leaves them somewhere for you to find every morning

♡ one of his ways of showing affection is doing literally anything you ask him or just mention. he will literally do anything he can for you and then say it’s not a big deal because he genuinely believes that

♡ carries everything for you and if you let him would carry you everywhere too

♡ he is not good with words but the way he looks at you is louder than any sweet confessions

♡ his jealousy is subtle and lowkey cute. he would just glare at the other man who occupied your attention and then try to win you over back by making you laugh or bringing you a pretty thing from the forest

♡ would literally die for you. more than once

♡ he asks Egg for advice on how to court properly and genuinely tries his best because he is very afraid of overstepping or disrespecting you accidentally

♡ he is very attentive to details when it’s you, so he remembers everything your favourite 

♡ loves when you ask him to do something for you and gets excited as a kid

♡ accidentally says something so blunt it sounds very inappropriate, and just stares at you, flustered by himself

♡ if you compliment him in any way, he just stands there dumbfounded, hoping it wasn’t a joke

♡ he is the happiest when you are laughing or happy yourself

♡ he is always aware that he is just a hedge knight and constantly reminds himself he isn’t marriage worthy, but you look up at him in such a way that makes him forget everything immediately

♡ he is so sweet, you literally melt at every awkward but genuine thing he says to you

♡ would sell everything he has just to buy you something he thought you might like 

♡ probably will never dare to kiss you first, despite dreaming about your touch every day and night, afraid to offend or scare you

♡ when he helps you mount a horse his hands always linger on your waist, as if he can't help it. it kills him internally every time, and he feels very bad after

♡ he blushes so easily, you can't help but tease him about it, making him blush even harder

♡ sometimes gets overly excited and accidentally overshares about how he sees your future, talking about marriage and kids with such happiness, it makes your heart melt, even though you are barely betrothed

♡ he is mortified when he realises he just said all this to you and starts apologising for pressuring you

♡ sometimes he relaxes and lets his thoughts wander to how it would feel to kiss you, to taste you, to press you under his weight or perch you up his massive frame. after, he can't even look you in the eyes for a few hours because he feels guilty

♡ stares at you any given moment he has, literally can’t help himself

♡ one time the naughty in him won and he peeked on you getting changed. it felt so good in the moment but so bad after that he immediately confessed to you of what happened, fully expecting you to never speak with him again

♡ and yes, dunk felt bad about it, but still stroked himself many nights to the memory of your naked form

♡ the man is oblivious. you can throw the most unhinged and perverted lines at him, and he will assume you are just being nice to him and feel even more guilty for even having a thought of something dirty

♡ confesses his feelings to you accidentally, dazed by the bliss of the happy moment of you laughing and smiling at him or hugging him, he just blurts out love you and looks at you in awe

♡ his kisses are inexperienced but all consuming, his big hands grip you tight, pulling you impossible close to him, his mouth literally devouring yours, making your knees week

♡ then pulls back with “you liked that?”. eyes full of genuine hope.

♡ he is completely unaware of the effect he has on you. every time it surprises him that you find him physically attractive, especially that you love how big he is. he melts and gets turned on simultaneously

♡ once he knows his love is mutual he becomes more confident in physical touch. scoops you up any moment he can, throws you over his shoulder when you are being bratty, pulls you in a big hug when you are upset, bends you over the nearest surface…

♡ he is very inexperienced but he is devoted to the task. once his hands are on you, he is locked in

♡ will ask "you sure?" hundred million times because he is terrified of hurting you

♡ has special relationship with your period. he is extra gentle, extra attentive, extra horny

♡ he still can't get used to the fact that you love him back, and every time he receives a peck on a cheek or, gods help, you climb into his lap, he is just watching you like a startled animal, thinking he is dreaming and it will end soon

♡ this man has the nastiest breeding kink ever. he definitely wants you to be the mother of his children but he also simply loves filling you up

♡ proud munch. you can’t stop him literally. would beg on his knees with “just little more, please, please, m’lady”

♡ his fav positions are headlock and cowgirl. having you fully under his body and watching you struggle to take him all in are his favourite things to watch

♡ dunk is a pleaser and he would literally do anything for you happily, he is the type of guy who on your ‘i love you’ answers with a shy smile and a ‘thank you’

[daenerys-stormborn]

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms + in memoriam:  Baelor 'Breakspear' Targaryen

[jenrubyjane]

A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS 1.01 The Hedge Knight

[rottenbites]

DUNCAN WHO FUCKS YOU IN A HEADLOCK

ooo this gentle giant … gimme that cookie right now

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry, m’lady. so fucking sorry.”

the position dunk had you in was brutalizing, your hands clawing at his forearm as he held you in a headlock, his other arm splayed across your stomach, pushing your back into his front. you both were kneeled on his bedroll, the fire light dancing across tree bark and soft grass as your moans echoed throughout the air.

duncan had pounced on you the second you came back from cleaning off in the stream, a little shy in the fact he watched the water trickle down your breasts as you washed yourself, yet unabashed in the way he fucked you relentless. his oversized cock split you in a half, each rut of his hips leaving you a whimpering and mewling mess.

“o-oh god,” you cried, dunk’s hold getting softer as gasps of air spit from your lips. all though he couldn’t help his desires, this was still dunk — your dunk, and he would never hurt you.

breath tickling your neck, duncan’s moans were loud in your ear, the sounds of his pleasure stirring you on further. you loved the way he fell apart, each fibre of his being submitting to you as he made his only goal to make you feel good.

“i swear on my honour,” dunk whispered, his voice coarse with pleasure. “that i will never hurt you. you’re my girl, okay? remember that.”

[luckieangel]

giving him head and looking up at him with big, soft eyes and he throws his head back in pleasure but also because he’ll cum right then and there if he stares at you for too long

[shootingelm]

⋆｡𖦹 ° blue dream 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

modern!duncan x reader wc: 3k warnings: drug use/smoking, slight intox, grinding, handjob, oral sex (both), piv sex, unprotected sex, light body worship (dunk is a tit man), hair pulling, very light dom/sub dynamics, sort of lyonel x reader also. there is something there

author's note: this isn't really meant to be rugby dunk but it could be. this was meant to be a 4/20 fic lol enjoy!

You guide Dunk through his first time getting high. Sponsored by Lyonel, of course.

You sit on your towel, watching Duncan emerge from the waves and walk over to you. His wet trunks cling to his thick thighs and you can see a familiar outline until he tugs on the front of them. Water drips from his pale skin. You can see his shoulders are more sunkissed, with freckles at the highest points. He blocks out the sun when he squints down at you.

“You should have some water,” you suggest. 

You offer your bottle, the cute one covered in stickers. He grins at you and takes it, sitting in the beach chair next to you. He takes a big gulp, water dribbling down to the hair in his chest. He passes the bottle back and you frown, only hearing a light sloshing sound. 

“You drank all of it!”

“Not all of it,” he says as he shrinks down. 

You roll your eyes, opening up your tote to search for your bottle of sunscreen. As you rustle through the items, a plastic jar falls to the front. 

“What’s that?” Dunk asks.

“Erm… Lyonel,” you start, hesitating, “might have given me some… weed.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes go wide and he fiddles with his hands. 

“Oh.”

Dunk is by no means straightedge. He always says Arlan liked his drinks, but he did not approve of any other substances. Lyonel and his party pills make Dunk squeamish– he was shocked the first time you took some when offered. He’s fine to bring you home and dodge your kisses, tucking you into bed and making sure you’re hydrated. 

You and Lyonel both know Dunk is curious, and when he slipped the jar into your bag last week he made his intentions very clear. 

“Get the lunk baked and… I don’t know, send me a video,” he suggests, running his tongue over his teeth like he does. “He’d look cute like that.”

You had your mission. And butterflies in your tummy. 

“We could have a little?” you suggest. “Maybe when we get home? It’s not so different from a cigarette.”

Dunk swallows. He hasn’t had many cigarettes either, mostly to keep his lungs in condition for rugby or boxing. But you and Lyonel always look like you’re having so much fun, so it can’t be scary. 

“I… we could try it,” he mumbles nervously. 

“We can stop whenever you want, love,” you coo to him, squeezing his arm. 

After a bit more sun, you pack up everything and head back to your flat. You stopped at the market first to get some snacks– because Dunk is always hungry– and now you’re patting yourself dry after a shower to rinse off any sand or sunscreen. 

You see him sitting on the sofa– he’s put on his thick glasses and he’s looking at the jar. You can see he’s wearing that ratty old shirt he picked up for free at some uni event– the one that you have begged him to put in the bin. When you round the corner, you see he’s got on his worn joggers too. Comfort is king for this, you suppose. You’re in a soft pyjama set you picked up last time you dragged Dunk through the shops. 

You perch on the sofa beside him, rubbing over his back. You set down an ashtray and your water bottle.

“Are you nervous?”

“A bit, yeah,” he confesses in a small voice.

It’s funny to see Dunk like this, slouched and shrunk down. When you first got together it felt like he was always trying to make himself smaller. 

You attempt to unscrew the lid from the jar, failing. 

“Cunt,” you mutter, trying again. 

Dunk takes it from your hands and opens it easily. He grimaces at the strong scent.

“Did it go bad?” he coughs. 

“No, love,” you laugh. “It just smells like this.”

He watches you closely, eyes on your hands. You must be an expert, the way you move so fluidly. You add some of the plant to the grinder– Dunk has no clue if it’s a big dose or a small one– and turn it back and forth between your hands. When you open it, it’s more like a powder. You pinch some between your fingers and put it into a little cone of pink paper. You take a little stick from beside the ashtray and push it down, then add more. You alternate a few times until the cone is full, and twist the tip to seal it. 

“Ta-da,” you sing lightly, grinning at him. 

“Wow,” he breathes. “So… you smoke it like a cigarette?”

“You just sit there and look pretty,” you tease, sitting up on your knees. “And keep your mouth open.” 

You light the twisted end and bring it to your lips.

“I’m going to blow into your mouth, okay? So breathe in.”

He nods, his chest expanding and deflating shakily. 

You inhale deeply, feeling it burn so good. You turn to Dunk and give him an open-mouthed kiss, letting the smoke billow into his mouth. He takes a big breath– like he’s gasping for air. You laugh when his face twists up and he coughs violently, leaning away from you. You pat his back, blowing the excess to the side. 

“Good job, Dunk.”

When he finally sits back, his cheeks are red and his eyes are teary. He sniffles and winces. 

“Do you-” he coughs, “-think we should have more?”

“I think I’ll have some more. You just… sit for a bit, yeah?” you tell him softly. 

He nods.

Dunk ends up on the floor. He sits between your legs, his head lolled back to rest between your thighs. You play with his hair as you half-watch some silly cartoon that has his full attention. You’ve both had a few more hits and you even let Dunk try to do it himself. He almost burned your carpet in a coughing fit, so you decided any more consumption would be through you. 

Dunk could purr at the feeling of you gently scratching his scalp. He tilts his head up to look at you. You’re so pretty. You’ve taken such good care of him for his first time getting high. 

And you’re… taking a picture of him?

You giggle, texting the picture to Lyonel. 

“Did you send that?” he asks lazily. 

“Just to Lyonel,” you answer honestly.

You give his head another scratch and this time, he moans. 

“Oh, are you feeling needy?” you coo. 

He nods. He turns around and rests his head on your knees. 

“Please?” he pouts.

“Please what, Dunk?” you taunt him, holding his chin.

He gets up slowly. It takes him a minute to stand on both feet. He wobbles a bit and sits next to you. You feel the couch dip with his size and lean over to kiss him. He grabs you and lifts you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. You straddle him and feel the stretch of opening your legs that wide. 

“Gods, you’re huge,” you puff out against his lips. 

His mouth is on yours, greedy and sloppy. It’s much less kissing and more exploration. Your warm tongue is like heaven and your fingers are still in his hair. His hands find your waist and tug you forward, a silent request for you to move against him. You roll your hips down, feeling his tongue slide against yours. 

You pull back slightly and push on his chest when he tries to lunge forward for another kiss. 

“But I wanna kiss you,” he whines. 

“I know you do, love.”

You kiss along his jaw and nip at his ear. 

“What else do you want?” you purr.

“I-I want your hand on me,” he pants. “Y-you can toy with me if you want, just touch me, please.”

Your hand– still on his chest– slides down, lightly scratching him through his shirt. When you reach the hem, you slip your hand under, helping him pull it off. You smooth your hands over his chest and squeeze his biceps, then finally trace your way down to his joggers. You smooth over his skin for a moment, feeling that patch of hair that you want to follow under the waistband.  Your finger hooks into the elastic and you pull it back. 

“Nothing underneath?”

“Knew you’d like that,” he tells you with a proud grin. 

Clearly that shy filter is gone. You let the band snap back and see him bite his lip.

“Wait- arse,” he grunts, feeling your hand palm him through the soft material. 

You rub your hand over his length, feeling it twitch under your touch. He sighs softly as his eyes close. He leans his head against your shoulder, pressing kisses to your skin. His hips jerk up when you reach further, cupping his balls. 

“Please-”

“So needy,” you chide, kissing his cheek. “You said I could toy with you, Duncan.”

“I-I did, but-”

“So be a good toy.”

You rub over the tip of his cock with two fingers. He gasps and his grip on your hips tightens– you feel his fingers press into your skin enough to make you wince.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pants. “I’m sorry, love, it- ngh- it’s so good, p-please just touch me, please?”

“Alright,” you agree with a smirk. 

You tug his waistband down and pull out his cock with your other hand. He’s so hard, the thick head of him flushed pink and leaking precum. You see that pronounced vein running down the side, and his balls already look tight from all your teasing. 

“Dunk, you’re so hard,” you tease. 

You smirk and slip down to the floor, perched on your knees between his legs. You motion for him to move forward, which he does. You wrap your hand around him, stroking up and making sure to skim your thumb over the tip. 

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses, gripping the couch. “Can you- ah- n-not so ti-ght, plea-” he cuts himself off with a loud whine. “F-feels like- fuck, s’n-never felt like this,” he stumbles and slurs his words. 

You lean forward and kiss his thigh, working your way up his leg. You trace a heart with your tongue so close to his cock you can see it twitch out of the corner of your eye. 

“Want your mouth, love, please,” he begs.

You lean forward, your lips pressing to the tip and giving it a sloppy kiss. Even just your kitten licks have Dunk moaning like a pornstar. He looks like one at this angle, his thick arms and broad chest all shiny with sweat. He’s covering his face with both of his forearms. You drool a bit at how big his biceps look flexed like that. 

You take the head of his cock in your mouth, just teasing that much. You rub him on your tongue, letting a bead of spit drip down his shaft. Dunk has never sounded like this before. He’s shy about everything– the noises he makes in bed most especially. You usually have to coax him into being vocal, but tonight he can’t shut up. 

“You- it’s so warm,” he moans. “Can you t-take it all the way?” he asks, his face burning red. 

“I don’t know… you’re so big,” you coo, rubbing his thigh. 

“Can y-you try?” he presses. 

You like a challenge. 

“You stay still,” you direct him. “And put your hands behind your back.”

He nods obediently, tucking his palms behind his back. His chest gets pushed out, which makes you grin. You take a breath and rub your jaw, willing it to relax. You hold his heavy length at the base and open your mouth. 

Dunk focuses all of his energy into not bucking his hips into your face. It’s unbelievable the way your mouth is so warm and so smooth at the same time. It’s overwhelming, and it gets even worse when he feels his cock snugly in the back of your throat. 

You look up and see him with his jaw stuck open. His eyes are closed and a tear is rolling down his cheek. You swallow around him, making him wince. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he babbles, shaking. 

You pull off slowly, once again kissing the tip. 

“How was that?” you ask in a breathy voice. 

“That was per-” he swallows, “-perfect. Fuck.”

“Want me to do it again?” 

“No,” he whines. 

“No? Why?”

“Because I want-” he stops when he sees your face. 

“Want what?”

“I want her,” he tells you, pointing between your legs. 

“You want her? You’re gonna have to get her all stretched out,” you purr. 

He grabs your wrist and tugs you up. Before you even realise you’re standing, Dunk shoves down your shorts and panties. He holds your hips and puts you in his lap, your back pressed against his bare chest. You sit on his hard cock, quickly reaching down to help him nestle between your folds.

“Can’t wait to stretch you out,” he puffs out. “Need you now.”

He grunts as his cock slides through your wet cunt. You gasp, squirming in his lap. You’ve become the toy now, with Dunk pulling you back and forth. Once you start to push back against him, one of his hands slides down to circle your clit. You turn your head, giving him a messy kiss. His other hand slides up the side of your body to squeeze your breast, rubbing his thumb over your nipple. 

His circles go from lazy to desperately faster. You moan and grab his wrist to slow him down. You didn’t even know he could move his hand this fast, and his fingers are so rough.

“I can fit you,” you mewl, scratching at his arm. “I can fit you, f-fuck me!”

You shove his hands away and turn around in his lap, guiding him to your dripping hole. 

“B-but- you- bare?” he pants. 

You didn’t even think of him not wearing a condom. It leaves both of your minds as you hiss at the feeling of the tip pushing in and the stretch that follows. 

“Love, d-don’t hurt yours-”

“Fuck off,” you huff, covering his mouth with your hand. 

Slowly but surely– with a guarantee you’ll be sore tomorrow– you sink down. When you’re full sheathed, Dunk rubs his hand up and down your back, admiring your sweet, blissed-out face. 

“It doesn’t hurt?”

You grind down, soaking him as you do. That dirty squelch always drives him mad, but he would never admit it. You feel his fingers at the hem of your top. You pull it over your breasts and his mouth is over your nipple instantly. His hands cradle you as he sits up, leaning forward to get more leverage. He bucks up into you.

“Dunk, Dunk, slow down,” you pant. 

He slows, looking up at you. He kisses your nipple before he pulls back.

“I wanna lead,” you tell him. 

He nods. Gods, he looks so cute like this. He’s a sweaty mess. You finally see how much you’ve scratched him, little red lines raised all over his skin. 

“Shit. Sorry,” you murmur.

“It’s alright… I-I like it,” he admits. 

You plant your hands on his stomach and his hands find your waist again. Working together you get a nice rhythm– not too fast, but steady and solid. He hits deep at this angle. 

“Can I… I didn’t g-get to kiss the oth-er one,” he explains with a shaky voice. 

You nod and his lips attach to your other breast. One of his hands squeezes the other. Your fingers curl into his shaggy hair with a tight grip. His hands are so big and warm, and his touch has the coarseness of his upbringing. He is always gentle with you– or at least what he thinks is gentle. 

You feel him nudge against your cervix and squeak, yanking on his hair. Dunk yelps– not a sound you’re used to him making.

“Sorry,” you breathe. 

“I-I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers. 

“No,” you whine. “Make me cum first.” 

That’s never an order Dunk takes lightly. He plants his feet on the carpet and gently pulls out of you.

“Can I- fuck it.” 

He lies down on the sofa and waves you up to sit on his face. You move up and he pulls you down, his nose bumping your clit. You always get so nervous to put your weight on him, but Dunk keeps you stuck on him, hardly letting you rock your hips on his face. 

One of his hands snakes down to stroke his cock. You don’t notice- you can’t notice anything except for the way he’s sucking on your clit. He always eats you out like it’s dessert, like you’re sugary sweet and he’s grateful for it. 

“Thank you,” he moans, panting for air. 

He dives back in the next second. You can tell from the way his arm keeps you off kilter, he’s stroking himself and fucking you with his tongue to the same rhythm. 

“Dunk! Fuck, wait, wait-”

“Y’gonna cum?” he groans from under you. “Cum for me, love, please… wanna taste it…”

You grab the arm of the sofa and wail, your back arching. The rope Dunk’s been pulling taught snaps and you sob above him, grinding down against his face as you ride out your orgasm. He twitches below you, and you move back to watch him as he cums. You stop him from covering his face, smirking. 

When he’s caught his breath, you get off of him and pull down your shirt. You bend down to get your shorts and hear his breath hitch from behind you.

“Give her a break, Dunk,” you joke, pulling your shorts on again. 

You grab a paper napkin from your takeout order and help him clean off. 

“I need some more weed.”

“Maybe a shower?” he suggests. 

You nod, turning back around to kiss him. You grab your phone and open the camera.

“Smile,” you sing teasingly. 

reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

[kwistowee]

PETER CLAFFEY as SER DUNCAN THE TALL A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS | 1.01

[solemnsteel]

let me tell you something!!! let me tell you something!!!!

smut under the cut. sweat kink!?????

ik dunk is a sweaty man like 90% of the time.

despite the fact that hes MASSIVE which basically means hes constantly retaining body heat, hes also a nervous wreck! whenever theres roads to traverse or work to be done you can trust theres a layer of sweat rolling off that man. he finds it incredibly annoying. the pommel of his sword slips out of his hands from time to time, and his clothes stink from the constant perspiration. he thinks if height wasn’t a factor he would scare people off from scent alone. but YOU however, you love it.

dunk is perplexed

you love the way the sweat rolls down the back of his neck, his golden hair turning a darker brown as it sticks together from the wetness and lays flat on his head. in the front, sometimes it drips from his brow and he has to push the hair out of his eyes to stop his sight from blurring. he looks so cute like that. hair messy and soaked from the sun.

in the heat—where he has been woking for hours, it gets so balmy that the stains of his shirt turn 2 or 3 shades darker and it no longer makes sense to wear the garment at all. so he peels it off his skin. you hold back a gasp and watch him shake his hair, askew from the disruption of the ruined cloth. he sighs with relief at the contact of fresh air and uses the fabric to pat away some of the sweat. behind his neck, under his arms, his back, then riiiiiiiight below his belly button, on the curly patch of hair that trails low into where his pants hide the rest. his v line framing the patch ever so slightly from what you can see. he knows its indecent, to expose himself like this, but he also knows you love to stare. how can you not? the sweat he doesn’t manage to wipe away, falls down his body like sap pouring from a tree. its a slow crawl down his incredibly tall frame. its takes your breath away that the act of sweating could make someone look like one of the gods.

at night, when its cold and the campfire settles down to shy embers that can no longer provide enough heat to keep you warm. you find you way to him. like a moth, you seek out his fire. even in the dead of winter he is like a furnace. duncan is happy to help of course, but what he hates is the never ending slick that pours out of him. hes always hot and sweaty yes, but when hes nervous its worse. and you make him more nervous than anything.

it starts in different ways, when you snuggle up to him in the night. but it always ends the same. once you are bold enough to roll over and face him you almost always find yourself close to the pit of his arm, your head supported by his bicep or his shoulder. either way its entirely too close to the source of the impending stink and duncan never fails to apologize for it. you shake him off, ensure that you dont smell a thing and thank him once more for keeping you warm. until finally you are both relaxed and reassured enough that you can both sleep comfortably.

what duncan doesn’t know, is that you welcome the stench.

you remember the first time you caught a whiff of him, sweaty and slightly pink in the cheeks from a days hard work. the smell of him practically floated into your nostrils. he smelled of body odor yes, but also of salt, and dirt, and pine, and herbs and it was incredibly dizzying and lit something so primal in you that it would not be snuffed out anytime soon.

when he was close you did all that you could to relish in the smell of him as discreetly as possible. touching him ever so slightly, so you could smell your hand when his back was turned. offering to wash his clothes so you could tuck one particularly flithy garment away for your own pleasure. dunk saw his stink as a flaw, but was painfully oblivious to the fact that you would sneak off into the woods with your chosen garment and use it to bring yourself to climax. sometimes you held the sweaty cloth to your face and rubbed one out to smell alone, but other times—when you found yourself particularly desperate for your hedge knight, the fabric found itself between your legs and you used that delicious friction over and over until you were seeing stars. those garments always came back particularly clean, and sometimes duncan swore he could smell himself on you, but he chucked that up to his own imagination.

until one particularly sweaty morning, where you are in duncans tight grasp and he knows his sweat has made its way to your skin, he can feel it. the wetness between you both and he is incredibly embarrassed but also extremely aroused. your own sweat from the cold night gone warm morning has mixed with his and he cant help but nuzzle into your neck at the proximity of the aroma. he allows himself to indulge in your scent far too long and it makes him so hard. you can feel it against you as he takes in another whiff, you dont think he realizes but dunk is petting you softly and rubbing himself ever so slightly on the plush meat of your thigh. its all involuntary and fueled by his own primal need for you.

finally. you think, and crane your neck to make room for his nose that presses into your pulse. the rest is unspoken but built up by time. one of your hands finds his and you let him grasp you harder, he whines in thanks and suddenly kisses where hes been inhaling to intently. when courage steps in his large hands undress you with skill, likes hes done it 1000 times before and unbeknownst to you hes probably done it even more in his dreams. then finally its his turn, and your breathless again stunned by his naked size and his sweat, both about to engulf you completely.

when it all settles to, and his tip finds his way to your folds he apologizes again for the sweltering that never seems to stop. you pull him close and kiss him deep.

“dont be.” you say between kisses “i love it.”

after that duncan never apologizes for the sweat again.

🪾

a/n: i was thinking about dunks bo and i got a little excited my fault. am i nasty…prolly…..