My Lady (Y/N)
dark!duncan the tall x reader
summary: his love for you was innocent. but lust always made the most innocent men dangerous.
tw: implied noncon
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“If only his brain were as big as his body. Maybe then he’d be useful.” A nasty laugh. “All he’s good for now is blocking my way.”
Duncan tried to pretend he didn’t hear it. He shuffled forward in line, ignoring the looks he received from those who walked past.
The weather outside was sweltering, and all he wanted was a strong ale to cool him down. Only three men stood in line in front of him. He rolled his neck, feeling impatient.
“Maybe you should jump on his shoulders,” spoke the voice of a mocking stranger behind him. “You’d reach the ceiling.”
Another laugh. “I’d reach the heavens.”
Duncan’s shoulders slouched. He wished he could coil into himself. In fact, he wished he could disappear sometimes entirely.
It was an awful curse. To be so big, so noticeable, and yet so painfully uncomfortable with being the center of attention.
His eyes drifted to the floor, wishing he could blend into crowds the ways others could. He wished he could simply be a man in line, instead of an oaf sticking out like a sore thumb.
“Aye!” someone shouted at him. A hand pushed him forward. “Pay attention, ya big cunt.”
His head snapped in their direction. “There’s no need to push me.”
“Then keep your eyes on the damn line,” the man scoffed. “It’s your turn.”
Duncan lowered his head, too tired to play into the anger of men. He stepped up to the barkeep.
His eyes fell on you, the barkeeper.
“One dry ale, please,” he asked of you.
But your attention wasn’t on him. No, it was on the man behind him.
“Don’t be shoving my customers, Elias,” you scolded. “You wouldn’t want to be kicked out again, would you?”
“The brainless giant wasn’t paying attention-”
“Watch your words,” you said, sternly. You point a finger straight at Duncan. “He could knock you out with just one hit, you know.”
Duncan didn’t bother turning to look at their reactions, but he noticed that they didn’t speak again.
You gave him an ale, he gave you coin, and you split ways.
He had felt the urge to thank you for coming to his defense, but found himself too shy to. He hated his own lack of backbone.
Duncan took a seat in the corner of the tavern. He always sat in corners, out of the way. He stared down at his drink, discouraged by the pitiful reflection it showed him.
It had been a lonely day, just as all days were for him. He let out a deep sigh, ready to drink away his troubles.
Suddenly, something hit him. A roll of bread. It had been thrown at him, slapping against his forehead. He jerked his head up, trying to see who had done it.
Those bastards from earlier were on their way out, laughing as they exited the pub.
He could hear more whispers, more eyes on him. Even sitting down, the world seemed to notice how different he was from everyone else.
Duncan had never felt so unwelcome. He considered leaving right then and there. He grabbed hold of his ale, ready to down it and go hide himself back at the inn.
But before he could go anywhere, you appeared. You came out of nowhere, startling him by placing another cup in front of him. “Here’s a fresher one for ya.”
He looked up at you with confusion. “I only ordered one.”
“It’s alright. Have it anyway.”
He hesitated, feeling even more inadequate as he had to admit, “I…have no extra coin to pay for it-”
“It’s on the house,” you told him. “It ain’t fair for you to pay full price for a drink people keep interruptin’.”
He felt a flicker of embarrassment at the thought of being given charity. But the craving of another drink was higher then any feeling of humiliation.
A slow nod. “Thank you.”
“They’re jealous of you, you know,” you told him. “That’s why they tease ya.”
“Nobody is jealous of me, milady,” he mumbled.
You let out a low laugh. “Serious? A lad as tall as you has no clue as to why he is bothered by so many short men? They’re jealous of your size, ser. I promise.”
He sat up just a bit straighter. “You would think they would just leave me alone if my size meant anythin’ to them.”
“They should. But they don’t, because they’re the stupid ones.” You tilted your head. “I haven’t seen you before.” You would remember someone as tall as him, but you don’t say it. “Are you only passing through?”
“Aye. I’ll be at the inn for a few days before heading off for work.”
“What do you do?”
A short shrug. “What people need of me.”
“Is it exciting? Moving place to place for different jobs.”
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“It’s a bit...” He hesitates, your curious eyes making him unsure of admiring such an emasculating thing. “…lonely.”
Your expression changes, and Duncan scolds himself. What kind of man laments to a woman about their loneliness? He was sure it made him look pathetic.
You glanced behind you at the rest of the tavern, before looking back at him. Your voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re welcome here anytime, you know.”
Was this pity?
“And hey, if you do whatever work is asked of you, I can pay ya to clean the spiderwebs on the banisters. I can never reach them, not even with a stool.”
He felt his heart start beating faster at the invitation to return. To be useful.
He didn’t even care if it was a task offered out of pity, he’d embrace that if it meant being welcomed somewhere familiar.
“They call me Dunk,” he says to you.
“Dunk?”
“Short for Duncan.”
“Ah. They call me (Y/N).”
“Lady (Y/N).”
Another laugh. “You know I’m no Lady.”
“You certainly look like one,” he quickly replied. “Very elegant, and well-spoken, and-” He hesitates again, his nerves causing him to stumble. “-and pretty.”
A genuine smile graced your face. It felt like a prize he won. “You are kind. Tall, and kind, and handsome. A very dangerous combination if you ask me.”
He grew flustered, so much so that you could see the redness of his face. But you didn’t mention it, you just smiled again, and moved on to help the next drunk waiting for another round.
Duncan returned to the tavern the next day, earlier than before.
You greeted him with a smile. “Afternoon, Dunk. What can I get for you?”
He made sure to bring as many coins as he could spare that day, to stay as long as he could. “Just a dry ale.”
You poured and presented his drink.
He was polite and nodded. “Thank you, milady.”
It brought another smile from you. He relished in it.
“Again with ‘milady’. You know, if the owner heard you call me that, he’ll accuse you of flirtin’, and he’ll try to get me to charge ya double.”
“I will pay double if it allows me to speak with you.”
Now, it was you that appeared flustered. His heart skipped a beat again.
“You’re tryin’ to get another free drink, aren’t ya?” you laugh. “That’s what this flattery is for.”
“No,” he hurried out. “No, I don’t expect none of that.” He quickly presented you with payment. “I brought coin-”
“I’m jokin’, Dunk,” you told him. “You’re a sweet talker.”
He was supposed to prepare for his next job that day. He was supposed to be packing, and making sure his horse was ready for the journey.
But he spent the whole day in the tavern.
He was too shy to mention helping you clean.
So he waited until the next day to bring it up.
Duncan arrived in the early morning, knocking on the door at an hour too early for the average drunkered.
“Dunk,” you smiled. “My, what a night you must’ve had to need drinkin’ this early.”
“I-” He cleared his throat. “I have come to help you clean.”
“Clean?”
He felt a slight panic at your tone. “Yes. You-” He pointed towards the room. “You said you needed help with the ceilings.”
“Oh! Yes!” You held the door open. “Come in! Come in! Thank you!”
It was empty inside. It made him nervous again.
“I apologize for my confusion. I forgot I told you I needed help. I’m not used to my customers even remembering our conversations.” You smile at him. “Should’ve known you would, though. You don’t seem like the type of man to drink yourself silly.”
“I’m not,” he quickly agreed. “I don’t overindulge in that.”
“Good. Keep it that way. You’re too good for that lifestyle.”
Shyness crept into him. He mumbled, “You ain’t hardly know me. How would you know what I’m too good for?”
You just shrug. “Suppose I can see it in your eyes.” You turned back to look at him, craning your head up to meet his gaze.
Bashful from the comment, and from you in general, he stumbled out, “You...have quite nice eyes as well.”
Duncan wanted to slap himself for what he said. But you didn’t seem to notice his regret. You just smiled again.
He was getting awfully fond of that smile.
Duncan cleaned more than the just bannisters for you. He grabbed a rag and cleaned just about the whole ceiling.
By the time he was done, a few people had already staggered in. He didn’t mind. He enjoyed watching you speak with others.
Duncan liked seeing you work, and serve drinks.
He liked that you didn’t smile at any of them the same way you smiled at him.
When he showed you his progress, you were thrilled with the work he did.
Your happiness fueled him. “You’re amazin’,” you beamed. “Look at that. It’ll be the first day in years I don’t have to worry about dust droppin’ into anyone’s drink.”
His arms ached from being held above his head all day, but still he told you, “It was hardly any trouble. I’d be happy to do it more often if needed.”
“How much do you charge an hour? I can get you payment from the owner.”
He quickly shook his head. “No need. I’m glad to be of service.”
“No. Really. You deserve something for your hard work.”
He was scared to ask for pay. What if your boss decided he cost too much money, and didn’t want you inviting him back?
“Just a drink will do for me.”
“You’re too good for this town.”
Men didn’t blush, so Duncan scolded himself when he felt his cheeks heating up at your compliment.
You poured him an ale, and he drank it slowly. He was there all the way until dark.
When you bid him a goodbye, you sent him another smile. It made his body hot.
Duncan was drawn to the tavern from then on.
He went, day after day, saving money just to spend it there.
He visited so often that one day you eventually asked, “I thought you were passing through this town?”
“I decided I like it.”
He liked you.
He’d take odds jobs in different places, but he’d always come back.
He helped with whatever you needed. Little things here and there.
“You should ask the owner for a real job here,” you kept telling him. “Make some real money.”
But it wasn’t a job he wanted. It was just time with you.
Two months passed.
You had become a staple in Duncan’s routine. The thing he looked forward to most in the day.
He planned everything around being able to see you.
Duncan longed for you since the first moment he met you.
You would smile, and his feelings would grow. You would laugh, and his heart would soar. You would talk to him, and he would become weak.
And now…
Now, he didn’t just long for you.
Now, he ached for you.
It was disrespectful for him to have such crude thoughts about you. You would be disgusted if you could see into his thoughts.
But he’d never be able to stop the fantasies that ran wild at night. There was no physical pleasure comparable to that of his hand on his cock while your face was on his mind.
Oh, how he ravaged you in his mind.
He would picture visiting your tavern at night, so late that everyone else had gone home. He pictured fucking you on a table. Hell, he’d even be willing to fuck you on the floor.
Duncan would be a generous lover to you. Even in his fantasies, he would always take care of you first, kissing and licking and sucking on the tender bundle of nerves between your legs.
You were a good, nice girl. You deserved someone taking care of you.
He wouldn’t overwhelm you with his size, no, he’d inch himself into you, slowly. And if you told him he was too big for you, if you said his cock was too large for your cunt, he wouldn’t dare complain. No, he would please you with his fingers until you were wet enough to take all of him.
In his mind, he ravaged you. But in the real world, he worshipped you.
He was at the tavern for hours everyday now, never skipping an afternoon.
“Officially joining our town?” you asked as the two of came across your third month of knowing each other.
“Would you be pleased if I did?”
“Oh, of course.” You joked, “The tavern’s never been in such good condition.”
He let out a short laugh too. “Would the tavern miss me if I left?”
“More the anyone.”
“Would…” He hated how fast shyness hit him. “Would you miss me?”
Again, you gave him that smile. It made his heart flutter. “I’d miss you more than the tavern would.”
“I’d sure miss this place if I had to leave.” He paused, then added, “I’d miss you even more, Lady (Y/N).”
He watched as you turned around, glancing around the tavern to check if anyone was watching.
Then, in a quick movement, you leaned down and placed a fast kiss on his cheek.
Duncan froze.
“That’s why you’re my favorite,” you whispered.
The kiss seemed to light his entire body on fire. He swore it burned him.
He was a goner after that. He was in too deep with his feelings for you. He couldn’t stop himself now.
He started to touch you.
A quick brush of his hand against your hip, your back, your arm. He’d be fast, brushing past you, acting as if it was unintentional, pretending it didn’t happen at all so that you wouldn’t question it.
It was all innocent, he swore to himself that it was.
But his control slipped further, day by day.
You would reach your arm up to point out dust on the bannister, and he would pretend it was an accident when the back of his hand brushed against your breast.
His fingers grazed your backside when you’d bent over to grab something beneath a table, making you flinch, but he’d step away like he was never near you.
He’d slide past you, and he’d lean in and inhale the scent of your hair, but scuffle away before you could look up at him.
It was never anything too crude.
He never went too far.
…Until he did.
He had been hired to help a nearby farmer that day. It took him until dark to finish his task, and it was grueling, but he was grateful for the money he earned.
Duncan had actually met the farmer at the tavern, so of course, the man insisted they return to it to drink off the hard day’s work.
Your eyes lit up when you saw Duncan sitting with someone. “You’ve brought company,” you commented.
He could see it in your eyes how happy you were that he might have found a friend.
“Duncan here is the best farmhand I’ve ever hired,” the farmer told you. “Never have I met a man with such strength.”
Duncan felt pride as he was boasted about.
You smiled wider, looking just as proud.
The farmer bought Duncan a few rounds of drinks. More then he was used to. The most he’d normally drink a night was three cups of ale. But he was at cup seven when he started to lose track.
More and more people sat with him. More and more alcohol flowed.
At one point of the night, Duncan felt dizzy, so put his head down on the table.
He must’ve fallen asleep, because he did not open his eyes until he felt you shake his shoulder, and call out for him. “Dunk. Dunk, come on now. Time to wake.”
He picked his head up, and when he looked around, the tavern was completely empty.
“What’s happened?” he groaned, the dizziness still there.
“You passed out from drinkin’. I didn’t know that was even possible for a man your size.”
He tried to stand to his feet. He stumbled back into the chair.
“Careful now,” you laughed. “You drank nearly an entire barrel of ale tonight.”
“Gods, I hope I don’t have to pay for it all.”
“Your friend took the bill.”
“Not exactly a friend,” Duncan mentioned. “I only work for him.”
“Seemed like a friend,” you told him. “And I’m glad. You deserve some good ones.”
“You’re my friend, aren’t ya?”
You met his eye with a smile. “Of course.”
“But...” His shyness returned, worse now in his intoxicated state. “Truly, are you? Or…do you just…humor me with conversation as you do your other customers?”
He did not notice how badly the alcohol was making him stumble over his words, but you did.
Men were more emotional when drunk, you knew this well. So you were sure to be careful with his heart that night. You took the seat across from him, and spoke honestly, “I would never see you as just a customer, Dunk. In fact, I…” You felt his shyness rubbing off on you, realizing you were almost embarrassed to admit, “I find myself waiting every day to see you walk in.”
He sat up straight, his heart just about shooting out of his chest.
“I miss you on the days you are gone,” you admit to him.
He quickly sputters out, “I miss you as well. Just-Just about every moment of the day.”
“You’re teasing-”
“No.” He is fast to correct you. “Not at all.”
He watched you lean back, shyness building louder on your features. “Why would a man as handsome as you have your mind stuck on some tavern girl all day, when you pass through real towns with real ladies?”
“Never in my whole life have I ever passed through a place that has had a woman as beautiful as you.”
“You’re more of a flirt when you’re drunk, it seems-”
“I’m no flirt.” His voice is serious. “I do not look at other women. I have no need for it.”
Your eyes take in his whole face. “Then why entertain me?”
He paused as his eyes flickered over you. “…Must you make me say it?”
“Yes.”
“You know the answer.” He could see it in your eyes.
“I do. But I want to hear you say it.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t like my heart being pulled at just for laughs.”
Duncan pushed himself up from his chair. His body swayed again. You quickly stood up to steady him.
“Careful,” you say again. You place a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “You’re still unbalanced-”
He takes hold of your hand, pulling it up to his chest. Your words falter.
“Have you truly no idea the feelings I have for you?” he whispered.
Your eyes are only on him, and it’s as if the world around you has disappeared.
“I need to hear you say it,” you speak, voice even quieter then his own. “I-I need to know this isn’t all in my head. That this ain’t just the ale making you talk. I want to hear it, Duncan.”
He swallowed, hard. His thumb brushed the back of your hand, and his voice remained in a whisper, “I care for you in a way I’ve never cared for anyone in my whole life. It ain’t the ale making me say it. It’s you making me say it. You’ve gotten through to a heart I wasn’t sure I had.”
A soft breath escape you. You clutched his hand. His heart soared.
“You won’t take it back when you sober in the morning-?”
“I wouldn’t take my words back with a knife to my throat.”
You seemed hesitant, as if still unsure if this was all a joke. “You’re not teasing-?”
“I’m not teasing.”
He couldn’t understand how you thought he could be playing with you. As if your company wasn’t the beacon of his existence.
“…I feel so different when I’m with you,” you whisper to him, your words making his body hot. “Like I’m in a different world. Could you…Could you do me a favorite, Duncan? And swear to me you won’t wake up sober and suddenly decide to never come back?”
“I’d find myself buried in the ground before I found myself tired of you.”
It was exactly what you needed to hear. The final piece cementing the fact that these feelings were real, and strong, for both of you.
You moved forward slowly, so slowly.
You leaned up on the tips of your toes, eyes never leaving his.
Hesitantly, as if scared of rejection, you brought your lips to his.
A soft, kind kiss.
He felt as if he’d burst into flames.
He brought his hands to the back of your hair, bringing you closer to him, kissing you deeper.
He heard you giggle as you pulled away. “You taste of ale.”
“You taste of heaven.”
He kissed you again. You hummed into it.
Until he stumbled again, losing balance for a moment, crashing the back of your legs against the table.
You laughed more as you pushed at his chest. “Alright, Duncan, I think you need to take a seat before you get sick.”
“I need nothing but you,” he mumbled, grabbing onto your face again, pulling you into him.
He thought he was being romantic by stealing more kisses.
But in his drunkeness, he did not notice his roughness.
He did not notice how harshly he had craned your neck up to meet his lips, or how nastily he pulled at your hair to bring you back to him.
You pulled yourself back. “Dunk. Dunk, wait-ah!” You pushed him when he pulled your hair. “Careful.”
Your words were ignored.
He was too caught up in the excitement of it all.
His lips touched your neck. You relaxed when his sloppy kisses began to tickle you.
“Duncan. Come on,” you said, risking a laugh at his eagerness. “Sit down now. Let me bring you some water.”
The feeling of your collarbone made him shiver. His teeth grazed the area, sucking on it, trying to bring a moan from you.
You suddenly stopped laughing when he sucked on your skin sharp enough to bring a hiss from you. “Dunk.” You shoved his shoulder again, but he barely felt it. “Your head is out of it right now. Stop this.”
His hands left your hair, moving to be placed over your hips.
His fingers dig into you skin.
“Dunk-you’re hurting me,” you try to tell him. “Duncan. Duncan. Stop.”
But he couldn’t. He’d dreamed of this moment for so long.
His lips went back to yours, but this time it was suffocating.
You shoved him back again, harder this time. “Stop!”
“No one will see us,” he hushed you. Again, he placed his lips back on yours.
You frantically turned your head away. “Duncan-!”
His hand reached up and snatched your jaw, holding you in place so that he could force his tongue into your mouth.
You were panicking now. You jerked your head back.
“Stop this,” you cried, your voice becoming hysteric. “Stop this. Stop this. I want to stop this.”
He was too drunk to notice the way your eyes had glossed over with tears.
So many days he had spent imagining this very moment.
He wanted to prove how good of a man he was for you.
He wanted to prove how good he could make you feel.
He stumbled again, intoxicated, pushing you further into the table. His mouth left rough kisses along your face, and you hear him mumble, “I’ll be gentle.”
“No,” you choked, flinching as his hand gripped your dress.
He carelessly tugged the end of your skirt. You shoved his arm as hard as you could, forcing his hand away.
“Let go of me!” you tried to demand, voice shaking as you truly took in the situation. “Take your hands off of me!”
Duncan was bigger then you, stronger then you, and you would never be able to push him off if he didn’t want you to.
“Let me show you,” he moaned, his hands gathering around your waist and pulling you closer. “I will be so...” Another moan left his lips as your struggling body writhed against his aroused member. “…so good to you.”
His mouth crashed into yours, harsh and rough. You frantically tried pulling away, causing in his teeth nipping your lip. You inhaled sharply in pain.
He took your hysterics as nothing but mere hesitancy.
“Don’t be scared,” he told you. You bucked in his grip. He held you firmer. “We-” His speech slurred. “We don’t have to hide this from anyone-”
“Duncan!” you cried. You balled your fists, banging them against his chest. “Duncan, stop this now!”
“I’ll be gentle-”
“No!” you sob, crying out as he pressed your legs harder against the table behind you.
“Let me show you.” His voice was practically a beg now. “Please, (Y/N). I’ll-I’ll be so good to you. I’ll make you feel so good.”
You screamed as he forcefully took hold of your body, picking your feet off the floor, pushing onto the top of table.
“I’ll show you,” he kept repeating. “I’ll show you.”
His hand grip your skirts, tighter this time, yanking them up so hard you swore you heard a rip.
“Wait,” you cry, your mind coming to terms with the fact this was about to be a tragedy you wouldn’t be able to stop. “Wait. Wait. Please.” You try to place your hands on his face. “Duncan, please.”
He pauses at the sound of you pleading his name. His hands stop, and he looks straight at you.
“Don’t,” you sob.
Your shaking hands cling to your skirt.
“Please. Don’t.”
His hands find your face. His fingers are gentle, but you still flinch.
“I’ll be careful, (Y/N). I promise.”
“No-”
“Just lay back.”
“Duncan,” you cry. “You’re not thinking straight. Please-”
Duncan pushes your shoulders back, and lays you on the table.
No.
No, he didn’t push you.
He was drunk.
He shoved you.
His strong hands shoved you back on the table so hard, your head slammed against the wood.
You cried out in pain, but he didn’t even notice it in his drunken state of mind.
Your hands flew to the back of your head, a dizziness worse then his taking hold of you.
Your eyes were shut tightly as the pain enveloped you, so you didn’t see when Duncan began to unlace his trousers.
Your attention was on your head, which throbbed like never before, so you hardly felt it when your skirts were pushed up to your waist.
There was a ringing in your ears, so you could not hear the moans that left Duncan’s throat as he gazed upon your suddenly bare body.
The room was spinning, and your heart cried as if the world was ending.
But as Duncan fucked you that night, ravaging your body on a dirty tavern table, in the way he’d fantasized of night after night, he felt as if life was just beginning.
