humbly requesting for some more Dunk fics because you are just that good! I Can’t stop thinking about him discovering that he likes his hair being pulled. Hehe
Like You Owned Me
Ser Duncan the Tall x Female Reader
18+, outdoor, oral sex, hair pulling, kinda soft to feral, but romantic because it’s implied that reader 🩷 Dunk.
words count: 2.4 k
The sun was low, turning the river into a sheet of beaten gold. The world felt quiet, held in the warm embrace of the late afternoon. Your usual spot was a secret hollow, hidden by a curtain of willow branches that brushed the water's edge. The grass was soft, and the blanket you shared was a faded patch of color against the green. It was here, away from the judging eyes of the keep, where you and Dunk could be yourselves.
He was beside you, his huge frame making the simple blanket seem small. He'd just finished his training for the day, and the scent of leather, steel, and clean sweat clung to him. You'd brought a small loaf of bread and some cheese, but the food lay forgotten between you. His attention was on you, and yours was on him.
His calloused hand traced the curve of your cheek, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "You're so beautiful," he rumbled, his voice a low vibration that you felt more than heard. "How did a great oaf like me get so lucky?"
You smiled, leaning into his touch. His shyness still surfaced at times like this, as if he couldn't quite believe you were real, that you had chosen him. "You're not an oaf," you whispered, your fingers tracing the scar on his brow.
He huffed a soft laugh, but his eyes never left yours. They were dark with a hunger that had been building all day. You'd seen him watching you from across the yard, his gaze lingering when you bent to pick up a pail or when the wind caught your skirt. That look was in his eyes now, raw and open.
"I want to show you something," he said, his voice dropping deeper.
He shifted, his big body moving with a grace that always surprised you. He didn't give you a chance to ask what he meant. His hands found the laces of your bodice, his thick fingers surprisingly deft as he pulled them loose. The fabric parted, and he eased the garment from your shoulders, letting it pool around your waist. Your skin prickled in the warm air.
Dunk stared, his breathing gone rough. He looked at you like you were a miracle, his gaze worshipful. He reached out, his massive palm hovering just above your bare skin, a tremor in his thick fingers.
"I'm always afraid I'll wake up back in Flea Bottom, and none of this will be real."
"It's real, Dunk," you murmured, reaching up to press his hand flat against your chest so he could feel your racing pulse. "I'm right here."
He leaned down, and instead of the kiss you expected, his lips met your shoulder. It was a soft, closed-mouth press of his mouth to your skin. Then another, an inch lower. And another. He began a slow trail of kisses down your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. It was strange, tender, and it made a shiver run down your spine.
His hands came to your waist, guiding you to lie back on the blanket. You went willingly, the soft wool cushioning your back. He loomed over you, his shadow shielding you from the sun. He looked down at you, his eyes wide and unblinking.
"I don't deserve you," he whispered against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip the material of your skirt. "I swear to the gods, I don't."
With a gentle tug, he began to pull it up, revealing your legs inch by inch. He didn't stop until the fabric was bunched at your waist, leaving you bare from the waist down. The vulnerability made your heart hammer in your chest, but the look on his face was pure reverence.
He knelt between your thighs, his frame making you feel small and cherished. He bent and kissed your knee. It was such a simple thing, but the intent behind it made your breath catch. He kissed the inside of your thigh, his beard tickling your skin. Then the other. He was methodical, his mouth worshipping every inch of your legs, moving higher with each kiss.
A flush crept up your chest and neck, burning your cheeks. This was new. This was... intense. He wasn't rushing to the main event, he was savoring the journey. He reached the top of your thigh, his breath ghosting over the most sensitive part of you. You were wet, you could feel it, the cool air a stark contrast to your heat.
He paused, his nose brushing the curls there. He inhaled deeply, a low groan rumbling in his chest. "Gods, the way you smell," he rasped.
Then, his tongue was on you. A broad, flat stroke that had you gasping and arching off the blanket. He didn't tease. He licked you again, a slow, deliberate lap from your entrance to your clit. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him.
He was lost in it, his eyes closed as he tasted you. He licked and nuzzled, his face pressed against your core. Your shyness was being burned away by a wave of undiluted pleasure. You felt exposed, but the way he was acting, like he'd found the most sacred place in the world, made it feel less like vulnerability and more like an offering.
He groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your whole body. "You taste... better than I ever dreamed," he slurred, his words muffled by your flesh.
He dove back in, his tongue working with more fervor. You could feel the slickness on his chin, see the way his own arousal strained against his breeches. The sight of this huge, powerful knight completely undone by the taste of you was intoxicating.
The slow, tormenting rhythm became unbearable. The heat coiling in your belly tightened into a fierce, demanding knot. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers sinking deep into the thick strands. You gripped hard, yanking his head back, forcing him to still.
Dunk let out a broken gasp, freezing under your touch. His neck arched against your grip, his head tilted back, his blue eyes dark and hazy, dazed as he stared up the length of your body. He looked lost, utterly undone by the simple pull of your hand.
"Gods above, girl," he choked out, his voice a raw, ragged thing. "Don't... don't stop."
"Dunk, look at me," you panted, your own voice shaking with a desperate, wild need. You tightened your grip, his hair a rough rope in your fist. "D-Dunk… give me your tongue, your teeth. Give me everything."
He swallowed hard, his thick fingers instantly wrapping around your wrist. He didn't try to pull your hand away. He pressed it closer, forcing your fingers deeper into his scalp, giving you a better, stronger hold on him.
"Seven hells," he rasped, his voice dropping into an uneven growl. "Tell me. Hold me fast and tell me what you need."
"Harder," you cried out, your fingers twisting in his hair as you slammed his head back down into your heat, demanding his mouth. "Use your tongue, Dunk. Right there. Don't be gentle with me now, by the gods, please!"
A choked groan tore from his chest as he obeyed, completely unspooled by the force of your command. The hard, steady pull on his hair stripped away the last of his knightly restraint. He buried his face against you, his mouth opening wide against your slick folds as his tongue began a heavy, driving assault on your clit. The wet, slurping sounds filled the small clearing, lewd and perfect. He was lost in you, his only purpose to please you, to make you break apart on his tongue. The sound of his mouth on you, the feel of his hair in your fist, the pleasure of it all, made your head spin. You loved this man, this great knight who was so completely at your mercy. You loved him with a fierceness that scared you, and you never wanted to let him go.
You let out a broken scream, your nails digging into his scalp to hold him flush against you. "Yes! Gods, Dunk, yes!"
He rumbled in approval against your skin, completely possessed by the frantic urgency in your voice. One of his massive hands left your thigh, sliding up to press flat against your lower stomach to hold your lifting pelvis steady, while his other hand snared your ass, tilting you up perfectly for his mouth. He was eating you with a desperate fervor, the heavy mixture of his saliva and your own slick wetness creating a loud, obscene, sloshing sound that echoed through the quiet willow glade.
Before you could gather your senses, his first thick finger forced its way inside you. Your back bowed completely off the blanket. "Dunk! Oh, gods... you're stretching me. It's too much."
"It's not enough," he muttered roughly against your flesh, his words slurred with lust as he pumped his finger deep, matching the heavy friction of his tongue. He added a second finger, filling you completely. "Tell me you like it. Let me hear you, girl."
"I love it, I'm breaking, Dunk, please—" You were a sobbing, breathless mess, your hands alternating between violently tugging his hair to force his mouth harder against your clit and clawing frantically at his scalp. "Please, please please!"
The sight was utterly wicked. This giant of a man, built for shields and battlefields, was hunched small between your thighs, completely ruled by the tight grip of your hand in his hair and the frantic cries tearing from your throat. The massive bulge in his leather breeches looked agonizingly tight, throbbing against his thigh, but he didn't care about his own release. He only wanted to hear you ruin yourself for him.
"Then break for me," he choked out, his tongue flicking hard, unyielding rhythms over your clit while his fingers curled deep inside you. "Right here in my mouth, sweet girl. Let it go."
Those desperate words pushed you right over the brink. The orgasm hit you, stealing the air from your lungs. Your inner walls clamped down violently around his fingers, your thighs locking around his head as your body convulsed.
"Dunk! Dunk!" you screamed his name into the quiet hollow, your fingers ripping into his hair, pulling him so close against your core that there was no space left between you as the pleasure ripped through your veins.
He didn't pull back. He kept his tongue pressed hard against you, his movements only softening into gentle, soothing strokes as your tremors slowly began to quiet.
When you finally went entirely limp, panting and dazed against the wool blanket, your fingers slowly uncurled from his hair, leaving his thick strands tangled and wild. He placed one last, lingering kiss on your sensitive flesh before slowly lifting his head.
His face was glistening in the fading gold light, his beard damp with you. He looked up the length of your body with feral satisfaction, his blue eyes burning with absolute adoration. He slowly withdrew his fingers, and a tiny whimper escaped your lips at the loss.
"Are you alright?" he whispered, his voice rough and uneven as he brought his hand up, gently licking his fingers clean while his eyes stayed locked on yours.
"More than alright," you breathed, reaching out for him, your arms trembling. "Come here. I need to feel how heavy you are."
He crawled up the blanket, settling his immense, heavy weight over your body, careful to shield you without crushing you. He was still fully clothed, his agonizing hardness pressing thick and insistent against your thigh.
You cupped his face in your hands, pulling him down into a deep, fierce kiss. You tasted yourself on his lips and tongue, a raw, intimate flavor that made you whimper into his mouth and wrap your legs around his lean hips. He groaned, one hand tangling in your hair as he ground against you, his desperation obvious.
You dragged your lips from his, panting, and let your hands slide down his huge chest. The muscles were hard and taut beneath your palms. As your fingers traced the strained laces of his breeches, you felt a sudden, hot dampness against your thigh.
You froze, looking down. There, a dark, wet stain was spreading fast across the front of his leather pants, the fabric soaked and clinging to the shape of his heavy, throbbing cock. He was coming, right there against you, with no hands.
"Did I...?" Your voice trailed off, your eyes snapping up to meet his.
Dunk's face had turned a deep, furious red, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and pure, helpless embarrassment. "Gods be damned," he rasped, his voice choked. "I... I'm sorry. I couldn't—"
"No, don't be," you cut him off, your own voice trembling with a fierce, shocked excitement. Your hand darted out, pressing flat against the hot, wet stain, feeling the pulse of his cock jerking beneath the leather. "You did this for me? Because I pulled your hair?"
He groaned, his forehead dropping against your shoulder, his entire body shuddering."You held my head down," he whispered harshly against your skin, his hips jerking helplessly against your palm. "You pulled my hair like you owned me, and I was so deep in you, the taste of you everywhere... I couldn't hold it. The thought of you finishing like that... it just—seven hells ..it broke me."
A breathless, thrilled laugh escaped you, your heart hammering wildly. You slid your hand inside his waistband, feeling the hot, sticky mess of his spend coating your fingers. You found him, still hard and pulsing, and wrapped your wet hand around his shaft.
"Dunk," you moaned, stroking him slowly, making him shudder violently. "Do you know what it does to me, knowing I made you spill like this? Just from holding you where I needed you?"
He let out a strangled sound, his hips thrusting up into your fist. "Girl, don't say that. I'll go again."
You grinned, feeling wicked and powerful. "Good," you whispered, tightening your grip. "Because I'm not done with you yet, my knight. Not by a long shot."
His only answer was to crush his mouth to yours, kissing you with a new, desperate intensity as you milked the last shudders of pleasure from his cock, both of you knowing that this was only the beginning. The wet spot on his pants was proof of your power over him, a secret, primal victory you would cherish in the quiet of your bed long after the sun had set.
A/N: Hiiii, hello! Sorry it’s been so long, but I’m back in the hedge knight game! I really hope you guys missed me ✨ thank you for reading, kisses for everyone!🩷
