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.”
