Mean Ser Duncan the Tall who takes out the frustrations of being a knight on the reader. Duncan who believes that knights serve the realm, but you serve only him.
You knew as soon as he walked through the door that he needed you. As soon as he entered your lodgings, his eyes searched for you, finding you in the kitchen.
“Dunk?” you whispered.
His eyes narrowed as they bore into you, but he remained silent. Your eyes began to roam his body, remnants of dried blood staining—no, tainting the silver of his armour. You nodded, understanding, and he crossed the room in two steps, closing the space between you.
You took your time shedding him of his armour, carefully dislodging each piece until it sat at your feet.
You hesitated, but reached up and caressed his face. “What do you need?”
His breath came out hoarse. You stepped back, taking him in. His shoulders enveloped you so you could see nothing behind him.
His answer came not in words, but in actions. Using one arm, he scooped you up, bringing you to his chest. On the way to your bedroom, he managed to knock over two pots and a pile of books. You ignored them.
It was rare that he would return to you like this, silent and abrasive. But you knew there was only one cure for him when he was like this, and it was you.
Your dress came apart in one straight tear, pooling at your feet, and you gasped. “Dunk, that was expensive.”
“Quiet.”
He would usually prepare you, spending all the time you needed, kneading your soft pussy until you were a moaning mess and ready for him.
Today, you were not so lucky. He pushed you down, stomach first, onto your bed. There was the removal of undergarments, and then you felt it.
His bully of a cock sat at your entrance, if only for a moment, before he began to enter you. He was not gentle.
He lowered himself, close enough to your ear to whisper, “You make me clean. Cleanse me.”
He pummelled you into the sheets like you would not have to clean them tomorrow. The only sounds filling your chamber were an amalgamation of your moans. Earth shattering. Freeing.
“Built for a dirty hedge knight’s cock, aren’t you, little wench?”
When you did not answer, he wrapped his hand around the back of your throat, pressing you into the covers, your attempt at an answer now hidden in the sheets.
“I cannot hear you. Use your words.”
“I am built for you,” you cried out into the dark.
The next thing you knew, Dunk was filling you up until your pussy was overflowing with his cum. He withdrew from you, flipping you onto your stomach.
“Cannot let any of that go to waste, can we?”
With that, he fingered his cum back into you.
When he was done he leaned over you, whispering apologies for his roughness between kisses.
“I am sorry, my love.”
“Just needed you bad. Today was the worst.”
“My cock was so heavy for you.”