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The apple tree loomed above them, its highest branches bowed low beneath the weight of ripe fruit, each apple glowing deep crimson in the golden afternoon sun. After days of salted beef, coarse bread, and hard cheese scavenged from the last village, the sight of fresh fruit was enough to leave all three of you staring in open longing. The tree stood alone on a gentle rise beside the road, its branches heavy and inviting, a promise of sweetness after too many bland meals.
Egg was the first to act. He scrambled eagerly up Dunk’s back, fingers tangling far too tightly in his hair as he balanced on the knight’s broad shoulders and stretched toward the nearest apple.
“Higher,” Egg demanded.
“I am higher,” Dunk muttered, shifting his stance as he wobbled slightly. “You’re just too scrawny.”
Egg strained, face scrunched with effort, fingertips brushing leaves but missing the fruit by a frustrating inch. “Still too far!” With a defeated huff, he slid back down as Dunk carefully lowered him to the ground. “If she climbs up too, I think she can reach.”
Both of them turned to look at you.
You studied the branch, then Dunk, then the distance between them, calculating carefully. When you met Dunk’s eyes, his ears reddened at once.
“On me?” he asked, uncertainty creeping into his voice.
“Unless you’d like to borrow a ladder from the sky Ser,” Egg said brightly, stepping aside and flopping down into the long grass.
Dunk swallowed, then nodded stiffly as he crouched again, bracing his feet into the earth. “Careful.”
You stepped closer, placing your hands lightly on his shoulders. Even through the fabric of his tunic, you could feel the heat of him, the steady strength beneath your fingers. With a quiet breath, you climbed, settling carefully as he straightened beneath your weight.
His hands came automatically to your thighs to steady you, firm and certain, yet hesitant all the same. The warmth of his palms through the thin fabric sent a faint shiver up your spine. He froze for a heartbeat, jaw tightening as he squared his stance and focused on holding still.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then your thigh slipped slightly on his shoulder.
His hands shot up at once, gripping your waist to catch you before you could fall. The contact was firm, protective, and entirely necessary, yet the sudden closeness sent a spark through both of you. His breath hitched, chest rising sharply as he adjusted his hold, guiding your balance with careful restraint.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“It’s… it’s fine,” you answered, though your voice came out rougher than you intended.
Dunk went rigid the instant your weight settled properly against him. He had meant only to steady you. That was all. Yet the warmth of you beneath his hands, the softness of your form, scattered every careful thought. You were warmer than he expected, softer too, and the awareness of exactly where his hands rested made heat rush painfully up his neck.
His fingers tightened reflexively, anchoring you before you could slip again, and the realization of the intimacy of the gesture left his breath stuttering. He fixed his eyes stubbornly on the bark of the tree, jaw clenched, willing himself to stay steady.
“Sorry,” you murmured again as you shifted slightly to reach higher.
The movement only made it worse.
He swallowed hard, adjusting his grip just enough to keep you balanced, his heart hammering so loudly he was certain Egg could hear it. He did not dare look at you, afraid of what his face might reveal.
You leaned forward, stretching, fingertips brushing the apple at last. For a heartbeat you wobbled, and Dunk reacted without thinking, hands tightening to steady you.
The closeness stole his breath. Seven hells.
Every instinct in him warred between honor, restraint, and a helpless, aching awareness of you so close against him. He had never been this near to a woman before, not like this. A few clumsy encounters came to mind, the fleeting hands, clumsy kisses, but he had never known what it was to feel another body pressed so close, warm and breathing and undeniably real. The unfamiliar closeness stirred something in him he had neither words nor defenses for.
“Almost,” you whispered. “Still just a little bit... to far.” you strained to reach higher.
“Why don’t you lift her?” Egg suggested easily, squinting up at the branches.
Dunk shot him a look of sheer alarm, his face flushing hot in an instant. He shook his head, panic flickering in his eyes. Lift her? Seven hells, no. The thought alone sent his heart skidding wildly. He opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again, at a loss for any argument that didn’t sound foolish.
Dunk swallowed hard.
“Aye,” he managed at last, his voice rough. He lowered you carefully until your feet touched solid ground again, keeping his hands at your waist a heartbeat longer than necessary, as though afraid you might topple. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he stepped forward, his tall frame blocking the sun as he loomed close.
“Hold still,” he murmured.
His hands settled at your waist, large and warm, fingers spreading with deliberate care. The contact sent a jolt through him. He drew a slow breath, steadying himself, then lifted, slow, controlled, raising you higher toward the branches.
You felt the strength in him immediately, the sure steadiness of his grip, the way his muscles flexed beneath your weight. For all his size, he was gentle, lifting you as though you were something fragile.
His breath hitched as you shifted, instinctively tightening his hold to keep you balanced. Color crept up his neck and into his cheeks, and he stubbornly fixed his gaze on the tree above, anywhere but where his hands rested.
“Got you,” he said quietly.
You reached higher, stretching, and he had to adjust his grip again, hands firming as he anchored you more securely. His jaw clenched, heart pounding, every nerve aware of the closeness, the warmth, the undeniable reality of you in his arms. He kept his eyes locked on the branches, as though daring himself not to notice anything else.
Your heart raced. You could feel every breath he took, every tense muscle holding you aloft.
“Almost there,” you whispered.
You stretched again, fingertips brushing the lowest apple. Just a little farther... Got it.
Then your balance slipped.
Dunk yelped as you both went down, tumbling backward in a startled tangle. He twisted instinctively, taking the brunt of the fall, hitting the ground with a heavy thud as you landed atop him in a rush of breath and startled laughter. A sharp crack sounded overhead.
A heartbeat later, apples rained down around you, thudding into the dirt and rolling through the grass.
Egg burst into helpless laughter.
You lifted your head, cheeks flushed, meeting Dunk’s wide, stunned gaze. For a moment, neither of you moved. His face burned scarlet, chest heaving, mortification and relief warring in equal measure.
“Well,” you murmured softly, smiling, “that worked.”
Dunk groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a heartbeat, silently thankful you didn’t fall three inches lower.
For a long moment after the fall, neither of you moved. Dunk lay flat on his back in the grass, chest rising and falling a little too fast, staring up at the pale sky as though it might offer answers. You were half sprawled across him, one hand braced against his shoulder, your hair spilling loose over his chest. The warmth of you lingered everywhere, in the press of your hips, the brush of your fingers, the faint hitch in his breathing.
Then laughter bubbled up from your throat, soft and bright, and the tension snapped.
You pushed yourself upright, brushing grass from your skirts, still smiling down at him. Dunk sat up more slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, face burning scarlet all the way to the tips of his ears. Apples lay scattered around, their sweet scent drifting on the air, but neither of you seemed in much hurry to gather them.
Egg was still laughing somewhere nearby, but his voice felt distant.
You lingered close, watching Dunk from beneath your lashes, the late sunlight catching the red still staining his cheeks and ears. Slowly, deliberately, you tipped your chin up to meet his gaze.
“You’re blushing again,” you teased softly.
Dunk froze, then blinked. His hand lifted halfway to his face before dropping again, useless. “I.. I am not.”
“You are,” you insisted gently, stepping a little closer. “All the way up to your ears.”
His mouth opened, then closed. For a heartbeat, he looked utterly lost. Then his shoulders sagged just a fraction, the tension easing out of him.
“You make me blush,” he admitted, voice low and awkward and entirely sincere as he looked at the ground
Your teasing smile softened into something quieter, something that made his chest tighten. The world seemed to narrow to the crackle of the fire and the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat.
''I like making you blush. You look so handsome. My dear sweet handsome knight. It is my dearest wish to have your only blush for me but I fear I would have to fight off all your other admirers. Do you think me capable Ser.''
Dunk stiffened for a heartbeat, then let out a soft, low chuckle, the warmth in his gaze never faltering, even as his ears colored faintly.
Egg chose that moment to wander back over, arms laden with the glorious victory, shiny green orbs of sweetness, expression far too knowing for a boy his age. He took one look at Dunk’s face and snorted.
“Gods, you look like a boiled beet, Ser.”
Dunk groaned. “Don’t.”
Egg grinned wickedly. “You know, blushing like that usually means you’re thinking about something you shouldn’t.”
“Listen you I am...was not,” Dunk snapped, though it lacked all heat.
Egg’s grin widened. “You are too Ser. And I know what.”
Dunk made a grab for him. Egg yelped and darted away, laughter ringing through the clearing as he vanished into the dark.
You watched them fondly, then turned back to Dunk, who still flustered, lunged after the little squire.
So what do you think? I have been writing furiously through the night to write a few more ideas for Dunk and my Baelor fic...maybe for an unpublish Lyonel x Reader on and I still want to write more so....
If you have any questions or requests for Dunk and his Smiling Lady ask them now! I go back to work on Monday so plan on writing as much as I can for this fandom and a few other I write for before then.
But as always thank you for being so supportive and the lovely comments!!! Please like, comment, suggest
the sting of his huge palm against your backside is a sharp, shocking heat.
SMACK
“i warned you," ser dunk rumbles, his deep voice a low vibration that travels up your spine even as his other hand soothes over the small of your back.
you're draped over large thighs, another sharp slap, harder this time, draws a yelp from your lips that you try to muffle in your arm.
“and then i warned you again," he continues, his rhythm merciless, a volley of stinging spanks that leaves you breathless and squirming. his caressing hand pauses, resting firmly in the middle of your back, holding you in place.
"you will learn to heed my word. it is for your safety.” he delivers a final, particularly harsh spank red hot before soothing it over with his calloused hand. then a series of smacks to the tender curve where your ass meets your thighs, leaving you whining out half apologies. and just as you think you can't take another, the punishment stops.
you lie still over his lap, breathing heavily, waiting for another sharp smack. instead, you feel his hand move lower, his calloused fingers trailing down the curve of your ass and pause, then brush against the damp fabric of your smallclothes. he makes a low sound in his throat, more like a grunt of discovery than anything else. "hmph," he mutters, his voice still stern and devoid of any warmth. "so that's the way of it." his fingers press more firmly against you, rubbing through the soaked cloth with a clinical, almost detached curiosity. he isn't trying to arouse you, he's simply... confirming.
“i won’t do it again ser…please!” you mewl.
he pulls the fabric aside, one thick finger probes, sliding through your slickness and pushing into. he pumps it in and out a few times, his other hand still holding you firmly in place.
"this is what gets your attention, then," he states, his voice flat and judgmental. "not words, not warnings…poor girl.” his movements are soft now, almost trying to soothe you now. he's just using another way to impose his will and ensure you don't get yourself killed. that is the last thing he wants and you know of it. you know the lesson was meant to keep you safe.
"perhaps next time i tell you not to do something, you'll remember this feeling and think twice my love.”
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-honeymoon love making, p in v, slight breast play, cumming inside, size kink, lots of kissing and i think that's it! sorry if there are any spelling mistakes lol ᥫ᭡
the grass was soft and cool beneath the thick wool blanket, a lush carpet under the moon drenched sky. you were nestled against your husband’s side, his arm a solid, warm band around your shoulders, his sheer bulk a comforting wall against the night’s gentle chill. before you, the river flowed, a ribbon of liquid silver catching the light of the stars and the huge, pale moon.
it was a perfect moment on your honeymoon, a world away from the duties and eyes of the people
you tilted your head back to look at him. even sitting, duncan was a mountain. the hand resting on your shoulder was so large it could have spanned your entire back. he was watching the water, a soft, contented look on his face, but he felt your gaze and turned his head, his blue eyes, the color of a summer sky, crinkling at the corners with a gentle smile.
"what is it, my love?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that you felt more in your own chest than you heard with your ears.
"nothing," you whispered, pressing a kiss to the fabric covering his shoulder. "just…simply contented."
he ducked his head, his nose nudging against your hair, inhaling deeply. "i want you to be happy all the days of your life m’lady." he paused, his lips brushing against your temple.
you shifted, turning more fully into him, your hand resting on the hard plane of his stomach. "i would like to do something now dunk…"
"and what is it you want to do?"
you took a shaky breath, "you," you answered simply. "all of you. to make love now like husbands and wives do."
his gaze softened,"are you certain?" he asked, his thumb stroking your arm. "i do not wish to…frighten you. i am not a small man, in any regard."
the unspoken warning hung between you. you had been raised in a keep with many sisters and maids…you knew the basics of what happened between a husband and wife, but you also knew duncan was built on a scale other men could only dream of. a flicker of apprehension warred with a desperate, consuming need for him.
"i'm certain," you said, your voice firm. "i trust you, dunk."
that was all it took. he claimed your mouth. the kiss was a gentle and hungry claiming. his other hand came up to tangle in your hair, holding you steady as he devoured you. when you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily.
he shifted, moving back on the blanket, pulling you with him until you were seated on top, straddling his huge thighs. the world narrowed to the feel of him beneath you, the hard muscle, the steady thrum of his heart. his hands were at the laces of your gown, his long fingers surprisingly deft as they worked the knots. soon, your dress was lifted over your head and became bunched fabric beside the blanket, and the cool night air kissed your bare skin.
duncan’s hands roamed your body, learning every curve, every dip. they were huge, his palms rough, but his touch was reverent. he mapped your skin as if you were a precious territory he had just conquered.
"you are the most perfect thing i’ve ever seen- ehm, touched-" he breathes, his large hands palming and squeezing gently at your breasts.
you were lost in a haze of sensation, your own then hands fumbling with getting him out of his breeches. when you finally freed him, you gasped.
he was right to warn you. he was massive. his fat cock, hard and heavy in your grasp, was a thing of impossible size and girth, the veins prominent, the head a red-ish almost purple in this light, and flushed dark leaking pre-cum. a mix of fear and exhilaration shot through you.
"dunk," you whisper, your eyes wide as you stroked him experimentally. he hissed, his hips bucking slightly.
"easy, my girl," he gritted out, his hands on your waist, holding you still. "i need…i need to be inside you. but we'll do it slow. i’ve never done anything like this but i'll help you."
he guided you, and held his heavy shaft steady, the blunt head nudging against your slick entrance. he looked up at you, his eyes dark with concern and lust. "breathe," he commanded softly. "bit of a stretch now…just sink down. a little at a time. i have you."
you obeyed, lowering yourself onto him. the initial stretch was a shock, a burning, intense pressure that stole your breath. it was almost too much, like shoving a pole inside you he was so big, so thick. small cry escaped your lips.
"ahh! ngh- dunk!"
"shh, i know, i know," he soothed, his hands gripping your hips firmly. "don't fight it. let me." he began to help you sink down further letting your cunt flutter, try to, around his shaft.
once you’ve adjusted enough, he begins to rock you gently, a subtle roll of his own powerful hips that worked him deeper into you. he was doing most of the work, lifting and lowering you, controlling the pace, letting your body adjust to his overwhelming size.
the pain began to fade, you felt the thin barrier of your innocence give way, a sharp sting that made you flinch, but duncan’s steadiness and gentleness grounded you.
"there now," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "good girl."
finally, you were fully seated, your hips flush with his. you felt stretched, claimed, utterly full of him. you stayed like that for a long moment, just breathing together, your bodies joined as one. you could feel his thundering heartbeat against your back where you leaned forward.
"move for me, whenever yer ready-" he urged, his voice a low growl.
you began to move, an experimental rock of your hips. it was awkward at first, but his hands guided you, his grip firm and sure. soon you found a rhythm, lifting and dropping yourself onto his chubby cock. each downward stroke sending a jolt of pure pleasure through you. the sight of him below you, his eyes glazed over with lust and love, was the most intoxicating thing you had ever seen. his jaw clenched in concentration as you rode him, your tits bouncing in his face.
but he wanted more. with a sudden, fluid motion he wrapped his arms around you and rolled you onto your back without ever breaking the connection. he moved with a startling grace, a controlled strength that countered his size. one moment you were on top, and the next, you were on your back on the soft blanket, his massive frame blanketing yours. the moonlight illuminated your face in a soft glow as he looked down at you now, his arms braced on either side of your head, caging you in. he was so big, so broad, that he blotted out the stars. for a moment, he just looked at you, his chest heaving.
"i was afraid i would crush you," he admitted, his voice a low, rough whisper. "like this…i can see you. i can kiss you."
and then he did. he lowered his head, his mouth finding yours in a deep, possessive kiss that was worlds different from the one before. this was slower, deeper, a kiss of a husband to his wife, of a man claiming his heart and soul. his hips began to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that was nothing short of divine.
being taken like this was different. he was in complete control, setting a pace that was both powerful and patient. each long, deep stroke made you whine and moan int the back of your hand, the sheer size of him was no longer a source of pain but of insane pleasure.
you felt every thick inch of him, the head of his cock dragging against your inner walls in a way that made your toes curl.
"my wife," he groaned against your lips, the words a sacred vow. "you are my wife."
"my husband," you gasped back, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, your nails digging into the muscle of his back. "m’only yours, dunk."
the sound of his name on your lips seemed to undo him. his rhythm grew more urgent, his thrusts deeper, harder. the grass, the river, the moon, it all faded away until there was nothing but him.
"dunk please don’t stop, please-!" you whine into his mouth, as the two of you try to kiss, you brace your other hand to hold at his forearm. trying to grind yourself down onto his cock and hand where his thumb is just catching your clit rubbing at it with such pressure.
"your hands are so big! m’going to c- i might scream! kiss me, kiss me-"
a cry tore from your throat as waves of pleasure crashed over you, but just before you could really wake the whole of westeros he captures your lips in a kiss that is intense and all consuming. your body arched against his, your inner walls pulsing around his massive cock.
dunk followed you over the edge with a guttural roar, his own release flooding you, a deep, powerful pulse that you felt in the very depths of your soul. "i love you, i love you-" he mumbled over and over against your lips.
he collapsed onto you, not with his full weight, but enough to press you into the blanket, his face buried in the crook of your neck. you were both slick with sweat, breathing heavily, your hearts beating a frantic, synchronized rhythm against each other's chests.
for a long time, you lay there in silence, just listening to the sound of the river and the soft sighs of the wind. he shifted, rolling to his side but keeping you tucked against him, one of your legs thrown over his, his arm still banded around your waist.
he kissed your forehead, your temple, the tip of your nose.
"are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft and laced with a concern that made your heart ache.
you hummed contentedly, snuggling deeper into his embrace. "i'm more than alright, husband. i'm fully yours."
he tilted your chin up, his blue eyes shining in the moonlight. "i really do love you."
you smiled, a slow, satisfied smile. "and i really do love you dunk…"
the first time you ride ser dunk's big thighs ☘︎ ݁˖
-18+ big time size kink, thigh riding, cumming in pants, messy makeouts and some groping from dunk lol! ᥫ᭡
the first time you ever come upon the idea of straddling one of the giant knight's thighs is when you were standing in the empty training yard, save for the two of you. the last rays of the setting sun had bled from the sky, leaving the world in a deep, soft purple twilight.
you had finally convinced dunk to let you playfully practice as a knight yourself.
your muscles screamed with a sweet, familiar ache, a testament to hours spent with sword and shield in your hands…his sword and shield.
every movement he made seemed to echo in your own weary limbs. you were tired, bone-deep, but it was a different kind of exhaustion that was beginning to take hold, a low, insistent thrumming that started and spread like warm honey through your body…with his scent of sweat, earth and the cold steel he handled so expertly. with the deep, rumbling timbre of his voice when he corrected your stance, his large hands steadying your waist, his touch a brand even through the thick fabric of your linen dress.
ser duncan moved with a quiet grace despite his immense size, a mountain of a man, his broad back to you, the linen strained over powerful shoulders. then he turned, "you fought well today, m'lady. your form improves." he praises with a smile on his face.
"thank you, ser," you managed, your voice softer than you intended. you couldn't tear your eyes away from him. he was so large, so solid, the thought was sudden and overwhelming, a desperate, shameless need to be close to that strength, to feel it against you, to lose yourself in it.
he began to walk towards the shed armory, and you found your feet moving, following him as if pulled by an invisible string. he set the sword aside with a quiet clang and moved to sit on a sturdy wooden bench, the kind used for squires to clean their masters' armor. it groaned slightly under his weight, a sound that sent a jolt straight through you.
he looked up at you, his expression unreadable in the dim light from a single sputtering torch. "something troubles you m'lady?"
you couldn't answer with words. your throat was tight. instead, you shook your head and closed the distance between you, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. you stopped before him, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body. hesitantly, you lifted a hand and placed it on his shoulder, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric.
his gaze didn't waver. he simply watched you, his patience an endearing thing.
he was a man who understood the language of the body, of instinct and action, far better than the fumbling complexities of words. you swung a leg over his lap, not to straddle him in the way a lover would, but to settle yourself firmly upon his powerful thigh. the hard, corded muscle of his leg was perfect, a solid ridge of pressure right against your clothed clit.
a soft gasp escaped your lips at the feeling.
his hands came to rest on your hips, not guiding, not pushing, just holding you steady.
"what is it you need, sweet girl?" his voice was a low murmur, vibrating through his chest and into yours. "did i tire you so? i’m happy to carry you back-"
you couldn't speak. you just shook your head, a blush creeping up your neck. instead, you began to move. it was a slow, tentative rock at first, a subtle grinding of your hips against the hard muscle of his thigh.
the friction was immediate, a delicious spark that ignited the low thrumming on your clit. it felt shameful, wanton, you were desperate to wash away the fatigue.
"do you ache?" he murmurs quietly,
you found a rhythm, your movements growing more confident, more urgent. your hands gripped his shoulders for leverage, your head falling forward, your brow resting against his.
your lack of response only prompted him to press a couple of slow sweet kisses to your cheek and jaw.
his thigh was so large, so solid beneath you, and the pressure was just right, his hands, which had been still on your hips, began to move with you. they didn't direct you, but followed your rhythm, his thumbs stroking circles over your hipbones, a silent encouragement from him.
the air grew thick with the sounds of your soft pants and the whisper of fabric against fabric. big palms coming down now to knead the flesh of your ass as if it were dough.
"dunk..." you can only mumble his name as the coil inside you wound tighter and tighter, your movements becoming more erratic, more frantic. just as you felt the first shocks of your climax begin to unfurl, his voice broke through the haze of your pleasure.
"do you want my cock?" his question was blunt, crude, yet spoken in that same low, calm tone. it cut through your desperation like a shard of ice, and your movements faltered. you lifted your head to look at him, his eyes dark pools in the torchlight.
you tried to form a response, to explain the feeling inside you. "no…i mean, yes...gods, ser, i don't know," you stammered, your voice breathy and thin.
"this...this feels so good. you're so...large. so strong. just this...the pressure...it's..." you couldn't find the words. how could you explain that this simple act, this desperate rubbing against him like a cat in heat, was more more overwhelming, than anything you had ever imagined? that the sheer size and power of his thighs and arms, the strength of them, was driving you to madness in a way the thought of his cock also did?
he seemed to understand. a ghost of a smile touched his lips, and his hands tightened on your ass, guiding you back into your rhythm. your hand trailed down to feel the hardened thick, length of his fat cock straining against the fabric.
"please…ser…please…"
"then take what you need," he murmured, his voice a deep, resonant caress.
"i need you, only you."
his control shatters at your raw confession. with a guttural groan muffled against your neck, he spends himself. you feel the sudden, intense heat bloom through the front of his trousers as he pulses, his thick cock throbbing with each powerful spurt of his seed that soaks the rough cloth. "pleasure yourself on me." pressing another semi wet kiss to your cheek with a sound that was your undoing. with a choked cry, you gave yourself over to the sensation completely. the coil inside you snapped with the force of a taut bowstring, and your orgasm crashed over you in blinding waves.
a cry tore from your throat as you convulsed against him, your body bucking and trembling. your nails dug into his biceps as wave after wave of intense pleasure pulsed through you, leaving you breathless and boneless. you could feel the wet heat of your release soaking through his trousers, a slick, undeniable proof of your desire marking his leg.
you collapsed against him, limp and spent, your face buried in the crook of his neck. he held you, his strong arms wrapping around your back, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.
for a long moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing and the crackle of the torch. you were vaguely aware of the mess you had made, a hot blush of embarrassment beginning to creep in on both your faces.
he had done this for you, given you this release without seeking his own really…just feeling you and seeing you please yourself on him was enough. the thought sent a fresh wave of warmth through your chest.
"better?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
you could only nod, a lazy, satisfied smile touching your lips.
summary: reader and dunk (and egg) get all cozy during a cold, snowy day. a nice scenario for those of us who are swamped by this snowstorm!
warnings: none! fluff :)
words: 1.9k
a/n: can't wait to get all warm and cozy and watch episode two oh boy oh boy! heh... it'd be so cool if someone would give me a request or a comment or something... just thinking out loud here...
You could feel the tips of your ears going numb as you, Dunk, and Egg made your way down the snowy path to a local town. Conversation between the three of you grew quiet as you all succumbed to exhaustion. Egg was on your horse right in front of you, shaking and cold under his cloak. You knew he was capable, but he was still a child and it felt horrible to see him so miserable. You try to warm him up, but at the rate the snow was going, there wasn’t much you could do. So, the feeling of relief the three of you felt when you saw the lights of a town warming the horizon as you came up the hill was tremendous. You and Dunk share a look, and pick up the pace to the town. As soon as you could, you docked your horses at the stable and frantically tried to find the nearest inn.
As soon as Dunk found one with an available room, he returned to you and Egg, the two of you still talking to the stablehands.
“I found one- got us a room. Let’s warm up before you two get frostbite.”
You sigh, stomach rumbling, “I won’t be able to rest properly before I get a meal. A real one. I’ll go get us food. You go rest.”
Dunk doesn’t quite like the idea, but you seem certain, and he is certainly hungry, so he decides to take the favor and mentally promises you one in the future. “If you’re sure… just be back soon.”
The walk to the tavern is downright miserable, but the smell of the food as you enter, and the warmth that surrounds you makes it immediately worth it. The scent of rum and meat fills you, and you find yourself ordering a bit more than you originally planned to. Three bowls of beef stew, a loaf of bread, and three roasted apples later, your satchel is full and you’re ready to deliver the food back to the boys in the inn.
You walk as fast as you can to the inn through the snow, the tip of your nose both numb and stinging. The snow is beautiful, but painful. You wipe the snowflakes from your eyelashes, hugging your bag full of warm food to keep yourself warm as well.
By the time you get to the inn, Dunk is waiting in the lobby, now in his leisure clothes, a thin long sleeved shirt with a stretched out collar and his slightly too short pants. He rushes towards you the second you enter, all bundled up with flushed cheeks and a slight shiver. He’d be embarrassed to admit it, but a part of him is more focused on how cute you look, waddling in with your giant overcoat.
“Are you alright? Lost any fingers?” He asks, taking the satchel from you.
“Fine,” You respond, “Feels like heaven in here…”
Dunk ushers you up to your room, his large hand lightly ghosting your lower back. When you went in you saw Egg was asleep on the bed. “You still look cold. You should get out of your clothes-” He says, before quickly shutting his mouth and looking away. “Uh- and… change into warm ones.”
He wakes up Egg, who sleepily eats his stew on the floor as you go off to change and bathe. When you return, Egg has fallen back asleep, claiming one of the beds as his own.
“The kid could barely keep his eyes open. Promised not to be a bother then hogged one of the beds to himself.” Dunk says, watching as you put your cloak over him. “You feeling any warmer?” He asks, watching as you dry your hair.
“Mhm… still a bit chilly in here though, isn’t it?” You respond, eagerly reaching for the food. “Let’s just eat and head to sleep quick.”
The two of you do just that, eating together, now warmed inside and out, you sigh contentedly, looking at the empty bed in the corner of the room. Dunk did the same, eyes slightly widening, “Oh- uh, I can share with the little cunt if you want.” He says quickly.
You appreciated the courtesy, but found yourself wishing he wasn’t so consistently modest. “It’s so cold though. Won’t you help warm me up?” You ask, tilting your head at him.
Dunk’s face turns red, staring at you, “Oh- uh- oh. Uh… right, yeah- I owe- I owe you for the food, don’t I?” He says, though his eagerness to join you is evident in the way he stands up quickly. He helps you up gently, before standing at the foot of the bed, watching you for your next move.
“Well?” You hum, nodding your head towards the bed. Dunk perks up with a quick “Uh- right.” and gets into bed, the frame creaking beneath him. He really was tall, his body easily taking up the entire mattress even while he was trying to make room for you, pressing himself up against the wall.
You wriggle your way into the covers, sighing blissfully while enjoying the silky feeling of the sheets against your legs. “It’s so nice, isn’t it?” You hum. Dunk’s eyes haven’t left your face. “Yeah… warm.” Dunk steels himself before nervously letting his body relax a bit, his side touching yours. He’s never shared a bed with someone like this before. He’s never seen someone like you before either. Even the top of your head is pretty he thinks as he looks down at you. You were starting to shiver again, the hot water from your bath now cooling. He reminds himself that he’s here to warm you up- that’s his mission as of now- his duty. So, he gathers some of the blanket in his arms and in a burst of bravery, wraps his arm around your shoulder. He glances down at your face to make sure you’re not cringing in disgust at his touch, and seeing the pleasant smile on your face, he lets himself breathe.
You flip over, laying on your side to face Dunk, arms clinging to his wide chest and a leg thrown around his torso with a content huff, and he forgets how to breathe all over again. “Are you warm?” He asks, hand now on your back as he holds you to him. You seem to be practically asleep as you sleepily murmur in affirmation. Dunk feels a little sleepy too, the cozy warm lighting of the torches and the raring snowstorm outside not helping, but he can’t quite relax with such an attractive companion on his chest. Despite himself, he puts a hand on your head, stringing his fingers through your hair. I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life in this moment, he thinks. He wants nothing more than to kiss your head, hold you even closer and declare how he feels, but even the bravest of knights can be cowardly sometimes. As he shuts his eyes he imagines telling you everything you make him feel, as he does many a night, and hopes you dream of him too.
ooh maybe something where dunk is injured in a tourney and reader has to patch him up!! Can’t get enough of ur writing 🙂↕️🙂↕️
Patching Up Ser Duncan The Tall!
(ser duncan the tall x gn! reader)
summary: after dunk took a tumble during a tourney, embarrassing himself in front of you once again, you patch him up. awkwardness ensues <3
warnings: fluff! vague description of an injury
word count: 923
a/n: love this request! love dunk! i wrote the first half then paused to watch the new episode, imagine my happiness when dunk says "you must think me a fool" right after i had written a line very similar to that. anywho! thank you for the request anon! hope i did it justice xoxo
Well, it was bound to happen eventually. At least, that’s what Dunk tells himself when he falls prone on the ground after his opponent stabs his side with a concealed (and unpermitted) dagger. It was humiliating- truly. Not only to have fallen face down into the dirt, but to have fallen in front of you. You were his travelling companion, a kind person who’d proven yourself useful to him more than enough times. He’d fallen smitten with you the second he saw you, your eyes glimmered as they met his, and he’d promptly tripped over his own feet trying to walk towards you. It seemed he couldn’t go more than a day without embarrassing himself.
Egg worriedly dragged him off the field with the help of a few guardsmen as he writhed in pain. The last thing he remembers before passing out was seeing you running towards him.
Dunk sat up with a start the second he woke up, and promptly regretted it as he felt his side sting. He groans, clutching the bloodied bandages. Getting his bearings, he finally looks to his right, seeing you trying to ease him back down. He complies, of course, face reddening.
“Oh, hello…” He manages, pain quickly taking a place in the back of his mind when he sees your beautiful face looking down nervously at him.
“How are you feeling, love? Are you alright?” You say quickly, holding his face.
“Yeah- Yes, I’m fine, of course I’m fine.” He says, trying to keep any semblance of strength he may still have as he melts under your touch. Love, He thinks, You called me love!
“Please, lay back” You mumble, moving the bandages out of the way to put a wet rag on his injury. “I’m going to have to switch out the bandages again. They’re too thin…”
Dunk follows your orders obediently, staring up at you as you work on him. Every once and a while your ever gentle hands would touch a particularly hurting spot, and he’d try to conceal a flinch. You looked so angelic, eyebrows knit in concentration as you tended to him. You could feel your face growing heated under his gaze. You weren’t sure if he’d looked anywhere but at you in the last ten minutes. It didn’t help that he was currently shirtless beneath your hands, a welcome sight for sure if it weren't for the giant gash bloodying his side.
“You must think me rather foolish, huh?” Dunk says, putting on a brave smile.
“No, not totally.” You respond, “ You’re a brave man, Dunk. A strong one too, with a good heart. A man like that can’t be foolish.” Dunk can’t think of anything he’d rather hear. A small smile graces his face, he looks away, suddenly too flustered to make eye contact. “Well- Thank you.” He says, raising his hand to brush his hair out of his face.
You lean back once you’ve finished retying the bandage, patting his chest.
“Well then, you’re good to go.” You say, stretching. “Oh- not, ‘get up and go’ go, just- I’m done.”
“Right. Got that.” He responds, “When do you think I’ll be able to ‘get up and go’ then?”
“A couple days I’d reckon.” You hum, inspecting your handiwork. “In the meanwhile, if you must go somewhere, ask me or Egg to assist you, okay?”
Dunk just nods, watching as you pace around. “I’m sorry you had to patch me up. Where’s the little runt anyways?”
“Out tending to the horses. Or trying anyways, they barely respond when he asks them to move. It’s pretty cute honestly.”
Dunk can only let out an amused laugh. To be quite frank, he was a little nervous talking to you without his reluctant wingman there with him. He’s never been too good at talking. Guess he might as well try his hand at it now. “What’s your… uh- How’d you learn how to do that?”
“What?”
Dunk winces, “The bandages. Where’d you learn that…”
“Ah.” You smile, “It was the only thing they’d let me do around the jousts. I wanted to take care of the horses but they said they were too unruly for someone like me. I was safer off helping the wounded knights.”
“Sounds gruesome.” He says, thinking of all the people he’s seen hurt from tourneys.
“The worst part was the weird flirts they’d try to hurl at me. Calling me a catch- or pretty, and the likes.” You say with a face of contempt.
Oh no, Dunk thinks, face paling, “Hope I’m not contributing to that…”
“What? No! You- you’re far different from those old lads!” You correct quickly, maybe a bit too quickly quite frankly. “I wouldn’t mind if it was you…” You say before you can stop yourself.
“Oh. Good to know.” He says, falling silent again.
The two of you just sort of sit there, faces flushed. After a long moment of contemplation, Dunk opens his mouth again (much to his own dismay), “Well, for the record I do think- I do think you’re pretty.”
You glance at him just as he glances at you, eyes wide with nerves. “Thank you…” You muster, “For the record, I think you’re quite ‘a catch’...”
You can’t help but let out a breathy laugh, this conversation getting just a bit too cringeworthy for your tastes.
Egg walks into the tent to see the two of you sat in uncomfortable silence, both looking simultaneously horrified and the happiest you’ve ever been. He promptly walks right back out.
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i could you do a ser duncan imagine where hes jealous? i think that would be so cute! seeing how frustrated he would get
Ser Duncan the Tall Getting Jealous!
(ser duncan the tall x gn! reader)
summary: you find yourself enjoying a storyteller's stories a bit too much for dunks liking
warnings: slight mention of unwanted flirting
word count: 966
a/n: posting this in a rush before my class not proofread sorry i hope u like it anon!
Ser Duncan knows he has no good reason to be so jealous over you talking to some storyteller in the town you’re stopped at. First, the guy’s a dork- Dunk could fold him in half if he really wanted. Secondly, you weren’t his by any means. Dunk had no claim over you even if he wanted to, which he does. Of course he does.
Dunk finds himself trailing behind you as you eagerly go to talk to the storyteller again, asking him how he created the stories he told. You looked so excited talking to him. If Dunk had a choice, he’d much rather you give your attention to another knight or someone he could challenge and beat. Going after a man like that though? That’s a low blow. He was visibly much more smart than Dunk, he could write an interesting story, weave words so beautifully, and he could talk to you without making a fool of himself. Quite frankly, he had everything Dunk feared he lacked. It didn’t help that Egg was also captivated by the stories this man told.
Dunk fiddles with his shield behind you as you ask question after question to the storyteller. He wants nothing more than to lift you up and get you out of this stupid tent. The storyteller watches Dunk with some caution, the giant man behind you clearly unhappy, but decides to ignore him.
“So, my dear, if you’d like a more detailed look into the writing process, why don’t you come to my tent tonight for some wine and merriment? I’m throwing a little party to celebrate my next short story.” He says with a smile and half-lidded eyes.
You look truly delighted to be invited, charmed by his cheeky grin, Dunk thinks. “We will see if we can make it.” Dunk says, inviting himself as he steps up to your side with a frown, his hand finding your upper back.
“Right, well, I suppose you can come along too.” The writer retorts, a dour look on his face.
That night, the two of you make your way back to the tent right on time- Is that a new oil in your hair? Dunk notes, not enjoying seeing you so excited to chat with someone else. Despite himself, he lets you eagerly lead the way into the party. He tries his best to ghost behind you the whole night, but it becomes increasingly difficult when the storyteller rushes right up to you with a smile, pulling you towards the dance.
Dunk pushes through the crowd, trying to spot you. You blended in too well, and the tent was so dimly lit he could barely see what he was doing. Luckily that insolent writer was dressed in bright colors.
As soon as Dunk spotted you, he rushed to your side. He feels bad, but he can’t take this anymore.
“We need to be leaving. Now.” He says, hand on your side as he ushers you away, leaving no room for disagreement.
The second the two of you are out of the tent and sat down outside, he sighs, “Sorry. I- I really don’t trust that man.” His jealousy was certainly visible now, but quite frankly, he held no remorse for his actions.
You put a hand on his leg, a light smile dusting your face, “To be honest, at the end there I was sort of hoping you’d come find me. He was starting to weird me out as well.”
“Yeah.” You reply, “‘Think I finally caught on that he was not just eagerly excited to talk about his book.”
“So you don’t like him?” Dunk asks, leaning in.
“What?! No! Did you see his mustache?”
“I wasn’t sure if that was something you liked or not…”
“No one would like something like that, Dunk.”
Dunk relaxes, relief evident on his face, “Right. That’s good then.”
You grin, “Why do you seem so relieved?”
Your words make Dunk straighten. He had been rather obvious, hadn’t he? He hadn’t meant to be so blatant with his thoughts, though it seems that’s all he’s good at.
“W- I just- I just don’t like that guy.” He manages, staring at you as if to see if you believed him. You did not.
Dunk’s face is beet red at this point, “I don’t like the idea of anyone else taking your time. Not in that way.”
Now it was your turn to fluster. So, that was it, wasn't it? He really did like you. To Dunk, that would be an understatement. He’d do anything for you quite frankly.
“Sorry.” He says again, “Don’t mean for you to be dealing with two guys who fancy you tonight.”
You smile, reaching up to his cheek, “Don’t apologize, I like you too, y'know?"
“You- you do?” He asks, staring down at you and hoping you can’t feel the way his face is burning. You nod, suddenly too shy to say anything more. This was the type of thing he dreamed of. The type of moment he knew would never happen, but hoped for anyways. You looked so perfect, the lights of the tent hitting your face in a way that made you glow.
“Wh- uh, why don’t we find our way back?” He says quickly, getting you to your feet. He was too overwhelmed to stay in this moment much longer. As the two of you started your walk back, Dunk wondered if that was a good call. There was something in the air there, an anticipation of sorts, maybe he should’ve given in. When he looks down however, he feels you loop your arm with his, sending a warm shiver down his spine. Maybe he hadn’t messed it up just yet.
Okay just knockin out drawings tonight but ngl kinda love how this one turned out~
Obligatory “I haven’t played BG3 I just like the OCs” but yeah finally got to @meanbossart ‘s DU Drow. Specifically the Bhaalist version because it reminded me of Eternal Champion’s song A Face in The Glare- which I think is a dorky enough music pull that I can’t be accused of being a fake nerd for not being a gamer
this is not instagram or whatever other like-based social medium, likes don't matter that much, your experience is not shaped by an all-knowing algorithm, but by you and reblogging is the lifeblood of this godforsaken corner of the internet
if you love tumblr and if you want to show your appreciation for the creators of the content here, you reblog
I can't stress enough how many creators I see here that make outstanding art/VPs/fanfiction that get very low engagement compated to clear effort, imagination, and heart they put into it.
Why? Well, people consume with their eyes only (and barely consume at that) by mindlessly scrolling through their dashboard at the speed of sound without bothering to take in the work, to appreciate the time the person put into this work, treating it all like channel switching.
Guess what happens to these creators? They begin doubting their abilities, start feeling that the art they create is pointless. The absence of comments makes the situation even worse, people begin feeling alone, like fandom silently telling them they are unwanted and don't belong.
Guess what's next? They quit. And then people complain that the fandom is dying. Don't want it to die? Don't want to loose your sources of inspiration and joy? Stop consuming, engage and appreciate.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
