Aug 20, 2025
(flirting) what if i named my sword after you and kissed the blade before each battle for good luck
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(flirting) what if i named my sword after you and kissed the blade before each battle for good luck
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The armour does not, in fact, defend from everything - your gaze is able to penetrate this cold metal exterior straight to my very soul. In your presence, I might as well be naked.
Taking a knight fast and hard and watching his big fat cock bounce uselessly.
Doesn’t matter if he’s bigger, a king should be able to top. He moans so pretty anyway.
Thinking about cockwarming again. You and your squire camped out in a cavern to shelter from the wind. He takes your armor off piece by piece to warm you by the fire, and you're just so still as he does. Watching the flush in his cheeks as he reveals more of your skin and god, he must be so warm inside. It's compulsive, you have to be in him now, you need to fill him up, he must be so empty and cold.
Thinking his duty fulfilled, he goes to remove his own damp garments only for you to dig your fingers in his waist and grip him towards you, flesh to flesh. He yelps, no real fight in it. He clatters into your lap, his dripping cunt brushing against you and it's the easiest thing in the world to enter him. It must be godly to fill him up like this, his true duty to take your cock. A good squire and you his good knight. He squirms and moans but you hold him fast against you not giving an inch. And it does the job, that blush all the way down his chest and thighs, you're a good lord for keeping the warmth and hearth for your boy.
I need my dear and loyal knight to desire me so badly I need his thoughts fixated on me I need his lustfull gaze upon my face as I bat my lashes from across the room, knowing full well that his mind is clouded with images of me wrapped around him, I need him to think of me and only me I need him to imagine me between his legs I need his hands wandering I need him to give up all pretence of politeness and and sworn fealty and to touch me with the disrespect I so crave and he just can’t help as he gives in to his desire
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The delicate fingers of his charge worked fastidiously to undo the tight leather straps biting into the Knight's forearm. "T'was foolish of you to challenge the Prince for my hand." The straps came undone, greasy and black into the hands of the princen.
A breathless laugh came from behind the helm. "Would have been foolish of me to let him wed you." The princen's large eyes peered up at him beneath full lashes. A redness blossomed in those cheeks.
The knight closed the distance between them. Steel cuirass meeting white silk. That gloved hand sunk deeper onto that royal shoulder, leather clad thumb finding purchase beneath their collarbone. "You think I'd let anyone else touch you?"
The helm lowered further down, his eyes glinting behind the slits of the visor, gaze boring into them. "Did your grace think I'd let anyone else fuck you?" That voice was dangerously low, viciously possessive. "Perhaps your grace needs a reminder. A show of true dedication to freshen that memory."
Dyslexic Prince asking his Knight to read to him.
The poetry turns out to be the dirty kind.
(The Prince knew that.)
Oh dear sir, are you ashamed? The flush of your cheeks is so adorable. How you get so flustered. I could just kiss you even redder.
Oh my, seems like my words worked just as well. Not even the need. I just have to torture you a little longer. There’s nothing you could truly do to make me regret it after all.