Won't you take care of me, Ser Knight?

|| Your Prince || 25 || He/Him ||

[goodknightspet]

Hi, call me your Prince, your highness, your dark cute thing. Obsessed with some disturbing things sometimes, but won't you take care of me anyway?

Pretty twink with a pussy- please don't call my junk a dick/tdick I'm just not into that personally. Sub/bottom unless I'm really in some kinda demanding mood and even then the most you'll get is a power bottom. Also strictly gay <3 Please don't hit on me if you're a woman <3 Anything I write about here involves consenting adults. If it's a little questionable sometimes? Still consenting adults.

Listing what I'm into would take too long but you'll mostly see me Knight and Royal posting here. Warning for dark kink content as well, in general. You're welcome to flirt, send me asks, etc I love attention <3

[royally-loved]

I cannot be nursed back to health, love. Though I can still be nursed. I may fight it, at times- pride is a pain for us both. Now I crave it, in a way.

Just hold my hand, keep me distracted. Talk about one of those rambling ideas of yours. Please darling. Something to amuse me.

“Kiss me better” you suggest. Even if the idea is simply silly. Though, I entertain you, as you entertain me.

It’s strange. Something about the kiss makes me hurt less. It might simply be the care you have. You take such good care of me.

[prince4knights]

he could easily slay me with his sword, but I could order his execution by morning so, it's mostly even.

[princely-manufactured-boy]

more princes should wear massive skirts with layers of petticoats not only because it's regal but also because you can hide your knight under there and have him suck you off while you're in royal meetings

[robobrat]

in the mood to be stalked through the corridors of my castle by a looming, too-tall presence... appearing suddenly around corners, getting ever closer, all supernatural terror

[goodknightspet]

This Prince can fit so much yearning in it. I mean. I'm certainly not spending too much time staring at the Knights in the training yard, what do you mean? I'm reading. It's not my fault you haven't seen me turn the page, I've definitely been looking at my book this whole time and not at the very sweaty men hitting each other with swords.

[morally-saucy]

[thy-golden-knight]

[ID: two gifs of a knight in a snowy forest. He is tapping his axe on the brigandine and helmet to shake off the snow, while slowly approaching the camera. End ID]

[goodknightspet]

Knightkinktober Week 3 | Token/Pining/Pinning

It feels foolish. He is not the bright-eyed youth he once was. He was a King now- he had been for many years. He was not easily smitten or charmed and he had a good head on his shoulders - one that knew better than to dip his toes into the waters of lust because the current was rapid and it was easy to get pulled away.

But...here he was. His eyes lingering on the young Knight as he watched them all ready their horses for the tourney. Feeling like a fawning Prince again, a flush with anxiety and nerves. Were he still a boy he knew he'd stride right over. Test the waters. Give him a token and tuck it boldly between pieces of his armour and tell him if he won he would help him celebrate.

But he is not a boy anymore. And it would likely be so unwelcome as it was- even his staring felt like he was crossing some boundary, and yet he couldn't drag his eyes away. Not as they mounted and did a few test strides around the arena. Not as they *approached* and bowed their head and thanked him for the invitation. His response to that so practiced he hardly even heard what he said, did not process the words leaving his mouth at all.

"Wish me luck, your Highness? Perhaps with your favour I will pull out a victory yet."

The man says it with such smugness that for a moment the King wonders if the man could physically hear his thoughts. He clears his throat. Tries not to stammer as he says, "Of course. Of course, I wish you your victory." He digs out a Handkerchief. It is stupid to give a token. That's the privilege of youth. But he's stunned, and clumsy, and he had been pining since the man first caught his eye. It was presented before he had even thought about it, and accepted and tucked into the man's gauntlet before he had a chance to think about how to take it back and not make a fool of himself.

But it helps, he supposes. Or victory just matters much to the young lad. He fights in the tourney with a passion. Vicious and efficient. The King watches how he grips his sword. Strong hands. Firm grip. He imagines, briefly, those hands wrapped around *him*. Tries to push the thought away. Most of the tourney is trying to push thoughts away. Of that man working his muscles on top of him. Of what those grunts would sound like when they weren't from pain. From pleasure...

It's the same for all three days of the tourney. Trying not to lust for the young man and failing.

He wins. Of course he does. The King avoids him, at the celebration fest. Wants to be free of the lust. Ready for him and all the visiting Knights to leave. He retreats down one of the halls with a glass of wine to soothe his nerves. Stares into the glass for who knows how long.

"You haven't congratulated me, your Highness."

He startles. Straightens and looks up from his cup- and it's being dropped to the floor and spilled as the young Knight grips his wrists and brings them swiftly above his head.

"Wha-"

"I noticed how you watched me, my King. The way your eyes trail over me. I thought for sure you'd help me celebrate. A secret tryst with a visiting Knight..."

He lips skim the Kings neck. He can't control the sharp inhale.

"Isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that what you've been pining for, watching me so closely through every challenge?"

The King finds his tongue tied. His heart pounding in ways it hasn't since he was a boy. His face flushed. One gauntleted hand runs down to his hip.

"Well? Tell me you want this."

The King swallows. A tryst. Just one night. Nobody would have to know...

"I...want..."

It's all he needs to get out. The Knight's lips crash against his. Those gauntleted fingers wander a little more confidently, as he holds him up against the wall. And the King melts like a simple youth again. Back against the wall.

[catboycrack]

"Gauntlets were designed to protect a knights hands during battle" WRONG. Gauntlets were designed to stretch a prince's soft hole while their royal guard fingers them.

[robobrat]

i do think there's something quite intimate about dressing in the pelts that my knight has personally hunted, retrieved, and prepared for me. to pull furs closer around me and wrap myself so literally in his protection... to cloak myself in the spoils of his labor – to send the message of our mutual favor to the entire court...

[brattyotherbr]

Prince who can’t take his full coterie of knights with him to school and so is overwhelmed by their hungry touch when he’s back for the winter break

[brattyotherbr]

The tragic remix: “prince who can’t take his full coterie of knights” 😓😢

[sireld]

[primal-call]

I will say this very gently and hold your hand as I say it.

You don't need to tag your reblogs of kink posts with tags along the lines of "despite of the historical context and the problematic aspect of knights (tm)..." because it is... a kink post.

Yes, we are well aware of the historical context. That's not the point. It's kink. Nobody cares or should care how you think about a fantasy behind closed doors. You don't need to live in an activism mindset 24h/24. Not constantly having a disclaimer in your mind about how knights or kings or cowboys were actually oppressors doesn't make you a bad person. (And that's not even brushing the fact that the depiction of them in kink is very far from historically accurate, because, once again, it's a made-up fantasy).

Some of you are taking it too deeply and not in the pleasant way.

Also, it's never been cool to police kink, especially in predominantly LGBT communities, and it never will be.

[curlygothprince]

the prince demands comfort and reassurance.

[goodknightspet]

Knightkinktober Week 2 | Camp/Wounded/Scars

As they settled in, horses tied to to the trees, he could still feel the adrenaline pounding in his chest. He was uninjured, of course. When they were attacked Ser Whitlock had taken every blow intended for him. Which was his duty, he supposed...but it did not make the Prince feel any better about the blood. About the way the grizzled Knight winces when he kneels to start a fire.

"That's it, that's enough, sit, Whitlock."

The man sighs as if the Prince is annoying him. Turns his head just so, as the fire flickers softly.

"Your Highness, you don't need to-"

"I don't recall saying please. It wasn't a request."

He ignores the grumble of annoyance as his Knight takes a seat. Goes instead to the buckles of his armour, slapping away Ser Whitlock's hand when he goes to stop him.

"You will sit. I am going to look at the wound."

And at least he's obedient. He does. He lets the Prince work through the layers, let's him pull back the damaged chest plate and discard broken links of chain. He barely winces as the Prince picks the stray cloth threads from the wound. Holds still as he presses a cloth to it. Cleans it.

He can feel the man's gaze on his head, but if he has any complaint as the Prince wraps it he doesn't voice it.

"You're a stubborn old man, Whitlock. Telling me that it doesn't need tending. That it is fine. Riding this far out with it like this."

The man has no comment to being scolded. At least he has some sense. The Prince's fingers carefully tie off the bandage. Examines his work.

Gets...distracted, by the myriad of other scars. Former wounds taken in service to the crown. In service to him.

He swallows. The guilt is almost nauseating. Why must this man bare such wounds, just for his sake? His fingertips wander across a particularly red scar. He hears Ser Whitlock's breath hitch. He trails down gently to another one and the man catches his wrist to stop him.

"That's enough, my Prince. You've tended the wound."

He brushed the Knights hand off again, not even sparing the man a glance of apology.

"I don't thank you enough...all these scars, for my sake."

His rests his head in the Knights lap. Looks up at him with heavy eyes. With a deep sigh, Ser Whitlock brushes a hand through his hair.

"You know you do not have to. I would earn many more, for you."

It's a hush silence that falls over them, beyond the flickering of the fire. The Prince's fingers brushing gently over different scars. Tracing them.

"But I want to."

And maybe that's it, isn't it? What makes it worth it. Why he would take many, many more for the sake of this lovely thing in his lap. Because he wants to thank him. Because he feels bad. Because he feels so strongly.

Strongly enough to be serious about a thank you, at least.

The Prince turns his head towards Whitlock's codpiece. Undoes the straps with gentle fingers.

[stardrian]

knight x vampire!prince

[brattyotherbr]

knight frustrated with an imperious and thoughtless prince who fantasizes about putting him in his place but nonetheless is loyal, and understands the prince’s station makes him ungrateful more than any true defect.

the prince gets kidnapped and the knight is the only one who cares to go and get him. He storms a hold and kills his captors, and finds his frustrating, awful charge chained to a wall in the dungeons.

“Took you long enough,” the prince mutters, but the bite isn’t there. He’s scared and roughed up, and hasn’t seen the knight like this, covered in blood, in full armor and so angry. Despite everything he feels safe now, and something like desire stirring in his belly. He needs to command and possess this incredible man. “Let me free.”

“Don’t order me about, boy,” the knight responds.

“How dare you, what else are you here for…?”

“Shut up,” the knight says, very calm. “Or I’ll make you.”

The prince reddens and starts to say something.

Ever true to his word, the knight stuffs a rag into the prince’s mouth.

“No need to thank me. I know it’s beneath you,” he says with a smile, and starts unbuckling his belt. “Then again, so is this.”