Knights in the library

Kai| they/them| 32| 18+ only! Minors catch a block

[knightsinthelibrary]

Hi, I'm Kai!

32yo enby writer with diagnoses lol

IF YOU'RE A MINOR I WILL BLOCK YOU SO FUCKING FAST! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE, GO AWAY!

I seem to be in my knight era and it's gotten a little out of hand over on my smut blog. So I'll be posting lots of knight and royalty kink stuff here as well.

Pfp of a random knight drawn by my brother-in-law aka ArtGood!

[borrowed-blade]

Did you know that increasing blood flow to your tdick can help it grow? I figured you'd want to know considering your, well, stature.

Worry not though! I am here to help, and there's lots of ways to achieve this. Most common is of course to have someone suck it, but I doubt anyone would be willing to do that. Why would they when the court is full of better options? No, we'll find something more befitting for one like yourself.

How about the belt? Surely, you've noticed the way your skin flushes with blood each time it's striken; your private area is no different. A couple of well placed lashes will get your dick bright red in no time.

You seem nervous, Errant. Don't you want it to grow bigger? You know, I've seen the prince looking your way lately, and I wouldn't be surprised if you were called into his chambers soon. Can you imagine his disappointment if you presented him with that? I'm trying to stop you from embarrassing yourself.

Now please, hold still. My aim will get a lot worse if I have to hold you down the whole time.

I've seen the way you fight, Sir Thorn. I have no trouble admitting that I've watched you train, because I'm always looking to learn from the other knights, to observe and see what I could do to get stronger, to get better. I know you rarely miss your mark.

Even so, my instinctual response to such a proposal as this is a scoff and refusal. Probably a muttered "fuck you" for good measure. I know how much you delight in hurting me, and while I have no doubt in your aim with the belt, I also have no doubt that you would choose to miss a few times, and I can't decide if that's better or worse. I can growl and snap and rage against you when you shove me, or slap me, or wrestle me to the ground. I can keep up the pretense of fighting back, but with something like this? Accepting this proposal would require bold-faced submission. I would have to bare myself to you, lie down for you, spread myself for you. And I know in an instant my pride couldn't take it.

But then you have to go and mention his Highness, and don't think I don't know what you're doing. So you've noticed my interest in the prince, and you figure it's another thing you can leverage against me, and the worst part is that you're right. I wouldn't even be considering this if it weren't for the suggestion that the prince's interest in me may be growing into something more than professional. And fuck, you're right. I want to give him the best.

For all I know, you could be lying about his Highness, just to entice me into agreeing to this. To letting you hit me, letting you make me swell. To forcing real cries from my throat, the cries I usually bury beneath a growl or a curse. But it's a risk I have to take. So I accept your proposal, on one condition.

You can hit me, Sir Thorn, even there, even like this. But I will make one request: that you would give me a break from time to time. And that during the break, you would use your mouth.

[knights-hand]

You've watched me because you want to learn? Right, of course that's the only reason your eyes seem to linger on me.

I must say I enjoy your fighting, Errant. It would be a shame for you to suppress it entirely. How about a middle ground? I'll tie your ankles to the bedposts, so you'll be free to struggle as much as you'd like while remaining nice and spread for me. Best tie your wrists too, so that pesky pride won't give you any ideas of escaping. How shameful would it be for you to fold to such a harmless exercise? You'll be thankful you endured once it's over.

Oh, and I accept this condition of course. I rarely give pleasure to the likes of you, but I'll make an exception. It hardly even counts with that pitiful little thing.

Now, are you ready to begin?

[borrowed-blade]

You’re teaching me more than I realized, Sir Thorn. Among other things, I’m learning that I am particularly short of patience, especially where you are concerned.

The worst part isn’t the binding, it’s the stripping. Full kit is a lengthy process to remove from an impatient body, even when the hands removing it aren’t taking care to go slow or gentle. I should have expected you to be rough even in this, and yet it still widens my eyes, quickens my pulse, reddens my cheeks.

You notice the colour flooding my skin when you get my neck bared, and I see you smirk at the sight. I want to avert my eyes, to glare into the corner and keep up the ongoing facade of defiance, but I find I can’t drag my eyes away from that smirk. It’s cocky, and cruel, and fucking delicious.

Even with your quick movements, the doffing process is long enough that I have plenty of opportunities to change my mind, or to push you away, or to curse you out. I don’t. I clench my teeth and hope the way I’ve started shaking with adrenaline isn’t too obvious.

When the armour is finally off, you shove me back onto the bed, and you’re still wearing your gauntlets, and the points dig into my bare chest, and I moan, already too far gone to disguise it as a grunt. You laugh at me, looming over me as you position my arms above my head, and it occurs to me that you might not have much to do in the way of your original proposition. Seems to me that the blood flow to my dick is quite functional at the moment. Amazing that there’s enough blood in me to keep my face flushed, even as the rest rushes downwards.

As you secure my wrists into place, one greaved thigh presses against my centre, cold metal to hot flesh, and I gasp at the contact, already so fucking sensitive.

God, this is going to hurt.

[knights-hand]

I'm almost tempted to keep you to myself, seeing you tremble beneath me with that wide eyed stare. Eyes eagerly following my every move with their mix of fear, anticipation and desire.

I'll hold your gaze as I get my belt out, and watch you struggle to decide where to look. Then the rough leather makes contact with your neathers, and the choice is suddenly easy. It's not a forceful touch, not yet. I run it slowly over your length, letting you wince at the texture dragging across your very most sensitive parts ever so slowly. Giving you all the time in the world to imagine what a strike might feel like.

Suddenly, the belt withdraws slightly, and I lean forward, closer and closer. My gauntlet wraps around your jaw, and I turn your head to the side with a bit too much force to be comfortable. You feel my breath tickling your ear, feel the grin on my lips. Feel my codpiece rub up against your bare cock, dwarfed and squeezed down under its weight.

I linger for a moment. Drinking in your absolute helplessness beneath me. Listening to the frantic pounding of your heart. Watching your arms strain against the ropes.

I smile, and I whisper in your ear.

"I lied, Errant. The prince has no interest in you. " You feel the hard, cold metal of my codpiece grind against you, and the rough leather drag across your inner thigh.

"Say the word, and I'll let you go. This will all be over. Is that what you want?"

"No? Then tell me what you want."

"Beg."

[borrowed-blade]

This time feels different.  Normally, I fight you tooth and nail for every bit of ground gained and given.  Now, though, I lay still, saving my fight for when the pain begins in earnest.

And it's easier than I would have expected.  The look you give me when you get me right where you want me, it has always been fuel to the fire, a guaranteed method of getting me to struggle, to protest in some way, but now it has me pinned.  Now, with my wrists and ankles tied, my body on display, I lie still, and for some reason, I'm not desperate to escape this.  In fact, when you take my face roughly in your hand and turn my head to the side, when you get into my space and breathe low on my neck, I don't even squirm.  I shiver, but it's with desire for more.  It's the most pliant you've ever seen me.

My eyes are just beginning to drift shut in something akin to bliss when you lean down to whisper cruelty in my ear.  "I lied, Errant.  The prince has no interest in you."

My stomach drops and my eyes fly open, and a sound escapes through my clenched teeth.  It's something between a growl and a moan, something between rage and lust, and my face flares hot with embarrassment.  "You fucking bastard," I grit out against your firm hold on my jaw, repeating it when you grind your codpiece against my dick, though admittedly it comes out breathier the second time.

You back off a little, though you stay seated where you are, pressing into me, and I keep my face turned away even after you've let go of it.  "Say the word," you tell me, "and I'll let you go.  This will all be over."  I stay there, seething, until you trace the fingertip of one gauntlet down my throat, oddly gentle for you.  "Is that what you want?"

I squeeze my eyes shut again, because I should say yes.  The prince was the whole reason I agreed to this in the first place, and you've been so considerate as to give me an out.

"What happens if I say yes?" I manage to rasp, my throat dry.

I feel you watching my face, though I don't look back up at you.  "I untie you, you get dressed, and we walk away."

I swallow hard, feeling my throat bob under your fingertip.

"Errant.  Is that what you want?"

Damn it all.  I shake my head, still glaring off into the shadows.

"No?"  You give me a second to reconsider, and when I don't offer anything further, you hook your fingertip under my chin, directing my glower back up to you.  "Then tell me what you want."

I actually manage to bark a laugh, rolling my eyes at the unfairness of it all.  This is quite a brilliant little dilemma you've gotten me into, Sir Thorn.  Get me to agree to submit to you with an empty promise, then take away the reward and make me admit that I want it anyway.  It's downright cruel, and I should have expected it from the start.

"Errant?"

"I want…"

"Yes?"

"I… can't."  I shake my head, chuckling ruefully.  "I can't fucking say it."

You blink down at me, your expression never changing, continuing to regard me with a steadiness that almost manages to calm my racing heart.  "Then I'll say it," you murmur, "and you can tell me if I'm right."  The hand holding the belt drags it up over the soft skin of my thigh, and my eyes track the movement warily.  "Do you want me to do what I said I would do to you?"

It takes me a few seconds, but I manage to hold your gaze as I nod slowly.  "Yes."

"You want me to hit you?"

"Yes."

"Want me to help your little cock swell?"

I shudder.  "Yes, damn it."

You idly wrap the belt around your knuckles, and a slow smirk overtakes your face.  "Just can't admit it, can you?  Even spread out for me like this, you can't let on how much you want it?"

"Thorn…"

"Yes?"

I take a slow breath.  In for a penny.

"Please."

Your eyes flare.  "Very good."  You lean over me again, and I try to shrink back into the mattress to no avail, my eyes straining to follow your movements.  "Tell you what?" you murmur, retrieving something I can't see from under the pillow.  "How about I make it a little easier on you?"

I watch as you sit back up, your codpiece shifting against me with the movement and I would react if I weren't so confused by what you're holding: a swath of black silk, softer by far than the belt, or the cords you've used to secure my limbs.

"I had thought to stuff this in your mouth," you tell me, almost conversationally, "to give you the mercy of a gag.  But I think I have a better way of using this."

You trail the silk up my body, from my hips to my clavicle, and I shiver at the sensation, so soft and pleasurable, so sharply contrasted from the pain I have to look forward to.  Your free hand cups my face, thumb stroking over my cheek, just below my eye.

I give you a questioning look, but it quickly fades into wide-eyed shock when you drag the black silk over my vision, securing it with a knot behind my head.

And I have to bite my lip suddenly to stifle the moan that comes with the understanding.  You're going to hit me, hard, in my most sensitive place, and I won't see it coming.  You promised that you would do more than just hit, cooling me down from time to time with your mouth on my swollen cock, and I won't see it coming, assuming you weren't lying about that as well.  Every touch, every strike, will be a shock, will be magnified.  I'll have no way of knowing if the next contact will be pain or pleasure, and my only outlet will be my mouth.  I'll have no choice but to cry out, to whine and curse and moan. 

I feel the rough leather of the belt on my cock again, just dragging over it, dreadfully slowly, and maybe I'm imagining it, but it already feels so much more electric than before.

"I wonder", you purr, your voice unexpectedly close to my ear again, making me shudder, "just how many hits you can take before you're begging for me."

And I know I'll regret it, but I snarl at you.  "I have no intention of begging."

A dark chuckle.  "We'll see."

The belt withdraws, and I tense, waiting for the moment it returns, no longer slow, no longer gentle. 

And I try to convince myself that this was ever about the prince.

[but-a-licentious-prince]

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

After months and months of longing gazes, secret kisses, and gentle touching, the prince has finally convinced his knight to lie with him. His knight shall be the first to enter him; a beautiful moment but one that requires preparation. The prince has experienced naught but his own slim fingers, and the knight simply couldn’t live with himself if he made his liege’s first time a painful one.

Delicate kisses pepper the prince’s inner thighs as the knight works oiled fingers inside. Much time and patience will be needed to prepare him properly, seeing as the rod in question is of an impressive girth. The kisses trace up his hip to his groin as the knight takes the prince’s own length into his mouth to distract from a third finger pressing in. The prince squirms from the odd sensation of another’s fingers as they push, pull, and spread. He tries—and fails— to keep his breathing even.

After much too long, in the prince’s opinion, the knight deems him ready to commence. He oils himself and then moves up to cover the prince’s body with his own. Neither of them can believe this is truly happening, yet here they lie, with the prince’s legs wrapped around his personal knight’s bare waist, eagerly awaiting penetration. He need not wait much longer.

When the knight pushes in, he cups his charge’s face to watch for discomfort, asking him to relax and breathe deeply. The prince closes his eyes, his already pink cheeks growing redder with the knight’s every word.

“Almost. Ah, there, you feel that? That’ll be the head in, Sire.”

How can he say that so casually? With that voice right into the prince’s ear? The prince opens his eyes again, looking up at his knight with a hesitant desperation that plays so lovely in its contradiction.

“Proceed… please.”

It’s that one little word, added on with deliberate purpose. Please. Spoken as if the knight wouldn’t do whatever his prince asked without question. Spoken as if he wouldn’t level nations from a simple utterance. Spoken as if they were but civilians. No crown, no rank, just men. That one little word makes the knight nearly forget himself in his eagerness to comply.

The prince’s face scrunches up as the knight buries half of his length inside. Brows furrowed, eyes squeezed shut, and mouth fallen open in a gasp, the prince instinctively clamps down on the sudden stretch. His knight fears the worst, fears he’s gone too far, but, knowing he’s just passed the thickest region, is afraid pulling out may make things worse.

Stuttered apologies tumble from his lips, he’d never meant to harm him, he’s so sorry, he didn’t mean— but the prince’s constriction lets up almost immediately, just to return with equal force from before. The knight can feel his prince’s hole spasming around him. What started as a choked gasp quickly turns into breathy whine as the prince’s own length twitches and spurts warmth between their stomachs.

The knight’s fear melts into relief with a surprised chuckle. His prince, on the other hand— realizing that he’d finished immediately, before they’d even truly gotten started— swats at the man’s arm.

“Don’t laugh!” He says, much louder than necessary as he covers his burning face with his hands. “Do not laugh at me right now!”

But the knight cannot entirely suppress his joy, taking the prince’s hands in his own and kissing all over his face, soft laughter escaping after each one.

[anothericarus]

fuck it. sacrificial lamb knight x wolf motif king. wide-eyed soldier who strayed too far from the flock x warmongering tyrant who likes to play with his food.

you should be honoured to pulled from your ranks and be named as the next knight of the crown, to kneel before the throne as the ceremonial sword passes overhead, but you know that the only thought going through the minds of the onlookers is that they're just glad they aren't you, glad they weren't in the wrong place at the right time.

you'll be expected in his chambers to night. expected to prove your allegiance. maybe you'll get lucky, and it'll just be an oath. a display of loyalty. or maybe you won't, and you're about to learn exactly why he prefers his champions dressed in red.

[rukafais]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5 (you're here! it's the end!)

Phew, 50 pages! If you're reading this, thanks for reading all this way. I hope to continue making more comics and things for people to enjoy in 2025!

[rukafais]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 (you are here!)

Part 5

[rukafais]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 (you are here!)

Part 4

Part 5

[rukafais]

Part 1

Part 2 (you are here!)

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

[rukafais]

Merry christmas, have a 50-page comic about Swords With Problems!! A gift from me to you. Part 1 (you are here!)

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

(If you'd like to read it in one long scroll instead of divided into parts, there is also an imgur album.) Content warning for violence.

[midsummers-knight]

Werewolf knight being held at bay by their lord’s with a thin silver chain wrapped loosely around the knights throat. So much raw power and so little restraint being held back by a chain and a simple piercing gaze.

[gauntlyt]

changing something minor about my helm (visor down, visor up, visor removed) and insisting I'm three seperate knights to get extra puddings & do general castle shenanigans

[gauntlyt]

elevating my own funnie tags because I've been praised for my humour & whimsy

[arireynes]

Thinking about a loyal knight that is absolutely obsessed with their precious prince. The prince is fully aware, encouraging their lingering gazes, even, but he tells the knight they don't get to touch him unless he decides to let them. Which he won't.

But it doesn't mean the prince can't touch. He'll brush a hand against their arm any time he passes them, coax them far too close when he needs to say something, tell them to stand and watch over him as he changes and bathes for extra protection, keeping eye contact as he steps into his bath, bare and beautiful, but infuriatingly untouchable.

When the knight has had enough and they can't take the teasing any longer, they'd hatch a plan. They'd beg the prince for just one night, just one, and they'd let it go. It was all they needed. Amused, the prince would agree, but tell them they get only one night.

The knight would be called into the prince's rooms that night, and find the prince lounging in bed. He'd stand and ask them to help him undress, and they'd pull off the prince's silk clothes with trembling, nervous hands, dragging their fingers against his soft skin in wonder. They'd ask for permission to touch him properly, and he'd allow it with a laugh, spreading his legs and coaxing them closer.

The knight would take such care of their prince, mouth slow, fingers gentle, right up until they've got him sunk on their strap. Then their calloused hands would dig into his hips, their thrusts suddenly much faster, his gasps and moans at their chance in pace making them even more desperate. They'd press his face into his pillows, keep him in place, fucking him into the sheets, far rougher than a prince should be handled, but they can't find it in them to worry. If this was the only night they fully planned to take it, and use their prince like the precious prize he was.

And they aren't going to stop when it's so clear the prince loves it. They've watched him for so long, they know what he likes. His face is wet with tears and his fingers fist the sheets but he's begging them for more, back arching when they give it to him. He trembles at their touch, but he never tells them to stop so they use him till they're both too worn out to move.

When morning comes, the knight will assume their usual position, only to find out the prince has changed his mind. He tells them that he wants them every night, that he's craving their touch. But they'd just smile and tell him they only agreed to one night and that's all he's going to get. It's not their fault the prince underestimated them.

But they know he's not going to be able to get off alone after their night together and no one else was going to make him forget. He'd be desperately wanting their touch, the same way the knight had for so long.

Just as they intended

[blanchebees]

Big knight friday

Tip jar

[sir-big-bass-knight-of-ur-mum]

Princess, I know I swore loyalty to you and will obey your every order…. But why did you make me take off my breast plate and do so many pushups?

[nocturnal-stims]

Flexible feather armor

🪽 Miscreations_us on IG

[but-a-licentious-prince]

I would like to run an experiment, Sir Knight, and, to do so, I require your presence in my chambers.

Place your gauntleted hand upon my throat.

Yes, that is an order.

My, I underestimated the chill of the metal. In any case, I shall now lift your visor. Do not fret, I will not remove the helm in its entirety.

Your eyes cannot remain still, can they? Hm, how amusing. You don’t know where to look. I can feel the way your hand twitches, you know. Every time you glance down to where metal meets flesh your grip ever so slightly tightens.

What is it that you desire? Do you wish to apply pressure? —disregard my fingers undoing the straps of your codpiece— Do you yearn to feel the rush of blood beneath my skin against your bare palm?

Do speak candidly.

[but-a-licentious-prince]

Let us move to the bed and this test will begin in earnest. Here, I’ll sit on the edge, and you will widen your stance over my legs. Like that, very good.

Yes, yes, I’ve removed your codpiece. That is an essential part of the experiment. Do you not trust your prince?

I thought so. Now, replace your hand upon my throat.

Why do you hesitate? Does your exposure before your prince make you pause? Do as I say. Return your gauntlet to my throat and allow me to put your mind at ease. There you go.

What’s this? Your body betrays your interest, dear knight. Is that the reason behind your delay? You did not wish for me to see the way you twitch when you throttle your liege?

Hah, and then your whole body jumps upon my touch. Relax yourself. This is the experiment.

You are to maintain a constant grip upon my throat while my hand brings you pleasure. Should you squeeze down or release me, I will stop.

Do you understand? Excellent.

We shall see if you are truly as obedient as you claim, Sir Knight.

[servileseneschal]

Let this be said and forevermore remembered:

Black & Brown knights have ALWAYS existed. I see far too little remembrance of that, and we should all be vigilant to celebrate all facets of knighthood. Black & Brown knights are beautiful and worthy of our attention and time.

Fat knights have ALWAYS existed. Thin knights are well and good, but being large and muscular (which is inherent to being fat) has always been a boon on the battlefield. Fat knights are handsome and worthy opponents.

Female and non-binary knights have ALWAYS existed. Knighthood is posed as a boy's club far too often, but knighthood is about your honor, allegiances, and chivalry. No part of knighthood requires being a man or being male. Lady knights and non-binary knights are just as capable and honorable as their brothers in arms.

Consider what biases you have and work against them - our siblings in arms are owed respect and inclusion.