#by decree

[your-loyal-sword]

knights who insist that their duty is to protect and serve you. knights who continue to weakly protest as you tell them softly that its ok and they can just lean back and be taken care of. knights whose pleas persist, still, between low and desperate whines while you slip your hand in between their thighs. knights who try to hide their blissful fucked-out expression, embarrassed by their own want. knights still vaguely mumbling after they climax about how they should be the one caring for you but you simply ignore their rambling, clean them up, and hold them gently as they fall asleep.

[your-loyal-sword]

thinking about gentle yearning and courting. leaving single flowers on your prince’s desk while he is out, flowers that mean love and companionship. he says nothing of them, but it’s not difficult to figure out their source. kneeling before him to accept orders and feeling his hand linger upon your head a bit longer than it should. feeling your stoic strength waver at the thought of his hand sliding down to cup your face. soft passing glances at banquets and in halls, promises of later meeting. having it all pay off and in the late evening be tangled together in his silk sheets, his soft fingers tracing rough skin and scars as you both drift to a peaceful sleep.

[your-loyal-sword]

you let him hit because he calls you a good boy, i let him hit because i swore an unending fealty to his crown and sealed the pact of my loyalty by staining my sword with whatever blood he commands me to. and also he calls me good dog.

[your-loyal-sword]

oh to be a knight who listens so well to his prince. on my knees at the snap of a finger, slipping off his belt, hands snaking around him as i duck my head between his legs. working so dutifully as his thighs tremor against the sides of my head and his fingers curl tightly in my hair. persisting as i hear the way he cries out softly at the shocks of pleasure jolting through him. letting my calloused hands rest on his soft waist as he gently whimpers and the pleasure subsides. taking care of him as he requires for the rest of the evening and taking solace in the fact that i am the perfect servant to him, a tool for whatever he desires.

[your-loyal-sword]

thinking about butchfemme knight x princess but the usual dynamic is flipped and the butch is the princess and the femme is the knight. a knight whose armor is more ornamental than functional, but still she is efficient and lethal in battle. hair and skin kept soft, nails and callouses cared for, irresistible floral perfumes and lotions always making the room brighter when she is there. a princess who refuses fancy gowns and dresses, cuts her hair short, and wears scars and bruises with pride. despite the dirt on her knees, she leads her kingdom boldly in strategy and war, refusing to fit the boxes expected of her. neither the princess or the knight quite fitting their titles and finding the kinship that comes with it tipping over into something sweeter.