An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Steam Powered Giraffe
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Skull Becile, Hare Becile, Jack Becile
Additional Tags: all characters except skull are just mentioned, POV First Person, read it from the skulls pov, Long Monologue, no beta reader we die like thaddeus, kinda write this while in a mood, Light Angst, Kind Of, riker and scratch are kind of hinted at when he speaks, never outright stated tho
Summary:
I'm a prince and I just got done with a public audience. As the heavy wooden doors swing shut the captain of my guard comes to stand behind me, behind my throne.
He adjusts my crown before I hear him unsheath his sword. I know this game. My mouth falls open before he has to tell me.
My guard holds the flat of his sword against my neck his fingers go in my mouth and I hear him laugh. It echos off the walls of the empty audience chamber.
"So eager. My good little Prince."
His fingers stay in my mouth, holding it open, petting my tounge, occasionally choking me. Until right before the big wooden doors are opened again.
Suddenly the sword is gone, my mouth is empty. My guard is by my side. "Wipe your face your highness. Wouldn't want your other guards thinking they could take advantage of you."
So I do, I run the back of my hand over my face just as the doors open. I'm blushing at how much drool I wipe away.
"Four more are seeking audiences with you your highness." The new guard says. I nod my approval and he turns to open the door my Guard turns to me, fixing my crown.
"Be good, answer their problems fairly, and I might just give you something even better to suck on next time." The captain of my guard whispers. My mouth almost falls open at that. Instead I blush and try to sit tall, try to look the part of a prince as a couple farmers with a land dispute are lead in.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Characters: Dante and Kyrie
Summary: Sometimes, it's the person you least expect that understands your pain the most. The pain of losing an older brother and feeling you should have done more to change their fate brings that to the surface.
If @necromatador gets to write about their character in pain then dangit, so do I.
“Uh oh," a boy with wild, red, ash-streaked hair said as he peered into a barrel on the deck of the airship.
"Whuh-oh?" Questioned Percy, eyeing him suspiciously.
Ed shut the barrel cautiously and whispered to the cabin boy, "It's a stowaway."
"A what?" Percy hissed, "What do you mean?
Ed rubbed his greasy hands together, "I mean…. There's a man hiding in this barrel."
Percy's eye twitched, "Well, what's he doing?"
The redhead shrugged. "He's not doing much of anything. Sleeping, I guess."
Percy puffed out his chest and smoothed his jacket. "Well then. We should tell the captains."
"No!" Ed shouted. A passing crewmate gave him a look. "I mean, don't do that," he said, whispering
again. "Do you want them to know we let somebody sneak aboard their ship? We could get in trouble."
Percy turned up his nose. "Captain Lockhart will-"
"But Captain Sullivan!" Ed interrupted.
The boys shuddered in unison.
"So what do we do?" Queried the cabin boy.
"Simple, Ascot," said Ed, jamming his shoulder into the barrel. "Toss it overboard."
"But…" Percy hesitated. They were flying over the Crying Forest at the moment, and at this height...
Just then, a woman's voice called from the captain's cabin, "PERCIVAL! WHERE'S MY SPARE EYEPATCH?"
Percy jumped to attention and helped Ed hoist the barrel over the side of the ship. They struggled with the weight of the thing, and he could swear he could feel the stowaway stirring inside. The boys panicked and gave one final shove. Suddenly, the problem was gone.
"See?" Said Ed, wiping his brow. "That wasn't so bad."
"Ick," Percy said. "Why was it all dusty?"
— — —
Falling.
At first, Jacob thought he was dreaming. Surely, this weightless, sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach was just a nightmare. Though he never was one to dream about falling. And this felt very real.
He kicked the lid of the barrel off and suddenly, he was caught in a chorus of screaming wind. Instinctively, he stopped time.
The sound stopped. The world slowed around him. His eyes darted, taking everything in. Directly in front of him was a sea of trees. He didn't have much time. To his right was the barrel, frozen in space, but already out of reach.
The ship, he had to get to the ship. But turning around could be disastrous. With that much movement during a time stop, the amount of sand he could lose would be too much...
He was running out of time. He twisted, feeling the air grinding his flesh into tiny granules. The ship was already a speck in the clouds. His stomach fell into his boots. Without thinking, he started time again.
A silhouette of his body made of sand flew away from him and dispersed into a cloud of dust above him. The wind tore at his clothes, pounding them against his ears. Breaths came hard and fast. He imagined the impact. The crunch, the wet thud. Time stopped again.
He took a deep breath, watching his chest rise and fall, leaving behind a trail of sand in the air. He couldn’t waste himself like this. He had to think. But the longer he stayed like this, the more he would dissolve. He closed his eyes and started time again.
The wind. The roar. He twisted again to face the ground, spreading his limbs to slow his fall. He could handle this. He’d survived worse than this. He opened his eyes and was assaulted by tree branches.
Time stop. He was bleeding. Just a scratch. He searched for an opening. There, a break in the forest canopy.
Time start. Sand flew. He dove for the opening. Leaves scattered.
Time stop. A web of branches lay in front of him, ready to break him in half. He took a few seconds to map a path between them. He could feel himself melting. The skin on his back. The soles of his feet. His right ear.
Time start. He shed sand like snakeskin. He twisted through tree branches, falling at top speed into the Crying Forest.
Stop. Start. Dodge. Stop. The ground was getting near. What would he do when he reached that? He couldn’t dodge the ground-
A sudden pain in his gut made his vision go dark. Stop.
A branch. It was branch. The crack he heard, was it his ribs or the branch? He felt his chest carefully, suspended in midair. His hand melted, spreading dust on his shirt. Bruised at least. The branch was still breaking, splinters exploding in a fan above him. Would that break his fall? Would it be enough?
Start. The ground rose to meet him.
Stop.
Jacob floated a foot above the ground, nursing his bruised ribs with a stump of an arm. His legs were already detached from his body, dissolving somewhere behind him. The grass seemed soft. But clearly not soft enough to cushion his broken body.
He did not start time again.
The height would not be kind to his flesh, he decided as his face began to split vertically, granules floating from his eyelids. But sand… Sand doesn’t care how far it falls.
Somewhere in the Crying Forest, a mound of dust plummeted suddenly to the ground.
Hello yes I would love to hear regency kink ideas please and thank you
This is uhhh very specific to Imperial Russia during the period right before and then the beginning of the enlightenment, I'm a graduate student you'll have to excuse me this probably unrelatable fantasy.
This is not about a specific Tsar bc quite frankly I don't think you could pay me to sleep with Peter I, Elizabeth I, Peter II, or Catherine II, so lets pretend Peter II was like....not a fucking idiot. and also was cuter.
ANYWAYS
During the 100 years or so from 1680 to 1780 Russia was tentatively bringing in ideas from the west and becoming more European. And I just want to be the Tsar's French plaything yknow?
I can recite Voltaire, Rousseau, Kant, and Descartes at the Tsar's whim. Often, and perhaps especially during sex. Not because the Tsar finds it hot, but because it's fun to tease me, "no no, do Kant in the original German." all the while he's got his hands on me, in me.
At court I'm mostly respected, everyone knows the Tsar favors me, though the Tsar lets them make fun of the way I dress (despite it not actually being too much different from how they dress at this point) He outright encourages them to make fun of my being Roman Catholic (though I would have renounced it, not only bc Russia is very much orthodox, but bc yknow #enlgihtenment) He'll keep note of the japes made at my expense that I've heard or otherwise, repeating them to me perhaps while I'm on my knees his cock in my mouth.
I am there to help make decisions, the Tsar keeps my council though it's always at my expense. Mocking me for my western ideas despite often taking my advice.
But sometimes, sometimes the Tsar holds me close, perhaps we're in the forests and he whispers to me about his dreams for Russia, how he wishes he could move things faster. How he wishes he had a court full of men like me.
He keeps me tied to the bed during the French Revolution. And for once I'm not sure if he's serious when he threatens me, shouting about weather or not I'm here to overthrow him. (I'm not) Even afterwards, when the violence calms i'm kept on a shorter leash (haha) The tsar is less sweet when we're alone, the court is crueler when I'm with them, even more so behind my back. The tsar does still care for me though, that much is true it would be easy, too easy to just let me go, the the court run me out. But he doesn't.
We're in bed, you're sitting up reading or messing around on your phone, maybe watch TV. I'm curled up beside you half way to sleep.
You start rubbing my back, my neck, slowly your hand makes its way to my face [your eyes never leaving the thing you're doing] two if your fingers run over my lips and even near asleep I open my mouth so you can slip your fingers in.
I fall asleep with your fingers in my mouth, while you keep doing what you were doing
So I don’t think it’s a secret here that I’m a giant nerd? So please consider:
You hand me a book, it’s the first of a fantasy series I’ve never even heard of. You smile and tell me to get to it and “pay attention.”
A bit later I come to you, book in hand excited ready to tell you all about how much I liked it. You hold up a finger that smile on your face and you hand me a giant multiple choice test, maybe there are a few short answer questions, an essay. You give me a time limit, it’s way to short but I nod, turned on and get to work. Either I finish it or time runs up and you take the test back go though it and grade it right in front of me, red pen, maybe a frown every time I got something wrong.
I barely pass the test, maybe you spank me as a punishment. Maybe you’ve got something far more creative in mind. But afterwards, tears running down my face you kiss my cheek handing me the test and the next book.
“Better do better on the next time, you don’t want to fail the class, and you know I have high expectations for you.”
I hurry off determined to do better, I open the cover of this book, ready to pay much better attention to the clothes everyone is wearing, when it’s raining, and most importantly, my least favorite part of any fantasy series the battles but there on the title page I see it “Book two of ten.”
I look up from the cover to see you grinning at me. “Better read quicker this time baby boy, next test is in a week.”
Still no sex bc I apparently can not do anything but write absurdly long stories about a knight who just wants to have his Prince put him on his knees. Lots of non sexual intimacy and drool though. So much fucking drool. (and I’m so sorry it’s so long)
Michael pushed harder, going after his squire with more force, more speed until the boy was on the ground, his sword across on the other side of the training yard. He no longer looked thrilled to be training, no longer looked eager to learn from the best Knight in the kingdom. Instead he looked scared. Michael almost scoffed, pathetic the boy was supposed to be learning.
“Get up boy, we’re going again, some day your job will be to protect the Prince, if you can’t do that-” Michael let his sentence trail off, let the boy fill in the rest, as he stood up and retrieved his sword.
The next bout went about the same. The boy was clearly getting tired, and was having a hard time keeping his sword up. Any offensive maneuvers were beyond him and his defense was so weak it didn’t take long for Michael to have him flat on his back again.
“Again.” Michael said, his voice hard, filled with irritation. The boy nodded scrambling to get up.
“I don’t think that will be necessary.” someone said from the entrance to the training yard.
Michael spun on his heel, his head falling into a bow. “My Lord, I did not know you would be at the training yard I-”
The prince held up his hand waving off the rest of what Michael was saying. He had a n odd look on his face, a look Michael could not place.
“You boy, what’s your name?” Prince Rob walked to the young boy completely ignoring Michael.
“Rand, Your Grace.”
Michael had not turned around to watch the interaction, but he had spent enough time guarding Rob to know the man had a smile on his face. Could hear it when he spoke.
“I am no one’s Grace just yet. My father still reins. Tell me Rand, is our fearless knight always such an ass during your training?”
“Sir Michael is a good Knight to train under Your- My Lord, He only wants the best from me. I can do better.”
Michael smiled when he heard Rob scoff. He was near as good a swordsman as Michael was. He could probably have seen the fatigue in Rand from wherever he had been watching from.
“You can barely hold your sword up. Michael is right to train your stamina but he’s being cruel now. Go, your training is done for the day, all your duties are done for the day. Report for whatever duties you have tomorrow but for today you’re done.”
Michael watched as Rand left the training ground, watched the boy turn in the door to look back at Michael and Rob. Michael just nodded, and that seemed to be what the boy was looking for as he took off down to the Castle, hurrying like he was worried he’d be called back.
“Now, what should I do with you?” Rob was still behind Michael, perhaps still not looking at him. Michael did not plan on turning around to look. Rob would come to him if he wanted Michael to look at him. “You’re a hard master, I know that. But you like Rand I know that too. So what was this about hmm? What problem are you taking out on the boy?”
Rob was closer now. Standing right behind Michael, so close Michael could almost feel Rob’s breath on his neck. Michael tensed but did not turn.
“Have a hard time finding stable boys to put you on your knees?” Rob whispered, his breath tickling Michael’s ear. Still Michael did not turn around, though his face was red with shame. How was it the Prince knew? He’d always had to be careful and after the Prince had found out he’d been even more careful. “I told you to come to me if you needed, did you think I’d let anyone else in the Castle get their hands on you?”
Michael hung his head. He’d had his suspicions, that the Prince would have somehow gotten all the men in the castle to stay away from him but to hear that that was what truly had happened made it all the worse.
Suddenly Michael’s chin was held between Rob’s fingers, his head yanked to the side so he was looking at Rob. “You’re mine, my bodyguard, my best knight, and my pretty boy to put on his knees. Do not forget.” Rob shook Michael’s head back and forth as if to punctuate his point.
“Open your mouth pretty boy.”
“My Lord I don’t think-” Rob’s other hand was in his hair pulling hard, hard enough to bring tears to Michael’s eyes.
“I did not ask you to speak, I told you to open your mouth.” The hand in his hair relaxed, turned from pulling into a gentle hand cupping the back of Michael’s head. “There is no one here, I promised I would take care of you but for that to work you must trust me. Now open your mouth like a good boy.”
Michael could think of a million arguments. There was no one here now but there might be later, the king could come down, or any of the men under Michael’s command. Instead his mouth fell open.
As soon his mouth was open Prince had his fingers in Michael’s mouth. Soft at first petting his tongue, running over his teeth. But suddenly, and without warning, Michael was gagging on the fingers in his mouth, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes while he closed them.
Just as suddenly as the fingers had choked him they were gone from his mouth completely, the Prince wiping his fingers on Michael’s cheek. The blush on Michael’s face intensified as he found himself leaning into the fingers, into any touch Rob would gift him with.
“I know what you need baby, come to my room tonight as the guards change. I’ll give it to you.”
Rob put his hand over Michael’s eyes, Michael didn’t hesitate to close his eyes. Leaving them closed as he listened to Rob walk away. Staying in the middle of the training ground eyes closed until he was sure Rob was gone.
Michael nodded to the guards leaving, sneaking through the Prince’s door before the guards who would take their place were there. It was not suspicious that Michael would spend time with the Prince but it was best to keep any suspension at bay as best they could.
Rob was sitting by the fire, a book opened on his lap his crown glinting in the firelight. Michael knew the prince was wearing it for him. Was wearing it to remind Michael of the power he held. As if Michael was not here to hand him even more power.
The Prince did not look up from his book as he spoke “take off your tunic sir Michael. I suspect that your chest will be covered in drool and I would hate for you to have to explain why your tunic is soaked in drool”
Michael did, very aware that in order to do so he also had to unbuckle his sword. His Prince was not just disrobing him but adding another reminder to who was in control. After his sword was carefully leaned against the door, his tunic folded on the floor next to his sword he stood with his hands held behind his back, waiting. It was a long time before he heard Rob scoff and point to the place next to where he was.
“This is not the first time we’ve done this, you know where I want you. Or do you expect me to stop reading to get you in place?” Still the Prince did not lift his eyes from his book. Michael blushed doing as was expected, kneeling beside the Prince the fire helping to alleviate the chill of the room.
“Finally.” Rob said resting a hand on Michael’s head, his fingers tangling in Michael’s hair. “Now open your mouth, tongue out.”
Michael did, though Rob did not look to check Michael knew he did not need the Prince to look at him, to check to make sure he was following instructions. He would do so no matter what.
Michael didn’t know how much time passed, how long his mouth was open, drool dripping down onto his chest. But finally Rob closed his book, turning his chair so that his legs bracketed Michael. Michael did not look up at Rob, did not move at all though he blushed as more drool dripped down onto his chest, his blush deepening when he heard the prince chuckle.
“You’re such a good boy for me.” Rob cooed, a hand pulling Michael’s head back, so he had no where to look but into Rob’s eyes. “Such a good boy.” and then his fingers were in Michael’s mouth, gagging him. Still he did not close his mouth, and something glinted in the Prince’s eyes.
“Such a good boy, this is why I never fear when you’re guarding me. You follow instructions so well. You would do anything for me.” If Michael were anywhere else. If he had not spent so long on his knees that the stone floor had rendered his legs numb, he would be worried. But this was his Prince, his prince. Taking care of him in a way no one else could.
“You can suck on my fingers now.” Rob whispered and finally, finally Michael closed his mouth. Unsurprised to find his jaw sore from being open for so long.
Michael lost track of time again after that. He was not sure how long Rob fucked his mouth with his fingers. How long he spent gagging around the Prince’s hand. But eventually the Prince took his hand back, wiping his fingers on Michael’s cheek again before cupping his face. If Michael were more aware he’d point out there was no point in the Prince wiping of his fingers only to put his hand where he’d done so. Instead he leaned into the Prince’s hand letting out a soft whine.
“I know, I know, but the guards will change soon, and I believe you are supposed to guard me till sunrise.” and you can not do so from here. Michael’s brain supplied. He pulled back ready to get up. Instead the had softly cupping his face held him where he was as his prince looked down at him his eyes hard, steely, the way he looked before a sparing match.
“You will go and stand by my door to guard me because that is where you are expected to be. You may wipe off your face but you will not clean your chest. When sunrise comes I expect to see you in here again. Make an excuse, any excuse.” Rob squinted down at Michael now cupping both his cheeks. “Will you do it?”
Michael went to nod but Rob was holding his head too tight. “Yes-” he croaked his voice rough with disuse. “Yes my Lord.”
Rob nodded leaning back in his chair. “Then go, clean up using the water pitcher in the corner. I will see you in the morning Sir Michael.”
