Mar 16
The My Hero’s All’s Justice dialogue I’m seeing,,,, absolute goldmine. Lowk makes me wanna play it just for extra interaction content alone.
Posting these at 3am ‘cuz I have cuter domestic doodles I wanna post tmr lol
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Macao SAR China
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
The My Hero’s All’s Justice dialogue I’m seeing,,,, absolute goldmine. Lowk makes me wanna play it just for extra interaction content alone.
Posting these at 3am ‘cuz I have cuter domestic doodles I wanna post tmr lol
Finger-sucking.
Insert my 2000 word essay on bkdk dynamics.
Body Pillow :>
I’m back in the fucking building again (MHA after years)
Do you see this vision of their dynamic,,, do you,,, secretly a lot of thought was put into it,,, 😭
Oblivious [18+ Maomao x Jinshi]
Summary
It’s not her job. She should leave it, make some excuse and scurry out of the room before they engage in something irreversible…
Instead, her fingers move to his robes. With a firm push he actually, willingly yields to, she props herself upwards alongside him and undoes them in earnest.
“H-Hey, you—“ Jinshi starts. Maomao cuts him off, peering through thick lashes.
“Is this not what you wanted?”
Tags Porn with Feelings, Canon Compliant, Denial of Feelings, Asexual Maomao, Horny Jinshi, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Post Season 2, Jinshi has an impressive frog lol
Word Count 6,645
Archive of Our Own
Author’s Notes Hacking my lads-focused blog for other one-shots lol. Can you believe I churned this out in two days after catching up on season 2,,, three days ago. They live in my head rent free and I needed the sexual tension SATISFIED lol
Oblivious? Of course Maomao isn’t.
Quite the opposite, actually. To retain the guise of a eunuch, one can’t have any ‘showy accidents’, so to speak. A bump in the wrong area would raise questions not even Jinshi’s beauty could escape from. And lust, naturally, was a hinderance.
With his true status revealed, there was no need to suppress his manhood. And going from 24/7 medical suppression to free reign, still within hormonal teenage years, well… it’s no wonder it sets his “frog” loose. At least, far more jumpier than before when it was previously content to sit and sunbathe.
Still! That doesn’t mean he can just…!
Maomao honestly hardly recalls how their position came exactly to be. It was one of the many times Jinshi stopped by to visit Maomao’s place of work. Even if Maomao can’t work in the palace under the Moon Prince, Jinshi still willingly obscures his face in travel to sit in front of her. Typically, his presence was a distraction at best. But he’s made a habit of supplying hard to acquire herbs and ingredients that she could only dream of getting! Maomao would probably let a lot of things slide if someone brought her things so magnificent, she drools in her sleep cataloging all the ways to make use of them.
They were talking. The topic wasn’t very important… he asked for Maomao’s attention, so Maomao gave him once over, traced his healing scar that was fading into a noticeable line… her dad had stitched well, instead of a jagged line or forming raised shiny skin, it seemed to heal more thin and minimal, though still visible. Proof of experience, battle…
And the second she came to her senses, fingers on skin, Jinshi had captured the hand tracing him and leaned close. Extra close. He smelled softly fragrant as always, though Maomao would call this new blend even more… revealing. Sandalwood? A soft fruity scent too, not obnoxiously so, but something you’d catch the barest hint of when he walked by… while up close it retained its scent more like soft incense. Still not overbearing even in its proximity. It seemed revealing his upbringing allowed him to be more lavish.
Maomao wouldn’t consider it a bad change. It’s pleasing to the nose, certainly.
“You’re not paying attention to me at all, are you?” She hears, a hint of irritation in that silky smooth tone. She blinks into focus, though before she can speak a word to explain her observations, she feels the world tilt.
Cradled by the head, laid onto the wood while Jinshi’s other hand settles on her lower back. Ah… this position was…
“What do I have to do to be the one on your mind?” Jinshi whispers, head dropping beside hers so his voice goes directly into her ear. At the same time, his grip tightens. Maomao clasps his arms in retaliation, a cold sweat dripping down her face as she turns her head away.
“Well I was thinking about your scent…” she grumbles, petulant, and Jinshi hums, pulling his face back just enough to gaze directly at Maomao’s. Ugh. So close. Still handsome. Maomao wonders if others nearly faint getting this close to him. Perhaps viewing him from a distance was for the sake of everyone’s health.
“My scent?” Jinshi echoes. Maomao reluctantly explains with a furrow to her brow.
“Your scent is different.”
“Mm. Of course you noticed. Is it bad?” Jinshi asks. Why did he have that expression? It’s strange. Not mere curiosity. A hint of sadness, maybe. Why did he need Maomao’s approval anyhow?
“There’s nothing of concern in it. The blend was crafted quite well,” she answers. Jinshi’s lips twitch upward, yet an odd melancholy lingers. He’s both an open book and incomprehensible some days.
“Not what I meant. Was my old one better?” His fingers dance along Maomao’s lower back. Up and down. It tickles a little. His nervous tick done on her?
“Better is subjective. But if you want the opinion of a lowly commoner, this new scent befits your status. Neither was bad.” There. That should satisfy him, right? Jinshi seems to ponder her words a moment, that crafted, gentle thoughtful look he often does, before he descends and his nose is on her neck. What…. Was he doing…
Maomao’s face is unamused at best as he gives her a few light sniffs, running the underside of his nose featherlight against a vein. Many would probably squirm from the sensation.
“And you smell like such a mix of herbs I can barely distinguish one from the other,” he says. It’s normal (is any of this really normal?) otherwise… until she feels something far more soft on her neck, just slightly moist. Urgh, if he bites her again, she swears….
“Master Jinshi…” she warns. She isn’t even sure if it’s more for herself or him. He gets far too overzealous, doesn’t he?
“If we got closer, would our scents blend? Would I rub off on you? You, me?” Jinshi ponders, breath hot and lips soft against her neck as each syllable travels up to her ear.
“Well, science dictates that’s how scents work…”
“Maomao.” Jinshi says. Deep. It’s… rare he calls her directly. Very much so. It catches her attention, and he pulls back just barely. Are his hands shaking? Maomao thinks she discovers a slight tremor, though Jinshi manages a look far more composed than his body suggests. His gaze, frustrated before, seems to soften into what Maomao would probably classify as... fondness? At least, as much as she’s come to know it. Whatever that means.
He leans closer. The large hand that cradled her lower back let go to instead settle at her leg. He nudges it apart easily, settling his body between them. This was…
“Didn’t you promise me something?” he murmurs. He looks almost cheeky, but that look speaks of a heat that Maomao definitely has to smother!
“Did I? I have no clue what you’re talking about…” she feigns, absolutely not meeting that gaze. That would just enable him!
“Funny, I seem to remember perfectly. Is a district apothecary with limited memory trustworthy for medicine?” He goads. Ugh. He won’t give Maomao a break, will he…? She finds herself stiffen, brow twitching alongside her smile.
“Well, I listened without interruption last time…” she tries. She remembers some promises, sure. To listen. The hairpin. One unfortunately somewhat broken, but… come on! Can’t he take the hint?!
“And I recall someone who said we could continue where we left off,” he hums. Hard to say if this look is smug or almost yearning… wait wait not the point! His lips are getting closer!
“Master Jinshi, really I’m not befit…” Maomao begins. Odd. In the past she would immediately slap his hand away and claim he shouldn’t touch her because she was of lowly birth. A valid reason, be it escape or no. She hasn’t done that in a long time, even when he’s only become touchier...
“Just once,” Jinshi murmurs. He’s too close…! Maomao trembles, caught between a myriad of feelings from status (a pleasure district apothecary kissed by the Moon Prince?!), and merely the person in front of her (Master Jinshi holding her precariously yet cradling her like she’s something precious, lips closer) and somewhere between the panic of imminent danger, when his lips ghost over hers, her breath stills.
The gap doesn’t close immediately. Maomao thinks to voice something, but… no words come out. No, Jinshi just hovers there for moments far longer than necessary, enough for Maomao to gulp. When… did she close her eyes?
It feels like an eternity before soft warmth brushes over her own lips. It’s fairly predictable. His breath smells faintly sweet. Fruity tea. And his lips are soft and plump, nothing like the servant girls who often hosted dry lips unless a good balm came along. Maomao was hardly picky about her own lips, just enough salve to keep her lips plush and soft to avoid cracking. Nothing compared to the exquisite tastes of Jinshi, of course.
“Jeez, do you not know how to kiss someone?” Jinshi grumbles against her lips, and it’s then Maomao thinks… right. A kiss. He’s kissing her. Maomao was so focused she didn’t really process…
“Have you considered it’s because you shouldn’t lay your lips on a mere apothecary?” she snaps back, while Jinshi adjusts his hold with an equally snippy,
“Funny. I didn’t see you pulling away.”
Did Master Jinshi know his place? Really, he was in such a position where practically no one could truly refuse him if he came onto them.
Well… not like Maomao ever had an issue doing so before.
“I meant considering your place—“
“Shall we try again, then?” Jinshi interrupts easily. Without delay, Maomao finds her vision filled with a devastatingly, annoyingly gorgeous face and lips on hers once again. This time she feels more than the mere softness. The movement, something Maomao would almost describe as… a little clunky? For how suave his words are, he isn’t fully confident in the way he moves his mouth. While Maomao might not have a ton of first-hand experience, she absorbs information like a wet sponge and every practical technique she became aware of at the Verdigris house flickers through her mind.
Her hands cradle his face, something to give her leverage. He’s clumsy. That means she should lead. She pulls away only to pepper his lips softly at first, something her sisters would describe as “cute” and draws a shaky breath from Jinshi, before she presses deeper. The lips are a sensitive part of the body. It’s why lip injuries are particularly painful, and why many enjoy kissing. Handled with care, they can illicit quite the reaction. Like when she kisses with more purpose, and when she unobtrusively uses hints of her tongue. It draws these soft noises from Jinshi that make her drag him closer.
If he opened his mouth…. He seems to get the hint when Maomao pulls away less than a breath’s distance to part his lips with her thumb. There. Good. Maomao rubs his face just a little, silent praise, Jinshi seems to tremble, and it’s hard to fight her own voice when their lips, breaths, and tongues find their way to each other. He tastes mildly sweet and those breathy sounds from his mouth would be enough to send anyone into cardiac arrest. Wow. Her sisters really did put so much thought into perfecting this. A combination of breath work, reading your partner, not too much and not too little…
Then he’s pulling away with an urgency, panting and wiping excess saliva from his slightly swollen lip. His cheeks are flushed. Maomao blinks at him calmly in response, and somehow that seems to irritate him even more.
“Are you… used to this?” he asks between heavy breaths. Maomao purses her lips, annoyance mirroring his as she shakes her head.
“While I had good teachers, I’m merely a good listener. Sometimes ladies practiced on each other in the Verdigris house, but as I wasn’t a courtesan-in-training, it wasn’t necessary,” Maomao clarifies. Besides, she orally tested new poisons often. It wouldn’t do good for even residue to make any of the ladies ill, the old lady would have her head. Jinshi looks a mix of embarrassed, relieved, and still unsatisfied with Maomao’s response. Well Maomao did properly respond, what more did he want? Besides, he kissed her first! Mind the fact they shouldn’t even be kissing! Seriously!
“Anyway with that out of the way, I really should—“ she tries to turn away and escape. No good. Jinshi holds her firm. He presses… even closer. Even through the fabric of her bottoms, the thickness of his robes… surely she isn’t imagining what’s pressing against her. And so the frog returns…
“You’re so calm after. Meanwhile…” Jinshi murmurs. Is he embarassed? Prideful? Even men can get flustered after kissing. It’s a very normal biological response to even that level of stimulation, combined with emotional attachment. Maomao… supposes she’s known Jinshi a while by now. Then again, some people are more thrilled by the thought of strangers than friends. Jinshi though… Does he treat anyone else like this? Maomao’s never seen it. In fact, it’s even hard to imagine. He’s rather—
And his lips are on hers again. Hmm. Well. Looks like Jinshi is a quick hands-on learner too. He catches on quickly, mirroring the techniques Maomao tried and even seems to do a few of his own. The trace of his tongue against delicate parts of her lips and mouth, never too deep or too probing, just soft enough to elicit a sigh as his hands anchor at her hips. Hmm. Maomao must be a good teacher. He’s nowhere near as good as her, of course. But for it being their first exchange of kisses, she supposes it internally deserves some praise.
“You look smug…” Jinshi grumbles. Maomao blinks. Oh. Was she too obvious? Perhaps she was preening a little too hard…
Jinshi sighs and traces her lip, lashes dipped as he gazes at Maomao’s mouth, then back into her eyes. His cheeks are mildly flushed, pupils blown. He kisses the corner of Maomao’s lips. This one more tender.
Jinshi has made a variety of faces this encounter alone. He was rather expressive, though not unusual for when they’re alone… his brow furrows as he shakes a little, before letting out a heavy groan and putting his hand to his head.
“And here I thought I was doing so well…” he grumbles. It seems to be to himself. What a reaction. Last time he had that one… Maomao’s eyes trail from his face to between his legs. Hmm. Something of that size must be a little uncomfortable confined, huh?
It’s not her job. She should leave it, make some excuse and scurry out of the room before they engage in something irreversible…
Instead, her fingers move to his robes. With a firm push he actually, willingly yields to, she props herself upwards alongside him and undoes them in earnest.
“H-Hey, you—“
“Is this not what you wanted?” Maomao murmurs. Really, worrying about chastity now? Who’s the hypocrite? Layer by layer is peeled off and the top falls. Jinshi, chiseled as ever. Despite the scar that decorates his face, his body is relatively untouched. A few small scrapes here and there so well taken care of and faded they’re negligible. Not the focus though. Lower.
Even his undergarments are expensive. The cloth wrapping him is high quality. Well woven. She’s careful undoing them, can’t tear his highness’ clothing. She’d lose her head for less.
There’s hardly any shame. It’s good to see what she’s gotta work with.
Which is… a lot. Touching it clothed might not have done it justice. It’s about as pretty as the rest of him, which comes off as a shock to absolutely no one. Almost textbook perfect. Maomao hasn’t seen many physical examples of male anatomy in front of her aside from books or animals, so… she can’t help the way her mind studies. The color. Curve. The veins running along the shaft and the way he’s standing pretty high to attention from only kissing. He enjoyed it that much, huh…?
“Are you just gonna keep staring at it?!” Jinshi says, a little louder than his usual. Maomao’s eyes flicker to his, calm as ever.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed. It looks quite good. You would be perfect for an anatomy diagram,” Maomao recites honestly. She would think it’s a compliment, but Jinshi doesn’t seem all too pleased at her words. Tough crowd.
Must ache. Suppressed for so long. Maomao reaches her hand out, fingers barely brushing the erection and it twitches between the two of them. Jinshi tenses, lips parted like he wants to say something but has no clue what.
Jinshi doesn’t seem to have any objections. And if anything, this is a double learning experience. Her first time properly feeling up a man’s body, first hand anatomy lesson… and to test the passed along techniques of courtesans past applicable to her. Sure, she can’t exactly make use of larger assets, but hands are a very effective tool.
Well. All or nothing! Maomao inhales sharply, puts her game face on, and wraps a firm hand around Jinshi’s length. It sits warm and thick and very much alive in her palm. Jeez. Can’t even close her fingers around it fully. Her eyes flicker up to Jinshi’s face, who’s watching her with quivering lips and wide, slightly surprised yet embarrassed eyes. She squeezes, eyes directly on him, and a rasp catches in his throat, shifting in embarrassment. He was like this before when her touch was a little more accidental. He must be sensitive…
It starts with a few strokes, Maomao settled between his bent knees as her fingers move in unison. Not too rough, she doesn’t want to damage his skin. But Jinshi seems pleased, if his tensing was any indication. There’s generally two realms of men in this department; those who keep their composure and are critical of touch. Perhaps how the current emperor may be, or… Jinshi’s hips twitch upward when Maomao drags her thumb across the pink-tinted head. Just over the slit, back to the sensitive skin where the crown connects to the shaft, a soft noise escaping him.
Those who are sensitive and lose themselves in the touch. To be honest, Maomao prefers this. Much less pressure when the person to ‘impress’ is already taken apart by a few soft strokes.
“T…the way you look at it… is unnerving…” Jinshi whispers. His chest rises and falls with each breath, heavy. And when Maomao moves her hand just so, words seem to escape in the hitch of his breath.
“If you want someone to take care of you, I suggest you not be picky about the way they observe you,” Maomao says. Jinshi stiffens, indignant and flustered and looks ready to bicker back and forth as always, but Maomao needs to take care of this in front of her first. Frog? More like a snake…
She drags wetness from the beading tip down so she can move easier. Right. The goal isn’t purely technique, but adjusting to how the body adapts to it. To find what’s liked most, least. Even if it isn’t verbalized, the body is telling. She watches Jinshi’s adam’s apple bob as she adjusts her hold slightly. Now, she works one hand lower to his balls. A sensitive yet often neglected area, and picks up a rhythm. She must be doing well. He grasps her, fingers enclosing around her lower back as he sighs, rolling into the firmness of her palm. He pulls her close, lips by her ear to whisper in a half-moan, “it feels good,” and Maomao twists her hand just the right way so his voice comes out high-pitched and choppy, fingers trembling. He’s been shaking this entire time, actually. Maomao’s hands are steady, but even his lips by her ear tremble.
Dual sensation is effective. She goes from one hand on his balls to rubbing her palm on the crown as she jerks a more faster, unforgiving rhythm. She’s rewarded with noises, a dipped head with pretty wet open lips, and eyes clouded in pleasure as he jerks into her touch more than a few times. He’s far better when words elude him. And when he does try to speak, she just happens to squeeze him a little harder, get an “ah…”, and settle a little closer. He’s so thick in her palm, he must’ve gotten bigger the more she excited him, and the way he’s getting more tense and looks more flustered, borderline squirming, he must be close.
She doesn’t stop. Not when he’s clutching at her, not when he’s whispering, “hey, I think I’m going to…”, and not when his breath catches and his body goes stiff. Wetness coats her palm, milky in sight and slightly thick in texture. She continues, through each twitch and trembling sigh as Jinshi clings to her and whispers soft things she can barely name out.
Maomao must admit, the face when he comes might be one of his most devastating. Those blissed out eyes, the complete loss of his composure, the shyness in his gaze, his embarrassment… it really is the most perfect blend of ingredients in human form. Equally healing and poisonous in its effectiveness.
As his hips twitch and she drags out the last droplets, her eyes narrow. Hmm. This technique is partial to what the man enjoys. Usually he’s the first to suggest it, it could make him almost angry otherwise, and yet… Maomao’s eyes lock with Jinshi’s. So shy and unobtrusive.
She drags her palm to the head and circles it without break. Jinshi’s hips twitch up, almost desperate and a noise that seems to surprise him comes from his throat. He puts a hand to his mouth, but Maomao strokes with even more vigor with a significant amount of attention to the head and Jinshi jerks, brow furrowing as his legs nearly kick out.
“What are you doing—hey—wait-“ he rasps, voice shot, and squirms like a mouse caught in a cat’s claws. To think a mere hand is so effective at disarming someone. Jinshi moves his hands to hers but Maomao pushes through his weak attempts to still her with the most strength she can muster to jerk him with an intensity that makes his thighs quiver.
“Seems like a cat’s got your tongue,” Maomao hums. Or rather, captured something else. Her fingers close around the swollen head and squeeze (never too hard), practically massaging with an effectiveness that draws a sound almost akin to a cry from Jinshi’s lips as he shakes his head, face flushed.
“Wai—ah—idiot, you’re not supposed to..! It, ngh, shit, you—“ Jinshi’s hands seem to tremble with the strength to not shove Maomao away as he bucks beneath her fingers. Yeah. The body becomes so sensitive right after orgasm it can almost be painful. But maybe Jinshi can consider this retribution for biting her. He whimpers, hand shaking at her shoulder with a soft pressure like he wants to escape but that option is worse than enduring. Whether it’s pleasure or pain, Maomao finds herself satisfied either way. The extent of human sensation is a fascinating subject in its own right. She strangely can’t bring herself to stop, like an addictive blend she wants to take over and over… whether the addiction is funded by his raspy whimpers or the desperate, pleading expression in those sinful eyes.
Ah, she manages again. Semen spills out, weaker and thinner, while Jinshi nearly sobs in front of her, trembling and twitching up into her incessant hands. Each breath is staggered, so is the tense and release of his muscles until he grits his teeth, rasps “you—!” And her world is tilted once more. Rougher this time, though Jinshi always knows to cradle her head so it doesn’t bang on the floor.
He glares at her from above, face and ears deeply red with a spread to his chest. He really was such a work of art… He hangs, half-hard, and Maomao might have provoked him a little too far this time.
“You… were you trying to torture me?!” he exclaims, meanwhile Maomao shrugs, though perhaps her cheekiness comes through. Just a little.
“It would be improper of me to leave you with only one orgasm. I was doing you a favor,” she says. Well. Usually the standard was to wait until sensitivity decreased, but it wasn’t so bad seeing Jinshi unable to formulate a sentence.
“One orgasm my ass. That hurt, you know,” Jinshi hisses. Yep, definitely mad. He descends and of course her neck is a victim once more. Maomao paws at Jinshi with a yelped “no biting!” But he isn’t that sharp, just rough. He attacks her neck with kisses like it specifically did him wrong and this is the only way to get payback. Maomao’s head tilts up a little, the skin is sensitive, and he trails down with moist lips, pausing to suck a mark that will definitely bruise. Ugh, is he some dog marking his territory? Maomao bats at his head, and Jinshi retaliates with a nip that makes her twitch. Annoying.
Jinshi pulls away and before Maomao knows it, Jinshi’s already tugging at her clothes. Indecent… but she supposed she nearly stripped him as well. He doesn’t stop at her outer layer, he stares at her underlayer, slips a warm palm beneath her top at her waist, and hooks his other finger into the top of her bottoms. Ah…
“If you wanna give me another one, maybe you should do it this way instead,” he grumbles, and he once again does the thing where he stares at Maomao a long hard moment. Maomao’s not sure if her face is blank or mildly disgruntled, but whatever it is, it’s enough for Jinshi to tug off her lower layer.
And now, she is exposed. This is probably the first time she’s been exposed in this manner to a man. The air is cool, but Jinshi’s warm. He drags himself close, erection pressed against her bare wet heat (arousal is a natural involuntary response to a sexual situation), and once again he’s back to these pursed lips and trembling. With nerves? The strength of holding himself back?
His hair falls to her own cheeks and tickles her. Smooth and silky, the color of plums. While Maomao’s no stranger to his height, when she takes the time to focus on the size of his palm lifting her thigh, the build of his body, and the thickness pressed against her heat… well, even she has to gulp. The human body can handle much. Including an entire tiny human being. The canal expands with proper arousal (is Maomao aroused enough?!) but that doesn’t make the prospect any less intimidating.
Maomao chews her lip and sharply inhales. Another task to conquer, one she shouldn’t even attempt completing and there’s no logical reason she shouldn’t stop before it’s too late, but naturally, she doesn’t. He drags himself against her, her own arousal coating his already wet shaft.
Maomao will have to take pills after, good thing she has a stock on hand.
Jinshi puts a hand beneath her bottom, lifting her to him, and works his hips so the head presses at her entrance instead. While Maomao’s somewhat wet — she’s not sure if it’s enough wetness to accommodate…. Her eyes flicker from between her wide spread legs to above her, Jinshi looking at her with these still needy, aroused yet somewhat antsy eyes. She’s pretty sure he wants to say something, but he remains mute still.
It’s only when Maomao meets his gaze directly he dare pushes.
Yeah. That won’t be easy. Maomao trembles, lower half going a little stiff while Jinshi grunts, abdomen tensing. Relaxing is better, but fighting her natural response proves a little difficult. Even when he just barely breaches, her thighs quiver. Dammit. It aches. She’s not exactly used to large things entering her. It would frustrate her to simply end it though. Initial ache often gives way to pleasure soon after. Her brows furrow in concentration to relax, not tense… maybe squeeze something. No sheets beneath her, so she grasps at Jinshi’s neck instead with a weak sound. He presses just a little further in, at least the crown, and she lets out this little choked noise as her hips arch. Thick. It… Maomao’s fingers clutch him, trembling.
Maomao hears a heavy sigh from above her. Carefully, Jinshi withdraws, and cradles her body as he lifts her up.
“Master Jinshi…?”
“This isn’t working. And I don’t like the look on your face,” he huffs. Clothes askew, he carries her out of the medicinal area and to her resting chamber instead. He lowers her against the softer bedding, sitting up between her legs. He seems to cycle through a ton of emotions before settling on “if it hurts, you can tell me y’know.”
“I was fine,” Maomao objects. They might’ve only needed an external lubricant. Preparation could also make the insertion easier, though some women also find fingers are far more uncomfortable than a penis. Maomao… well… she honestly can’t remember the last time she tried for herself. She didn’t focus on internal as much as external. And at a point she got bored and the sensitivity came in before she could even reach proper orgasm. She considered that particular experiment a failure and had little interest in repeating it.
“You were shaking.”
“So were you.”
“That’s different!” Jinshi retaliates. He lets out a heavy, harsh sigh and instead lowers his head. Not to Maomao’s face like usual, but… between her legs. She blinks. Wait. He wants to… her?
“That’s unnecessary Master Jinshi,” she says, a hand to his head. Really. She doesn’t need it. But Jinshi just glares up at her from between her thighs as though she insulted his manhood.
“And what kind of man would I be if I couldn’t pleasure you too?” He barks. Okay. So maybe she inadvertently did. But it wasn’t like Maomao would be frustrated without it, it was more interesting when she could catalogue the experience on someone else and—
“Just quit being stubborn and let me take care of you,” he says, softer but no less determined. Maomao, tense before, blinks at him in mild surprise as her body relaxes in his hold. Jinshi takes that as a sign, lips finding her thigh.
Sensitive. Another human’s touch can feel so different from merely touching oneself. Her thighs are held open for him to mark with his lips even when she trembles — ah — what mess was he making down there?! She feels a combination of sharp nips followed by a warm tongue, sometimes the suction of his lips, and her fingers are a little unsteady as they settle on his head. Jeez. It’s good even her undergarments cover that area…
Then he’s higher. A broad tongue across her vulva. It’s… warm. Unfamiliar. And he grasps her thighs to anchor himself as he goes quick from a flat tongue to razor focus on the bud of her. Jinshi looks far too pleased when Maomao’s hips jump a little into his touch when his tongue presses. Experiments. Well. At least Jinshi knew the right places to… mm…
Maomao brushes her fingers over Jinshi’s bangs thoughtfully before moving to stare back up at the ceiling. If someone had came and told her a year and a half ago the emperor’s brother would be between her thighs, she’d call them a madman. If someone told her a month after that Master Jinshi would be between her thighs, she’d think they were on a hallucinogen. It’s been such a gradual shift it’s hard to document. When did they get to a point where this was strangely natural…?
Jinshi uses his tongue to circle her, firm with soft flicks before gently sucking, a constant pressure whether he’s dancing around or focused only on the bud. His hands come to rest on her folds, pressing, massaging and Maomao exhales shakily as her hips press into his mouth, seeking more of their own volition. He’s really determined to bring her pleasure, huh? She feels the bed wet beneath her as she drips onto it, and it’s hard to describe the feeling. Not exactly embarrassment, but she’s a little reluctant for a smug Jinshi to see her face and hear how fast her heart is beating… it’s all natural responses… but… but…
When he keeps moving with that pattern her arousal starts to climb. Higher. More. One massaging hand dips down to her entrance while his tongue remains busy. He tests, just brushing his thumb over the wetness. Then he carefully sinks in a strong finger and curls, making Maomao’s body curl in turn as her breath hitches. The pressure and pleasure are an unfamiliar combo and the way her arousal rises, she almost wants to escape. Her hips tremble and Jinshi blinks up.
This was probably…
“Master Jinshi… I’m more than fine…” Maomao rasps, finding her body more restless. The arousal itself she isn’t unfamiliar to. But she doesn’t want to disappoint Jinshi if he can’t bring her to orgasm.
“Fine? Well I’m not satisfied at all,” he grumbles, and he curls his finger in a way that draws an unceremonious squeak from Maomao. Oh. She’s never made that noise before.
Urk. Maomao can certainly feign the bodily reaction of an orgasm, but…!
“I really-!”
“If you really want to stop, you can pinch me. Otherwise…” Jinshi murmurs against her, barely pulling away enough to not be muffled. Maomao honestly does consider pinching his ear, it protects his own ego! But he slips two fingers inside and never relents on his pressure. The skill of his tongue, the suction of his warm mouth. It grows steadily, and the silence Maomao is used to retaining when she’s on her own suddenly gets a lot more impossible. Her breaths, short and ragged, sometimes come out with barely held back noises as he thrusts two digits in and curls against her deep in the area that makes her utterly breathless. It’s hard to control her body, she’s rolling into him so shamelessly.
Maomao catches Jinshi’s eyes, just for a moment. She’s not sure what her own face looks like, but however it does, it makes Jinshi drag her closer with his free hand and hold her as he practically devours her. For how clumsy he was at kissing…! He was annoyingly skilled! Her back arches and she’s somewhere between stiff and squirming, these high sounds that never come from her escaping even in her instinct to bite them back. Shit… she’s never felt like this before… usually she’s used to hitting a point until she can’t do anything more. And nothing ever proceeds beyond that peak of pleasure. Perhaps her supposed former peak was merely the middle of the mountain…
Somehow Jinshi slips in three fingers. Oh. Full. She clenches around them as he moans around her clit and she rasps “Master Jinshi…” fingers clutching his hair for purchase desperately. Is she hurting him…? He doesn’t seem to mind. His name is only encouragement, his own hips rock against the bed as he seeks his singular goal Maomao can’t deter him from no matter how much she squirms and rasps or squeezes the life out of him with her thighs.
It climbs and climbs until it collapses without her control, all at once. She pulses rhythmically around his fingers that continue to thrust. Almost uncontrollably her legs tremble, body otherwise tense as she reaches what she thinks could be classified as an orgasm. It fills her whole body, mind, arousal so thick she can barely breathe as wetness coats Jinshi’s chin. He doesn’t stop throughout, he holds her and sucks until Maomao is shaking. And even then, he holds her hips and swirls still so she’s whimpering and squirming against his hands. Ugh! His own revenge?! But after a few oversensitive laps and curling his fingers deep, he relents. They slip out, pruned, and he licks a stripe down to her own wetness and tastes her in earnest… Was he a fan of the taste…?
He cleans her with his mouth shamelessly, making Maomao’s hips twitch, weakly pulsing around his tongue, until he finally comes up for air.
“I didn’t know you were the type to make quite the mess,” he teases, eyes narrowed in a blissed out satisfaction practically equal to when Maomao pleasured him. He swipes a thumb across his wet chin and licks the excess. Was doing that to her really enjoyable for him too…?
She glances down at her supposed mess. Oh, that was wet. Really wet. Like… soaked even. She’ll need to wash this. Maomao didn’t even realize when his mouth was latched onto her… she wasn’t aware her body had the ability to do that. It wasn’t something all women managed, after all.
She blinks up at Jinshi’s face. Mouth wet, chin wet, even the top of his neck wet. Her own doing. She sits up slowly, exhaling.
“Apologies, I didn’t realize… ow!”
Jinshi chops her straight on the head.
“Don’t apologize for feeling good. Idiot,” he chastises. Frustrated as always. Well.. she supposed that was a way to describe it. Sexual pleasure was so strange. It’s good in the same way a sting from poison was. The feeling in the moment is almost addictive, intriguing, even if “pleasure” might not be a direct description in its entirety.
“I’m impressed. You were able to make me come. Even I couldn’t manage that,” Maomao hums indifferently. She looks down at her body, top still covered but lower half exposed. Would she be able to on her own? Or was it perhaps a matter of fingers lack the suction a mouth can provide?
“You… never…?” Jinshi might as well be looking at a stranger who made the most bizarre claim in existence the way his gaze settles on Maomao. Jeez. He should take it as a compliment. It really was one! Maomao’s heard more than a few stories of men who were eager to be pleased and not so keen on pleasing, or they simply didn’t have the determination to learn to be good.
“My own fingers weren’t sufficient. I suppose your mouth does the trick,” Maomao says, observing her nails. Well. At least she can derive pleasure from Jinshi even if she hits a wall with her own.
Jinshi stills, breath gone. Suddenly, Maomao yelps as she’s dragged towards him and her head hits the bedding. Her hips are lifted in the air, legs over his shoulders as Jinshi’s mouth hovers so close she can feel his breath. Didn’t he just?! He looks like a mad man!
“Once more.”
“You just did it!”
“It would be improper of me to leave you with only one orgasm.”
“You…!” Maomao squirms while Jinshi looks absolutely ready to devour her once more. One mouthful wasn’t enough? How greedy was this man?!
“Y’know.. the faces you make when my mouth is on you… when my fingers are in you…” Jinshi murmurs, nuzzling his nose into the marks he left. “They’re beautiful, Maomao.” He drags his teeth up her sensitive inner thigh, fingers soothingly stroking her. “You’re gorgeous.”
“…” Whatever squirming Maomao was doing, it softens just a little. His compliment combined with her name rings in her ears, and she chews on her lip, expression tense. Maomao’s not exactly most men’s first pick. She lacks assets, curves. She’s scrawny, rather short and malnourished. She considers herself unattractive by most standards.
And here, the man people would argue is one of the most beautiful in all the land, enough to make men and women alike melt, is calling her beautiful. Is it pity? But was Jinshi even the type?
“You’re one to talk…” she grumbles, head turned to the side. Maomao thinks her cheeks feel warm… no. Impossible. It’s just the heat from being so close to Jinshi, is all.
“Yeah. I’m sure I am,” Jinshi laughs softly into her skin. Yet Maomao can’t deny the way he buries his face against her thigh and higher still… almost feels like worship.
“May I?” He murmurs, hands encouraging Maomao to wrap her legs around his neck. Maomao grits her teeth, frustrated at the way her thighs shake and she feels that heavy arousal sit in her gut, unsatisfied. Dammit all to hell.
Maomao refuses to meet his gaze. She merely lifts her hips to his hovering lips.
There are lots of ways Maomao could spend her time. And many people Maomao could spend her time with.
This was far from the worst.
Author’s Notes Conclusion,,, Maomao is oblivious. Lol. Lowk it was gonna be penetrative after, but ending here felt more right! Jinshi is a certified munch, a connoisseur of loving his meal (Maomao)
Writing from Maomao’s POV and how she gets lost in her head/how she approaches things is really fun!! It’s funny bc this would be written soooo differently from Jinshi’s POV.
The Sun in your Hands [18+ Caleb x Female Reader/MC]
Summary
Even if his image belonged to the entire cosmos, his heart belongs only to you.
Caleb’s yours. He always has been.
Major Content Warnings: Sibling Incest
Tags High Marshal Caleb, Empress MC, POV Second Person, Incest, Underage Kissing (same as in-game), Character Study, Relationship Study, Codependency, Prequel, Snippets through the life of CalebMC, Exploring their past, Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Sexual Overstimulation
Word Count 6,303
Read on Archive of our Own
Lads Fic Masterlist
Author’s Notes So like basically, when this dropped obviously I was in a bit of shock Infold went for it… but I was actually more frustrated that them being related felt handled a bit more flippantly?? Like it meant nothing other than shock value.
So I wanted to write this to explore how they got to this point since we don’t get much of their childhood! And how they got to where they are. Messy dynamics are fun to explore :’)
Usually I write gender neutral MC/Reader fics actually but I fear “younger sibling” does not hit remotely as hard lmao. This is one of my rare exceptions.
You’re not sure when things changed. Maybe they never did. Is the Caleb between your thighs right now the same Caleb who would pet your head when you were a child? Listening to your bold proclamations on becoming empress far before he could get a hand on the throne. Did your big brother become something more… or were the lines so blurry from the start, this is what you always were?
You don’t remember much about your father. His appearance in your memory is a vague, blurry silhouette… even when you pass by portraits in the palace, he feels like a distant stranger. Despite being flesh and blood, you don’t know if you ever knew him at all.
You’re the second heir of the Cosmic Empire. Born and raised to potentially rule or secure alliances with neutral nations, a physical representation of its prosperity. Despite your very existence being an asset to the empire, the person who rules it has only looked at you with contempt.
Even at your young age, you noticed these looks weren’t limited to your father. Did people think you were too young to notice? The suffocating air of a false smile, a grin too sharp, and eyes too power hungry. That same gaze in all those your father invited to the palace for diplomatic meetings, whom he’d introduce his two children to, the jewels of the Cosmic Empire. The pretty name didn’t befit the way strangers looked upon you.
Only one person never looked at you this way. Not once. Instead they were these open, honest eyes, equivalent to a bitapup. Gorgeous. They mimic a supernova in the galaxy, and sparkle like starlight.
You once told him, “Caleb. Your eyes are like the whole galaxy!”
He just laughed and responded, “it’s because I’m looking at you.”
Your big brother wasn’t like anyone else you knew. He was an heir too. Older, first in line. But he didn’t see you as something bad. Instead, he’d sneak your favorite fruits to your room after dark, and find ways to acquire your favorite toys after negotiating with the maids. He was the kindest to you! He’d even play dolls no matter how “girly” it was, and let you put bows in his hair. Caleb treated you like you were the best thing to ever happen to him.
He’d tell you it’s what brothers are for when you asked him why he was so nice. When you asked what fathers are for, then, he’d just pat your head and remain quiet. So even Caleb didn’t have all the answers.
Days later, when you stubbornly told him you were too old for toys now (the maids had told you so…), Caleb flicked your head and laughed, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “You haven’t even hit the double digits yet. Let me spoil my little sister a little more, okay? If you hate my next gift, you can throw it right back in my face.”
…You didn’t.
No. You cherished Caleb’s gifts. Even when you glared at him and acted like they were no big deal, or you were far above childish toys.
You should hate Caleb. You really should. While your father looked at you with these resentful, mournful eyes… he never gave Caleb that look. Instead, Caleb really did seem like a crown jewel of the Alore Galaxy. To father, at least. You wonder what it’s like, to have father’s favor. But Caleb looked like he enjoyed being with you lots more…
Caleb was a pretty hard guy to resent when he gave you the attention, love, and care no one else dared to. Spoiled you rotten. No matter how many times you tried to push him away. Then clung to him the next day. He’d embrace you when you thought he was the best brother. And laugh, agreeing when you claimed he was the worst brother. Whether you praised him, or glared at him in suspicion, Caleb was rarely off put by your mood. He seemed happy to just be with you, no matter how you approached him or what you were feeling that day.
You think… Caleb taught you the idea of unconditional love.
—
Your father died when you were ten years old. An accident on a flight. No survivors to tell the tale.
There’s quiet whispers of it potentially being a covert assassination. Those who speak the rumors clam up when your eyes bore up into them, wide and not shy.
When people complimented your bravery for not crying at his funeral, you had to fight back a grossly inappropriate laugh. Your brother had squeezed your hand, and despite being your father’s favorite, it was impossible to miss the sharp look in your brother’s eye.
The same look others gave you two. On your father’s death bed, your brother touched his hand once, more of a courtesy, before laying him to rest next to the late empress.
Is it romantic to be buried together? Perhaps it’s more romantic to perish together.
“Now that he’s gone, will you…” you murmur after the funeral. You gently push on a swing they had installed at Caleb’s request, for you, naturally. Caleb chuckles and shakes his head, poking between your brows.
“I’m too young. There will be an interim leader for now. Until we’re old enough, at least,” he explains. You figured… but Caleb painted himself as so poised and mature, you thought maybe he really could be a leader at his age. He got a growth spurt, stood tall, and started carrying this same cold look to strangers befit of everyone in the court…
“Yeah? I think in that time I can become empress instead,” you declare, pushing yourself in a gentle swing. It’s not the first time you’ve said it. You joked it a lot, and Caleb would joke about how you have to grow a little taller to catch up to him. This time though, Caleb gives you this complicated smile and grabs the arms of the swing, leaning down so you have to crane your neck up at him.
Is the way your heart thumps normal?
“Still think you’d catch up to me?” Caleb asks. You give this fake, thoughtful look, like you’re actually considering the possibility. Can you? Well… when Caleb looks at you like you can’t, you want to out of spite.
“Maybe I’ll win the court’s favor, and they’ll support me instead,” you say. You’re still getting daily politics lessons as you learn more about The Empire. Power struggles, at long time strife with another nation. That sounded so dull… but wearing the crown. Being beloved. Even the one to bring peace and prosperity… and to see the look on Caleb’s face. You want it all.
“If you wanna be the next empress…” Caleb lets go of one arm of the swing to gently cup your cheek. His glove is cool. You wish you felt the warmth of his hand instead. “Then you really gotta quit falling asleep in your lessons.”
From then on, Caleb never again joked about you needing to catch up to him. Was that when he chose his new goal? Was his new goal of his own doing, or to compliment your own? Maybe both. He always did say he’d get you anything you wanted.
—
No one dared tease you the way Caleb did. Perhaps no one else had the right to, and that’s one of the many reasons he was so special. When you were with him you weren’t an heir to teach or appease. You were just yourself. Someone Caleb would pat on the head, hold his gifts to you over his head to make you jump for them until you glared, before he gave it to you with a stupid grin.
The older you both got, the busier you were attending meetings to show face, dinners, and proper lessons. So every stolen moment felt like a gift. A reprieve from everything official. All duties and obligations melted away when you had Caleb.
Caleb gave you what no one else could. A sense of comfort. Security. Even if the world turned on you — Caleb would always be part of your life. It felt like Caleb was always yours, the person who would be part of your life, in your orbit.
In the hidden corner of your greenhouse — the scent of flowers (these came from a duchess trying to introduce her young son to you. Caleb’s smile seemed to twitch as he accepted them in your steed) envelop you. Caleb pushes a new dessert — a trial run of a new confectionery from a popular bakery, apparently — past your lips. Caleb gets his claws into the strangest places, all you did was eye a dessert a little too hard. Now his fingers guide you to bite what he offers in secret. You would protest you don’t need to be fed like a child… but it tastes so divine you can almost forgive him. It has a sweet apple, jammy filling that graces your tastebuds, decorated quite cute too, with little hearts. Practice for a new dessert for the annual day of love, Caleb said.
“A future empress can’t make a mess when she eats her food,” Caleb murmurs affectionately, swiping away a bit of jam from your mouth. You merely glare at him, shoulders going stiff.
“I wouldn’t if you weren’t feeding me. You should treat me with more dignity,” you retort. Future empress. Caleb says it with certainty. An inevitable future you’re racing towards. What was once a childish fantasy you were born into felt like something you were now vying towards. Caleb was the crown heir, it should’ve been him, but he watches you with an air of reverence every time you speak of your grand future. And you wonder…
“If I become empress, what shall you be? The empress’s brother? His highness who deferred the crown?” You query, peering up into his eyes. A rather funny conversation for two teenagers crouching in the depths of a greenhouse, the one place you’re rarely interrupted.
That thought sits bitter. You want the crown because of your worth, not because of Caleb’s complacency.
“Our nation has been at odds for a long time…” he hums. He looks up, almost wistful as he considers this. Well. Of course. You’ve learned much about the Glory Federation at this point. A nation born of inner discontent that boiled over. Resulting in war and has been bordering the cusp of it ever since. You’ve been given every reason to see them as the enemy. History will always favor the side that writes it.
“Scared of taking over this kinda nation?” you tease. Caleb just exhales lightly through his nose with a knowing, unbothered smile.
“If I was High Marshal, imagine what we could do,” he chuckles. So casual, you almost think nothing of it. Then the words hit you and you blink. More than a few times. Was that a joke…?
…That is not the look of a teasing Caleb.
“You’re joking, aren’t you?”
Caleb just feeds another bite into your mouth. You should hit him.
“You know, there’s only so much to achieve here solo. And if I was emperor, what would you be? The emperor’s younger sister?” He queries. He catches the wrinkle in your forehead and laughs, swiping his thumb over it. “You’d never be satisfied with that.”
You grit your teeth. No. You wouldn’t. You want many things. And you’ve decided long ago no matter who the heir in front is — even your brother, you will wear the crown. Beyond the crown, you’ve been writing things down. Perhaps still naive ideas, implementations, opinions… but you think you’d be capable of leader. You’re as capable, no matter how people compare you to Caleb. The current placebo leader… he doesn’t deserve the throne. He’s rather complacent. The public looks upon him lukewarm. Nothing to praise, not enough to criticize. You wouldn’t be a useless sitting duck, you would…
Caleb catches your attention again by feeding you the last crumbs of the dessert.
“The current High Marshal…. They’re nothing to write home about. The Glory Federation has so much potential locked behind a mediocre leader. Same here. So why not leave here to whom I trust most?”
You hastily swallow your bite and your brain piles with a jumble of thoughts. Complaints. Ways to refute. Every reason he’s wrong that he’ll simply laugh off and deny.
“We’d be enemies.”
“Mmm… my baby sister, my most formidable opponent. How will I ever cope?” he teases. His light-heartedness makes you want to shake him so he can understand the frustration brewing in you. Is everything a joke to him?
“They… but you can’t just become High Marshal one day…” you murmur. It sounds weak, even to you.
“The Glory Federation has the best military academy in the cosmos. I’ve been studying hard to apply. It’s the perfect in to work up from there,” he says. All the way in the Neezier Galaxy, light years apart from the one person you never want to be apart from… how is it Caleb can both give you everything you want and everything you don’t want?
“You won’t be here,” you whisper. Dammit. You sound pitiful. You shouldn’t show your weakness so carelessly…
Caleb’s eyes soften. He scoots over, and pulls your head to rest on his shoulder. Larger arms wrap around and hold you close. His warmth is like a warm summer day. Caleb’s always reminded you of the sun. What you need to grow and thrive, who revitalizes you. Though now, he might burn you…
Caleb’s hands splay across your back. His voice is soft by your ear, that seems to burn when he speaks.
“I know. I’ll visit when I’m free. You’ll still have lots of people here, you know,” he says. So soft. You squeeze his top, unconvinced. What’s he trying to say? That you won’t be alone? Won’t be lonely? Doesn’t he understand that without him, you…
“But I’ll…” miss you sits on your tongue. Too raw. Instead you hold him tighter.
“You can’t get rid of me that easy. Whether I’m holding on to you, or I’m light-years away, I’ll always be here for you,” he soothes. Caleb has this featherlight voice that always seems to make you relax. Even as it grows deeper, the richness is only easier to melt into. No one. Nothing and no one ever compared to Caleb. His adoration. His care. Trust. Support. It’s his fault you’re so greedy for him, so he can’t blame you for not wanting him to leave.
“…Caleb,” you murmur. Just his name. You can’t see his face, but you feel a small tremble in his hands as he squeezes you harder.
“We’ll always have each other,” he says. You want to believe it so desperately. It has to be true. Your brother, your future enemy, your fellow heir. No matter what title Caleb adorns, he’s yours, isn’t he? Your Caleb.
Even if his image belonged to the entire cosmos, his heart belongs only to you.
—
Once, two maids were helping to dress you in a fancy gown for a ball you had to attend. A bit gaudy for your taste, but it called for the occasion, and you were still a bit too young to refuse. The maids lace your corset delicately, chatting gossip with you.
“Has anyone caught your eye yet, your highness? A duke’s nephew from this nation seemed to fancy you. But there was also the archduke of the Zovari Galaxy’s child…” she prattles on. You wonder why the courting status of a fresh teenager catches her interest, but you’re not much in a mood to reprimand either.
“I don’t have to think about courting for a long while,” you huff. The other maid laughs as she finishes lacing your corset, switching to adjusting your petticoat.
“It doesn’t have to be courting just yet. Even a small crush. Her highness can have feelings. We wouldn’t tell,” this maid winks. Ah, how irritating. Even hearing the names of irrelevant people sour your mood.
“They’re a bore. None compare to Caleb anyhow.”
Their fingers pause for a brief moment, then the two of them continue doting over you, a fondness in their eyes. You’re made to lift your arms, and they gently pull the dress over you.
“His highness is very kind. Surely, he’d make sure her highness was happy with whoever she favored. Ah, perhaps we’re pestering you too soon? Maybe those feelings haven’t developed yet…”
“That’s true... And here we were interrogating her poor highness. Forgive our imprudence,” the other maid finishes off. You hold your tongue from biting their heads clean off, an ire you’re not used to filling you. Kind. Happy. Feelings…
These emotions. Caleb was your brother, and yet…
He’s the only one who’s stirred these types of thoughts before. Though if you voiced it, you’re sure they’d laugh and say you were just confused and haven’t met the right boy yet.
Is that true? Could anyone ever compare to what Caleb has given you your entire life?
—
You’ve read many books and many plays. Literature was equally as big a study as politics and the general state of your nation. There were a number of historical masterpieces (those were usually yawn-inducing), to fables, to romance novels, to action, to consume. When you had nothing to do, as you grew, the second best leisure Caleb would bring you were books you hadn’t heard of, but the public approved of.
You’ve even read fictional stories of other regimes in a world’s past, without advanced technology or warp tech. Depictions of royal families. Of loving families. A mother. A father. Sometimes a brother or sister alongside the protagonist.
It was alien. Fiction truly felt like nothing more than fiction with how disconnected your experience seemed. A parent who spent plenty, willing time with their child? Siblings who didn’t get along? Who merely tolerated each other? You bickered (more one-sidedly) with Caleb quite a bit, but he was quick to concede to you in a way books typically didn’t depict. Even if the siblings were protagonists, they were never quite as close. Is this how you and Caleb should be? What people expected of you two?
The paper — old, but less strain on the eyes — makes a quiet whoosh as you turn the page. Sometimes one protagonist finds a lover. Someone who makes them enamored, an inability to stop thinking about them, their appearance, their lips. The sibling in the story would either tease akin to the way the maids stick their noses in your business, be protective, or perhaps gag and roll their eyes at the sight.
Is this right? One day you marry someone of a different empire to secure a neutral nation’s alliance, one day Caleb similarly marries an heir to some distant galaxy, and the stability of The Empire is guarantee during your livelihoods. And you’d tease each other over the other’s partner, a pair of playful siblings.
…
You place a bookmark (it contains a pressed flower from the time Caleb left one on your pillow after a nastier spat), and let out a low sigh. None of these siblings were like you and Caleb. So how could it be the same?
How could a stranger outdo the person who knows you best and you need the most? If you’re not supposed to feel these feelings, why do they claw at your chest begging for relief like they’re exactly what you should feel?
If they had a sibling like Caleb, wouldn’t their hearts be enamored too?
—
A conversation second only to your greatest memory in this greenhouse… you sit on the white bench, flowers scattered sporadically about. Caleb is typing up an essay on his holoscreen, but he made time to do it around you still. You kick your feet, bored, before deciding to bother him anyway.
“Caleb?”
“Hm?”
“There’s many things I want.”
“Mm. You gonna tell me something I don’t know?” He doesn’t even look up from his screen. The jerk.
“But sometimes I want something people tell me I shouldn’t have,” you rasp. Your voice didn’t crack. It didn’t. But Caleb looks up from his screen anyway. In a little over a year, he might be at some far off academy you can’t reach. While you stay planted here, working your way to the crown. For some reason, the idea feels emptier than it had in the past.
His gaze sticks to you. A persistent, scrutinizing thing. You should’ve shut up while you had the chance.
“And when has that ever stopped my willful little sister? You’ve asked me for quite impossible things, you know,” Caleb laughs. Like the idea is ridiculous. He dismisses the screen for a moment, just to trace your brows with his thumb. It’s only then you realized they’re raised in quiet surprise. “You’re the future empress. You’ll be able to have anything your heart desires,” he says. The thought sits disgusting in your throat — what if that thing is your future adversary, your brother, the man sitting beside you — but you say none of it.
His words paint a simple, clear picture.
When you’re the empress, who can stop you? Would anyone dare stand against an empress who loves her own brother?
You’ve been looked upon with unease or covert judgement your entire life. You wear the gaze of scorn like a second skin. Could one more sin damn you worse than the ones you already hold? The ones you were assigned from your very birth?
Your existence is labeled by death, power, and politics. If the one person to grant you peace within it is Caleb… what right do they have to tell you no? You were both born, confined to a gilded cage. Even nestmates would become attached.
“Does that mean you could have anything you wanted too?” you ask. He’ll become High Marshal, after all. Caleb has this strange look you can’t exactly place, but his hand finds your cheek, thumb on your temple.
“If I put my mind to it,” he says. It’s so casual for how grand his plans are. But you can’t recall one time Caleb didn’t make good on his word, even if it took a little longer due to some unexpected hiccups.
…Are your desires aligned? Or are they so far from each other, making them entwine in the future without chaos is impossible?
Whatever the future holds, you’ll savor your time with him a little longer.
—
When you first kiss him, his lips are slightly chapped. Just barely. Hardly noticeable compared to the warmth of his mouth, his breath, the quiet sound of surprise he lets out. You wonder if he’ll refuse, yet the greediest, grabby hands of your soul are equally as certain he won’t. Caleb said anything, didn’t he? It was bad faith to go back on his word.
You pull back, a soft exhale, and Caleb’s eyes are half-lidded, drifting from your lips back to your eyes. He’s given you these soft looks before, but this… this was new. You hope he only gives this look to you.
“Is a kiss what you need to be satisfied?” he murmurs. His fingers creep up the back of your neck and tickle. They’re large and keep you close in his orbit. You wouldn’t want to drift away anyhow.
“A few more, perhaps,” you retort. A lot more, you silently voice. His laugh dances across your skin, breath warm, and his lips find yours again. This time he’s the one kissing you, a little deeper and a little needier. Mmm. Internally you sing… perhaps your desires weren’t so far off from his after all. The warm press of his lips drowns out every thought of ‘wrong’. Of guilt. What guilt is there to feel when Caleb’s always been yours? And you, his in a way no one else could fulfill. His lips feel good… you tremble and he barely pulls back, lips ghosting yours in a quiet laugh.
“Aren’t I lucky, what you want this time is so easy for me to give you,” Caleb breathes against your lips. You laugh too, a mix of affection and bitter frustration melted into a hot, molten mix.
“Are you sure it’s not because you want it too?” you say. Maybe he senses the barest hint of insecurity in your words, because he presses another softer, more tender kiss against your lips. Then he kisses the corner of them. If he kisses you like that, you’ll just miss him more…
“Of course I do,” he whispers. A secret only for your ears. Plain and honest in his adoration. You could attach and never let go of him, hold him until the flowers wither and blossom over and over… in the sanctuary of your garden, nothing matters save for the warmth of your brother’s skin.
—
Did much change after that? Yes. No. You’re not sure some days. He’d visit home with the most dazzling gifts and fruits native to the Neezier Galaxy. He wasn’t an heir anymore, abandoned his title for his studies. But he always had clearance as her highness’s brother, whether people gazed in suspicion or not. You would talk about your days, have dinner like he never left… and at night you’d back him into your room to kiss him silly against the door until you were both noisy and breathless. And he’d gently pull away, dispelling the heat with a flurry of gentle, affectionate kisses to fan the flames, murmuring he’d make up for leaving you frustrated with another gift.
It wasn’t fair. You told him to satisfy you, yet instead he always left you craving more. Calming your rush every time. Even when you once blatantly came onto him, crawled onto his bed and pinned him, sure he wanted you just the same; he just laughed. Grabbed and kissed you until you melted into putty, then pulled you to cuddle him to sleep with nothing more.
The worst, definitely. And you have to pretend you’re not frustrated for the millionth time Caleb stopped at nothing more than his lips on yours when you attend lessons the next day.
—
Two years after your first kiss, there’s a night you’re especially impatient. The maids had introduced you to the cutest sleeping camisole with a lace trim and shorts, bottoms that cling and a top that compliments your skin perfectly. You had waited in Caleb’s room when he came to visit the Empire for a few days, draped in a way impossible to misinterpret.
When Caleb enters, his eyes go wide, breath hitching. Eyes travel from your face, downwards, before he manages to direct his gaze in the opposite direction. A wry smile spreads across his lips as he pulls off his gloves and strips himself of his outerwear.
“You get all dressed up like this for me?” he asks. Light and airy, a sharper edge hidden in those words. You huff and shoot him a little glare, even if you’re the one scarcely dressed in his space.
“No, I had hoped someone else would enter,” you grumble. Caleb’s eyes darken just barely, a challenge, and you briefly wonder if maybe this was enough to finally make him quit his little game of leaving you wanting every time he comes to visit, never giving you enough. He crawls onto his bed, arms on either side of you, and the heat of satisfaction envelops your being as you cradle his face with both hands.
“Good thing it’s my room,” he laughs. More of a guest room now, yet still reserved only for when he visits. The one he grew up in. He lets out a shaky sigh and nuzzles your neck, breath warm. His hand cradles the back of your head and he sighs, gently bringing you down to bounce against the sheets. His body covering you only makes you want him more.
“Caleb…” you murmur. You know. It’s pathetically needy. Your legs wrap around him, to hold him closer. Caleb laughs softly, lips brushing your neck.
“I know. You really can’t make this easy for me, huh?” Caleb murmurs. He nibbles on your neck and you curl up, arms clutching him. Yeah. You’re unfair and lustful and Caleb is what you want most of all right now. The crown, one day… but right now, Caleb is the one in your arms.
“If you didn’t deny me every time…” you grumble. Caleb is petting your neck soothingly. Though he has you thoroughly pinned, he lays on you more like a weighted blanket than someone who might finally satiate your need.
“Let me be a good big brother for something. At least for this,” he whispers. He pulls back to look you in the eyes. They’re dark. A blend of want, of restraint, and this complicated look that almost speaks to self-ramification. The look manages to fan your flames a little, yet make them simmer low in equal measure. Equally as complicated as the look he gives you. “I know. You’re greedy and I spoil you rotten. It’s my fault,” he accepts. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead. A fragile apology.
You blink. A feeling of uncertainty, and perhaps a tinge of guilt sits in you. You know. Of course you know. you just figured if Caleb kissed you back, he’d…
You exhale. All you can offer is a soft nod, you don’t know what you’d be able to say while keeping your dignity.
That night, you cuddle him without complaint. And decide if Caleb has the ability to wait, maybe you can too. The wait makes it all the sweeter.
—
Years. Painstaking years after you first touched lips for Caleb to finally kiss down your skin, rake up your nightgown and devour your lips until you’re whimpering so loud you think the maids outside might hear a hint of it… his moans mingle with yours and you’re sure his noises must be the sweetest of them all.
Years for Caleb to spread your thighs and hover between them. For his lips to travel up the side and pull a soft, molten laugh from him when you rasp and squeeze around his head.
You’re not sure when things changed. Maybe they never did. While some would say your brother should never be like this… Caleb between your thighs feels like all you ever wanted. And when his tongue finally touches you, you decide nothing can convince you this is wrong.
It’s slick and soft, an unfamiliar sensation that makes you grip his hair and him murmur against your slick skin. He’s warm. So warm. The sun between your thighs worshipping you with each drawn out lap of his tongue, savoring you while he moves his thumb to circle your clit, rub it real slow and make you grind up against him. You’re already so turned on, your hips twitch into any contact he gives you.
“Mmm… am I the first to taste you?” he speaks against your arousal. You yank his hair a little hard for that ridiculous question, and nearly lie just to get that smug look off his face. He grunts — a half moan, actually — and looks up at you with hungry eyes. A beast hardly satisfied. You look away, pursing your lips.
“Like any other man has the right to my bedchamber,” you grumble, and that’s all the affirmation Caleb needs to reward you by dragging your body to his lips, holding you as his tongue laps like it’s his last supper. He pauses to fuck his tongue inside and make you curl up, then focus his suction on your clit, a probing tongue and a consistent suction that gets you squirming the more he continues. He almost looks reluctant to use his fingers, like he wants to devour every inch of you simultaneously with his tongue alone, but he drags up his hand anyway to trace your entrance, wet with arousal that drips onto the bed more and more… ah… it will be a bit embarrassing having the maids clean the sheets. Maybe you should bundle them up first…. And he slips a finger in nice and smooth.
Attentive as ever, Caleb was. He moans sinfully against your folds and swirls his tongue experimentally, languid, then focused, paying attention to what draws the best gasp out of you. He decides on this persistent, gentle but building rhythm where you can’t tell where your pleasure in receiving ends and his pleasure in giving begins. He savors you like a gift, grateful for the whine pulled from you when he inserts two fingers. Pumping in and out methodically, curling appropriately to find the most sensitive spots deep inside. Spots you’d only sometimes reach thinking about his fingers inside you instead… Curled up on your side, lonely nights while he was nose deep in his studies across galaxies, and you were knuckles deep in your cunt moaning his name into your pillow.
Dammit… these high noises keep leaving your mouth even as you try to bite them back and you’re trembling, the wet sounds of his fingers and tongue filling the room and fueling your mild embarrassment. Why was he so good… the sight is enough to drag in closer and trap him with your thighs (not that he looks like he wants to escape). You’d certainly never forgive him if he’d been practicing… but you’re arching up and can’t quiet down, so whatever Caleb learned, he’s doing it right.
“Mm.. this view is only mine, right? The future empress whining on my tongue…” he murmurs, kissing the bud of your clit like an apology for pausing to speak.
You could say the opposite — the future High Marshal moaning like his enemy is the best meal he’ll ever taste, but he gets right back to putting all his focus on you before you can retort, so you only squeak out some embarrassing noise instead, fluttering around his fingers. Ah… he… if he keeps…
“Caleb…” you whimper, turning your head to the side as your body jerks into his touch, instinctively squirming a little away, but Caleb grips your hip with his free hand. You don’t know if his encouraging moans do it more, or the agonizing build up of his lips and fingers that stack and stack until it bubbles over. You go tense, fluttering and twitching as you spill onto his fingers. Hard to breathe, your heart is pounding… And Caleb lets out a groan of satisfaction. His fingers keep pumping, mouth remaining latched on to prolong the arch of your back.
When you come down, he must be in some kind of trance. He just keeps pleasuring, won’t stop even when you’re whining loud and pushing at his head, complaining how sensitive you are. This… this wasn’t… ugh, Caleb was the worst even when he does give you what you want! You whimper and struggle against his persistent fingers and tongue that he’s decided to personally torture you with. When his mouth pulls off, the rub of his fingers replace them, a different kind of torturous stimulation as his arms pin your thighs down with his weight.
“I was so patient. Let me be a little selfish too,” he laughs against your stomach like he isn’t stimulating you to the point of overwhelm! You’d kick him if you could, instead you’re jerking and oversensitive and squirming in place.
“I was more patient you useless—“ you whimper, feeling yourself curl up. What was overwhelm starts to feel a weird blend of oversensitive pleasure that feels better… but almost too much.
“Mmm. Look at you. You’re the cutest.” He thrusts his fingers harder, mean. “No matter how hardened of an empress you become…” his mouth kisses back down between your legs, letting his breath fan over you. “In these moments, you’ll always be mine. My adorable, sweet baby sister,” and his mouth latches on to you, as though to prove his point. An effective, non-stop onslaught of pleasure that ends in you crying out and squirming as you arch, making a damn mess of the bed and Caleb’s mouth. He soothingly laps you even as you twitch and look totally spent. You use the bit of your strength to glare.
“Messy girl,” he murmurs as he finally pulls away, a trail of your arousal following him. He bears this dark, satisfied look while he wears your arousal on his face and fingers like a badge of honor.
Yeah. The absolute worst brother ever.
He moves up to kiss the corner of your lips (he gets a glare for that, he’s wet with you), murmuring that you have all the time tomorrow to melt into each other. Mmm. You’ll get your equal payback tomorrow. You wonder briefly about him, but a clear wet spot settles against your bare thighs as he cuddles up next to you. Seems his moans against your skin we’re for his own pleasure too…
Cradled in his arms, finally able to have him the way you’ve wanted (he might’ve still left you wanting. But at least he’ll satisfy that want before he departs this time…) it brings a serenity you weren’t sure was even possible before achieving the crown. Maybe your wants were more embedded into Caleb than you were willing to admit.
Even if your moments are stolen and scarce with how often he’s busy with The Federation. When he visits and sneaks you kisses, gifts, and now his touch; you’re reminded that even as he chases his own goals, even if you walk separate paths destined to meet in strife…
You lean over and peck the corner of his lips. They curl into an indulgent smile.
Caleb’s yours. He always has been.
I heavily debated posting to my main but figured ah what the hell, I unabashedly love Caleb anyway. What’s one more fic. Sue me.
I in fact did have to inhale and exhale when I did the math and their first kiss was about the same time as yearly nostalgia LMAO. Infold, you test me every day.
18+ Love and Deepspace Server, chill, queer friendly, and very vibes :3
Um if you enjoyed, comments and reblogs are mega appreciated!! :D
Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed [18+ Caleb x Gender Neutral!reader/MC]
Summary:
Everyone sees utter perfection from Caleb. The kind of guy you could bring home to your parents, loved and adored by all. The charmer that gets along with everyone — flawless in every sense of the word.
Only you know just how mean he can be.
Tags: overstimulation, begging, crying, ambiguous genitalia!reader/mc, penetration, mean teasing, aftercare Word count: 906 Ao3 Author’s Notes: I wrote this in like an hour I really need Caleb for some reason lol
Masterlist
Prequel - Overboard
You remember introducing Caleb to your work friends, the way Tara lit up and asked a billion questions about your relationship — your past — about how you were a picky child, and Caleb made it his goal to find the things you liked best and make them better than anyone else could. Even strangers could see the way he doted on you. Small gifts, his subtle gestures of affection, the way he lights up anytime he talks about you as though you’re his entire world.
People even chastise you sometimes — wonder how you got the most perfect boyfriend when you reject half of his affections and scoff when he does a sweet gesture. Yeah, you’re demanding and picky if he gets the wrong snack item. And yeah, you tell him to get you the best or to get you nothing at all. And you glare and swat his hand half the time when he pats you.
No one knows Caleb like you do — they see the Caleb he shows off to the world. The dependable doting boyfriend. The man that spoils you rotten and practically worships you, the man who knows every little thing about your likes and interests and will never slack on getting you the best of the best.
What they don’t know is that Caleb is the biggest bully in bed.
It’s almost infuriating, how everyone thinks he’s this perfect sweet saint and probably the kindest in bed too. No, Caleb is mean. For all the sweet things he did growing up and now — behind that is an insatiable man who revels in your tears.
He loves to pleasure you senseless — he’s got a thing for kissing every part of you, for lavishing your entire body. He could spend an entire night neglecting himself just to spread your thighs and make you come apart from his mouth and hands. He’ll spend an eternity sucking at your chest until your nipples are puffy and swollen, stroking your trembling thighs and lavishing you with his mouth until you’re trembling and begging for reprieve. He’ll make you come over and over and over until you’re an oversensitive mess — and the only thing that stops him is a genuine plea for mercy or you on the cusp of blacking out.
Fucking you is even worse. He’s the sort to spread your legs and hold you in positions that make you take every thick inch or kiss away your tears in missionary as you babble from his cock. He’ll watch you tremble, quiver, tear up from the overwhelming pleasure and call you adorable as you’re squirming, begging. He’ll hold you close and sing the softest praises on how well you take him, how cute you look squirming from his cock, how every little thing about you is perfect and you’re a bonafide fucked out mess. He’ll hold you on his lap and make you ride him, laugh as you quiver and chew your lip from the utter embarrassment. He likes embarrassing you — the asshole, watching you almost tear up from frustration as you try to ride him but you’re so sensitive you can barely lift yourself. And he’ll help you, hold your hips as he fucks up into you over and over, kissing at your collar bone, telling you how perfect you are as you groan and cling to him for dear life.
He loves tears too — is another thing you learned. You can’t remember the last time he didn’t fuck you to the point of sobbing, him kissing away salty streaks and whispering sweet praises as he makes you take his cock again and again until you physically can’t. If you were crying because of pain or emotional hurt? He’d turn the world over to find the cause, hunting down whoever or whatever hurt you. He’d comfort you and hold you as long as you needed. But when the tears are because of him and how overwhelmed he makes you feel? He makes it his goal to fuck them out of you.
It’s not one or two times either — it’s almost every night he’ll leave you spent, sobbing, and sleep-deprived with cum leaking from you. And the next morning he’ll look perfectly unbothered, busy in the kitchen and flashing you the sweetest smile as you stumble with shaky legs over to the counter. You glare and curse at him, but he just laughs and gives you your favorite breakfast, kisses your cheek before plating his own food.
You learned quickly Caleb was both your biggest lover and biggest bully. He adored every thing about you, from seeing you happy and making you feel adored and loved to seeing you a mess from his fingers, mouth, cock, using toys on you. He never made you feel unloved, he spoiled you rotten in the day and cuddled and cleaned you sweetly after wrecking you at night.
He desires every aspect of you an unhealthy amount, from your love to your feigned hatred at his constant bullying. And when he makes a small joke — a little innuendo only you understand in front of strangers and you smack him — he merely laughs, unknowing audience none the wiser.
Everyone sees utter perfection from him. The kind of man you could bring home to your parents, loved and adored by all. The charmer that gets along with everyone — flawless in every sense of the word.
Only you know just how mean he can be.
btw check out Linkon Lounge, an 18+ Lads Themed Otome Discord Server! We rave about the boys a ton, and chill! Super inclusive and lgbtq+ friendly!
Dark Caleb is such a fascinating concept to me as someone who tends to prefer canon personality iteration above all else.
Canon things we do know is his morals are obviously not dependent on what is socially acceptable, but rather, whatever the hell he and MC want. Case in point, he has no qualms kissing MC (15/18) in Imperial Thronesong. He and MC with an established push and pull fighting dynamic, ergo him forcefully kissing an angry MC biting his lip. Oh. And blood siblings. But we knew that.
Because sometimes dark premises feel so close yet just slightly off to me. And it’s a teeter between ‘there is a world this could happen’ and ‘Caleb simply would never because he cares about MC above all else’.
Which yes, canon wise is true. He has lines like “No one is allowed to hurt you — not even me.” And as forceful as he is in main-story, it’s always under the guise of protection. He will hold you down with gravity to clean you wounds. He will pin you down to tell you how he wants to protect you and hide you away safely forever.
Anyway for a dark Caleb as adjacent to canon as possible, you basically have to adjust one thing. Which is: He puts his desires above your own. Yet it can be hard because his entire character IS putting you first. It’s a fundamental clash of who he is, but it’s so close it can be very possible.
And you can have his exact same flavor of canon otherwise. He snaps in bed. Apologizes every second. Soothes. Murmurs how he knows but doesn’t stop. The guilt eats him alive. And after, he takes care of you as always. Warm bath. Breakfast. Apologies. Loves you fiercely. And you can extend this to anything you’d like in scenarios, locking one up, yandere, far more. Because these desires already exist in him. I personally imagine it as guilt combined with how he loves every part of you so much — even when you cry. I have this opinion anyway for canon Caleb but in a pleasure context — dark Caleb would just apply to any hurt he causes too. It’s also worth nothing some of the ‘darkest’ themes you can explore for Caleb, canon Caleb would fold for and do under one condition… MC initiates.
I struggle with dark Caleb because in theory I really do like his concept. And I understand why he’s the one utilized, he is prime material for it. Yet it requires flipping a core part of him, which can be hard to read as ‘him’. I think what it takes for me personally is I need to see his love is genuine and he cares about your needs too — not just what he decides you need. It can’t be “I know you need me to feel better” but rather “I know I’m being selfish and I’m so sorry, I just can’t stop. Just let me be selfish a little more. And I’ll take such good care of you after, you can hit and scratch me all you want. I’ll never stop taking care of you.”
This is to say of course, he can be written gratuitously and not ‘in character’ as it is the point! I just wanted to ramble my thoughts as someone who is like hella canon stickler but still likes the concept, when usually I don’t care for these concepts when it feels ooc for any character.