Caleb: “I missed you, gege missed you so much, I-”
🕊️🪦🔞 || cw: public sex, dub con, pseudocest
*inspired by this fanart
Caleb hadn't seen you for weeks. It was always a mess of schedules colliding, plans cancelled last minute, issues arising during moments neither could control. In a way, it added up.
By the end of your free day, he couldn't hold himself back.
On the train ride home, it was a packed situation. Peak hours meant people leaving work, school, a rush that cannot be easily handled. Maybe it would've been better had you both waited it out; an excuse to stay together just a little longer.
Or maybe, it was the right choice…? To be pushed into a situation where you both had to press against each other, surrounded by crowds that were too tired to take note of their surroundings. They were commuters who couldn't care less about anything other than their own wellbeing, scrolling on their phones plainly. They didn't mind the screech of the train wheels on the tracks. They didn't mind the crawl of your brother's hand over your abdomen, pulling you to him.
You were met with his broad chest against your back, the pounding of your heart felt across your body. What if he felt it too? Your skirt somehow rode up your thighs. A gravitational pull to let the humid warmth touch upon your core, wetness seeping through thin fabric.
It didn't come from you.
With a stuttered gasp, you peered down, body freezing in place. The weight of something hot pressing, hard.
"Caleb," you mumbled, swallowing thickly. "Not here."
His response was his hand choosing to hold onto your waist next, manoeuvring you far too easily. The strength of gravity was too heavy. You couldn't move against him in objection even if you wanted to.
"Ge-"
"I can't wait."
His fingers slid down, pulling your panties to the side. Your folds glistened in the mess of his pre-come. The drag of his cock pulled a wet form of chaos from you too.
"It's been too long." Caleb softly admitted, whispering shivers down your spine. "This whole day, not enough."
When he began guiding you back and forth on his length—small motions, hardly noticeable, making you grind on him until you did it voluntarily, hiding no bits of your laboured breaths—there was no mistake of the kisses he snuck down your neck next. Some faint, some harsher. Your moan fell out, choked.
Caleb became more bold. He felt your warm skin underneath your skin, ghosting over where your hardened nipples were tucked under your bra. You pulled a hand up to your mouth in hopes of keeping yourself quiet, but he held no intentions to let that happen.
"Don't keep it from me." He uttered into your neck, sucking a mark in. "Aren't you a good little sister for me?"
His gravity again. Your hand was pulled and kept down, leading you vulnerable and exposed. Gasps poured out in between where your teeth didn't clamp down on your lip.
"Someone's gonna see us…!" you panicked, shuddering wholly with a tremble when the friction touched you too perfectly. "Gege, please, I don't want to-"
"Let them see." Caleb interrupted you, grinding against you with much more force. Made you whine beyond your wants, sobbing.
"Don't you want this too? No use lying to your brother." He continued, teasing the head of his cock against your entrance. "Why should I hold myself back when I can just fuck you right here?"
He waited for no answer, already pushing himself in; drinking your cry in his mouth. It was a nearly unbearable sting. How long had it been since you last had him? Had it been to the point you nearly forgot what he felt like?
Your brother stretched you out enough to make you remember again. He was a heavy presence buried inside your cunt, dominant with pressure. He thrusted once, burying the rest of himself inside.
"Hah—" You crumbled, only kept up because of his persistent gravity. Your knees buckled. Tears fell as you had to accommodate him. And despite this, he was going to keep using you anyways. Making you take him as he wanted.
You had nothing to hold onto except his arms around your waist, nearly lifting you to the tip of your toes. Somehow everyone surrounding you had their backs facing you, unaware of what was happening. Of what he was doing to you.
Caleb breathed down your nape, heated.
"I missed you," he whispered, words melting into your skin. It was a brief moment where you felt the insistence of where he was coming from; a man that hadn't been allowed to see who he was living for until now.
Some, if not all of your reluctance, had faded away by that point.
He slipped in and out of you too easily. Every thrust was pointed, touching upon spots he still knew. It was too easy to lose yourself in him. He made it too simple. Your body never once held any sort of resistance against him anyway.
Caleb understood you in ways you failed to do the same.
He fucked you until there was no hope in keeping it quiet anymore. Heavy whines, whimpers that were too high, moans fell out together with the rhythm he pushed, quickening once he realised you needed it. He became harsher, controlling. You tightened around him too.
"I missed you, gege missed you so much, I- ah, fuck."
His words dragged with each end. Warmth spilled before you could even register it all. You were filled with the extent of his need, little droplets escaping as reminders of where you were. On the train, back home, too many stops gone by to remember whether you had missed your own station or not.
You felt too aware. Sweat that pooled on your forehead, a heat across your cheeks that left your mind hazed. Caleb slid out too quickly and snapped your panties back in its placement too perfectly, leaving a tingle over where he just breached you seconds before.
When he spun you around, it was to hide you into his being. Keeping you away from the world, almost, as he knew you were in a state that couldn't be comprehended by anyone else.
His arms wrapped around you tight, holding you throughout the rest of the ride.
Then his lips were felt faintly against the crown of your head, followed by an unmistakable smile, proud of what he had just done. Rendering you into a little mess that needed to depend on him; it was always his favourite activity to do.
"Gege…" you mumbled helplessly, voice muffled against his chest, where your face pressed against. He was warm. So warm.
"Hm?"
"Don't do this again, please."
"Mhm…okay. If that's what my little sister wants."
You had not even a flick of hope in believing he meant it, really.
Your father, the Colonel, had only 15 minutes with you before he had to attend an important meeting.
"Papa—! S-slow down, please..."
His hands held your hips tightly, keeping you in place even as your legs trembled.
Caleb had many things to say when he saw you present at his office in the middle of the day. But all of those words were immediately kept aside for another day; a day where he was off-duty, able to cover each of them in a more proper manner.
Today, he had something else instead.
His first steps were done silently, a reverb in the vacant room that travelled through your body and triggered a rising heartbeat. He seemed unsuspecting enough. Someone whose motives were unclear.
By the second you were within his reach, he pulled your wrist, glare in his eyes.
His lips went harsh against yours. A force that had you stumbling backwards, a clumsy trip which connected you to the edge of his desk, wincing. It was power you could not fight against, an authority you were rendered helpless to.
You lacked air while he breathed heavily, head in his hand that he could crush easily. He was persistent in angling you just right, drinking up your whimpers as sweet as they sounded coming from your throat.
Caleb held his moments where he was no better than a jungle creature. This was one of them.
No words, no directions. Just him, pushing you around to his own wishes, making you face the desk and let the thick outline of his cock already begin to find its way along the curve of your ass.
"I only have 15 minutes," his voice came in as a whisper, coiling tight over your lack of thought. "Be good."
Your legs were forced apart, his grip on your thigh becoming present. The inner side was being felt with rough leather brushing your heated skin, dragging closer to your core; to where you were already burning heedlessly, pulsing at the prospect of his nearing touch.
"Papa..."
"You still remember how much I love you wearing like this," a statement, definitive as his fingers ran under your skirt, "what a clever girl."
Papa took his time despite the lack of it. He ghosted over the soaked spot on your panties, holding you when you instinctively squirmed. The second he pushed the soiled fabric to the side, it was the same second he traced over your entrance, finding it already prepped open.
His voice fell. "You played with yourself before I got here, hm?"
There was the click of a buckle. The low drag of a zipper which filled the air. Your heart leaped to your throat, palms sweaty against the flat of his desk as you held your own breath without realising.
Quietly, you tried to fill the silence with a weak answer. "I got impatient waiting for you...you know how I am. I just wanted to make myself perfect for you."
Caleb muttered a curse under his breath. Before long, you were dragged backwards by a vice grip on your hips, meeting the prodding of his tip against your eager hole.
"You're already in a lot of trouble, now you wanna push your luck a little more with that mouth?"
Then the head of his cock pressed past the initial resistance, slipping in with ease right after that. No warning given whatsoever, forcing you to choke up on your own gasp.
"Big...so much, papa..."
"Shh, just take it."
When he managed to fit in the rest of his length inside, he was left grunting against your ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth as he slammed himself harsh against the starting of your cervix.
Your legs were losing stability in an instant, your body nearly falling over itself. Caleb kept you up by the grip on your hips, and fucked you with an urgency carried over every thrust. His pace was hurried, a running chase against the clock as time grew shorter.
It was too much for you to keep up with, so you squeaked and wailed. "H-hn— too fast, papa! W-wait, plea- hah..."
"We have to make it quick, little one."
Papa pounded into you without thought, and you were losing your mind just as much. Your legs gave in completely, knees pressing together awkwardly as you sunk lower and lower, unable to keep up with how ruthlessly he used you.
"Ah, so fucking right for me," he kissed your nape, grinned before taking a bite, tasting salt; the closest he could get into your flesh. "I should have you here more often. To hold me back from shooting more people dead."
You clenched tighter on him without realising, and he felt all of it happen. A low groan, closer to a growl slipped out as a result, his hips snapping while he held you tighter—red prints marking your skin.
"You like being my little stress toy? Huh?" His palm fell with a slap on your ass, leaving a sting that caused the first dripping of your arousal to fall onto the ground. "Say it."
"I-I do. I like being papa's doll...I like it so much, hm-"
Your cries echoed together with moist skin, filling the office quickly with intimate heat. You went high off of it, craving papa's thrusts more and more as your climax dragged closer, edging with every slam of his cock burying itself inside you and shaping you as his.
"Pretty girl, you can feel all of me right?" Caleb whispered, murmuring along your neck. "Come on, cum for me. We don't have much time left. Papa has to leave soon."
You shook your head. "No! Don't leave me papa...play with me."
"Papa's always gonna play with you little girl," he mumbled, turning your head to face him as he fed you more kisses. "I'll play with you more after this, okay? Be a good girl now."
A couple more fuckings to finally unravel you whole; you came with a shudder, pools of slick on the ground beneath you, evidence written as fluid drops down your thighs. Papa kept thrusting to coax out the rest of your release, shallow to ease you into the vulnerable state before he went fast again, catching you off guard and squealing.
"Wait, papa— I'm really sensitive!"
"No, no. Papa's gotta cum too. I've gotta fill you up, alright?" His voice became gruff, violent. No other thought in his head, other than innate need, " 'm gonna breed you full. You'd like that so much. Won't you? Being full of papa's seed."
You couldn't help but clench again. "Give it to me, papa."
And of course he did. He spilled helplessly inside you, warming you whole with his release. Droplets threatened to escape, but his gloves hands swiped and stuffed them back in with ease. Your pussy sucked him dry, drinking up every last bit until there was none left.
Caleb heaved, nuzzling against the top of your head for a brief moment of reprieve. A second to recover before he had to reopen his eyes, pulling away reluctantly.
"Time's up, little one."
Despite the sore between your legs, you sniffled as you looked over your shoulder. "Already?"
Of course, with a face like that, even the Colonel would feel his heart drop down to his stomach.
He pressed a faint kiss against your pouring lips, cleaning you up as well as he could before readjusting his uniform.
Uh…farmerleb who works up a sweat gathering all the produce to sell and coming back to see you lounging lazily like a house cat, then comes up to you with a basket of sweet potatoes he needs you to wash except you see there's a weirdly shaped one mixed in…?
You poke at it lazily, seeing it twitch to life, causing a giggle you barely suppress. "If you wanted to stay longer in bed this morning, you should've just said so. What's with the foreplay?"
Caleb wears a grin, using one end of his opened flannel to wipe off a drop of sweat.
He sets down the basket before your feet, leaving his cock hanging in the air, tip already nudging at your parted lips. Suggesting you to do something about it.
"Well, let's just sat I wanted you a lil' more awake to help me here."
Your lashes flutter, looking at the erection. "Using me as free labour to clean your things, how uncouth."
Your tongue darts out to lick once at the bead of pre-come, letting the taste of your brother dilute and spread in your mouth.
Caleb's gaze falls, purple growing deeper in colour, head tilted to the side. "Princess."
"Hm?"
"Don't play with your food."
Looking up through your lashes, you blink. Acting coquettish because you know that's how he likes you.
"Is gege mad at me?" You pout, wrapping both your hands around his length. Stroking him slowly, biting your tongue, seeing his chest rise. "I'm sorry gege," a faux apology, exposed in the sounds of your laugh. "I'll make it up to you now, okay?"
Then you swallow the head of his cock into your mouth, catching him as he stutters. Swirling your tongue around the tip and flicking at the slit, making him curse shakily.
"Fuck," Caleb throws his head back. His hand finds the back of your head, urging you to take in more of him; an inch that slips into your warm mouth, accommodating him so well. "You know how to take me so well, don't you baby?"
"Mhmf—"
The most you can manage is muffled noise. Whimpers, hindered by his pulsing length—greedily taking up more space until you're left gagging when he hits the back of your throat. Tears well up in your eyes, sucking him until spittle comes drooling down your mouth, making a mess.
Caleb thrusts into your mouth abruptly, catching you off guard. you pat on his thigh repeatedly, pleading to breathe, but he doesn't let you.
"Good girl," he whispers, gripping your hair, fucking into your mouth relentlessly, carelessly as he uses you to his wants. Your nose digs into the mess of hair, taking in the musk of his scent, his sweat—your eyes roll back.
Then with no warning whatsoever, Caleb's hips hit a stutter in its pace. He groans, loud, and a hot abundance of something shoots right down your throat, forcing you to swallow it.
Caleb holds you in place, not letting you go until you really have taken in all he offers.
He pulls out of your mouth with a string of saliva left connected, your voice coming out hoarse as you gasp for air and cling to the denim of his loose pants. "G-ge—"
Caleb smooths down the flyaways of your hair, oddly affectionate. "What's that, baby? use your words."
Bastard. He knows you can't. He's ruined your voice into an inaudible rasp.
Caleb chuckles, offering you pity by picking you up and into his arms, taking over your place and slipping his hand right over your bare pussy.
"You want me to help you now? Where? Here?"
He drives harsh circles over your clit, making you convulse, clinging onto his shoulders, eyes shut and mouth left open in weak silence.
Caleb's eyes take on a menacing glint, taking a kiss from you that sends you pliant in return, bucking into his touch.
Tou don't need to say anything when he already understands what you need. And on a farm where no other human exists other than you both…the only witnesses to your daily activities are really just the animals who are just like you.
Someone who can't talk. Someone who can't scream.
Someone who can't call for help.
He has you all for himself now. The perfect reward to use after hard work.
Caleb: “Thank you for letting me take care of you.”
🔞 || cw: daddaughter
Sighs. Life is stressful nowadays. You know who would agree with that statement too?
Papaleb.
He comes home, pulling his tie loose, hand raking through his hair, taking a deep breath as he sees you awake when it's past bed time.
Must you still disobey him, even at this time?
Caleb walks over, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, pulling the blanket off your head and staring down at you scrambling to hide the phone underneath your pillow, quickly shutting your eyes close. Acting as if he hadn't already caught you.
"You never listen to me." He states. His touch feels cooler than the brisk wind leaking in from the window left unshut, a shudder through your lips when he pushes hair behind your ear, trailing along your jaw.
Your eyes squeeze tight, hands balled into fists. A little bit of fright, curiosity, and anticipation all bubble loudly in your chest.
Caleb's fingers end up hooked at your chin. Tilting your head up, feeling the faint presence of him become more prominent, then his warm lips touch yours.
It does not end with just a peck like you had thought. And you were never good at pretending.
Your eyes snap open wide, pushing at his shoulders when he begins to pursue deeper into your mouth, going against your protests.
"Mfm- papa—!"
Wailing, gasping for air in the little escape he had given you. He kisses harshly as if to punish you by making you bear the brunt of his frustration, heavy and domineering. His tongue pulses, pushing through your defenses, licking up your whimpers.
Your hands curl outwards, fingers flexing before planting over his nape, a quiet sign of giving in. Because in the end, it's papa. In the silence, it's papa. Even at the dark of night, it's still papa. And papa remembers to pull away in order to finally let you breathe, leaning his forehead against yours.
The weight of his gaze lands on you, and you bear it wholly. Letting him sneak past layers and slither over your pounding heart.
"You should've went to sleep two hours ago," he comments, reprimanding ever softly. "My baby needs to get enough hours if she wants to grow up well, hm?"
You shift underneath him, heat coming up to your cheeks. "But you weren't home yet...I wanted to wait until you came back."
"I already told you. Don't wait for me."
"But I want to. I need to wait." A pause, followed by a thick swallow. "What if papa forgets to come home?"
He pinches your cheek, smiling at the sound of your surprise. "Silly girl."
A pout forms on your lips, brows knitting. "Papa!"
Instead, you receive a laugh, feeling him roll over to your side and scoop you up into his arms. Pulling you close to his chest, hearing his heart and smelling the leftover cologne that had still stuck since morning.
"When I have an impatient little girl waiting for me everyday, how could I ever forget to come home?"
He remembers you, clearly, in every part of his mind. At every hour of the day. During every occasion on the fleet. Being the colonel means having to wait for the hours to go by until he can finally come home to take in his needed refuge.
Yes, life is stressful in ways Caleb doesn't want to acknowledge. But it becomes manageable when he's reminded he has a kid to take care of. The same kid being you, snuggling against him more, yawning as he pecks the top of your head.
"Go to sleep, little one."
"Mhm..." You nod. You cling onto him more, nipping at his chin and catching the feel of stubble against the tip of your tongue. "I want more kisses."
Caleb hums quizzically. "Sleep talking already?"
He's messing with you again. You know it, and it won't stop you from kicking up a fuss in the middle of the night. You pretend to sniff, willing up the urge to cry as your bottom lip protrudes, looking at him sadly.
"Papa, don't you love me?"
Caleb pauses, breathing cut short.
He dips to find the pulse behind your ear between his lips, sucking lightly to hear a sigh.
And he doesn't stop.
Hands going underneath your shirt, finding your bare skin, touching up your hips to your waist; the underside of your breasts; ghosting over pebbled nipples that already cause you to arch your back into him. His kisses lay frantic down your neck, your clavicle getting caught in the midst of it, hickeys turning into love bites filled with teeth.
Caleb doesn't say another word against your babbling mouth. Only works on pulling one of your legs over his hip so he can drag you closer, shortening the distance and pressing your bodies together.
You feel what he was attempting to hide in the beginning. In his pants—hot, firm, pulsing with desire he's hardly kept contained these days. Aimlessly, you shift to grind your hips against him. And mixed gasps spill as a result.
"Papa, feels good-"
"I know."
He controls little of himself when his hands are placed onto your hips, guiding you to match the pace he needs to feel you with. The pressure of your bodies almost joined but not, left to deal with several layers betraying you helplessly in between.
Fabric clings to your folds.
The restraints on Caleb are close to insanity in terms of punishing. But it's hopelessly addicting. He surges up to your lips again, swallowing your pretty cries and moans as he humps against you unabashedly. Needy in his own terms. Pressing his cock against your clothed clit, feeling your twitching hole. A tease.
He groans, curses flying off his tongue, helps himself to you even more until he ends up spilling in his briefs.
The warmth of his spend—fluids that could've gone undone inside you instead—leaves enough to make you tremble and convulse, too. Triggering a small orgasm that fills your veins with tempting bliss. Intoxicating chase. And a bit of something sweeter by the end of it, wrapping itself around the both of you getting tangled and inseparable.
Caleb holds the back of your head, lips brushing against yours. "Tell me again, baby. Who loves you the most?"
You answer without thinking. "You."
"Mhm. Who takes care of you the best?"
"Also you."
"Then who am I?"
"Papa."
"And you are?"
"Papa's baby."
"That's my girl."
He kisses you slowly this time, mindful of how easily your head knocks back by the slightest push now. You're weightless, floating, giddy as you suck on papa's thumb slipping in between your used lips.
Caleb hugs you firmly, keeping you in place. You're only ever meant to be beside him, after all.
"Is my girl getting sleepy now?"
You nod.
"Sweet dreams, then."
"Good night, papa...I lov...e..."
You doze off, the phrase left unfinished in your mouth.
But you know him. Papa is the smartest. He already gets the idea. In an endless pit, you're the only one he hangs onto.
Caleb: “My dearest sister has all these interesting little fantasies that she writes about, and they all include me.”
🪦🕊️🔞 || cw: dead dove, taboo themes
You, a famous erotica author under a pseudonym, writing the most filthy novels in the demanding book scene, receiving so much praise for how realistic the male leads always tend to be—of course they are. They're based on your brother, who's very real to you.
Your stories never bordered on the line of taboo. They were taboo. An obsessive stalker raping his victims, a kidnapper manipulating his trapped prey into loving her, a stepfather who always touches his little girl in her sleep.
And the latest one—a brother so in love with his blood related sister that he would go as far as to keep her in the attic, tampering with her freedom under the guise of keeping her safe—was just pushing your luck too much.
So coming back to see Caleb in your study, sitting on your swivel chair and his feet propped on the desk, flipping through your manuscript, was the result of your bold step.
Your blood runs cold in an instant, sweat building on your forehead. "What are you doing here?"
Caleb lifts his head, but his eyes don't leave the page. Not even once to see you. He knows you're failing to not react.
"I just wanted to congratulate my baby sister on her achievements," he answers coolly, unbothered, acting oblivious to the tension in your shoulders. "she is, after all, very talented with her words."
His eyes narrow along certain lines in the manuscript. A smile breaks. Unwritten intentions display themselves clearly on that expression, and it takes all within you to not—
Not what? What can you possibly do when it comes to facing your brother?
"I don't appreciate you snooping around and reading my unpublished work," you state, firm as you can, trying to not let any tremble overtake your voice. "You didn't even tell me in advance you were gonna visit."
"Because it was meant to be a surprise, pips."
He finally looks at you. Capturing you in a nebulae storm. You're really just such easy prey, kept stuck by one glance. You also refuse to admit that, so you spit out through gritted teeth in your best attempt to resist.
"Since when do you care about my writing?"
"When have I not?"
"Don't give me that, ge." A harsh laugh spills between your lips, red from getting nervously bitten on too much. "You never asked me about what I was doing, spending all my time filling up blank pages on my laptop with paragraphs and dialogues. You always weren't interested, so you'd rather go out and have fun instead of staying with me."
"And that gives you an excuse to write about me?"
Your senses flare up, alarmed. "Who said anything about—!"
"Don't lie to me."
Caleb abruptly stands up, walking with heavy steps that echo the same way your heart pounds. The manuscript still remains in his grasp, his thumb digging a dent into the paper pile.
"I tried, baby."
The sweet name effortlessly makes your breath hitch. It shouldn't have the power to affect you so profoundly like that. But it did. You let him do that to you.
"I really tried, you know, to give you the benefit of the doubt. That maybe I was just making things up because I," he pauses, licking his bottom lip, "I missed you. So much until I believed that you were still thinking about me, even when I felt it wasn't true."
"But now— I understand that I was right, anyway," he ends with a smile, chills down your spine, approaching you even more closely.
You stumble to take your steps back, meeting the hard wall. An urge to flee writes itself all over your frantic thoughts, shown on your face, plain as day.
Caleb sees it all and chuckles. A weird pleasure overtakes him, thriving in your fear.
"My dearest sister has all these interesting little fantasies that she writes about, and they all include me."
He's close enough to breathe against your quivering lips.
"Scared?"
He steps one foot in between yours, pushing your legs apart. His knee stands imperceptibly close to your core, aching in betrayal.
"Caleb," you breathed, trying to not crumble, "we can stop this now."
"I know you don't want that."
You almost curse out loud. All these years and he still knows how to be so right about you in the aspects you never touched.
"Why are you so forward, gege? Please do it slowly."
He towers you easily, just as you had dreamed of when writing it down.
"I don't think you're the type to like it slow," Caleb murmurs, lips finding your ear, hot breath leaving your hairs to rise. "You love to describe me as a monster. Someone who kidnaps, abuses, rapes pretty girls. Pretty girls like you."
A whimper spills without thinking. You cower, head hanging low while Caleb continues to tease you. His hand splays wide over your stomach, nearing your womb.
"You want me to breed you too, right? Want me to pick you up and use you like a sex toy?"
"Gege..."
"You're my little sister. You were born to take your big brother's cock like a good girl."
A shaky gasp answers him back.
He's reciting lines from your manuscript. Out loud.
You can't believe your ears. Nor can you believe yourself when you end up clenching nothing.
Caleb wears a menacing smile, cupping your cheek so softly it feels dangerous. His eyes take on a glint with something maniacal.
And then, "you have ten seconds to run away before I catch you."
The countdown.
You spin on your heels before you hear him again, slipping through the door and down the hallway. The house you both grew up in was always familiar to you, but none of that nostalgia remains now.
Every corner feels like danger inviting you in. The dawning distance between you and him started strong, but now gradually dwindles as you barely can keep yourself going on your sprint. Which hall should you run down in this labyrinth? Which direction should you turn to? Which room could you hide in from the monster that's keeping you on your toes and your legs shaking to give in?
You open a random door at the last second, stumbling into your old childhood room. Your heart stops, realising where your feet have taken you to. There are still stubborn lines of your wiggly drawings on the walls, a fragment of the past kept still this entire time until you've broken it.
And there's no going back to preserving it any more now.
The moment the door closes and the lock clicks behind you, a dread sparked with anticipation builds deep in your stomach.
"Time's up, little mouse."
You should pick a fight. Resist a little, showing your despair when he inevitably forces you down. But you can't.
The stalker was described to have a physique just like Caleb's. The kidnapper had eyes as dark as his. The stepfather owner a voice as condescending and faux sweet as your brother. And the brother—he was all of them.
He was Caleb, cursed with a different name.
Caleb, who has his arms wrapped around you from the back, pressing his hard cock against your ass, making you feel what he's about to put you through.
You feebly cry. "No..."
"Aw, don't struggle. You'll be saying yes later."
In the end, he's trapped you like you had written.
Caleb: “How bad are your cramps? Don't lie to me.”
🔞 || cw: daddaughter, period sex
Being papaleb's beloved little one meant that he was only ever the most attentive to you; especially when it came to certain fussy things. Things like the school bell ringing a minute late, the ice cream bucket taking extra effort to open, and...whatever occurred on your period.
Years of raising you meant the telltale signs that you were on your monthly cycle were just things he naturally had a feeling for. He knew that when you started to drift off in the middle of the day more often, it was to accommodate the mood swings you didn't want him to see.
You spoke less. You fidgeted more. You might've been happy and giggling an hour ago, but then you were suddenly sulking and depressed and the thoughts in your head weren't the pleasant kinds. It became harder to not feel like you were too much a trouble to be taken care of and at some point, began to wonder whether he ever got sick of you. Because if anything, you were sick of yourself too. There was no reason for him not to be.
Other telltale signs Caleb picked up were your tendency to look in the mirror more often, finding flaws you would dig into and make yourself feel even worse. The sudden breakouts, the tightness around your hips in clothes that normally fit you on normal days, the dark circles under your eyes as sleeping turned into a chore. And even when you did eventually manage it for the night, it was impossible to find yourself awake without kicking up a fuss, let alone drag yourself out of bed all on your own.
The last point was probably when the food tasted bland, regardless of whether he cooked it or not. It was enough to tip you over the edge, bringing up a crying spell from you.
Hot tears were getting into your untouched bowl, falling one after another, until you sniffled and bit your lip to stop yourself from making a sound outside of a small whimper.
You had hoped papa wouldn't notice you struggling, as much as you also wanted him to see you too.
"What's wrong, little one?"
His voice, steady, still knew how to carry concern. Seeping into your conscience and coaxing to make your sobs finally heard, shoulders trembling as your lips quivered too.
"I don't know...I don't know what's wrong with me, papa! I hate it!" You whined, loud as you vented out your frustration, your sayings all crashing into nonsense as papa stood up from the dining table and scooped you into his arms, taking up all the little thumps of your hard fists against his chest without an issue.
"Let me go, papa! Let me go!"
He ignored you. Which wasn't new as he did do it often, but you were clearly not in the mood to take it lightly.
You cried harder, wailing into the crook of his neck, uncaring of where he was taking you. Hot tears spilled against his neck. Not enough to burn, but still enough to give him a feel of your emotions.
"Papa doesn't like me..." you had trailed off, before meeting the mattress of your bed with an "oof!" that was short lived.
You felt his presence come beside you soon enough, inviting you to snuggle against him; which you did, only to take in the familiar scent of his faint cologne, grounding you as your sobs gradually died off.
Papa wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, pressing a kiss onto the crown of your head. The warmth was miniscule with an impact as vast as the sky, soothing your emotions easier than anything—or anyone else—could ever dream of doing.
Seeing your crying fit had mostly come to an end, Caleb swooped down to nip at your nose next, hearing you squeak.
"Papa! What was that?!"
"You said something about me just now, didn't you? This is a reprimand."
"Ah...but..."
"Do I need to bite you again?"
He rolled on top of you before you could blink a second time. Trapping your head between his arms, keeping you under his captured gaze.
"Where should I taste next, hm..." His voice was low to purposely tease; lips faintly along your jawline.
You shivered, yet that didn't stop you from turning away, swallowing thickly. "I'm bleeding, papa. I don't think we should do this."
"When has that ever stopped me?"
His thumbs hooked onto the waistband of your pants and panties altogether, pulling them down without hesitation.
A gasp slipped out, accompanied by your little protest. "Nononono it's really gross, I'll make a mess!"
That still wasn't enough to deter him. Caleb was set on changing your mood, his hand sneaking under your shirt to feel your warmth, gliding down, drifting between your legs.
"How bad are your cramps?"
"They're manageabl—"
"Don't lie to me."
"...It'll probably get better once I sleep it off."
"So it's that bad," he stated, cutting through your subtlety. "My girl doesn't have to lie to me. I wonder if she knows that."
You planned to counter back, but was ultimately met with his fingers prodding at your entrance first, keeping your words dead in your throat.
"Relax, baby," he muttered, coaxing you, lips slowly mouthing down your throat. "Papa's got you, okay?"
He pushed the tips of his fingers in, feeling you pulsate.
Your body clenched on its own, sucking in his intrusion, making you whimper softly as he figured out a pace. He took his time with his thrusts, gently rubbing over your clit, feeling you convulse underneath him with a blissful sigh.
Then the scent of your blood wafted through.
It took you out of it almost immediately, your nose scrunched in disgust over something you weren't designed to control when it came to your body. But it didn't prevent you from being hard on yourself, hating everything about it, wishing you could actually keep up the pretense that you were fine, even during these days of the month.
Papa shouldn't have to worry about you...it was too much to trouble him over this.
"Stop thinking."
Caleb gripped your jaw, making you look him in the eye. His lips left your skin where the dissipating pressure remained. "I'm taking care of you because you're in pain, and upset, and I don't want you thinking otherwise."
His fingers found the depths of you, and they curled to beckon your needed reprieve. A moan was off your lips in an instant before you could figure it out, followed by more laboured breathing as he touched upon your sweet spot, again and again.
Your hands helplessly landed on his shoulders for some semblance of leverage to keep yourself steady, before you inevitably began to fall apart on his fingers.
"Papa...!"
"I'm here, baby."
He kissed you, tasting your whines before they could even hope to form, flexing his fingers countless times to the point you were seeing stars. His thrusts were sharp, precise, and never failed to hit right where you needed it even when he picked up in haste.
The coil inside you was tightened to the point it snapped, and you threw your head back as you came, gushing with fluids and blood alike.
Caleb pumped it all out of you slowly, letting you stain the bed, careless about it when you were obviously more important.
You sniffed, but there wasn't a need to cry.
Papa was warm, keeping you safe in his embrace, patting your head as the cramps finally began to lessen, and you didn't feel as bad anymore.
It didn't completely fix everything, but it definitely made you rest a bit assured.
Caleb was here, and he would always keep you at ease.
“Zayne is the best! You're just like the big brother I've never had.”
Whenever Caleb does something stupid, and as a result, earns him your ignorance, he knows he needs to make it up to you right away when you start calling Zayne more often; putting him on speaker so that Caleb can hear your conversation and how you sweetly call the doctor, "gege!"
The moment those two syllables slip out, he instantly freezes. His head turns slowly, trying to not make it obvious that he was craning his neck to hear more closely. You know, just to make sure he heard it right. Maybe he needs to go for a checkup or something, those fleet comms probably messed up with his eardrums and now he's just mishearing a lot of things. Silly him.
"Are you still busy at the hospital, ge? I miss you, I haven't seen you for so long. I think I even forgot what you look like..."
Caleb just felt four blows delivered to his stomach.
Carefully, he tries to get to you. Poking your shoulder, handing you a plate of sliced apples, keeping his smile as carefree as possible—because he definitely is! It's not like he's currently crashing out on the inside or anything, no. He's just concerned for your wellbeing. Why?
Well, obviously because he's your dear, amazing, one of a kind, special big br—
"Zayne is the best! You're just like the big brother I've never had."
Caleb is now considering suicide.
By the corner of your eye, you see a man with brown hair and purple eyes, head hanging low, looking at you with trembling irises and a down turned line on his chapped lips. If he had ears on the top of his head, they would be dropping. And if he had a tail, it would be thumping the ground sadly.
You raise a brow, picking up an apple slice and gesturing blindly. "What are you waiting for? Go hang up the laundry."
He sinks deeper to the ground, voice sheepish and quiet. "Meimei..."
"Do I know you?"
Caleb has no choice but to resign and focus on doing the chores of the house, letting you kick your feet back and continue your phone call.
On the other side, Zayne is not completely sure why you've resorted to calling him that—he knows Caleb would never let it slide—but if him playing along is what you want, then he has no choice but to do it for you.
Because you and Caleb always had to drag him in, didn't you?
“The Netherlord, the Netherlord! They told me so many tales about you!”
🪷 || cw: daddaughter, yin yang sundering spoilers
What if instead of returning to the mortal realm, Xia Yizhou took on his sister's fate and led her to the cycle of reincarnation, accepted his lonely eternity—until a mortal girl stumbled into Netherfalls, reminiscent of her...?
The Netherlord title, once shared by twins, now became a title solely beared by the lonesome man who lost his sister.
And yet, he also had a little one running around wildly across ghostly corpses and flickering lanterns; a little mortal girl he hadn't intended on picking up.
She stumbled into the Netherfalls by chance one day, almost getting consumed by a wild Ghost had it not been for him to slay it in time.
He checked her pulse. She was still breathing. Her heart was still pumping. She was clearly a living girl who somehow ended up with the dead.
Of course Xia Yizhou intended to throw her back to the mortal realm, but there was just one problem: she wouldn't let go of him.
She shook her head fiercely, whining as she clinged to his leg.
"I don't wanna go back!" she complained, eyes shut tight as she held onto him harder.
The lord sighed, stabbing his claymore into the dead ground, exasperated for the first time since his little monster forgot all about him.
"This isn't where you belong, little one."
"But there's nothing fun over there!"
"I can't say there's anything fun here too. Do you want to get chased, caught, and almost eaten by a Ghost again?"
She froze, nulling her whining down into a whimper. Fright easily won her over yet she was still stubborn and insistent on staying—shaking her head and pouting. "But the other place doesn't have a handsome man like you."
"Flattery won't get you anywhere." He crossed his arms over his chest, raising a brow. "You're quite brave for trying this with me. Do you even know who you're talking to?"
"The Netherlord, right?" Her eyes shone, awestruck.
That threw Xia Yizhou off. "What's with that face?"
The girl giggled, standing up abruptly to get her arms around his waist now. He oddly did not resist.
"The Netherlord, the Netherlord! They told me so many tales about you!" She chimed, grinning ear to ear. "The great lord who slays all bad ghosts and grants our mortal dreams!"
Xia Yizhou stared at her.
It had been centuries since he last visited the mortal realm; who was still spinning up these stories about him? No—even worse, who was lying to this little girl about him being a magical wish god? Did they want to die?
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he exhaled deeply. There was really no light way to put in the truth here.
"Listen closely, girl. I am not like whatever those little tales are saying about me," he explained, his voice quiet and soft—a tone he initially believed he had forgotten how to use. "Do not worship me."
It was not much but he did expect some kind of dejection to occur. A crestfallen expression that would bloom across her delicate features as all her greatest dreams shattered before him.
What he got instead was her nose scrunching, brows furrowing, wearing an investigative look. "I think you're either lying to me, or just too busy to realize anything. Whatever it is, you must also be stupid."
Xia Yizhou coughed, taken aback.
"You're not very smiley either. Are you always this grumpy?"
"Your bravery is astounding here. Who raised you to act like this?"
She pulled her arms back, crossing them and stomping her foot as she looked away. Huffing. Offended.
"Does it look like I was raised by anyone? I'm completely on my own here, Mr. Lord! I don't appreciate you shifting the credit to people who never existed in my life even once."
Xia Yizhou paused.
There was something he hadn't noticed.
His lips drew themselves ajar as he looked at her properly.
A terrifying resemblance he realized, lingered like dewdrops across her features, posture, behaviour. Even her voice, a note higher, sounded similar. Familiar.
"..."
Netherfalls was then graced with the first rainfall it had ever experienced.
The girl squeaked, shielding her head with both her hands, running away to the closest shelter she could find. Her feet took her away before her mind, placing her underneath a nearby porch.
Xia Yizhou felt an ache that took over his chest, traversing down his spine, dragging together with the droplets of cold rain he felt no sensation from. It was too warm in his core to realize the chill which raised the hairs on his skin. It burned, even. A fire that crushed him.
The girl turned to him and waved her hand, gesturing at him. "Netherlord or not, no one stays under the rain unless they're dumb. Come here!"
"Dumb gege, it's raining. Come here."
Surrounded by the floating lotuses of the pond, there he saw her again.
The Lord of the Nether realm ruled with an iron fist, but he was built with a soft heart underneath a cracked shell, and reluctantly took her in after all.
It meant more work was on his shoulders now, like going to the mortal realm to gather mortal food, cooking and feeding her. There was also washing her clothes, sewing her new ones, and definitely protecting her from stray spirits intending to possess her and creep back into the mortal realm.
It was added workload.
But her bubbly laugh and her mischievous smile, honestly? It pinched him in the chest.
Sometimes if he stared long enough, he could make out the eternal features of his beloved that seemed to hide underneath the mortal face. He braided her hair into the way he remembered he used to do for her, as a selfish part of him wished to mould her back into who she once was.
And then, she loosely addressed him one day. "Baba, can we go to Hesperion Reach today?"
Xia Yizhou glanced at her once, nodding in approval. When he glanced at her again, it was with a raised brow. "What's with the title?"
"You took me in. That qualifies you as my baba, no?"
"..." He resisted the urge to correct her. "Sure. Baba will take you anywhere you want, little one."
His chest ached again. But parts of him decided he didn't deserve to hear his old role anymore, as he swallowed down a hunger he had been struggling to keep in since she arrived.
For it was no lie that the moment he switched their fates, he held the same cravings his little lotus suffered from. But Soulbeads were not the problem anymore; it was that he wanted something else.
And everyday, every night—the more he recognized her presence, the harder it was to keep quiet about it.
How long could he keep her with him? Until when would this last before he'd feed her wine, and make her forget everything as she returned to the mortal realm?
In the quiet absence of his beloved, he grew into the exact monster she was afraid of becoming.
“Xia Yizhou, if I burn this cave down, will you run away and never let us meet again...?”
🪷 || cw: cannibalism
“You've heard of the vengeful Ghost who preys on young brides every 15 days, right?”
That was what led you into red robes, the kind you never imagined of wearing. But what good was an exorcist who hesitated to kill a Ghost she recognized to be her brother?
It was an accident many years ago that had cost you your innocence, your peace, and the one you loved the most. You lived through the years since believing that the Ghost who murdered your brother was still running rampant, and no amount of prayers to the Lords would help you.
In these same years, you abandoned the dream of performing. There was no dance to dance nor any song to sing when your sole audience was no longer here. The only option was to avenge him, cultivating in the name of exorcism, wearing talismans by your belt and a sword in its hilt.
The whispered tragedy came to you a few days before the 15th by passersby in an inn you took your rest in, saying that the nearby village suffered from the claws of the malevolent Ghost who resided in a cave not too far from it.
In just three months, they had lost six girls, and the many elderly folk who couldn't shoulder the grief which burdened them anymore.
The Ghost who claimed your brother was fond of offerings as well. You could not rule out the possibility.
Within the few days before the 15th, you gathered intel and ventured to the old village.
You laid rest. Searched the pathways and eavesdropped on the plans. By the night of the 15th day you slipped out into the woods and took down every man carrying the wedding sedan, looking past the curtain to find a teary-eyed bride.
"Give me your clothes. I'll go in your place."
She did so as you said. But when she planned to run, she couldn't help but look back at you.
"What about you?"
You were busy avoiding suffocation in such heavy robes to see the hesitation in her eyes, waving her off casually. "I'll be fine. The Ghost will cry when he sees me."
The men eventually woke up and continued their duty in carrying the sedan, which now held you inside, over to the cave. They weren't kind enough to put you down safely, no—they just dropped without a care and fled for their lives, already feeling sick.
You huffed. "How uncouth."
Now; should you act like a crying bride, or scream for help like a dummy? Whichever one would convince the Ghost a little more?
While you were trying to make up your mind though, you had no time to register the hand that went past the curtain and quickly pulled you out.
"Hey—!"
This Ghost truly lacked his manners.
Your hand went under your sleeve, planning to pull out a talisman to subdue the Ghost. Just stick it onto him and stab your sword in between the eyes, easy work.
That was the plan—until you stopped when you saw him, recognition filling you. Your breath held itself back. Your hand trembled a little more like the girl from years ago.
The eyes you would never forget; they peered into you without warmth to soften the blow of its hostility.
Gege?
Your heart ached, but there was no place for sorrow in this moment. They mentioned the Ghost liked to take on the appearances of the brides' beloved to deceive them. This must be it.
Remembering this, now there was anger coursing through your veins. It was enough to kill him, now he wanted to look like him too?
This Ghost knew no shame, at all.
And frankly, neither did you, as you fixed your posture into a feeble girl's, wrapping your arms around his waist and hiding your face against his chest. He was warm.
"Husband, I'm here now. How do I look? These robes are so heavy, I can't wait to take them off later tonight." You batted your lashes at him, acting sheepish.
The Ghost peered at you for some time. His brows knitted themselves together, as if trying to figure you out. As if he knew that you weren't the real bride.
"You wish to marry me?" He spoke, a voice that farmed familiarity in you. He snapped his fingers once, and the cave transformed into a ceremony.
Even you couldn't help the stirred feelings in your heart, feeling that you were really marrying him. Your brother, who would've been your wedded husband by now, had it not been for that night he saved you. Tears filled your eyes too quickly, but you chose to hid your solemn expression in his neck as he carried you through the rows of red.
The ceremony played along with odd accuracy. He never missed a detail, putting in effort that even began to spell doubt within you.
So this was how it would go, should you marry your brother...your brother...you were indeed marrying your brother now, no?
Your brother, who had you laid down onto the red sheets of the bed, hidden by more red that cascaded down every corner of the bed. Your brother, who took off your veil.
Your brother, who nestled his head against your neck. His tongue that slowly started to drag over your skin, hot and wet, as if gathering the salt for his appetizer before he would finally indulge in his fresh meal.
His teeth were blunt when he nibbled.
His canines were not.
And it was sharp pain marking the beginning of getting devoured that finally woke you from your stupor, your hands quickly rushing to push him away yet to no avail.
His strength was too much. Your heart pounded at the realization you got played.
A talisman was your last hope.
You nimbly took out the yellow paper drawn with red characters out of your sleeve and plastered it onto whichever part of him you could reach, paralyzing him, even if just for a moment.
"A Ghost who seduces his prey before eating them?" You laughed. "You really have no dignity."
Blood pooled from where he had bitten. It dripped and painted darker red over the robes you momentarily allowed yourself to dream in.
As you pushed him to the ground, sword in hand, you heard him do a bitter soft chuckle.
"Long time no see, little sister."
You froze. What?
Peeling off the flimsy talisman, he rose from the ground with ease and rolled his neck before looking at you again. His eyes were still potently purple, but now there were thin lines of tears brimming along the edge.
The Ghost you planned to kill—he really cried when he saw you.
"How are you?" He began, melancholic despite blood—your blood—still coloured his mouth. "You've grown so well without me."
Your hand shook, your sword carrying the same feeling. "Don't say that. You're not my brother."
He was a man with honour and respect. He would 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 go down the road of a heartless flesh eater...right?
When he saw you brandish your sword once more, no tremble to be found—Xia Yizhou smiled.
You pointed it at the spot between his eyes, unwavering.
"Hm, I had always wished we got married under better circumstances."
"Stop."
You pulled out another talisman, ready to end this; ignoring the hesitation of having the blood of your kin on your sword.
But it didn't work. It never did.
"Xia Yizhou," you breathed, voice cracking, "if I burn this cave down, will you run away and never let us meet again...?"
Caleb: “Sure. Every friend of my daughter is my kid too.”
🪦🕊️🔞 || cw: daddaughter, daughter's best friend, coerced rape
Papaleb was deeply unhappy with his marriage. And it showed in the way his bellowed orders shook even the most indifferent fleet officer to his bones.
Even so—you, as his daughter's best friend, had an opportunity. It started when she invited you over to her house to complete a project, but you held reservations towards the idea.
"Papa is a nice man," she reasoned, "you'll definitely like him."
An awkward laugh left your lips. "Yeah, and he's the colonel. Who, you know, governs a fleet."
"So? It's not like he's going to throw you into prison if you say something wrong."
"Easy for his daughter to say," you muttered, looking away. No matter how much you thought about it, an unease always seemed to creep over you about him.
Yet she really knew how to persuade you. Crawling closer to you, tucking hair behind your ear, taking your chin between her fingers and turning you to face her again.
"Trust me," she whispered, ending with a wink, "you're just his type."
Sure. Whatever that meant.
In the end, you agreed. Sitting in the living room, hands placed over your lap. You hadn't dared to move, let alone even breathe.
She nudged you with her shoulder, giggling at your tense posture. "Relax, he's not going to eat you."
You shifted uncomfortably, looking over your shoulder, swallowing heavily. "We already finished the project, so I think it's better if I just leave right now—"
"Really? You won't even stay for a meal first?"
A third voice interrupted you, and it came together with slow footsteps. The kind that reverberated through your body, triggering the rapid pounding of your heart.
On the contrary, your friend was ecstatic. Looking over the couch with a sparkle in her eyes. "You're finally home, papa!"
"Mhm, I am."
His hand reached to touch the top of her head; leading to you witnessing the way she instantly melted, nuzzling further into his touch. From there, your gaze followed along his forearm. To his bicep, where you imagined the strenuous effort of his combat prowess must be kept underneath the thick of his uniform. Your throat ran peculiarly dry.
Higher up and you caught his shoulder—broad enough for his daughter to sit on. Then his neck. The first sight of his jawline. And finally, the depth of his face; where you couldn't lie to yourself how he made you feel.
For as long as you had known your best friend, she never told you about her mother. Just that, in her words, "she made papa sad."
Then came the rumours that the colonel was a tyrant. He took no excuses when giving out orders, and death was the easiest penalty he would give out.
But the tyrant in question was also plating their dinner, smiling softly at his little girl, listening attentively to her stories.
He never missed your gaze, either.
"Is the food to your liking?"
You straightened up, hoping the heat on your face was not apparent. "It's fine, sir..."
"Sir? Feels like I'm still on duty now," he smiled lazily, "call me whatever you like."
You felt emboldened. "Then...papa?"
Maybe you were just seeing things, or maybe it was real when his gaze seemed to have darkened just then.
"Sure. Every friend of my daughter is my kid too."
So it should come as no surprise if he treated you like one of his own after that, right?
Right.
Caleb, the colonel, and the father of your best friend, knew how to treat you as well as his daughter.
He didn't keep a distance when you shifted to sit closer to him, as an excuse to hear him more clearly.
He didn't react when you tripped and fell over his lap, looking up at him through your lashes.
Your visits became more frequent after that. Whatever excuse she wanted to come up with, you went with it immediately.
And whenever he saw you again, he would smile, say hello, and pat your head—just like you were really his.
It messed with you, definitely.
But he was so nice.
He was patient, gentle, warm...
"Gonna go now, papa!"
A kiss from his daughter landed on his cheek with a stain, which he made no effort to wipe away.
It was then you realized—as she went for errands without bringing you along—you were left alone with him for the first time.
Where should this go now?
"Do you need to leave soon?"
You shook your head, not daring to meet his eyes when you noticed his hand creeping up your thigh.
"How long are you planning to stay then?"
You hadn't realized how close he had gotten to you, breath hot against your ear.
Something twisted within you. Something that felt selfish; a little more than just greedy. You tried to swallow it down, letting it simmer as a pool of heat in your stomach.
"As long as you'll have me, papa."
His eyes lit like wildfire, and he shifted you to spread your legs.
You snapped out of it, then. The panic finally remembered to rise in your chest. "Wait, w-what are you doing?"
Caleb wore a fatal smile. It was nothing like the ones he used before. Towering over as you laid flat on the couch, getting himself into the space between your legs—he leaned down and forced his kiss onto your lips, making you gasp as you pushed him away immediately.
"We, we shouldn't do this— hm!"
Caleb simply ignored you. Your words by this point meant nothing to him now. He latched onto your neck, sucking filth onto your unharmed skin.
A moan betrayed you.
Still, with what rationale you had left, you twisted yourself free and turned around; crawling underneath his hovering figure, blood rushing in your ears as you heaved, needing to escape.
You were left clawing the couch's surface when he pulled you back.
"Why are you trying to run, little one?"
Caleb's voice now lacked the warmth you were drawn to in the first place.
"You kept inviting yourself to our home. Was this not what you were hoping for?" he chuckled, "or are you still lying to yourself? Hm?"
With your hips lifted, his hand went down and discovered the outline of your folds, making you squirm with pursed lips.
"Be good. Papa's gonna make you feel alright soon," as he found your panties, dragging them to the side, touching your wet core, "You'll let me help you, right? You know you want this."
Did you, really?
When you dug yourself into the crevices of his life, was it just to have him do this to you?
Did you mistake your initial interest for something as twisted as want?
Caleb breached you full with his fingers, and he made you remember him by one name.
"Papa...!"
When he inevitably replaced his hand with his cock to fill you until the end, he drove you to a point where you needed him to stop.
He ignored every single cry.
You didn't even hear the second his daughter—your supposed friend—came back, lazily draping herself over his back.
"I found you a new wife to keep," she grinned, watching you tremble as you were fed another thrust hitting too deep. "I did good, right papa?"
Caleb kissed her.
"You did very well, little one."
The moment you walked into their house, you became part of their neverending play.
Caleb was fine with your hectic schedule. It would not bother him if you had to leave early because of things since sometimes, he'd do it too. But even the most understanding brother in the world would have his limits.
In the beginning, it would just be something easy enough to brush off.
"Hey Caleb, I need to pick up this call, sorry. I'll be back in a few."
"Oh, I have an event that day. Can we go to the theme park a few days later?"
Yes. Of course. He understood you had your own agendas.
He couldn't always hog up all of your time—as much as he wanted to. You always made sure to make it up to him too, so all was fine and well.
Then it slowly started to grow. Last minute cancellations, because you realised you had forgotten a deadline was actually due that day. Excuses for your absenteeism whenever Caleb dropped by Linkon, only managing a brief kiss and an apologetic look on your face, showing how bad you felt. He didn't like that.
There were times you couldn't even manage to go to Skyhaven, even though you always said you missed him.
But did you, really?
Did you actually want to see and meet up with him, making up for all the lost times as much as he wanted it too?
Or was Caleb becoming more of an afterthought you'd only think of once your never ending pile of work was done—which seemed to be less frequent? Many occasions there were that included Caleb feeling a sort of agitation run up his veins, the kind that he never wanted to show around you. Yet it was becoming more prominent, an annoyance pulsating through his body.
His patience, admittedly, was running thin and thinner. The last straw was when you couldn't even pick up his calls anymore. His texts? All left on seen.
As busy as you were, replying to him was the bare minimum. Answering his calls and letting him hear your voice was the least you could do.
This was no way to treat your brother. He gave you the freedom you kept begging him for, so why were you misusing it? Now you were going against his words, taking away promises—leaving him all alone to be a fool.
Maybe he should've been more strict with you after all.
On this night where he finally held you captive, pinning you down on the bed of the room he gave you in his house—the room that used to belong to him—he was going to remind you that you were still his too.
And even if you wanted to struggle, he would just take it as an act of defiance. Since you were never the easiest to tame. Until your voice remembered how to tremble upon seeing and hearing him, Caleb would continue to keep you as is. Trailing his fingers along your jaw, down the column of your neck, light pressure on both sides of your neck as a threat.
"Ge- I'm sorry, okay? I've been so busy and-"
"And that somehow gave you the confidence to disrespect me," He cut you off, an off smirk on his lips, twisting your words into something more vile and out of your mind, "it seems to me that you've forgotten who I am, so a reminder needs to be done."
You shivered, hairs raised. "Caleb, let's just talk this out. Please…?"
He looked down on you, a stare that was ever piercing. It was cold and harsh as brisk wind, but you saw the tiniest crack hidden beneath the potency of purple disguised as black.
You had to dive in and crack it more while you could.
"I'm really sorry for not responding to your texts or picking up your calls," you explained with a rush, trying to not squirm at the feel of his broad hand beginning to explore under your shirt, "in truth, I was just tired and I didn't want you to see me like that. I wanted to still appear as the cheerful little sister you adore and rightfully deserve. Same goes for all of our missed dates, all the times I couldn't welcome you properly as you dropped by, all the missed opportunities for me to come see you here. I just really, really fucked up, gege."
Caleb had your shirt fully lifted up by now, above your chest where he began fondling with your chest. He flicked your nipples, igniting a reaction out of you. It was like all the words you poured out for a sliver of his sympathy just went through one ear and out from the other.
"You're aware of your mistakes," he acknowledged that much. "Good."
But the real fear started to kick in when his thumbs hooked onto the waistband of your pants and underwear, pulling them down in one fell swoop.
You panicked. "Gege, not this— please, please…!"
"Shh, behave." His voice was oddly calm. Against your pounding heart, he sounded as if he was just putting down a rabid puppy that liked to bite. It was the lack of emotion that terrified you more; the inability to guess what he was thinking.
"There's just no other way to teach you, baby sis."
He did not even give you a fair warning. The crudeness of your brother always came at the cost of your body. His lips that pressed insistently against yours were enough to silence your cries, as together with his hands that pulled you closer to his crotch, a bulging outline which made you tense up, and he felt it.
The taste of your terror was the sweetest kind he indulged in, as he took you with force. Everything he missed about you—he acted with greed. This was how he forgived you for all the times lost; by remembering how you couldn't push him away. His cock filled in every inch of you, and you screamed about it. Your own hands shielding your crying face, unable to resist his thrusts that were too much.
"No, no— stop, it hurts so much…nhn…"
Caleb laughed.
He laughed, with all the audacity he gathered from your pleas, right into your face, pupils shrinking.
"I don't wanna hear any more of that from you. This is what you owe me, remember?"
Lifting your hips, his thrusts began to hit deep, meeting the start of your cervix. "We're just bonding and spending time together as we always should be."
The last thing that went through your functioning mind was the tight grasp of his hands on both your ankles, and then a sharp pain that pierced through your flesh and went right into your bones—
*crack*
Maybe you had screamed for help just then.
Maybe you had just went silent.
You couldn't recall even if you tried. Nothing but endless white was left in your thoughts. And it seemed that after so much struggling, your body gave in and finally grew limp.
Caleb could do whatever now. You wouldn't fight back. He fed you with his seed, over and over. Until it spilled out of your gaping hole, and you failed to react. The kisses he left on your lips were met with no response either.
Your legs were numb. No sensation was left to be felt in them. And somehow, the rest of you decided to act the same, as if it was mourning together with the loss.
Only, just barely, could you register the sound of your voice—whatever was left of it, as you tried one last word.
"Ge…ge…"
Caleb stood up, leaving you in the violent mess of his affection; white and red.
🪦🕊️🔞 || cw: daddaughter, twincest, drug use, somnophilia, rape
Papaleb's twin daughters were definitely the most obedient, growing up under the expectations of society deciding how they should act, dress, and talk. The colonel would never foster unruly children, after all.
And for as long as you could remember, it was always you and your twin sister observed under the skeptical lenses of nobodies.
There were the whispers of being the colonel's illegitimate children, that he had been forced to raise both of you after the woman he knocked up got sick of him. Other spun rumours spoke that the two of you were actually test subjects under the pretense of his kids in order to not draw too much suspicion.
It was theory after theory after false tales and more nonsense that people made up, always interfering in your lives with papa.
But the truth, at the end of the day, was just simple. Caleb had a pair of twins, grew up two girls on his own, and they were all legally recognized to be family. That was it. Easy done. Nothing else needed to be said and no one deserved to know anything more.
Most importantly, papa belonged to you and your twin sister!
Stop perceiving him. Stop calling him. Stop asking for him when he was supposed to spend time with the both of you on the few days he was allowed off duty.
Why did the world keep wanting a piece of him?
When would it stop?
It hurt.
It felt like papa was slipping away. Like he was going to walk away from both of your lives sooner or later. It would be a lie to say tears were not mutually shed in your shared room over the horrible thought of losing him during some quiet nights.
And you knew this wouldn't do.
Something had to be done.
One day alone at home, you hugged your twin, wrapping arms around her, whispering to her about a plan you had devised.
She gasped yet it did not deter you. This was the only way you could make sure that papa still belonged to both of you. He was yours.
You worked on setting it up accordingly to how you wanted it to go. It wasn't that hard anyways—a nice dinner with papa was a given, since he made it a household rule that it would never be skipped.
Then it was him that always had to be the one to cook it; another rule which could not be overwritten. But as the filial children you both were, he wouldn't mind the extra helping hands.
"What are you both up to, coming into my kitchen just like that?"
Your twin froze on the spot, thinking you both just got caught. You, on the other hand, simply smiled.
"Papa has been working so much and still makes sure to cook dinner, of course we want to help if we can," you expressed, keeping up a guise of concern as you pouted, "or does papa think we're just getting in the way...?"
Your eyes watered on command; something you had practiced.
And just like that, it swayed even the cleverest of hearts, his hand pausing in the middle of stirring soup to let his thumb wipe away your tears.
"Well, aren't I the bad guy now for making my little one cry?" He gave a helpless smile, patting your head. "Thank you for helping."
You sniffled, acting as if blinking your tears away. "I hope you'll repay us somehow then."
He raised a brow. "I don't recall signing any terms and conditions about that."
"So we're just nothing but contracted kids to you...the rumours were right after all..."
"Of course not."
Caleb sighed, exasperated. What could he do to possibly always please your quick assuming mind?
You giggled, walking away to the dining table with the water and cups. "While you think about how to reward us, we'll set up the table first!"
Caleb had nothing to say about that.
It was perfect. An unsuspecting father who would never think one of his daughters was capable of slipping a sleeping pill into his water.
Your twin still saw it though, and she swallowed nervously as you stirred until the pill dissolved into nothing, sitting down like normal.
"I still don't know about this..." she had started to say, "what if he finds out?"
"Then I'll take the blame and whatever punishment he wants to give," you stated, quieting her doubts down, "you're practically harmless. There's nothing he could accuse you of."
That was a lie.
Papa, if determined, would always find faults just for the sake of getting either of you over his lap, receiving spanking after spanking, igniting wild sparks in his eyes as he heard your cries.
And it might happen after this too. But at the very least, it wouldn't be tonight.
You weren't sure how effective the pill would be against him, yet maybe it was combined with his high efforts as a fleet colonel that made him yawn right after dinner was concluded. His eyes felt droopy, his bodily reactions were less sharp, and before long—he called it a night.
An instant victory, really. When you both sneaked into his room, he was already sound asleep.
Excitement filled your veins.
In an instant, you were dragging your sister to the bed, crawling closer to him—and to his crotch. He was limp now, but that would change soon enough.
"Are you still hesitating now?" You quietly asked, though you were already pulling down his pants and briefs together. "Or do you want this too?"
Your twin, shy as she was, admittedly had a flush on her cheeks when she saw how well endowed papa was.
You leaned closer to her.
"Are we both raping papa tonight?"
"..." She nodded. "Yes, we are."
"Good," your lips brushed against hers, breath hot, "you really are my sister, after all."
And you kissed her. Feeling her melt immediately, gasping against your persistent mouth while your hand stroked papa's cock impatiently, getting him to full mast.
"Papa's already hard for us," you commented whilst kissing down your twin's neck, "you wanna let him feel your mouth?"
"Mhn— yes," she rasped, already sinking down when you both parted, taking papa all to the back of her throat. "Hn!"
"Careful, papa wouldn't want you hurting yourself. But do it well."
Then you focused on feeling the rest of him. Straddling his torso, groping his chest, gliding your tongue over the slope of his neck. He quietly groaned, brows furrowed, yet still remained asleep.
"Mn, papa..."
Fully tainted by the desires of the girls he raised—unless he wanted to be tormented by the facts of this night over and over again, no one else could have him anymore.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you leaned in and kissed his unmoving lips.
Then he started kissing back.
"Mn—!" You heard your twin struggling, looking to find his hand actively fisting her hair, forcing her deeper onto his cock.
The pill didn't work...!?
"Hah— pa-" You pushed away from him, freeing your lips for brief words before he grabbed your head too and kept you in place.
His kisses and hold were persistent, as much as his strength rivaled both of yours.
"If you wanna rape me, you should do it properly," he spoke, voice gruff. "Didn't even thinking of tying my hands first. Very amateur mistake."
You cowered, confidence now gone. "Sorry, papa..."
"Did I say I wanted your apology?"
His Evol sparked to life. With ease it was he managed to get you sitting on his face, a position that gave you power to restrain him better.
"I'll pretend I didn't wake up," he offered, smiling lazily. "In return, I expect better performance."
His name, followed by those three words. It was quite often that you liked to utter that phrase at him. A spur of the moment kind of expression—usually over a lot of things, really.
You never really meant in the end, so of course he never took it to heart.
Back when you were young and impulsive, it was Caleb that had to hold you back from your sudden urges. Yes, you were allowed to go to the playground. No, you could not have another ice pop after dinner. You had better not come crying to him if you got really bad cavities after that.
Of course, naïve little you was used to being spoiled. Your big brother always promised to give you everything, so not getting what you wanted sometimes was just a trigger for your incessantly loud tantrums. Your sobs for pity, your sad face—faux acts you'd pull until you realize he wouldn't budge regardless of it.
Then you would be puffing your cheeks, turning away from him, crossing your arms and stomping your feet.
And from there, those same words would easily leave your lips.
"I hate you, gege!"
They used to carry no weight back then. That was why it was such a simple thing for you both. For you, it was to say. For him, it was to ignore.
Those periods of you presumably 'hating' him never lasted long enough to mean anything. And that summed up your relationship together, as silly as it was.
However many years that would go by since, it would always be the same routine he already memorized.
"I hate you, Caleb. Stop getting better grades than me."
"Calebbb, you weren't supposed to tell granny about me skipping class! A snitch, I hate you!"
"I hate you. Why can't I just go out with my friends?!"
And time and time again, he would fix it; make you take back your words without a second thought, because you could never really hate him.
"It's okay, meimei. I'll help you score better for the next exam."
"If I didn't tell her, we would both get in trouble. Do you want that?"
"I'm just looking out for you, pips. These 'friends' of yours have only known you for three days. They don't even go to your school, are you sure they're trustworthy?"
Sometimes apologies would slip in too. Whether from you or from him, it would seal up whatever bad was left.
And naturally, just like that, everything would go back to normal.
For years, this was always how it was. Even until now as adults, you would playfully punch him and give him an angry look, telling him how much you hated him.
Caleb wondered when did it start to feel more real.
"Gege!"
You had barged into his room once, fuming as you approached him. As you really got it confirmed for you there; he was injured, in pain after a particularly bad wanderer fight in the Deepspace Tunnel—and he didn't tell you.
There were tears hot by the edge of your eyes, followed by a sob that cracked your voice. Above the anger that slammed against your chest, there was also concern. Yet even then, it was not enough to drown out the weight of your words; which particularly stung him this time.
"If you wanted to die, you should've just done so from the start. What's the point in coming back if you're still facing danger all the time?"
Of course, it was hypocritical of you to blame him for the job he didn't want. But you were never the decided one to make any sense.
Caleb lifted his head, emotions deeply unreadable.
Even until now, you still had your moments. They were not moments that you were proud of, but you had little to no weak control over them whenever they happened. It should've just ended there, and yet it didn't.
"I don't want to live this life knowing that you could die anytime, Caleb," selfishly, you admitted. "And I know it's not your fault. But you of all people should understand this anxiety that just keeps leaving me awake every night."
"So what do you want me to do about it?" He spoke back. "You already said it. I'm helpless. And now there's—"
Caleb hissed, not completely invulnerable to the pain that crawled up on him. It wrapped around his chest tight, fell in between the openings of his rib. It stung more with your tears that met his stare.
"I hate you, Caleb."
This time, there was no resolution quick enough that he could think of.
He breathed in once, licking his lips for something to say. "I'm pathetic, I know. But I don't think I can accept those words of yours."
"So? Do you expect to have my pity again?"
"Meimei."
"Gege," you spoke with absolute vice, "if you keep running away, I won't play with you anymore."
Caleb couldn't give a reply. So you left, just like that. No sob story to entertain, no second thoughts to go back on, no hesitation felt in the weight of your limbs.
For days, there was burden. The sickening realisation that you were wrong for how you bursted, making your brother carry yet another weight on top of his injured figure. You were really the most horrible kind of little sister to exist.
Caleb could endure the worst for you; why did you fall apart the second it became real to you? It was a blow you couldn't hold against. And in return, that painted you as someone who was undeserving of everything that there ever was.
Then above everything else—that three word phrase you spat out thoughtlessly.
Did you really mean it?
You weren't quite sure of it anymore.
But the next time you agreed to see him, it solidified the said truth.
"What do you mean you're going to the Deepspace Tunnel again? You haven't even made a full recovery yet."
"I can't exactly say no."
"Don't give me that. What good are you as the colonel if you can't defy this absurd order?"
"That's enough," he spoke as is, voice void of emotion, "let's not turn this into another argument."
"Sure. It's just that I never took you as someone this stubborn."
"...The food's getting cold. At least have a meal first before you want to leave me again."
"...Okay, I will."
But not even the simplest act could go as smoothly as it always used to. The tension was there with every bite. You swallowed the dreamy past that would never come back.
Why did it always have to risk this much to love someone that was born attuned to the stem of your very soul?
"I had hoped that after all this time, you finally learned to stop hiding things from me."
Caleb paused, swallowing once.
"I really tried my best to understand of why you kept doing the things you did, okay? And I had wished for a day it would all make sense. I tried, Caleb."
"I'm sorry."
You looked away, throat dry. Nothing was quite the same anymore. Neither was this.
Papa, at times, had his own urges that he couldn't ignore. And of course it made sense that you'd help him with them.
But if he went against your boundaries one day, you'd still forgive him, won't you?
"Papa-"
"I won't put it in, little one. Promise."
Remembering all the times he did uphold his words, you guessed it was okay. So you swallowed your hesitation down and opted for nodding timidly.
Caleb wore a smile—subtle, as the long fleet hours started to settle on him more. There was exhaustion in the form of deep eye bags underneath his eyes. His gaze fell flat, but the tiniest light that shone for you still made effort to come through.
Your hand quietly crept up to his face, the rough surface of unshaven stubble meeting your palm. "I missed you."
Caleb held an expression of deep regret, mixed with a longing for something more. He leaned into your touch, came closer to you, and crumbled on your lips.
Your father was always a strong man in your memories.
So when there came a time where he looked no better than the dead, how could you ever think he was still capable of conducting the worst?
He was always aware of what made you uncomfortable; always made the effort to not lean into those things whenever with you. He protected you from the world and in some cases, even from himself.
"P-papa…hn-"
He needed this, you told yourself to believe. He was filled with so much tension over the long days of dealing with awfully dumb subordinates that couldn't listen to orders properly; but you never had a problem obeying him. If anything, it was the only thing you knew how to do.
If this was how he wanted you; pliant, easily affected by the weight of his cock that pressed over your sopping pussy, making a mess with the pretty panties that was always his favourite pair, of course you would give it to him. He was allowed to rut helplessly against you, grunting about how warm you were, that you were just what he needed. But at the same time, never did he admit that you were perfect just like this.
When he was grinding between your folds, teasing your puffy clit and making you whimper—that was just barely helping him with his needs. You felt so inviting. Beyond that thin and deeply soaked fabric, there was more of you that he had yet to explore. It was more often than he wanted to let you know on how much he fisted himself whilst thinking about it.
Nobody else touched you before, so you must be tight.
Caleb hissed as he came, his seed spurting and making a further mess over your panties. It should've just ended at just there, then.
He should've done like what any good father would do; put away your soiled panties, slip on new ones, and kiss you with praises you'd melt at.
The furthest Caleb managed was the first step.
"A-ah, what?" You jolted, feeling solid heat replace the shivering cold that touched upon your cunt. One look down, and your heart jumped to your throat. "Papa?!"
He inhaled once, reeling himself back. "I'll be careful. Promise."
It wasn't enough to just end it like that. Caleb slid himself between your folds again, nothing to hide the feeling of skin upon skin. Now it was much more raw, more intimate than anything, making him throw his head down with a gasp.
"Fuck," he cursed, "this is so much better."
Papa felt so hot against you. He was burning, dealing up more friction over your sensitive clit, stimulating beyond your capacity. It tickled a weird emotion that swirled by the lower part of your stomach, something churning and made you spasm.
"Mhn- papa, gonna pee-!"
"Do it."
His voice, deep and fond, maybe even a little violent—it triggered you to spill, warm fluids dripping out and coating his cock.
Caleb breathed out a chuckle, one corner of his lips turning up. "Enjoyed yourself, didn't you?"
Face turning red, you hid yourself with your hands. "That was an accident…"
Unbeknownst to you, it wasn't really that kind of accident. But was he going to reveal it to you?
No. And neither was he going to warn you first when he suddenly sneaked the tip of himself right inside your pulsing entrance.
You froze, heart pounding. "P-papa?"
"…" Caleb groaned, pulling away right after. "Sorry. That was an accident too."
He couldn't scare you. Not now. Not ever. You had so much trust in him; how could he even think of taking advantage of it?
But you were still soaking him, all the way along his length, and it felt so much like a tease that he wanted to start blaming you for it. That if anything happened it would be completely your fault.
Caleb hid his face against the crook of your neck, feeding kisses onto your skin while he continued humping his twitching cock against you.
He was still painfully hard. He ached. He went slow for the purpose of not getting ahead of himself. Just a few more strokes, and he'd stop. Depriving himself was nothing in the greater picture.
He loved you. He cherished you. He was your father. Your papa. He wouldn't hurt you.
He would never.
"Hah...I'm sorry, little one."
"Hm? What are you doing...?"
But even if he did, you'd still want him, right?
Caleb lifted your hips off the bed, prodded at your hole once more, and slid himself in. Beyond the tip this time, as he breached you without stopping, sheathing himself all the way inside you.
Your moan came out involuntarily, mixing more with the sounds of a scream as the pain spread across your womb, slipping through the cracks of your body where tears had begun to well up in your eyes. It was one pull out and a thrust back in that caused them to fall; slipping down your cheeks while you were thrashing around helplessly, shaking your head.
"Nonono- papa! Papa! You said you wouldn't! You p—romised-!"
What answered you was another thrust, hitting the beginning of your cervix, making you see white.
Papa's pace was merciless. He had you at ease within his grasp, using you at his own need. There was less reason in him than the papa you thought you knew. A deep desire, rooted in what defined the existence of sin. He cradled it together with you in his arms, against his chest.
You were always ever the most obedient with him. You allowed him to explore these urges up to a certain point before he realised he wanted more.
And for the longest time, he tried to make it work. These limitations that could keep you feeling safe. He tried. He really did, okay?
"Forgive me."
So what if he ended up breaking a few promises in the end? It wouldn't change the fact that in the end, he ignored your pleas for him to stop. In the end, he still filled your womb to the brim.
In the end, he was still the one who loved you the most in this world.
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