SAINT. TWENTY-PLUS. CHINESE. SHE / HER. XIA YIZHOU'S MEIMEI. HORROR ENTHUSIAST. DILF LOVER. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. NO. 1 FILTHY DEGENERATE. DON'T LIKE? DON'T READ. ONLY FOR CALEB. NO REQUESTS.
aside from the fact that he looks gorgeous, the hip thrust, and "baby sister", i'm genuinely so excited to dive into the lore of his myth. gegeleb/caleb lore in general ie "from the same flower stem/same source/blood relations" they're not even hiding the fact that they're relationship is meant to be this exact forbidden trope and i love how they're not holding back anymore.
please i can't wait to hear your thoughts on his myth 😭
- 🪼 (might go into cardiac arrest) (need caleb to hip thrust life back into me)
i remember crashing out so hard when that PV dropped because it was honestly so peak—they really said that it's okay if you hate pseudo, we're giving you full-blown incest instead lmao. they have always been two halves of the same whole ♡ i love how his third myth gave us that so blatantly at that too.
3,702 words * ˛ ✦ ･ "Knees," he commands, gesturing to the floor in front of him. "Daddy needs you to clean him up, little one. You made such a mess of me with all that squirming." She hesitates, her eyes dropping to his cock, which stands thick and heavy against his stomach, flushed dark with blood, the head already weeping precum. He sees her swallow, sees the fear and the fascination warring in her expression, and he reaches out to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her jawline with deceptive tenderness. "It's alright, baby," he murmurs. "I'll help you. Daddy always helps you, doesn't he? Just open that pretty mouth and let me do the work. You don't have to think. You don't have to do anything but take it. Can you do that for me?"
WARNINGS: third person pov (fem!reader), alternate universe – modern, significant age gap — reader is eighteen, size difference, heavy dubious consent, pseudocest (reader is adopted by caleb), daddy kink, bathroom sex (unprotected), praise, groping, nipple play, fingering, edging, throatfucking, overstimulation, breeding kink + creampie.
The bathroom is warm, humid, the air thick with steam that clings to every surface and turns the surface of the large mirror above the double vanity into something fogged.
Caleb has drawn the bath himself, monitoring the temperature carefully, as he applies to everything when it concerns his little girl—too hot and she'll flush and fuss, too cool and she'll shiver, and he wants neither.
He wants her pliant, relaxed, the heat sinking into her muscles until she's soft as warm wax in his hands.
She's already in the water when he enters, having undressed with the modesty she still clings to, the habit of covering herself that he finds both amusing and arousing. As if he hasn't seen everything already. As if he doesn't own every inch of her, whether she knows it yet or not. The water is milky with the bath oil he selected, something expensive and subtle, but he can see the curve of her spine through the distortion, the way she's drawn her knees up to her chest, making herself small; always so small.
This is his favourite shape for her.
He doesn't announce himself. Caleb simply begins to undress, watching her in the mirror's foggy reflection. She doesn't turn, but he sees her shoulders tense, knows she's aware of him. She always is. The air shifts when he enters a room; he's trained her to that sensitivity, to the weight of his presence. His shirt comes off first, revealing the terrain of his torso—scars and muscle, the silver-threaded hair that covers his chest and trails down in a line he knows she's stared at countless times when she thinks he isn't looking. His hands move to his belt, the leather whispering through the loops, and he hears the subtle catch in her breathing.
Good.
"Scoot forward, little one," he says, and his voice is the same rumble he uses for everything, low and expectant, brooking no argument.
And she does, the water sloshing gently, and he steps into the tub behind her, settling his bulk with a sigh that vibrates through the water between them. He's large enough that the displacement raises the level significantly, his knees bracketing her hips, his chest pressing against her back the moment he leans forward. She fits against him perfectly, the top of her head tucked beneath his chin, her shoulder blades sharp against his pectorals.
Caleb wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her flush, ignoring her small sound of surprise, settling her right where he wants her. "Relax, honey," he murmurs against her temple, his breath stirring the damp hair there. "Daddy's got you."
She shivers, and he feels it travel through her spine into his own chest, a ripple of sensation that makes his cock twitch where it's trapped between his stomach and the small of her back. He ignores it for now. There is a sequence to these things, a choreography he's been practising in his mind for years, and he will not rush it.
The waiting is its own kind of pleasure, the anticipation building like pressure behind a dam.
He reaches for the soap, a bar of French milled something, scented with lavender and something darker, muskier. He works it between his palms until the lather is thick and creamy, then sets the bar aside and brings his hands to her shoulders. She flinches, just barely, at the first contact—his hands are large, rough from years of work, and the contrast against her skin is stark. He presses his thumbs into the knots he finds there, kneading with firm, patient circles, feeling the tension slowly leach out of her.
"That's my good girl," he praises, his voice dropping an octave, becoming something intimate and heavy. "So tense, baby. Let Daddy take care of you. That's all you have to do. Just let me."
She makes a small sound, not quite words, and he smiles against her hair. He works his way down her arms, tracing the delicate bones of her wrists, the soft insides of her elbows, manipulating her limbs with the confidence of ownership. She lets him move her, lets him arrange her hands on the tub's edge, her arms extended, presenting her back to him like an offering. The position arches her spine, pushes her chest forward, and he can see the swell of her breasts breaking the surface of the water, her nipples tight from the contrast of warm water and cooler air.
Caleb's hands return to her sides, sliding up from her hips with deliberate slowness, mapping the flare of her ribs, the dip of her waist. He's touching her the way he might handle something precious and fragile, something he's paid dearly for.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his mouth close to her ear, his breath hot against her wet skin. "Look how you've grown, baby. Daddy remembers when you were just a little thing, all bones and worry. And now," he trails off, his hands sliding upward, cupping the weight of her breasts for the first time, and he feels her gasp, feels the way she tries to pull away before his grip tightens, pinning her against his chest. "Now you're so full. So soft. My perfect little girl, growing up just right for me."
He squeezes, not gently, kneading the flesh with a proprietary roughness that makes her whimper. Her breasts are exactly as he imagined them—perfect and warm, the nipples pebbled hard against his palms. He rolls them between his fingers, tugging and twisting until she's squirming, her movements doing nothing but grinding her back against his erection, which has grown thick and insistent where it's trapped between them.
"Shh, shh," he soothes, even as his grip becomes crueller, his fingers digging into the tender flesh, leaving red marks that will bloom into bruises by morning. "Don't fight it, sweetheart. This is what Daddy's for. You want to be good for me, hm? You want to make Daddy happy?"
She nods, frantic, her head bobbing against his shoulder, and he rewards her with a sharp pinch to both nipples simultaneously, pulling a cry from her throat that echoes off the tiled walls. He holds the pressure, stretching the sensitive buds, feeling her arch and writhe, the water splashing over the sides of the tub in her distress. The sound of her pain, the feel of her struggling against him—it sends a jolt of pure lust through his groin, and he grinds upward, pinning her more firmly against him.
"Such a good girl," he croons, releasing her nipples only to immediately soothe them with rough circles of his thumbs that makes her sob. "Taking it so well. Daddy's proud of you, baby; so fucking proud. You wear my hands so well, little one. Such a pretty girl."
Caleb keeps one hand occupied with her breast, kneading and pinching relentlessly, while the other slides down her stomach, tracing the curve of her navel, dipping lower.
She tries to close her legs, a reflexive gesture of modesty that makes him chuckle darkly against her neck. "None of that," he scolds gently, his fingers insistent as they push between her thighs, finding her slick and hot despite her protests, or perhaps because of them. "This is mine, remember? All of this. Daddy gets to touch what belongs to him. And you do belong to me, don't you, baby? Say it."
"I-I," her voice is breathless, broken, and he feels her struggle between her mind and her body, between what she thinks she should say and what he wants to hear.
He helps her decide by thrusting two fingers inside her without warning, curling them to find the spot that makes her see stars, and she cries out, her head falling back against his shoulder. "Say it," he commands, his voice still soft, still wrapped in that mockingly gentle tone that makes every word a caress and a threat.
"Yours," she gasps, her hips bucking involuntarily into his hand. "D-Daddy, I'm yours."
"Good girl," he praises, and there's genuine warmth in it, the satisfaction of a man who has trained his daughter well. "Such a good, obedient little thing. Daddy's going to take such good care of you. Better than anyone else ever could. You know that, don't you? You know no one else will ever love you like this. No one else will ever know what you need."
Caleb works her with his fingers, rough and relentless, keeping her on the edge but never letting her fall over. He knows exactly how to touch her to make her beg, exactly when to back off to leave her whining and frustrated. The power of it thrums through him, heady as any drug, the absolute control he wields over her pleasure, her pain, her very consciousness. But he has other plans for tonight, and his own need is becoming insistent, a heavy pulse in his groin that demands attention.
He withdraws his fingers slowly, deliberately, bringing them to his mouth to taste her while she watches with wide, shocked eyes. He sucks them clean, humming his appreciation, then grips her chin with his wet hand, turning her face toward his.
"Time to get out, baby," he says, and there's no room for negotiation in his tone. "Daddy's not done with you yet. Not even close."
He stands, water cascading off his body in sheets, and reaches down to lift her. She comes up easily—she's so light, so small, and the ease with which he handles her never fails to satisfy something inside him. He sets her on the bath mat, not bothering with a towel, watching the water stream down her body, highlighting every curve, every vulnerability. She tries to cover herself, arms crossing over her chest, and he clicks his tongue, reaching out to pull them away with enough force to make her sway.
"No hiding," he says firmly. "Not from me. Never from me."
Caleb steps out of the tub, towering over her, and she has to crane her neck to look up at him. The difference in their statute has always pleased him—he could crush her if he wanted to, and the knowledge that he doesn't, that he chooses gentleness when he could choose violence, is part of the game.
"Knees," he commands, gesturing to the floor in front of him. "Daddy needs you to clean him up, little one. You made such a mess of me with all that squirming."
She hesitates, her eyes dropping to his cock, which stands thick and heavy against his stomach, flushed dark with blood, the head already weeping precum. He sees her swallow, sees the fear and the fascination warring in her expression, and he reaches out to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her jawline with deceptive tenderness. "It's alright, baby," he murmurs. "I'll help you. Daddy always helps you, doesn't he? Just open that pretty mouth and let me do the work. You don't have to think. You don't have to do anything but take it. Can you do that for me?"
Her head nods, and she sinks to her knees on the plush mat; while Caleb positions himself in front of her, one hand wrapping around the base of his shaft, the other threading through her wet hair. He guides the head to her lips, painting them with his arousal, smearing it across her chin and cheeks, marking her with his scent.
"Such a pretty girl," he groans, his hips already rocking forward with small, impatient thrusts. "Look at you, all naked and wet and ready for me. Daddy's favourite little girl. Open up, baby. Let me in."
She parts her lips, just barely, and he takes it as invitation. He pushes forward, slow but inexorable, feeling the wet heat of her mouth envelop him, the tentative flick of her tongue. It's good—she's warm and soft and hesitant in a way that makes him want to ruin her—but it's not enough.
His patience, never his strong suit when it comes to this, snaps like a dry twig.
Caleb's hand tightens in her hair, gripping hard enough to make her yelp, and he pulls her forward while thrusting his hips, burying himself to the root in one smooth motion. She gags immediately, her throat convulsing around him, her hands coming up to push against his thighs.
He ignores her struggles, holding her there, feeling the spasms of her throat milking him, the tears that spring to her eyes and stream down her face mixing with the bathwater still clinging to her skin.
"That's it," he grunts, his head falling back, his hips setting a brutal rhythm. "Take it, baby. Take Daddy's cock like a good little girl. You can do it. I know you can. Just relax that throat and let me use you. That's all you're good for right now, isn't it? Your mouth is just a warm hole for Daddy to fuck."
He fucks her face with single-minded intensity, not giving her time to breathe, to recover, to do anything but react to his thrusts. He watches her through half-lidded eyes, cataloguing every choke, every tear, every time her nails dig into his thighs hard enough to leave crescents. The pain only spurs him on, makes him harder, makes him rougher. He uses her hair as a handle, pulling her onto him, yanking her back when he wants to see her face, flushed and ruined and desperate.
"Look at you," Caleb mocks, his voice strained with his own pleasure, the words coming out in harsh bursts between thrusts. "Drooling all over yourself. Can't even breathe without Daddy's help. Such a dumb little thing when I've got my cock in you. Can't think, can you? Can't do anything but feel. That's right, baby. Don't think. Just take it. Take it and be good."
She's making sounds now, desperate, guttural noises that vibrate around him, and he can feel his orgasm building at the base of his spine, a heavy, inevitable weight. He wants to make it last, wants to keep her like this for hours, but the sight of her, so small and overwhelmed and his, is too much. His thrusts become erratic, savage, and he holds her head still with both hands, forcing himself as deep as he can go, feeling her nose press against his stomach, her throat working frantically around him.
"Swallow," he commands, his voice a growl. "Swallow it all, baby. Don't you dare spill a drop. Daddy's good little girl takes it all."
He cums with a shout that echoes off the tiles, pulsing down her throat in thick, hot spurts. He can feel her swallowing convulsively, feel the way she tries to pull back and the way he holds her firm, making sure she takes every last drop.
When he's finally spent, he pulls out slowly, watching his cock emerge wet and glistening from her ruined mouth, watching her gasp for air, cough, tears and drool and cum streaming down her face.
Caleb doesn't give her time to recover. He's still hard—he has the stamina of a man who denied himself, saving it all for her—and the sight of her, so debased and vulnerable, has him aching for more. He reaches down, gripping her under the arms, and hauls her to her feet as if she weighs nothing. She stumbles, dizzy, and he catches her, spinning her around and marching her toward the vanity.
"Bend over," he orders, his hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her down until her chest is flat against the cool marble, her cheek pressed to the stone. "Ass up, baby. Daddy's not finished with you."
She whimpers, trying to push herself up, but he holds her down with a hand on the back of her neck, his thumb pressing against her pulse point, feeling the frantic hammering of her heart. With his other hand, he grips her hip, positioning her exactly where he wants her, her legs spread wide, her cunt exposed and dripping—not just water now, but her own arousal, the evidence of her body's betrayal slick on her thighs.
"P-Please," she manages, her voice hoarse from the throat-fucking, barely audible. "Daddy, please, I can't—"
"You can," he interrupts, positioning himself at her entrance, notching the head of his cock against her tight hole. "And you will. Because I said so. Because you're mine. And because you want it, don't you, baby? Even if your pretty little mouth says no, this," he thrusts forward, just the head breaching her, feeling her stretch around him, feeling her cry out at the sudden intrusion, "this pussy says yes. So wet for me. So ready. You were made for this, little one. Made to take Daddy's cock. Made to be filled up and fucked stupid."
Caleb doesn't wait for her to adjust. He doesn't prepare her, doesn't stretch her, doesn't do anything but grip her hips in his large, rough hands and thrust forward with all his strength, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke.
She wails, her body arching off the counter, but he holds her down, his weight pressing her into the marble, his cock throbbing inside her tight, clenching heat.
"Fuck," he groans, his head falling back, his eyes squeezing shut at the sheer perfection of it. "So tight, baby. So fucking tight. You feel that? Feel how you fit me? Like you were made for me. Like I've been waiting my whole life to get inside this little cunt and claim it."
She's sobbing now, her hands scrabbling at the vanity's edge, trying to find purchase, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation of being split open on his cock. But he's relentless, setting a punishing pace, pulling out almost to the tip before slamming back in, each thrust forcing the air from her lungs in sharp cries. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the bathroom, wet and obscene, mixing with her sobs and his grunts and the broken, praise-filled words he keeps murmuring.
"Good girl," he pants, his hips snapping forward, his grip on her hips bruising. "Such a good little fucktoy. Taking it so well. Daddy's proud of you, baby. So proud. Look at you, bent over and stuffed full of my cock. Just where you belong. Just how you were meant to be."
He reaches around her, his hand finding her breast where it's pressed against the counter, and he squeezes cruelly, pinching the nipple and pulling, using it as leverage to fuck her harder. She sobs, her body convulsing around him, and he feels the flutter of her orgasm, the way her cunt tries to milk him, and he laughs.
"That's it," Caleb encourages, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Cum for Daddy, baby. Cum on my cock like the dumb little thing you are. Can't think, can you? Can't do anything but feel me inside you, filling you up, fucking you raw. That's it. Let go. Be good and let go for me."
She cums with a wail, her body going limp beneath him, her cunt clamping down so hard he sees stars. But he doesn't stop. He's been planning this for too long, waiting for too long, and one orgasm isn't enough. He wants her wrung out, boneless, unable to do anything but take what he gives her. He keeps fucking her through her climax, his thrusts becoming savage, animalistic, the sound of their bodies meeting loud and wet and filthy.
"Again," he demands, his hand sliding down to find her clit, rubbing it in rough, merciless circles. "Again, baby. Give me another one. I know you can. I know you've got more for Daddy. Come on, little one."
She's incoherent now, babbling nonsense, pleas and sobs and broken versions of his name, and he drinks it in, every sound, every tremor, every time she tries to squirm away and he holds her firm, pinning her exactly where he wants her. He can feel his own orgasm building again, a heavy pressure at the base of his spine, his balls drawing up tight against his body. He wants to fill her, wants to mark her from the inside, wants to breed her like he's been fantasizing about for years.
"P-Please," she whimpers, her voice barely a thread of sound. "Daddy, please, i-it's too much, I-I can't—"
"You can," he interrupts, his thrusts becoming erratic, savage. "You're going to take it, baby. Going to take every drop. Going to let Daddy fill you up, aren't you? Going to let me put a baby in this little belly. That's what you want, isn't it? Even if you don't know it yet. That's what you're made for, to be mine."
Caleb cums with a roar that seems to shake the room, his hips jerking forward, burying himself as deep as he can go, pulsing thick and hot inside her. He can feel it, the rush of his release filling her, overflowing, dripping down her thighs in obscene rivulets. He stays there, pressed against her, his weight holding her down, his cock still twitching, still spurting, making sure every drop stays inside her womb where it belongs.
"Good girl," he breathes, his mouth against her ear, his hand stroking her hair with a tenderness that contrasts sharply with how he just took her. "Such a good, perfect little girl. Daddy's got you. Daddy's always got you. Just rest now, baby. Just let me hold you. Let me keep you. Let me love you."
He stays inside her until he's soft, until he's sure every last drop is sealed inside her, until she's limp and pliant beneath him, her breathing shallow and her eyes glazed.
Only then does he pull out, watching with satisfaction as his seed spills out of her, thick and white, marking her thighs, dripping onto the floor. He reaches down, scooping some up with his fingers, and pushes it back inside her, keeping her full, keeping her marked.
"Mine," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, her neck, her tear-stained cheek. "All mine. Forever, baby. No one else's. Just Daddy's little girl forever."
SAINT'S NOTES ! and with that, we can finally close the anthology of fathers. it was a wild ride, genuinely; i started this series not knowing what's going to happen with my life while waiting for my board exam results, and now, i have a license and i'm in my master's degree program. this was originally posted in the server on april 26. i'll be posting a one-shot or two before the month ends, since june is going to be caleb and mine's birth month, we'll be having a celebratory series for all love interests.
hoping to finish editing my new fic tomorrow for the server so i can also post the final part of the anthology here; because my classes for my master's start on saturday too, so i'm not a free bird anymore </3
just wanted to drip in cause i've been sick so i need caleb's third myth to drop NOW and make me feel better 😔
on another note, i was scrolling your recent posts and saw you passed your exam! and posted more yummy dadleb fics! your work always makes me feel giddy and so grateful we get masterpieces from you, all the while you're out here getting licensed, we love stem girlies 🙂↕️ i'm (affectionately) fascinated by your brain, i'd love to take a peek inside 👀🩷
- 🪼
i hope you felt better rather quickly :(( being sick is the worst ever, it always leaves you feeling blegh when you wake.
actually ... i do have a confession about my license ... i went into the exam hall with only four-days of casual browsing despite being enrolled in a review/tutoring hub since october; my expectations were down the drain with those exams (i had six exams for two consecutive days), but i guess ! writing did help me destress a lot from the paranoia of it all that i passed ! peeking into my brain might get you lost inside it though </3 there's a lot going in there that i don't even know half the time.
I know you write a lot of dad Caleb and daughter reader, but do you potentially plan to write it the other way (mom reader and son caleb)? It’s something I’d like to see from you if you’re comfortable!!
while this is certainly an interesting trope, i don't think i will be writing anything similar to this in the foreseeable future—but maybe, when the inspiration strikes, i might try my hand on this one !
so tired of new gens not being able to comprehend “don’t like, don’t read”
i too dislike content in fics and u know what i do? click off cause i have better shit to do and other fics to find that i’ll enjoy 💀
everything is a personal attack to them, their morals, and their entire life story; teaching them about "don't like, don't read" is like telling a baby to do twenty cartwheels in a row because their level of comprehension is down the dumpster.
HELLO OMG i can't believe i opened my notifs and saw that we are mutuals (did you mean to follow me hahaha was it an accident,, the skyizhou following lil ol' me is hard to believe)
i love your writing so much,, i've been hooked ever since i discovered your blog !!
hi, pretty ♡ the follow was definitely intentional ! i follow back if i check on someone's blog and decide that i fuck well with the content they post; your whole blog is so sweetheart vibes, i'm actually getting cuteness aggression again—
thank you, my darling emmy ♡ all my tears for this license were worth it, i guess. how have you been 🥺 i hope the first-half of 2026 has been treating you with kindness and joy !
hear me out,,,, brother caleb that lets you have boyfriends, only for him to sabotage all your relationships so you can come to him to give what you need :(( you don’t know that he threatened all of your boyfriends to not touch you, so you become sexually frustrated and he is more than happy to help you with that! after all, he is the only man you ever need; that’s what you concluded after all your failed relationships…or is it the result of your brother’s perfectly crafted plan?🫣
the funny thing about this ... this is actually what's been living in my head for the "canon" timeline of calebmc, because he will not be able to stand even the idea of anyone else touching his precious baby sister that he'll do everything to stop it; if it furthers our dependency on him, then even better !
