Romans & histoires Daddy Issues

“Tell me, did he allow you to call him by his real name? Have you always called him that way?” Though she didn’t understand the meaning behind her mother’s question, the truth was that she had always called him by his real name. So Emma nodded slightly. But what did it matter? Why would it anger her mother so much? Ever since that first night when he forced himself upon her, Emma no longer saw Damien as a father. If not for coercion, she would never have called him “father.” Yet she could not stay mute when facing him either.

"He swore his vows in the shadows. He reminded me that the cage doesn't matter, Daddy. The key is in my hand." The word "Daddy"—used not as endearment, but as a provocation—was a blade. Mark roared, a sound torn from his chest, and slammed me against the cold glass again. He drove into me, hard and fast, fully clothed and unforgiving. It was a violation of the clean space, a desecration of his own immaculate life.

He had this day all planned out before his father knocked on his door and ruined all of his plans. “Sorry son,” he’d said, smiling apologetically, “I need a bit of help today. It shouldn’t take too long, I just need you to pop round to one of my clients and check on a few things.” “But Dad,” Tom had replied, his heart sinking, “I had plans for today.” “You can see Stacey later, Tom. This is important.” Tom sighed. “Sure thing, dad. I’ll get right on it.”

Yet every time our eyes met across the room, the heat that passed between us carried the full memory of everything we had done upstairs and the promise of everything we would do the next time the house emptied and the locked doors gave us the space to take it again. The pattern repeated itself through the following days with a consistency that began to feel almost inevitable. Another long shift. Another locked door. Another stretch of hours in which the only language between us was the press of skin and the wet sound of him moving inside me. One evening he found me in the hallway after my mother had left and the moment the door closed behind her car he backed me against the wall and lifted o

His eyes caught one and he asked, “How about we play, ‘just dance’ together” Curtis looked at him with wide eyes. Uncle Adam never liked that game and said it was because he didn’t know how to dance and meeting his daddy for the first time, he didn’t look like a man who could dance either so the suggestion amazed the little boy and he asked, “Daddy, can you dance?” “Yeah, Daddy can dance very well,” Cooper was quick to respond since he danced with his father a lot during birthdays and even with kid games such as these.

he whispered against my ear, his voice rough and low. I heaved a breath. My heart was thundering in my chest. "I'm sorry, Daddy," I said. "But—" "Shhh. There is no but." He placed his thumb over my lips, silencing me. His gaze drifted down my naked chest, his eyes widening. "Look at you. Your nipples are already so hard for me. You want this just as bad as I do." "I…," I breathed, my hands resting against his bare chest. It was always like this. No matter how much we fought, one touch from him destroyed my defense. I was addicted to the danger of him.

“I honestly can’t answer that for them sweetheart, that’s something you’re going to have to ask yourself. I do know that no matter where your daddy Maleek lives, he’s always going to take care of and be there for you, okay?” “Ms. Edily, are my daddy’s fighting about you again?” Ouch. The adolescent words stung. I didn’t quite know how to take what she had asked or how to go about answering. I did know I felt slighted and frustrated; my relationship with Maleek had become the negative focal point of this child’s life. “They’re having grown up issues Brianna honey and I don’t think your daddies would like for you to worry about why they’re having grown up issues.”

Right? She isn't. Actually. I begin to ask her what the fuck. And about custody; you know? that thing that happens in white movies where two adults break up and they have to fight over who the children stay with. I want to ask how come there was no issue over that. And even though I'm relieved there wasn't any fight over Tobi and I, I feel irritated. Aren't we worth fighting for? But then again, we are talking about Daddy here. When has he cared? The answer: Never.

"Tommy's daddy travels for work, and he comes home every Friday. Daddy's been gone for three weeks." Emma sat down across from her daughter, searching for words that would be honest but not terrifying. "Daddy and I are having some problems we need to work out." "What kind of problems?" "Grown-up problems. About how we talk to each other and make decisions together." Charlotte considered this seriously. "Are you getting divorced?" "I don't know, baby. I hope not." "I hope not too. I don't want to move houses like Sophie did." Emma's heart clenched. "Charlotte, even if Daddy and I have problems, we both love you and Frankie more than anything in the world. That will never change."

“Daddy can explain all that happened. You know that Daddy is sick too right? Daddy also has heart issues like Rosie and that day, Daddy had a breakdown. Before Daddy recovers, little Sie Sie is gone with Mommy. Daddy didn't lie, really.” Hearing her father's explanation, the child paused for a while and looked at him. He was contemplating whether to believe him or not. On one hand, she honestly wants to but on the other, she is scared that he is lying and eventually, he will leave her again. She doesn't want that as the heart of herself and her mother will not be able to take it. “I don't want to believe you.” “You should. Do you know how much Daddy misses you? Here,” he dipped his hands int