You're Just Like Papa Novels & Stories

Around the campfire, our friends swayed to the rhythm, their voices joining in a heartfelt chorus that echoed through the night. As Julius sang, his voice filled with emotion and love, Star felt her heart overflowing with happiness and sang along. Like a mother worried 'bout her daughter I'll be there, no matter the water Through the storms, I'll keep you safe and sound In my arms, you'll always be found Like a mother worried 'bout her daughter Like a father tries to direct his son I'll guide you through life's twists and turns With love that never comes undone Just like a father teaching his boy to stand tall

I can hear the Void; a vast, hollow hunger that sounds like a wind whistling through a graveyard and then there is the land, which just sounds like a question. “Papa?” I say, looking up at him. He looks like a statue made of iron and scars. He’s staring into the dark, ready to break anyone who reaches for me. “Why is my life like this? Why do they all want me so much?” Papa doesn't move his eyes from the shadows, but his hand drops to rest on my head for a second. “Because you are a spark in a world that has grown very, very dark, Kenny. People want to own the light so they don't have to be afraid of the night.”

He asked. “I do not ‘think’ so, father. I know it.” His expression contorted so badly, I wanted to laugh. “Why do you make that face? Does it sound silly?” “N – no but in times like this – you are very much like your mother, Persephone. Even if you never met her, you are very much like her.” It was a compliment of the highest order from my father whose right was my mother and everything else was wrong. For me to be like her meant he saw me as good enough at least.

I placed a hand on his shoulder, he seemed to be lost in his mind just like me. He turned to face me, still wearing his suit from the morning. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.” He nodded, an expression on his face that I haven’t seen before. I cupped his cheek. “What is it? What are you thinking? Share with your Mama, won’t you?” He sighed. “You know what papa called you when I asked how much he loves you and dad?” “What?” I asked, already a smile forming on my face. “He said that Dad was like a moon, bright even in the darkness. That he calls him little shadow because even if he can't see it, it's always there. And he called you the sun because he always wanted something that could make

“You’re gonna give him a complex.” Papa looked up at me, eyes twinkling. “He already has one.” “Speaking of complexes,” I said, crossing my arms. “You kept Liam from me.” Papa winced. “I was following orders.” “Uh-huh,” I said, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Still love you. But next time, maybe don’t treat me like I’m made of glass.” “Not glass,” he said. “Molten lava.” “Exactly,” I said, grinning.

His cock was thick, and perfect, filling me in ways no boy my age ever could. He smirked, his thumb circling my clit through the fabric. "That's my girl. Always so eager. But let's talk first. I like hearing your voice, how it shakes when you're turned on." He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto mine. "Tell me about your day. Did those college boys hit on you again?" I squirmed under his touch, wanting more but knowing he loved drawing it out. "Yeah, a couple tried. But they're nothing like you, Daddy. They're clumsy and immature. I just smiled and walked away, thinking about how you'd handle them if you knew."

The door opened before I could knock. Papa stood there in black, naturally, because apparently he remained committed to dressing like grief became fashionable and never went out of season. His eyes swept over me, then Darren, then Lando, then back to me. “You are my only son,” Papa said flatly, his tone dry as old bones. “And even if you were not, I do not do favorites.” I gasped, clutching my chest. “On Father’s Day? You wound me, Papa. In front of my mate and child, no less.”

That is also the reason why I always got papa's approval for the things that I do. Although I badly want to be like mama, I already accepted the fact that I will never be. I already accepted that this is me. I once tried to change myself just to be like mama, but I end up frustrated and crying because I can't contain the character I am trying to build. That's the time when papa told me the thing I needed to hear the most during those times.

But in my heart I know, you are more like me. Just like the love your father and I shared, I pray you find love one day that will make you as strong as it made us. Remember that I will always love you, La Niña. Your father loves you just as much, and sometimes when I watch him carry you in his arms, I think that perhaps he loves you more than I. But it is because you are just like me. Which means you are strong. Always in your heart, Mamá’

She said I pulled back. "I don't know about everyone. But I know one thing: there is no one like you. You are the only piece that Lord has made in a limited edition." I expressed my voice out and Mom again laughed. "You are just like your Father. He also says the same as you." Mom slapped my arm but by then my mood was already ruined hearing his name. Though I hate him the most, I'm just like him. His ditto copy and I hate it. Why on earth am I like him?