Photo reblogged from gentle kama
(via imgTumble)Maybe….. I’m just going to post this here, then pretend I didn’t.
She got an illicit thrill from calling him ‘Daddy’. The words would fall from her mouth with the slightest break in her voice, as if she was admitting a little secret, and a shiver would run through her body. They were moments she savoured.
But when she dressed up for him, with that in mind, that shiver ran through her uninterrupted. When she felt the pigtails brush against her shoulders, the thought would flash across her mind, that single word, that single feeling. An illicit thrill.
And when he looked at her, dressed like that, the feeling was amplified as if through a microscope, everything too big and powerful to fathom. It was that that she sought, above all else. That feeling of being completely minuscule while at the same time the centre of his entire world. Adorable, and adored.
And then she’d call him ‘Daddy’, he’d smile, and she’d melt.