A/N: D/S? I think? I’ve never done... this kind of writing.
The little redhead at the end of your bed was just dying to please someone, anyone. She mostly shoved it off onto her boss, but since meeting you, you’d taken on the burden. She did better at work, so much so she was promoted. More time for you two.
She knelt on the chest covered in a soft pillow you placed on it for her. Oh, and she was naked.
While you... read the most recent Harry Potter for the millionth time. You’d promised the redhead she’d get the reward of a lifetime if she could handle not being touched or complaining until you finished five chapters. McGonagall told Peeves how the chandelier unscrewed and you let out a peal of laughter.
Emily Charlton, former first assistant to Miranda Priestly, one of the only ones to be promoted from within, the most hard-bitch-faced, spine made of stone, let out a shrill whine, shifting on her pillow. You looked for where your ending bookmark was placed. The redhead hadn’t even made it three chapters.
With a heavy sigh, you were bored with the book and set it aside. You moved to your knees, grabbing your girlfriend and pushing her onto the sheets beneath you. Your fingertips sought her clit immediately. “Poor little Emily.” You held her bottom lip between your teeth, pulling gently before letting it drop into her pout. “The real one. Can’t even take a few hours without the attention of her older mistress.” You smirked wickedly, going in for another kiss.
She let out another whine, pouting harder at the implication that she was crushing on her boss. She was, who wouldn’t be, but you were having it.
You held a firm, not tight, grip on her throat. “I thought you wanted to please me. Instead you just complain.” You leveled her with a disappointing glare.
Another whine.
Your rolled your disappointed eyes, muttering, “Oh, for goodness sake” before plunging three digits into her core. She took you easily, the desperate Brit. Her velvet walls shook against you, but widened to suck you in. Her heat had half a mind to never let you leave. You grabbed your book once more and slide it under her with a murmured command. She’s as a higher angle, moaning with every thrust. You replaced your fingers on her clit with your mouth, using your teeth to massage her bundle of nerves. Your tongue flicked over her nub and your fingers curled up. She couldn’t make the whole five chapters or you would have dragged it out more. She was more of the instant gratification type anyway. Emily’s hazel eyes tipped back and her walls clamped down on you. She worked your fingers as much as they worked her cunt. She bowed backwards briefly before collapsing onto your sheets.
Groaning exaggeratedly, you pulled your book out from under her, continuing reading from your position on the end of the bed. You leaned against one of your four posters, licking your finger, your mouth still wet from her, and turned the page casually.
Today was Mother’s Day, and my thoughts wandered—not just to the mothers I know, but to the idea of myself becoming one. I imagined what it might feel like to carry two hearts in one body, to grow life within me, to meet a child who is part of me. Would I be gentle? Would I be strong enough? Would my children feel safe in my love, and would they love me back?
Indonesian Mother's Day: The Way I Deal With Mother Complex
It’s December 22nd. It’s mother’s day here in Indonesia, and I just fought with my mom via instant messenger and phone calls.
Fighting with my mom is like fighting with the raw version of my self. Self-centered. Snob. Hard-headed. Loud. Ego and pride the size of GBK. Interesting.
Makes me kinda proud of what I’ve achieved this far managing my ego and character flaws.
Moral of the story: you are never just one thing, and nothing is impossible.
I thought this image was way too cute, but geez what a little shit that son is. XD Thanks to dustlucky for finding this for me. If anyone knows the source of the original artwork, please tell me! I’d love to give proper credit.
