#mother complex

Sisters who see the parts of their mother they miss the most in each other.

Little sis who sees the radiance of her mom's smile in her older sis

Older sis who sees the way their mom used to quietly watch movies

Little sis who feels their mother's warmth when she's held by her big sis at night

Older sis who uses trauma nightmares as an excuse to hold her little sis and smell her hair because she uses the same shampoo mom used to

Sisters who kiss and remember how soft their mom's lips were

Older sis who can't stop herself from going too far and fingering her sister's cunt

Little sis who closes her eyes and lets the hot breath wash over her

Sisters who writhe in bed together, calling out for their mother as they hump and grind against each other's fingers until they come.

Sisters who slowly forget each other's names and call each other by their mother's name.

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. 

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.