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lottiesticklishpickle · 1 month

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𝐻𝐸𝐴𝐷𝐶𝐴𝑁𝑂𝑁 ₁

𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑘𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠:

ted logan —

type of guy:

sweet lovey-dovey dork, this himbo will be all over the place

as soon as bill mentions valentines day, all the hairs on his body just stand

the thought of him being so lovey cringes him out but he's just can't remove the obsession with you.

he's so tooth-rottenly cute, when you're around him, he just don't know what to do with himself. you approaching him is like him seeing an alien. either runs away or just freezes and breaks a sweat when you talk to him.

you’re his brainrot and ted's just sadistically a victim to it, completely wrapped around your fingers

musters up the courage and makes it his objective to make the most excellent v-day ever

creating planning boards in his room, preparation talks with Bill, lowkey stalking you at school

saves up every penny in his piggy bank, not wasting a single dollar

reads up on things on what girls would like

love language is quality time and words of affirmation

valentines plans:

excellent adventure ted— you first spend the day on an afternoon at an arcade; you and ted wearing casual formal outfits (ted in his tuxedo and converses, you in a dress and sneakers), playing on all of the arcade machines, giggling, screaming and laughing and goofing around.

he then takes you to his favourite spot by the Circle K, chilling down on the pavement. playing some UNO/tells you his wild adventure stories/jamming out to punk & pop rock on his speaker, sitting and eating slushies and a hot dog

after the arcade, he takes you to a diner, ordering a classic American meal (two burgers, fries, onion rings, two milkshakes with the extra cream & a cherry-on-top)

finishes the date with a trip back to Bill's, awaiting a heartwarming surprise (aka the anticipated secret)

he cutely takes your hand and sits you down on a chair, closing your eyes whilst you wait. 5 minutes later, you take them off at his command, waterworks immediately start to run as you look at the sight infront of you.

ted, with his guitar, announces his special song for you.

hands begin to strum on the guitar, puppy loving eyes gazing into yours, heartfully. ted serenades you with a sweet melody, accompanied by his surprisingly sweet voice

in the garage that's decorated in cutesy heart decor; red and pink balloons and banners all over the place, you feel as if you're in a safe haven, enchanted away here by your adorable, innocent boyfriend

mid performance, ted brings you up to the stage, twirling you around and then dancing with you. his big BFG self towers over you, slowly rocks your body and embraces you tight with his bulky arms. leaning in his head, ted finally caresses your face and kisses you— signing off the most excellent Valentines day ever. . .

bogus journey ted— either takes you to the movies or rents a movie at the local blockbuster, so he can watch with you in his apartment

for the outing, he takes you to the movies to watch a cheap chick flick he thinks you'd like; popcorn, nachos and a big shake

at home, he puts on a sci-fi movie, both stuffing down on a large pepperoni pizza, watching contently

afterwards, you kick back and relax for a long smoke sesh, getting high on some good weed whilst he puts an arm around you, nestling and cuddling with you close

he'll definitely brings out a guitar and sing to you, smoking a spliff that still rests between his lips (typical lightskin moment)

one way or another in ol' netflix and chill fashion, the night ends with ted loving on your body— giving you the most ultimate rocker boy finale his bodacious girl needs . . .

face the music ted— buys two VIP tickets, for the both of you, to a summer rock festival across state; booking an all-inclusive hotel nearby so you and him can rest in with convenience (away from the kids)

packs all the necessities— snacks, water, a pack of beer, foldable chairs, portable fans, sunscreen, a pair of sunglasses, and a charging bank

you both get to the airport, getting on a plane and travelling off into the concert place

arriving at the hotel; you unlock and enter your room— spacious king-sized double bed, tv, automated bathroom and a great view outside the window. the hotel has an all-you-can-buffet that you never forget to not miss

following the next day, you dress up for the concert; you wear a house of sunny 'lemons on a plate' dress with yellow sandals, and ted wears a white t shirt and cargo shorts, styling up with sandals and a hat

for the whole three days, you and ted rock out to live iconic rock music. screaming, jumping, and partying; dancing like you never you could

golden retriever ted watches out for you; handing you snacks, cleaning after you, supplying water, emergency hugs, cheering you up

breaks into a chuckle and laughs when he catches your boomer self taking videos and pictures, uploading them onto facebook and instagram ('me and hubby @/tedtheologan rocking out at the _____ festival! party on, dudes ! 😎🤩😀😍😆❤️👩‍❤️‍👨💍⚡️🤘🤙🎫🏴‍☠️🎸❤ #____festival #summer #sunny #fun #mostexcellent #smiley #happy #happyvalentinesday #rockfestival #yolo #youngforever #foreveryoung #tb #throwback #80s #1988 #2024 #thenvsnow #wyldstallyns #mosttriumphant #rockmusic #date #valentines #couple #airguitar #happy36thyearanniversary')

last night of the festival ends with a colourful night show, fireworks lighting up and crackling the night sky. under the bright lights, ted takes your hand and holds them. warm, tall body pressed against yours, he gazes down on you with such love. gently caresses your face, hazel orbs boring into yours, rubbing the small of your back soothingly. he closes in and kisses you on the lips, passionately making out with you

the fireworks continuously keep lighting up in the background, looking like a happy ending straight out of a movie.

type of gifts:

handmade stuff: arts and craft/DIY cards with cute stickers, colourful glitter, ribbons and drawings (imagine him getting glue all over his fingers and hands, big 6'1 self hunched over his little creations uwu)— gifts you a teddy bear and says something along the lines of: "babe, i got you this teddy bear, even though i'm, like, totally your teddy bear... and my name is Ted!", some candies, 'girly stuff' like makeup, "..because you're a babe and all..", a handwritten song personally made for you (with the help of wingman Bill), tulips and roses he got from his England expedition, an antique necklace he got from his Greece expedition, heart-shaped chocolates, some tapes and vinyls of your favourite music

john constantine —

type of guy:

typically indifferent

depressingly and callously cynical

not the one to be celebrating stuff like that, but he'll do what it takes to make you happy

he knows it's still worth it, just as long as it's with you

love language is gift giving and physical touch

valentines plans:

literally remembers ON the day, springing up from bed and bolting outside. goes to like 30 different stores, searching for the best presents he can find

runs back home with last minute stuff before the sunset. doorbell suddenly rings and john opens up, smiling as he sees the love of his life, you all prettied up in a cherry red dress, heels and matte makeup (something is bulging...)

you and john get in the car and he drives you out to a late night dinner, only to be met with disappointment when the restaurant he spoke to earlier informs him that the reservations are all booked up

sighing in devastation, john bows his head and shakes disapprovingly. he looks up to give you a weak smile and rubs your back reassuringly, gesturing you to head back inside the car. the both of you drive back to his, decidedly opting for some Chinese

you both head back to his, decidedly opting on some Chinese

john resumes back to finishing the set up of the living room; red candles and roses on the coffee table

impromptu date begins: candle lit dinner in front of the tv, you both drink some wine and eat some takeout, watching a random movie

finishing up, you doze off asleep, snoring on his lap

john still watches the tv, glancing down on you every 5 minutes. he wraps a warm cloth around you, resting a hand on your back. the urge of him to kiss you is burning him alive but he remains neutral.

he's upset that the day has been ruined, the one thing that he could've gotten right all slipped and fell out of his fingers. his callous self for once actually cares about something, something he originally thought was 'insignificant', something he wished it could've gone more better

even though the day didn't go out as planned, you've insisted that it's not too bad—grateful for the date overall. it's small and disorganised, but as least it's something, , as least it all ended with him

types of gifts:

silver antique jewellery, a card, giant teddy bear, a box of chocolates, and roses

john wick —

type of guy:

DILF, DILF, DILF

valentines day with baba yaga?!

already got the whole day planned and sketched out, back-to-back

john's fat wallet's will treat you well

always 'knows a guy', so you know your ass is about to be showered to filth

the wholesome family man side of him will be coming out, abandoning the stoic, brutally cold assassin behind

no more john wick— now it is jardani jovonovich

love language is gift giving, acts of service and physical touch

valentines plans:

he would start the morning with cooking you a nice sunny side up and toast, a side of maple pancakes and coffee. whilst you eat, he calls up a spa centre and gets you booked in at a lavish clinic, ordering some men to take you there privately. he asks you to call up your friends, inviting them to the spa day as well. gives you his card and some change just in case. once you leave, he cleans up your plate and cleans up the house, decorating and preparing whilst you're gone.

a full day later with hanging out with your girls, you return back home, deeply relaxed from the tantalising spa treatment. opening up, the house is completely dark and quiet, only seeing rose petals leading off to somewhere. walking along the rose covered path, you follow it and halt at the dining room. right there at the table, sits your husband of 5 years, warm smile on his face; white polo shirt and jeans. he gets up to greet you, kissing you on the lips and forehead

john's whipped up a classic candle lit dinner, steak and baked potatoes with a glass of wine. after a nice hearty meal, he takes you upstairs via the rose-petal lane, leading you to the bathroom. you're welcomed to a bubbling hot bathtub; two glasses of champagne, face masks, scented candles, and a charcuterie board sitting on the bath rack. you two hop in and relax in the tub, slippery naked bodies against each other. you watch a drama series on his laptop, silently staring at the screen

one blink later and you're in bed with john. big hands clasping on your small waist, bearded kisses and pecks littering on your stomach, muscular strong body dominating over yours, stocky fingers slipping to unholy places; john ends the day with pleasuring you for the night, showing you what no other man but him can give.

types of gifts:

surprise trips, full package spa treatments, his card for shopping trips, makeup, perfume, high end clothes, expensive wine, a bouquet of flowers, chocolate, a small teddy bear, menstruation stuff (pads, tampons, pills, hot water bottle pouch, snacks, his masseuse expertise, baby— this man loves you), anything you want, name a price, john will be your man

thomas anderson (neo) —

type of guy:

similar to constantine but more open-minded in his indifference

either forgot or is pretty clueless on what to do

casually flips through calender and scares himself shocked as he realise the date is tomorrow

goes on a forum to ask for help: "@/cyberspacecatontheweb: any suggestions for valentines day ?? I (37M) and a girlfriend (34F) are going out on a date and I don't know what to do. sm1 help a guy out thx"

goes on the internet and researches on ideas

eventually gives up and just scraps the ideas, goes with the flow

love language is quality time and physical touch

valentines plans:

thomas wakes up early and gets changed; black shirt and suit on. you arriving to the 101 apartment, he takes you out to a Chinese restaurant downtown. orders quite a lot of food— dumplings, stir fry, sweet and sour chicken, rice, hot pot, and bbq ribs. he pays the bill and you two leave, walking out to window shop.

later in the evening, thomas takes you up to a rooftop, sitting down and watching the city below. he hesitates, but then opts to spontaneously show you 'something cool'. gets out a tech device and presses a button, opening up a cybernetic portal. jumps inside and pulls you with him. you both teleport to a white void, confused and scared as fuck. thomas reassures you and shows you some of his latest tricks like emerging buildings and cities out of nowhere, binary codes that pop up and creates a giant ass dog that almost eats you, floating and flying through a cyberspace wormhole. for the last bit, he gently grabs your hand and shows you the last thing he promised: binary codes formulate and change, syncing up together and creating a love heart. thomas presses another button and the heart opens up, revealing a cybernetically generated portrait of you and him, written underneath 'happy valentines day xoxo'. his hands move to your waist and he slowly kisses you, simultaneously taking you back to the real world.

types of gifts:

digitally-made things: flowers, teddy bear, heart, a picture of you. makes a hologram gadget that does origami, a scented candle he remembers you like, cool tech glasses, paired with some gloves, that's installed with a program that allows you to do things- holographic games and worlds all built into these spectacles (norman jayden from heavy rain reference)

jonathan harker —

type of guy:

mr darcy-coded

valentines day with him would be a fairytale, straight out of a book

sensitive, kind, chivalrous, charming, courteous, and hardworking, your princelike husband who will always know how to woo you to your knees

planned everything in his sanctuary, ready to show you how he can treat you well

love language is gift giving, acts of service and quality time

valentines plans:

you wake up to a traditional english breakfast-in-bed; hot tea, coffee, porridge, bread, and eggs, served by maids. then you're being dressed up for the day, maids helping you out into your modest and elegant attire, fixing your hair, doing your makeup, and dusting you down. jonathan escorts you onto to the carriage, heading off first to a picnic at an expansive, spacious garden. The place is embroidered with pretty plants and flowers, fresh fragrance of pollen filling your nose. you and jonathan settle on the grass, laying a blanket. you enjoy some tea, crumpets, scones, and sandwiches, admiring the floral nature. jonathan dotes you inbetween small talk, complimenting your look frequently. for some short time, you both get up and walk around, appreciating the afternoon. after the picnic, he hires a photographer to have your picture taken. you sit on a chair as jonathan stands behind you, posing for the camera.

shortly comes the evening and it's time for the special occasion. you both get onto the carriage again, heading off to a restaurant. the restaurant is filled to the brim of posh people alike, halls decked with chandeliers and embellished with statues and paintings. the pair of you enjoy the night, relishing and dinning happily. jonathan brings you back home, taking you to the bedroom to surprise you with a bundle of flowers and a toy bear. he kisses you softly and gracefully on the head, reminding you of his love. you both tuck into bed and lay down for the night, sleeping peacefully into each other's arms.

type of gifts:

a basket full of roses, lilies, orchids and carnations. handwritten poem, a card enveloped and stamped with a red heart wax seal, chocolates from romania, dainty jewellery, toy bear, fragrance, a trip to paris, tickets to see an opera and a theatre performance, small trinkets, fruits, and a pocketwatch locket.

kevin lomax —

type of guy:

sugar daddy kevinnnnn

toxic but fine husband

will absolutely spoil you rotten, pampering you like a princess

love language is gift giving, physical touch, and acts of service

valentines plans:

first thing in the morning, breakfast's being sent to you at the penthouse. kevin leaves a note on the nightstand: "hey sweetheart, it's me. how was breakfast? it was good, right? i've called in your boss to let him that you're sick, so no need to go to the office. your whole day will be booked: spa treatment, nails, hair, and a private boutique booked so you can try on some new outfits that you'll be choosing for the evening. make sure you wear that lingerie i got you and don't miss any of those appointments. daddy's gonna have fun with you tonight.

love kevin xoxo"

you do as exactly he says, rushing up & down, excitedly getting changed. a black limo takes you to and back of all destinations, attending all your scheduled appointments. at the boutique, a blonde clerk waits for you, standing by a row of clothing racks with designer clothes hanged and heels below to select from. after carefully selecting, you choose a snug black dress and heels, fully dolled up for the occasion. a makeup artist quickly does your makeup, just in the nick of time kevin arrives, black waist coat and suit & tie. you exit the building to find him standing by the car. his eyes wonder around and check you out, hypnotised by your beauty. linking arm to arm, you two are driven to the wall street restaurant. the place is luxurious; interior design opulent and rich. kevin grabs a seat at the vip section, inviting some of his fellow law firm coworkers along. you cheers to a good night and dig in to the fine dining, enjoying the night. almost midnight, you and kevin return back home, immediately jumping into the jacuzzi.

you strip out of your clothes and wear the cute swim piece that kevin's bought for you— a black skimpy bikini that hugs all of your curves and cleavage. you sit back and relax with your man, peacefully sipping some champagne and enjoying each other's company. many drinks and pillowtalks later, the night ends with what you exactly expects: sounds of skin slapping and bed shaking; your moans echo throughout the bedroom. kevin's tall body thrusts repeatedly into you, grunting and groaning as he fucks your pussy. lasting with the real pillow princess treatment, kevin worships your body and makes love to you, showing you who you really belong to. . .

types of gifts:

expensive makeup, luxury trips abroad, designer outfits, exclusive spa treatments, sexy lingerie, his black card for those shopping trips, perfume, deluxe jewellery and accessories, a bouquet of roses tied in a bow, heart-box of chocolates, expensive wine and champagne, adult toys (wink wink), a white teddy bear, polaroid photos of you and him

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lottiesticklishpickle · 2 months

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Housewife!reader

From the request HERE

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Such a good little wife you are to your military husband, ready to welcome him back home after he returns from deployment. This time you've even prepared a meal of all his favorites, but when Simon gets back early than expected and catches you flitting about the kitchen in nothing but his t-shirt, it isn't food that he wants.

Word Count: 6.4 k

Warnings:

Simon has gotten in earlier than either of you expected, but instead of letting you know he doesn’t call, doesn’t text. There are other thoughts on his mind that cloud his judgment and the last thing he thinks about is wasting time focusing on messing with his phone when showing up back home is infinitely better. He’s excited to be back, chomping at the bit to get back his girl as he’s been missing you something terrible. Now that he’s back on home turf, that longing to see you again is only getting worse by the second.

You had told him your plan for today: you wanted to make his homecoming right by cooking him a nice meal for the two of you as a celebration since he’s been gone for quite a while this round. The gesture is sweet and Simon is getting hungry… the only problem is that it isn’t for food.

He reiterates to himself on the drive back about the promise that he made to you that he would be on his best behavior today. All this trouble you are going to, he wants to be sure to show his appreciation by enjoying the hard work you’ve put in to prepare a dinner of all his favorite things and he plans to keep it by not letting his yearnings get out of hand…at least that is what he hopes.

By the time he pulls up to the house he is over two hours early from when he was meant to land and his pulse is racing as he parks on the driveway. Just a short distance more and he’s back in the company he’s been craving like crazy.

His key clicks in the lock and as he opens the door to his house he is hit by the sights and sounds of familiarity that instantly put him at ease. There are reminders of you everywhere, little touches that make this a place of comfort he looks forward to coming back to after being away. It is the sound of music echoing from the kitchen that urges him to continue forward after he shuts the door quietly, hoping to catch you by surprise. He sets his gear down by the door and creeps silently through the house, the metallic clangs of pots and utensils underneath the music now becoming more prominent as he reaches the source.

And there you are.

The pupils of those caramel brown eyes dilate as you come into view; it has been too long since the object of his desire was standing right in front of him and fuck, do you look good. He watches you transfixed on the grace of your movements, unwavering gaze following the motions of your body as you go about the kitchen popping from the stove to the countertop singing along with the song playing over the bluetooth speakers.

This is it, this is his little piece of heaven on earth, his oasis safe from the chaos that is his daily life, his sunshine that pierces through the darkness that clouds his thoughts, and she’s wearing his t-shirt. And only his t-shirt with your panties.

How the hell can you make something so simple look like perfection? He could very well be biased because he only has ever had eyes for you, but fuck your beauty could pull off anything.

This right here is what keeps him going, knowing that this is what he will come home to.

He pulls his phone from out of his pocket and promptly snaps a picture, wanting to capture this innocent moment of carefree beauty that you exude now that you are alone in your own little world: humming happily to yourself, flitting about the kitchen, his baggy shirt randomly clinging to different curves as you move, your hair tied back into a low ponytail.

In that moment, looking like you do, he wants you so bad it hurts. Your figure is only a few feet away from his grasp and yet his body is aching in pain still being this far. He has to be wrapped around you and it has to be right now. Moving with haste he pulls off his mask and gloves and discards them on the ground, removing any sign of Ghost so that he cannot taint his sweet thing with the unsavory dealings of his alter ego. He can’t wait, those lips and hands have to be on you the second they can.

Just as you go to stir the pot of vegetables bubbling away on the stove, the music cuts out abruptly and a familiar pair of arms snake their way around your waist from behind, lacing themselves across the middle of your stomach. You jump, not expecting anyone to be against you, but as soon as your eyes catch that forearm full of familiar tattoos you settle. He’s home, that’s all that matters and those nerves that have been brewing inside your chest all day turn into delicious flutters as those large hands begin to roam across your body.

The old familiar curves call to him, beckoning him to travel their paths once again. Who is he to deny them? He does not even wait as his hands paw over your stomach and hips, those large, exploratory hands taking the curves of your body into their embrace over the t-shirt until his grip is so full he can’t contain any more.

“You’re early,” you say through a smile as you settle back into him, head resting against his shoulder.

The warmth from his breath is at the edge of your ear as he moves his face in closer while his hands wander with purpose. His lips are ghosting themselves near the delicate skin of your earlobe teasingly until he has you squirming in his arms. "Woulda called, just wanted to get home as fast as I fuckin’ could," he groans as he tightens his grip around you to cause your back to form into the contours of his taut chest. “Had a craving for somethin’ sweet.”

Pulling up the t-shirt just enough he moves under it with those large hands, splaying them across your soft flesh around your waist, your hips, your stomach as he takes your earlobe in his teeth to nibble at it playfully until it sends shivers down your spine.

“I missed ya, baby,” he says desperately against the side of your head.

"I missed you too," you return.

The longer he plays up under the shirt, the more your sanity wanes. His touch is ecstasy and after not having it for so long, it is hard to not immediately succumb to its bliss. He’s barely even begun and you are already falling apart; if this keeps up you’ll never finish what you have started on the stove.

"I wish you would have called,” you say, trying to break the spell, “cause I wanted everything to be done before you got home. I’m not ready, I’m not even dressed. I wanted this to be perfect."

His lips move from your earlobe and start just below your jaw, making the connection against your skin over and again along the line of your jugular as he descends down your neck with kisses. He pauses against the vein there as his lips pick up the thudding as it pulses under his touch. The more his mouth lingers, the quicker it gets.

With a smile he nuzzles his nose into your skin as his nostrils fill with your scent; the fragrance fills his head and it feels like he is being consumed. “Don’t need to get dressed,” his words breeze over your neck and down your chest, “ya look perfect just like this. How could I ask for anythin’ more?”

Simon takes the spoon out of your hand and rests it on the counter so that he can turn you around to face him; that stoic military officer is yearning to look into the face of the beauty he hasn't seen in far too fucking long. Meeting your gaze for the first time in months is akin to a contact high and immediately he is out of his goddamn mind as your eyes lock to his.

You are struggling just as badly. It is always a struggle not to miss him like crazy when he’s gone and now that he is back there is so much time to make up for. And the way he looks as he stands here in front of you, hands around your hips, isn’t helping. The universe knew what they were doing when they put Simon together and even though the black around his eyes is already smugged and his crinkled blonde hair is pressed down from being under his balaclava, the sight of him still makes your stomach flip. You are transfixed and it’s getting harder to breathe.

Brown eyes trail down your features to take you all in, drinking up every gorgeous facet of your face as his hands move to cup around the sides of your head like the frame around a work of art. Those eyes that light up whenever they look at him, that sweet mouth always ready with a smile, those soft cheeks glowing whenever he touches you, all of it a unique perfection that he cannot get enough of. Finally his sight lands on your mouth and as if drawn by an overwhelming urge he is compelled to move in.

He has to kiss you; it is suddenly unbearable that he still hasn’t tasted you yet.

Leaning into your face he gives your lips a peck to test that they still feel the same as he remembers. Pulling back, he catches the sparkle in your eyes that tells him to do that again and he is ready to oblige. Then he steals another and another at an increasing pace until his mouth smashes against yours and latches on, drawing you in as he deepens the connection.

His tongue meets yours and shoves its way past the barrier of your lips and into the confines of your mouth as he tastes you. Everything comes flooding back all at once and he is overtaken by all that familiarity. The longer the connection lasts the more he loses himself until he is panting into you, sharing one sticky, hot bit of air as his features shape themselves around your own to make your faces become one.

The thick stubble outlining his jaw abrades the skin of your cheeks and around your lips, making your face sting, but you don't want him to pull away. Not yet, not when his lips are making your mind hazy and your limbs tremble as all that tension that has been building for days as you wait for his return bubbles over the surface.

His desperation is showing as his dick digs itself into your upper thigh, pulsing and throbbing the harder it gets until you cannot ignore it. Each heavy breath pushes his bulky chest against yours until you can feel his rapid pulse rushing angrily through his veins as his heartbeat pounds.

"You’re gonna be the death ‘a me," he says quietly under his breath as he cannot think of anything else to say in that moment; his mind is too absorbed in the way your kiss is like heaven and he is succumbing to the feeling of it. “I know I said I’d wait til later, but I don’t think I can, sweetheart. It’s been hell without ya.”

At this rate Simon isn’t going to make it to dinner and you’re so close to being done, but maybe there is something you can do to sate him long enough that you can get through this. With a bit of struggle you break the kiss and pull away as he desperately tries to wrangle you back in so that you have to place your hand on his chest to get him to pause.

Giving Simon’s lower lip one last quick nip you slowly lower yourself to your knees before him, your fingers lacing into the leather of his belt as you fiddle with the buckle. “Then how about I give you a little something to keep you satisfied til dinner’s over?” you suggest as you look up at him with those pretty doe-eyes. “Something to make you feel better?”

His chest heaves up and down with each laborious breath he takes as you jump into unhooking the metal of his buckle and pulling the leather through until the belt hangs loosely around his hips. Your fingers slide down the zipper, but before you can do more his hands press yours into place along the lower portion of his pelvis so that you can’t keep undressing him.

“Ya don’t have to do this,” he mildly protests. Simon knows if you don’t stop he isn’t going to be able to either and this dinner is going to take a detour, though he can’t lie that he wants you to keep going.

Giving you a look, he waits to see if you stand back up, but you only smile as you pull your hands back out from underneath his. “I want to do this for you, baby,” you reassure, lifting the bottom of his shirt and leaning in to kiss along the light colored patch of hair that trails down into his boxers as you finish undoing his pants.

How in the hell is someone supposed to resist this? Simon is strong, he would not have gotten far in life if he wasn’t, but not this strong. You reach the waistband of his underwear with your lips and meet the seam with your fingers to pull them down under his ass low enough that you can release his thick, fat cock.

He is hard already, the tip swollen and angry, and the veins running through it visibly throbbing. The inside of your mouth salivates as it remembers the feeling of being stuffed with that girthy appendage. You keep the spit gathered on your tongue as you lean in and open your lips.

Taking the tip of your tongue you trace the head of his cock as your hand at the base keeps his foreskin pulled back. A breathy moan rumbles out from somewhere deep inside his chest, low and guttural as his hips buck and his ass hits into the ledge of the kitchen counter, making his belt jingle from the movement.

“Fuck,” he chokes out as his head falls back and his eyelids momentarily close. “Forgot how that pretty mouth feels ‘round me.”

He can feel a tightening around him as your lips contort into a smile, excited that you can still make that big ol boy come undone with something as simple as your mouth. Clearly he has been just as worked up as you have been for him to get home. As Simon settles back against the countertop with his palm on your cheek, his thumb lovingly strokes the corner of your full mouth as you continue on.

Your lips around him, wet and messy, suck him in until his cock reaches the threshold of your throat. Those pretty eyes of yours lift back up to look into his face, keeping contact as you choke around him, vision swimming with tears while your head bobs up and down in a steady rhythm. Your lips are bright red and swollen from his kiss, your cheeks blossoming with heated color, that lust-drunk look plastered on your face; it all makes up the gorgeous picture. The visual makes his blood pressure rise until his limbs are vibrating with the racing beats of his heart.

The slurping sounds of your saliva-filled mouth being fucked is punctuated by sparse gags; it hasn’t been this full for a while and it’s going to take some getting used to. Still, you don’t slow your pace, even as his hips begin thrusting against your face the longer you go. It’s like you’d rather suck him off than breathe and goddamn is that a turn-on.

Simon releases your cheek so that he can rest his hands on the counter behind him. He hasn’t had you like this in so long that it doesn’t take much to overwhelm him now. That pressure deep inside is building to its peak, drawing his body to the edge of its release with each pass of your mouth over him from as far down the base as you can reach back to the tip. His hands grip hard into the surface behind him until his knuckles turn white.

Shit, he is going to come just like he knows you want, but it is at that moment that he realizes that he doesn’t want to just take this quick blow job and be done with you until later. Simon needs you, all of you, under his touch and at his disposal right this fucking second. Suddenly he is pulling out of your mouth and situating his cock back into the confines of his pants as you stare up at him with your head tilted in confusion.

“What’s…” you start to ask, but before the words can even leave your lips you are being pulled to your feet. He doesn’t say a word as he wipes away a bit of spittle that has dripped from the corner of your mouth, using his thumb to remove it before he kisses you full force again.

It's too much, too strong an all consuming feeling to stop and so without warning he pulls from you and throws you over his broad shoulder to carry you out of the room in a rush. He is frantic; he needs to have you now and can’t wait to drag you all the way to the bedroom. No, it’s too far.

Scanning around him as his aroused brain tries to find the fastest solution, he spots it. The dining table that you’ve set special for tonight is just a few feet away and he instantly brings you over to it. Dishes clank and clatter, ceramic and glass hitting itself as he hurriedly shoves everything out of his way to make room for your body before setting you on the surface.

"I know you’re not done cookin’, but I’m hungry for somethin' else," he breathes as he sets you down and lays you back. “I need ya now…waited too long for this.”

The movement has caused your shirt to get pulled up off your stomach and the uncovered area catches his eye; more skin that he desperately needs to claim and now. He brushes his fingertips down across your waist and over your navel, past to your lower abdomen until he lightly grazes the seam of your panties. He can feel the goosebumps forming under his touch and he can hear the hitch in your breathing the lower he gets.

Reaching your sex he cups his wide palm over the mound and applies pressure. It is warm to the touch and he can feel it radiate into his hand. You buck against him, squirming at the unexpected sensitivity with a gasp. All that softness of your body, so delicate to the touch like silk against his skin, it’s too much for him to handle. Simon has had months and months of only rough, coarse, and rugged things from the brutal environment he was forced to endure, but the moment his fingers grace across all that balmy flesh his brain short-circuits.

It’s not just your looks that drive him wild, though. You are the one bit of happiness he keeps separate from the brutality of his work, the sanctuary that he looks forward to coming home to, the calm in his stormy existence. That's why he suggested he take care of the money so you could stay at home, not bother yourself with working, so that the harsh world wouldn't taint your sweet demeanor with its cruelty. And in return you take care of his life, never asking for anything as you make sure everything here runs smoothly.

"You're always takin’ care a me, makin' sure that everything is perfect when I get back home," he says as he gets more worked up. "Now it's my turn to return the favor. Goddammit, I just wanna screw the hell outta my pretty girl until she can’t move."

Firm hands cup against your hips as his fingertips slip between your panties and your warm skin, tangling them in the fabric so that he can pull them down your thighs and off your legs. Your bare petals faintly glisten as he gets a peak at them through the tight space between your legs, a product of his minimal touch already working on your body; nice to know he still has that effect on you no matter how much time you’ve spent apart. He slides his hands between your thighs, parting them easily as a knife in warm butter, until his hand is deep enough that he can stop and separate them so that the gap is wide and his body can easily fit in between.

"All this for me?” he asks as he stares like an animal starved at your pussy, mouth salivating to play. "Bet you’ve been achin’ somethin’ terrible since I left. Do ya need me ta fix that?”

“Yes,” you breathe.Your body is radiating with the intensity of every sensation that courses through your limbs like an electrical current everywhere Simon touches you.

“That’s a good girl,” he says as he glides his hand up so his fingers can part through the lips of your pussy.

Two of those thick fingers slide between the petals of your sex towards your entrance, gathering as much of your slick as he can on his digits. Carefully he teases them around the rim of your core, circling it through the dampness gathering in your slit. “One or two?” he asks as your back arches off the table, the stimulation driving you to the brink of insanity; it’s been too long since you’ve felt his fingers there.

You swallow hard. “T-two,” you beg. At this point, any amount will work as long as they are his and as long as they get inside you.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s what I like ta hear,” he praises as he aligns his fingers with your opening and slowly fits those two long fingers inside and up into you. “Fuck, there ya go. Just breathe for me, that’s it. Let your body do all the work and take ‘em in.”

They slip up further into your cunt and with a slow pace he begins to pump in and out of you while the overwhelming pressure causes you to arch your back up off the table. Instinctively, your hips buck against his hand, trying to make as much contact with him as possible.

Those long, coarse fingers curl inside you continuously as his heavy palm rests over top of your sex to put pressure so that he can make more contact and cause more friction with your G spot as his thumb nestles against your clit. Your body writhes against the table, your head falling back with eyes closed as the twinges of pleasure spring up your spine and Simon is grinning from ear to ear to see he still knows how to work his sweetheart just the way she likes.

As he watches you fall apart to the stroking of his fingers, from the corner of sight he catches it: that bounce at the top of your torso under the shirt. It’s as if he suddenly remembers about those beautiful breasts as they rebound with his strokes and out of a drunken haze he is consumed by the need to see them.

Pushing the bottom of your shirt up over your chest, it’s revealed that you don’t have on a bra and his breath hitches to see those perky tits he’s been dreaming of burying his face in staring right back at him. Fuck, he can’t stop himself from getting at all that juicy meat and quickly he leans over you with a groan from the table so that he can reach you with his mouth. Lightly he grazes his teeth over the delicate skin of your nipple to make the little bud grow hard under the sharp contact.

"Oh God, Simon," his name falls from your lips in a breathy prayer.

The sweet sound of his name being spoken in such a desperate way only spurns him on; he needs to hear it as many times as he can make you repeat it, especially after not being able to hear it at all while he was gone. "Say it again," he demands, never lifting his face from your breasts, just switching sides periodically to get them both engaged.

His tongue flicks at the hardened nipple and it makes you whimper as the stimulation runs down your body like liquid fire until you can feel its effects radiating in your clit each time his thumb strokes over it. You know that he wants you to say his name again, but you don’t know if you can. It’s too much stimulation that you are losing your ability to speak.

"Simon," you say as your voice shakes.

His hum of satisfaction vibrates through the tissue of your breast. "Again," he repeats firmly before drawing it fully into his mouth. Latching on he takes as much of your breast as he can fit and sucks down hard.

“S-simon,” your desperate voice clumsily moans.

Tiny beads of sweat form along the line of your body as it burns with the intensity of the ecstasy you feel under his expert care. He’s in your head, in the very marrow of your bones; there isn’t a part of you that isn’t consumed by him. Those rough fingers grinding away into your pussy and his mouth on your body all pail in comparison to the way his kiss had felt on your lips. That desperate, consuming, overwhelming kiss is your drug and you need another hit.

Your fingers lace into his short hair and you tug hard to pull him from your chest, only then does he unlatch himself from your breast as you guide him back up to your mouth. Simon’s lips are nearly raw and yet he takes yours as roughly as he had in the kitchen, never slowing the pace of his finger fucking.

It’s like liquid fire, your kiss, and he sucks down with a hunger that cannot be quenched. The sound of your sloppy lips match the wet slaps currently being produced between your legs. Simon is drunk as his mouth takes and takes and takes, and yet…

His mouth craves more, another set of lips.

The pad of his tongue makes contact with your clit and you jolt, making the table creak as the over-stimulation sends shock waves through your needy body. You can feel the sigh he releases against you as he begins to suck on the nodule of pleasure while flicking it with his tongue; it’s hard to think amongst the staggering overstimulation is leaving you begging and pleading for mercy.

Simon pulls from you amidst your whined protests to drop to his knees before you, giving those thick thighs his attention. His face comes level with your pussy that is absolutely soaked from the work of his fingers and raising your legs to rest your ankles on his shoulders, he dives in. Instantly his face is buried in your heat and as he brushes his tongue through your slit his mouth is filled with your nectar, that tangy burst of flavor that he can not get enough of. It is slathering all over the lower half of his face, coating him from his nose to his chin in the scent of your arousal.

Your thighs squeeze around his head and then release. “I can’t…I-I can’t…” you murmur as you try to move from him.

His mouth releases from you. “Yes, yes ya can, baby. Now, come on my face,” he says fiercely as he grips into the muscle of your hips with all his strength, secures you to his sharp features, and dives right back in like a man starved.

“F-f-fuck,” you groan as your hands seize the tablecloth in your fists, that coil of pleasure tightening in your stomach tighter with each flick of his tongue.

Feverish movements against that erogenous button are no longer controlled as he devours all he can, forcing your body towards that ledge to throw you off into ecstasy. He craves it, burns for it, and would die for it: the way you feel, the way you taste, the way your hips writhe against his advances, it all makes him rabid.

As your breath grows shorter and shorter, he knows it's not far; just a bit more suffocation on his part and you will be done in. He moves his face down to tease your hole with his tongue as his nose takes over on your clit. You are so hot it feels like someone has set you on fire as the knot in your stomach gathers to its breaking point. It’s there, right there within reach; just a little more and you are going to come hard and he’ll get his wish.

Those desperate whimpers quiet all of a sudden and he knows it’s happening; with a few more flicks of his tongue you plunge off the edge with a cry as your thighs clamp down tight around his ears so that he is blocked against you, but that is exactly what he wants. Those seconds after your orgasm shakes through you are his favorite: you writhing uncontrollably over him as he continues to stroke his tongue through you until that high has finally worn off.

Nothing has ever felt better and after not having this for months, it is pure heaven.

It isn’t until you settle down and your legs open back up that he emerges with his face covered in the sticky juices of your cum and his saliva. He is grinning like he has just been given a present, even as he wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand before wiping the slick on his t-shirt.

“Fuckin’ fantastic as always, baby,” he breathes. “But I ain’t done with ya yet. I think we can get at least one more orgasm from ya right now. Come ‘ere.”

He helps your weak body to sit up on the edge of the table to embrace your lips, hoping to reinvigorate you to keep going with the intensity of his desire. You can taste yourself in his kiss, a mixture of sweet and salty that combines with his natural tang to become the flavor of your union. The kiss only lasts a few more seconds, but after just being made to come the exhaustion makes it feel like a lifetime… not that you are complaining.

Pulling from you, he tugs at the crotch of his pants; he can’t wait anymore. “I need ya ta get up and turn ‘round, sweet thing,” he says, guiding you up and rotating you around before pushing you back down onto the table, this time on your stomach. “Gotta get inside. Need ta fill ya.”

The sound of metal jingles as he lowers his pants as his knee pushes against your inner thigh to spread you wider. He releases his cock again and squats down lower so that he can align the tip with your entrance. You can feel it press through the swollen lips of your pussy and you ready yourself for that moment when you’ll be split open.

He can already feel your dampness on his cock as he guides it through and without hesitation he grabs your hips and thrusts inside all the way down to the very base of his cock. Simon instantly bottoms out and needs a second to collect himself; it’s been too fucking long since he’s been inside you and if he isn’t careful he is going to come to quick for him.

Those rough fingers dig in deeper to your hips as he tries to hold on for dear life. “Goddammit, baby,” he groans. “I’ve missed this.”

His girth stretches your core wide to its limit so that the walls of your cunt can’t help but feel every single detail of his cock: every enlarged vein, the exact curve of it, each and every crease.

It’s like he’s imprinting it with his signature, letting your pussy know that the one it belongs to is home once again.

Hips begin to rock slowly at first and are immediately punctuated by deep-throated groans as he cannot keep himself calm for long no matter how hard he tries. Your body is too much like paradise, so devastatingly amazing that even though he is desperately clawing at his sanity it is slipping through his fingers faster and faster with each thrust like sand in a sieve. Pulling almost completely out of you he slams back into your core down to the base, repeating this over and over with a ferocity that only gets worse.

Your body rocks, breasts bouncing and bunching the tablecloth as you are pressed into the surface; you can only moan as the uncomfortable fullness becomes euphorically intoxicating. The table squeaks and strains against each plunge of him deeper into your pussy, threatening to break under the force at any second. Plates and silverware clatter to the floor as they are knocked off and yet you do not care. He will just replace them anyway so there is no sense to take yourself out of the moment to worry about it.

"Ya look so fuckin' pretty with my cock buried in ya," he grunts. "My sweet girl, my good little wife, always keepin' my balls empty. How'd I get so goddamn lucky to marry someone so good, yeah?"

Desperately he grinds harder and harder into you as if he cannot get deep enough, like he cannot fill you full enough. The recoil of your ass as he pounds into you from behind is something he can’t pull his sight from even if he wants to. He is mesmerized, watching himself disappear into the confines of your body only to reemerge more coated in your juices than when he went in.

“I want ta feel ya pulse around me each letter of my name,” he says as his hand runs down the length of your spine. “Come on, baby, let me fuckin’ feel it.”

You follow his command and flex the muscles in your pelvis. Ten letters isn’t that much, not for him; you do it all for him, anything he asks, anything he needs because you know that he is just as whipped for you as you are for him and this is the way to keep him coming back like a good little pup.

He’s panting like a bitch in heat behind you. “That’s it, fuck, just as that.”

So wet, so tight, the pulsing, the throbbing, the speckles of sweat covering your bodies, his hands grabbing at skin, your hips grinding into him… it’s all too much. “Keep going,” you beg with a shudder. “Fuck, Simon right there.”

You can feel him hitting that sensitive spot inside, his cock pounding over it at the perfect angle, and your limbs tingle as the second coming is fast approaching. There is only one man who can make you come multiple times and it is and always has been your husband. And now his complete possession of your body is almost finished.

“Come on, my pretty girl, gimme another,” he urges enthusiastically as he hears your whimpers get louder while your body trembles. “I know ya have another for me and I fuckin’ want it.”

He pounds into you as if his life is dependent on your orgasm and you steady yourself by gripping onto the edge of the tabletop. The pressure builds and builds, a scourge to your sanity until all at once that bolt of hot electricity shoots through your limbs and your head falls forward with a whine as your second orgasm rockets through you so hard that you are left a mewling mess.

“Yes, yes, that’s it,” Simon growls as he finally allows himself to let go and all that build up, all that pining, all that longing for this moment comes to a head and with a few more hard, deep strokes inside your spasming pussy he too comes undone.

A roar rips through his chest as he pulls out and comes across your back, stroking his hand over his cock until he can milk himself dry. You close your eyes, laying your head down as he finishes and grabs a napkin that sits on the table above your head to wipe the cum off. His limbs feel heavy as he sits you back upright to face him.

Simon simply stares into your face for a while, letting you both just work to catch your breaths. There are no words that need be said, not between you both. Once he is more calm, he gently pushes a strand of hair off your glistening face and tucks it behind your ear.

“Ya did so well for me, sweetheart,” he says sweetly, placing a softer kiss on your lips as his heart slows.

“Always for you,” you return with a smile against his lips.

As you both stand there in the midst of the afterglow of your euphoria, a smell begins to waft in from the kitchen. It is unmistakably the scent of something burning. You poke your head around him just to be sure there isn’t a fire on the stove before turning back to his face.

“I hope you like your food burnt cause that’s what we’re gonna be having now,” you laugh as he pulls you back in for one more kiss, letting his forehead rest against yours.

“Guess its a good fuckin’ thing I filled up on the first course then,” he says as you tut in fake exasperation. He lowers his voice. “But ya know… if the food’s ruined, maybe we should just go ta bed.”

Something about the way he says it and the glint in his eye as you pull back, it doesn’t sound like you are going to be sleeping anything off.

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