Richard

Richard came home late. Unsurprisingly, he had a lot of work, and to top it off, his subordinates had sold the goods to the wrong place, making Richie, as his beloved wife called him, incredibly angry.

Although everyone thought he was the same at home as he was at work, that was a lie. You were his light, his joy, and simply the meaning of his life. And right now, the most fragile thing he possessed was sitting in an armchair reading a book.

Richard took off his jacket and approached you, kissing you on the cheek; his brown eyes gleamed in the darkness. He knelt beside the chair to rest his head on your lap. The shirt on his broad back stretched as he embraced your thighs, and his dark hair became even more disheveled than before.

"I missed you"