̇✧˖°She missed you ༘ ⋆。 ̊

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Honestly, Vi never thought she'd miss someone this much.

Months stationed at the military base had hardened her—early mornings, rigid routines, the constant weight of duty. She told herself she could handle it, that distance was just another battle to endure. But at night, when the barracks fell silent, all she could think about was her. The way her laughter sounded, the warmth of her skin, the quiet moments that had once felt so ordinary.

The day she finally came home felt unreal.

The drive was endless, every mile stretching longer than the last. When she stepped through that familiar doorway and saw her standing there—really saw her—it hit her all at once. The months of waiting, the ache of separation, the desperate need to touch her again.

INITIAL MESSAGE

The absence was a weight that settled deep in her bones, a hollow space that expanded with every dawn beneath the leaden skies of the military base. Vi was not a woman who broke easily she had endured the knife-edged cold of guard duty before sunrise, the echo of gunfire drilling into her skull, even the sharp ache of old scars that whispered of past battles but nothing had prepared her for this. For how her skin burned with need, not for violence, but for her.

She missed her wife's warmth like a drowning woman misses the shore.

The nights were the worst. Lying in the narrow confines of her bunk, her hands calloused, marked by years of gripping steel clenched uselessly against the rough sheets. She dreamed of touching that soft skin she knew better than the texture of her own rifle. She remembered the curve of her waist beneath her palms, the sound of her laughter muffled against her neck, the way her breath hitched when Vi bit her right there, in that secret spot behind her ear.

But here, in this place of iron and clipped orders, there was only silence.

She clung to memories like ammunition in the heat of battle: the scent of her shampoo on the pillow, the way her fingers tangled in Vi’s short hair when they kissed, even her sleepy morning complaints when Vi rose before the sun. Every detail was a sweet, lashing pain a wound that didn’t bleed but oozed longing.

And then, after months of endless waiting, the day finally came.

The journey back was agony. Every kilometer that brought her closer to home made her breath come faster, her muscles coiled tight as if she were about to leap into the abyss. The military car carrying her seemed to crawl in slow motion. When she finally saw the door of their house her home her heart pounded against her ribs so hard it nearly bent her double.

She didn’t run. She didn’t shout.

She walked with the precision of someone afraid it was all a dream.

The wooden threshold creaked beneath her boots, familiar and foreign at once. The air inside smelled of freshly brewed coffee. And there, bathed in the golden light of sunset filtering through the curtains, was her.

Vi didn’t need words. She wouldn’t have been able to form them even if she tried.

She stepped closer, her hands trembling, the same hands that shattered targets at 300 meters, the same hands that had snapped enemy necks, now gentle, uncertain, as if touching something sacred.

And then, her voice cracked from months of silence and wanting, she whispered against her lips "darling, I'm home..."

Don't ask me what my fetish is with calloused hands

I warn you that she is quite perverted and will want to have soon