fluff ♡. wedding anniversary cuddling w sunday it's actually that simple. gn reader. reader is halovian bc it makes the most sense for sunday (to me) for,,, family reasons. let sunday be happy and in love or motherfucker i will do it myself
cw: none, except love and joy. slightly suggestive at the end ig but it's tame. word count: 780.
(happy boothill day!!!! :D we will pull him in one warp :3♡♡)
Today marks your fourth year as Consort to the Oak family, and it's been a wonderful day. Your doting husband presses a line of kisses up your neck, stopping in the middle to run his fingertips over the soft arch of your wings, before he takes your chin in his gentle grasp and turns your head to him.
"Angel," he mutters. His eyes linger on your lips, then rise to finally meet your own, and he smiles. Aeons, his smile.
You smile back at him reflexively. You feel utterly exposed under his gaze — not because it's scrutinizing, and not because it makes you uncomfortable — it's simply his effect on you (that, and those gorgeous yellow eyes, no doubt). Something in him has always stirred you. Something in you has always stirred him. You wouldn't want it any other way.
"Sunday," you whisper back. Your arms rise to wrap delicately around his neck and rest atop his shoulders.
He pulls you in by your waist and holds you against him. His nose meets yours in the middle and the tips of your noses rub lightly against each other. It's playful. Innocent. It's the gentlest kiss he can give you. He closes his eyes and in his softest voice, the one you've been missing — aching for — for weeks now, he breathes, "I love you..."
He closes the short distance between your lips with a kiss and hums into it, and his hands press against your lower back as he keeps you flush against him.
You had plans for the day. A romantic breakfast, a walk together across the city, a big lunch — a whole day filled to the brim with activities — but you only made it to lunch before losing steam.
It's his one off day. The one day in months that he's been able to promise you, "Yes, my love, the day is yours," and in theory, it sounds wonderful to spend it wandering the town, looking out at the people and breathing the cool air in. In practice, however, you're both exhausted, and you both know it.
When he's not knee-deep in paperwork, he's out on the town anyway, doing one of a million different things. And you, quite frankly, are just sick of his absence. You'll do anything he wants today, as long as it means getting to be with him, and you know that deep down, he just wants to lay in bed all day.
You acquiesce to him. It's only just after noon, but already, you two decide the day is done. You remove your jewelry and outerwear piece by piece, placing it to the side haphazardly, and pull your halo off from where it floats atop your head. You do the same for Sunday, saving him the effort, and lay his things in a pile with yours. Even your items are happy to cuddle up together.
You pull him backwards onto the bed. He catches himself above you, smiling warmly, and buries his face into your neck. His breath tickles the sensitive skin of your wing and it reflexively grazes his face in return.
Your heart swells, knowing you've won; knowing he's happy with this. "Sunday?"
He hums softly against your skin. His wings flutter ever so lightly.
You bring your hand up into his hair and comb through it gently. "I love you more."
You feel his smile against your neck and can't resist smiling back. You could hold onto this moment forever, if it were possible. You could, in fact, live this moment over and over again forever in the dreamscape if you wished, but you don't. The moment is beautiful, not in spite of, but rather because of its fleeting nature. You will cherish it in your loneliest moments, when he spends days in a row working from dawn til dusk.
Loving Sunday means missing him, aching in his absence, and you will do it proudly.
He relaxes fully into you and you immediately sense him falling asleep. Oh, how sweet he is, how intimate an experience to share.
Already half asleep, he mumbles against your neck, "Wake me up soon, darling... I will cherish this day with you. I will– I need to be with you... I love you..." His mumbles become airy whispers at the end, and in moments he's fallen asleep.
You turn your head slightly to rub your cheek into his hair and sigh contentedly, smiling still. This is all you need. You could die happily in this moment — holding him as he sleeps, petting his gorgeous fluffy hair, feeling his gentle breaths on your neck and admiring the blissfully serene expression on his perfect face. You will, however, honor his wish to be woken from his beauty sleep, as you honor his every wish always.
In a couple hours you'll wake him, gently, and he will have a renewed excitement to have you. To be your husband. He will wake up and remember his desire to honor — no, worship — you, as you do him.
It will keep you up, and then it will tire you out.
But you know that. He is your husband, after all, and you know him best.
Change the Rhythm and Watch Their Script Fall Apart
https://wp.me/p84YjG-b5x
#zsoltzsemba #Unpredictable #EarlyOversharing #CalmOverLogic #Manipulation #Awareness #EmotionalIntelligence #MensMindset #SelfProtection #LevelUp
