TUMBLR ATE THE REQ NOOOO but here are some cecil kissing hcs!!! short and sweet just like me/j
- Cecil is a very, very private man
- And he’s also unfathomably busy
- So kisses with him are few and far between
- But, my god, are they worth it
- He kisses you like you’re a lifeline; the only thing keeping him together in this fucked up world
- His hands shake as they hold you, as if unbelieving that something so good could come to a man like him of all people
- If you trace his scar, he’ll absolutely melt as it’s the one piece of him that he decided to keep upon the reconstruction of his body
- He’s most definitely experienced
- Moreso in his younger years than as of late tho lol
- (its totally bc he only has eyes for you now)
- He knows how to make you tick
- When to bite and when to softly suckle on your bottom lip
- Morning kisses over coffee are most common with him
- Where the two of you are hidden from the rest of the world
- All in your own little bubble
A sigh is breathed into your neck just as you finish pouring yourself a cup of coffee, a familiar set of arms wrapping around your waist. You lean into the touch, melting into the sense of comfort and stability it brings.
“Didn’t think you’d wake up so fast,” you tease, pulling his favorite mug from the cabinet with Cecil still wrapped around you before pouring him a cup of coffee as well. One cream, no sugar; just the way he likes it.
When he doesn’t speak, you shift in his hold to face him, your back pressing lightly against the counter. You cock a brow, lip pulling into a barely perceptible frown as your hand reaches up to caress his cheek. His scar is rough beneath the pad of your thumb, but the circles you draw on it seem to draw your husband back from whatever thoughts occupied his mind.
His once clouded eyes are now clear, and before you know it, his lips are slotted softly against yours.
It’s strange—seeing someone as put together as Cecil fall apart from the soft intimacy of a morning kiss, but you’re happy to witness it nonetheless.
The kiss itself is slow, practiced over the course of your marriage, and just the right tempo to make the world around you melt away. No heroes. No villains. No world-ending catastrophe. Just you and Cecil.
His arms tighten around your waist, one of his hands moving up your spine before settling at the nape of your neck; grounding for both him and you. You shudder into the kiss, your breath mingling with his for the split second you pull away.
You aren’t sure when the two of you finally stop kissing, but you’re breathless when you finally part, his hand tracing your jaw while you interlock your hands at the back of his head.
“Well good morning to you, too, Cecil.”
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