Lucifer stood in front of the mirror, brushing through his short coils with lazy, practiced strokes. The bathroom light cast a soft glow over his deep brown skin, highlighting the sharp lines of his face, the faint bags under his eyes from a long day, and the relaxed expression that only ever seemed to appear when he was at home. When he was with her.

His beard had grown in more, thicker now, lining his jaw with a dark shadow that Sunday loved to run her fingers through when she thought he wasn't paying attention. He smirked at the thought. She thought she was slick, but he always noticed.

Through the open door of their bedroom, he could see her sprawled across their massive bed, lying completely bare against the sheets, the soft golden glow of the bedside lamp kissing every inch of her delicate skin.

His wife.

The word still felt new, foreign in a way that sent warmth through his chest. It wasn't just a title-it was Sunday, his Sunday, the woman who had turned his whole world upside down from the moment she walked into it.

He set his brush down and leaned against the sink, watching her from the mirror. She was stretched out, her petite frame almost lost in the sea of blankets, her dark curls wild against the pillows. One arm draped over her stomach, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the smooth curve of her hip. Her other hand rested on the mattress, fingers slightly curled like she was waiting for him to take it.

His ring sat pretty on her finger, the diamonds catching the light, a small but constant reminder that she was his in every way.

Sunday caught him staring and smirked, tilting her head slightly. "You just gonna stand there, or you gonna come love on me?"

Lucifer chuckled lowly, running a hand over his beard. "Love on you, huh?"

"Mhmm," she hummed, her voice still thick with sleep. "I think it's in our vows somewhere-'always love on your wife, especially when she looks this fine.'"

Lucifer shook his head, stepping out of the bathroom and making his way to the bed, his heavy footsteps echoing softly against the hardwood floor. "Oh yeah? You sure you ain't makin' that up?"

Sunday simply held out her hand, wiggling her fingers for him to take. He didn't hesitate, slipping his much larger hand into hers, his thumb running over the band of her ring.

"Still feels unreal," she murmured, her voice quieter now.

He climbed into bed beside her, one arm sliding beneath her as he pulled her into his chest, her body instantly molding against his. "What does?"

She looked up at him, eyes soft and full of something he couldn't quite name but felt in every inch of his being. "That I get to be your wife."

Lucifer exhaled, his lips curving into a smile as he leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead. "You better get used to it, Mrs. Kensington. 'Cause I ain't goin' nowhere."

Sunday giggled, snuggling closer into his warmth, her fingers slipping under his shirt to rest against the hard planes of his stomach. "Good. 'Cause I'd chase you down if you tried."

He chuckled, the deep rumble of it vibrating through his chest. "I believe you."

The night stretched on around them, the quiet hum of the city outside barely reaching them through the tall windows. Their house-their home-was a peaceful sanctuary, wrapped in warmth, love, and the quiet promise of forever.

And for the first time in a long time, Lucifer felt like he had everything he ever needed.