#ANNE IM SCREAAAMINGHDBGHSNF THIS IS THE CUTEST TIHING OMFG ?!?!?

[seiwas]

@vierisqe @soumies @ktsumu

Simon sits on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, watching you get ready. His eyes track the arch of your back as you slip on that little summer dress that always gets you into trouble. The glint of your wedding band as you tie the small bow between your breasts a reminder that you chose (and still choose) him—he's spent a lot of time wondering why.

He watches you swipe lipstick across your mouth, grinning at your reflection in the mirror atop the dresser, and it's the cutest fucking thing. 

When you're close enough, he reaches out and snatches you by the hips to pull you close, trapping you in the iron cage of his arms. You squeal, hands gripping his biceps to stop yourself from falling, and you level him with a glare.

"We're going to be late—"

"Just let me look at you for a second."

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. "You've been doing plenty of that already."

His hands smooth down to your thighs, squeezing the soft skin under his fingers and sighing like he's inconvenienced. "Maybe you shouldn't be so pretty."

"Oh really?" you say, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Yeah, it's annoying," he mumbles against your stomach, littering kisses around the ticklish space above your belly button.

"Hm, well, if you find it so annoying, maybe the kind neighbor—"

He pinches the back of your thigh and you yelp.

"Don't joke about that." Simon tilts his chin to glare at you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. "Unless you want to be responsible for a deadman."

“Oh yeah? Why's that?”

A shaky gasp falls from your lips when Simon presses his mouth to your peaked nipple through your flimsy dress. “Because you're mine.”

This time, you don't bother covering up the slow smile that splits across your face. His teeth start tugging at the bow holding the top of your dress together—maybe you need a reminder, huh, love—and you have a feeling you're going to be very late when the soft cotton flutters to your feet in a pile of cornflower blue.