#sdkafdjkfhgldfghdkghdfkahgdf

[skibasyndrome]

💜 wilmon;

"You can open your eyes now."

cw: this is slightly nsfw. Wille birthday redemption arch - special outfit edition!

"You can open your eyes now," Simon's voice wavers slightly when he speaks for the first time again, after leaving Wille sitting in their bed, eyes dutifully pressed shut and mind reeling with an abundance of possible explanations for Simon's sudden secrecy. Wille slowly blinks his eyes open, now sensitive against the gentle golden light of morning that is streaming in through the sheer curtains of their hotel room. When they land on the figure in front of him he feels every last breath knocked out of him at once. "Happy birthday," Simon tells him, voice sheepish in a way he doesn't usually get, like he has any reason at all to be nervous, like Wille is in any state to do anything but stare on in awe, like Wille could ever feel anything but utmost reverence for his boyfriend. Especially when he's standing in front of him like this, beautiful, stunning, presenting an outfit for him that makes Wille wonder if he's still dreaming. Simon's chest moves slowly as he sucks in a deep breath, lifting the sheer white fabric that's tightly hugging him with it, moving the lace flowers so enticingly that Wille needs to mirror the action, needs to gasp to get air back into his lungs. "Can you please tell me what you're thinking?," Simon gets out, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and tensing his arms that are helpfully, beautifully crossed behind his back so - presumably - Wille can get a good look at that vision of a man in front of him. It's Simon's nervous plea that kicks Wille back into gear, makes him realize that maybe, just maybe, staring on like he's unlearned all other forms of speech is not an option. He scrambles to pull the crisp hotel bedsheet off his legs, quickly puts both feet on the ground, hopes to god that his knees aren't as unusable as they feel, and gets up to come to a stand in front of Simon. Wille just nods at him once, entirely unuseful, as he realizes a little too late, then lifts a hand slowly, carefully, as if he could scare Simon away with a single abrupt movement. They both watch Wille's hand as he brings it towards Simon's sternum, fingers involuntarily shaky as he drags them down, across the textured fabric. But he's still not saying anything, god, and Simon is still staring at him like he's not getting just how fucking stunning Wille thinks he is right now, and always, but especially now, and that just won't do. "Can- can I show you instead?" is what Wille finally forces out of his mouth, and he's about to groan at his own fucking ineptitude, but then Simon's frown is morphing into a bright smile, one that makes his eyes crinkle around the edges, one that has him letting out a sweet, relieved giggle that makes Wille's insides melt in fondness. "Mmmh," is all Simon says before he's wrapping his lace-covered arms around Wille's neck and pulling him down into a kiss that's a little too smiley to be heated, a little too deep and breathy and slick to be innocent, but fucking perfect to Wille. Fucking perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect, is what plays in Wille's mind over and over as he wraps his own arms around Simon, maneuvers them backwards and lowers his wonder of a boyfriend down onto the bed.

Hi anon!!! I promise I tried to make this one only 5 paragraphs this time but dklafdklhgfdk even that failed...... anyways, lmao, I hope you're happy with a little special birthday time for wilmon. Thanks for the fun sentence! 💜💜💜

Send me "Wilmon" + a sentence and I will write you (most likely more than) 5 more!