Catching Satoru starring, touching — grimacing at his battle scars that scattered across his body and face. Watches the tight tinge in his brows knit, his lips thinning into a firm line and his beautiful eyes dimming with absolute distaste and revolt. You exhale a low breath, a generous smile making its way onto your face.
You leisurely enter the bathroom, wrap your arms around his waist and hold him into your embrace. Tending soft kisses onto his clothed back. He smiles with a boyish chuckle, as if you didn’t just catch him revolting himself. Your fingers interlock together securely around his abdomen.
“You’re still beautiful Toru’…always will be” you murmur gently into his shirt, feeling the warmth of his wide palm caress over yours. His thumb delicately brushing along the tender skin.
“…You still find me attractive, even with all of these scars?” His voice surprisingly low, simmered into almost a melancholic tone. Your heart pangs against your chest from his change of demeanor, the change in his subtle voice.
You grip his shirt, pulling away and fiddle your way in front of him. Mingling your smaller body between his and the bathroom sinks marbled ledge. You swiftly cup his face, thumbs fanning gingerly, lovingly over his beautifully decorated face.
“I will always find you attractive you doofus, especially with all of those scars…they bring out so much beauty from you, tell you how truly strong and courageous you really are…” you smile up at him endearingly, feeling the soften touch of his face lean into your lulling caress. Humming pleasantly to your tender affirmations.
“You could never be ugly to me, Toru…I love everything about you…if anything, those scars actually make you look so sexy if I’m being completely honest” you shrug lightly, watching the light glint of playfulness glimmer back into those bright globes of azure. His hands weave down to the curves of your waist, hiking you up onto the counter with a swift motion.
A small tilt of a smirk taunting his smug, nestling himself in between the space of your legs.
“Oh? Do they now?” He toys with a lilt in his usual coy tune, you scoff with an eye roll, gently whacking at his chest. He chortles, welcoming the comforting warmth of your palms to his cheeks, leaning back into them.
“Don’t ruin the moment dummy” you both share a laugh, his lips softly meeting your fingers and palm, your lips pressing onto his forehead, nose then his lips. Staying there for a long moment to sink in the kindred intimacy you both shared.
And in these moments…Gojo Satoru, had always found himself so lucky to have you. To hold you and call you his. To assure him that he was so much more than what he was usually treated as; a pretty face or a devastating weapon to the Jujutsu world and society. To call you home. ♡
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Freshly engaged husband Miguel, who fucks you ever so lovingly, and yet ever so animistically — desperately from above you, carefully holds out your right hand and places a tender kiss to the finger dressed with your gorgeous, glimmering wedding ring. Mumbling and groaning softly how tremendously lucky and impeccably happy he is to officially have you, to officially call you his. How lucky he is to feel you. He shows you just how undeniably lucky and entirely enraptured you make him feel, with precised hard thrusts and constant, sweet kisses all over your delicate small hand (mainly amongst the silver gorgeous band with the adoring, glistening diamond nestled on top of it). -` ♡ ´-
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