7. You're Gorgeous, Scars and All

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Warnings: light smut, talk of self-harm, a lot of it :(

Corbyn's PoV

Scars decorated her thighs like tiger stripes, painting a heartbreaking path up her hips and stomach. My fingers trailed over her naked legs, slowly brushing over the pale examples of years of loneliness slashing over her skin.

Y/n cupped my face in her hands and I let my eyes meet hers. Her face was clearly marked in shame and I could feel my heart fracturing. Even the thought of her going through all that time of anguish and hopelessness made my chest tight with grief. "I'm sorry," y/n's voice was tight and small and she closed her legs ever so slightly. "I know seeing it isn't the same as knowing."

I stroked my thumbs over her hip-bones, turning my head to kiss her palm. "Don't be sorry, my love. You're gorgeous, scars and all. There's nothing I could find out about you that could make me love you any less. I'm just so grateful that you trust me enough to let me see you like this."

Her hands began to tremble against my cheeks, sliding up to grip my hair. I looked up at her and cursed myself when I saw she had tears balancing on her lashes. "Baby," I cooed, pressing kisses to her face. "What's wrong? I didn't mean to make you cry."

She shook her head. "I'm just-" she broke off to catch her breath, pulling my hair lightly. "I'm so fucking glad you aren't, I don't know, repulsed or something."

"Of you? Never," I assured, I captured her lips with my own in a sweet kiss. It deepened and y/n arched into me, our bare chests pressed against together, her hips moving to roll against mine, her panties against my boxers.

I reached between us and rolled the waistband of y/n's panties between my fingers. "This okay?" I mumbled, searching her eyes for any hesitation or fear.

She nodded and pushed up her hips to make them easier to remove. I pulled them down her legs and dropped them to the floor beside our bed. My boxers soon followed and I rolled on a condom, looking at my girlfriend again as I did so. She took a deep breath and nodded, pulling me forward to meet our lips again as I pressed into her ever so slightly. She winced slightly and I froze, running my hands over her hips and sides before she relaxed and mumbled into the kiss for me to continue.

When we made love it wasn't perfect. It was hasty whispers and clashing kisses and happy overwhelmed tears. It was sweaty bodies and wandering hands and slapping skin. It was gasping moans and mumbled endearments and hands pulling the other closer. It was every word I wanted to say but couldn't. It was a sorry for what you endured and a thank you for all you've given and a promise of my overbearing, all-consuming, terrifyingly real love.

You're gorgeous. Scars and all.

***

I wanted this to be so much better than it actually turned out.

𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 [✓]Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora