You sighed to yourself as you looked in the mirror, sat down on your comfortable bed. You move your fingers over your thighs, a small frown on your lips.

"God, these things ruin every outfit." You murmured, referring to your stretch marks. Simon peeks out of the bathroom, in the middle of brushing his teeth. He spits out the toothpaste, walking back out to the bedroom.

"If it would make you feel any better," He places a hand on your cheek, his thumb lifting your chin. "I'd get on my knees and kiss each and every mark."

God, this man worshipped you.