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In the quiet dawn, a tender ritual began each morning in the Gojo household—one that only Utahime and Satoru knew.
Though their days brimmed with formalities and responsibilities befitting their rank and estate, it was in these private moments where the true, unspoken language of their love came alive. Satoru’s affection showed itself in a simple, intimate gesture that Utahime came to cherish: a gentle, lingering kiss upon her neck. From their early courtship to the fullness of marriage, and even through the bustling days with their children, this small act endured, a constant source of warmth and assurance.
It began when they were courting, with Satoru as bold and irreverent as ever, despite the societal rules they both knew well. During a walk on a cool evening, Satoru took her gloved hand in his, drawing her close under the soft glow of the streetlamps.
“Utahime,” he whispered, the corners of his mouth lifting in a mischievous smile. Before she could react, he leaned in, his lips pressing softly against the tender skin of her neck, hidden beneath the lace trim of her collar.
Utahime gasped, her cheeks flooding with warmth. “S-Satoru!” She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her voice a hushed whisper, scandalized yet not truly displeased.
“What? Is it a crime to be enraptured by my fiancée?” he murmured, his blue eyes bright with mirth.
She looked around, worried someone might have seen, though they were very much alone. “You are far too bold,” she whispered, unable to keep a smile from tugging at her lips. “Someone could see.”
“Then let them see,” he replied, holding her close. “I am proud to let the world know how deeply I adore you, my dear Hime.”
The blush on her cheeks grew, but she did not resist as he leaned in once more, his lips ghosting over her skin. It was a simple gesture, but in that quiet, stolen moment, it became a promise.
Years later, in the early mornings of their marriage, that very same kiss had become a cherished routine.
Satoru, still half-asleep, shifted slightly, and a slow, lazy smile curled his lips as he opened his eyes to see her watching him. He let out a contented sigh, reaching for her hand.
"Good morning, love," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.
Utahime smiled, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. "Good morning. You sleep like you have no worries in the world."
"That’s because my only worry is you not being here next to me," he said, his eyes soft, a familiar playfulness tinged with sincerity shining through.
She rolled her eyes, her lips quirking up as she shook her head. "You, Satoru Gojo, have not a serious bone in your body."
"Oh, I assure you, my bones are plenty serious," he teased, stretching out before pulling her close. He leaned in, brushing his lips against her neck in the gentle, familiar way he had done every morning since the early days of their courtship. "And besides, how could I not greet my lovely wife in the best way I know how?"
Utahime’s cheeks warmed, as they always did, no matter how long they'd been together. “You do this every day,” she muttered softly, unable to hide the smile pulling at her lips.
"And I shall continue every day," he replied, pressing another kiss just below her ear, his voice a soft murmur against her skin. “It’s my favorite hobby, and I’m not about to give it up.”
Utahime’s heart fluttered, and she couldn’t help but lean into him. "Your sons would be mortified if they knew."
Satoru laughed, unabashed, and smiled at her sweetly. "Let them be. They'll have to grow up one day and understand that, sometimes, love is just this… simple.”
As the years went by, their family expanded, with the births of Yuta, and then the twins Yuji and Megumi. With each child, their house grew more lively, bustling with laughter, small footsteps, and, of course, Satoru’s ever-present playfulness.
But even amidst the delightful chaos of family life, Satoru’s gentle kisses on Utahime’s neck remained a quiet constant. In the mornings, as she bustled about preparing breakfast or organizing their children’s schedules, he would find her, catching her in a rare still moment, his lips grazing her neck as he wrapped his arms around her.
One particular morning, while she was kneading dough for the day’s bread, she felt his familiar touch.
“Must you do that when I am clearly preoccupied?” she teased, though her smile betrayed her happiness.
“Indeed,” he replied, placing another kiss. “Consider it encouragement, my love.”
Just then, their eldest son, Yuta, wandered into the room, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He stopped short at the sight of his parents, wrinkling his nose with a mixture of confusion and faint embarrassment.
"Father, must you always… do that?" he asked, tilting his head and casting his parents a mildly exasperated look.
Satoru merely chuckled, holding Utahime a little tighter. "One day, Yuta, you’ll understand that these small gestures keep love alive. Even in a house full of responsibilities, it’s important to cherish these moments with the one you love."
Utahime looked down, trying to hide her smile while Yuta gave a resigned sigh, clearly unconvinced but too sleepy to argue.
"Well, just… don’t be too mushy, alright?" he muttered, before heading off in search of breakfast.
When he had gone, Utahime and Satoru exchanged a glance, and she couldn’t help but laugh softly, a warm contentment settling over her. "Our poor children," she said, shaking her head. "They must think us hopeless."
"Let them," Satoru replied with a grin, pressing another quick kiss to her cheek. "It’s a good thing, really, for them to know love can be this constant."
As Yuta and the twins grew into young men, they became accustomed to witnessing these small moments of affection between their parents. Satoru’s quiet gestures became a part of their family’s rhythm, a small yet profound way that he continued to express his love for his wife amidst their busy lives.
One warm afternoon, Yuji, now twenty-three and as lively as ever, came bounding around the corner of the veranda and stopped in his tracks when he saw his parents. Satoru had his arms wrapped snugly around Utahime from behind, his lips pressed to her neck as they both gazed out over the sprawling estate gardens. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, but the scene was otherwise peaceful—until Yuji’s not-so-subtle footsteps alerted them.
Yuji, caught between feeling awkward and amused, grinned widely. "Oh! Didn't mean to interrupt the, uh, 'garden appreciation' moment." He scratched the back of his head, watching them with sparkling eyes.
Utahime, startled, blushed as she glanced at Yuji, but Satoru only chuckled, keeping his arm around her.
“You ought to knock,” Satoru teased, flashing his son a grin.
Yuji shook his head and trying to hide his laugh. “It seems, Father, that I would need to knock even when you are merely admiring the scenery with Mother.”
“Oh, most certainly,” Satoru replied with a wink. “Your mother is my favorite view.”
Satoru laughed, and Utahime looked down, shaking her head at her husband and son’s antics, but her smile was unmistakably warm.
As the years passed, their sons became accustomed to their parents' enduring affection. The playful, tender moments became a part of family life, a quiet assurance of the strength of their bond.
One winter evening, Megumi, now twenty-three, was reading by the fire when he caught sight of his parents on the other side of the room. Satoru, ever true to form, was sneaking yet another kiss on Utahime’s neck as they worked on organizing the estate’s ledger together.
Megumi’s usually stoic face softened as he observed them. Though he didn’t often say it, he admired their enduring closeness, even if their affection had once embarrassed him as a child. It was a rare thing, he knew, to see a love so resilient and full, and in that moment, he felt a quiet appreciation for the life his parents had built.
Yuji, catching his brother’s thoughtful look, leaned over and nudged him with a grin. “Still sneaking kisses, aren’t they? You’d think they’d have grown out of it.”
Megumi shook his head, an amused smile tugging at his lips. "I doubt they ever will."
The brothers shared a quiet laugh, knowing that despite their father’s occasional eccentricity, their parents’ love was an anchor that had shaped their lives in countless ways.
With the passage of time, Yuta, Yuji, and Megumi grew and eventually moved on to build lives of their own. Though the house was quieter, Satoru and Utahime’s love remained as full as ever, woven into every corner of the estate and every morning they shared together.
One golden autumn morning, their sons returned for a family gathering. Upon entering the parlor, they found their parents in an embrace by the window, their gazes soft as they looked out over the gardens they had tended together for years.
Yuji, cleared his throat with a teasing grin. “Is this what we can expect now that we’ve left? The two of you just… gazing into each other’s eyes?”
Utahime looked up, her cheeks coloring faintly, though her smile was warm.
“Oh, you three,” she said, shaking her head. “Haven’t you gotten used to this by now?”
Satoru merely chuckled, his hand still resting on her waist. "Exactly that. We’ve earned it, haven’t we?"
Yuta laughed, placing a gentle hand on his mother’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t have it any other way, Mother.”
Even Megumi, with his reserved nature, softened at the sight. He had grown up in a household where love was ever-present, and in these simple moments, he felt the profoundness of that love—a legacy that would carry with him.
As their sons shared a warm, understanding look, Utahime leaned into Satoru, grateful beyond words for the life they had created together. Their journey had been filled with countless stolen kisses and tender moments, an affection that had grown richer with every passing year.
In the quiet of that day, surrounded by their family, Utahime and Satoru knew that their love, steadfast and enduring, was a gift that would continue to shape generations to come.