warnings ⋮ ⌗ ┆mdni, brief mention of 18+ content !!!
toji isn’t a sentimental man, he doesn’t cry, he doesn’t let himself feel any negative emotions, if he feels something he simply turns it into anger, into seething rage that he displays in the boxing ring, a wicked grin and piercing eyes, a snarl so cruel it sends a grown man to his knees and leaves you very turned on..
but there’s one thing toji is, and that’s determined to win every match, he’s never left without a victory, and that train of good luck only started when you came into his life.
you both had just started seeing each other, it was casual, nothing more nothing less, and without thinking, when he came up during a five minute break all glistening with sweat and a grin that displayed his sharp teeth, chest rising and falling from exertion, your brain short circuited and you kissed him.
his brain also went haywire although he’ll never admit it to you.
“what the hell was that for?” he’d muttered, brows pinched together, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward like he was trying to fight it.
you shrugged, suddenly shy. “good luck kiss?”
he stared at you for a second, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek before he huffed out a quiet, “tch. dumb.” though he didn’t move away.
he won after that night, and the next after, and after that, a constant loop of victories under his belt.
all because of you, as long as he kisses you, he wins.
sure your kiss probably isn’t magical or anything, but it pumps his body full of adrenaline, makes him want to win, chasing the victory because he has to, because he wants to win when you’re watching, wants to see that look on your face when he walks back victorious.
which is why he’s currently in the ring with his coach beside him, anxiously looking towards the crowd to see if you’re there, you’re not.
toji is not a dramatic man, yet he’s panicking, utterly fucking panicking. he doesn’t think he’s ever been this anxious, leg bouncing up and down in a nervous tick, jaw tight, eyes scanning the crowd every second like if he looks hard enough you’ll magically appear.
“quit lookin’,” his coach mutters, arms crossed. “fight starts in a minute.”
toji clicks his tongue, annoyed. “shut up.”
minutes pass, and he’s about to start, and just when he’s sure you won’t arrive, sure you got caught up in something, that’s when he sees you walking towards the seats. toji looks at the timer, then at his coach’s displeased face because he already knows what toji is about to do, giving him a tiny disapproving nod. toji’s lips curl into a slightly lifted smirk as he stares at the timer now counting down to thirty seconds on the clock.
then he’s jumping off the ring through the ropes, the white rag still clutched between his calloused hands, large body barreling through the unassuming crowd, gripping you with feverish hands, movements urgent as he cages you against him inside a burning kiss, breath hot against your lips as he mutters against your mouth, “need my damn kiss.”
the crowd cheers as he pulls away, lips slick with saliva, deep obsidian blue eyes narrowed, raven hair painting his devilish features in sweat slick strands, lips tugging into a cruel smirk.
“you make me crazy, stupid woman.”
then he’s looking out to the crowd cheering, all while heat pools low in your stomach and something deep at your core tingles.
he wins that match, left with a slight gash to his chapped lip that you’re left to clean, and he’s thanking you afterwards with the brutal snap of his hips, pressed into a mean mating press, his large hands wrapped around your ankles, determined to make up for every victory you’ve handed him.
masterlist - kofi - emergency commissions
note - prob dookie, from the queue.. i wrote this four months ago lol
taglist: @seraphsmuse @xoxojisu @esilek @candiiee @cvnt4him @panchikogirlfriend @lotusstarr @cupkiki @3lenaatvt @the-faceless-bride @badslittlemuffin @dreamcastgirl99 @wonubby @dienamiight @sofi4dsam @kawaiiclubdaily @therefore-evermore @luckybibucky @sk1ppy-art @myths-and-ledgends @icanread-icantwrite @changkyunnnie @twoplayergaymers @socialobligation @calliopemanga @izutwos @doubelieveme @ivankinnieclatter @roronoafushiguroaratakahakari @green-orange-bloom @sparklylanddetective @lem-hhn @gaige312 @ryobaby @hrts4cupid @buuxbear @b00rants @v4mp1r3b4tzz @trilxogyyy @loveergirll @searchingfornothinggg @megumisrighttoe @rarebambi take a look at this post to be added, or removed!
⋮ ⌗ ┆ overview: waking up on stevie’s chest has you noticing things when you didn’t think you could love him more
⋮ ⌗ ┆ tropes: pre-established relationship, steve’s chest hair and happy trail being my fav thing ever, just tooth rotting fluff, no plot mentioned, gender neutral reader!, soft soft soft lover boy steve and reader, reader loving on steve
⌗ ┆ warnings: allusions to smut the previous night, a bit suggestive at times
⋮ ⌗ ┆ a/n: i have been thinking of this scenario non stop for weeks but i was afraid i wouldn’t do it justice. i hope i did
⋮ ⌗ ┆ word count: 1676
The room is quiet and dim in that early morning way that feels earned, delicate, not accidental. Light slips in through the edge of the curtain instead of barging through it, dust motes floating lazily where it lands. Everything smells faintly like Steve, clean laundry, soap, (probably due to the laundry you both got too distracted to finish last night) but there is also something warmer underneath that you don’t have a word for yet. Something smoky, something him. The world outside the bedroom feels distant, unreal, like it’s been muted on purpose.
You’re tucked against him, pressed against his side and half sprawled across his chest, your cheek resting just below his collarbone and above his heart. His arm is heavy around your back, it wasn’t pinning you down, God, Steve never pinned you down. He held you, his arm was just there solid, warm, grounding.
Your body still feels loose in that post-sleep, post-everything haze, limbs uncoordinated, thoughts slow and drifting. There’s a faint ache in your limbs, not unpleasant, just the quiet reminder that you’re real, that last night actually happened.
You’re not fully awake, you are not fully anything. Not tired, just in between dream and reality where everything feels a little better. Or maybe that's just Steve.
Steve breathes beneath you, steady and deep. Every inhale lifts you slightly and every exhale lets you settle back into him. You can hear his heart if you focus, the quiet rhythm of it, the proof that he’s really here. That this isn’t something you imagined in the half-dream state where reality and want blur together. You wouldn’t be surprised if it was.
You shift just a little, careful not to wake him, though part of you isn’t sure whether you want to or not. The sheet slides down his chest as you move, pooling at his waist. Your fingers rest there absentmindedly, tracing nothing in particular, just following the rise and fall beneath your palm.
Your fingers splay idly across his chest, the soft rasp of hair beneath your palm. It’s darker there, thicker toward the center, not perfectly even, curling slightly in places and there’s something grounding about it, the way it makes his chest feel lived-in rather than polished. Your fingers drift lower without thinking, following the faint line that disappears beneath the sheet, that narrow trail like an arrow pointing somewhere you consciously do not follow. Still, the knowledge of it sits warm in your chest, intimate in a way that has nothing to do with urgency or lust. You press your lips briefly into the space just above it instead, breathing him in, feeling absurdly fond of the fact that he’s real like this, hair and all, uncurated, unguarded, entirely himself.
That’s when you really notice them.
His beauty marks. They’re scattered across his skin in a way that feels intentional, like someone dotted them there thoughtfully and then stepped back to admire the work, but they are also something so simple that they look like they were there by pure happenstance, a reverent thing. He was so beautiful.
There were a few near his shoulder, one just above his sternum, another lower, closer to where your hand rests now. You’ve seen them before, noticed them without really seeing them, but now, in the quiet soft cushion of your shared bedroom, they feel important. Like something you want to learn, something you want to worship and appreciate.
You lift yourself slightly, just enough to look at him properly. Steve’s face is turned toward you, lashes resting dark against his cheeks, mouth relaxed in sleep. He looks younger like this. Softer. Nothing like the version of him the world usually sees, the confident one, the joking one, the one who fills space without trying. This Steve feels like a secret, and you are so, so lucky you get to see him like this. Your sweet, sweet boyfriend.
You don’t think about it before you do it. You just lean down, press a gentle kiss to the first beauty mark near his shoulder. It’s barely there, more intention than pressure, your lips lingering for half a second longer than necessary.
Steve shifts beneath you, brow twitching faintly, a quiet sound leaving him, somewhere between a sigh and a breath. You smile to yourself, small and private, and move to the next one.
You kiss another.
And another.
Your kisses are slow, deliberate. Not rushed. Not playful. Each one feels like punctuation, soft markers of attention, of care. You follow them the way your eyes want to, tracing a lazy path downward and then back up, your lips warm against his skin. There’s something grounding about it, about following these tiny markers across his skin, about paying attention in a way that feels almost devout. Each kiss is gentle, unhurried, like you’re afraid of breaking the moment if you rush it. You’re aware, distantly, of how intimate it is. Not in a way that makes your heart race, but in the quieter way that makes your chest feel full. Like this, this is something sacred in its own right.
You move slowly, your lips tracing an uneven path upward. Steve breathes in deeper when you kiss just below his neck, his arm tightening slightly around you, instinctive. His fingers curl into the fabric of his your shirt at your back, grounding himself as he wakes.
“Hey,” he murmurs, voice rough and barely there.
You freeze, lifting your head just enough to see his eyes flutter open. He looks at you for a second like he’s still deciding which reality he’s in. Then his mouth curves into a lazy, familiar smile.
“Morning,” you whisper.
He hums in response, eyes closing again as if that’s all the confirmation he needs, basking in the warmth of your love. “You’re very quiet,” he says, words slurring slightly.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Too late,” he mumbles, but there’s no complaint in it. His hand slips under the shirt where his thumb rubs slow circles against your back. “What’re you doing?”
You hesitate, suddenly self-aware, heat creeping up your neck at the intimacy, taking its place and settling on your cheeks. Steve’s mouth parts, you’re just so gorgeous, he loves waking up to you.
You shrug lightly and hum. “Noticing things.”
He opens one eye, squinting at you. “That sounds ominous.”
You huff softly and lean back down, pressing another kiss to his chest. “You have a lot of beauty marks.” you say simply.
Steve lets out a quiet laugh, chest vibrating beneath your cheek. “Wow. Thank you. I was really hoping you’d bring that up.”
“They’re pretty,” you add, frowning slightly because his tone sounded awfully like self-abasement, and because you are trying to find the right word for how deeply the affection for them runs in you. “You’re pretty, Stevie”
His laughter fades into something softer. You feel him shift beneath you, adjusting so you’re more comfortable, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck.
“I love you,” he says gently.
“I know,” you reply just as softly. “I love you too.”
There's a moment of just appreciation, looking at him and being so permeated with love. The pause is long, long enough that you wonder if he’s going to fall back asleep. He watches you lean down again, watches you kiss another small mark near his collarbone like it’s something precious. His throat bobs when you move higher, when your lips brush the skin just below his neck again.
Steve’s breathing changes, still calm, but deeper now, more aware. His fingers tighten just slightly where they rest against you, like he’s anchoring himself to the moment. You don’t notice at first. You’re focused on the next small mark, on the warmth beneath your lips. It’s only when his fingers brush the side of your neck, gentle, grounding, that you look up meeting his eyes. He’s watching you like he’s not entirely sure what to do with the feeling.
“What?” you ask softly.
He shakes his head, barely perceptible. “Nothing.”
He goes quiet after that, eyes slipping closed again, trusting you not to disappear. You kiss your way slowly upward, pausing occasionally just to rest your cheek against him, to feel his warmth seep into you. There’s no urgency. No need to prove anything. Just the quiet certainty of being wanted and wanting in return.
When you reach near his lip, you hesitate, pressing a kiss there that lingers. Steve exhales shakily. You kiss the last beauty mark on his cheek and then pause, deciding to rest your cheek against his chest again. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear. Fast enough to be noticeable.
A minute passes. Maybe more.
“You’re awake now.” you say quietly.
“Mm,” he hums. “Was anyway.”
Your chest tightens, uncomfortable with sudden shyness and warm all at once. You don’t respond right away, there’s another stretch of silence. Comfortable. Real. The kind that doesn’t need filling. So instead, you press one last kiss just below his jaw, then settle back against him, tucking yourself into the space you seem to fit perfectly.
You nod, even though he can’t see it. “Okay.”
Steve shifts slightly, adjusting so you’re more comfortable, his arm tightening fully around you now. He presses his chin briefly against the top of your head, not quite a kiss, just contact, breathing you in.
“You okay?” he asks.
You think about it. Really think. Because you realise that this is all you’ve ever wanted.
“Yeah,” you say. Then, after a moment, “I love you.”
“Good. Because I love you too.”
Outside, a car passes. Somewhere down the street, a dog barks. The world starts to wake up again. But for now, you stay exactly where you are, neither of you move, for once, you don’t feel the need to go anywhere else. You stay there, listening to him breathe, feeling the warmth of him seep into you. You are so loved, and you love him so much in return, and that feels like enough.
ꨄ︎ likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!
ꨄ︎ do not copy, translate, plagiarise, or feed any of my work into ai
Some cute little headcanons, nothing much, I haven't written in a while, so please forgive me if it seems a bit..off? Idk how to describe it LOLL
REALLY REALLY short and not proof read :)
No warnings, all fluff!!!!
• Telamon holds your hand like you'd blow away at the softest wind, while Shedletsky holds your hand gently and without as much force.
• Telamon holds himself high, especially when it comes to you, always trying to 'impress' you in some way. Shedletsky let's loose, no longer holding himself to such standards. He's more relaxed and willing to 'be himself', aka the biggest dork known to robloxia (he can still lock in don't forget that)
• Telamon is more... medieval with his courtings, as in writing poems, giving you gifts, ect, and is incredibly prideful about it. While Shedletsky is more blunt with how he feels (does not save him from the nervousness and embarrassment).
• Telamon will say anything but 'I love you.', he'll preform it in actions, yes, but he'll never verbally tell you. Not to your face atleast. While Shedletsky WILL say it verbally and makes it VERY VERY KNOWN.
• while both show love very differently, it does not change the fact they love you very much, and both would absolutely beat someone up for you (wink wink)
CW ~ short smoking, reader does weed [may be joking or not], does abbot even smoke?, making shit up as i go, abbot tits appreciation,
A/N ~ quick abbot drabble lalala finally getting an off day oms
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━˚.⋆₊⊹♡
Jack didn't even see you walk up, turned with his eyes vigilant to any incoming paramedics. He just knew one moment he was taking in a puff of that tangy, lingering ash and the next moment a pair of lips were on his.
"Stop smokin'," you murmured, showing up as a surprise greeting to your boyfriend. You knew nights got cold and he simply adored staying longer than he was technically meant to. His cigarette was pulled now inbetween your fingers, dropping it while he was distracted and stepping on it with your heel. "Come do weed with me instead. At least it won't give'ya cancer."
Abbot hummed in quiet amusement, knowing your act by now but still indulging in any chance to see and touch you. His calloused hand reached to cup your cheek, half-heartedly pulling you away if anything not to kiss you deeper while on the clock. "'M not gonna get cancer, hon."
"Maybe," you clicked your tongue, pressing your weight on his as the moonlight breeze picked up. "But you can never be sure. An' how could'ja risk these beauties?" You teased, playfully dragging your finger across his eye-catching upper abdomen.
"Pretty sure you don't get breast cancer from cigarettes," Abbot scoffed, grinning and shoving your hand away with a roll of his eyes. "You come for any reason in particular, or just to play with my tits?"
You pulled your hand to your own chest, huffing indignantly and looking away with a mock pout. "Well, you wound me, sir. Can a boy not see his wonderful wife anymore?"
"Oh, upgraded, have we? 'Wife'?"
"Of course. I yearn for you across the seas, so far away from me while you save lives oh-so-heroically," you egged on, the back of your hand on your forehead and a leg propped up as if you were to faint for good measure. "Oh, Jack, my darling, come back home. The kids miss you."
Your boyfriend gave a gravelly yet honest laugh at your antics, yet playing along anyways and catching you in a tilt. "If by 'kids', you mean 'dogs', then sure. Anything for my love."
You bit back a laugh and playfully pushed Jack's face away when he moved to theatrically kiss you, whom gave a deep sigh of feigned disappointment. "What, no kiss for the heroic wife?"
"I will-" you compromised, turning around a moment to the small bag you brought with you. Producing a good-sized canister of fresh soup, you pushed it into your boyfriend's chest, the warmth of the blue tinted metal seeping into the both of you against the chilled atmosphere. "-if you eat something."
Abbot hummed as if to consider the offering, though really just admiring the way you looked at him; clearly sleepy, but not really wanting to sleep without him. Something that annoyingly plagued you often. "Well, who am I to deny the yearning prince?" He accepted, taking the canister and urging you closer for that kiss he- okay, the both of you- always want more of.
You indulged in toying with the other man's shirt a few seconds more before you pulled away, knowing you had likely already taken too much of Abbot's time at the ER. "Whatever, loverboy," you clicked as if you weren't the exact same way. "Just come home when your shift actually ends instead of stealing the dayshift's job. You're gonna replace everyone at this rate."
"In your dreams, sweetheart," Jack mumbled, a more productive side of him yelling at him to get back in the hospital, but not yet wanting to let go of you. For the time being, his hand lingered on your wrist, a thumb rubbing into the skin as if subconsciously mapping out even the layers he couldn't see.
"I'd hope that's not my dreams." Pulling away before you let this run on into getting one of you in trouble [again], you huffed dramatically. "No, my dreams of you are much, much better."
You’ve been here a lot longer than most people think, looking like someone in their mid 20’s…but that’s far from the truth. You were…well over a hundred years old truly, but why? Humans can’t live for as long as you have, let alone look that young. Well, the answer was the beast that slept below Derry. Pennywise, IT, Robert “Bob” Grey…he took many names, many faces. That was just one of the many confusing things about him.
Pennywise, for as much simplicity as you can get, was a creature you met when you were TRULY 25 years old.
You encountered him during his year of hunting…honestly…a lot of things were a blur that year. And really, it’s been so long that you forgot how you even came to love that monster. But at the same time, you wonder how you became the only thing with a heartbeat that it gave a shit about. What you did understand was that Pennywise was a terrible, evil, and sadistic creature. Yes, he does that to survive…but you always thought he took it too far in some instances but knew he enjoyed it at the same time.
But…it’s not your place to judge an otherworldly eldritch shapeshifting horror.
You knew he loved you…in his own way. Pennywise loved not in the way a human does, not with empathy or a feeling of mutual connection. Not a feeling of equality, vulnerability, nothing like that. No, Pennywise loved more like an animal meant to leave after the reproduction process was finished yet stuck around anyway. Pennywise’s love showed as possession, a claim over your life, anger towards any possible “threat” to you being its mate and bothering you none stop when he wasn’t hunting.
You’ve grown used to his tricks at this point, every 27 years when you see him, he still tries to scare you. Sometimes he’s successful, but you’ve grown old and apathetic enough that you have stopped caring about fear. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t killed you yet, without fear you wouldn’t taste as good, so he just doesn’t bother. Whatever the true reason was, he’s never truly hurt you…well…not in an aggressive trying to kill you way. No, like…like how bites and scratches is the only way a beast knows how to show physical love.
You’ve stopped questioning it, he eases your loneliness for the year he’s awake. Can’t really make friends when you’ll just outlive them and they’ll question why you don’t look a day over 25 when they’re old and wrinkly. He’s the one constant you got, perhaps that’s his own sadistic humor towards you too.
You have no one who’ll remain by your side. No one but him…
Notes: Unreliable narrator, angst, forbidden love, breaking the jedi code, oneshot (might do a part 2? Dunno), not much maul in this 😔, short, set a little bit after order 66, gender neutral reader, might also do a prequel of reader and Maul reuniting during the clone wars.
Pain. And sadness.
Those were the only things that followed you now. No laughter, no cheap jabs, not even a tight smile. You were a shell of your former self. You almost scoffed as you went down memory lane. You were naive and rebellious back the–having grown up in the order since you were two, you longed for the outside world, yearned to have one normal night. You never knew what it felt like so you continuosly pushed your master and the council for it, complaing about the code. They scolded you constantly, and as you grew you stuck to your views, you could never grow out of them. And after one particular scolding from a council member—looking back on it you couldn't believe they let you stay in the order—you left the temple in the middle of the night. Finding yourself in a seedy underground bar. And that's where you met him. He was quiet and unnerving, but he had this arua around him that spoke to you. And he...he wanted you.
He gave you what you desired, handed it to you on a silver platter, and you....oh you...you ate it straight out of his hand. You were intoxicated with passion, drunk on it. And he was the mastermind behind it. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear, making you feel safe, loved, comforted. And making you forget. Forget he was sith. Forget about the code. Forget about your master. So he could turn you. Design you into what you hated and stand by his side. And you could not let that stand.
"Was it all a lie!?" You shouted, your light saber in hand as he stood there speechless. He couldn't move. He was stuck in place, his pupils dilated as he stared at you. You almost felt sorry for him. Almost. "Be reasonable!" He shouted. "It was nothing like that! And you know it!" The rest of your fight was a blur. The only thing you can remember after that is running. Running as fast as you can, while tears flew down your face.
You could sometimes still hear him screaming your name in quiet moments. And sometimes you swore you could feel his presence. And it was gnawing at you, had he found you through the bond? No...No you shut off the bond years ago! It couldn't be possible. You shivered slightly, your arms wrapping around you as you sat down in an alleyway. You had nowhere to stay, no money, and no food. Maker, you had spent your last credits getting to this kriffing planet! You groaned as your mind continued to wander, before gently closing your eyes for just a few seconds then opening them again. And yet when you opened them again you were still alone.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ welcome to lisey's 500 follower celebration!
, (asks for the celebration will be open from may 31 until june 20, 2026. requests submitted before or after the listed timeline will be deleted.)
i just wanna say thank you so much to everyone who helped me reach this milestone. i've been writing on tumblr since 2023 & the amount of sweet, gorgeous, amazing people i have met through here just baffles me every day. liseytopia is more than just a blog; it's my community full of people i love that keep me motivated & bring a smile to my face, it's a reason for my happiness, & so much more. i love you guys sososo much, whether you're a longtime mutual or someone stopping by.
⋆ ₊ ⟡ a few quick notes & rules..
— i am not accepting nsfw requests for this celebration.
— i ask you to keep all requests short, concise, & clear! only one request is allowed per ask, but you may send in as many asks as you heart desires.
— please stick to the character & person list & prompts below!
— for writing requests, i will be writing short blurbs rather than full fics in order to stay on top of requests as they come in.
𑣲 with that out of the way.. let the party begin!
⋆ ₊ ⟡ characters & people..
malcolm todd. jj maybank. rafe cameron. diego hargreeves. five hargreeves. steve harrington. lisa rowe. dominic fike. art donaldson. dallas winston. finnick odair. riff lorton. jess mariano. rodrick heffley. nate archibald. jack abbott. lila pitts.
. CHATEAU — send in a character or person + a prompt & i will write a short blurb!
. EARRINGS — send in your own headcanon about one of the characters or people on the list & i will expand on it in a drabble!
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. AUGUSTINE — send in a song lyric (please include the song & artist) + a character or person for a blurb!
. MAROON — send in any typical ask games! kiss marry kill, would you rather, favorites, anything you can think of!
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ vip section .. mutuals only!
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⋆ ₊ ⟡ mutual tags; don't feel pressured to participate, we're all here just to have fun!
You sigh, your hands running through your husband's hair. You knew the taunting didn't bother him much any more. You knew he also tended to put on a brave face to keep you from worrying about him. But worry you did, all day for him. You knew that even as he pretended everything was okay, it still bothered him.
"Thick skin, darling" he would remind you every time someone would say something out of pocket for him. Like what happened just a half hour before now.
Some of the commoners of the tavern you two were staying at were casting jabs at him. From his height, to his overly elegant way of speaking. To even the way his hair parted.
Most of it rolled off of his back, his full attention on you as you spilt an ale and some finger foods. Until they uttered the one thing he hated to hear.
"She's too good for him. She'll wake up one day and abandon him." One of the men started, pointing at you over his shoulder. Another nods.
"Probably an arranged marriage, the poor lass." He cackles out, thowing you a sloppy wink. You grimace, before something catches your eye. Tyrions expression had turned sour.
He hated when people dragged you into their jabs. Especially when they spoke his own worries- he was deathly afraid of losing you.
You noticed his demeanor change almost immediately. You frown and take the last swig of the ale before standing. Your hands found a home on your hips as you stomped up at the table of drunk men.
"Excuse me-" you begin, before getting cut off by a chorus of whistles and kissy noises.
"Finally coming over to see a real man?" One slurs out, leaning forward to look at you better. You make a disgusted looked, before scoffing.
"No," you try again, continuing when youre sure you wouldn't be cut off. "Im here to set the record straight. I aske for his hand in marriage, not the other way around. Because while you disgusting lowlifes lounge around taverns, he can take me to countries you'd never witness. Along with how well endowed he is."
You could see Tyrion hide his face behind his hands, shaking his head. You could almost hear him mutter "stubborn woman.."
With that, satisfied with the confused looks on the mens faces, you walk back over to your husband and practically drag him back to the room you were in for the night.
Almost as soon as the door shut, you were dragging him to the bed. He tried to protest, a few "darling please-" and "Calm down, my love" would fall from his lips pointlessly. He gave up completely when you laid yourself down, yanking him to lay next to you.
His head found a comfortable spot on your chest as you started to stroke at his hair. Your nails traced patterns down his jaw and neck, causing him to let out a content sigh.
"My beautiful darling," he starts, a soft laugh in his voice. "Storming out of there did not leave a good impression."
You hum, a soft smirk gracing your features. "Perhaps they think I am showing you how much I love you. How unlikely I am to leave you."
He rolls his eyes as you cup his jaw, making you look up at him. He lets out a breathy chuckle and nods.
"Yes, you are stuck with me." He jokes, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You hold the kiss for a moment, thumb stroking his cheek before pulling back.
"You've got it twisted, my love. You are stuck with me." You smile at his, pressing a kiss to his forehead before pulling him to lay back down.
