#Throne of Glass moments

[acourtofquestions]

"I stopped caring," Asterin said at last.

"About anything and everything. After that, it was all a joke, and a thrill, and nothing scared me."

That wildness, that untamed fierceness ...

They weren't born of a free heart, but of one that had known despair so complete that living brightly, living violently, was the only way to outrun it.

[brainrotcharacters]

What was that about a nasty dog?

I have the fucking receipts ☝️🤓 https://www.thesprucepets.com/dog-body-language-bared-teeth-1118207#:~:text=In%20most%20cases%2C%20when%20a,precursor%20to%20more%20serious%20aggression.

[pergaminaa]

ok for the sake of being true to canon the valg prince possessing Dorian did get scared of Manon and retreated for a few moments allowing the real Dorian to finally gain control.

And what did my man do? You'd think he'll ask for help or something along these lines, but nope. The only moments of freedom he had he used to rizz up the witch I mean priorities right???

[morganofthewildfire]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stolen Moment

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Just wrote this in an hour lol, don’t know what to say, but I like the vibes 😊 it reminds me of Ivy

~ 1k words

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The Terrasenian Countryside, 1839

The orchard was quiet, like it always was. The silence was only punctuated by the lilting sounds of the outdoors: the birds singing in the flowering blooms, the insects buzzing around and floating in the summery breeze, that same breeze flitting through the branches of the trees, and of course the sounds of his paintbrush darting across the canvas.

There were no words that passed between him and his muse, though her blue eyes were trained on him with the whisper of a thousand hidden secrets.

Rowan Whitethorn knew they were playing with fire, but the risk made the moment that much more charged. If anyone were to discover them… for multiple reasons it would lead to either his banishment or his death.

There was no other possible consequence should anyone happen upon them. Not that there should be; they were out at his small house in the countryside, tucked back in the corner of his sprawling acreage, the hidden garden behind the fields of farmland. It was not harvest season, there’d been no need for field hands in the recent days, no one had any reason for being in the vicinity of them.

He did most of the labor himself, saving his art for the few spare moments he could manage to wrangle for himself. It was a secret he didn’t share often; only a few people knew of it. His friend and main field hand, Lorcan, who he’d served in the war with, and Lorcan’s wife Elide both knew.

The painting had started as a way of processing after the war, and Lorcan was the only one who could really understand the horrors that had driven him to this outlet. Elide worked on the farm as well, and had stumbled across his collection of paintings when delivering some of the milk from the cows one morning.

They lived together in a cabin not far from him, and Rowan considered the farm theirs too; they felt more like the true owners than him, though he’d been the one to inherit the land from his father. He didn’t want it, it wasn’t his dream, though he preferred the solitary life it provided.

He didn’t need the pains of social interaction, nor the struggle of trying to constantly pretend. He was fine being alone… or he had been. Until he met her.

Rowan’s eyes lifted from the canvas, landing on the feminine form sprawled on her side on the chaise he’d dragged out here for this purpose. Her head rested on her arms, one leg curled over the other to showcase the delicate curves clothed in a satin chemise, the neckline slipping down her shoulder to show miles of creamy skin. Her golden hair was smoothed in gentle waves, flowing down her back, and those blue eyes of hers remained trained on him.

Aelin Galathynius - Miss Aelin Galathynius - was forbidden to him. It was an idea he couldn’t even dare to foster, and yet here she was, half dressed and alone with him as he studied her form closer than likely anyone ever had.

The Galathynius family was one of the most esteemed families in all of Terrasen, not quite nobility but close to it. They were wealthy, and high ranking, and untouchable for someone like him.

But when it came to their only daughter, Rowan simply couldn’t stay away.

Their country estate wasn’t far from his land, a few miles or so, but it remained unoccupied most of the time. He’d known it belonged to them, but it wasn’t until a few seasons ago that he’d laid eyes on a member of the family. And it just so happened to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Miss Galathynius - Aelin - had been out for a ride on her Asterion mare nearby when an unexpected storm had struck. Her horse had spooked at the crack of thunder, throwing her rider off onto the muddy ground. Rowan had been out assessing damage to the crops when he’d come across her sprawled form.

After helping her up and checking to make sure she was okay, a conversation had struck. She’d been charming, and witty, with the widest smile he’d ever seen, and he’d fallen head over heels practically immediately.

He hadn’t realized who she was.

He learned soon enough, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to reach out to him, and he didn’t have enough self control to stop himself from reaching back out to her, so here they were. He’d confessed his love of painting not long into their acquaintance, and she’d finally convinced him to let her pose for him. He couldn’t say no, no matter the consequences.

If anyone caught them right now, she’d be ruined. If anyone ever found this painting, then he’d be dead.

Because she was to be married soon. She’d told him, though she hadn’t needed to. He’d seen the ring on her finger.

He couldn’t expect anything different. She was eighteen years of age, from a distinguished family. She was sure to have offers by the plenty. Her family had just seemingly finally found the perfect one.

At twenty one, Rowan knew he was likely closer in age to her than several of those offers, but he knew he would never have even been considered. A few decades ago, he’d be beheaded for even daring to put forward his proposal.

His heart ached as he dragged his paintbrush along the canvas, smoothing out the perfect curve of her hip, and the dip of her waist where his hand so perfectly fit. They hadn’t done anything, had never even kissed.

If Aelin were to be discovered as anything but a virgin on her wedding night, then Hellas would rain down on them both.

So Rowan ignored the aching in his chest and the urges of his hands and just enjoyed the stolen moment the best he could. This was leading to ruin, and they both knew it.

But he would savor whatever little piece of her he could get.

——-

Taglist:

@wordsafterhours

@romancinghollywood

@superspiritfestival

@wishfulimaginings

@larisssss

@punkassbookjockey26

@shyvioletcat

@aelinchocolatelover

@s-uppertime

@leiawritesstories

@elentiyawhitethorn

@backtobl4ck

@goddess-aelin

@fromthelibraryofemilyj

@justreadertings

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life e

@swankii-art-teacher

@tomtenadia

@highqueenofelfhame

@firestarsandseneschals

@thegreyj

@mariamuses

@house-of-galathynius

@rowanaelinn

@llyncooljones

@story-scribbler

@charlizeed

@bookcide

@elizarikaallen

@slytherhys

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@rowaelinrambling

@courtofjurdan

@peppermint-fae

[diamonata]

Want to talk about

✨The Pattern?✨

Here we go (SJM spoilers all):

Isaac -> Tamlin -> Rhys

Reid -> Connor -> Hunt

Dorian -> Chaol -> Rowan

... see what I'm getting at here?

Thomas -> random dude -> Cassian

Celaena -> Sorscha -> Manon

Celaena -> Nesryn -> Yrene

Get my drift?!?!

Mor -> Elain -> Gwyn (or Eris 😉)

Jesminda -> Vassa(?) -> Elain

Cassian -> Andromache -> Emerie

[lilyharvord]

It ain’t my business to come up with another AU cause I’ve got four in the oven cooking and one that almost done rising and is waiting to go in the oven, but I’m a feral gremlin and I love Red Queen so its not my fault. Anyway the Star Wars AU is once again on my mind, so I will pull a chunk of my brain out and somehow project what I see to you all. 

- Mare is a smuggler/pirate who works for a medium sized smuggling organization that specializes in playing both side of the divide (Rebel and Imperial). They’re clients kind of know but because they are so good at getting their hands on everything (information, tech, weapons, codes) they’re allowed a free pass from both sides to do what they want so long as they don’t try anything serious. She gets to wear sick ass pants with lots of pockets that she likes to put things in (steal more like), a hip gun holster (the kind that sort of wraps around both legs and the waist) and a white loose shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Sometimes she wears a cool hat with a low bun that lets her hair fall out in chunks on the sides. Aka she’s a sewer rat that somehow got into a fancy organization and made her way up to the top levels by just being fucking ruthless and also very good and getting people to give her what she wants (aka she has the Force but has no fucking clue). 

- Cal is an Imperial Colonel for the Navy who comes from a very, very wealthy and important family that is very close to the Emperor. He is young, and everyone says he has a super bright future ahead of him. He’s good at war, and that makes him dangerous. Secretly, he’d rather be in his garage tuning up older speeders and racing them. And he may or may not be soft to the Rebellion’s cause, on an ideological basis of course. He’s a stauch believer in the Empire and “what they do for the galaxy by providing protection, support, and management to what would otherwise be a system riddled with anarchy and collapsing infrastructure”. Someone did start a rumor (which may or may not have actually been true, but the grunt was very drunk in said cantina and their word was very suspect) that they saw him in disguise listening to what was Rebel propaganda in a backwater cantina while they were planet side. He mostly plays by the rules but he’s not afraid to get his hands a little dirty or bend the rules to win. He finds out about a smuggling organization that straddles the line and hires them to get him information that he needs for an up coming campaign. Which is how he meets a scrappy, no nonsense smuggler who he believes is more like a pirate, that makes his start to question exactly what the Empire does. 

- Maven is from the same wealthy, prosperous family as Cal. He holds a military position (much lower level, he does not see much action), but is more involved in the government (or the sham of it provided to the people to keep the placated). He is very close to the Emperor, and for good reason. He has unique talents of his own that he keeps to himself but uses them when and only if they are needed. He is a spy, and his mother has brilliant ambitions for him and their family. He may have his own ambitions though, and his teeth while sharp are hidden well... 

- Diana Farley is a leader in the Alliance, who has been fighting most of her life against the oppression of the Empire. She fights with her teeth and her claws, but when a seriously dangerous bit of information is stolen along with a datapad that holds Alliance base locations and other important information from a member of her squadron, she enlists the help of a member of a smuggler organization that’s not afraid to go behind Imperial lines to retrieve things. She refused to be left in the dark though, and ends up joining the hunt, even against her superiors wishes...

- Shade Barrow is given orders to retrieve a data pad with invaluable information on it. Deeply sympathetic to the Alliance’s cause, he is more than willing to go behind Imperial lines in his beat up ship to save them all. He’ll need to enlist the help of his little sister who has a deep foothold in a certain Colonel’s camp to retrieve the information which could put them both in the line of deadly fire, that is... if he doesn’t get killed by the beautiful and dangerous Rebel stowaway he somehow managed to pick up. 

[sserrafeim]

Yrene showed up just a little before the series ended and stole the show and I respect her for that

[vices-aand-virtues]

@ all the women in the Throne of Glass series: I love you. I would die for you.

@ all the men in Throne of Glass (except Sartaq): eh take you or leave you ig.

[noobsydraws]

I can't stop thinking about the last battle from Kingdom of Ash.

[acourtofquestions]

“"You taught Aelin." Again, silence. Then, "Aelin is my heart. I taught her what I knew, and it worked because our magics understood each other deep down— Just as our souls did."

Dorian nodded his thanks. "The first time you met Aelin, did you know ...?"

A snort. "No. Gods, no. We wanted to kill each other." The amusement flickered. "She was ... in a very dark place. We both were. But we led each other out of it. Found a way together."”

credit: @ALICEMARIAPOWER

[brainrotcharacters]

tell me I'm wrong

[pergaminaa]

In a modern AU Aelin would not believe that Dorian’s daughter, at the ripe age of fifteen months would simply walk to her crib and lay down to nap without making any fuss. She has kids of her own, she knows it’s a scam.

She was visiting Dorian one afternoon, and true to what he described: the small child started sucking on her fingers, a sign she was getting sleepy.

“You want to sleep?” Dorian asked his daughter while walking her to the nursery, Aelin in tow.

Arriving at the nursery, Dorian placed the small child in her crib, and she laid down and closed her eyes, falling asleep without as much as make a fuss.

Aelin still didn’t believe it, even though she was seeing it with her own eyes. She has multiple children and nap time is never this peaceful and children naturally reject naps??? Why is Dorian’s kid like this???

“How do you do this?” Unable to contain her curiosity she asked him when they left the nursery a moment later. The infant not making any sound or being upset that she’s left alone. To Aelin, this is not normal.

“Do what?” Dorian asked.

“That. She just goes to sleep without a fuss?”

“Usually. She knows when she’s tired and when we suggest sleep she’s compliant,” Dorian explained. “Although she has her moments, sometimes she refuses to sleep and end up being fussy and cranky,” Now that sounds like a normal infant behavior, not the compliant child that listens to her body’s needs.

“Dorian, you know that cranky is the default when it comes to sleep, right?”

“I guess we got lucky,” Because he appreciates that his child isn’t like most. It could be because of how they parent her, or it’s just her temperament.

Although, if he’s being honest, he knows that his little daughter takes after her mother in more than just looks. It is a fact he is aware of, one that never fails to bring a smile to his face.

[hidiustd]

sometimes i want to use this profile for silly little posts about books i'm reading or just as a digital diary and then i forget i have a tumblr for a few months

and here i am again :)

[thestuffedalligator]

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin. They both looked down at the crumpled shape of the Overlord, His Unholy Majesty, in his obsidian armor.

His final spasms had been mesmerizingly acrobatic. The fall down the steps leading up to his iron throne had pretzelled his body quite impressively, both arms folded behind his back and one leg bent at a jaunty angle.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

"We're likely to get blamed for this," the goblin said. She walked over to the head of the glittering mangled heap and started pulling the helmet off.

"It's not our fault," the orc said. "It's hard to help someone choking when they wear two-hundred pounds of spiked armor at all times."

"Yeah, well," the goblin grunted. The helmet came free, and the bald head of the Overlord bounced on the stone with a hollow, coconut noise. "You know how it is in this bloody country - thieves get their heads cut off so they can't think about thieving, and all that." She fished in the Overlord's mouth with a finger and pulled out the obstructing olive on the end of her claw.

She popped it into her mouth and chewed. "What do you reckon they do for a regicide?" she said.

"We should run," the orc said. She had started bouncing her leg. "I hear that there's some places in the Alliance where they just kill you and let you stay dead. That's got to be nicer than what'll happen if we stay here."

The goblin started to nod - and then her gaze fell on the helmet.

It looked like a pineapple designed by a deranged blacksmith. It was all thorns and spikes and hard edges, as though the maker had been very determined to not let pigeons roost on it. The only bits that weren't solid iron were eyeholes. Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face.

She held up the helmet and squinted from it to the orc. One of the thorns had been bent badly in the fall.

Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face...

"Right," she muttered. "Right. Could work - or."

The orc had a sudden vision of the immediate future. "No," she said.

"I mean you're about his height-"

"No."

"It would just be for a-"

"Absolutely not."

"Just hear me out," the goblin said. "Outside of this room are two-thousand men and orcs and goblins who are absolutely gonzo about this man, and there's a whole country of them outside of the castle, and at any moment someone's going to walk in that door and see one dead tit in black armor and two unbelievably dead idiots next to him.

"Or." She tossed the helmet up like a basketball to the orc, who fumbled and tried to find somewhere to hold it that wasn't a knife's edge. "We chuck him out the window now, walk out the door in the armor, and ditch the armor as soon as nobody sees us."

The orc had started bouncing her leg again. "They'll know something's up the second I walk out of the room."

"No worries," said the goblin. "Leave that to me."

---

It had been a very strange year for the Empire.

Change had rolled across the land as slow and inevitable as a glacier. Roads and bridges carved the gray, blasted wildlands, and a number of social reforms had made the country a place where you could be miserable, yes, but miserable in comfort and safety, and that was an improvement.

Barely anyone got boiled alive in molten metal, and even if the disgusted sun never rose to light the Empire, at least you had a roof over your head to protect yourself from the acid rain.

"Your empire flourishes, Your Unholy Majesty," the magician said over her wine glass. She looked down from the tower's balcony over the gleaming stone battlements. Some work had been done to line the castle and surrounding city with sizzling, crackling alchemical lights at night. The whole thing glowed like something dangerously radioactive.

The suit of armor waved a languid, glittering gauntlet over to the goblin, who bowed.

"His Abominable Gloriousness Thanks You," the goblin recited. "The Prosperity Of His Empire Can Only Be Achieved Through The Prosperity Of His People."

"If I may be so bold, I am quite pleased that you had chosen to take my counsel under consideration," said the magician. "We have accomplished many things together."

Another wave. Another bow. "The Overlord, May His Presence Swallow The Sun And Stars, Thanks You As Well."

"It was quite gratifying to see you change your mind, after so many centuries of denial." The wine was swirled. "Tell me, what was it that finally gave you cause to listen to me?"

There was the slightest hesitation. The goblin's eyes flicked to the armor, then to the magician. She puffed out her chest. "Do you question the wisdom of His Austere Lugubriousness?" she asked.

The magician looked at the goblin. She looked at the armor. She tipped her head back and drank the wine too quickly.

She looked back at the armor. "I know you're the orc, you moron," she said.

The room went deathly still. An alchemical light fizzled.

The orc pulled off the helmet, sending long, untied hair down tangling, and said: "How could you possibly-"

"Because you're both idiots!" the magician said. The goblin jumped. The orc jumped with a noise like a dropped stove. "What kind of a plan was this?! If it wasn't for me, you would have been turned into fertilizer months ago."

She closed her eyes. She took a long, dramatic breath. She set the wine glass down on the balcony rail.

"How did the Overlord die?" she asked when she seemed like she had gotten a hold over herself.

"Choked on an olive," said the goblin.

"Threw his body out the window," said the orc.

"You don't have to mention the window," said the goblin.

"Right," said the orc. "Sorry."

The magician looked out over the city, hand curled thoughtfully under her nose. "Who knows about this?"

"Just us. And, uh. You. Apparently."

"And why did you accept my counsel?"

The orc blinked. "Sorry?"

"Why did you accept my counsel?" the magician repeated.

"Well," the orc said. "Well - you seemed like you had good ideas-"

"Great ideas!" the goblin said with an edge of desperation. "Don't know why the old bastard didn't listen to you!"

"Right - right," said the orc. "And when we figured we were stuck doing this - well, it just made sense, really."

The magician seemed to absorb this. She nodded. "All right," she said, striding between the two and grabbing the crystal decanter.

"Um," said the orc. "Sorry. What happens now?"

"What happens is that you two will continue to serve as Overlord," said the magician. "You will continue to take my counsel. We will continue to reform this bloody country, and gods willing, we will turn it into the crown jewel of the world by next Midwinter."

The orc looked at the goblin. The goblin looked at the orc.

"Really?" the goblin asked.

"Oh yes," said the magician. "I've worked hard to be counsel to the Overlord, and I have no reason to stop now. And besides-"

She looked the orc up and down with a deliberate slowness, poring over every microscopic detail, eyes tracing over every jagged line, and grinned like a panther.

"You look much better in the armor than he ever did," she said. Dark robes swirled like a becleavaged thundercloud, and she strode out through the high iron doors, decanter in hand.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

[screampied]

thinking about kuna's gf trying to convince him to let her paint his long nails 😃

✩ ‧ ˚. — tags ⋮ fem! reader, pure fluff, heian! era sukuna, panting his nails, meanie kuna but he’s a softie, petnames: little one, woman, girl.

“no.”

a downcasted frown drags against your glossed lips once you sigh. sitting on no one other than sukuna’s lap, you huff out a single vexed breath. “huhh. what do you mean no, i didn’t even ask my question yet.”

“exactly,” he replies in a low voice, leaning back against the ancient, comfortable throne. for a fleeting moment, dark, sinister eyes stare into yours before he cocks his head. “you’re gonna ask me another one of your imprudent questions.”

“kuna, just let me ask you the question,” you protest, straddling the king of curses— it was never a dull moment with him, regardless of how grumpy he turns out to be. knowing sukuna, he’s almost always grumpy. his eyes gaze into you a bit longer and he then brings his thickset upper arms to cross near his chest, a cute pout on his lips as he waits for you to finish speaking. “pretty please?”

“…….fine,” he gives in, aware that you were probably gonna persist on asking him for who knows how many more times. with a sigh, he tilts his head at you. “what is it you wish to ask me, little one?”

smug grin and all, you pick up his broad hand that was so much larger than yours, brushing a thumb against his wrist before cooing, “can i paint your nails, sukuna?”

“no.”

“sukuna!”

he’s leaning back against his throne, the well raised chair sitting up all high and mighty—one of his arms repose near the lower part of his torso and wraps around your hip, pulling you closer.

“you already know what my answer was gonna be, no?” and this time, you give him a pout.

dewey red-shot eyes peer into you for a lengthy amount of time before he groans. that cute little pout of yours, you never fail to make everything so hard for him. “hmph. why do you want to paint my nails? they’re clearly already painted, woman.”

he’s trying..

you hold back a giggle before bringing one of his hands up to your face.

glimmering eyes focus on his nails, how naturally long they were— he had a point though, they were pretty much already painted. full on richly black, the tips of them were oh-so sharp he’d be able to cut about just anything. still, you wanted to paint his nails yourself. you couldn’t really come up with a good enough answer, so you just shrug.

“i just want to,” you hum in a soft voice, intertwining your fingers with his.

he scoffs, showing little to no reaction. with a puny eyebrow raise, you feel his right thigh start to gradually bounce. “please, ryooo,” you mutter, tugging your eyebrows into a pleading, needy furrow. “this way, we can match.”

“goodness, you’re so annoying,” he grumbles, watching your grin stretch as you dangle your own hand up in front of his face.

dark cruel eyes stare at your nails, observing how well manicured and painted they were. he sighs again, uttering out a raspy, “very well,” and he sits manspread, reaching for a nearby tiny table that resides against his infamous throne. “you may paint my nails. just this once.”

with a precious giggle, you grab about two bottles nail polish from your pocket, gently placing his hand down against the porcelain glass table. he’s keeping a sharp eye on you, rolling his eyes at how ecstatic you were on this. the way you treated his hands with such care—that cute little smile never once departing from your sheeny lips,

the moment you twist off the black tight cap that sticks onto the bottle like glue, the strongly loud aroma of the polish hits against his flared nostrils.

it’s heavily strong, the familiar scent of acetone wafts against his domain entirely.

“stay still, ‘kuna.” you whisper, gathering a good amount of polish. for a moment, you swear you could have heard a low growl escape from him.

oh, you were testing his patience.

you were testing sukuna ryōmen’s patience and he was letting you.

“good, good.” you give him a closed-eye smile.

“do not praise me,” he snarls, and he’s already embarrassed. his tone made an attempt to come across as more stern and assertive, but it was just so cute.

with daunting, glaring eyes, he watches silently at the way you softly brush the tip against his nail.

each individual nail took a few seconds each— oddly enough, it was wholly soothing for a while.

“hmph,” he bleats, feeling the softness of your hand skin against his hand every so often. you were so thorough, so precise.

delicately, you lay the brush flat against the bed of his nail. the bristles coat against the layer of his nail and you feel a brief coldness of air fan against your skin. it was rather amusing to watch you pay so close attention to him, to his hands. “hm,” he raises a brow for probably the nth time today. still scowling, his face softens a bit— you had him all relaxed. “you’re quite good at that, i must admit.”

“aw. thank you,” you cheese. with a grin, you give him a cute exuberant glance, pulling up his ring finger to paint the entire part of his nail with a freshly new coat. “how’s it feel?”

sukuna groans, not liking how sentimental this moment was. the entire mood was so … soft.

you made him feel soft— he always thought things like that just wasn’t possible. especially with someone as such as him.

who would have thought that painting the almighty sukuna ryomen’s nail’s would have him falling for you ten times harder . . ?

“it’s … good,” he utters in a gruff tone, and you’re just about done.

his eyes linger toward your hands for a long time, you’re still placed on his lap before you feel the curse’s lower arms grip against your waist tightly. you felt a feeling of abrupt security and it was quite nice. within his touch, you always felt secure. moments with him like this, you’d never be anywhere else. “hurry up though, my thigh’s cramping.”

“oh shut up.” you roll your eyes with a snicker, bringing the brush towards his pinky now. he sticks it out for you, staying still as possible before you pause— dipping it back into the glass teensy bottle, swirling it, delving it around the inner crevices of the glass before finishing up his final finger.

the audacity,

the audacity of telling him to shut up, you must have been out of your mind.

but truth be told, sukuna has somewhat of a sweet spot for you. it made him kiss his teeth in sheer exasperation. he wasn’t used to such tender forms of affection. part of him wonders just why you’re always so warm to him. treating him with such care, he’s the king of curses after all, and yet here he is— acting like his long lost self, the king of love..

“alllll done,” you harmonize, he looks down to see the final results. with low hooded eyes, sukuna stares at his sharp nails— once black, now a light pinkish color. his mouth dangles opens and his face scrunches up, eyebrows curling together and it’s hilarious. for once, sukuna ryomen was speechless. “i know right? you’re gonna get so many compliments, ‘kuna.”

“you did not just paint my nails pink, woman,” he huffs out a grunt, you lean up close to him with a coy, impish look. “the nerve is beyond me..”

you giggle, flashing off your nails in his face, the two of you now having the same exact color. “oh, don’t be a baby. see, now we’re matching,” and his face is still all scrunched up. god, you had him feeling a feeling he didn’t even know he could feel. his stomach’s tight, churning ridiculously, his heart’s racing, and even his palms start to sweat. “with your long nails, you pull it off so well, heh.”

sukuna kept asking himself the same question the more he avoids eye contact.

why must you be so so cute..?

not a single reply comes from his mouth, instead he just crosses his arms into a mere fold. “mhm,” is all he replies with, tilting his head before resuming his words with an obstinate grouse. “whatever. but i’ll have you know that pink is not my color.”

you titter. “oh? what is your color then, my lord?”

you were being a brat, he sends you daggers before regretting he even said that— you always had the higher up on him, every single time.

“tch. nevermind that,” sukuna scorns, and his pout was so adorable.

pink stretched lips compressing together, stubborn as usual.

he brings his hand towards his face before exhaling lowly. “what in the— the nerve of you to put little sparkles on it too,” and he watches your smile beam at his live reaction. “i … don’t know what i’m gonna do with you.”

“you can start by thanking me,” you tease, planting your lips against his cheek.

he tenses up, the softness of your lips giving him whiplash for a moment. every time you present him either something as simple as a kiss, he was never prepared for it. “fine. thank you,” and as his bulky lower arms snake around your waist, he meets your brightly dilated irises. “are ya finished? i need a nap.”

“so old,” you stroke his cheek, and that earns a glare from him. “it’s not even the afternoon yet,” and you gift him with another mwah, the contact that your sweet lips provides has him growing more and more flustered. “but yes, i’m done ‘kuna. thank you.”

“…..good,” he responds after a long seven second pause. sukuna’s scowling before he finally returns your eye contact. his face was slowly getting more flustered from each kiss you give him before he tsks. “ah ah,” he creates a swift hand motion, “off my lap now, you’ve had your fun.”

you frown. “aw,” a sweet disappointed tone hiding underneath your voice. he’s then taken aback once he feels your humanly hands sneak their way into his hair. pink slightly curled up strands of his was a bit messy and tangled. the curse was still publicly pouting, studying your every move before you get an idea. “hm. one more thing though?”

he exhales. “what.”

“can i do your hair? i found some bows and—”

“count your days, girl.”

“stop flirting with me, ‘kuna.”

“….foolish woman,” and after a long dreadful pause, sukuna pouts yet again. so cute, his arms remain crossed before he speaks through annoyingly gritted teeth, an almost smile pokes through his lips that conceals his fangs. “fine. you may do my hair…. or whatever.”

[floatyflowers]

Dark! House Of The Dragon x Game of Thrones! Reader|Part 3

<<< Part 2

Jacaerys is in love with the idea of being a father.

In fact he took Aemma riding on the back of Vermax right after she was born just like his great grandmother Alyssa did with Viserys, just for excitement.

Rhaenyra, loves Aemma and teared up when you named the baby after her mother, she even thought about wedding Aegon III to her when they reached adulthood.

After arriving to King's Landing, the first thing you see is Aemond training while you stand beside Jace and Luke watching him, as you hold your sleeping daughter in your arms.

Jacearys felt jealous on how Aemond took away your attention.

Despite, the real reason why you are impressed by Aemond's skills, is because it reminded you of your uncle/father Jaime, you always loved to watch him train.

While training Aemond notices you and stops, eyeing you and the baby intensely which made you uncomfortable.

All Aemond could feel was anger and jealousy, because you were supposed to be his.

When Vaemond arrives, you prepare yourself and your daughter, you show up dressed in the colors of House Velaryon.

"Vaemond has forgotten that Lady Rhaenys descends from the house Baratheon on her mother's side, Also my daughter, princess Aemma..."

You stand in the middle of the throne room, holding your daughter up proudly for everyone to see her white hair and purple eyes.

Even if you and Jace are the children of Harwin Strong, but your daughter inherited Rhaenyra's appearance, your mother's genes skipped a generation.

Vaemond, decided to insult you and call you and your mother 'whores' as you return back to your husband and mother's side.

Of course, in a spin of seconds, Daemon sliced the Velaryon's man head in half, as Jacaerys blocked yours and Aemma's view.

However, Jace was smirking, happy at what his stepfather did.

Later that day at the feast, Jace and Luke made a promise to you that they would behave and ignore whatever Aemond and Aegon say.

When Jace asked to dance with you at the feast, you objected, insisting on him dancing with Helaena instead.

Aegon and Aemond thought that your marriage wasn't the best with your twin due to how you turned Jace down.

Things escalated when the pig gets placed on the table and Luke whispers a joke in your ear at the exact moment, making you laugh.

Even though the joke wasn't about Aemond, but Luke knew exactly what he was doing as he smirked at his uncle...taunting him.

"Final tribute, to the health of my nephews, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, each of them handsome, wise...and Strong"

Before Jace and Luke could even think about getting angry, you raise a glass with a huge smile on your face.

"Indeed, Uncle, we are strong afterall, my brothers and I descend from the two purest Valyrian houses, Targaryen and Velaryon, my mother is also the heir to the seven kingdoms"

Your grandfather Tywin taught you how to act wisely in such situations.

Aemond wished to speak more, but one look from Daemon was enough to let him know that you are a red line.

However, Aemond only gave you one last stare, as if to make a promise.

A promise where he will have you as a wife.

Part 4>>>