#Petyr Baelish smut

[fandom-puff]

Ooo! Game of Thrones smut promt #10 "think I like you better on your knees" for Petyr Baelish. Please and thank you!

Thank you for this req! I haven’t written Baelish in a while, so I hope you enjoy :))

Virtue

Pairing: Petyr Baelish x fem!reader

Warnings: marital argument, reference to locker-room type banter, a spank, degradation, reference to prostitution, brief fingering

Gif creds to owner

You glared across the room at the Master of Coin, your body thrumming with absolute fury.

“Call me a whore again, Baelish, and you and Varys will have something in common,” you hissed.

But Baelish only continued to smirk, your threat of castration flying over his head. “My Lady,” he said smoothly, walking around to your side of the bed, his arms opening as though he expected you to swoon and fall into them. Many moons ago, you would have, and gladly. You would have simpered about how clever he was, how glad you were to call yourself Lady Baelish. But for now, your eyes flashed with rage and you stood stock still, stubbornly refusing to go to him. “It was a joke, nothing more,” he said gently.

You scoffed. “A joke?” You said sharply, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes. You had overheard Baelish making bawdy remarks about your intimate life with Tyrion Lannister and Varys. “Dishonouring one’s wife, Baelish, is not a joke,”

At this, Baelish laughed at you. You huffed and rolled your eyes. “It is dishonouring to praise my lady wife?” He questioned, stepping closer, his smirk growing when you did not move to step away from him and his smooth talking.

“I-it… it calls into question my virtue,” you stammered, practically melting under his gaze as he stared you down. “Especially when I am compared to the… women you employ,”

Petyr cupped your cheek, his thumb swiping over your cheekbone. “Oh, sweetling,” he cooed, before his hand wound around your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he yanked you close. He leant down, murmuring in your ear. “Even before I sullied your maidenhead, you were better than any of the whores in my employ,”

As his breath skittered over the shell of your ear you whimpered, your hands planting against his chest.

“There,” he said, whisper quiet. “Much better, wife,” his teeth grazed against your pulse point as he began to tug at your skirts, reaching between your thighs to your sopping heat. “As you should be… pliant and ready for your husband’s cock, eager to be his whore,” you groaned as he withdrew his hand and pulled away from you. “Look at you,” he said, an edge of condescension prickling his voice. “Panting and wet, just begging to be fucked, virtue be damned,” his tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Undress and get on the bed, sweetling, I so love to see you spread out for me,”

He admired your figure as you stripped, unable to resist a sharp smack to your arse that had you gasping. “Although I must admit,” he mused aloud, undressing torturously slowly in comparison to your quick stripping. “I much prefer the sight of you on your knees…”

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[tinfairies]

im not sure if this is consensual because of the s/o being in the state of intoxication,, but how would sandor, cersei, petyr, oberyn react to having an innocent s/o that is an insanely horny drunk??

Sandor tries to hold back his laughter as his beloved tries to climb him. They requested a kiss, getting up onto their tippy toes and nearly fell in doing so. "I think you need to lay down." he tells them, gripping their shoulders to steady them. They giggled and pressed their body against his, heir hand immediately groping his crotch. "Hmm only if you come with me." they look up at him through their lashes. Damn they knew exactly how to wrap him around their fingers.

Sandor sighs, and picks his lover up. They cry with laughter and wrap their arms around his neck, burying their face into his neck and leaving kisses in their stead. He was going to have fun trying to wrangle them.

Cersei certainly finds it entertaining when her lover is drunk and thinks they're being smooth with their flirting. She'll roll her eyes and brush them off, but truth is she loves the attention. She'll capture her beloved's chin between her finger and her thumb and make them look at her. Of course they try to lean in and kiss her, she dodges them and they fall forward onto her lap.

"I say it's time you switched to water." she'll say raising a brow. Her lover just buries their face into her thigh, their hands running up her legs. Cersei smirks, she knows what they want. She could certainly give into them, but what's the fun in that. She wants them to beg.

Petyr would definitely take advantage of this opportunity. His beloved is hanging all over him, and it's truly amusing to him. He asks them questions, silly little ones at first, then he starts asking more serious ones. He has to make sure they truly love him and want to be with him of course.

"My love, I can't bed you while you're in this state." Petyr lies, he just wants to hear them beg, and they do. His lover pouts and keeps pulling at his shirt, saying they need him. It's certainly a stroke to his ego to hear that his beloved is not only devoted to him, but is willing to beg for his cock.

Oberyn is quite amused. His beloved is very shy when sober but after half a glass of wine and they're trying to undress him in public. He calms them down, holding their hands and kissing their lips.

"We have plenty of time later to wrap ourselves around eachother. For now let's finish our party." he smiles softly as they pout. Oberyn loves their wandering hands and flirty eyes. He can't wait for an opportunity to drag them off, why must politics rely on his presence. He wants to just ravage his lover already.

[wrenwrongs]

Songbird

Petyr Baelish/Reader

Summary: Someone annoys Petyr who takes it out on the reader.

Word Count: 881

cw: smut, afab reader, praise, degradation, age gap, spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, spitting in mouth, allusion to blowjobs, I am very new to writing smut

Petyr was aware the bundle of Myrish lace shoved into your mouth would do little to muffle any noise. It was good then that you had long since learned to keep quiet. Uncontained, however, was the sound of flesh on flesh as his hand swung down on your arse. You knew exactly what was to come when the servant informed you that your betrothed requested your presence in his office. In the moments before he grabbed your arms and kissed you roughly, you had wondered who had incensed him so. It was rare that he could not wait until the evening to sneak you into his quarters and release his frustration there.

It was still a moon until the wedding, and as such you could not fully sate your desire for each other. Petyr was more than happy to teach you other forms of pleasure. Your favorite lessons so far involved his long, slender fingers and silver tongue; his own had you bent over his lap, much like you were now, skirts pulled up around your waist and small clothes down around your knees. Any concerns you had about marrying a brothel owner where erased when you discovered why said brothels where considered the best in all of Westeros.

On occasion, if you had intentionally done something to vex him, he would make you count the strikes. This time he simply spanked you. His other implements were hidden away in his chambers, so he made do with his flat palm; the cool metal of his rings adding to the sting.

Finally, he paused to rub your rosy bottom, “Such a good little songbird.” You mewled at his praise. Keening as his hand traveled lower and his fingers brushed against your exposed pussy. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he trailed his finger up your slit. “Does this excite you, pet?” he pulled his hand away. Marveling at the string of fluids that connected them. You could only nod as he placed his fingers onto his tongue and tasted you. Savoring you.

Without warning, his hand came down again, right on your swollen cunt, ripping a squeal from your throat. Tears gathered in your eyes as you bit down harder on the gag. “I cannot wait until I can claim you as mine.” Another.

“Fill you with my seed and let everyone know who you belong to.” Three. Four. Five.

“I want the men standing outside the door during the bedding ceremony to hear just how well I treat you,” He stopped to brush his thumb against your swollen clit, "How you sing for me." his fingers dragged along your puffy folds before he inserted two fingers. The wet noises competed with your own squeals to be the most wanton noise in the room.

“Anyone could walk through that door and see how you’re dripping like a whore just from being spanked,” His fingers curled inside of you. It never took him long to find that spot that made your vision turn white, and when he did he made sure to abuse it.

He pulled the lace from your mouth, “Beg.”

“Please, My Lord. I want it, I want everyone to know what you do to me. I would let you take me for all the realm to see. Please!" you cried. His free hand brushed the tears from your cheeks. He loved to see how long he could keep you on the edge of ecstasy. It was unfortunate that he had another meeting that day. “Lord Baelish, please. I— Ah!”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing quick circles. A moan, loud enough to be heard from the halls, escaped you. He relishes in the feeling of your walls fluttering around his fingers., imagining what it would be like on his cock. As your high receded, he sat you up straight and readjusted your skirts before pulling you to sit in his lap. A soft sigh left your lips as he brushed your hair from your face.

You knew he was smirking. He always took the most pleasure in your submission. How it came so easily for him, and only him.

You remembered the first time you met, his sycophantic smile made your skin crawl. He, like most men vying for your hand, had his eyes set firmly on the handsome dowry your father would provide. Yet Baelish offered something different, an agreement. Once it became apparent that you were not fooled by his wheedling, he made an offer: his land for your dowry and his heir for your freedom. Should you provide him with an heir and the wealth he lacked, you would live at Baelish Keep while he remained in Kings Landing. Forsaking the fantasy of the Tyrell's offering a marriage to Willas, a better opportunity would not present itself.

Neither of you had expected the fondness that crept in.

His firm hand tilted your head back. He brushed his thumb along your lips before parting them and spitting in your mouth. You whimpered at the display, ears still ringing. It was the strongest orgasm he had given you so far. It was a promise of what was to come.

‘The moon can not turn fast enough.’ you thought as you sunk to your knees before him.

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/746318772779073536/his-arryn-girl-calls-her-is-girl-all-the-time?source=share

May I please request for this au. Maybe before and after he knew who she is and even when he reveals the truth to her after they get married.

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

“Do you remember our first nights together?” Petyr whispered into her ear as the loud storm began to surround them. Their soft, bare bodies were entangled with each other as the silk sheets wrapped around them. He gracefully moved to rest on his side; staring down at his wife with the softest glance. Oh, how he had gotten so lucky; it was as if the Gods were smiling down on him. His amusement only grew at the sight of her blushing. “Yes…I remember.” Her reply was breathless as her soft, sweet body arched into his with ease.

His fingers brushed down her cheek; thumb moving over her pink, pouting bottom lip before she began to suck. Her tongue moved over as she drooled. Petyr used his free hand to slowly move down her bare arm. A sharp gasp escaped her whilst he only darkly chuckled; his hand brushed past her sweet, perky breast. Goosebumps easily flooded her soft skin as his thumb began to brush over her pretty, pebbled nipple. “You took me so well.” Petyr purred in her ear; his mouth hotly moving down her neck as he marked her as his. “Please…” The soft whimper escaped her as Petyr only smirked; her soft legs spreading eagerly whilst lying on her side still. He grabbed at his weeping cock; hardening even more at the mere sight of her. Still, he desired to make her beg deliciously. Her sweet doe eyes widened with her lips parting at the feel of his fat, mushroom head pressing against her clit. The act caused shivers to run down her spine as she arched towards him. “Hmm, what is it, sweet girl?” Petyr leaned in and passionately captured her lips; muting her reply for a moment.

No words could escape her as the tingling sensation of pleasure moved up and down her spine, which had her arching into his touch. “We fit together so perfectly - as if we were made for one another.” Petyr whispered down as their bodies manoeuvred. “Well, you are made from me.” His smirk tugged on his lips as the words fell from him. A flash of confusion came over her sweet face as he pushed in; the pain and pleasure rushing through her body. “I…what do you mean?” “It means, your mother was not lying about who your father was.” Petyr softly rocked his hips as the information he gave her began to slowly sink in. Just as he pushed his cock deeper. “That—that cannot be.” He only raises an eyebrow; his smirk widening as she prettily shakes beneath him. “What cannot be?” Petyr teased her as he forced her to say the words as his movements quickened. His hand not so gently took her face as she fought to hide in the silk pillows around them. “Tell me..” Petyr began to rock his hips, taking her breath away as she began to stutter. “You – you made me..my mother.”

It was all he could listen to before his desires took over. His mouth soon passionately captured her soft lips as she whined. 

Flashback ; their wedding night

“There you go - such a good girl..” Petyr’s larger arms wrapped around his new wife’s slender, soft body. Her hiccups of pleasure echoed in his ear whilst she shook against him. Gods, he had to control himself, he thought as her warmth engulfed him. “Oh–ah, Petyr..” The sound of his name falling from her sweet, pouty lips had his fat cock twitching. Oh, she was a vision and all his. “Shh, you were doing so well.” The whispers of praises had a pink flush moving over her bare body with ease. The sound of their bodies slapping against each other had his pretty wife whining.

Still, she bounced on his lap; hands settled on his shoulders as the pleasure took control. “More..please..” She hardly knew what she was begging for as the obscene wet sounds of her creamy pussy joined the noises of pleasure. “Such a greedy girl I have.” Petyr taunted her; hand coming down her bouncing arse as she gasped out his name repeatedly. The sweet noises she made only pushed Petyr to harshly palm at her pretty, perky breasts. He could not wait to fill her; his fantasies getting the best of him now as he rocked his hips. “Fuck, that’s it - so tight.” The words fell from his lips with ease as his head fell back. Gods, he had been blessed, Petyr thought to himself as his head rested on the pillows; eyes fluttering with pleasure. Her soft, delicate hands rested on his bare chest as her body bounced. Grunts of pleasure escaped him as those dark eyes of his caught sight of her pretty, creamy pussy spreading and taking his fat cock so well. A ring of cream already formed around his length as her wetness began to leak. His stomach became soaked as her orgasm ripped through her.

It seemed his pretty wife was far too gone to realise her climax as she only bounced harder. Petyr tightened his hold on her hips as he guided her movements. His greed for her shining through as he roughly palmed at her arse. His own climax was close to the edge now as his fat cock twitched. She gasped so prettyily as her soft, spongy spot was teased without mercy. Those doe eyes of hers rolled as Petyr fucked into her. His free hand moved towards her thick locks and he tugged them, causing her head to fall back. The thought of filling her up was too much for him to bear as his own climax rushed over him. His pretty wife collapsed onto his chest with soft whines and whimpers in his ear. The soft rocking of her hips milked his cock with ease as she shook. A soft gasp escaped them both as his softening cock fell from her; his cum leaking with ease as a shiver ran down her spine. “Hmm, we cannot have that, can we?” Petyr purred, taunting her as he pressed two of his thick, cum covered fingers into her, plugging her completely until his stamina returned.

Her hand softly came to his cheek as he turned to stare into those lovely eyes he had fallen for. “I love you..” She whispered; noses brushing together before she lent closer. Their lips so sweetly met as his tongue brushed over her plump,bottom lip; nearly begging for entrance that she lovingly gave him. The kiss soon turned messy as passion returned to them both with Petyr curling his fingers with expertise.

[minasvalentine]

slay petyr!!👅

[aidansplaguewind]

Riding Out the Storm

So, I previously posted this on AO3 but I went through it and fixed it up quite a bit. Made it more descriptive and what not. Trust me when I say I improved it BIG TIME. I haven't updated it on AO3 yet though. Figured I'd post it in case anyone wanted to check it out. (Sansa is 18 in this one in case anyone has an underage issue.)

I dunno man, I think I made it pretty hot and I usually don't feel that way about my own smut. You tell me.

RATED - E (as in Explicit, not for Everyone)

WORD COUNT - 6385

Sansa has gone to stay with her Aunt Lysa and Uncle Petyr over summer vacation at their beach house. But, instead of fun in the sun, a hurricane hits. Lysa decided to ride out the storm by popping pills and sleeping through it, leaving Petyr and Sansa alone to ride it out their own way. (I literally wrote this during a hurricane.)

"This is so boring, I can't stand it. I’m literally about to lose my mind.”

Petyr looked at his eighteen-year-old niece over the top of his book. She was sitting in the arm chair across from his, squirming in her seat, and checking her phone every five minutes. “If you keep using that phone without charging it you’re gonna get a hell of a lot more bored once the power goes out. Read a book, I have plenty.”

“Who reads anymore?”

“Beg my pardon, you're right, I imagine your generation wouldn't bother to even learn to read if not for texting.” She snarled her nose at him but he didn't mind. Didn't care at all if he offended her delicate sensibilities. “I don't care what you do, just stop complaining.”

Outside the wind was picking up, the rain coming down harder, and they could see it all through the clear plastic shutters that were covering all of the windows. There was a pretty massive hurricane sitting in the Atlantic, on the way straight toward them, the current conditions being brought in from the outer bands. Petyr imagined his wife's niece, Sansa, had never dreamed coming to stay with her aunt for a few weeks would result in their current situation. No, she likely had fantasies of fun in the sun, beach days, and relaxing in the hammock. Her boyfriend had even planned to come visit her for a few days but that wasn't going to happen, at least not until after the storm had passed. All flights in and out had been canceled.

He said nothing as she got up and plugged her phone into the charger, his eyes following her across the room. She was wearing white cotton shorts that barely covered her bottom and a blue spaghetti strap top and he wondered why she wore clothing like that in front of him if she didn't want him looking. And she didn't want him looking, or at least that's what she had told him. What was it that she had said? Pervert. Yeah, that's what she had called him when she noticed him glance at her ass. He hadn't meant for his eyes to linger but her skirt had been so short and she had bent over right in front of him, her ass almost in full view. He was only a man, how could he not look?

“When are Robin and Lysa getting up?” she asked, plopping back down onto the chair.

“No time soon, I imagine. She wants to sleep through it and I don't intend to stop her.” Lysa had taken enough Xanax to sleep through their house blowing away, and Robin, the spoiled mommy’s boy that he was, would stay in bed with her.

“What do you wanna do?”

“I want to keep reading my book.”

“Ugh...come on. Amuse me.”

What a little cunt. As if it were his responsibility to keep her occupied. “What would you have me do, Miss Stark?”

She shrugged, tucking a stray strand of perfect, red hair behind her ear. “I dunno. You wanna play a game or something?”

Petyr sighed, closed his book and placed it on the coffee table in front of them, resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be getting any reading done if Sansa Stark had anything to say about it. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Fine. What sort of game did you have in mind?”

“Um...naked twister?” she laughed, obviously finding herself hilarious. She'd caught him looking at her ass once and now she figured he wanted her and meant to taunt him for it.

It was true, he did want her, but he would not be bested by an eighteen-year-old girl. “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't have the game,” he answered, unfazed.

She shook her head, a sardonic smile on her lips. “I was kidding.”

“I'm well aware.”

“Ooook." Her eyes widened as though he were being ridiculous. "So what do you wanna play?”

“You tell me, it was your idea, Sweetling.”

“How about Truth or Dare?”

Truth or Dare. There was a game he hadn't played in years. In truth the only games he played any more were those of the mind. Fuck it. Why not? What could she possibly ask him that would be too revealing? Even so, he was a very good liar. “Fine.”

“Okay.” She got up from the chair and moved to sit on the sofa. “Come sit by me.”

He looked at her, eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I wanna be able to see your eyes, so I can tell if you're lying or not.”

Petyr fought against laughter that threatened to erupt. Little fool, I'm a master fucking manipulator. But she didn't need to know that, so he moved from his own chair and sat down beside her on the sofa. She pulled her legs up so that her knees were bent and she was facing him. “Is that better?” he asked.

“Sure. Now who should go first?”

He gave a small shrug. “I'll be the guinea pig I suppose, why not?”

“Okay, Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Wimp.”

“Why?”

“Truth is the safe way to go.”

“Is it?” He stared into her blue eyes, challenging her to disagree. For he knew that truths could be incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands.

She looked away quickly. “Fine...lemme think.” She fiddled with her necklace for a moment, running the little golden heart back and forth across the chain, before an idea dawned on her and her attention snapped back to his face. “I heard you got into a bad fight with my uncle over my mother when you guys were around my age and he totally kicked your ass. Is it true?”

“It's true,” Petyr admitted but ‘kicked his ass’ wasn't the phrase he'd use to describe it. “He nearly killed me.” She hadn't asked that but he offered the knowledge anyway. Let her hear how brutal her own family can be, let her empathize with me. Whatever it took to get her where he wanted her.

“Yeah...I heard you have a huge scar across your chest. Is that true?”

Petyr grinned and shook his head. “It's your turn now, not mine. Truth or Dare?”

"You suck," she pouted and Petyr couldn't stop his gaze from traveling from her eyes down to her luscious bottom lip. Reflexively he ran his tongue across his own bottom lip and then bit down on it. He was well aware that women found him adorable when he bit his bottom lip. When his eyes returned to hers they were wide and a rosy pink had colored her cheeks and he flashed her a devilish grin. He would use everything in his arsenal, every trick in the book.

She swallowed and looked down at her hands. “Um...truth, I guess.”

“Is it true that you're only dating Joffrey Baratheon because his family is famous and he's the most desired boy in the world?” Petyr asked.

Her chin dropped and her mouth hung open in feigned shock. “No. No, never. Joffrey’s... he's…”

“He's what?” Everyone knew the kid was a prick and he watched her stumble to find something nice to say about him. She couldn't. Sansa was the girl who wanted to date the cutest and most popular boy in school, even if that boy was an asshole. She would imagine he'd fall hopelessly in love with her and change his ways just for her. She was young, naive, and selfish. Unrealistically idealistic. He knew exactly who she was because he had once been the same person, mistaking infatuation for love. “You're a bad liar, Sansa.”

She was about to object when all of the lights went out and they were left in complete darkness. They had been so busy with their little game that neither of them had noticed that the winds outside were howling, the rain beating against the windows. If Petyr had bothered to keep a television on he would have known where the storm was but had decided early on that he wasn't going to get wrapped up into the hysteria. It was coming and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Do you think the lights will come back on?” Sansa asked. As if in answer to her question, a gust of wind slammed against the front door and the pressure of it could be felt physically.

“I don't think so. Stay here, I'll go get some candles.”

Petyr left her alone on the sofa, using the light from his cellphone to guide him to the kitchen. He grabbed a few candles from the cabinet above the stove, a flashlight, and a bottle of wine. Fuck it. There was nothing else to do. He found the corkscrew in a drawer and returned to the living room to sit the candles on the coffee table. In this case it was a lucky thing he smoked because it meant he always had a lighter in his pocket. Once they were lit a soft glow enveloped him and Sansa, and he noticed an uneasiness in her eyes as he sat back down beside her.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yeah. The wind...it's so loud. The whistling is kinda creepy.”

How cute, she was frightened of the storm. “I don't mind it but I grew up in a rainy, windy area. I actually find it rather comforting.”

“Really?”

“Mmm.” He popped the cork on the bottle of wine and drank straight from the bottle, passing it to Sansa after.

She reached for it but hesitated. “But...I’m not old enough.”

“Close enough. Don't pretend you’ve never drank before, I'm not stupid and I may look old but I used to be a teenager too. Besides, it might help you relax.” She smiled, a sweet, innocent smile and Petyr felt the corner of his mouth twitch to match. Her fingers brushed his as she took the bottle and that small touch made his skin tingle and burn.

“So...do you wanna finish playing the game?” she asked after a hearty swig.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, it was your turn. Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.” He was suddenly feeling a bit adventurous. What could she possibly dare him to do in their current circumstances anyway?

“I dare you to take off your shirt...and undershirt! If you're wearing one.”

Petyr wasn't sure what to say for a moment. It definitely wasn't the dare he saw coming. “Why?”

“Does it matter why? I dared you to.”

He grabbed the wine bottle from her and took a long draught before sitting it on the table. He wasn't particularly shy, no it wasn't that, he just didn't really want to show her the long scar that ran the length of his torso, from his collar bone to his navel, and he was almost certain that's why she wanted him bare.

“Just remember,” he said as he began to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt. “Paybacks are a bitch.” She raised her eyebrows at him challengingly. Little girl, don't get in over your head. Surely she didn't understand the dangers and implications of undressing a fully grown man. If she did she may have rethought her dare. Too late now, little one. He finished with the buttons of his shirt and shrugged it off, then pulled the white t-shirt he wore under it over his head and watched as her eyes widened in shock.

“Oh my God...I had- I didn't know-”

“It's fine!" He cut her off. Her words sounded a lot like pity and he hadn't the stomach for pity. "It's been healed for many, many years.”

She reached towards him and instinctively he grabbed her wrist before her fingers made contact with the raised pink flesh, causing her to flinch. He hadn't meant to grab her too roughly or hurt her, it was just a reflex. Nevertheless, he held onto her. In truth he very much liked the idea of her tiny fingers roaming his bare chest. “I believe it's your turn.”

Her blue eyes locked onto his in surprise. Has she already forgotten we were playing a game?

“Um...yeah. I pick truth.”

Petyr released his grip on her wrist and she pulled her arm back against her chest. For a moment he just looked at her, noting that all her usual cockiness had seemed to fade after realizing that he could hurt her if he wished to. Sansa was a tall girl, exactly the same height as Petyr, and she sauntered around in front him as though she was untouchable and unattainable, but now she surely realized that though he was not a big man in stature, he was still a man, and he was lean and strong and he could pin her down if he so desired. But Petyr wasn't interested in taking her by force for it would be much more satisfying to make her desire him. To want him. Before the night was over, she would be begging for his cock.

What truth could he ask her to break her down? To put her in her place? A sinful grin spread across his face. Sex. She clearly loved the attention her beautiful, young body got her but if he knew anything about teenagers, it was that they hated being reminded of their sexual inexperience and inferiority. They had the bodies of adults but were still children and tended to get quite defensive when one reminded them of that. “Alright, I have a question for you. Are you still a virgin?”

In the dim light of the candles he could just barely make out the blush spreading across her cheeks. “No! No way, I have a boyfriend.”

Petyr couldn't contain a soft chuckle. “You're lying.”

“No. I'm not. I've done it tons of times.”

“Oh? What's your favorite position?”

She shook her head. “It's not my turn anymore.”

“I wasn't asking a Truth, I was just asking. Do you like it rough or soft and slow?"

Her cheeks flushed crimson, matching her hair. “It's your turn,” she insisted, still avoiding the question.

It didn't matter. He could always tell when people were lying, he had learned to note the signs. Or tells. Lack of eye contact, fidgeting, a twitch of their lips. She was exhibiting all of these. “Fine. Truth.”

Sansa took a deep breath and bit her bottom lip. “Do you...did you...um…”

“Come on, out with it.”

“Do you like looking at me?” she asked, avoiding his gaze. “I've seen you look at me.”

And just like that, a jolt of arousal burned through his stomach and down through his groin. “I recall. And you called me a pervert.”

“I didn't mean it,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Not really. It's just what everyone else says when an old- I mean...older guy looks at a teenage girl.”

“You meant old.”

“No! I didn't... I mean that's what other people say but I don't think you're old.” This was certainly a turn of events. For once, not at all what he was expecting. “If I told my friends they would think it was creepy and gross because you're so much older and you're my uncle but...I kind of like it when you look at me.”

Another jolt of arousal, this time shooting straight to his cock. Such a sweet, delicious little confession. “I'm not your uncle through blood,” he quickly reminded her. She finally looked into his eyes and hers looked so innocent and vulnerable that he physically ached.

“So...you still haven't answered. Do you like to? Ya know...look at me?”

If he said no he would be lying and he couldn't bring himself to lie to her, not about this, not with the fear of rejection written all over her face. Not when the truth could possibly allow him a taste of her supple, young fruit. He softened his tone and spoke barely above a whisper, “Yes, sweetheart, I do. Very much.”

A sweet smile played on her lips, followed by another blush. “It's my turn now.” She was embarrassed and trying to move away from the topic now but Petyr's curiosity was piqued and he was getting her exactly where he wanted her. If she liked him looking at her, what else might she like?

“Truth or Dare?” he asked, his heart racing in anticipation.

“Truth.”

“Do you ever look at me?”

“I'm looking at you right now.”

“You know what I mean, Sweetling.” He was taking a gamble, he knew, just because she enjoyed the attention of him lusting after her did not mean the feeling was mutual but there was only one way to find out. “Do you find me attractive, Sansa?” He was a good looking man, he knew, slender and lean with dark hair greying at his temples, but teenagers were usually attracted to other teenagers.

“Yeah...I guess I do," she admitted, her eyes cast downward, no doubt afraid to look into his.

Her confession sent another jolt through Petyr and his cock was beginning to throb. Every sane part of him screamed to end their little game immediately before he completely sexually frustrated himself but the part of him that didn't care said keep going. “Truth,” he answered before she even had time to ask the question.

She lifted her head, finding the courage to make eye contact. “Have you ever thought about...like...doing things to me?”

Was he imagining it or had she scooted closer to him? There was hardly room to breathe between them, with her knees still bent, her shins just barely grazed his thigh. “Yes.”

“What kinds of things?”

His heart was hammering against his ribs now, his every nerve tingling in anticipation. He wanted to jump on her like a fucking wild animal in heat and just take her but that wouldn't do. He had to tread carefully. Slowly he inhaled a breadth of air, calming himself, and slowly exhaled. “Things you’re too young to hear about.”

“I'm not too young. I think about things too.”

“Oh?" So much for calm. "What kinds of things?” Had she too imagined her legs over his shoulders as he pumped into her? Had she slid her digits through her silken, wet slit and imagined it was his tongue instead?

“You were supposed to answer first, it's your turn.”

Petyr turned his body more, to face hers, and whilst doing so took the opportunity to place his hand on her bare leg. She wiggled a bit but didn't shake him off. Her skin was so very soft and supple and he couldn't stop himself from gently rubbing his fingers over her. “Do you want to know if I've thought about kissing you?” he asked.

Her eyes had snapped to where his hand now rested on her bare skin, fixated. It looked as though she struggled to lift them to meet his own. “Yes... and anything else.”

“You wanna know if I've imagined fucking you?” She nodded, biting that kissable bottom lip of hers. “Yes...and yes.” His hand seemed to have a mind of its own, moving around her leg and up to the inside of her thigh. Her skin was even softer there. His cock, now hard and throbbing, was straining against his pants. “What have you imagined, sweetheart?”

“I- I um…” Her face was flushed and her voice sounded strained as he continued running his fingers along the inside of her thigh.

“Don't be shy.”

“I...imagined kissing you.”

“What else?” His fingers now toyed with the edge of her shorts and he was hyper-aware of every change in her demeanor. Her breathing, while barely audible, was more shallow and quick and her perky tits were rising and falling in rapid succession. The conversation, the sound of his voice mixed with his touch, was turning her on and he was inwardly delighted at this victory.

“I've imagined you touching me.”

“Where, Sweetling?” he asked, his voice a seductive whisper.

“Um…” Her eyelids fluttered and her voice came out as a soft sigh. The evidence of her arousal made his cock ache with longing.

“Truth or Dare, Sansa?”

“Dare,” she whispered and Petyr almost burst with excitement.

“I dare you to let me kiss you.”

Her eyes met his, looking both uncertain and curious. “What about Aunt Lysa?”

“She's taken enough Xanax to knock out a bull. She's not going to wake up.”

“No, I mean...don't you love her?”

He brought his hands to her face then, gently cupping and caressing the line of her jaw. “Not the way I love you.” In truth he didn't love Lysa at all. Did he love Sansa? Perhaps, but more than anything he wanted to taste her and bury himself inside her and he would say whatever he needed to achieve that. “May I kiss you?”

She barely had time to utter consent before Petyr leaned forward and captured her mouth with his own and her immediate sigh was music to his ears. He forced himself to move slowly, even though his body was alight with need, longing to take her fast and hard. Longing for relief. Her lips moved against his innocently,  clumsy and inexperienced as they were, but he didn't care. He would teach her, he would mold her to fit him. Carefully, he ran his tongue across the seam of her lips, willing her to open for him. When her lips parted he took his chance and slipped his tongue between them, softly stroking her own.

She was all softness and warmth and tasted of the wine they had just shared. She was delicious and he couldn't contain the moan that escaped him. His fingers traced down the line of her neck and she whimpered into his mouth and her own hands found their way to his bare chest. Petyr was losing all sense of reason as he devoured her, his heart pounded wildly against his chest, and his cock had become an insistent, aching reminder of how badly he wanted her. When her thumb brushed across his nipple he hissed in a breath and broke their kiss, pulling just far away enough to search the deep blue pools of her eyes.

“Uncle Petyr…”

“Yes?”

“I dare you to touch me.”

Oh fuck. “I didn't choose dare, Sweetling.” He was teasing her, of course, he would gladly touch her.

Her hands went to his hips, urging him closer. “Uncle Petyr, please.”

Please was all it took for him to slip his hands under the hem of her shirt. He reclaimed her lips as his deft fingers found the clasp of her bra and had it loose in seconds. She moaned into his mouth when his hands cupped her breasts, a soft cry of ecstasy, and it took every ounce of Petyr's self control to go slowly. All of her little moans and sighs were going straight to his cock. When he found her nipples and began gently tweaking them between his fingers, she arched into him reflexively, her thighs spreading. He took the opportunity to get between them and push her back onto the sofa, pressing himself against her. He could feel the warmth radiating from her core, even through their layers of clothing, and was unable to stop himself from grinding his erection against her, relishing in the friction.

Sansa broke their kiss and looked at him and Petyr felt stunned, as if being awakened from a trance. Her eyes were glazed and the blue even darker than before, although behind them was a tinge of worry. “What's wrong, Sweetling?”

“I lied earlier.” Her voice was a whisper. “About having done it before. I've never….never really done anything.”

He had known. Of course he had known but a part of him was hoping she would try to maintain the lie until the very end, until he was already buried deep inside her and felt how tight she was. What sort of monster would he be now, with it out in the open, to take this little girl's virginity on the sofa as his wife slept upstairs? “I know and we don't have to do anything, we can stop right now,” but even as he said it, he rocked his hips into her and began tracing her jaw with soft kisses, down until he reached that sweet spot just below. A sharp intake of breath from her and a thrust back against him was enough to spur him on.

A monster indeed.

One of his hands left her breasts and snaked down between them where he slowly eased his fingers under the waistband of her shorts and panties. “Mmhmm,” he moaned into her neck as he found her slit already slick with need. “So wet.” When he slipped a finger through her folds she whimpered and her hands went to his chest, her fingers gripped his chest hair tightly and the pull stung but he didn't mind.

He moved his finger up and down her folds slowly, torturously, making sure to circle her little nub rhythmically. Even without direct pressure she was already moaning and wiggling beneath him, her breaths quick and shallow. Fuck, she's so wet. He wanted nothing more than to yank her bottoms off and sink into her balls deep, to take her fast and rough. But waiting was a sweet kind of torture.

“Do you want me to stop, Sansa?” He would, if she insisted, but he was going to persuade her. He was very good at persuasion.

“No. No please, don't.” Her reply was strained, he couldn't believe how responsive she was to the slightest touch from him.

“Does your boyfriend make you feel like this?” he asked, as he began to fully rub her clit, applying real pressure.

She bucked her hips against his hand as a breathy “No” escaped her lips.

He continued to play with her breasts with one hand as his other worked her below and when he finally slipped his finger into her entrance he covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her cry. She was so tight, more than one finger was going to hurt her a little but he was going to try to make it as painless as possible. Perhaps he wasn't a complete monster.

He fucked her with the one finger, making sure the bottom of his palm continuously rubbed on her nub, and she came undone beneath him. Writhing and bucking, one of her hands clawed at his bare side the other tangled in his hair. Petyr was enjoying every minute of it, even though he was sure his cock was about to burst out of his pants. He could almost cum from just watching her lose control.

“Mm...p-p..” she was trying to say something against his mouth. He eased up a bit to allow it. “Please…”

“Please, what?”

“Please...fas-faster.”

He grinned against her lips as he shifted his hand to slide another finger inside. He went slowly at first, stretching her open, getting her used to the feel of something bigger, and she winced but didn't tell him to stop. After a few moments she began moaning again, soft whimpers of pleasure, so he picked up the pace.

“Do you like that?” he whispered into her ear.

“Mmhmm.”

“Do you like the way your Uncle Petyr fucks you?” She bucked wildly against him and he felt her walls beginning to contract. She was close. “Cum for me, Sweetling. Cum for Uncle Petyr.” As if his words alone willed it, and maybe they did, she moaned loudly. Her back arched and her inner walls gripped his fingers, pulling them even deeper as she came around them. Petyr gently nipped at her neck and massaged her breasts as she peaked and then began to come down from her high, praying she wouldn't change her mind now that her initial need was sated.

He decided he wouldn't give her time to. He pushed her shirt and bra up to reveal her naked breasts, beautiful pale mounds ripe for a feast and he dipped his head, taking each nipple into his mouth in turn. Her skin tasted like heaven, sweet and musty and entirely her own; he could have stayed between them forever but he had a more pressing matter at hand. She was already responding again, soft little mews and pants that were driving him mad with lust. He pulled up from her and hooked his fingers under the waistband of her bottoms, stilling for a moment to see if she would object. She didn't. She looked up at him with those innocent blue eyes, waiting, and closed her knees to make it easier for him to get them down.

Without hesitation he pulled them down, tossing them carelessly across the room. Just as quickly he kicked off his shoes and pulled his own pants and boxers off, his cock springing forth, finally free of its constraints. He got back onto the sofa on his knees, placing a hand on each of her own and spreading them back open.

“Jesus…” Her little cunt was so perfect and glistening in the light of the candles from her juices. Just a taste. Petyr watched her face, her cheeks were burning with embarrassment and her eyes darted away from his own. Clearly no one had ever looked at her this way before but she had nothing to be ashamed of. She was perfect. He quickly dipped his head and ran his tongue up the length of her slit, resulting in a surprise gasp from her. He had never tasted anything so delicious in his life. He wanted to devour her for hours, make her exhausted with pleasure until her legs shook and she had to fight for air but he also desperately wanted to be inside her. He settled for a few laps with his tongue and a suckle at her clit before getting up and leaning over her, his cock nestling itself between her folds. Her wet heat caused him to buck against her.

“Ooh,” she whimpered.

“Are you okay?” he asked, bringing his face to her own.

She nodded. “It looks big.”

It? His cock. He hadn't even noticed her looking at it but surely she had, it was likely the only one she had ever seen in person. “Thank you for stroking my ego, Sweetling.”

“Can I...can I get a better look at it? Can I touch it?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

He lifted his body off her so she could look down between them where his member lay snug against her sex. He was rigidly hard and his head an angry red. Would she find it ugly? He watched as her tiny hand reached down and she ran her fingers along his length. “Mmm,” he moaned at the contact.

“Does it feel good?”

“You have no idea.”

“I think I might now,” she replied with a sweet smile. “It's so soft but...so hard.”

"Do you like my cock, baby?" he asked, biting that bottom lip of his again in that adorable way that he did.

She blushed an even deeper shade of crimson and smiled. "Yes."

He hummed proudly. "Hmmm, good girl." Very slowly he began rocking his hips, allowing himself to slide through her slit, and she watched with apt fascination until her head fell back and she whimpered from the friction. Petyr himself felt every nerve alighting in his body and he wasn't even inside her yet. “Are you ready?” he asked.

She could only nod, her breathing heavy and loud, lost to the sensation of his manhood stroking her most sensitive spot.

Petyr inwardly rejoiced as he pressed his chest down against hers and kissed her heartily and hungrily. She met his kiss with equal fervor as he took his cock in hand and aligned himself with her entrance. He gave a slight push and he felt her entire body tense beneath him. “Try to relax, Sweetling. It will hurt less if you do.” He truly had no desire to hurt her and didn't understand how any man could enjoy such a thing. It was far more pleasurable to give pleasure.

She nodded but as he began pushing further in, stretching her all the way out, tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes. She was so tight, her body instinctively pushed back against the foreign intrusion, and Petyr had to give a few deep, hard thrusts to fully stretch her open for him, until he was all the way inside.

His hips stilled for a moment. "Oooh, holy fuck!" He groaned at the sensation of finally being fully sheathed, his cock twitched within her and he knew if he wasn't careful he would cum far more quickly than he wanted to. Fuck she's so fucking tight, fuck! He wouldn't normally have to worry about that sort of thing but she was so fucking tight and the anticipation had been building inside him for far longer than that night.

She was shaking, crying, and he cupped her face gently kissing away the tears. “Relax, the hard part is over now.”

He captured her lips with his own as he began to slowly pull out and push back in, a gentle, rhythmic rocking of his hips. As he did so, he placed one hand on her breast and the other he placed over where their bodies joined and began working at that tender, little nub. His body wanted so much more, his breathing laboured, fighting the natural urge to start pounding into her.

“Fuck...you feel so good, sweetheart.” She whimpered at his words. “So wet...so tight around my cock.”

“Oooh.” Her cheeks were flushed with arousal, her eyes heavy. His words were fueling her desire. The sound of his voice relaxing her muscles and opening her up beneath him.

"That's it, sweetheart, open up." He could feel her walls relaxing around him as he pushed in and out of her, could feel her getting wetter as he worked her clit. “Do you like the way my cock feels, Sweetling?”

“Oh my God," she panted. So responsive to the sound of his voice. "F-fuck...yes.”

He moved his hand from her breast and used it to prop himself up, allowing a new angle, allowing him to go deeper. “Does my voice turn you on?”

“Yes...don't stop.” Her breaths were becoming quicker, her head rolled back against the arm of the sofa, her own hands replaced his and kneaded at her breasts.

Petyr began to pick up the pace with each thrust. “Does my little girl like the way I fuck her?” She grinded against him at his words. “Ooh fuck...that's it. Such a good girl.”

Sweat broke out on his brow as he pumped into her. The sounds of their joining was intoxicating, the gush of her juices every time he thrust back in, the sound of his balls slapping against her ass. He wanted to keep talking to her but he was losing it. “Mmm...fuuuuck...so good.”

Finally she said it. “Faster.”

He wasted no time, his hips responding to her demand immediately and she began bucking up into him, meeting his thrusts. He wanted her to cum again so desperately but he wasn't going to last much longer at the new frantic pace. His body collapsed on top of her and he hooked his arms underneath hers as he continuously moved his hips, deep and hard. “Your pussy feels so good,” he purred, his lips now at her ear. “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

“Oh...oooh, Petyr don't stop.” Her hands went to his head, pulling and yanking his hair but he didn't mind.

“Mmm...oh fuuuck baby I’m gonna cum.”

And he did, he couldn't stop it. Every nerve in his body lit up, his veins sung with pleasure, as he went over the edge, lighting up every limb down to his toes. His vision went white. He tried to pull out, he really did, but as soon as he came, she came too, and her walls gripped him, pulling him back in and milking him for every drop.

“Oooh...oh fuuuuck,” he cried as his cock twitched and jerked inside her.

For a few moments they laid there, their breaths evening out, minds clearing. When Petyr could think clearly again the dread of what had just happened ebbed its way into his mind. “Sansa...I'm so sorry,” he said, his voice muffled against her skin where his head was nestled in the crook of her neck.

“Sorry for what?”

“I meant to pull out.”

“No, Petyr...it's okay. My mom put me on the pill cuz I have really bad periods. It helps.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I promise. There's nothing to worry about.”

Relief spread through his body and he smiled into her neck. Finally he pusehd himself up to where he could look at her and she blushed from the eye contact, biting her bottom lip. “You're beautiful.”

“No I'm not.”

“Stop. You know you are.” She shook her head, looking a bit sad and Petyr was taken aback. For someone who always acted so confident she surely didn't seem so now. “By the time I'm done with you you're going to believe me.”

“You're not done with me?”

“Only if you want me to be.” She smiled and shook her head again, all innocence and vulnerability.

“Well,” he said, moving a strand of hair away from her face and tucking it gingerly behind her ear. “This isn't at all how I expected this evening to go.”

“Me neither.”

For the first time in a while Petyr noticed the wind howling outside. “I completely forgot there was a hurricane going on outside.”

“What hurricane?”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her lips. Neither of them had moved yet and she didn't seem to mind.

“I think this is definitely the way to ride out a storm,” she giggled against his lips.

“Ride? I can show you how to ride out the storm.”

She laughed and ruffled his hair with her fingers and he was lost.

[anaskinned]

Petyr Baelish X Reader

Professor Baelish Au

TW: Smut, degradation, age gap, fingering, teacher x student, bullying, stalking, slapping, spanking, choking.

This is my first smut! Get cozy :)

——————-——————————————————

Y/N has been avoiding going to class for a week straight now.

Professor Baelish never used to take attendance, but the girl who always sat in the front, the girl whose eyes followed him like a shadow, had not been showing up to class. He had grown strangely amused by her eager nature. She was undeniably stunning, possessing a truly gorgeous physique. She diligently took notes without pause, arrived a steadfast ten minutes early for every class, and consistently scored above average on every test. His curiosity only grew with each day she didn’t show.

The first day he noticed almost immediately. He glanced at his watch as her usual arrival time passed, his gaze flicking back to the classroom door expectantly. Five minutes later, a sense of unease crept in, prompting him to reach for his laptop bag placed neatly beside the desk. He unzipped the bag and withdrew his sleek laptop, his fingers tapping the power button to awaken the screen. The soft hum of the device filled the quiet classroom as he waited for it to boot up. His eyes scanned the inbox, but there were no new emails to distract him from the growing mystery of her absence. She never arrived so he let it go. A one off.

The next day, he arrived early, positioning himself in the hallway a full fifteen minutes before the lecture was scheduled to begin. Leaning against the corridor wall with an almost obsessive determination, he crossed his arms tightly, his posture rigid yet filled with an undeniable intensity. Every passing student received a nod from him, but his gaze remained fixed on the door through which she should have walked. The minutes stretched on, and despite his early vigilance and the magnetic pull of his expectation, she never appeared. His curiosity now tinged with a hint of obsession as he couldn't shake the thought of her absence. The third day, consumed by an escalating obsession, he delved into the school's database, meticulously searching for her schedule.

On the fourth day, his patience with her reached an all new low. Anticipation coiled tightly within him as he positioned himself discreetly outside her class before his own. He watched intently as she emerged hurriedly from the classroom, her steps quickened by some unseen urgency. With a swift and calculated move, he intercepted her path, his hands reaching out to grasp her wrist firmly but gently, halting her in her tracks. Her surprise was palpable, mirrored by the intensity in his eyes as he faced her.

“Y/N.” He grabbed her wrist firmly, stopping her in her tracks.

She stood frozen, her mouth gaping.

“Professor Baelish.”

“Why are you avoiding my class?”

“I’m not - I wasn’t.” She stammered.

He studied her face intently, scanning for any hint of deception or evasion. "Pretty girls shouldn't lie. Explain to me how you've managed to attend every class for the last four days and yet remain conspicuously absent from mine." His tone was measured, yet beneath it simmered a blend of curiosity and a hint of something more personal.

“Professor.” She squeaked, gesturing her eyes to the crowd forming around the two in the hallway.

Baelish sighed, releasing his grip on Y/N’s wrist.

“You, my dear, are coming to my office. Go.” He hissed in her ear and held her gaze. His piercing blue eyes bore into hers with a mix of scrutiny and calculation before he turned abruptly, striding away in the opposite direction.

She hurried to his office, her heart racing with each door she passed along the way. As she approached his department door, she stole a cautious glance through the glass pane, only to find his office empty and devoid of any sign of him. Pausing uncertainly for a moment, she wrestled with indecision before abruptly turning on her heel and retreating in the opposite direction.

Thump

Professor Baelish stood silently behind her. He observed her every move with a penetrating gaze, his expression unreadable yet filled with an unsettling intensity.

“Wrong way.” He huffed impatiently.

He held his arm out, and with his other, he opened and waited for her to enter the office.

She pushed passed him and sat in the chair opposite to the desk.

He took his place across from her, effortlessly shedding his suit jacket to reveal a physique that bespoke strength and refinement. With a graceful movement, he crossed one leg over the other, his demeanor exuding a captivating blend of confidence and intrigue.

“You know why I have brought you here. Now tell me the truth.”

"I was sick," she stammered, her voice wavering slightly as she met his unwavering gaze.

"Darling, we all lie. You happen to be the worst one I've ever encountered," he remarked coolly, his words carrying a mix of admonishment and fascination.

“Sir, I really can't do this.”

“Such proper obedience for a disobedient girl.” He sucked his teeth while watching her thoughtfully. “Why do you sit in the front for my lectures but sit in the back for every one of your other classes?” he inquired, his tone a blend of curiosity and a hint of playful challenge.

“Sir - I”

“I watched you cry after checking your phone multiple times.”

Her face bursted into an embarrassed flush.

"I want to know who has you so captivated," he pressed, his voice carrying a mix of intrigue and a subtle edge of possessiveness.

"I… I love your class, and I find you so… charming," she confessed softly, her words hesitant yet tinged with genuine admiration.

“Go on.”

“And some people have been starting rumours about me.”

“Saying?”

“That I - I fuck you… to get good grades.” Her voice trailed off and her eyes faltered to the floor.

"What a story that would be," he mused absent-mindedly. "No kidding," she replied, a hint of nervousness in her voice. The pair made heated eye contact and when neither of them laughed, they settled into an uncomfortable silence.

“Give me names.”

“Seriously Professor, I don't want to make myself a bigger target. Can we just drop this?”

“Y/N, I'm not going to let them sully your academic achievements. You're too smart to be labelled a whore.” He watched her for a long moment before dropping his voice and bending over the table. “Are you a whore Y/N?”

She was embarrassed by the question because she had to stop and think. Is she a whore? No, not overtly, but she was undeniably enthralled by the man, captivated by his presence alone. Thoughts of him consumed her mind constantly, and she eagerly anticipated each class they shared. The thought of him following her all day made her thighs clench in ways that were wrong.

"Lost in thought. For such a simple question," he remarked, his eyes fixed on her with a hungry intensity. He circled the desk slowly, the sound of his tsking accompanying each deliberate step.

“Sir, please let me go.”

“Well now I'm not sure Ms. L/N.” He now stood behind her chair. “How can I condemn this behaviour when I can't place you? Either you're a good girl, or you're a whore.”

“I am not a whore!” She bit out.

“Very good girl, Y/N.”

“Sir… I - don't know what you want from me?”

"Names," he demanded, his voice tinged with anger and authority, cutting through the tense atmosphere in the room.

“I can't. I really don't mind.”

“Should I force them out of you?”

“You can't.”

He laughed callously. "Bend over the desk," he instructed, his tone firm and commanding, his demeanor unyielding.

She sat there, looking up at him in pure shock, her expression a mix of disbelief and uncertainty.

“Now. Whore.”

He allowed the fear to shake her to the core. Retrieving a large wooden ruler from behind his desk, he held it firmly, the weight of his intention palpable in the air.

“Let’s start simple, Y/N. How many students are involved in the rumour?”

She didn't speak.

He wound his arm back, striking her round ass with a hard smack.

“Fuck!” She cried out.

“Good girls wouldn't use such colourful language. Now, how many students are involved?”

“Five!” she hissed.

“Why would they start such a nasty little rumour?”

She shook her head.

Thwack!

“Ah.” She threw her head back, finally making eye contact with her superior.

“Why Y/N?”

No answer.

Thwack.

"Where there's smoke," he murmured, bending down to gently rub the sore spot on her rump, "there’s usually fire." His voice held a mixture of warning and curiosity, probing for more information beneath the surface.

Oh, there was definitely a fire; she could feel it between her legs, her back arching slightly as she leaned into his tender touch.

He let his hand fall to his side before spanking her again.

“God, I started them, Sir.”

He paused, absorbing the information slowly, his expression unreadable as he processed the revelation.

“Now why is that?”

“I left my fucking note book unattended and they read it.”

“Where is the notebook now?”

Her eyes dropped in a mix of sadness and shame. Without a word, Baelish had a sneaking suspicion that the notebook resided in her backpack. Straightening his posture, he proceeded to search through her bag until he found the notebook she carried into every class.

Y/N bowed her head, holding her bent position on the desk. She looked like she could burst into tears at any moment.

“Have a seat.” He gestured to the girls former seat.

He flipped through the pages of notes, maintaining deliberate eye contact with her before turning each page. He couldn't help but be impressed by how diligently she recorded every word he uttered in class. However, as he reached the back of the notebook, he discovered something more provocative stored there.

He looked up at Y/N, his eyebrows raising with each smut-filled page he read. Some of its topics included hair pulling, choking, fucking raw, and degradation. A smile couldn't help but cross his face, and he couldn't help but notice his pants growing tighter. These were all categories he not only enjoyed, but excelled at.

“So this is a crush?”

“Yes sir.”

“How does crushing escalate to fucking?”

“Sir I don't know.”

“I can't help but imagine the way he would stand over me and call me nasty names.” He said in a dull tone, his voice tinged with exasperation and annoyance.

“Stop!” She cried, the tears running down her face. “Just report it to the dean and let me leave with dignity.”

“And why would I do that?” He perplexed. “So the school can investigate me? So you can evade punishment?”

“You know I have way more to lose than you.” She sobbed. “I would lose my scholarship and the school would have me expelled.”

“Thats not real punishment. You know why?”

Her eyes blazed with anger now, a fiery intensity that matched her frustration.

"Why, Professor Baelish?" she bit out, her voice infused with defiance and fake curiosity.

“Because if the rumour is, that I fuck my young students?” He said, now getting in her face. “I better get to fuck said younger student. Get on your knees.” He demanded.

“Sir-”

“Now.”

She felt the fire spreading from her cunt to her head. She knew this was wrong but her body couldn't help but submit.

He reached for the book and flipped through several pages before decisively tearing out a specific page and tossing it before her eyes.

“Read it out loud.” He barked.

“Today I came into class and watched Professor Baelish-”

He towered over her, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. “You know what part.”

She cringed, absolutely tortured by the private words she had written, and took a shaky breath before continuing.

“Today I imagined him reprimanding me in front of the class, and sitting on his lap, everyone watching as he stroked me.”

“Good girl.” He cooed. “Keep going.”

“I - I would let him do anything he wanted to me to be honest.”

"That's it, finally some truthfulness," he remarked, his tone laced with a mix of satisfaction and intrigue.

He looked deeply into her eyes as he began to undo his belt buckle and pull down his pants.

Y/N watched in bewilderment as the moment she had fantasized about for half a year unfolded before her eyes.

“Keep reading, whore.”

Her eyes fluttered to and from the page, as if she didn't want to miss anything.

“I wish I could stroke his cock, licking and slipping my mouth around the head.”

“Do you now?” He said, letting his member free and bounce against his lower stomach.

Y/N’s eyes lit up like giant saucers, staring directly at his cock.

“You have my permission.”

She lurched forward eagerly, her warm breath huffed before taking in his head. She made eye contact, watching the way his mouth twitched and hissed with each slow movement of her tongue.

He became impatient with her slow pace, snatching her hair by the base of her neck and saying “open wide.”

Her eyes watered as he impaled her mouth and relentlessly fucked her mouth with need. She hummed against his member, taking another inch with each stroke. It wasn't long before she took him in completely.

“Fuck you are such a dirty fucking whore, Y/N.” He cooed, relishing the sensation.

After a couple minutes, he pulled her lips off his cock and brought her to her feet.

"Stand by the desk," he instructed firmly.

Y/N stood, but Baelish stopped her abruptly, yanking her back with a tight grip on her wrist.

“You forgot your smut.” He said impatiently.

Y/N couldn't help but feel embarrassed by the whole scenario. She reluctantly bent over to retrieve the piece of paper and reported behind his desk.

“Read.”

“I wish he would grab me by the neck and push me onto the desk.”

He fixated on her, pushing her chest onto the desk while the base of her neck was pinned to the mahogany.

“Like this?”

She didn't say anything but let out a pathetic whimper.

He tightened his grip on her neck and used his other hand to smack her tender bottom.

“Fuck - yes - like this!”

He laughed curtly, grinding his hard cock against her ass.

He used his full weight to immobilize her tiny body; letting his tongue lick the outside rim of her ear.

She moaned loudly, huffing a cloudy wet stain on the desk.

“Keep reading.”

“He would lick my pussy till I cried, while calling me horrible names and making me beg for it.” She felt so naked while being fully clothed.

He removed the weight of his torso before pulling Y/N’s jeans down, and inspecting the outline of her pussy lips through her panties.

“Your needy cunt is dripping, little whore.”

She rested her forehead against the table as she huffed, her thighs clenching in need.

He peeled her wet garment off her soaked pussy lips, pressing his digits to her sensitive clit.

She gasped, urgently bucking her hips to gain more friction.

Baelish didn't appreciate the gesture; he tsked disapprovingly and smacked her hard on the ass.

“Let me explain this to you right fucking now. Any pleasure you receive, will be because I wanted you to experience it. The same goes for pain.” He smacked her ass harder. “Apologize for being a greedy slut.”

“I’m sorry.”

Thwack.

"Apologize for being a greedy slut!" he demanded, his voice stern and uncompromising, echoing in the dimly lit room.

“I’m sorry for being a greedy slut!” She grated out.

“Good girl.” He hummed. His fingers splayed against her pussy, his middle and ring finger plunging into her cunt. His thumb rubbed in tight circles around her clit as she squirmed on the desk.

Her moans were getting louder and louder as she grew closer to her climax.

“Good girl, Y/N.” He leaned down, smashing his lips into hers.

His lips were heavenly, his tongue a lubed weapon, and his saliva was hot, like a warm shot down her throat. The kiss was pure electricity.

“I’m so close.” She wept.

“Are you?” his demeanour, sweet and inviting.

“I’m going to cum.” She wailed.

“No you're not.” and just like that, he removed his fingers, leaving her so empty and needy.

“But-but-”

“But - but..?” he mimicked her whiny voice. “Any pleasure you receive will be because I wanted you to experience it.” He smacked her bottom again, the stinging red mark branding her ass. “Greedy whore.”

Y/N huffed in frustration before Baelish thrusted his cock into her pussy.

“Fuck!” she cried.

“Fuck, that is a nice tight cunt.” He groaned, placing both hands on either side of her ass.

Y/N’s pussy swallowed his cock, the girth alone igniting a sweet pain; sweeter than she could ever imagine. He pumped in and out of her effortlessly, letting his hands roam her breasts from behind.

She turned her head to the side, watching his facial features contort in erotic ways that made her lower body flush with butterflies.

“Fuck you're so beautiful.” He drawled, savoring each syllable as though he had effortlessly plucked the words straight from her lips.

His hand reached around her neck as he yanked her hair towards his chest, asserting control and dominance. He was now in a better position to grind deeper into her wetlands.

“Is this what the little whore wanted?” He whispered in her ear, slightly out of breath.

“Yes sir.” She moaned.

"Are you going to leave your book and those lacy panties in my possession?" His voice held a strong dominant tone.

“Yes sir.” She wasn't sure what made her cunt clench. Was it the thought of him jacking off with her panties, or him delving into her every desire? Either way, she melted.

“Good fucking whore.” His thrusts were growing faster and more erratic. "You have detention with me for the rest of the semester," he murmured, his voice lowering. "I own you."

“Please sir, I promise to serve my punishment!” Y/N could barely take it anymore. Her climax was so close, but she knew he would deny her release if she dared to push too far. She clenched her teeth, desperate to hold on despite the overwhelming need pulsing through her.

"Beg me to cum," he whispered, his tone thick with lust and dominance, his eyes locked onto hers, commanding her submission.

“Fuck sir, I'm sorry I brought you shame. Please let me cum, I will obey you - please!”

His hand found her clit and began toe-curling circles on her sensitive nub.

“Please Sir!” she squealed frantically.

“Cum all over this cock little girl.” He groaned, pounding her cunt desperately.

The pair climaxed at the same time, their sweaty bodies collapsing into a hot heap on the desk. It wasn't till five minutes had passed had he shifted off of her back. He walked towards the cabinet on the wall and pulled out a fresh towel, his movements deliberate and controlled. A momentary distraction from the tension that lingered in the air between them.

He began to clean her up, wiping any fluids that didn't exist prior to this entanglement.

"I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you, but mistook it as naivety," he chuckled softly, a hollow amusement in his voice.

Y/N laid on the desk in thought, pondering why he had singled her out, questioning if it was intentional or mere coincidence.

"Why choose me?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension, as if probing into the depths of his fixation.

"You are special," he whispered softly, brushing a loving finger down the apple of her cheek. His touch was tender, his words sincere, as he gazed into her eyes with affection.

"Why?" she asked, searching for understanding in his words and touch. "I am a private man," he began, his tone firm yet tinged with a hint of regret. As he sat down on the chair, he gently pulled her down beside him. "The moment you left that book unattended was the moment you jeopardized my privacy. That is why you have been punished." His words hung in the air, conveying both his need for personal boundaries and a sense of consequence for her actions. He sighed, “If you break our agreement or miss a class again, I will show up to your dorm room and fuck you senseless. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she replied softly.

"Now, hand over your panties," he ordered, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And the book."

Without hesitation, she heeded his command and stepped away from the lace panties. They were damp to the touch, embarrassingly so, but nonetheless, she handed them over, along with the book.

"Now get to class, you have ten minutes." He spoke sternly, pushing her off his lap and pulling her jeans back up. He got up from his seat and kissed her tenderly, his lips lingering softly against hers. "See you soon, Professor Baelish." She blushed. "Goodbye, pet."

[lovedandliving]

thinking about writing some petyr baelish/littlefinger smut not enough of it in the world sadly 🌝

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6

What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, POV shifts!, forced marriage, smut (piv, emotional sex, praise kink, breeding kink), enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, toxic masculinity, typos, etc.

A/N: YAY WE ACTUALLY FINISHED A SERIES HAHHAH lol. thank you so much to everyone who read safe keeping on here <3 im so luv all of you !! i will be continuing this so HIHHH look forward to it ig 😋 [originally posted on ao3] | [continuation fic on ao3] | [continuation on tumblr]

Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @minttea07 @fluffpudel @j3nn-1 @jelsasnowflakes1 @thestrals-and-firewiskey

We are greeted by a group of men when we arrive at the Alistair dwelling.

Sandor helps me dismount my horse. I thank him, then the stable boy, who takes our rides. Sandor ushers me in and we hand our coats to the servants by the door.

My husband scrutinizes the place, a grave expression on his features as he takes in the halls that were decorated with streamers. As we get deeper into the home, I grab Sandor's arm and carefully word, "remember why we're here."

He turns to me and raises a brow, "and why are we here, darling wife?"

I cannot help the way I react to his words, his term of endearment. I know it is condescending, but my stomach tumbles at the sound of it either way. I look forward, unable to keep his gaze, "we're here to pay out respects to a man that extended generosity to us."

Sandor notices the way my face twitches. He sighs and turns away, "I will not kill the pretty boy. Do not be so upset."

"I'm not upset," I turn to him.

He scoffs under his breath, "what's with the face then?"

"What face?"

"A face fairest in the land, many would say."

Sandor and I stop in our tracks.

My brows raise and I break into a chuckle of disbelief and surprise. The man who had spoken smirks as I greet him, "Lord Baelish."

Sandor feels his blood boil when the Littlefinger bows and reaches out a hand. He tightens his grip on me.

I turn to Sandor, noticing how darkly he was eyeing Petyr, and decide to let out a laugh to ease the tension, "there be no need for such formalities, Petyr."

Petyr straightens up, lowering his hand, maintaining his smirk.

Sandor's lips twitch as he grumbles slowly himself, "Petyr."

"I am glad we're past that, my dear," Petyr says before Sandor tugs me by the arm behind him as he steps forward.

The shorter man looks up and the taller one snorts. I manage to pull my arm away, coming in between them. I nervously laugh and elbow Sandor back, not that it does anything, "if you'll excuse us, we must speak to the man on the hour."

Petyr looks back at me, unfazed and still smirking, "of course. But I do I hope, for your sake, you spare me a moment after. I have something rather important to talk to you about."

"About what?!" Sandor bark. I feel the tension of his form when he presses nearer, flush against my back, to impose upon the lord.

Lord Baelish doesn't spare the Hound a glance, "why, about the monsters plaguing your ancestral home." 

My lips part.

The blue eyed man raises a brow, "you've long wished to be safe from this peril, yes?" he bows, "I believe I have a solution for you."

Before I could even think, Petyr straightens up and smirks as he walks away.

I hear the Hound whisper behind me, "I'll fucking kill him instead."

Before I could respond, a voice calls out to me. I turn and see it is Lord Alistair, making his way over.

He jogs up to me with an excited expression and reaches out a hand. I smile back at him and take it out of instinct. When he is close enough, Cedric kisses my knuckles.

The Hound did not realize this had happened up until he tore his gaze from damned Littlefinger. When he notices Alistair, he nearly breaks his teeth from clenching his jaw so tight.

"I am happy to see you, my lady," Cedric nods with a lopsided smile.

Before the Hound can react, the pretty boy is speaking again.

"And you, my lord," he nods to Sandor.

"I don't share the sentiment," the Hound growls through a strangled breath.

Cedric laughs. He places a hand on his chest as he does, then motions, "forgive me. You must be famished from your travels," he looks to his right then back to us, "please. My servants have prepared my favorite dishes. Help yourself and make merry."

"I'll be merry if I fuc--

"THANK YOU, MY LORD!" I cut off with a massive grin. I curtsy and chuckle, mustering all the sincerity I had, praying it overshadowed my jitters, "may you always be so generous and joyous on your nameday."

Cedric chuckles and waves me off, "please. Spare me the formalities. I pray you go and eat with your husband before he kills someone."

Lord Alistair is the only one that laughs at the joke. A few delayed seconds later, I manage to laugh with him, forcing down my agitation.

Sandor doesn't budge the first time I tug on his arm. He follows after the fourth. He eyes Cedric as we walk away, but the said man is already preoccupied with another guest to notice.

"I don't think this is a good idea," I whimper under my breath as I quite literally run after the buzzing Hound.

Sandor makes his way down the hall in a break neck speed, at least for me. I have to catch my breath when we enter the weapons room. I heave and look around the foreign place, eyeing the axes, the arrows, the swords, and the armor displayed all over.

"Your pretty boy has good taste," Sandor slurs as he grabs a sword mounted on the wall, knocking over a few others as he did.

I cringe at the clank of steel against ground and step back when Sandor begins to wave his blade around. I mumble, "he's not my pretty boy."

Sandor continues to swing the sword. I pull my head back in agitation.

He then picks up the fallen swords but cannot manage to put them back in their place without moving shakily, and dropping a few.

I panic and press my back against the wall, "my love, this is a horrible idea!"

Sandor stops and turns to me, "how is it horrible? Lord Alistair wanted a sword fight with me, and that's what he's gonna get. He chose this nameday gift, not I."

I watch as he finally manages to put away the swords.

"You were there, my jittery bride."

I straighten up and slowly walk towards him with my palms cautiously raised. Sandor is perfectly still when I come close. I release a sigh of relief when I manage to grab his arms, "please listen. I was also there when you downed three ewers of wine, puppy."

He leans down.

I clench my jaw.

I can feel his breath, smell the alcohol in it, as he mutters, "I'm not a lightweight."

I gasp when he comes low enough to kiss my neck.

My skin pricks when he whispers hotly, "and I'm not a puppy."

My heart is racing when he straightens up. He does so in a rather staggering manner, telling of the effects of his alcohol consumption.

"You're drunk."

"Am not," he rebuts.

I scowl at him, "you're a drunk puppy, my dear."

He smiles, "I thought I was your love?"

My stomach churns.

Sandor purses his lips when I do not respond.

I feel my face prick with heat, "would you listen to me if you knew that I loved you?"

He chuckles, turns his back on me, and heads for the door, "well, do ya?"

I feel like vomiting. I whisper under my breath, "I do."

He reaches for the knob and opens the door, "nice try, beautiful," he reaches a hand out, "come. Maybe your pretty boy will manage to ki-"

"WILL YOU STOP CALLING HIM THAT!" I snap and storm over to him. "Lord Alistair is NOT my pretty boy! He's not mine and will never be!" I feel my blood boil and my eyes begin to fog, "and stop calling me names!"

He pulls his chin back. His face hardens. He opens his mouth to speak but beat him to it before he can say a word.

"Stop mocking me! Stop calling me pretty squirrel! Stop calling me beautiful! It's driving me mad!"

"I'm not mocking you," he speaks lowly, "why would I mock-"

"Well, whatever it is, it needs to come to an end," I point at him, "now let's get this over with. I want to go home."

I storm off and head outside.

I make my way to the back of the Alistair dwelling, which had a large field where the sword fighting will be held.

I stand by the crowd of people and sigh through my nostrils. I watch as Lord Alistair does tricks with his sword, enticing the crowd to laugh and cheer for him.

I feel out of place in my spot because I didn't know anyone else, and because was not at all entertained by the spectacle. All I thought of was how badly I wished this to be over. Damn my drunken husband for agreeing to this.

"Trouble in paradise?"

I turn over and find the smile of Lord Baelish. I release another sigh, "please. Not anymore, Petyr."

Petyr chuckles and shrugs, "I've barely said a word, my dear."

His term of endearment triggers my vexation. I cannot help the way I roll my eyes at him.

He laughs harder, "what darling reaction."

I move away from him.

He steps closer, "did you know there are necromancers in Volantis?"

I glare at him just to look away again.

He gives me a smirk, "they are learned of tar monsters who enjoy eating village folk."

I turn back to him.

He nudges me with his elbow and turns front, "I've put in good word for you. All you have to do is take a ship to Essos. A witch there will get rid of your problems for you at a fair price."

"Hmm," I raise a brow, "oh, undoubtedly. It clearly is that simple."

Petyr turns to me, "it certainly is. Once the woodland monsters are gone, you'll be able to hunt and gather timber from the forest again," he nods his head, "and so will I."

Aha. I purse my lips and debate his words for a moment.

"And I trust you will allow me to fish in the Sterling River as well."

I look forward when the crowd cheers. I see before me, Lord Clegane and Lord Alistair, circling each other, the latter laughing in excitement, the former blank faced and stern. I turn back to Petyr, "very well."

He nods once more.

I look straight again.

"Perhaps a trip to Volantis is exactly what the loving couple need."

I roll my eyes at him.

Sandor and Cedric begin to tussle. The sound of steel biting steel fills the air. Cedric is an eager opponent, pressing forward every chance he gets. Sandor is relaxed and playing the defensive.

This continues for a while, metal clashing, boots skidding, voices grunting, and it was a rather showy match, at least on Cedric's end. Sandor is barely trying, I could tell. He must be conserving his energy. I've seen the way he's trained with the boys in Brown Wood. He's definitely trying to tire Cedric out.

"This is going to be a long match," Petyr whispers to me.

I turn to him and sigh, "a very long one."

Sandor catches this and feels his lips twitch. He turns back to Cedric.

I gasp when Cedric manages to disarm Sandor. The crowds gasp as well, and Cedric too seems surprised.

Sandor shakes his head, " 'm too fucking drunk for this."

Cedric straightens from his defensive stance.

Sandor nods, "well met."

Lord Alistair nods back, smiles, and turns about to bask in his victory.

As he bows to his guests, the Hound makes a beeline towards me. I watch as he comes close, my heart slowly speeds.

He grabs my arm, "we're leaving."

"Oh!" Cedric calls and gestures our way "a round of applause for the Hound."

The guests turn and cheer for him.

Sandor pulls me to his side.

"Come now," Petyr smirks, "won't you even try to best Lord Alistair in another round?"

Sandor leans down towards Lord Baelish and growls, "fuck off."

With that, I am dragged away.

"Sandor."

The Hound's horse continues treading in front of me.

"Sandor."

The Hound still does not stop, turn, or respond.

"Sandor!" I say louder.

Still nothing. 

I make the horse I was riding gallop to his side. He had not spoken to me the whole way back, not when we got on our horses, not when we stopped at an inn for the night, not when we started our journey, and not now that we near the gates of Brown Wood.

"Have you chosen never to speak to me again?" I quip, tightening my grip on my reins. When he looks the opposite direction from me, I scoff and roll my eyes, "should it not be I that never speaks to you, Hound? You've been nothing but insufferable the entire time we were at the feast!"

Sandor still does not budge.

I look forward and catch sight of Brown Wood. I give my horrible husband one last glare before growling and galloping away.

Sandor watches this. He does no effort to follow after.

When I get to the gates, I am immediately greeted by many servants. Polly, in particular, excitedly tells me he's taught the puppies tricks, and quickly leads my horse away after I dismount, keen to tell me more about it.

Lucy, though happy to see me, raised a brow at my missing chaperone, "did you lose your Hound, milady?"

I roll my eyes, "do not speak to me of that beast."

Lucy is bewildered.

I sigh and slump forward, regretting the harshness of my words. I shake my head, "have you prepared a bath for me?"

She knits her brows and nods slowly, "....did something happen at the feast?"

"Of course something happened," I muttered, "the gods are truly testing me." I brush Lucy's arm, "I will tell you more of it later. For now, I need a warm bath."

Lucy nods again and watches me walk off.

Before Polly could follow after, Lucy hooks her fingers into his collar, holding him back. The boy makes a choking sound, stops and turns, staring at Lucy.

"Our lady will not be bothered," she says.

"But the puppies!"

"Later," she pulls her hand away, "go finish your chores if you still have some, boy."

Polly makes a face and grumbles, though he does listen.

Just then, Lucy turns and sees the Hound walking towards the gates, leading his stead by the reins. She waits for him to enter, and the moment he does, she runs her mouth.

"Are ye not tired of playing this game?"

The Hound squints but spares Lucy no glance. He heads for the stables and undoes the ties on his horse.

Lucy flares as she follows after him, "can't you just do us all a favor and stop?"

"I'm not in the mood for nagging, wench."

"Then admit it!"

"Fuckin' what?!" he glares at her.

"That you're mad about your wife!" Lucy snaps.

Sandor stills.

"That you would die for her! That you're upset she wanted to go to another lord's nameday celebration!"

He removes his horse's saddle, "that was a formality."

"YOU'RE A FUCKIN' FOOL!"

Sandor whips his head to her.

"And a coward," Lucy raises a finger.

The Hound chucks the undone saddle to the side and steps forward. He looks down at Lucy, but she is unbothered and unafraid. He is shocked when she shoves him. He topples back.

"She's only ever wanted your love, you thickheaded oaf! Don't you see how hard she tries to please ya?!"

"Please me?" Sandor scoffs, taking another step forward.

"YES!" Lucy shouts, "she wants to be your perfect bride but you know nothing but cruelty. You repay 'er with bitterness."

The Hound feels his mouth sour.

"And puppies."

Sandor watches her wipe her face.

"Because you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be, milord," Lucy says with frustration.

Sandor feels like the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

"I've caught you when you think no one's looking," she speaks softly, "you love her."

Sandor feels his body burn.

"She loves you."

"She d-"

"Fix it before it gets worse. I beg," she sighs.

The Hound is stunned as the maid walks off.

When Polly spots him, the boy unknowingly grates his nerves as he leads the puppies over and shows all the tricks he's taught them. It wasn't much, in all honesty, just a 'stop' and a 'come here', but the three pups did them well.

Sandor couldn't be impressed, he was far too out of it to be anything but queasy.

He tells Polly he's tired and heads to the bedroom. Polly tells him he wants to show Lady Clegane the tricks before they sleep. He doesn't answer the boy. 

Sandor is both disappointed and relieved to find the room empty. His head is heavy as he changes. He feels like he'd sink to the bottom as he goes to bed.

The Hound had been pacing around when I got to the bedroom. He froze when I entered and awkwardly walked back as I headed for the bed.

I didn't speak a word as I went under the covers and laid down. I eyed him as he sat on the edge on the other side, back turned to me. I burn holes into his back with my glare.

It takes a few seconds of him rubbing his lap and him sighing loudly before he breaks his silence.

"I..." he trails off.

I shift in my spot to look at him.

He straightens, "I didn't like the fact that pret-" he cuts himself off and sighs, "that Lord Alistair and Lord Baelish were all over you."

I can't help but scoff, "and you've decided not to speak to me because of some two men's doing?"

"I DIDN'T want to fight," he blurts loudly then softly. 

I watch as he slouches and moves on his side to bring himself under the sheets. He sighs as he covers himself and speaks without looking at me, "I don't like fighting you."

I purse my lips at the thought. His words conflict me. I find it aggravating to hear when it felt like he liked the opposite. A side of me is also unwilling to believe it because it was too hard to believe.

The part of me that was still angry at him for being so petty wants to fight back with equal pettiness. But an even larger part of me felt too exhausted and defeated to argue.

"And yet you always do," I speak plainly as I turn my back on him and fluff my pillow. I take in a deep breath while bringing the sheets over my shoulder. I lay down, facing away from him.

I knew he wouldn't have anything to say to that truth, and yet I take a moment to listen in on him. He doesn't speak nor move at all.

I close my eyes, "go to sleep, husband. It's been a long day."

"Aren't you upset with me? I don't want you to sleep upset with me."

My eyes open. My stomach churns. Did he actually care? My lips part but I can't find myself to speak.

"I didn't speak to you because I know what I'd've done if I did."

I take in a sharp breath and give out a broken whisper, "you've done worse."

Sandor lets out an airy chuckle. It doesn't sound amused at all though.

He doesn't respond anymore. Instead, he shifts in his spot and lays down, as far on his end as he could be. He is on side, staring at the dark corner of the room. He musters all his courage, "forgive me, my lady."

My lips part.

Did he just say that?

"What?" 

I am shocked when I hear him repeat, "forgive me."

I roll on my back and look at him. I feel like I'm going to vomit. I think my body was shaking.

I inhale deeply through my nose, "what would you have done?"

He takes a moment to respond, "what?"

My courage flees me as I find the need to repeat myself. I turn my back on him again and clutch my chest. I can hear my heart pounding, "what-... you said you didn't speak to me because you knew what you would have done..." 

I feel Sandor shift behind me.

I gulp and curl up tighter into myself.

I wait for him to act but he does nothing.

I release a deep breath before speaking, "would you... have hurt me?"

My skin pricks when I hear him sigh, "aye."

I feel sick to my stomach. How could he admit that so easily? 

I think of all the worse things he could have done: smack me, shove me, slay me. I feel body begin to grow hot.

Sandor stares at the ceiling then turns to his side. His chest tightens yet he manages to mutter, "I only want to be gentle with you."

I scoff but it sounds strangled because of how tight my throat was. My eyes begin to well up. My broken voice croaks, "how could you say that?!"

The Hound says nothing.

"What?" I scoff, "you hit me then you tend my wounds?"

He doesn't say a word.

I begin to feel my insides burn.

The longest moment passes.

"How did you want to hurt me?" I snap.

He clenches his jaw then chuckles at himself, "I wanted to make you scream my name as I fucked you against a wall."

My heart leaps into my mouth.

The Hound continues, "I wanted all those fuckers to hear, to know what you were mine, that I was the only one who could do that to you, that I was the only one you'd allow to do that."

My blood runs still.

"The things I'd do to you," he mutters, "you'd be disgusted to know them."

My lips quiver as confusion ripples through me. This was the kind of hurt he wanted to inflict?

"But I want to be gentle," he adds, "I really do."

"Is that why you lied about the pups?" I find myself choking out.

Sandor is taken aback. He also hates how apparent the sound of sadness was.

"I know you were the one that found them and brought them home, not Lucy," I whisper.

"Lucy," he sighs, "she loves you so much, that Lucy. And you love her... You'd take a gift from someone you love."

I shake my head, "that's why you lied? You didn't think I would keep them if they were from you?"

"I didn't want to shroud the pups with my being."

"... I can love more people than just Lucy."

I feel him shift behind me.

My heart thunders in my chest.

"One day... maybe I'll be gentle enough for you to love me."

I feel tears rush down my eyes. I move to turn to him, but then his arm comes around me and holds me back.

"Please," his voice breaks, "I can't stand to see you cry or look at me with pity."

My hand comes atop his arm, "Sandor-"

"Can I kiss you?"

My breath catches in my throat.

His heavy breathing makes my entire body burn.

I slowly nod and manage to squeak out a yes.

Sandor immediately sinks his face into my neck and begins to kiss my skin. His lips were hungry and his beard left scratches all over. He snakes his arm tighter around me and pulls me into his chest. My entire body reacts to him, it burns and pricks and pulses. He kisses my cheek; he kisses my tears away.

My belly tumbles when he rubs it. He props himself up on his other arm, "I'll die a happy man to see you love my babe," he trails kisses up my jaw to my ear, "it's more than I'll ever deserve."

I suck in a deep breath and lean into his touch. I press my body flush against his and this elicits a groan from him. He fists my nightgown into his hand and nips my lobe. He draws in deep breaths and sighs against my ear, "I can be gentle. I can be so gentle."

I take his fist and he immediately releases my clothes. His breathing grows more strangled as he shifts behind me. 

I push his hand down and he shudders when it comes in contact with my thighs. I release his hand and bring my leg atop of his. I pull my skirt up and mumble, "gentle."

"Fucking gods," he kisses my shoulder and pulls my gown up. He rubs my thigh a few times then sinks his hand underneath my smallclothes.

He shushes me as I grow rigid against him and kisses my neck some more.

I whimper when he pulls my undergarments down and moves his fingers into my soft spot. He very much so gently touches me until I begin to melt against him. I arch my back and lean into him.

"Good girl," he mutters, "such a good girl. My beautiful girl."

"More please," I heave.

Sandor presses his body against mine, "don't have to tell me twice."

I whine his name when he sinks a finger into me. My toes curl and my hand grabs onto his bicep.

I make a sound when he pushes deeper, and an even throatier one when he adds another finger.

Sandor brushes my hair away with his other hand then sinks his face into the crook of my neck. He peppers kisses on my skin and my body burns all the more because of it. I turn my face to him and move my mouth close to his.

Flames rage inside my belly when our lips meet.

He goes still for a second when I kiss him. It takes a few moments before his lips move against mine. Though his beard was tickling my skin, the exchange was lovely. It was warm. It was right.

I bring the hand I had on his arm up to his cheek. My fingers find their way to his scalp where I begin to tug his hair gently.

We pull away when I yelp at the feel of his hand going back to work. Sandor does not relent his kisses on my cheeks, nose, and eye lids.

"Does it feel good?" he asks in between pecks.

I whimper as I nod.

Sandor sighs and grazes his teeth against my neck, "so good."

I mewl when he begins to pump his fingers faster into me.

"So sweet and soft and beautiful-- so, so beautiful against me."

"Sandor-"

"I want to feel you," he growls under his breath, "want to be inside you," he nips my lobe again, "want to fill you up, give you the babe you want."

I nod and chase after his lips. I kiss him desperately, "please."

It's not long until his fingers are replaced by his cock. We both tense against each other then slowly relax and reconnect our mouths.

I am surprised when I feel his tongue brush against my lips. I squeak when he begins to buck his hips into me at a slow but purposeful pace.

He presses his fingers into my inner thigh, pulling that leg closer towards him. I bring my hand down to his forearm and grip him for dear life. He pushes his chest into my back and breaks our kiss to allow us both a breath.

Sandor maneuvers himself into a better position. He nearly has me sprawled on top of him. He locks his grip on my hips and snaps into me with all that he's got.

He calls my name. He calls me beautiful. He calls me his wife. He tells me he loves me.

It's all too much that my eyes begin to water and my belly begins to tighten.

Though his movements were wild and sharp, and though the sound we were both making were loud and lewd, there was something sacred about it, something sincere.

I nearly sob when I come undone. I cry out his name as I feel intense pleasure crash all over my body. My mind is too misty to take into account that Sandor had been repeating the same three words as he too fell into bliss.

He doesn't immediately stop moving. He only does so when I'm laid back on my side again.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel him shift away from me.

"Don't pull away!" I snap. I grab his arm and wrap it around me, trapping it between my own. I lean back into him, "don't leave me! You keep leaving me."

Sandor, who was just catching his breath, feels like he was winded all over again. He thinks about the discomfort that this position will bring, but he figures sex just leaves people emotional and clingy sometimes.

He kisses my cheek, "we'll stay like this, if that's what you want."

I nod enthusiastically and turn to kiss him.

When I do however, he pulls his face back. It makes me go rigid.

It takes a second for Sandor to realize what he did. He is now overly conscious of the scar on his face and the damned reflex he has for it. He opens his mouth but he doesn't say anything.

I begin to feel my face burn and yet I'm too stunned to move.

The next moment, we speak at the same time then immediately go silent.

I gulp and turn away from him, bursting out as I did, "I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to overstep."

"You did nothing wrong." he shakes his head.

"You asked if you could kiss me," I mumble, "I didn't do the same."

"You can do whatever you want with me-"

"Sandor-"

"-I belong to you. I am your hound. That's all I am."

My eyes glass at his words. I feel him kiss my nape. My skin pricks when he rubs his hand down my belly.

He sighs heavily, "... sorry for being so broken."

I screw my eyes shut.

"... you can kiss me... if you really want to."

I nearly break my neck turning it back so quick. I press my face against his and just remain like this for a moment. I brush my nose against his textured skin and recall the time I did the same during our wedding night. He pulled away then, he pulled away now.

"I'm sorry you can't trust me," I whisper.

Sandor doesn't have the time to react to that.

I leave about a hundred kisses on his scar before my neck begins to tire. I knit my brows and whisper again, "don't let me go."

I face front and feel sleepiness catch up with me.

"Good night, Sandor."

I vaguely hear him whisper I love you behind me.

Sandor woke up with sunshine shining down his face. He was more than well-rested. He honestly doesn't remember the last time he slept this good.

He stretches in bed and groans. It takes him three seconds to realize he was alone.

It's almost enough to make him shoot upright in panic. The only reason he doesn't is because he quickly thinks it was fucking stupid of him to feel anything, any sort of panic or worry-- worse, hurt or sadness for waking up alone.

He did that many times over, left her alone-- too many times to count, surely more times than the good night's of sleep he's had.

So, he lays there with a stone-heavy pit of emptiness in the middle of his rib cage. There was nothing else to do with it crushing his chest. No amount of reasoning, of rational explanations that his wife was the lady of Brown Wood, who was always busy, who was always attending many other people, nothing could lift the stone weighing down on his chest.

He feels like he's slowly choking.

The Hound only gets up when he hears the small barks of the pups coming from outside. Somehow the idea of his wife waking up to attend to the dogs made this ordeal bearable.

He heads to the bathroom first and freshens up.

After, he heads to the living area and tenses when a pair of servant girls greet him good morrow. His lips twitch as he grunts and nods at them. The girls perk up and stare at him for a second as they pass. He vaguely hears them mumbling 'did he just greet us back?' as they each head their way.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. He should have said good morrow in return. Fuck. 

It probably doesn't matter. He's been ignoring everyone since they've moved here. Why start now?

Well... he was ignoring everyone except Lucy, who vexingly demanded his attention; Daisy, who used to do the same... and his lady.

Sandor opens the front door and steps outside.

His-

"Lady Clegane," Petyr fucking Baelish nods and reaches a hand to his wife.

Sandor is stunned. This wretched, slimy looking Littlefinger-man was up on his stupidly embellished steed, which, mind you, was too big for the fucker, kissing his wife's knuckles a goodbye.

What the fuck was he doing here so fucking early?

Littlefuckingfinger smiles and straightens up as he releases her. His wife waves goodbye.

As she does so, Littlefinger catches sight of Sandor and his smile pulls into a self-satisfied little smirk. He nods his head once to him and fucking rides off. Even fucking Polly waves him goodbye and it makes him want to chase after him and gouge his eyes out.

"Husband."

The Hound averts his gaze.

Sandor's breath is knocked out of his lungs when he sees his wife gleaming at him.

Fuck, she's walking over.

Everything in him is so overwhelmed by her that he nearly steps back.

She holds something in her hands as she gives him a lopsided smile, "you had a good sleep."

He opens his mouth to speak but a lump in his throat stops him. He gulps.

She laughs. She does so with grace, her pretty teeth all bared to him, "I wished to stay with you until you woke, but I could not leave Brown Wood unattended till late in the afternoon."

For a moment, he is in disbelief and doubts it was actually midday. He looks up and sees, indeed, the sun was at its height.

He looks back to her to apologize for sleeping in, but again, his voice is lost to him. By only taking one step towards him, she renders him powerless. She intensifies it by taking his arm and giving him that look, that look of apprehension that was masked in sweetness. It was maddening.

"Will..." she draws a deep breath, "you let me kiss you?"

What the fuck?

Her brows raise. She pulls her hand away, "y-you don't have to."

"Wait-" gods, did he say that aloud? "-no. You can! You can!" he responds with desperation, "you don't even have to ask."

His wife smiles back at him, but it's not the same. 

Gods, he's ruined it again. 

He is surprised when she still leans over and gives his cheek a quick peck.

He barely has time blush as he's turning his head to watch her as she walks past him. She says something about breaking fast and he mutters something incoherent in response.

Sandor doesn't even realizes that he's been made to sit down on the dining table, until one of the pups take his seat before he can.

Where did they even come from?

"Fuck off then," he says, shooing the small thing. It barks loudly and then he realizes it's the loud one, Lilac. He growls, "off, Lilac!"

Lilac makes a smaller sound of protest but has no other choice but to get off the chair when Sandor tips it over.

He quickly sits down and makes a victorious face to the puppies, who continue to bark at him.

He watches as the pups quiet down as his wife comes back holding a bowl of stew and a spoon. His insides tingle when she leans close to him to set it down before him. She then drags a chair and sits next to him.

He takes the spoon.

She smiles at him and rests her head on her hand, her elbow on the table, "eat up."

Sandor releases a breath and does just that, "thank you."

He realizes just how hungry he was at this moment. He begins to pig out.

"Thank you for holding me throughout the night."

The Hound almost gargles his food in his throat trying to muster up a response.

She laughs and touches his arm again, "it's alright. Just eat."

Sandor doesn't have a moment to say that he would hold her until she gets sick of him.

His wife straightens up and pushes a something towards him, a letter, it seems, "Lord Baelish gave this to me."

He nearly chokes as he swallows.

He doesn't like the way his wife smiles when she continues to speak of him, "he's given me a map and letters to aid my passage to Volantis-"

"Volantis?" he sets his spoon down with more force than necessary, "the fuck is in Volantis?"

She straightens up, "remember we met at Lord Alistair's nameday?"

"Fucking Alistair."

She sighs through her nostrils, "Lord Baelish spoke to me then of someone who knows how to get rid of the monsters in the forest."

"Am I not enough for you?" he turns his body to her, "you need to hire some sellsword on the other side of the world to kill those fucks for you?"

He watches her withdraw before his very eyes. She brings her hands together and places them on her lap. She purses her lips into a soft smile before speaking, "there is no one in the world, this side or the other, that I would trust with handling the monsters in battle. But," she sighs, "Lord Baelish didn't speak to me of a sellsword. He spoke of a witch."

"And you fucking trust him?" he quips impatiently, "you'd trust a witch vouched by Littlefinger?"

She sighs again. She no longer finds it in her to pull a smile, "I do-"

"Well, don't."

"-because he'll get something out of it."

The Hound clenches his jaw and rubs his knuckles with his thumbs.

"In return for his help, I would be allowing Petyr to access to our fish, game, and wood."

The Hound sighs heavily, "Petyr.'

She shakes her head and chuckles. She chuckles until she breaks into a genuine laugh, "but matters not. If my lord does not approve then there is nothing more to do."

Sandor's stomach sinks when she stands up.

"I'll go ahead with my errands now," she nods and offers a lopsided smile.

Just before she walks away, Sandor grabs her hand and weakly mutters, "no, please. Please stay."

She laughs softly; she laughs sweetly. She places her palm on his knuckles then takes his hand in both of hers. She kisses the back of his hand and shakes her head, "I am not leaving, my lord, merely going off to do my errands."

The Hound stops her from letting go. He clutches her hands firmly in his larger one. He parts his lips to beg her to stay.

But then, he sees her change. He sees her slip on a mask of a dutiful wife. She is about to smile, about to tell him that if he insists, she will stay, for him. He knew in his bones that she would.

And so he lets her go and looks away in shame. He can't bear to look at her, so he clears his throat and compromises, "I'd like to eat with you later... if you have the time."

It takes a long moment for her to respond. Sandor, whose eyes were stuck to the floor, find the pups were now sleeping under the table.

"I would like that too, my love."

Sandor chuckles drily at the pet name and grabs his spoon. He rather bitterly says, mostly to himself, "you don't have to call me that."

He waits for her to walk away.

She doesn't.

He turns to her when he vaguely hears her mumble something. He waits for her to repeat herself, but she doesn't.

"What was that, pretty squirrel?"

She shakes her head and curtsies, "I said enjoy your food."

He watches her walk off. He wonders what she actually said, because it sure as hell wasn't that. He swirls his stew around idly.

[daenystheedreamer]

So we all know that sansa is a tumblr girlie but like who do you think is the character she has the most insane tumblr beef with?

i'd say cersei but actually it's lysa omg can you imagine....

@ladybaelysa 30↑NSFW | voluptuous redhead mother of 1 and fandom aunt | been posting smut since you were in diapers 😊 im sassy, classy, more than a little badassy | NOT here for puritan bs 💁‍♀️ | brats do not test me and beware my block hammer 🖕

📌 pinned post

to those believing everything a callout post on tumblr tells you, know that i have a lawyer and am NOT afraid to use him 👩🏻‍🦰 if you're here because @/lemonlady told you i 'strangled her' and 'accused her of seducing my husband' even though 'she's a minor' and 'my niece' and 'he's just a tulpa' ill have you know that i am happy to add you to the lawsuit i am filing against her!

and to those saying my tulpa of secretary of the treasury petyr baelish is 'not real' and therefore 'not my husband' you are a BIGOT. we are HAPPILY married (in a beautiful ceremony during a reality shifting session in hogwarts 👰‍♀️). you are close minded and were probably convinced by a certain redhead niece of mine (who is a proud 'LESBIAN' fyi!)

[rise-my-angel]

A Poisonous Truth (Part One)

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader x Ellaria Sand

Length: 25k

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, mentions past instances of rape not related to reader, inference to past domestic abuse, sex work/prostitution, smut, m/f/f dynamics, canon divergence, semi slow burn

Notes: Follows along season 4 but the story diverts from canon more and more as it goes along. Ellaria is an active part of the romance story. There are and will be many book elements pulled into the story as opposed to strictly the show canon. I don't know what happened with the length , I'm so sorry.

Part 2 Now Posted

Cross Posted to Ao3

King’s Landing by far is the most disgusting place you had been too. Your journey, if you could call it that, traveling down south had you encountering a multitude of unfavorable conditions, and yet, the capitol was somehow the most unpleasant of them all. When the city had first come up into sight, a distant view coming into the light as the morning sun rose above the red keep. It didn’t even look good then. 

The only part of the city that didn’t look jam packed was the peak where the Red Keep lay, but the presence of your ruling monarch did little to impress. The streets were packed with people, most of whom didn’t seem to have anywhere near the comforts you would have expected of the citizens of the capitol. Poverty seemed everywhere, every twist and turn protruding a foul plethora of odors, and without the brightness of the sun to shine, too busy geaning onto the delicately constructed city centre, the streets felt dark and cramped. 

The only silver lining was that the Street of Silk was just a breath more attractive then the claustrophobic unkempt streets which you had been led there by. A discreet metal sign hanging from the tops of an entrance with nothing more than a mockingbird printed on it, signified the brothel to which you now had to call home. 

Only one real thing could be said about where your life had now led you, a small silver lining to your new accommodations, your brothel was owned by the once titled Master of Coin Petyr Baelish. The only positive of that being that you had consistent access to proper food and clean water, a luxury you were only afforded because such amenities needed to be made for what you were told was, high quality clientele. 

Though, those aren’t quite the words you would attribute to them. High quality only meant, they could afford to pay inordinate amounts of cash to do whatever they want and demand to be spoiled as much as they want. You were told before arriving that, because it was nobles, knights, men of the royal court who you would be servicing, that you would find better treatment here. 

Not even close. The smaller brothel you had found refuge in, was more cramped, dark, dirty, and clean water wasn’t even a guarantee, but the clients were travellers. People in the middle of a journey, looking to find company or reprieve from the quiet monotony of travel. Sure, they weren’t all kind, but they were interesting. Loud, boisterous men, almost more concerned with being seen as strong and entertaining then with the quality of service from whomever they had paid for. 

Quiet folk, wanting the companionship of intimacy to quell the long spells of nights filled with silence. Sometimes, they were simply people just looking to find a bed for the night, and being able to share one with a woman was more appealing then another night on a bedroll laid in the dirt next to the same stinky men they had travelled with for weeks. They were unique, such vast personalities not worried with how they appeared or looked because it did not matter. You remembered having nights where clients had spent more time making you laugh with their stories, then they had inside your body. Other times, they were men eager to teach you something, playful sessions showing you how to yield their weapons leading to an inevitable pin by the stronger warrior. 

Kings Landing was nothing like that. These men, these nobles and knights were not kind. They were greedy, demanding, and rough. They paid high amounts of coin to have the right to use you how they saw fit. The brothel was set up this way on purpose. The loose rules of treatment Little Finger had set into place allowed these rich members of the court to come back time and time again, spending their gold on the right to use you like a doll made for their pleasure alone. 

You had yet to meet the infamous weasel. You knew he was still in King's Landing, but having many cogs in motion at once he clearly felt he had better things to do than run his own business. Olyvar was currently the one in charge, well, in a sense. 

He also was under Little Fingers employ, catering to men with same sex interests alone, that gave him a certain level of time to find new responsibility. Simply put, Kings Landing seemed to look down upon that kind of behaviour, clients seeking out male services being much more uncommon, but highly sought after when needed. It seemed to have given him time to learn a touch of leadership. 

It was Olyvar who had been in charge the day you arrived, which honestly, was far better than meeting the infamous Lord himself. Sure he was personable and charming, most of them here were, but he also, wasn’t the one whom had made the deal to bring you here. Whatever backwater deals had been made to bring you here without any explanation, wasn’t made by him. One woman would later tell you that Baelish was dirty and manipulative, that speaking to him sometimes could feel almost humiliating. That when he held all the cards in a plan that you had no knowledge about, he would take pleasure in knowing he could control you however you wanted. 

Olyvar was still human deep down, which meant that he recognized the mask you wore when you arrived, a level of fear  in your eyes giving away a terror that you tried so desperately to hide in your body language. He didn’t know why obviously, no one knew why, and they never could. 

You had been brought here from another brothel, so it wasn’t the fear of being forced into a position you knew nothing of, no this was a fear you intended to keep silent. The fear of a secret you were once so sure no one could guess, now in a place where someone could know. Someone who may recognize who you used to be. 

Part of you recognized that it was unlikely. It had been well over a year, maybe even closer to two years since that day and you knew you looked different. Your hair, cut, styled, and dyed already hid the resemblance in your face quite well, you wore makeup now, even your body had changed. Recognizable scars that you never used to have, the way you hold yourself drastically altered due to your new profession, even your size, now softer. Weak, under fed, with no muscles to speak of, gave way to much softer, more plush skin. A plushness that lured men into your services with the promise of something to grab onto that matched your softer, quieter disposition.  

Something the other girls here picked up on right away. One you had seemed to form some kind of a friendship with, Genna, had commented on that fact one evening. "Sometimes men ask for me cus they have no idea what they’re doing.” 

Your own body, laying back one arm draped across your stomach while the other arched above your head, hand slipping to rest beneath the pillow, suddenly perched up onto your elbows with a raise of your eyebrows to accompany it. “So they what, ask you to teach them?” 

A smug little smile stretched across her face, “More like they need someone to guide them.” Genna hops back to the bed, knees placed down on each side of your own thighs, as she starts moving her fingertips to dance over them, “Need a girl in charge, show them how it works, tell them what to do.” 

Her fingers reach your stomach, and playfully pulls off the thin fabric you had lazily covered yourself with after your last client had finished with the two of you. In reaction, one of your own hands goes to grab it back, face scrunching in an unconvincing annoyed look. Genna simply jerks it back harder, only to come back with both hands and grasp your wrists holding them in place as she leans over you. “Virgins who need me to show them how to be in charge of little softies like you.” 

Your face barely hid the need to laugh, pretending as if her giggles were one sided. “Oh so I’m such a little softie now, huh? Not sure that's the word big boy was just calling me 10 minutes ago.” Wiggling your eyebrows enough that both you and Genna laughed. 

Releasing your hands, she finally relaxes, flops down onto the ruffled sheets beside you, both of you too lazy to detangle your legs as you both turned enough to see the other. Genna’s own hand comes up to gently move hair out of your face as she speaks. “Yeah, but I reckon that’s why they brought you here.’ 

You only got out a disbelieving look before she continued. “No, I'm serious. Some girls either come in here, hoping that fancy men means more money, and then leave when they aren’t dressed in golden robes bought with piles of their new riches. Those that stay, usually are normal. Here to do a job, smile at men, suck their cock and make ‘em happy. But I think you fit a specific niche.” 

Turning your body to lay on its side, head propped up by your hand as Genna does the same. “Oh, and what would that be?” Part of you already knows the answer, but you want to know what the others see in you.

“Someone soft, someone gentle but not timid. Men who want a submissive girl that makes them feel like they’re really in charge. Willing quiet things who need a big dominating man to corrupt your soft little innocence, instead of just a girl following orders because she’s getting paid to.”

Her hand coming back to stroke stands of your hair, “A real fantasy of a soft sweet girl willing to do anything a big strong man needs and demands of her, simply because she just really wants it.”

Your eyes cast downward for a moment, the faint sounds of giggling and loud moans echoing from other rooms. For a brief moment, you felt like you were somewhere far from where you ended up. Flashing to the reason you were hiding, barely a whisper coming out with a small nod of your head. “Men who want to feel in charge, not just act like it.” 

Genna calls your name, well, what you had told them what your name was, “You still with me? Or all that cock today finally putting you to sleep?” 

And like that, you were back. Back to the name you had given them, the person you were brought here to be. Your secret locked back up, no one to ever find it. Your hand grabbing the pillow behind you and giving her a hearty smack. 

Genna’s yelp only to be followed with a fight to take the pillow from you, giggling turning into loud laughter until the expected sight of two naked girls playing around in bed caught the attention of yet another faceless highborn ready to put you right back to work. 

You weren’t in the building the day Peytr Baelish tuned up. Having spent the morning, up and down the streets with another girl you worked alongside, Armeca. The morning sun grew hotter and hotter, the two of you made your way to get a view of the water before returning back. It was a short reprieve from the life you had created for yourself. Looking upon the strikingly bright blue water that ran from the channel out into the Narrow Sea. An escape that felt so painfully far from your resch.

Getting lost in the striking water, you missed Armeca calling your name until she came up beside you and linked your arm into hers. “What have you never seen water before?” She laughs gently before pulling you alongside her to make the walk back. “We need to get back.”

There had been whispers around the city regarding the King as of late. It was hard to make out the details, whispers amongst the people you walked by on the streets, or fragments of conversation between the knights and nobles. Sometimes you heard things indirectly, the men assuming you weren’t listening too  busy with the task at hand, or more blatantly as men had you and other girls sit in their laps as they drank and traded gossip like a couple of fish wives. 

Honestly, you didn’t know much about how the war had ended, but you knew the talk grew louder after it had. Gathering as much as the North had been defeated, usually only spoken about in shrewd and disgusting mockery of what became of the Stark corpses. Learning that the North was now held by Roose Bolton, a decision no doubt decided by Tywin Lannister you could only guess. Choosing men as heartless and cruel as he to hold the Lannister influence wherever they could get their hands on. 

It made your spine tingle, having a good sense of the kind of men loyal to Tywin. You knew Roose Bolton, since he had known your father. A man just as vile as the plethora of distantly related Lannisters who frequented your services. But you pushed it down. That wasn’t your life anymore. 

Arriving back at the brothel, you finally met the man so mysteriously spoken of, even by those in his employ. Walking in on the tail end of a discussion with Olyvar about preparations of some kind. You stayed close to a wall, Baelish hadn’t been here since you’ve arrived, but he was the one who brought you here, paid off your previous boss to bring you all the way to King's Landing for reasons never explained to you. They were reasons only he knew, and you had a strong suspicion he had no intentions of telling you outright. 

It was Armeca who spoke, bringing his gaze right in your direction. “Preparations for what?” 

Did that unnerving smirk ever leave his face? “For the wedding, of course. King Joeffry’s marriage to Margaery Tyrell is soon approaching, and we’ll need to be ready.”

Baelish had begun walking towards the two of you, but slowly, and not even in a straight path. As if he was toying with you by not just coming up to you directly. “Men all over the city will be busy, worked up, in need more than ever of some close company. But more importantly, visitors. Many head of houses will be making their way to the capitol to attend the wedding, and I need every one of you,” 

Finally coming up closer, he looked at you as he spoke. You hadn’t asked any question, but he answered almost to you as he invaded your personal space. “To be on alert at all times.” He looked at you, watching him with such a hard impassive face there was no mistaking you were trying to play a facade. “You never know what kind of men will walk through our doors in the upcoming weeks, you need to be prepared.” 

Finally he turned away. “All of you.” 

America has already left your side, but you stood there watching him as he turned his back to share some final words with Olyvar before leaving. As he faced your direction, you began to busy yourself, hoping to rush past in a display of needing to change into proper attire, but your arm was grabbed just as your body passed his. 

It was unclear if the look in your eyes was fear, anger, or shock, but that smirk on Lord Baelish's own face stayed all the same. “So good to have you here, my dear. I knew bringing you all the way to the city would work out just fine. “ 

His eyes locked with yours, until he let his hold on you go, and walked out. The girls were right, you were better off never speaking to him directly. Making your way to your quarters you were lost, distracted with uncovering what he meant. 

He couldn’t know. It was impossible. Baelish was the furthest option of anyone who could possibly recognize you, and yet, the way he looked at you, spoke to you. Spies all over the city for various individuals were commonplace in Kings Landing, but part of you wondered, how far did that network reach. Were you really brought here for this, or did he bring you here for something else entirely? 

If he knew who you were, no doubt there was some plan in his mind of how to use you, and the second he was ready to do it you might be trapped forever from making any free choice of your own ever again. If everything went according to plan, you felt terrified towards whatever intentions were in store for you. 

Only, no one’s plans were going to work out the way they wanted. Only one person’s plans would, and it would slowly unravel the very core of anyone you now, or will know. But, it was impossible for you to know that fate was even an option, it was a fate that would, in due time, shock everyone. But for now, you had work to do, you and the others all preparing yourself for a constant flow of brand new rich noblemen whom would continue to line Baelish’s pockets with gold. 

For a while, you found yourself catering to a variety of clientele making their way into the city for the Royal Wedding. Mostly thoughtless Lords looking to take advantage of having a beautiful woman in a luxurious bed. Sometimes married men who can now do whatever they desire with you, that their wives back home have no interest in, but all of whom have little to no interest in even learning your name. 

For a while, it almost felt like a kind of routine, a predictable round of clients coming in and out, so busy that only a few regular faces popping by in the business. The ones you know from multiple visits, commenting that most of the arrivals piled into the city at once, coming from nearby areas. Eager to take advantage of the festivities and attempting to schmooze their way into a closer seat to the crown during the celebration. 

The influx of people was enough for a while to distract you from your encounter with Little Finger. The constant demand of your attention taking the forefront of your mind, but it wouldn’t last forever. As the families closer to Kings Landing had settled in, there was less traffic of new faces as the further the House lived, the longer in between new people you began to see. 

During the early hours of the morning, sun just barely beginning to peek into the sky, pouring just enough light into your room to wake up your distracted mind, was when you had the thought. Standing by the window, a velvety sheet draped over your person, you thought of your home. A pang of nerves all set off at once, your body feeling a flow of anxiety as sharp as the strike of a match. 

He wouldn’t come here, would he? The ruling class here was unarguably Lannister, and his allegiance wouldn’t be brushed off lightly. Not by the hot tempered king, rife with anger and immaturity, and not by the hand of the king. Tywin, a man who only strikes against his enemies with patience and strategy, but aims to devastate when he does. Neither man would welcome him here at the drop of a hat, only willing to switch sides right before the one he started in, lost. Afterall, you had seen almost no Northern men since arriving in King's Landing. 

But it didn’t stop the fear. The growing anxiety of him finding you, how quickly he would drag you out into the streets, humiliate you for all to see. Would he draw the torture out? Bring you all the way back, just to execute you in the place and people you ran from? Or would his anger boil over and end you right there, leaving you in the dirty streets until someone had the decency to move your rotting corpse. 

Either was as likely as the other. The great shame finding you alive and hiding in a brothel in the capitol, the shame it would bring upon him that he failed so badly that keeping you alive would be out of the question. 

Afterall, your father was nothing but a cruel and sadistic man. Put your life on a cliifs edge when you threatened to expose the extent of his cruelness, and when that failed? When no one on your land or in the neighbouring towns could find a hint of you? He had declared you missing, and not long after that, dead. 

You couldn’t be sure why he had waited to declare you dead, when you knew he would never pretend like you were still alive. Maybe to buy him some time to come up with a plausible explanation to why they knew you were dead, but no body was seen and no funeral was held. By that point, you were too far away. You were already travelling south, and what he was saying about you didn’t matter. 

Did Little Finger know? Is that why he brought you here? He finds out the supposedly dead daughter of Lord is hiding with a new identity in a brothel, and brings you here to use as some kind of collateral or pawn in one of the many despicable plans he has? 

Little Finger hadn’t been around for days, and you hoped the much more interesting opportunity of manipulating the many fresh nobles and court members was a better priority. To the people of this city, you were no one. Just a soft face, seen only by rich men looking to fuck, and none of them cared enough to consider your existence beyond that. 

Well, no one cared, until more eyes than just the ever untrustworthy Little Finger, found yours. More eyes than had ever paid that kind of attention to you, and in ways much less sinister than those of your elusive boss. 

The day he arrived, you hadn’t even been aware of his presence until he had already caused a commotion. Too preoccupied with a more senior man, lonely and requesting one of the hot water tubs which rested in a private room with a closed door for client privacy. Not too demanding of a man, just a widowed gentleman looking for a woman to sit on his cock while giving him a gentle scrub while soaking in the warm water. By the time you had made your way into the main room, a trio of men arrived in the brothel, one of which had trained his eyes upon you almost instantly. 

It wasn’t uncommon as of late, for you to be placed near the entrance, welcoming the men coming in with your soft eyes and a gentle touch. You were told it helped make new visitors feel admired and wanted as they found their pick. 

Their early needs were quite simple, really. Leading them to a warm room, and letting them take a seat as you begun pouring drinks. One of them, quite touchy from the beginning. The other two men, bright eyes with smug, satisfied faces made passing comments. Nothing interesting or remotely new, just a back and forth as if you couldn't hear them making lewd comments about you. What others consider regular small talk, was typically replaced with just thirst and greedy touches in places like this. 

The third man has found his way behind you, one hand finding its way under the sheer, loose fabric covering your chest, while the other pulling your hips back into his own. “She’s such a gracious host isn’t she boys?” Chuckles followed, yours with a fake flattery meant to stroke an ego. “Woman like this? She definitely needs some one on one time, to thank her. Don’t you think so, sweetheart?” 

So, you had found the remaining pair, two young beauties, poured their drinks, and left them to their own devices. The two girls each sat in one of their laps. The door to the next room had only just shut, the man finding his own seat nearby and beckoning you to kneel between his legs. As you worked to undress his lower half, he boasted. Lamenting what a great opportunity it was for a girl such as yourself to be on your knees in front of a Lannister. 

Typical. You hadn’t the chance to meet many of them face to face since your arrival, but their presence left a smug trail anywhere they went. Proud and cocky, their family’s prominent rule on the Iron Throne no doubt left any relative in the house the desire to show off how appealing they were. The fact that you couldn’t even tell them what their names were was a big indicator of how unimportant they didnt realize they were. Not that you could ever think of saying it, but you out of all the working girls here, would be able to easily recognize someone of any actual significance. 

You worked him over with your hand as he spoke, the man’s ego not able to keep quiet enough to even let you just get to work. No, he wanted to keep your mouth free still, just so you could shower him with soft, wide eyed awe of his success and skill, the prowess all such men surrounding the family held. 

At first, the sound in the room next to you wasn’t enough to worry. A grunt or yell of some sorts had come from one of the men next door, not exactly tinted in something that screamed pleasure. It was enough for the both of you to cast your eyes to the door, but if there was speaking going on it was quiet enough that you couldn’t hear it through the door. 

The two girls leaving the room whispering urgently to each other as they left. One turned her head to look back at the shut door they came through, only to have the other tug her away out of sight before you could figure out the situation. Another grunt of what sounded much more like pain came through again. This time alerting the both of you enough that he had stood up from his seat. Eyes trained on the door, he gestured for you to silently tuck him back in before he took a step forward. 

Then a loud cry of clear agony let out, finding its way from your ears down into your heart as it began to pump with anxiety. It was more common that a girl would find herself on the end of that kind of pain, then a client. What on earth were the remaining pair doing in there?

An immediate answer found you as the two men from before came bursting through the door, one doubled over as if the other had to carry part of him out. Blood clearly spewing from his wrist and cries of pain coming out freely. Your own companion moved forward to hold onto the wound and made their way to leave, in discernible anger being muttered from one of the men as they left. 

Before the door could shut, you moved to step into its threshold to see what had even taken place. Blood on the table you had just set up, and a number of people standing in the middle of the room who you didn't normally see here. You could see Olyvar at the other end of the room, by the open hall watching carefully but also surprised at whatever had occurred before leaving the room.

You recognized the sound of Tyrion Lannister, you had never seen him here for sex by the time you arrived, but there had been more than one occasion he had to come in to get the guard typically by his side. You don’t remember his name though, you think Armeca was one of his regular girls. 

Then your eyes found them. How you could have possibly missed it before was beyond you, the tall pair in the middle, dressed in golds and orange standing out in the middle of the deeper, more muted colours draped around the room. One of them turning, his body now facing your view more clearly, as the woman behind him wrapping her arms around to follow. 

The man's voice is what really stuck out. “You don’t partake?”  You knew this accent, but it had been many years since you last heard one like it, and it didn’t quite place right away. 

“Oh, I partook. Now I’m married.” Sansa Stark, right. You had heard about after her fathers execution was announced, and rumours of her being held there by the Queen like a prisoner. And whispers followed through Westeros about her being forced into a marriage. Gods, she was still here even now. Married to Tyrion Lannister in some kind of cruel joke on both of them it seems. 

The man in gold, tall and broad from what you could see, with a handsome face to match, noting an angular nose framing him quite handsomely, In the moment, you weren't sure. But, clear dark eyes met yours for the briefest of seconds in the silence before Tyrion begun to speak again. 

“Prince Oberyn,” A cold shiver crept its way down your spine. That’s who this was. You knew this man, or at least, you knew of him by way of reputation. It was another Martell who you actually knew, it felt like a lifetime ago now or a different life to be more accurate. “If I may, a word in private?” 

There was a pause in his movements as he watched Tyrion closely, before separating from the woman behind him to follow the Lannister outside. You could only stand in your place, watching them leave. You didn’t know Tyrion, the whispers about him vary from place to place and person to person. 

He was a Lannister, a member of the most powerful, yet most hated family in the Seven Kingdoms. A family deeply hated by the very man he asked to speak with. On the other hand, he also was said to be smart, very smart, but very despised by his own family. The part of you inside, the one still alive deep down, couldn’t help but wonder what’s to come of that. The old person you once were finding itself lost in wonder of what Oberyn Martell’s presence meant to the Lannisters, and what Tyrion intended to get out of him. 

But, in this place, in this brothel that was not your place. Your only curiosity about the man should be if the rumours of the short Lannister’s prowess in bed was true. It should be on simply providing the Prince as quality of service as you can. Nothing more. 

Though maybe, not quite just those things. You hadn’t heard Tyrion's guard leave, too distracted by pushing down your true curiosities. That’s not surprising, you were never keen on making yourself available to him. He liked the sound of his voice so much that you’re not sure he ever shut up, and insultingly enough, you suspected you just weren’t small and petite enough for his taste. 

This woman in front of you, she was something else entirely. Like her lover, she was quite tall, with long curls falling down her back and the orange dress across her body soft and enticing. Her face though, was anything but soft. 

Neither was her voice. “Do all the girls here like to stare, or am I just special?” A smooth yet seductive tone to her voice matched with the sharp eyes trained on your person. 

Your body straightened up as you took a step further into the room, but her own feet moved faster. She hovered above you, eyes unblinking as she searched your person for something unknown. “I was going to apologize for such a mess being caused during a guest's stay, but something tells me you are used to things getting messy.” 

She’s hard to read, but you wonder if she was surprised in any way, her eyebrows raised almost in question as you slipped by her, making your way to the table to gauge how much blood there would be to clean. The silky accent followed in your path as you moved. “I would put all of the blame on my dear lover, but you cannot be with someone as long as we have had each other, without becoming just a little too much like them. If not just used to his temper.” 

Coming up to the table, she stood at the adjacent side and glanced down to the blood you were now moving one of the drinks away from. “This particular mess though, is Oberyn’s speciality, so in this case yes it is his fault.” She chuckled before grabbing the other drink to join the other you had moved. 

“And yours?” You were closer than she expected, seeing a sly glint in your eye the more she looked into them. 

“My what?” Her head tilted slightly, black curls falling over one shoulder slightly. 

Your hand raised up, letting her hair slip into a gentle grasp of your fingers, before sweeping them over the skin of her shoulder to put it back into place. You didn’t look back up as you said, too preoccupied with how she felt under your fingertips. “What kind of messes does a woman such as yourself leave?”  

That feeling sparked across your skin, following your veins and finding a home electrocuting your heat just a tad more, as her own hand took yours into hers. Placing it between both of hers as she turned your palm up and traced the lines laying there. “Only the kinds you could ever want.” 

Eyes widening playfully, mouth opening in a mock surprise. “That I could want? Last time I checked, my services haven’t been booked by any women such as yourself at the moment.” What was it about this woman that kept you speaking in such a free way? She drew you in, but almost like she was a mystery you intended to only unravel at your leisure. Not like a client wanting to appear mysterious simply as boast. 

Her head leaned into your personal space, her words lowering closer to something akin to a whisper. “And has it ever?” Your eyes squinted in question, the woman's hand coming up to trail down your cheek with the touch of a feather. “Has a woman ever had your time in such a way, little one?”  

It was a fight, keeping the pounding of your heart, the thrill of the unknown coursing through your body down and masked by a smirk. Leaning closer, sealing more of the shrinking gap between you. “Not many women in a place like this, other than to drag their husbands right back out.” 

Her curious smirk turned closer to a smile, “Is that why I get those stares? Because I'm usually the bad guy?” 

An actual laugh was finally brought out of you, you could lie and help make the girls she had already encountered look a little more confident, but a louder part of you couldn’t help but wonder if it was the truth she wanted more. So you gave it to her. “The girls stare at you honestly because you intimidate them.” You leaned back slightly to nod at the door you knew the Lannister men had run out of. “Usually orders from paying men are the only reasons women find any pleasure in each other. Most beyond that have no interest in it beyond satisfying the ome giving the gold. It’s your interest in them that the girls find intimidating.” 

Her coy but seductive gaze simmered down into one full of thought. Whatever she had been searching for in watching you earlier, had just deepened how hard she would have to look. “And what about you little one? How do you find me?” 

Your answer was as honest as you had been the entire conversation, and you think that honesty surprises her. “Intriguing. I find you intriguing.” 

Her hand that had traced a path on your cheek moved to run down the length of your hair, pulling a strand to her and laying it rest on your chest. Her hand kept its gentle grasp on the strands as it remained laying on you. “I expected someone as gentle and sweet looking as yourself, to be much more shy and timid. Especially with no experience with another woman.” 

Your hand reached to lightly grasp onto hers, your seductive role had begun finding its end. A much more genuine curiosity though, remained in its absence. “Maybe that’s normal for most girls like me. Afterall men who want me for such gentleness, usually want me quiet and meek to go along with it.”

Both your touches on the other remained, unmoving but not at all eager to let go. “Are you?” 

Softly you smiled, hoping the twinge of rushing emotion was held back, that the conflict you felt within didn’t show in your face. “Maybe if I were better at my job right now I would pretend to be.” 

This time when her head leaned back into yours, you didn’t follow in. The coy flirty games no longer feeling right here. This woman seemed to almost enjoy you being more genuine, but you didn’t understand why. Her hand moving back to your hair, grazing it with her fingers as her palm slipped over to lightly cup your cheek through her hold on your hair. “I prefer smart and honest over dumb and loose. What is your name, smart girl?” 

Lurching in your stomach felt so strong it almost jerked your entire body. Your real name almost bursted out of its own accord, but you forced it down. Sealing it inside you where it belonged. So told her a name, the one you had given the Madam of the previous brothel you had been to. The one where this new lie, this fake identity had taken hold. And you asked hers in return. 

Her deep eyes were a trap, so full of life and emotion swirling through the gorgeous colours. Losing your gaze so quickly in their hold, it took you a few seconds to realize that not only had she answered, but that the answer didn’t actually come out of her mouth. 

No, the answer had come from the same deep toned voice from before. A voice you hadn’t even realized was back in the room or even when he had returned. 

“Ellaria Sand. My paramour.” Both your heads turned to see Oberyn approaching. Yellow robes, rich in colour matching that of the sun, and a chain laying down across his chest holding a symbol you could not quite make out. A strong chest leading up to broad shoulders which held themselves high. 

A confidence radiated from him, but also seemed to also withhold some tension. A steeled gaze as he watches you detach your grasp from Ellaria completely. “Prince Oberyn, forgive me I was simply apologizing to the lady for such an unpleasant greeting upon your arrival.” 

Oberyn Martell was a difficult man to read, while his face seemed to look impassive as he spoke, his eyes very much felt like his companions had. Deep, thoughtful and seemingly trying to figure something out which you did not know. “What unpleasantness?” 

Beside you, Ellaria could be heard chuckling as Oberyn gestured to the table you stood by, “A small amount of Lannister blood spilt is nothing to feel upset about, quite the opposite in fact.”

A challenging look, eyebrows raised as he seemed to wait for your response. Gauging how such a comment would make you feel. You were in a land ruled by Lannisters, afterall. “I simply meant that it is my apologies that such a confrontation even occurred.” 

You were tight, formal, polite borderlining on controlled, not quite what a regular working girl in a brothel would concern herself with, and it seems both saw right through it. Oberyn’s chuckle matched that of his lover. “I told her when one is around you long enough, it’s something you get used to.” 

Their eyes spoke another language to each other, while their words said otherwise. Both had moved to you rather than returning to the others arms. Ellaria simply being closer, getting there first, this time her hand giving a deliberate show of finding a home in the strands of your hair.  Oberyn mocking a betrayed gasp, “Already discussing her opinion about me?”

Her smooth hand found the bottom of your chin, bumping it up to look at her face with little force. “Or just warning her of your antics,” Her own eyes moving from that of her lovers, to a softened but introspective look watching your own face. “This one’s different, aren’t you little one?”

“You are the guest, there’s no need to flatter me. I’m the one who should be buttering you up to sway you to buy my own services.” 

Ellaria’s grasp on you suddenly passed over to that of the Prince. His hold on you, quite different. Having his eyes on yours is just as appealing, but somehow holding an intensity toy had never experienced before. “It is not flattery if it is true, no?” 

You opened your mouth, expression turning to the side as if to hide from his gaze, but he interrupted whatever your inevitable denial would be. “I sense there is a complicated mind behind all of this,” his hand moved to cup the side of your styled hair up in the air. “What's your name?” 

Unlike Ellaria, telling Oberyn your made up name seemed to be the wrong answer. Brows furrowed with Oberyn's squint as he looked at you more closely. Saying your name out loud, as if to test whether or not it matched what stood in front of him. For now, it seemed to pass.

Oberyn moved around you, keeping his eyes trained, never leaving yours as he stood behind Ellaria, pulling her back into his chest, mouth finding her ear, “Tell me what you are thinking, my love.” 

Like an attracted magnet, her arms reached to return his embrace, their eyes watching yours with thoughts you were not privy to. “I think you, my dear, are far more interesting than any of the mindless girls we were shown before.” 

You shook your head, but one of her arms pulled you close, as if to bring you into her own arms. “I wouldn’t be so quick to turn them away, the girls and men here are all quite beautiful-” 

Ellaria’s smile was honest but also a tad coy as she pulled you the rest of the way to stand in her personal space, her arm moving to trace down your neck and collarbones, the other still firmly in Oberyn's grasp. “Every brothel has beautiful people, that's not much of a selling point. You though, your interesting, and that’s far more unique. And like he said, my name is Ellaria, not my lady."

Footsteps approached the room as Olyvar returned. He spoke, but kept his gaze curious onto the scene in front of him rather than looking directly at the Oberyn as he spoke. “My apologies for the delay,” He seemed to slow his words as he spoke, as if trying to figure out what he was watching. “I have had all the necessary arrangements made for both of your stays, if you woul-” 

Oberyn’s voice commanded out, like Ellaria, watching you while speaking to another. “I appreciate your efforts, but our plans have changed.” He said your name, and finally turned to look at Olyvar, “I presume she has other work, but I would request her company be made available to myself and Ellaria during our stay.” 

Your surprise matched Olyvars. “That can be arranged, but we do have a wide variety of quite experienced girls and boys to match either of your needs.” It wasn’t meant to be insulting, you understood Olyvar’s intention. You were still new here, more soft and quiet then other girls and he likely assumed the appetite of Prince Oberyn and Ellaria would require more than what he presumed you could provide. But you still felt it, the attention so dedicated to you leaving you feel, warm. Almost like a tingle of curious excitement. 

Oberyn moved from Ellaria to you, his hands grazing over her body as he stepped in front of you directly. “That won’t be necessary, my paramour and I have all we need right here don’t we?” 

Ever in sync, Ellaria now moved to hold onto Oberyn's back as he did hers. “More than enough.” Turning to face Olyvar, “She will need some of her things moved into where we are staying. I have a feeling she will be spending quite a bit of her time,” Ellaria looking back at you, her tone shifting to sound almost amused. “Entertaining the two of us, won’t you, little one?” 

You and Olyvar looked at each other for a moment, neither of you finding suspicion or any kind of uncertainty in the other. It seems the Dornish couple’s decisions have taken both of you by surprise. So he nodded, calling your name. “I will have some of your necessities moved to their room, if that is alright with you.” 

At least Olyvar also was for hire here, so he understood the rareness of being exclusively asked for by two people for an unspecified number of days, let alone when one of them is a Prince. Both of you knew Little Finger would have simply demanded it regardless of your comfort. You knew you were okay with this arrangement, but you appreciated a small check of your concern from him. So you nodded in affirmation to him, before looking back to the man in front of you. “Who am I to deny a Prince of what he asks of me?” 

He chuckled, his hand trailing down your side almost innocently, before moving to push the small of your back into Ellaria. “Show her the way, my love. We have a very exciting few days ahead of us, I imagine.” 

Guided by Ellaria’s touch, more smooth and warm than the intense watchful eyes of her companion following behind. Ellaria’s arms wrapped around yours as she walked, telling you of the Dornish amenities they have brought with them, boasting of how much better quality wine and food are from Dorne than the drab and somewhat tasteless food this city can provide. The entire time, Oberyn was watching. Tickling the back of your mind the spark of doubt you had been feeling as of late. The prick of anxiety that if Oberyn didn’t seem to know who you are now, he would take great time and lengths to figure it out. 

While you recognized the room they were staying in, you simply hadn’t spent much time in it. It's large, with one large bed with silky sheets and plush pillows strayed about it, deep maroons, purples, and shades of blue matching the drapes on the windows, giving it an air of dark privacy that other rooms did not normally have. It wasn’t unknown for the more wealthy of clients to be able to afford longer stays. Usually men of high houses who didn’t want to be kept in the stuffy air and watchful eyes of the Red Keep. 

You knew the brothel itself held more than one person acting as spies for the various players in the city, but you assumed it was a safer gamble to bet on for a Martell than to stay in the Red Keep where almost every person inside watches some and reports to others. 

There hadn’t been a guest like that in the few months you had been here, but you never expected any stay you’d have in it would be with an unbelievably beautiful woman and a Prince as her companion. Some of their things already finding a home amongst the room, you wonder how early in the day they had arrived. Clearly keeping a quiet profile at first, you had been awake since the sun had also awoken, and you never saw or heard of their arrival. That is, until the draw of confronting a Lannister drew the Viper from his Den. 

While Oberyn spoke, it was Ellaria who kept an arm linked with yours, bringing you around the room with her, the other arm slinked behind your back to hold your waist as she directed you. “You are welcome to anything in this room that we also have, you are not being bought as a prisoner to us, you are free to do whatever you like. As long as it is our company that you return to, instead of whatever spoiled men tries to throw his money at you.” 

Ellaria chuckled in your ear, turning your body to face the Prince as she wraps her own body around the back of yours, “He is either quite brave or quite foolish to speak about your own city men in such a way.” You could not see hers, but by the way Oberyn's own eyes glint at her with a mock offence drenched in a playful familiarity, you begin to assume she is the only one who has the bravery and freedom to tease him so openly. 

“I see right through your games.” His chuckle fades into the sounds of his footsteps as he approaches. While Ellaria keeps a hold on your waist, Oberyn's own hand traces circles around your hip, before leaning into your shoulder blade to find her face. “Were she not trying to impress you, my beautiful paramour would have no qualms about telling me about how utterly foolish she thinks I am.” 

While their own lips met, Ellaria’s hold on you tightened, and Oberyn's hand found a grip on your hip, the other cupping the side of your face. Separating after just a quick kiss, Oberyn tilted his head so his lips were at your ear. “You are a smart girl though, little one. If you think me foolish I expect you to come to that conclusion on your own, not by the tempting words of a manipulative woman.” 

Ellaria responds by pulling you from his hold entirely, the hands on your waist, now across your torso and stomach keeping you away. “If I am the manipulative one, then what does that make you?” Leaning her lips onto the top of your head, she almost started to laugh with her words, “Oberyn is the one who demanded all of your time to himself, I would have asked before making such a request.” 

Both laughed together, as your mind started to wander. You needed to remind yourself what you were here for, what they are buying you for. It had been so easy to lose yourself in their gentle touches and laughter, but they bought you for a reason. 

Your eyes casting back and forth between them, before moving your hands to slip off the light and translucent fabric over your shoulders and down your arms, a pounding heartbeat conflicting with your mind telling you this is all you’re here to be. It didn’t get far, Ellaria’s hands slid to your arms, pulling the fabric back up in place as her smooth palms trail over your skin. 

Oberyn stepped forward, to catch your hands, holding them in the air with an eyebrow raised, waiting for you to begin lowering your arms back down to relax before he let you go. Ellaria’s hold behind you became less possessive and playful, finding a new hold on you around your shoulders with one palm still pressed against the crease between your dress and shoulder. Oberyn tilted your head up to look at him. “I appreciate the eagerness, but this is not why we brought you here.” 

The conflict in your mind started to feel silenced as the pounding of your heart grew louder and faster. “You mean, you’re not interested in-” 

Fingers tracing over your cheeks, his eyes cast down to follow the path he made, the air of play in his presence giving way to something more inward and thought filled. “Oh we are, sweet girl I assure you. That is not the problem.” 

Ellaria was the one to finish his thought process. “We want to spend time with you, for you to spend time with us, talking, laughing, getting to know our little world here more than just what happens between those sheets.” 

Finally her body moves from yours, giving you the physical space to accompany your thoughts. “Why me though? Why choose me out of all the-” 

Oberyn’s voice smaller, less demanding of attention to its tone, lowering down to a much calmer, more personable level. “They are all beautiful and eager to serve, yes. But you are interesting. You fascinate not just me, but Ellaria as well.” His hand finally cups the side of your face entirely, thumb only stroking back and forth lightly as he finds your eyes. “It’s rare to find someone who fascinates both of us so deeply. I requested all of your time, because I want the time and freedom to discover why.” 

It tempted you in a way more than anyone else had ever tempted you in the year and a half you had been this new person. It had been even longer, since anyone had shown you such decency and interest as you as a human being. Maybe it was going to be a mistake, allowing yourself to get attached to two people who inevitably were going to go back to their home and their lives without once this celebration is over. Oberyn voiced one last draw to the offer. “There is nothing we will ask of you in your time with us, other than giving us the chance to strip all of this away.” He gestured around the room, gesturing to the kind of building you were in and what you were supposed to be. 

He tapped the side of your head with his other hand. “What’s in here is far more endearing than what is expected of you.” 

Ellaria was sat on the edge of the bed now, palms braced behind her as she watched closely, watching for the signs of hesitancy or even discomfort that Oberyn may have missed standing so close. “Anything physical with us is incidental. We don’t want you to feel pressured into performing simply because you are normally paid to fuck us. If you want to, it needs to be because you want us. Not because you think you should.” 

Chest rising up and down with an audible deep breath, your mind outweighing the cons of how alone you will be back to existing once they leave, with the pros of how genuine they were speaking. So just maybe, you chose the wrong decision. You nodded. 

Oberyn’s grip on your face pulled you back to look his way. “Outloud. If you are truly okay with this, I need you to tell us. Tell me. Outloud.” 

Doubling down on the bad decisions, that's what you knew you were about to do, and yet, you did it anyway. You jumped into the freezing water with little knowledge of how you were going to swim to the surface. Your hand reached up and held his, your own thumb finding comfort in swiping back and forth against his own skin. “I would like that.” 

Oberyn smiled, and beyond your eyesight so did Ellaria. The pounding of your heart knocking out all other noises as Oberyn leaned into your face close, only for his lips to press against your other cheek. Finally he moved, pushing the small of your back to a table near the back of the room. “Sit, sit. I will get you a drink, I don’t imagine many men in Kings Landing bother to just allow a beautiful woman the courtesy of enjoying a drink with them like an equal.” 

As he begins pouring, Ellaria joins you at the table, the smile on her face light. Little emotion hidden behind it beyond a genuine content. “We have our own wines. You people have absolutely no taste, so we had Dornish wine brought in specifically.” 

Goblets appear in front of your persons, as Oberyn takes the other seat, leaning back with as much a light casualness as his paramour. You tried to match, trying to feel alright with just being yourself here, but you needed time, and you had a feeling neither would rush you into it. 

Oberyn watches you take your first sip, and his next words have a smile attached to them as he watches your surprised expression before eagerly taking another sip. “We have some food, our true delicacies don’t travel as well, but we certainly have enough to prove that the people in the capitol have absolutely no taste buds.” 

You laugh at yourself, as Ellaria comes to your defence “Careful lover, you keep that attitude up and our little bird may start feeling offended that you’re just insulting her home.”  

Oberyn found your eyes again, that squinting analytical expression returning. As if he is once again challenging what your response may be, and you still, aren’t quite sure as to why. But you give an answer that is as honest as you can compose. “I’ve only been here a few months, the food where I was born wasn't much better than here.” 

Oberyn leaned back in his seat, watching you with those challenging eyes “And where would that be?”  He says your name in a question as well, as if your identity was a part of it. 

So you just smirked into your goblet, “If I gave everything away right away, there wouldn’t be any mystery to uncover would there?” 

Ellaria chuckled beside you as she tells you she agreed. Oberyn watches for a moment, “All in good time. I have all the time I need to unravel such a mystery.” He takes another sip of his own drink, before the conversation flows in a different direction. Giving you the time to relax more into getting used to them as the hours of the afternoon begin to tick away. 

With the wedding rapidly approaching, it seemed more people grew tense rather than having the growing excitement of a celebration. Perhaps it was due to the unfavourable attitude King Joffery was so infamous for, perhaps it was the growing frustration of having so much nobility all in one place trying to buy favours with the crown, but you suspected otherwise. 

It was easy at first, hardly feeling like work. Oberyn and Ellaria were fascinating people with rich and wild lives, yet they also found tons of entertainment in the small, almost domestic stories you had to offer. Like the difference in scale of your lives actually made for a complimentary contrast, as opposed to highborns looking down on you for not living like they do. 

Oberyn especially captured your keen eye, a man who holds himself so differently than both men here, and from your own home. He was unashamed of his honestly, and didn’t yield it like a weapon. Sure, there were darker aspects about him that shine through his sheer intensity, but you never got the sense that what he was presenting you with, was anyone other than his real self. He’s not just an act to play with those around him. 

The downside was that he was also interested in pulling that real side out of you. Seeing hints of a much more reserved but polite version of what you should put out to other clients. The first time seeing the Prince without much in the way of clothes on, your guard had been so let down that your instant response was to turn and apologize immediately. 

His deep chuckle only added to the embarrassment flooding your body. “While I appreciate the respect for my privacy, there’s nothing here to hide, I assure you.” 

Slowly turning around, a small smile forming on your face was currently covered up poorly by your fingers casually resting on your mouth almost as cover. I-Shock and embarrassment probably isn’t the reaction you’re used to when getting walked in on, I imagine.” 

As you start to walk into the room proper, you could see Ellaria where she sat clearly trying not to laugh solely at Oberyn's expense. Not fooled for a moment, the two shared a playful glare as he passed her by. Pants on, but not fully done up, giving you a teasing glint of skin and coarse hair if you looked lewdly down further. His broad size and penetrating gaze though, kept your attention. 

“Embarrassed because I’m nothing like what you were expecting compared to your usuals, or shocked because I am?” He was broad and clearly strong, sure. His shoulders and arms radiated strength, but his chest and stomach were much less showy. Scars and faded marks are etched into his skin, and his stomach softer almost like a normal man not trying to show off.

Your hand reached out to trace one scar which caught your eye, and trailed down to the softer skin below. An innocent touch of curiosity, instead of a teasing path with a more direct destination in mind. “It’s just..nice.” His eyebrows raised in curiosity as you continued. “For someone everybody talks about being a feared warrior or an intimidating force, it’s just nice to know that while handsome, you still look like most normal men.” 

Oberyn grasps your hand in his, while his eyes watch yours, he slides your hand down just a smidge. Your fingers touch the very edge of his pants, threatening to dip them inside, before suddenly moving it the opposite way. Up in the air until he could kiss your hand, then pulled you alongside him to where he previously stood. 

Gently helping assemble his clothes should have felt like simple servant work. Oberyn though, would softly take over your task so you could move onto the next part, working in tandem. Almost feeling domestic of sorts. 

As he turns to face you, you look over him to make sure everything is in place, as your palms smooth down his chest to ensure his robe sits cleanly. All you did was compliment him, saying how well the colours match him. 

Oberyn threading through strands of your hair as he looks over your own dress in the same fashion. Rich and low he smiles slightly as his fingers holding your hair also trace your cheek. “One day we’ll get you clothes that look more like ours. Dorne would suit you much more than this place I'm sure.” 

You brushed it off. You loved the whites, and yellows, and oranges both of them were draped in compared to the dark and muted tones so common here and further North. He didn’t mean anything more than wondering what you’d look like in them was all it was. 

Eventually each night ticked closer to the day of the wedding, but you still found yourself crawling away from the warmth radiating from the couple. You had a welcome place in bed with them, and they were happy to pull you into their arms like they do each other, but once they were asleep you always slid over to be alone. They were kind, but sleeping in such an affectionate and intimate way with two people who would always have each other, and eventually forget you, kept your mind awake to wander until it inevitably got you out of bed to stand alone in thought. 

The lesson you learned the quickest since arriving in King's Landing, was that most of the major players here had a wide reach of eyes and influence. It seemed every other person was some kind of watchful spy for someone else, and the growing whispers passing around gave you the sense of plotting. Like the different persons being reported to all had their own plans setting into place around such a major event. Workers in the brothel always seemed to either be writing something in secret, or scurrying off at odd hours of the day to report to somebody else. 

You were pretty sure you had figured out who reported to who though, some were more obvious spies then others, but then again, a house of whores was not known for their subtlety and subterfuge.

The growing wound at the back of your head seemed to fester more every day, the anxiety of why you were brought here. A paralyzing, sleep disruptive fear that Little Finger had brought you here for a reason, and left you working and waiting until his use for you finally reached its need. If he knew who you were, then someone must have been watching you since you had at least been hiding in The Riverlands.

Too many voices floating around in your head to stay asleep. If he knew, did one of his own spies in this very building have eyes on you right now, did they know why they watched you or were they just told to do as he says? 

Push it down, you thought to yourself. Focusing on this was a bad idea, the anxiety would only spread if you did. Instead your gaze remained out the window, as your mind tried to focus on watching the tiny but of morning sun reach the cramped and filthy streets below it. You knew you were being watched at this very moment, but you were fairly certain there were no malicious intents from the watcher this time. 

Ellaria had a warm presence as she found her way next to you. Both in body, the heat from the warm Dorne sun must be trapped under her very skin, as the air beside you felt warm as she approached. Also though, in her very person. Her radiance was calm, unrushed, and almost cozy, as if the happenings around her did little to even attract her attention. 

Her voice, muttered quietly in the early hours of the morning, felt just as calm. “If sleeping in the same bed that me and Oberyn keeps making you uncomfortable-” 

Your head shook as you interrupted her. “No, no, please. You’re the guests. This is a brothel and you are lovers in a bed that you paid for. What you choose to do in it has nothing to do with me being comfortable.” 

You couldn’t see if her eyes were on you or if they were watching the same drab view of the city as you were. “Does it?” That made you turn to her first, her gaze only moving to yours as you turned to face her first. “Make you uncomfortable?” 

Her sharp features felt somehow soft as she watched you, eyes searching for an answer, not judging, but in a curious sense. They were intense though, consuming your focus like looking at her for too long would cause you to get lost, so you turned your head abruptly. Taking a deep breath as you pulled the thin shawl over your shoulders more. “Uncomfortable is the wrong word. I’m..not quite sure what it is. Being so close to your and Oberyn’s intense little world. As if knowing you are sharing this part of yourselves with me is a strange feeling. I don’t know. Real intimacy is just, it’s strange to me I guess. That’s all.” 

Ellaria knew that was not quite as honest an answer as she wanted to hear, but it was early. Not just in hours, but in your time together. Ellaria preferred to patiently wait outside of the gates, giving you the time you need to make your way down the steps to unlock them. She wants to know you in many ways, but parts of you were closed off, and she was happy to take her time making her way past that. 

Sparing a moment to turn her head, Ellaria watched her lover still laying out underthe sheets. One of the few times his intensity was nowhere to be found. Glancing back at you though, Ellaria knew Oberyn’s approach was not quite the same. Oberyn was smart, and cunning but his nature was much more aggressive. She knew what he was feeling when he declined the other offers in favour of you. So many years together they could communicate through very little, so he knew they felt the same thing. But then that brash, bold nature of his suddenly bought out your entire company for their stay rather than letting her join in on the prospects the pair had already started to seek out amongst the other workers. 

She knew Oberyn well enough to tell that there was something else in his mind about you. Ellaria was more direct and simple. You were beautiful, you looked at her and spoke to her in such a genuine way she had not seen from girls in places like this, there was something about who you were behind the sultry dress and the painted features trying to force you to look just like all the other average pretty whores in here. Who you were on the inside was far more fascinating to Ellaria than the dozens of the small staured, pale girls with the same kind of boring pretty faces willing to do whatever she wanted for the money she offered. 

She had been lost in thought for longer then she suspected, your continued solemn silence feeling more anxious than calming. “That still doesn’t explain why you are wide awake long before anyone else in this building has even opened their eyes.”

Her voice was far away. Were you not close enough to see her long curls loose and flowing, or the beautiful almost pastel colour of the robe she had slipped on, you would have thought there were mountains between you. “I don’t sleep well. Never have.” 

You spared a glance at her, those curious eyes now deep and almost with concern, as if that small response had found something upsetting within her. You couldn’t afford that though, not today. It was too busy today, and too many people in the city to watch all at the same time. You didn’t want Ellaria and Oberyn to be watched for simply being concerned for the feelings of a meaningless whore they hired, whatever you were being watched for, you didn’t want them to be watched for it as well. 

You finally turned your body to her, a small on your face not reaching your eyes, as you gently pushed her back towards the lush bed. “You should get some more rest while you can, you’ll want as much time as you can to get ready.” 

Before her legs could touch the sheets, she turned back to you, cupping the side of your face with a smirk “Why is that? Because all of these highborn women will expect me to spend the kinds of hours on my look as they do theirs?” 

A real laugh finally came out of you, quiet and soft, but genuine, Playfully shoving her hand off of your face you turned her around to the bed, slipping the silky robe off of her once more. “Please you could walk into this wedding right now and look better than any other woman there.” 

Finally you turned to gather some of your own things, ready to take a few moments to wash away the anxiety trapped in your skin before anyone else woke up. “Getting ready is just to prepare yourself for an entire day of dull and uptight Lords all trying to look and act the most impressive.” 

Ellaria laughed as she found her way onto the sheets, making your way to step out. You assuree her once more before slipping quietly out the door. “Trust me, there’s nothing more boring than listening to the Lords and men of the Crownlands all try to pretend they are the most successful House.” 

Just as you shut the door, quiet as possible to not to wake the still sleeping Prince, Oberyn had quietly shifted enough to sit upright, pulling Ellaria up against his chest. Her arm reached up behind her to find a home behind his neck, “I’ve never met someone who works in a place like this honestly confess that she doesn’t understand intimacy.” 

Oberyn, tracing the skin of her stomach he also nudged at the side of her neck to make a spot for himself, began to trace a path on her neck with the tip of his nose before following that same path back down with gentle presses of his lips. “It’s not that she doesn’t understand intimacy, I think she just has genuinely never experienced it.” 

Ellaria’s free hand rested on the forearm across her, caressing the skin as she watched the closed door. “So, what a quiet little poor girl growing up in the Riverlands just decides to sell her body for money, something she is not comfortable with, over any of the other things she could have succeeded as?” 

She didn’t know what kind of things were going through Oberyn's mind, but she suspects he seems to know something she doesn’t. He'll tell her on the way today no doubt, but his answer makes that suspension almost certain. “Her accent is Northern. Or at least, she's trying not to sound like she is. Nothing like the daughter of a Maidenpool fisherman.”

Oberyn moved his lips to the top of her head, pulling her closer into his chest, wanting to lull her back to sleep. “She’s used to telling that lie to brainless men only half listening to her long enough to get her clothes off. Usually they aren’t there long enough to care."

Turning more into his chest, Ellaria felt the pulls of sleep draw her back in. “Why lie to us though? Why not tell the truth when she knows we want to hear it?” 

Oberyn was now much more awake than his paramour, it was going to be an eventful day afterall, and now he was adding a tactful plan to broach the subject to his list of ongoing affairs in this wretched city. Watching Ellaria’s eyes slip shut, breathing softening as she let sleep bring her under once more before his eyes darkened. Watching the door for how long you would take to return. “People only lie about being so unimportant when they are trying to hide, and to her? Kings Landing is the worst place to start telling the truth.” 

He got no response, keeping her in his arms, feeling the rise and fall of her chest move with his, but his eyes still watching the door. As if the solution would come right through it. This early wasn't the time to start. He had been awake when he noticed you slip out of the bed, covering yourself up from a cold that did not exist, trying to hide in the material as if it would protect you from whatever you were looking for in the streets. 

He would think it through more. A better plan laid out more carefully, Oberyn needed to make sure he did not scare you off before he could settle you. You would take your time getting ready for the day, and then begin to assist reading he and Ellaria for the wedding. You would not come yourself in any way, he already knew that. Ellaria likely would make a plea for her to be your escort as Oberyn is hers. He had already seen on a previous day another girl, Kayla, begged you to join her as she made a performance at the reception, even just to watch but you had adamantly refused. 

Oberyn knows you would not risk being so out in the open around that many key figures. For you, that would be too risky. He would though, selfishly he knew, request you not take any of the scattered clientele that may make their way in during the day. Getting you to open up to them would not be made any easier by the constant onslaught of being poorly fucked by the uncaring brutes slinking through these doors.

What he did not plan for, was the events of the wedding itself. The events of the wedding would, in fact, drastically alter any of the set plots in motion for the people of King's Landing.

Your plans for the day had actually been quite simple. You took some time to yourself, walking through a market with more ease than there would be on a normal day. No doubt people all over were flocking to the Red Keep trying to get a glimpse of the ceremony, catching what small glimpses of the royals that they could. 

You had never attended a wedding, but nothing about it seemed particularly endearing. Maybe part of it was you never quite felt comfortable in large crowds, but watching two people become bonded under the eyes of the Seven wasn’t really what you would call entertainment, and the reception didn’t seem better. Too much drinking, too much posturing to the married Lord and Lady to look impressive, and you didn’t even want to think about the bedding ceremony. 

You figure someone such a the King, especially one with the attitude of Joffrey, likely wouldn’t allow that for himself, even though you had heard some pretty nasty rumours that he tried to force his own Uncle into it. For brief moments your mind wandered to Sansa Stark. She would never know it, but you and her seemed to have some things in common. Two women finding themselves trapped from ever going home, stuck in King's Landing to just be used as pawns for whatever games the biggest players had in mind for you. Though you’re not quite sure who got the worst end of the bargain.

Most of the regulars in both brothels you had worked in were content with what they did, but selling yourself for money was supposed to just be something to hide you until you got yourself together, figured out a better place to go, how to get there, who to be when you arrived. But you were stuck, being able to only make just enough gold to pay your dues, not enough to buy a new life. Then they arrived, men with swords claiming to work for House Baelish, and now you were here. 

Walking through the streets of Kings Landing, living life on a cliffs edge wondering how long it will take before someone figures out who you are, and what they would do with that information. At least all of the Lord’s were at the royal wedding, at last you had that few hours to look through the market in quiet peace. 

Wedding festivities are long, typically beginning in the warm afternoon and only coming to a close in the hours of the night when the wine ran dry. There weren’t many clients in the building, a few girls gone to accompany Kayla in her performance. No doubt bringing back a number of men looking to take advantage of her unique talents and whomever else they could throw their gold at. 

But that’s not what happened. In fact, Kayla arrived back soon after her performance, rushing into the door in a total state. Horrified eyes wide open, panting so hard you thought she may faint. And a rushed, frantic tale, of a dead King. 

We all gathered around her, listening to her talk about these, rather unfunny sounding skits making fun of the dead Starks that had won them the war, Joffrey in an unusual state of cruelty as he publicly humiliated Lord Tyrion for the entire crowd to watch. The tears came back, two of the other girls rushing to Kayla’s side, simply trying to calm her down enough to speak through the shock. Then she tells of the King drinking from his wine, and choking on it. Falling to the ground as Lady Cersei rushed to his side as, from what Kayla had claimed, his skin turned purple and bled from his face before everything stopped. 

Cersei having ordered the guards take Tyrion away for the crime, on what basis you weren’t sure, Kayla was too upset. She was brought to a private room to calm down after that, and everyone broke up. Clients leaving to confirm the tale, and little groups whispering about the horrors just heard. 

You and Olyvar were left standing alone in the main room. There was an air between you two, like an electric charge sparkling between you, but in a doubt. You both looked at each other for some moments, eyes far away and trying to put the pieces together, but both of you were unsure of how to say it. You took the bait first. “Why would Lord Tyrion want to make the King choke in front of all those people?” 

Olyvar looked at you, and then around the room. Taking a step closer, you leaned in to match as his own voice came out in more of a whisper. “The man is bold, but not stupid. Public murder doesn’t seem like quite his taste.” 

There was something neither of you were saying, something neither of you were quite brave enough to risk in front of the other. “What has Lord Baelish been so busy with, Olyvar?” 

His head tilted, eyes narrowing at the question, but answered regardless. “He's been busy preparing for an extended trip out of the city.” 

You didn’t move a muscle as you spoke, as if moving too quickly would spook him from this dangerous path you two were on. “Did he say where to or why?” 

He didn’t move either. “No. I tell him everything, he tells me very little, and in return I get to run his business for not asking why.” 

Both of you knew neither was going to say it, or ask it. It didn’t add up exactly, but there were enough questions between you two that a seed of doubt was still there. Would he risk all of his other agenda’s for it? You didn’t know. “Why did he bring me here, Olyvar?” 

He didn’t answer, but his silence was an answer itself. You raised your chin, chest rising with a deep breath before nodding. Your face turning impassive and small as if your head could shake the doubt out of existence. “I will need one of the girls to join me in preparing food for the evening. I won’t presume our usual outside assistance will be available as usual.” 

Olyvar’s face matched you. Impassive and forcing a professional appearance. “I’ll get one of the younger ones to help you. The King was close to their age, I imagine they could use the distraction.” 

Turning to leave, you both had only made it a number of steps before you called his name out. “Since their arrival, how much have you told to Lord Baelish?” You weren’t mad about it, spying was just a part of his life now. He spies on others, and you, and in return he gets the freedom to run Baelish’s brothel instead of taking orders all day. 

His answer though, surprised you. He gaze cast downwards, looking almost sheepish, unsure of himself. Sighing and looking up to you again, a kind fondness for this strange friendship between you two. “Not as much as I’m supposed to.” 

Hearing approaching steps, a soft smile formed on your lips. Olyvar gave one in return before nodding as he left the room. Maybe you should be angry knowing he is spying on you, knowing that Little Finger is holding your identity hostage as he figured out what to do with you. But you can’t blame Olyvar for that, he had shown you nothing but kindness, both in kinship but also in a degree of silence. 

He could have told him the extent to which you had been spending time with Oberyn Martell and his paramour, telling Baelish how suspicious it was that all the Dornish Prince had asked of you was company instead of sex. You’re not sure why he wouldn’t just tell him that, or how that knowledge figured into Baelish’s plan, but with the murder of the King, all you knew is that something was brewing in the distance. 

Ellaria was the first one back, you were already in their room when she arrived. Everyone was in such a strange variety of emotions, that honestly you couldn’t handle it. You were tidying up, sweeping, cleaning dust, making sure all the sheets were fresh. Monotonous work that could distract you enough until the door opened. 

If you were completely honest, you did briefly forget that she was at a wedding where a teenage boy choke to death. You had seen her off, helped her get ready, but enough hours had passed that you forgot the beauty. Her dress was long, down to her legs, covering her arms but the torso left open, shrinking in size until reaching her navel. An almost gold tinted chest covering underneath but showing off the smooth skin underneath. 

Quickly you regained your senses, placing the folded sheets to be washed down onto the ground as you rushed to her. She met you halfway, both catching the other in your arms as you looked her over much closer now, “I heard what happened, the King,” you stammered off looking her over as if she were the one in danger before slowing down. Your hands raised to hold the sides of her now much more solemn face. “Are you alright, you would have been right there,” 

Ellaria raised her own hands to hold onto yours, moving one off of her and bringing your hand in for a kiss, keeping it tucked against the exposed skin of her chest. “I am perfectly fine, I promise.” 

You nodded, worry in your eyes starting to fade a bit, as you ushered her over to a plush seat near the window. “Sit, please.”

Continuing to flutter around her you moved your broom and cloth out of view into a small alcove where some shelves just large enough to fit such supplies sat hidden from client view. 

“Wait, what about,” You looked towards the door, shut firmly and silent behind it as you made your way around to her. “Where’s Oberyn?” Ellaria grabbed your wrist, gently pulling you enough to look at her with a small shush. Though you implored her to sit back down, you didn’t remove her hand on you. 

“He is perfectly fine. He sent me back as he stayed behind to..watch things.” Looking off towards nowhere, her attention moved far off, “It was quite an awful scene.” You cupped her cheek to look at you, as you knelt down just enough to look her closer in the eye. “The Lannisters were in quite a state,” looking you in the eye she relaxed a bit more. “Oberyn didn’t want me anywhere near their wrath, Lady Cersei herself was rather angry and hysterical. Losing her child like that." 

You nodded, before sliding behind her. A hand stroking over the skin of her neck as you began to undo the beautiful, ornate headcovering, which you were pretty sure matched her chest covering. You took your time, making sure you didn’t snag a strand of her thick curls in with the metal. “I can only imagine. Kayla was..very distraught when she returned. We could only just get her to calm down enough to tell us he choked.” 

Ellaria grabbed a hand of yours, pulling it away from her hair as she held it closer to her heart. Both of hers holding it closely, “I knew nothing about the King, I mean I know they say about him, but I had never spoken to him. But he was just a boy. A child. Maybe just a few years older than my oldest girl.” Her voice was far once more. 

The other hand, finishing your work and gently lifting the headwear off to lay gently on a table, you leaned in. Wrapping your own free arm around her front as you lay your head against the side of hers. “Tell me about her.” 

That got her to smile. She needed a distraction, not to think about what she saw, how close in age he was to her daughter. So getting her to tell you about her may help. “Well she belongs to Oberyn that’s for sure.” Ellaria even let out a soft breath of a laugh. “Stubborn. Such a stubborn girl. Always trying to get away with as much as possible, but she has such a soft heart under it all. I think it’s just hard for her to remember it sometimes.” 

She pulled you over to her front, moving to sit you down with her. Straddling her legs so you could make sure to move her gaze onto you. “Why is that?” 

Ellaria sighed. Raking a hand through your hair as she spoke. “She’d probably be able to settle more if she wasn’t still pining for her father’s attention. We named her Elia, after his sister.” 

She watched you for a second, your brows furrowing as you nodded before catching her loose hand to hold in her lap. Assuming she was looking to see if you understood what that meant, she seemed to get that you knew what she was inferring too. Since his arrival in Kings Landing Oberyn had not brought it up once, and you wouldn’t either. That’s a kind of heartbreak that you never quite get over. 

Ellaria at least, seemed to relax under your person a bit more. “Oberyn is a great father not even she would contest that, but I think the older Elia gets, the more of his sister he sees in her. It’s painful. To look at your daughter and be reminded of losing someone you loved so horrifically. It’s put some distance between them, Oberyn doesn’t want his hurt and anger to be taken out on her but it also means Elia wants to try that much harder to pull him back.” 

It was nicer now, both of you close, just holding the other as she opened up to you. This kind of vulnerability wasn’t something you had gotten in many years. “If she’s as much like him as you say, then at least you know she will never just give up on him. She’ll always try to mend that gap.” 

Nodding, Ellaria tried to loosen her hair up a bit from the tight hold it struggled to let go of. She leaned up into you close, “I think I’d like to get all of this off me if you would be so kind.” Bending her head towards the orange dress on her. 

Both of you standing up, you held onto her hips and leaned close to her own mouth. “Lucky for you that’s exactly what I’m paid to be good at.” 

The pair of you laughed, but Ellaria leaned in, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke. “Don’t tempt me, little one. I’ve worked very hard to get to know what's in here,” tapping at the side of your head, “before here.” Then moving her hand to brush down your chest, covered by the loose cheer material. 

You smiled at her before moving to help her undress, “I can’t think of a single person I’ve seen come through here that would pay me money, not to fuck them.” 

Helping her into one of her much more loose dresses, the material much more plush and soft then the sleek silk like material before it. She let you fluff her hair up, loosening it so it fell comfortably down her back. “If we wanted to just fuck you and be done with you, we wouldn’t have had to fight so hard to keep you all to ourselves. Oberyn finds your mind just as tempting as whatever these are hiding from us.” She tugs at your dress once more, before you pull away from her. 

The two of you start to settle back into something much more normal but not before Ellaria gives you a specific piece of advice. “I’m not sure what kind of mood Oberyn will be in when he returns. Such an awful thing to watch mixed with spending far more time around the Lannisters than expected may leave him a bit more aggressive when he comes back.” 

From your spot on the bed, you lean up with your palms supporting you, “Do you- should I..give you space, if he is? So you can,” trailing off, Ellaria still understood what you asked. 

She sits next to you and nudges your chin to look at her. “I am warning you, because so far we have kept our distance. Getting to know you this way, instead of making you think you were just another passing whore to us.” 

You tried to ask why, why would you be different from anyone else. But that seems to be a question that only the two of them know the answer to, that silent understanding they have with one another that you weren’t yet privy too. “Oberyn is a good man, but he can also be very impatient. He’s been careful to take his time with you, but when he is pressed, he can only hold off what he wants for so long.” 

“What are you trying to tell me?” 

Ellaria leaned in, not quite as close as before but enough that her breath could be felt on your own skin. “If the only reason you would fuck him or me is because you are getting paid to, then you need to tell us. Neither of us will push for something you do not truly want of your own choice. If we just wanted another body, we would have just paid any of the others in here and moved on.” 

She knew you weren’t going to answer. You didn’t really know the answer yet. So much was in your heart, so many anxieties in your mind. You had also spent more time with Ellaria alone, you know the desire that grew with each interaction, but Oberyn was a much harder read. That silly little girl in you, the part of you that was supposed to stay hidden, kept telling you that you wanted to spend time with just him. Saying that you needed to spend more time alone with him as if you were still a young girl with a crush.

Conflicting with the other part of you. This fake name, this unreal identity that grew up in Maidenpool and worked in brothels because sex was just another activity to you. Oberyn wasn’t supposed to care about who you are, he was here to fuck you while he stayed in the city then leave you forever. You shouldn’t want to spend more time with him.

Standing up you found yourself moving pour yourself some wine, as if you could simply drown that stupid girl inside of you down with the taste. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you both will move on at some point regardless.” Your swallow was audible, loud and painful. It would take closer to drinking the entire jug to drown this out apparently. 

You didn’t turn to face her as she spoke, you couldn’t. Not right now. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” You shut your eyes. Another sip. Drown it out. Two beautiful people show up, give you a sliver of attention and you attach yourself to them like a lech. You were entertainment to them. That’s all it was. That’s all it could be. Nothing else made sense, you were just a whore in some brothel. 

So you tried again, tried playing the part they wanted. Spinning around to lean against the tale edge as you spoke, glass lifting up to your lips as you spoke. “Well the last time I checked, this city isn’t quite Sunspear is it? Your lives are a long ways away from my own.” 

Ellaria didn’t answer. The door opening that moment, with Oberyn walking through. He was quite calm in fact, nothing like the unnerved distance Ellaria had returned with. You didn’t want to look at him either. You felt embarrassed, so you simply turned away, fussing with the sheets on the bed as they embraced. “You are okay, right? Everything is,” her voice trailing off. No doubt looking him over to ensure everything was in proper place. 

“Everything is fine, don’t worry about me.” His voice was quieter, no doubt pulling her close to him, “And you, my love? Are you okay?” She must have nodded, you weren’t sure. All you could do was fuss with a bed that no doubt would get ruffled again in an instant. “I would have spared you the upset and gone alone had I known it was going to be that ugly.” 

A kiss shared, your grip turned harder. An intimacy, a love you never had, and in this name, never will. Your growing attachment to them feels suffocating. You’re knuckles straining from the grip on whatever you picked up, why did they want to know you? They had each other, they didn’t need to know you this way. Out of all the whores in this brothel, why were you the only one they were interested in, like that? 

Their talk turned to muffles, clearly wanting to keep you out of it. Maybe Olyvar kept your small little room available, you could just return there. Let them play out their desires in peace for the rest of their stay. Your heart pounded in your chest, the suffocating feeling growing tighter and tighter. Everything inside you was so loud that you couldn’t even hear them speak anymore. 

It had been a long time since you had felt this kind of resentment towards this life. You didn’t even have one to go home to, that choice was taken away from you. It was either this now, or the road. At least your childish heart couldn't get attached to people alone out in the open air.

Just as it was too much, just as your heart constricted, refusing to let your lungs breathe, you fell backwards into a deep warmth. Something all encompassing, flooding your body with heat, forcing your heart to go back to normal, the tightness in your chest relaxing. Oberyn’s voice at your ears, the deep bass rich in tone, matching the rich scent always accompanying him. “You can get away with telling Ellaria that you’re fine because she doesn’t like to push people.” One by one your senses regained their ability, the warmth was his broad chest against your back, his hands reached around you, holding your own firmly as he pries your fingers open trying to take the painful strain off of them. “But this,” his palms rubbing over the top of yours, forcing out the tense hold in them as he says your name, “This is not fine. You can’t just stand away from me with tears in your eyes and tell me nothing is wrong.” 

You hadn’t realized you had been crying, you weren’t sure when you started, or what train of thought even forced them out. “It’s- there's nothing to worry about. Let me just finish up he-” 

Oberyn cuts you off, saying your name much more commandingly, almost angry as he grabs your hips to spin you and face him. He yanks you close to him, leaning over you, his face torn between frustration and concern. “You are only fine when you think we’re looking. The second you think no one's watching I see you trying not to fall apart.” His hands move from your hips to cradle the sides of your face. “Talk to me.” 

It wasn’t what you wanted to say, but it slipped out before you could stop it. A small, cracked voice peeping out, “Why did you pick me?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t come here to waste all your time just talking, you came here to fuck. Why bother spending time with me like this?” 

Voice breathless and weak, you were just tired of it all. Oberyn’s forehead came to rest on yours for a moment, both your eyes shut at the simple contact. “I am a man who always knows what he wants. I walked into this building with Ellaria, and we quickly chose whichever body attracted us the most.” As if he could feel your pull, his grip on your cheeks and jaw tightened, pulling you against him closer, your torsos almost pressed against the other. “But then there was you, and I could feel your place in my heart even then. We aren’t spending time with you because we are bored, we chose you, I chose you because the last time someone captured my attention so quickly and deeply was when I met Ellaria.” 

Oberyn kept you in place as he moved slightly, his nose trailing down your own. “If I just fucked you, then you would have felt like everyone else. And I don’t want you to be everyone else here.” 

They hovered over yours, like Ellaria before, you could feel his breath on your skin, but then he sealed the space. You expected a man like Oberyn to kiss you like he lived his life, fast, harsh and demanding but passionate. Passion was there, but he was much kinder than you thought. 

Moving his soft lips against yours, not trying to pry you open and taste you more, just your lips moving together with a tenderness unknown to you, the feeling on your cheeks being his thumbs stroking back and forth in place. Your hands hovered over touching his waist when he pulled back ever so slightly. Your lips jutting forward to chase his, as he gave you one more, then pulled you chin up to look at him. 

Brown deep eyes locking your own gaze into his. “If this part is all you want that’s okay. But I want more. And I want you to give me that chance.” He tugs your chin up more, “I need you to say what you want. Out loud.” 

Finally you allowed your hands to touch at his waist, nodding first in his hold before remembering his demand. “I do, I do want that. I’m just..no one’s ever.” You sucked in a breath before the tears had a chance to water up again. “My body’s only ever been the things people are interested in. I’m not used to this.” 

Oberyn pressed his lips against yours once more, pulling away as he nudged his nose against yours, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head, as he pulled your body into his chest completely. “You’ve been patient with us the past few days. Answering all our questions and stories. Now, let me repay the favour.” 

The yes this time came from you leaning in to kiss him. A kiss that sparked something deeper in Oberyn's chest. His hands gripped tight, jaw clenching. “Lay on the bed.” 

While you moved back, there was just enough hesitation in your eyes for Oberyn to gently rub a thumb down your cheek before taking a step back. “Not for that. Not now. I’m going to give you something I think you need.” 

As you lay back, Oberyn kept his gaze locked onto you. Shedding the lushious white robe he had worn to the wedding, and pulling off the shirt covering his chest. When you raised your hands to pull the thin fabric down your shoulders, he grabbed at your hand. 

Shaking his head with a look of disapproval. A better view, you could see just how broad this man really was. Tall and large, taking up your whole view, a dark chest littered with faded scars and muscle that gave way to a softer stomach below. 

Lurching his body forward, Oberyn propped himself over top of you, as he grabbed your jaw, holding you in place as he kissed you. This was harsher, more demanding, much more what you had expected. His soft lips contrasting with how much he took and took, how he molded your lips to his control. 

Your hands began to roam the path of his chest and back, your touch enough to jolt his body like a fire had sparked below him. Simple lips against yours turned to biting, small whines from your mouth filling into his own groans. His tongue tracing your lips and moving in at your gasp. His tongue stroked against yours, before moving back to a biting kiss. It was almost messy, but Oberyn was in full control. He moved your mouth exactly how he wanted it, and all you could do was grab at his skin, push your palms up against his stomach and whine. 

One arm wrapped around your side and pulled you closer into his body before he laid down closer into you, pressing his weight more and as he began to pull his lips away, just out of reach, and then back. A few times he would do that, pull away just enough to nudge his nose against yours before recapturing your lips again. 

It was almost soothing, like his lips against yours and the back under your palms forced your anxieties down. No greedy touches, groping that bordered on painful, vulgar dribble meant to do nothing more than boost the man’s own ego. Just his touch, his mouth sealed against yours. Your bodies moved together, almost grinding of their own accord but he kept his attention on your lips. 

You think he mutters your name a few times, but the blood is ringing in your ears so loudly that you barely hear anything over his deep grunts and the desperate sound of trying to catch your breath anytime you remotely separate. Finally, Oberyn pulls back saying your name once more. “I want to do something for you, will you let me do that?” 

Your chest heaved against his, nothing but the thin sheer material of your dress keeping your bare chest from pressing against his. You only nod, fingers pressing down harder on the skin they lay, when Oberyn grabs your jaw, tilting your head to look into his eyes. “I need you to tell me, little one. Use your words.” 

High pitched and breathless, you spit it out. “Yes, please. You can touch me.” You want to shut your eyes, body buzzing from his intensity, but the hard and serious gaze towards you, a silent but unquestionable demand to look at him. 

The hand on your jaw slides down, facing down on the sheets beside your head, as he moves his other arm down. Tracing the soft skin of your thigh, whatever was exposed when you lay down. His nose once again rubs against yours, before moving to your cheek, and moments later, his lips, light as a feather press against your throat. The feeling like rushing water being dumped on you, your back arching with a gasp as he chuckles. “How often do men take their time with you?” 

His hand slid higher, but wasn’t greedy, a slow ascent to its peak, unphased by the warmth flowing from it the closer he got. You shook your head vigorously, “Never, they, they don’t- it’s not what they want.” 

Oberyn bites down on your skin, lips and tongue following to ease the bright sting. His bites burn down the length of your neck, only to have his kiss apologise against them on his way back up. “A shame. They’re missing out on something very addicting.” Reclaiming your lips, Oberyn moved his hand up right between your legs. 

Cupping your mound, he laughs into a harsh biting kiss when you gasp, hips lurching into his hand of their own accord. Thick fingers trace up and down against your entrance, gathering up whatever slickness he is given, before sliding them up to your clit. 

His first touch isn’t gentle, he grasps it in his fingers when you whine loudly. Gentle shushing purrs against your mouth, as another finger once again toys against sliding inside. Oberyn's fingers rub harshly, but soaked with your own juices and lingering on whichever pattern had you pressing against him the most. One of your hands found the back of his neck, a tight hold between his skin and wanting to thread through his hair. 

When the other hand found his chest, you moved your way down to the waistband of his pants, but it all stopped. His fingers pressed into your clit with an unrelenting pressure, but didn’t move. Snatching your hand from his skin he slams it down up above your head. “I-, I jus-”” you stammered, unable to find the right words between the hold on your wrist and the fire burning on your clit as he pressed down. 

Oberyn bites your bottom lip, tugging it just slightly to watch it bounce back into place with gritted teeth. “This is not about me. I am touching you, not the other way around.” 

Slowly he starts moving again, much more gentle circles against your clit, as the finger toying at your entrance slides in, so wet there is no resistance, he buries it as far as can reach. “Bu- But don't you want,” 

His finger strokes against your walls in tandem with the rubs of your clit. He chuckles, almost a deep and threatening laugh. It would be intimidating if you didn’t know any better. “Oh I do, little one. But I won’t fuck you yet.” The second straggling finger on his hand slides sin with the first and you squirm helplessly against the fire coiling inside you. “When I fuck you, I want your heart not just your cunt.” 

You can’t respond, his lips and tongue consume you. Flaming inside your mouth, and as it flows down your body like a spreading blaze, and meeting the white burning between your legs. You tense up, your body pressed against his large frame as you coil like a spring inside. 

You clench against the thick fingers inside you, causing Oberyn to release your wrist, holding your hand against his now, fingers tangled with each other. “Oberyn, please," You couldn’t think, you don’t know why it was a beg, or a question, you just wanted, needed him to bring you over the cliff into the waters below. 

His lips commanded you as his fingers wound you, your moans turn to whines the closer you get. But there was one final push he knew you didn’t realize you needed. “I’ve got you. Give it to me, my love.” 

Your orgasm hit you with no remorse. Your body shook as it felt like everything hit you at once, pleasure, pain, burning, sting, all mixed together as you barely have enough air in your lungs left to breathe out his name. 

There were a few moments that went by before he moved away from your cunt. Very slow pull of his fingers out of your warmth, as his rubs on your clit slowed to a stop, His hand once again cupping you entirely as the fog lifted. His nose rubbed against yours again, a manner almost loving and romantic. Your free hand slid down to the front of his neck against his collarbone, stroking the skin there back and forth. 

His lips around your ear, a much more playful yet condescending tone you’ve come to enjoy almost mocking you. “I assume none of these men also have ever made you cum, even if they meant to, have they?” 

Laughing filled the air between you. He didn’t need the answer, he already knew. Especially in a place like Kings Landing, the men here didn’t exactly emulate the aura of generosity. “Where did Ellaria go?” 

Smiling with nothing but fondness, Oberyn finally moved his hand away from his spot between your legs. Flopping onto his back, he pulled you right with him, your body splayed partially on top of his chest. “I’m sure she found some kind of trouble to keep her entertained. She wanted to give us privacy.” 

Trying to ask why, Oberyn leaned up enough to force you into a sitting position, putting his hand around a cheek covering your mouth with a thumb. “You’re not who you say you are.” 

In an instant dread slapped you in the face, you were right. He knew. If Oberyn knew who else in the city knew? Why wouldn’t he say anything, when did he find out? Your eyes were wide, full of fear but everything else from you was silent, unmoving like stone. When you tried to shake your head, his grip got tighter. 

“I’m not asking you to tell me, not right now. But I want you to think. When you are with me you are safe, no matter what, everything you tell me will not leave this room. But we do need to discuss it. When you’re ready.” Laying back against the sheets, Oberyn pulled you with him, laying your head on his chest, and your hands delicately placed near the softer stomach below. His own hands stroking the skin where he touched, fingers grazing the pulse on your wrist to feel you calm down. 

“Does Ellaria know?” Your voice was small and meek, unlike anything about the person you were trying to play. 

“She knows what I know.” You felt confused, trying to ask him why she wasn’t here then, but Oberyn just pulled you closer. “Having both of us in the room for this would be too much. Neither of us want you to feel pressured to talk just because we both are there.” 

You felt lips at the top of your head, and for the briefest of moments, you snuggled closer into his chest, trying to shut out the fear with his touch. Nothing about today was right. It was all wrong, for everyone. Whatever the future held for you it was now stripped of any certainty, but they weren’t pressuring you. They didn't threaten you, or hurt you for it, and for that all you can say to him, “Thank you. I just..can we stay like this a while longer?” 

His own head stayed against the top of yours, feeling him nod in agreement. For a while you just stayed like that, your anxiety threatening to take you over while Oberyn tried to tame it down with his touch. At some point you must have fallen asleep, because the next time you opened your eyes, a smaller dainty hand was draped across your stomach, having pulled you into Ellaria’s soft body behind. Oberyn on his side as well now, keeping you tucked in his chest while Ellaria’s lay like a guard behind you. 

You just shut your eyes, when you wake up things will be a little better you hope. Evening will have fallen over the city, and you three would share a meal, then relax like usual. At least for tonight, you could pretend as if things weren’t all about to fall apart. 

The quiet didn’t last long. It was only a matter of time, hours, days, for everything to come out, the instigator for the conversation though, was surprising. At the present moment, you were currently kneeled on the bed behind Ellaria who was sitting on the edge. Both of you laughed with each tug you had to make at her hair to undo the mess. 

Both her and Oberyn have been much more freely touchy towards you and you felt much more natural in returning it. You’re not sure if he told her directly what happened between you, or if she just knows her paramour so well that they both knew she could tell. Either way, both of them seemed to find a way to have their hands on you or vice versa almost all the time. 

It was when you went to start smoothing her hair down, that she had gotten the idea. You didn’t know much about traditional Dornish hair styling, but you had simply commented that it was nice to see her leaving her hair flow down naturally most of the time, as opposed to here. Saying that no matter what some of the girls suggested, you could never bring yourself to spend so much time on those styles, that Ellaria’s was much more like where you were from. 

“They don’t like those elaborate updos in the North?” You had paused for a moment, your hands falling from her hair and splat onto her shoulders, your fingers briefly gripping the skin there. Both you and Ellaria could see Oberyn clear as day in the mirror reflection, she watched your face as you looked at Oberyns. His head nodding briefly, a calm softer smile gracing it. 

A reassurance that he and Ellaria were on the same page, that you didn’t have to keep such an elaborate ruse in front of her. She was safe too. So you blinked a few times, wiping away the conflict, and simply laughed. “Northern women traditionally prefer to keep it down like this. I’m not sure if it’s solely because we see these weird Crownland styles and feel like they are obviously just to show off, or if somewhere back years ago we realized longer hair keeps your head warmer the closer to Winter we got.” 

Ellaria had reached behind her and playfully tugged a strand of your own hair near her face, holding onto it almost to keep you close enough she could see you in her own field of view. “I’m glad. You look far better when your hair is free to sit however you want, and of course, when you don’t have to paint your pretty little face up with so much makeup just to impress these dogs.” 

This time she had definitely looked at Oberyn, almost trying to poke at him with a smirk on her face. He had come up behind you, his large hands placing themselves on your hips as he draped his body over your back. “I would have to agree my love,” his fingers tilting your face up to look at him, as they then ran across your lips. “You’re infinitely more beautiful when you’re not just trying to impress us. Besides, I can't do this whenever I want if you colour them all day.” Leaning in to capture your lips with his. 

While his tongue had taken charge of your mouth, one of his hands blindly reached up to grasp Ellaria’s shoulders around you, and pulled her to the edge of the stool she sat in, putting her back right into your hips as Oberyn's hand stroked the skin on her neck. 

She hasn’t kissed you yet, even though she has touched you all morning in the same tender ways she does Oberyn. You’re not sure if she wants you to make the first move, so she knows this is what you want as well, or if she is waiting for something. When Oberyn pulled back from your lips, Ellaria took her chance, standing up and turning to hold you in her arms like Oberyn before, only hers were draped across your collarbones and the tops of your breasts. 

Looking him in the eye, Oberyn glared back as if deeply offended. “He’s had enough time with you already, don’t you think?” A smile took over the facade quickly. “It’s our turn to play, little one. Come,” she patted your hip, close to the edge of your ass. “Show me one of those hairstyles I keep seeing these women around here are always doing.” 

That’s how you ended up behind her, untangling the mess. It had not gone well. It was fun, and you both were laughing at how needlessly complicated it was, but neither you or Oberyn could figure out if it was just you who did a bad job, or if the style just looked terribly strange on Ellaria’s beautiful face. 

The day had been full of fun but endless teasing. Oberyn’s shirt had not been put back on since it was pulled off earlier by Ellaria. They had almost taunted you in their fucking, both of them making sure you had your eyes on them at all times. Oberyn’s dark and intense as he handled her more rough the longer his eyes watched yours, and Ellaria’s consumed with desire as she watched your voyeurism. Tempting you with their sex, trying to guide you to them as if saying “This could be yours as well, just open up and let us in, and this can be you too.” 

They had made a point not to hide their fucking in front of you, in fact, both putting on very deliberate shows, trying to get you off through sight alone it seemed. Tempting you to trust them with your heart before you trusted them with your body. 

At the present moment, Obeyrn hadn’t been away from the room for long. You had made an offhand comment about after you were done, you would go check if their washing was dry and bring it back. The man never ceasing to be a surprise, simply waved his hand, telling you to stay as he went to do the work you know the Royals here never would consider doing the work their servants were for.

Finally done, you had just placed your feet on the ground, you were greeted by Olyvar’s entrance. Calling you over to him, a serious look trying to bask itself as simple professionalism. His voice speaking out loud seemingly for whomever may be outside the open door. “Problem with another room, I just need you to keep some left behind belongings under closer supervision.” As he handed you a simple pile of what appeared to be a man's robe, and some jewellery, neither of you looked down at the pass over. 

You could feel it under your hand, right at the bottom. Paper. Small, scrunched paper being very carefully placed into your palm. “If you could, right away.” You nodded. 

There had been somewhat of an understanding between you and Olyvar. How much Baelish had disclosed to him you didn’t know, but it was clear that both of you were trying to protect that secret without stepping on anyone's toes. It may be Baelish he did the spying for, but none of the spies in Kings Landing did it out of pure loyalty. It could just have easily been Lord Varys the one who he passes on to. It wasn't personal.

You moved right away. The small alcove in the room was just out of sight of the door, you would have to be right beside it to see into the darker corner. Sometimes things left behind were kept under lock and key in certain rooms to avoid theft. Most of these men wouldn’t fare well being told someone stole something they left behind in a brothel. This room was one of them. 

Just as you started to walk over, Olyvar began talking with Ellaria, trying to use the conversation as a way to pull her out of your sight. As you stood in the small shelf space placing the items down, you pulled the paper out. 

A note. A note much like the ones he would sneak to Baelish for information. You didn’t know how he learned this, but you knew you didn’t want to. Your heart jumped in your chest at the words. 

“The Bird has flown North. The Rock shines bright in its absence.”

He knew. How could he know, how would he have found out? You couldn’t think, you couldn’t even hear. Voices were chatting away in the main room, but you were paralyzed. Staring at the ink scrawl as if it would tell you something different by sheer force. It was one thing to know Baelish brought you here knowing who you are, that was enough to leave you in fear. But this? This was something else entirely. You had to focus, act normal for now. The amount of people you can put any trust in was dwindling. 

You took a few deep breaths, hidden in the darkness. You could make out both Oberyn and Ellaria’s voice, and Olyvar in response. You could handle it, it was just them. But it wasn’t. Because footsteps, loud, thundering footsteps in tandem rang through the hall and into the door. 

A deep voice spoke, but far unlike Oberyns. This one, booming, full of command with no smoothness or comfort. “Prince Oberyn.” 

You pressed your back up against the wall, all air leaving your lungs. “Lord Twyin.”  This was all wrong, not now, it can’t be. Did he give you this note because he knew who was coming? The sounds of people leaving the room, doors shutting behind them leaving the room in a strange silence. 

They didn’t say you were here. Olyvar and Ellaria walked out, they knew you were here. What was said between them all? You couldn’t come out now, you can’t make your presence be known, not to him. Everything could end right now if you do. So you stayed, pressed against the wall, unable to give whatever privacy Lord Twyin has requested. 

Oberyn’s voice rang out, “Would you like to sit?” A shockingly polite no thank you came from Lord Tywin. The same politeness still, as Oberyn offers wine. You could partially see Oberyn from where you were. You couldn’t tell if he knew you were here or not, if they had said anything when leaving. Currently he wouldn’t be able to see you, but if he or Tywin moved to a closer angle, no doubt one of them would. “I’m sorry about your grandson.” 

“Are you?” Were you not so utterly terrified, you may have wanted to laugh. Not everyone is as cold and unfeeling as you, you thought. 

Oberyn took it with little offence. “I don’t believe a child is responsible for the sins of his father. Or his grandfather. An awful way to die.” 

“Which way is that?” Why would he be asking that? What game could he be playing involving his own grandson's death? Oberyn seemed to sense whatever intent Tywin had walked in with. His cocky voice rang out, asking almost in jest if this was supposed to be an interrogation.

Twyin’s next words made little sense to you. “Some believe the King choked.” 

Your eyes were stuck on a meaningless wooden panel on the floor. Believe? Why would some believe that but not others? You remembered, vividly Kayla’s horrified face as she returned, telling a horrible tale of the boy choking in the middle of the ceremony as he fell to the ground. Turning purple as the air in his lungs has no way to go. Oberyn, though, seemed to know exactly what this game was. “Some believe the sky is blue, because we live in the eye of a blue eyed giant. The king was poisoned.” 

Your eyes widened, head turning to the room catching a glimpse of Oberyn on the bed, eyes watching Tywin, anticipating whatever it was he was going to say. Everyone said he choked, no one had told you otherwise, but you suppose, you didn’t ask. 

“I hear you studied poisons at the citadel.” Oberyn wasn’t even phased it seemed. Confirming to the Lannister that's why he knows it was poison. What you thought or even suspected made less and less sense. Tyrion poisoning his nephew made little sense, but Oberyn’s made even less. Joffrey was a cruel boy, but his slights weren’t against Oberyn, or even Dorne. 

Tywin began to speak, as if filling the gaps in for your slow mind to keep up. “Your hatred for my family is rather well known. You arrive at the Capitol, an expert in poisoning. Some days later my grandson dies. Of poisoning.” 

Still on the bed, still unphased. “Rather suspicious. Why haven’t you thrown me in a dungeon?” He was never going to, that much seemed obvious. 

“You spoke with Tyrion in this very brothel on the day that you arrived. What did you discuss?” You struggled. This wasn’t your game, you were never exposed to the politics, you never watched and learned the games the highborns and royals all crafted. Tywin never answered Oberyn's questions directly. And again Oberyn being utterly unphased by whatever accusations he was implying. 

“You think we conspired together?” Oberyn was up, moving out of your view. Tywin simply asked again. You shouldn’t be here. You had no idea what Oberyn had discussed with Tyrion that day, it wasn’t your business or place to know.

Oberyn’s voice grew cold. Dropping whatever charade he was toying Lord Tywin with. “The death of my sister.” 

“For which you blame me.” Your fingertips dug into the wall behind you, a painful strain as you desperately tried to keep grounded. You definitely should not be here. 

Oberyn’s voice was quieter, you had to guess merely feet away from the Lannister. He was restrained, but a viciousness hissed behind them. “She was raped and murdered by the Mountain. The Mountain follows your orders, of course I blame you.” 

Your chest heaved in desperation, trying to breathe but it felt like you were constricting again. Dumb little girl, thats what you felt. You never questioned why he was here, why he came to a land full of a family he hates. He was here for something much more. 

“Well here I stand, unarmed and unguarded. Should I be concerned?” Tywin was almost condescending, as if trying to goat Oberyn into something. But neither man was a brawler, and certainly not stupid. Games you didn’t understand. 

Oberyn didn’t take it. “You are unarmed and unguarded because you know me better than that. I am a man of reason. If I cut your throat today, I will be drawn and quartered tomorrow.” 

Tywin wouldn’t budge if you had to guess. “Men at war commit all kinds of crimes without their superiors’ knowledge.” 

“So you deny involvement in Elia’s murder.” There was a silence between them. Your bated breath listening to something unfold you had to right to, but yet, made your little fake life feel even smaller. It took a moment. Both men do doubt staring intently at the other before Tywin spoke. 

“Categorically.” 

Eyes shut, you had to pull it together. Neither man was fooled by the other. Both of them knew exactly what had happened, but that's how Tywin works. Passes his dirty work to others who will do the job and take the blame. No trace leading back to just his words. Your father worked exactly the same. 

Oberyn came back closer into view, his tone clipped and restrained. “I would like to speak to the Mountain.” In a cruel twist, you ended up thinking exactly what Tywin said, only he was far much more condescending. That you were sure the Mountain would love that meeting.

“I could arrange for this meeting.” Confused, you watched Oberyn diligently. He knew the game Tywin was playing, but you weren’t so sure Tywin knew that. 

“But you want something in return.” Tywin and your father were made for eachother, both powerful commanding men only doing things for others if he could find a benefit for himself. 

“There will be a trial for my son, and as custom dictates, three judges will render a verdict. I will preside. Mace Tyrell will serve as the second judge. I would like you to be the third.” 

Oberyn only asked why. Lord Tywin was granting him a strange amount of respect for the threat he poses to his person and his family. “Not long ago, the Tyrells sided with Renly Baratheon. Declared themselves enemies of the throne. Now they are our strongest allies.” 

You knew the Tyrells somewhat. As a girl, you met The Lady Olenna, your mother hated her, but the woman seemed somewhat fond of you. Sometimes you wonder if the wit you developed not long after that, had influence rooted in Roses. You had also met Loras a few times since being here, though you were mostly busy trying to figure out if he was genuinely trying to hide his preference for men or if he just wasn't subtle. You could at least take some pleasure in knowing at least you were better at keeping a secret then Loras.

Oberyn’s response was dangerous. “You made the Tyrell girl a queen. Asking me to judge at your son's trial isn’t quite as tempting.” 

It was only just audible. A breath of a laugh leaving you, before you could worry if Oberyn had heard you, it was too late. 

“I would also invite you to sit on the Small Council.” His body turned away from Tywin, that hit something in him. Oberyn's head lifting up, a darkness masked behind a stone wall in his face. Then his eyes found you. Pressed terrified against a wall, hiding from Lord Tywin. Your eyes pleaded. You wanted to apologize, you wanted to run, but you were stuck. Tywin, unable to see the exchange continued, “To Serve as one of the new King’s principal advisors.” 

Whatever running through his head, slunk back down out of sight. His head lowering just enough with his deep brown eyes soft, reassuring. Telling you not to be scared of him of all people. Then a shift, cocky and ready to play as he turned to the Lannister once more. “I never realized you had such respect for Dorne, Lord Tywin.” 

“We are not the Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold.” And which family had actively made that next to impossible? “The King is dead, the Greyjoys are in open rebellion. A wilding army marches on the wall,” 

Wildings? That was news to you. “And in the East, a Targaryen girl has three dragons. Before long she will turn her eyes to Westeros. Only the Dornish managed to resist Aegon Targaryen and his dragons.”

There it was. Dorne was the only Kingdom in Westeros ever to resist the Targareyans in the past. It had nothing to do with his grandson, he just wanted to find a way to use Dorne for his own advantage. 

“You’re saying you need us? That must be hard for you to admit.” Oberyn's condescending tone couldn’t even bring you out of your thoughts enough to be amused. No doubt he saw through this, right? Tywin Lannister is not a man trying to reunite Dorne with the rest of the Kingdom to work with them in equal peace. 

“We need each other. You help me serve justice to the King’s assassins, and I will help you serve justice to Elia’s.” No, you thought. No he won’t, justice isn’t what he's looking for. He’s placing his own son on trial at the behest of him and his malicious sister. There was no justice here and he doesn’t care about any kind of justice for Elia Martell, or her children. Men like Tywin Lannister have no compassion. 

You’re not sure how long you stood there in silence, still pressed against the wall, but slouched down. Almost as if you were about to slide to the floor under the weight of everything. The sound of the door shutting registered in the back of your mind, but did little to entice you to move. At some point your eyes slid shut, watching the words swirl in your mind. 

It wasn’t until the soft sounds of footsteps came in front of you, did you open them, bringing yourself back to the present. Looking up slightly to face him, his own face lost in his own thoughts, eyes scanning you up and down for a moment. “I think there are a few things we need to talk about.” 

With a deep sigh you moved yourself up and off the wall, following Oberyn’s arms gesturing to the main room. Ellaria stood near the wall, and briefly the dread built, the anxiety of angering both of them. As she moved towards you though, the feeling of your heart dropping settled as her outstretched arms pulled you into her body, soft hands finding your face. “You’re okay?” Nodding her face lightened in relief. “What happened?”

Your hands grasp her wrists, as you look down. But it was Oberyn’s voice who answered for her. “It would seem more than just Lord Baelish knows you.” Not looking up, you pulled Ellaria’s hands from your face before stepping away. 

There was only so much you could see when you looked out the window, but the crowded, filthy city streets below. “I don’t know which people may or may not know. I don’t know how far South the it spread.” That growing anxiety felt too much, like it had tipped beyond its peak and now weighed you down with exhaustion. This was a ruse you didn’t think you would still be anywhere near here. If the walls were closing in on this secret, you’d rather at least be able to tell someone who you didn’t hate. 

Instead of either of their warm, all encompassing embrace you’d come to know, you simply felt Oberyn’s hands on either side of your arms. His voice is quiet, almost soothing in its calmness. “Unfortunately, sweet girl, it doesn’t need to spread that far. All it takes is the wrong person to see you, and they’re already writing to whoever they’re working for.” 

You think you hear Ellaria coming up beside Oberyn, and you turn in his grasp suddenly, looking up at them both. “Is that how you knew? Why you’re even bothering with me in the first place? Someone told you I’m alive, so you spend time with me, and get me to tell you who I am and use it to your own advantage?” 

That wasn't a fair accusation, but you were upset and it just spilt out in anxiety.

Ellaria’s grip on Oberyn's waist tightens as Oberyn steps forward, forcing your chin up with his fingers, and for once you understand his reputation. This plotting darkness behind such rich brown eyes is seeping with intensity, though it’s not quite anger or contempt as many likely have been subjected to. “I knew who you were, because unlike the unsuspecting men who just follow your father without question, I’m not fooled by a half baked story of a Lord’s missing daughter, who unceremoniously turns up dead, yet no one ever saw a body.” 

When your eyes widen, one finger under your chin climbs up, stroking lightly against your bottom lip. Oberyn then says your name, your real name. “We spend our time with you, because we wanted to know you. Both of us saw you, and knew there was more to this,” His head looking your sultry attire up and down, “then what you’re trying to convince people of. I’m not some Lord looking to take advantage of you, or a Lannister using you for leverage I don’t need, and I am not one of your father’s allies willing to sell you out just to gain favour with the despicable man you ran from.” 

Finally, his gaze softened, Ellaria calmly watching his tension slip back down. “I wanted you to tell me yourself, because that meant you trusted me. Not because you’re scared of me.” Waiting until you either said yes, or nodded in understanding, Ellaria slid between you both, Oberyn's own hands going to hold her waist in return as Ellaria once again cupped one of your cheeks. 

“You are safe with Oberyn. Safe with me. In this room you have us, you don’t need to keep all this building up inside. All we want from you, is to just let us in.” Your own eyes shut as you let out a breath. First feeling her forehead gently press against yours, and then the sensation of your face being pulled in. 

If Oberyn’s kiss was overwhelming, Ellaria’s was intoxicating. She wasn’t commanding, but almost guiding, wanting you to just let her kiss you the way you need. Pulling away too soon, your eyes remained shut for a brief moment, fluttering open as the breath of her chuckle hit your skin. “I’m sorry. For everything today. It’s all just so much in my head, I don’t know, I wasn’t really thinking clearly.” 

Oberyn’s head leaned into Ellaria’s shoulder, “Don’t apologize. Neither of us have any need for you to say sorry. Besides, I assume this was the first time you learned most of that news. That alone would be enough to overwhelm anyone.” Finally he moved away from Ellaria, and gestured to you to come over to the bed. “Come. We’ll just sit and have a drink. However much you want to tell us, you can do so at any time. If I wanted to interrogate you, I’d simply give you vague threats about your intentions being in the capitol, not fill you with wine and share your bed.” 

Gods, that was something else entirely. Being in the room hiding from the one man who would have no qualms using you as a pawn for his newly secured power in the North was one thing. Listening to him come in and imply a Prince conspiring to murder a kid was another. 

You found a smirk made its way to your face as Oberyn handed you a drink, feeling more yourself now that your heartbeat has stopped feeling like a constant explosion. “Well if you do, let me know. I’ll practice walking around the room shirtless with a condescending attitude.” 

Before getting a word out, Ellaria pulled your legs to drape over hers. “Oh you don’t need an excuse to do that, Sweet girl. Neither of us will stop you from slipping this off.” Her finger toyed against your sleeve fabric. 

For a while things were a bit calmer, but you weren’t sure what to say about anything otherwise. That trickle of worry slipping back into your head, telling you that it doesn’t matter that they want to know you, or if they like you. Reminding you that when they leave, you’re back alone in this city and no ready plans of where to go or how to escape the capitols always watchful eyes. 

No one brought up Elia. None of you needed to. Oberyn wasn't here by coincidence, and neither were you. Something would snap eventually. It always does. So for now, things kept going and you could just pretend.

The lovers had a routine, your time became equally split between each of them. Oberyn’s new place on the small council kept his days busy in the Red Keep, so Ellaria had your time during the day. The woman was light, and full of life. Listening to her spin stories of the people she’s met, places she’s been, trouble she’s found herself in and it all makes you yearn for a kind of freedom you never had. 

Evenings and into the night were spent with both of them usually, but Ellaria gave him the space to keep you all to himself most of the time. To them, they had spent many years together, giving up time with each other to allow them separate time with you which didn't even phase the other. 

This particular evening, Ellaria had found a spot at the table away from you both, so she could write to her daughters in peace. You and Oberyn had moved to the bed, trying to let her work quietly, but the distance did nothing to deafen your laughter. 

“I’m just saying, picturing you as a full Maester might be the most absurd thing I’ve ever imagined.” Your body splayed out, only your elbows holding you up slightly as Oberyn splayed over your legs, keeping you trapped from scrambling away further. 

“What? You’re not turned on imagining me dressed in boring rags? Puttering around weak and feeble from like the Grandmaester Pycelle? Only getting your attention from whines and sympathy?” Making his way up so he took up the space over your chest, smile shining as he dares you to picture that. 

Almost without thinking, your head leaned back in laughter, before you flopped your body back down entirely on the bed as you spoke. “He’s not as weak as he plays at. You wouldn’t believe the stories some of the girls come back with. Based on what they say he’s probably that slow because he’s constantly exhausted from the night before.” 

For a moment your eyes widen, realizing you’ve spilt something the Grandmaester probably would like to keep secret. Oberyn’s fingers start toying with your dress, forcing a frown like a child, “Well if you’re so enamored with him, I’m sure he’d love to work something out.” 

Slapping at his hands to shove him away, but he’s faster and more sly, tugging and pulling just enough to almost expose you. 

His laugh is deep and almost adorable at your disgusted shout through laughter, “Stop, if you’re gonna be that disgusting you’re not allowed to touch me.” 

All he can do is once more moving up your body more, such clearly fake sincere looks on his face. “So I’m not good enough you admit,” Nose brushing against yours as you rustle under him, “We can always roleplay if that helps.” 

His smirk was too much, summoning just enough strength to shove his broad chest away from you, so you could sit up properly. “Alright , enough.” Playfully pointing at him turns into a light smack as he tries to grab at your hands. “I was amused imagining you so uniform and boring, but now I’m just horrified.” 

Settling closer to your own body, he starts to tenderly push the messy pieces of hair back into place, almost without thinking. “They aren’t all boring at the Citadel,” pausing in his movements for a second he half shrugs, “Well, most of them are. I forged six links before I had enough of how incredibly bored I was. Besides, I have needs I’d prefer not to ignore.” His hand traced down your dress’s neckline before sliding his legs onto the bed properly to lay next to you, more propped up. 

Laying now on your side to see him properly, your head sat upright on your palm. “Is that where you got your name? From the poisons you studied there?” 

A fond smile crossed his lips, “Somewhat. It didn’t start spreading around until after I had left, when they realized I found ways to use poison with my weapons instead of replacing them. What did you think it referred to?” 

Your free hand resting along your hip gestured up to his body before finding a tiny grasp on the edge of his shirt. “I always just assumed it was because everyone always said you fought and moved so fast and sleek as you fought. Viper, because that’s like how snakes move around.” 

Oberyn moved to grab wine that was previously being ignored. Helping move you to sit propped up, face turned closer to his. “That’s a reasonable guess. But people simply realized that a snake’s bite is far more dangerous than how fast it moves.” His hand coming up to your lips, a tight watchful gaze behind his dark eyes as he gently pours some into your mouth. “You wouldn’t believe the ways you can hide a poison in plain sight.” 

His hand pulled away, as you drew a hand up to your chest in mock horror, “I should have known. Feeding me with something to trick me into liking you. I knew a man so attractive but charismatic was just too unrealistic to not be a trick.” 

You watched the muscles in his neck move as he took a sip of his own, but watching the barley held back lust pleading to be let out in your eyes. Reaching blindly behind to put it back down, he pulled your chin in with his fingers closer to whisper, that sly seductive look painted all across it. “That’s hurtful, if I slipped you anything, it would be much more likely an aphrodisiac, get you more worked up to my touch, not more brainless.”

Oberyn captured your lips in a brief kiss, just with enough force to start pulling you under his spell before he pulled away. As he leaned up so his torso sat upright, you leaned in to sit almost cross legged beside him, looking now with genuine wonder. “But really, there’s that much to learn about poisons that you can spend years on it?” 

You could see his thoughts drifting, even as he looked you in the eye, for a moment he was drawn into his own plans it seemed. He returned to you almost in a blink, seemingly pushing whatever it was down for the time being. “Most of them are quite similar. But it’s those very tiny changes in your mixture that can turn it in either direction.” 

His hand reached out, cupping your cheek as he lost the other part of him in your eager and intrigued expression. “For some using a tasteless and painless way to kill us preferred. Most don’t deserve to go otherwise, especially in such a spectacle.” 

Grabbing the hand on your cheek, you brought it around to kiss his knuckles. Holding it to the exposed skin near your heart. “And the others?” 

Oberyn knew you didn’t have any intentions asking that, you were a curious little thing after such a reserved existence. Still those thoughts flowed back to the surface. He’s not sure where you fit in with this plan, or how it will play out. Ellaria has spent years by his side to understand what she was getting herself into when coming here. 

You came here under someone else’s orders, for a reason unknown to either of you, but more and more you were creeping your way into his. Mapping a way to keep you safe, without leaving you behind in the dark. 

The next few days were going to determine many things for a number of people in the city, including himself. So he had to think carefully, and for now, he could only answer carefully as well. 

“The other kinds are cruel. A burning pain that can leave one in such agony they want to end themselves before the poison finally does. It’s rare that someone would deserve to die like that. But they do exist, and they’ll get nothing more than what they deserve.” 

Oberyn's eyes flashing dark and intense, lost in his pain, his rage. So you pushed gently at his chest to lay own, draping your body over his chest and captured his soft lips with yours to soothe the darkness away.

For now that was enough, but you felt something more again. An approaching storm you wouldn't be able to navigate alone.

A unknown that plauges you with fear.

[atomic--peach]

The Queen's Handmaiden pt.16

(Cersei Lannister x Fem Reader x Sandor Clegane: GRAPHIC SMUT AND MURDER. If you want an alternative version I am publishing this as an OC centric fic on AO3 )

Sweat clung to your neck and back as you rolled your hips firmly, bolts of pleasure shooting through your body.

If you had known this was what it took to make up for your mean little game, you would have prepared yourself more.

Your legs and core ached from effort but Sandor was relentless. Large hands guided your body like a puppet as he growled under you.

"Darling" you whined, "I'm not sure how much more I can take."

"Tired already, sweetling?" Sandor's hand moved from your hip to your face, gently rubbing over your cheek and lingering at your lower lip. "Would you prefer being bent over the chair again?"

You winced, the places where the back of the chair pressed into your belly still aching.

"No" you shook your head. "But darling, I need to rest. I can't-"

Sandor chuckled darkly, deciding to take pity on his sweet wife by flipping you over onto your stomach, face pressed into the pillows as you raised your ass for him welcomingly.

When he pushed back into you, he reveled in your squeals, knowing that each thrust into your overstimulated cunt brought you closer and closer to oblivion yet again.

Your small fist clutched at the bed sheets as cries and moans of ecstasy were muffled by pillows. Your body was so used, it almost wanted to resist the ravishing you'd endured for what must be hours by now. But your cunt was so wet from constant stimulation and your husband's seed that his cock pushed through you with no effort, hitting you deeper than you thought possible.

"Fuck" you breathed, "Please. Please."

"Please what, my love?" Sandor's hand pressed your spine down into an arch that nearly sent your eyes to the back of your head.

"Close, so close." you whispered, "Oh fuck."

"Close? I thought you said you couldn't take any more." He taunted you, picking up his pace just to watch your face twist and your lungs gasp to keep up. "Should I stop?"

"No." you begged, "Don't stop, don't. Gods!"

You buried your face into the crook of your elbow as your body went rigid for the final time that morning. Sandor slowed his thrusts, letting you ride it out before coming back down.

"Sweet girl." His hand rubbed the small of your back soothingly, "good girl."

You let out a whine gasp when he pulled out, watching with amusement as your hips rolled and bucked as if still hungry for more.

His wife whined and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him to you tightly as you could.

Before you could settle back in, a knock came at the door to the chamber.

"Noooooo" you whimpered, trying to pull him back to you as he rose.

"Clegane!" a voice called from the other side of the thick oak door.

"Is someone dead?" Sandor called, fumbling for his trousers.

"...No." The voice replied hesitantly.

"Is someone dying?"

"No, they aren't."

"Then they'd better be by the time I get to that door, or you're going out the fucking window," Sandor replies, stomping towards the door and jerking it open hard.

On the other side of the door, Lord Petyr Baelish stood on the other side, looking rather unintimidated.

Sandor rolled his eyes with a groan, "Fuck's sake, what do you want?"

"My apologies for the intrusion." He began, glancing at you, who had just started to come back to yourself and reach for your robe. "I won't be but a moment. This is for you."

He handed Sandor a length of parchment rolled up tight.

"Congratulations. You are now Master of Clegane Keep."

Sandor eyed the little man for a moment.

"He's dead then?" He prompted.

"No, Gregor is alive and well." Baelish shook his head, "Much to the displeasure of the good people of the Riverlands. It's all explained in there, very official." He glanced back at you, and you waved slightly, holding your robe to your chest before nodding. "I'll leave you two be then."

You wrapped your robe around your tightly and crawled over the bed towards him. "What is it?"

Sandor unrolled the parchment and read carefully, his brows raising in surprise mixed with concern and frustration.

"Good?" you prompted him, "Bad? Give me something to go off of."

"It would seem." Sandor began, settling in a chair while reading slowly. "That Gregor has been declared an enemy of the crown."

"What?" you blinked, "What did he do?"

"He was seen leading a band of brigands through the Riverlands, slaughtering everyone they saw, destroying crops, killing livestock. He rides without a banner or sigil, but from the description, it really couldn't be anyone else."

"I suppose men roughly the height of weight of a full-grown mountain bear are hard to come by." you nodded, "But what does that have to do with us?"

"Well, when Stark declared him an enemy of the Crown, he stripped him of all his lands, holdings, and titles. Normally, in these circumstances, it would all go back to the crown itself, but instead, they decided to pass it down the line of succession."

You blinked for a moment, "Wait, does that mean what I think it means?"

"Apparently." Sandor shook his head, "I am now the Master of House Clegane."

"You don't sound happy." you approached him, slipping off the bed and padding across the stone floor in her bare feet. "Why don't you sound happy?"

"I don't know how to feel." Sandor confessed, "I never really considered this a possibility, so I never bothered to think about it."

"Well," you bit your lip, slipping into his lap, "Can I be happy about it?"

"I don't see why not." Sandor scoffed, setting aside the paper to focus on his wife. "But it's not like it changes much for us."

"It changes everything for me." you insisted. "Sandor, I grew up a street urchin in Flea Bottom. The most I ever hoped for was to find a husband that didn't beat me every night. and now..." you smirked, "I guess I can stop correcting people when they call me Lady Clegane now."

"Since when do you care about position?" Sandor laughed, grabbing your ass teasingly and you laughed with him.

"Since I have one, formally anyway." you informed him, "My children won't be born into squalor, they'll have bright futures. And for that I am happy." 

Sandor looked at his wife thoughtfully, cupping your chin pensively before venturing a small genuine smile. 

"You're going to be a wonderful mother, you know." 

You beamed at this high praise, hugging him around the neck gently with your fingers in his hair. 

"And you will be a wonderful father."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." 

"Oh stop" You scolded him playfully.  "You will be. They say a woman becomes a mother when she conceives her baby, but a father doesn't become a father until he holds his child. You'll see, it will happen."

Sandor didn't respond to that, instead opting to carry his wife back over to the bed, grinning as you yelped in surprise and clung to him to avoid falling. 

-------------------------------------

News of Gregor's crimes spread through the court quickly. 

And while you were able to revel in the high position this put your family in, that didn't change the looks of contempt and fear you received from the other ladies. 

You began to wonder if it might have been smarter to refuse Gregor your favor during the tourney. For now, it seemed Guilt By Association was the phrase of the day. 

"Ignore it" Sandor whispered, "Don't show any emotion one way or the other. It's just another day." 

You stuck to this, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible. 

"Good Morning, darling." The queen greeted as you joined her train of courtiers. 

"Good morning, Your Grace."

"I've heard you and your husband received some good news this morning." Cersei eyed you knowing. 

"We received the news, yes." you eyed those around them who were clearly listening. "My husband and I grieve for the people of the Riverlands, and we hope Gregor is brought swiftly to justice." 

"Of course, a terrible business." Cersei agreed. "But I think we all saw who the better man was after that spectacle at the Hand's tourney, isn't that right?"

The question was posed to the surrounding courtiers who nodded and voice their agreement with varying degrees of enthusiasm. 

You smiled at this. 

You couldn't put your finger on how, but there was something viscerally satisfying about watching those who had looked down on you be forced to acknowledge your good fortune. 

When Cersei was pleased enough, the merry group was disbanded and you were left to tend to your mistress alone. 

"I want your counsel" Cersei hooked her arm through yours,  "About Joff"

"You and Lady Sansa both." you laughed. "Apparently I am considered something of an expert on the subject." 

"Sansa and Joff must marry, that much is clear" Cersei began. "But it's getting him down the aisle that's proving a hardship. He shows no enthusiasm for the deed."

"Well" you began, "I have an opinion, but I fear you won't like it." 

"Tell me anyway." Cersei sighed, bracing herself. 

"Prince Joffrey is exceedingly privileged. He is beautiful, strong, and the heir to the iron throne." you cushioned your coming opinion.

"But he sees men like his father, and uncle Jaime, and even Sandor who fight and go out and hunt, and....." she paused before continuing "other things young men are wont to do" 

"And?"

"And he's getting to that age where he's going to want to join the men." you pressed gently, "We both know the prince adores you, but there comes a time when young men must separate from their mothers." 

"But-" Cersei went red-faced and winced, distressed by the idea of her firstborn venturing out into the world. "What do you suggest?" 

"Well," you thought. "When Ser Jaime returns, why don't you ask him to take a stronger in the prince's life? Robert isn't the only man around who can lend a hand."

Cersei sighed but nodded, "I wish my father were here. He'd know what's needed."

"He sounds like an admirable man, my queen" you squeezed her hand. You often missed your own siblings, the closest people you had to parents besides Varys. 

"He is." Cersei nodded with a fond smile. 

"Why not invite him to court?"

"He's busy" Cersei's face fell, "he's always been a rather busy man."

"Well," you rubbed your lover's arm comfortingly. "In the meantime, maybe advise Prince Joffrey to do something simple for Lady Sansa. A gift maybe? Or a favor."

"Maybe" Cersei nodded sagely. "I think I will. Thank you, darling." The queen kissed your cheek sweetly before departing to find the princeling. "I'll be back. Why don't you go enjoy the gardens?"

The summer morning air was blissfully still as you wandered. The flowers were still in bloom, and the shading trees reached over you like giant wings. 

For a moment, it seemed all was right with the world. 

 -----------------------------

Lancel had the look of a madman as he dashed through the garden paths. 

When he spotted a figure garbed in blue damask silk with hair carefully braided back into a halo, he rushed you fearfully. 

"My Lady!"

You turned and your eyes widened in shock at the sight of the scarlet-garbed squire covered in blood" 

"Oh gods, Lancel!" you reached for him instinctively and grabbed his skinny arms. "What happened, are you hurt?"

"No, no it's not mine." Lancel babbled, "It's the king's. I-I-I"

You moved quickly to cover his mouth and pulled him into a hug.

"Mind your words," you hissed into his ear so quietly he could barely hear her over his own ragged breathing. "There are ears everywhere. You know that."

Lancel nodded, his arms hanging limply at his sides as you pulled away from the embrace. 

"Now" you pushed his long, flaxen hair behind his ear. "Tell me what happened."

"The king was hurt." He breathed, "He tried to spear a boar but the beast charged him and- and."

"Shshsh" you hushed him, pulling him towards a garden pool and wetting your handkerchief in the water before wiping the blood from his brow slowly. 

"Lancel, you need to listen to me very carefully." you whispered. "Go to your quarters, take off those clothes before anyone else sees you, and do not repeat a single word of what you've told me to anyone. You need to understand this is a very delicate situation. Yes?"

Lancel nodded silently, his blue eyes wide with terror. "Did...did we"

"Hush" you snapped then softened your tone, "we must never speak of it. Not ever. Do you understand?" 

The squire nodded again and you sent him off before taking stock of yourself. 

Your hands were shaking, and you was sure you were paler than death itself. 

"Get it together" you whispered to yourself. "First things first" 

You had to find the Queen. 

----------------------------

Barristan had beat you to the punch, much to your disappointment. 

The queen was already at her husband's deathbed, but you kept to the outskirts in case you were needed. 

Peering down the stone corridor, you jumped as a hand came down on your shoulder. 

"What are you doing here?" Sandor hissed, clad in plate with his helm under one arm. Hand on the pommel of his broadsword. 

"Same as you, I expect." you whispered, "awaiting our Queen's word." 

"I don't play the husband card often," Sandor breathed, "But you need to go to our rooms, lock the door, and do not open it for anyone who isn't me."

You looked him up and down, noticing for the first time he was prepped for a fight. 

"What's happening that I don't know about?"

"You'll find out later. But for now, you need to leave. If you can find the Stark girls, bring them with you and wait until I come for you." 

You nodded, you knew around this time Sansa would be with her Septa in the atrium. 

You walked swiftly but did not run. Running would call attention you didn't need. 

Sansa was exactly where you knew you would find her. Clad in pale blue and reciting history lessons to her Septa, a kindly old woman. 

"Pardon my intrusion," you announced yourself, a fake smile masking your face as you eyed the Septa respectfully. 

"Do you mind terribly if I borrow the Lady Sansa for just a moment?" 

Sansa was grateful to be swept away from her lessons, but her face fell when she detective the tense gleam behind your eye. 

"My Lady," you spoke quietly, "I need you to come with me. Don't ask questions now, I will explain when we get to my chambers. Now, I'm going to ask you a question and I need you to remain calm."

Sansa nodded slowly, her breath catching. 

"Do you know where your sister is?" 

Sansa shook her head, "with her dancing master I think?"

"Okay, where is that in the castle?"

"I'm not sure" Sansa began to shake. "Did my father send you?"

"No, he is busy for now. But he would want you to get somewhere safe." you decided to leave the younger Stark girl in the hands of her dancing master and hooked Sansa's arm around yours. 

"We are going to walk very calmly but very quickly to my chambers." you whispered and the teen nodded slowly. 

"What about Septa?"

"She'll be fine" you assured her, "you are my concern right now."

The castle had jumped into action and Sansa clung tightly to you as groups of guards passed them, weapons drawn. 

"Keep calm" you whispered. "Not much further" 

The Hound's quarters were not inside the holdfast with the royal family, so your journey was not hampered by King's Guard. 

You were stopped only once. 

"The Lady Sansa is to..."

"The Lady Sansa is to come with me." You drew yourself to your full height and pulled your shoulders back straight. "On the orders of Sandor Clegane, Sworn Sword to King Joffrey Baratheon."

Your eyes locked but ultimately it was the guard who backed down. "As you were, My Lady" 

"King Joffrey" Sansa paled as you pulled her forward, the door within sight. 

"I couldn't tell you before." you pulled the teen inside and locked the door firmly behind you. For good measure, you grabbed a chair and wedged it under the handle. 

"The king is dead." 

[multi-fandom-fanfiction]

Requests I have (if you don't see yours please let me know)

Jamie and Cersei Lannister X Daughter!Reader (Platonic)

(Cersei wants to marry off there daughter but she is Jamie”s pride and joy and wont let that happen)

FP Jones X Reader (Smut) (FP Jones x reader!Andrew!rough)

Joffery Baratheon X Sister!Reader (Platonic!!!) he’s sadistic like joffery? that’s the reason they’re really close and trust each other more than anything

Joffery Baratheon X Sister!Reader (Smut) (joffrey imagine where him and his sister (2 years older) have always had sexual tension but they never saw it that way and one night while she’s changing joffrey bursts through the door angry about something but stops when he sees her. both of them at this point are horny for each other and he comes up to her kissing her while he grabs her breast and shes kind of in shock still but melts into it and yeah they have sex on the bed and take turns topping each other)

Ramsay Bolton X Sister!Reader (Smut) (Ramsay (got) has a younger sister and they often have intercourse, but this one night Ramsay brings Reek, his father and mother into readers room and ties them up. He tells them to watch. So Ramsay and her have really rough sex and tells them to look at her and makes her look at them to make sure they knows how good Ramsay makes her feel. When they’re done they kill them)

Betty Cooper X Fem!Reader (damn! i would have never imagined myself being with betty but when i was reading your post, u couldn’t stop myself from smiling! soft girlfriends haha. i love it! 💖💖💖 could you do something like this but as best friends with cheryl/toni or even both if it’s not too hard for you? i wanna see where it would go!)

Daenerys Targaryen X mercenary!male reader (The reader is a mercenary whom Cersei hires to kidnap Daenerys shortly after she arrives at Dragonstone. But instead of bringing Dany to Cersei, the mercenary decides to keep her for himself and tame her into becoming his willing lover)

Cersei Lannister X Fem!Reader (The reader faints in Cersei"s arm)

Petyr Baelish X Baratheon Fem!Reader (Semi Requested!) (Now that all of her brothers are gone Robert"s legitimate daughter has risen to be seated on the throne. Her council is demanding a husband what will the new queen do!)

Robb Stark X Baratheon Fem!Reader (Hey I love your work! Could I request some angsty robb stark x reader? Maybe reader is Cersei and robert’s true child and was married off to robb. Cersei is very distressed about your wellbeing when the war breaks out and when she learns of the plans of the red wedding, she begs her father to spare you. He does but at a price for your continued show of hatred of the Baratheons and lannisters. Letting you have to watch as robb dies and returning you home without realizing you’re pregnant.)

A wolverine request but I can’t find the info (so if you requested a wolverine request please resend it)

1.Twisted Desires

Dean, Sam, and Y/N Winchester were trapped together from the moment John found yellow eyes had killed the mother of his child was killed by yellow eyes in 1988 exactly five years after his wife and mother of his eldest two children were murdered by the same demon. The three lived by there father’s code doesn’t go somewhere twice and you don’t stay long. They never got to make friends so they were all each other had so maybe it was a flower in the attic complex. The three siblings loved each other far more than anyone else ever but maybe Sam and Dean’s love wasn’t a way older brothers were supposed to love their little sisters and Y/N’s love wasn’t a way a little sister should love her brothers. But they controlled themselves the best they could. Sam went away to college and Y/N and Dean continued until Sammy got home. The three of them wouldn’t admit it but they needed each other but one night after all three Winchesters were frustrated over a particularly hard case and tightened sexual tension. Sam threatens to leave and Dean tells him to go. What happens when Y/N breaks down and begs him to stay? Will she confess how she feels or will there twisted desires remain hidden?

1.Going against the gods

Ivar the Boneless always felt like everyone tortured him everyone but his perfect goddess like Y/H/C (Your Hair Color) hair and Y/E/C (Your eye color) little sister. She was made for him she loved all her brother’s but Ivar knew he was her favorite. Whatever he wanted she gave him whatever he wanted her to do she did. When he killed Sigurd she didn’t call him a monster and never talk to him again. She began to cry and beg the gods to let him into Valhalla but not before Ragnar’s only living daughter took his hands softly and told him he needs to work on his temper but she still loved him. When Ubbe and Hvitserk boarded the boat she refused yelling, “He needs us I will not leave our brother and I will not choose between the three of you.” Though his sister began to distance herself after he married Freydis and realized he was a god. She began to pull away from Ivar and with ever pull there was a slide closer to there older brother Hvitserk. Ivar didn’t like it and as king he had to stop it even if that meant going against the gods.

1.Love At First Sight

Okayyy so It Would be the little sister of Scott (cyclops) and Alex(Havok) wich would fall un Love With logan the first Time she sees him☺️(3

1.I never stopped loving you

Billy Hargrove and Y/N Harrington were young and in love many years ago in high school. They broke up because Billy didn’t know his worth. Billy stayed in Hawkins went to a trading school and opened a garage. He even started steadily with a new girl after Y/N never came home at Christmas and then summer. She went to a big college a few states away her way of escaping her family even though Billy always said she was running from him and his messy life. A few weeks after moving to college she finds out the biggest shock of her life. She was carrying Billy Hargrove’s baby. Only one person knew, her twin brother Steve Harrington. Now four years later Billy is engaged and Y/N is finally coming home. What will happen with the two back in town together? 

2.Love Again

After Diana left him he though for sure he would never love again. Then the summer after the Hargrove's moved to town here comes Neil’s eldest daughter. 22-year-old Y/N moves to Hawkins Indiana after college. She pulled up one day to pick Max up from  El’s. The moment Jim swung the door open his breath left his chest. What happens when he hires her as Eleven’s tutor and Jim finds himself falling in love with the young woman. Will Y/N fill the same way? Is this Jim Hopper’s chance to love again or will he get his heart broken again?

MY girl

Nikki and her new girlfriend make it official

1.Two Broken Souls

Y/N is heavier than her friends and suffers from it. They are constantly putting her down. Her parents are constantly fighting at home. Jughead Jones is the loner boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Both are broken and hurting. Will They find Solace in each other or will they both suffer in silence.

2. Death … and new chances

Y/N Andrews's best friend dies and she is opened to a new possibility for her son

1. Together: 

Alex Standall Smut (4)

2. Our kids …..

Y/N Jensen is ready to co-parent with her one night stand 

3. octavia blake x sister reader smut

4. Rebekah mikaelson x sister reader smut

[springdandelixn]

Hello, My Lovely Spring Rolls!

To celebrate such milestones in my personal (birthday! woot woot!) and tumblr (500 followers!) life, I will be hosting my first-ever (and hopefully the beginning of more) sleepover for all of us to enjoy!

I've only been actively posting my stories on this site since October 2022 and truthfully, you guys have been such a blast and I cannot thank you enough for the support and love you continuously give.

With that being said, I hope you would join me in this sleepover and make more memories together!

For this sleepover, we will be having 2 events; 1) Writing Challenge, and 2) Fic Requests.

🌻This challenge is only open to 18+. Minors, please DNI.

🌻The theme for this challenge is, you guessed it, SPRING! Not only is it on my tumblr name but it's my favorite season of all time. I know we are still far away from it but oh well.

🌻The sleepover will start on January 31st and end on March 31st (though my birthday is on the 7th of March huehue) No late submissions, please.

🌻This challenge is open to all genres BUT (and it's a big one) if you've been hanging around me for a while, you know what my preferences are—angst, smut, and dark.

🌻All tropes are allowed—Mafia, A/B/O, enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies, even step-cest if that's your vibe.

🌻Characters must ONLY be from the following fandom:

Game of Thrones - Jorah Mormont, Petyr Baelish or Jaime Lannister

MCU/Marvel - Vision, Loki, Thor, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner or Logan Howlett

DCU - Clark Kent or Bruce Wayne

Sebastian Stan Characters - Lee Bodecker or Steve Kemp

Chris Evans Characters - Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett, Andy Barber, Jake Jensen or Ari Levinson

Tom Hiddleston Characters - Jonathan Pine, James Conrad or Thomas Sharpe

Miscellaneous - Joel Miller (The Last of Us - Either Pedro Pascal or the video game character) or Samuel Drake (Uncharted)

🌻Reader insert only, no OFCs or ships. Sorry.

🌻Entries must be new and original. I will not allow any entries that are part of an ongoing series. If it is, make sure that it can be read as a stand-alone piece.

🌻There is no word limit but do make sure to add the Keep Reading line after 500 words.

🌻Please use the tag #rolling into spring writing challenge when posting your work and tag me in it. If I haven't reblogged it or given a comment within 24 hours after you've posted, shoot me a message.

🌻No Underage, Beastiality, Incest, Monster(??) and Water Sports.

🌻A prompt list will be provided for this challenge but it is not mandatory to use them. You can use them as a guide to help you kickstart your work. The most important thing is that your story has the element of Spring in it.

🌻I reserve the right to not read or interact with your work if it makes me uncomfortable or if you didn't abide by the rules. Warnings are a MUST and should be written appropriately.

🌻Any questions that you may have, my DMs are open. You can also join my discord server to engage with others and bounce off ideas with one another.

🌻Rules of the writing challenge pretty much apply here as well.

🌻I will be providing a dialogue prompt list for you to choose from. You can also suggest a trope or give me a brief description of your request.

🌻Please use this form when requesting a fic. Just so as not to crowd my ask box.

🌻Fics will only be written with dark themes. (sorrynotsorry)

Now that the ground rules have been laid, all that's left to do is to have fun! And I look forward to your requests as well as what you'll come up with for this event! Make me squirm and gimme hay fever! (okno) haha

Writing Challenge Prompts

Fic Request Prompts

[prpfs]

Please be 21+ to interact!!! ❤️

21+. She/Her. Looking for some various fandom roleplays. I'm only interested in canon x canon pairings. I have a strong preference for MxM ships, but I'm willing to do some FxF and MxF too. I like canon/canon divergent plots and write on Discord (third person, past tense, 200-400 words on average). I'm a sucker for romantic relationships and don't mind/encourage writing smut but with a healthy does of plot. I'll be sharing my strongest muses (the name on the left) for each and my greatest ship desires for them (the names on the right). I do have other muses, and I'm willing to discuss other ships. But, if you want me at my most enthusiastic, what I have listed is what I'm most interested in.

Doctor Who:

Eleventh Doctor - Jack, Rory, Clara

Fifth Doctor - Turlough, Ainley!Master

Fourteenth Doctor - Jack

Sixth Doctor - Ainley!Master

Tenth Doctor - Jack, Simm!Master

Fantastic Beasts Franchise:

Albus Dumbledore - Grindelwald, Theseus, Newt, Jacob

Theseus Scamander - Dumbledore, Grindelwald

Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon:

Beric Dondarrion - Thoros

Daemon Targaryen - Laenor, Criston, Otto, Rhaenyra (preferably before the 10-year time jump), Laena

Daenerys Targaryen - Margaery, Jaime, Jorah

Jaime Lannister - Bronn, Dany, Sansa

Margaery Tyrell - Dany, Sansa, Stannis, Joffrey

Petyr Baelish - Renly, Sansa

Roose Bolton - Stannis, Tywin, Sansa

Stannis Baratheon - Roose, Davos

Thoros - Beric

Tywin Lannister - Roose, Aerys II

Marvel:

Benjamin Poindexter - Ray, Matt, Karen

Bruce Banner - Tony, Natasha

Bucky Barnes - Zemo, Tony

Carol Danvers - Valkyrie

Eddie Brock - Venom, Wade, Andrew!Peter, Dan

Loki Laufeyson - Thor, Mobius, Grandmaster

Nathan Summers - Wade

Andrew!Peter Parker - Dane!Harry, Matt, Wade, Eddie, Tobey!Peter, Gwen

Ray Nadeem - Dex, Matt

Tony Stark - Bucky, Dr. Strange, Tom!Peter, Bruce

Wade Wilson - Eddie, Cable, Andrew!Peter, Comics!Peter, Dopinder, Colossus, Wolverine

Supernatural:

Arthur Ketch - Dean, Mick

Azazel - Sam, John

Chuck Shurley - Sam, Dean

Crowley - Dean, Bobby, Cas

Dean Winchester - Ketch, Crowley, Chuck, Benny, Lucifer, Garth

Lucifer - Dean, Sam, Nick

Mick Davies - Ketch, Sam

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Franchise:

Drayton Sawyer - Open to discussing whatever

Johnny Sawyer - Leland, Sonny, Julie

Nubbins Sawyer - Danny, Maria

Tex Sawyer - Open to discussing whatever

If you'd like to work something out, please message me (HIGHLY preferred) or like this post and I'll message you.

In either case, in your first message, please tell me about your writing style, what fandom(s) you were interested, and what ships you might be interested in or characters you were interested in writing against. I WILL NOT be responding to simple "I was interested in your ad" messages and other ones of that nature. 99% of the people who don't say much tend to eventually ghost me.

like if you're interested and op will reach out

[roleplayfinder]

About Me: 21+. She/Her. EST. I write on Discord but like to plot on Tumblr. I write in third person, past tense and around 2-4 paragraphs. I work full-time during the week so replies won't happen every day. I try to get them up as soon as possible and don't really expect more than 1 reply a week out of my writing partner because sometimes that's all I can do myself. Because of my limited amount of free time, I don't double.

Please read everything and be 21+ to interact!!!

What I'm Looking For: Threads for my five-ish biggest fandoms right now. I prefer canon x canon but will take on some canon x OC (I'm just picky with those so don't be offended if I turn your OC down). I'm open to MxM (my big preference for my male muses), MxF, or FxF. I like canon and canon divergent plots the most. As long as a plot could reasonably happen within the universe, I'll likely be okay with it. I'm open to writing NSFW/smut and do prefer romantic ships, but I'm also okay with keeping things clean.

I'll be listing my main muses for each fandom and some of my favorite ships (with my preferred muse in italics, if I have a preference). I'm more than open to discussing other ships, however. There's only a small chance I'll turn one down.

All characters will be 18+!

Doctor Who: Delgado!Master, Dhawan!Master, Eleventh Doctor, Fifth Doctor, Fourteenth Doctor, Second Doctor, Sixth Doctor, Tenth Doctor

Delgado!Master x Three

Dhawan!Master x Any Doctor

Eleven x Jack

Eleven x Clara

Five x Turlough

Fourteen x Jack

Two x Jamie

Ten x Jack

Ten x Simm!Master

Fantastic Beasts/Harry Potter: Albus Dumbledore (FB era), Barty Crouch Jr (Golden Trio era)., Cedric Diggory (Golden Trio era or AU where he survives), Cormac McLaggen (Golden Trio era or post-Hogwarts), Gilderoy Lockart (any era), Severus Snape (any era), Theseus Scamander (FB era)

Dumbledore x Grindelwald

Dumbledore x Newt

Dumbledore x Theseus

Barty x Lucius

Barty x Draco

Cedric x Harry

Cormac x Ron

Cormac x Hermione

Lockhart x Snape

Lockhart x Quirrell

Snape x Lucius

Snape x Harry

Snape x Lupin

Theseus x Newt

Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon: Alliser Thorne, Benjen Stark, Beric Dondarrion, Daemon Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen, Jaime Lannister, Margaery Tyrell, Petyr Baelish, Robb Stark, Roose Bolton, Stannis Baratheon, Thoros, Tywin Lannister, Yoren

Beric x Thoros

Daemon x Laenor

Daemon x Criston

Daemon x Viserys

Daemon x Laena

Daemon x Rhaenyra

Dany x Margaery

Dany x Jorah

Jaime x Sansa

Margaery x Sansa

Margaery x Roose

Margaery x Stannis

Margaery x Joffrey

Petyr x Renly

Petyr x Sansa

Robb x Roose

Robb x Jon

Robb x Theon

Roose x Stannis

Roose x Tywin

Roose x Sansa

Stannis x Davos

Marvel: Benjamin Poindexter, Billy Russo, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Carol Danvers, Eddie Brock, Frank Castle, Loki Laufeyson, Nathan Summers, Andrew!Peter Parker, Ray Nadeem, Remy LeBeau, Tony Stark, Wade Wilson

Dex x Ray

Dex x Billy

Dex x Matt

Dex x Karen

Billy x Frank

Billy x Karen

Bruce x Tony

Bucky x Zemo

Carol x Valkyrie

Eddie x Venom

Frank x Matt

Frank x Karen

Loki x Grandmaster

Loki x Thor

Loki x Mobius

Cable x Wade

Andrew!Peter x Tobey!Peter

Andrew!Peter x Matt

Andrew!Peter x Wade

Andrew!Peter x Male MJ

Andrew!Peter x Gwen

Gambit x Wolverine

Gambit x Rogue (canon female or genderbent male)

Tony x Strange

Tony x Tom!Peter

Tony x Steve

Wade x Wolverine

Wade x Dopinder

Wade x Comics!Peter

Wade x Matt

Wade x Colossus

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Charlie Hewitt Jr., Drayton Sawyer, Johnny Sawyer, Nubbins Sawyer

Johnny x Leland

Johnny x Sonny

Johnny x Nubbins

Johnny x Julie

Nubbins x Bubba

Nubbins x Sissy

If you'd like to work something out, please like this post. It may take me a few days to get back to you because I'm both wary and weary of being shadowbanned for sending too many similar messages at once.

.