#oberyn / reader

[hauntedfictionland]

❝His dear princess❞

☾︎✰❛❀ Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem! Reader!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jacaerys did not want you, or the vow he was bound to for life. Yet when he makes a big mistake, and potentially loses you for good. He realises just how much you meant to him.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Bastardphobia, mentions of death and grief, kissing, marrage of convenience and grumpy X sunshine trope, Jace is down bad, flirty!reader, guilt and anxiety and happy ending;)

🪐𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: This is one of my first house of the dragon fics ever, so I truly hope it's not too bad. Jacaerys is one of my favourite characters in hotd after Alicent so I really wanted to get his characteristics and behaviour right. Also, I didn't like the way they showed his grief after Luke died, as if he just moved on after two or three days. But overall, I enjoyed writing this:)

Jacaerys was infuriated with you.

You—his betrothed, acted like you owned the castle as soon as you strutted in. Speaking with no formality and a sharpness in your tongue that only infuriated him further. And especially when you did not seem to care for his heritage, who he was. The heir to the iron throne. Yet you acted as if he didn't exist to you. As if he meant nothing to you.

A marriage pact with the martells was only one of convenience. You, a princess of dorne, he, the firstborn son of queen Rhaenyra. Yet, they were stuck in dragonstone, and needed support to match the strength of the green armies. His mother needed this arrangement more than the martells did, and you made that very clear by acting carelessly and so freely, like you were in your own home. By taunting him, sitting at the great council table with your legs on them, a coin in your fingertips and a smirk in your lips. He hated it, he hated especially how good you looked.

He hated being betrothed to you already.

Rhaenyra had told him martells were rather, open and modern people. They took part in adultery even after being married, especially with the consent of their own partner. He did not know how anyone could be okay with such acts. He did not know what to expect when he met you, but it certainly wasn't how you commented on his face, calling him one of a beauty. It was inappropriate, calling a prince by such bold remarks on the first meeting, yet you did not seem to care.

But what edged him to his limit was the day you called him a bastard.

Jacaerys had been worried, he couldn't find you anywhere. Not that he cared, he was just stressed you would create another ruckus. He looked around everywhere, the garden, the great council, the dining hall, your room, even his room, but you were nowhere to be found. His chest tightened, a restlessness growing in his stomach. It seemed he always felt that way without being with you for too long. Not because he missed you—of course, but because he wanted to ensure everything was going smoothly.

He was going around circles, head spinning with a feeling that made him uncomfortable. Where were you? did you flee the castle? or were so bored of him you went to the city to a brothel in search of another man to keep you company. Anger and jealousy filled in his chest at the mere thought of that.

Jacaerys did not seem where he was going, many thoughts inside his head, before he harshly opened a door to the library. And to his surprise, there you were, a book in your hand. ‘Adventures of Aegon the conqueror’, he could read the name of the book by how you were holding it. He felt he could breathe again. By the loud sound of the door opening your head flitted towards him. Your usual smirk growing up your lips. Something that made his heart flutter in a way he didn't want it to. He clenched his jaw, holding his fists in a tight ball.

“Where have you been?” he asks, desperate tone in his voice.

“Ah, Prince Jacaerys.” you smile, closing the book and turning your attention towards him. He hated how your eye lashes fluttered, your hair falling down in just the perfect way. “I've been gaining some Targaryen knowledge, as you can see. Since we are to be married, I thought I should know my husband's family. Don't you think?”

Husband.

That word rose heat to his cheeks, quickly clearing his throat.

“I'm not your husband.” he spoke, in a tone harsher than he intended, “At least not yet anyway.”

You smile wider, making his heart race. He was always a bit stubborn, and uptight. Yet you were always so carefree and light, always so kind with his demise. He didn't know what to make of it all. A curious look grazed upon your face, eyebrows furrowing. You sat up, walking onwards another shelf of books, lips pursued. Before looking at him.

“I have always wondered, hmm,” you say, your finger coming up to your lips, “do tell me prince Jacaerys, is it true that you were born out of wedlock?”

His eyes widened, “What did you say to me?”

You either did not notice the offend and defensiveness in his tone, or simply pretend not to. Turning to look at him, “I mean, all Targaryen children have white hair. Do they not? Even if they did not, none of your formal parents have black, dark hair like yours.”

His breath hitches, all of the insecurities he had contained in a jar of fireflies fled out the second you brought out his hair. A wall rising inside him. You were acting as if you just did not ask the most dangerous question ever. As if it did not matter to you.

“How dare you insinuate such filthy claims?!” his voice rises, almost shouting. Your eyes flicker surprise for a moment, before turning back to the usual stoic look.

“Ah, you are offended.” you state, as if he shouldn't be, “I meant no harm, my prince. I have no problem with you being a bastard. In fact, it only makes you more interesting. The thing I don't like is your distaste for the truth. One should own up to who they are.”

Bastard.

You, called him a bastard. He isn't able to speak for a moment, too tongue—tied. You....think of him this way too? you? he can't hear as you speak further, a ringing in his head. It only intensifies. Only when you start talking about dorne is when he snaps back from his haze.

“And I have thousands of brothers and sisters back in dorne, no one cares ther—”

“I don't care, what you dornish do back there, but here you don't speak to me with filths of a claim.” he grits, his voice cold, “I am the queen's son. And if I hear you say one word about that again, I will see you hanged.” his words held so much malice in them, one would believe it to be true.

Of course, he could never actually do that, the blacks needed martells armies more than ever. His mother couldn't afford them raging war at her and joining the green's side. And, he could never harm you either. It was just a baseless threat, one he said out of anger and insecurity. He immediately regretted it when he saw the look on your face; hurt. But even worse, fear. Before he could even begin to take them back, it was too late. Your spot, where you stood, was already empty.

You had seen him less and less after that. Of course, you were your usual self. Taunting and teasing him, but something was off. Something distant. He hated it. He hated how much he missed it. Your remarks, your witty replies, your cockiness. He wanted it back. He wanted you back.

Next time he sees you, it's in a completely unexpected place. Dragon—pit. He was about to ride on Vermax to patrol the skies, when he stops. There you were, sat on the hard rock, legs swinging at the edge of it and his dragon's head in your hands. You..you were feeding him. “What the hell do you think you're doing?!” he shouts, eye wide.

You turn your head to him, a smirk on your lips grows. You enjoyed the fact he was on his nerves, furious.

“What does it look like? I'm feeding this cute little angel right here.” you coo, talking to his dragon in a baby voice. Vermax was known for her temper, yet with you it magically dis—appears? a little bit inside him was flustered, heart beating faster than ever that you and his dragon, a very important part of his life, bonded flawlessly. But he shrugs it off, he has to. Flushing over you isn't his duty.

Protecting you is.

As much as he would like to deny it, you're his now. Lawfully so. And he wouldn't let anything happen to you. Especially Vermax. He wouldn't know how to live with himself if his own dragon were to be the cause of, of.. your demise. His throat burns, even the mere thought of harm coming to you feels as if he's being drowned to death. After Luke, he cannot lose anyone. Jacaerys cannot lose you. Even if that was the first thing he tried to do after meeting you. You were the most part of his frustrations yet the only thought when he's in his bed at night.

“Have you lost your mind?” he asks, his voice harsh, as if you were his child and he was scolding you for doing something childish.

“Have you had no fear? you could have died what were you even thinking?!” you falter for a moment, upon seeing the trembling of his hands and the tightness in his voice.

“Jacaerys—”

“No!” he interrupts you, “You, you could have been...do you even realise..”

Your eyes widened as he struggled to even breath, huffing for air anxiously. You quickly get up, walking towards him. He's so much inside his head that he doesn't notice your hands coming up his face, slinging through his dark curly hair. An act that slowed and claimed his beating heart down. Your soft palms make contact with both his cheeks, a peaceful shush in your voice and he finally breathes. Properly. He sighed, eyes closing as his hands came up to hold yours.

This, you, him? this felt oddly peaceful. This felt like home. Vermax watches the whole interaction with a quiet huff, turning away back to the pits. You nudge closer towards him, resting your forehead against his. Love. This felt like love. “Promise me” he starts out, his voice low and timid, “promise you will never do that again.” Instead of putting on a fight like you usually do, you nod, gently caressing his cheek. His head leaned further into your touch, putty in your hands.

“I promise.”

That, gives him great relief. “Good.”

Time seems to slow down, Jacaerys could count every freckle on your nose to cheeks, every small cut in between your knuckles or lips, every curve of smile you put on. And all the scents coming from your body that drove him crazy. You notice his lips still trembling, and above your judgement, you decide to kiss it better. He inhales a sharp breath as your lips touch his, but makes no movement to push you away. It's gentle, barely brushing against his. Jacaerys realised how they fit perfectly amidst his, and how much he was craving it all these months until he finally tasted them.

You slowly pull away, hesitantly. His eyes are still closed. Hands crawling up your waist. He speaks again, a whisper almost.

“I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

He's talking about the library, and you smiled softly, shaking your head.

“It's okay. You can't get rid of me that easily, Jace. Should have known that when you got betrothed to a dornish princess.”

You had already forgiven him. But he didn't want you to. He didn't want to be at your mercy this easily, not when he wasn't able to forgive himself. You, you had crept your way into his heart when he didn't want you to, and now he never wanted to let you go. It was all your fault.

“No I...” he shakes his head, “I never should have said that. Not only because it was so wrong but also because it was completely untrue.” Jacaerys swallows his breath, every bit of him wanted to turn away and never look back, but he couldn't do that. “I have been called names, about my heritage. Ever since I was a child. About my parenting and what not. And it's very...when anyone talks about it, it's like a bandage ripping off a new and fresh wound. No matter how many years pass by, it's still like that for me.”

You nod your head slowly, in understanding. This was raw. He had finally told you one of his darkest parts, his worst fears, and you hadn't run away.

“I understand. I should have never said that. I did not know it was like this for you.” He feels relief in your words.

But there was still something he needed to let out.

“But I...” he didn't know how hard this was for him until he started to actually say it, “I really could never mean it. What I said. Even if you have committed the worst treason or crime, even if you had taken my heart and carved it out, I still wouldn't be able to do one thing that might be even close to harming you. Believe me I have tried. And I have failed.”

He looks away from you, cheeks closing red. Jacaerys had just poured his heart out and gave it to you. But the chances of you, and feeling the same? were very dim. He sees stars when he sees you, what do you see? just him? or even worse? a filth in the name of a true born prince. A gasp leaves his lips as your fingers trace the outlines of his jaw, trailing down to his neck to his chest. You stopped at the red and black three dragons symbol made on the polish cloth he wore.

“Why do you think I agreed to this marriage? not because of this.” you point to the very symbol engraved on his chest, of the house targaryen, “If it was just for this, I certainly would have never.”

He turns his head back to you, confusion in his face. He also feels a bit of guilt in him. At first, he only agreed to this pact because his mother had no choice. Because of your house. Nothing else. And you're saying that his house didn't even matter to you when you agreed to this betrothal? then why? you did not even know what he looked like, and you simply agreed?

“Why then?”

That's the question that's now left in him. Why, if his house and title didn't matter?

“Well,” your lips curl up, a glint in your eyes, as a blush arose your cheeks, “From years I had heard stories of Targaryen princes. How arrogant and unkind they were, your cousins, Aegon and Aemond, well I certainly didn't hear anything good about them. And then you came. The velaryon prince, the son of the realm's delight, born with a kind heart and a fierceness to protect. I knew I had to marry someday, but I only agreed to marry you because I knew—you wouldn't mistreat me. Because I fell in love with the stories of the dark haired prince who had the most beautiful brown eyes ever, who protected his brother when he was a child himself, who stole my heart before he even claimed it.”

Jacaerys doesn't know what to say, his throat falls dry. It doesn't feel real, when he's wanted something so dearly and someone just gives it to him freely; it does not feel real. You do not feel real. But you are. He knows you are when your hands tug at his collar, his face close to you as you pull him towards you and your breath fanning on his cheeks. He knows this is real, and it's better than any dream he's ever had.

“I do not want our marriage to be an unhappy one.”

You say, a plea in your voice.

He smiles, wide. And he doesn't even have to make an effort this time, “For me, the words unhappy and you? well they don't go in the same sentence.”

That seals it for you, he can see that. As you kiss his words, an unspoken understanding and passion in it. Jacaerys realises he could get used to this. Kisses, hugs, reading each other books, waking by the warmth of your body besides his; in fact, there's no one else he'd rather do it by. And nothing he would want more.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑚:) 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛! 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒.

[novaursa]

The List Of My HOTD Reader Insert Works:

The list received a makeover. There is no longer a second one. All is here, in one place.

Requests are closed! Please stop sending them to me, and respect me enough to understand how I'm unable to be doing anything outside my schedule right now!

Aegon II Targaryen

Helaena Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Daeron Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Jacaerys Velaryon

Daemon Targaryen

Baela Targaryen

Otto Hightower

Gwayne Hightower

Alicent Hightower

Cregan Stark

Harwin Strong

Criston Cole

Tyland Lannister

Davos Blackwood

The List Of My ASOIAF Reader Inserts Works:

Oberyn Martell

Aerys II Targaryen

Rhaegar Targaryen

Arthur Dayne

Robb Stark

Sansa Stark

Jon Snow

Euron Greyjoy

Tywin Lannister

Tyrion Lannister

Robert Baratheon

Eddard Stark

Brandon Stark

Lyanna Stark

Roose Bolton

Jaqen H'ghar

Styr the Thenn

Ser Duncan the Tall - A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

The List Of My FAB Reader Insert Works:

Aegon I Targaryen

Visenya Targaryen

Rhaenys Targaryen

Maegor I Targaryen

Torrhen Stark

Orys Baratheon

Aegon (The Uncrowned) Targaryen

Daemon I Blackfyre

Aerion Targaryen (Brightflame)

Dune Crossover

Requests are closed!

About Me

[palioom]

little dove

summary: your first attendance of a huge feast is bothersome, alone and inexperienced as you are. until the eyes of a certain prince won't stop following you.

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; virginity/innocence kink; implied age gap (oberyn is in his early 40s, reader early 20s); fingering; unprotected p in v; creampie; some biting

a/n: another fic from last summer, hope you enjoy! ; headers & dividers by @/saradika-graphics

follow @palioomfics & turn on notifs for future updates

• masterlist •

Oberyn had been watching her all night already, his dark eyes following the shape of her wherever she went. Between the bustle of the people, her bright orange glowing dress like the sun, rising and settling as she appeared and disappeared, standing around like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

It was adorable, a smirk gracing his features as he watched her wring her hands, smiling sheepishly when someone approached her. 

So innocent.

He could see the nervousness on her face from where he sat, the uncertainty, clearly not used to people approaching her.

He could see the heavy rise and fall of her chest, exposed by the deep cut of her garments.

Taking another sip of his wine, Oberyn stood, deciding now was his time.

The festivities had been going on for a while, and even though he had planned on celebrating with a group of people in his bedchambers later, she had thrown those plans into the wind the second he set sight on her.

Something just intrigued him, maybe it was the innocence she seemed to harbour, maybe it was her beauty.

Whatever it was, he had to know more, waiving away another woman that approached him with a polite smile, then walking over to the mysterious woman.

She looked around nervously, playing with the rings on her hands as people passed by her, some stopping to talk to her.

Feeling incredibly out of place at this feast, her first big one, she didn't quite know what to do. Her parents were somewhere, as were her siblings.

The lords trying to speak to her made her feel uneasy, knowing she was supposed to find a possible suitor at some point, but wanting nothing more than to flee this place.

In fact, she was thinking about just leaving, when she was approached again.

Tall, dark haired and handsome. The Prince of Dorne, Oberyn Martell.

She had seen him at his table, stealing a glance every once in a while and looking away when his dark eyes caught hers.

And now he stood in front of her, flashing her a wide smile.

“My Prince.” She said, curtsying as well as she could, perhaps a little clumsily. 

Out of everything she had expected to happen today, she did not expect for him to approach her.

“Do you intend to sulk in the shadows all night, my dove?”

She blinked up at him, once again playing with the rings on her fingers.

“I have not been sulking.” A frown graced her face, a slight tremble in her voice. His presence was intimidating, but different from the other people who had approached her. “I have been observing.”

Oberyn chuckled, taking a small step closer to her, watching her step back just a little in return. So close to her, he could practically feel the nervosity radiating off of her, trying to hold eye contact before they moved away again, looking at anything but him.

“Observing by turning down all lords and ladies who approach you?” He said, watching her fingers stop for just a moment, as if she had been caught, before fiddling with her rings again. “I must admit, I have been watching you for a while - you are the only lady not dancing, not talking to anyone. Just standing in your corner, sometimes moving to follow the servants for a drink or something to eat.”

She stayed quiet. Had she been that noticeable? Just by standing around, hoping for a saving grace?

“I assume this to be your first attendance at a feast this big, am I correct, my dove?”

That nickname.

It made her feel warm, a different kind of warmth than the Dornish weather. Running through her in an unfamiliar fashion, her veins like molten metal, a strange feeling moving up her spine..

“Yes, my Prince.” She said, nodding, but not looking at him.

Oberyn noticed how she became more nervous, smirking at the display in front of him.

“My parents have kept me from them for long, I was only ever allowed to attend small ones.” She continued, sighing. “It is quite overwhelming. I am inexperienced in these kinds of things.”

Her words made him inhale sharply through his nose, still smiling.

If she was inexperienced in this, what else was she inexperienced in?

He had wanted her before, but now the desire for her burned even brighter. Oberyn wanted to show her the things her parents have undoubtedly sheltered her from.

To keep their daughter pure for a potential suitor.

“I understand, my dove. Would you perhaps allow me to accompany you to a place more quiet?”

Usually, he did not beat around the bush when it came to a potential partner for the night.

But it was different with her. If he was blunt he would simply chase her away.

She didn’t look at him, thinking about his question.

All the other men and women that had asked before had made her feel uneasy. Unsure why they wanted to whisk her away, promising a better night someplace else.

But the Prince of Dorne? He made her feel different. A heat and a pressure in her abdomen that she never felt before.

She knew of the rumours, that he took many partners, for whatever they did. Yet, as he stood in front of her, charming smile and good looks, she felt herself drawn to him.

Oberyn reached out, placing a finger under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “I asked you a question, my dove.”

His fingers on her chin made her still, just looking up at him with her big eyes, lips slightly parted. The touch made that pressure worse, breath hitching in her throat.

“My Prince, I’m-” She stumbled over her words, unsure what to answer.

He just chuckled, a sigh leaving him. “You are quite easily flustered, my dove. Come with me, please.”

Holding out his arm for her to take, he hoped she would. Such an innocent, pretty thing. There was something so endearing about the way she was behaving.

She swallowed hard, looking from his face to his arm, hesitating for a moment. Something drew her to him, and after another moment, she hooked her arm into his with a nervous smile.

Oberyn walked her away from the feast, the noises dying down behind them as they walked the long corridors.

“What did the other lords and ladies ask of you, my dove?” 

She sighed, glad to be away from the bustle in the halls, but feeling uncertain now, a throbbing at the apex of her thighs distracting her.

“They wished to take me away for some fun. I’m unsure what they meant exactly.” She didn’t look at him, too nervous to meet his dark, piercing eyes. 

It was intimidating, she had never been in the presence of a man other than her father or her brothers alone. She knew how to behave, for the most part, but nonetheless was it a little scary.

Oberyn smirked, looking down to her, seeing how she only stared at the floor or ahead of them. 

“You did not know what they were implying?” He asked, a bit amused but genuinely curious. “My little dove, you must be younger than I thought or your parents simply were too careless with your education.”

She remained quiet, her cheeks growing hot. 

A sense of shame washed over her, that he thought she was too young. It was as if her friends were with her, giggling and whispering because of something she didn’t understand.

And when she asked, they never explained, finding it too amusing to laugh and belittle her.

There was something she was missing out on, and she hated not knowing what.

“My dove, you do not have to be ashamed.” He said, his other hand coming to gently rest on hers. “If you wish, I could show you.”

He had been right about the assumptions of her being a virgin, too innocent for her own good.

Walking next to her, he felt something else besides the desire for her, a need to protect.

As if he was the only one allowed to show her, that anyone else would simply take advantage of this fact.

Now her eyes met his, brows furrowed. 

“Show me?” She echoed his words. “How? What exactly?”

Oberyn just smiled, eyes leaving hers to look at the guards standing by the door of his chambers.

He stopped, not too far away from the door, looking back at her.

“Do you wish for me to show you, my dove?” He asked, brushing back a strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “If not, I understand.”

She should be wary. Despite him being the Prince of Dorne, she should think about this. But she was curious, so curious about what this thing was that she had been missing out on.

And there was still that feeling inside of her.

“Yes, my Prince.” She said with a small nod. “I am curious, please.”

He chuckled, his knuckles brushing over her cheek. “Please, call me Oberyn, my dove.”

Moving along, the guards allowed them to enter, the heavy door falling shut behind them. Oberyn let go of her arm, walking over to a table to pour himself some wine, then offering her a cup.

She took it with a small nod, taking in his quarters. They were richly decorated, the bed massive.

Just how she would imagine it, if she had ever spent time on that before meeting him.

Taking a sip of her wine, Oberyn laid a hand on her waist with a gentle smile, pulling her closer to him.

“Most people stare when they first come here.” He said, his hand wandering up and down her side. “Don’t be nervous, little dove.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. That was easier said than done, the heat inside her becoming unbearable at this point.

His hand on her side felt like it was burning her, even through the thin fabric of her gown. Like it was hot coals placed on her.

“Have you ever been kissed, my dove?” He asked suddenly, eyes searching hers. Pulling her just a little closer to him.

She shook her head no, slowly. Heart beating in her throat, he was so close to her. 

She could feel the warmth of him, twirling the cup of wine in her hand.

“Would you allow me to?”

There was some hesitation inside her, her hands stilling. Should she allow him to? She wanted to, somehow.

Often had she imagined what it felt like, kissing someone.

Her answer came in the form of a nod, her head barely moving.

Oberyn smiled, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

“Oh, my little dove.”

Despite his growing desire, he moved gently, bending down to place his lips onto hers. The small gasp that left her made him chuckle, his other hand coming to rest on her hip and pull her hips flush against his.

She stiffened beneath his touch, liking the way his lips felt on hers, surprisingly soft, while his beard and moustache tickled her skin. Holding onto her cup tightly, she closed her eyes, humming when he deepened the kiss and she tried to match his movements, clumsy and inexperienced.

When he parted from her, she chased after him, opening her eyes when she couldn’t. Oberyn laughed at that, staying close to her, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

She looked adorable, the way she greedily breathed in air, lips slightly parted. Still too nervous, too stiff.

“What do you think, my dove?” He asked, leaning closer again so their noses were almost touching. “Would you like for me to show you more? There is quite an array of things I could assist you with.”

His fingers curled into her hip, and when she nodded, he only smiled wider.

“I promise to be gentle, my dove. A beauty such as you needs to be handled with care.”

She didn’t know what he meant, but it didn’t matter, because as soon as he kissed her again, more eager this time, her mind went blank.

His hand briefly left her hip to take the cup from her hands, placing it on the table next to them, before it was back, pulling her against his chest and making her gasp.

Letting his tongue glide against hers at the opportunity, Oberyn heard her muffled moan, relishing in the sweet sound.

The way she tried to kiss him back was delightful, so tender and new, trying to keep up with him.

Slowly he manoeuvred her back towards the bed, having to hold onto her waist as her steps became unsure, stumbling backwards once, her cheeks glowing even hotter.

The throbbing only became more intense, and when they reached the bed and he gently pushed her to sit at the foot of it, she squeezed her thighs together, looking for relief.

There was a wetness now that felt foreign to her.

Oberyn noticed, amused at the display.

“Are you aching, my dove?” He asked, his hands coming to the belt tied around his waist.

Aching.

It did hurt, but in a different way. Not like a bruise or a cut.

She nodded. “A little. My Prince- Oberyn, what- I don’t understand what is happening.”

Poor thing. Her parents had done a horrible job to prepare their daughter.

To leave her in the dark at such an age.

She watched him undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor before motioning for her to move further back to the middle of the bed.

“You’re aroused, my dove. You feel the need for cock.” He explained, shedding his robe, then crawling over her. “Have you seen a cock before, little dove?”

Her mouth went dry as she watched him undress, now only clad in a dark orange tunic and his breeches. 

Aroused.

Of course. But was she really aroused by him? In need of his cock?

She nodded, and she could see a flash of surprise grace his features. 

“In the bathhouses, yes.” She tried to hold his gaze, now hovering over her and letting his hand glide down her side. “From afar.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her cheek, then her neck, hearing the breathy moan spill from her lips, feeling her back arch slightly.

“In the bathhouses…” He repeated in a whisper, still some amusement in his voice. “Yet you don’t know a thing about this… about desire and fucking.”

The word felt vulgar, so close to her ear.

And she felt embarrassed again. That she didn’t know more, that she didn’t understand she was aroused just by him being near her, by him kissing her, by him hovering over her.

“Do you want me to show you, my dove? The thrill of desire?” He asked, still mouthing along her neck, gently, just feeling her as she squirmed, her own hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders. “How to fuck?”

Her breath hitched in her throat when he sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder, a throaty moan leaving her.

“I- I do not know, Oberyn.” She stammered, fingers digging into his shoulders. The throbbing and the pressure were distracting her, just needing relief. “It hurts, it really hurts.”

His hand moved lower, down her side and to her thigh, gathering her skirts before it dipped below them.

“I can help you, my dove.” His hand wandered between her thighs, finding her dripping already, a soft sound escaping him at the feeling. “Oh, my dove. Wet and gushing like a waterfall and I have barely touched you.”

He sounded pitying almost, his fingers slipping between her folds, raising his head to watch her face when he found her clit.

A hiss left her, looking at him with wide eyes at the foreign feeling. It felt good, strange but good.

“Have you never touched yourself before? Brought yourself to the peak of pleasure?” He asked, drawing slow circles into her clit, with featherlight touches. 

She shook her head, trying to keep her eyes open, her legs opening further.

“Never, I didn’t know-”

“You poor thing.” He cooed, kissing her. 

When his fingers left her again, she whined in protest, one of her hands reaching out to grab his wrist. 

She didn’t even really know what was happening, simply that his touch felt good and that she wanted more.

Needed more.

The burning sensation inside her was so consuming and overwhelming while also hurting her.

“Oberyn, please, continue.” She said, guiding his hand back down but he escaped her grasp. 

“Do you know anything about this, my dove? About fucking, the feeling of something stretching you open? Feeling somebody’s naked skin against yours?”

Stretching her open? It sounded painful, she couldn’t imagine how anything could do that, and where.

But she didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to embarrass herself further.

She shook her head again. “No, I don’t.”

He chuckled, his hand coming up to tug one of the straps of her gown down her shoulder, then further down her arm, exposing her breast.

“My little dove, so innocent, so pure.” A sigh left him, watching her face as he touched her breast, just lightly brushing over the hardened nipple. Nothing could have prepared him for just how much her innocence spurred him on. “I will take care of you, just allow me to do so.”

“Please, please, Oberyn.” She whined, desperate. His hand felt good on her, back arching off the bed and into his touch, her head thrown back as she closed her eyes.

This was what she had missed out on, something so good and intense. If only he could touch her again.

Slowly Oberyn undressed her, slipping the garment down her body and kissing each inch of newly uncovered skin. Taking in how she whined and moaned, took in a sharp breath or hissed at the sensation.

She felt exposed, once he sat back and pulled the gown down her legs, his dark eyes raking over her naked form as she laid before him, resisting the urge to cover herself.

So sweet and pure. And he would be the one to ruin her, to taint her beautiful body.

Thank the Gods it was him and not someone else.

“So pretty.” He said, a hand gliding up and down her thigh, the other working open his tunic. “My little dove, all for me to enjoy. I shall show you the heights of pleasure.”

She watched as he shed the garment, exposing his toned torso, the muscles under his skin moving. She was mesmerized, despite having seen this so many times at the bathhouses, when she came to find her siblings or her parents.

His hands moved down to his breeches, opening them just as slowly as he had done with the rest of his clothing.

“It seems as if my little dove has found something she likes.” He chuckled, shedding the last piece of clothing, kneeling between her spread legs, just as exposed as she was.

Cock heavy and throbbing, her eyes were fixed on it.

It was bigger than what she had seen before. But she didn’t know if she should mind that.

“Don’t be scared, my dove.” Oberyn said, moving to hover over her again, one hand on her thigh, his cock brushing against her stomach. “I’ll prepare you to take me.”

“Take me?” She asked, gasping when his hand found that sweet spot again, applying more pressure this time and leaving her breathless.

He hummed against her neck, kissing and sucking on her skin, taking in her sweet sounds.

So adorable, needing to be taught. Not knowing what pleasures awaited her.

His hand moved lower and he felt how she stiffened when one finger pressed against her hole.

“Don’t be scared…” He repeated, slowly pushing a single digit in, groaning when he felt her squeeze around him, her nails digging into his shoulders with a whine.

It felt strange, his thick finger inside of her, moving in and out slowly. Yet it also felt good, her hips rolling on their own, legs opening wider.

“Oberyn-” She moaned, voice breaking, the pressure inside her easing just a little. 

His mouth found hers again, continuing to move his finger slowly, his cock twitching at the thought of burying himself inside her soon.

“Tell me how it feels, little dove. You might be ready for another finger soon.”

She whined, concentrating on the foreign feeling, the stretch when he pushed a second finger in.

“It feels good, my Prince- Oberyn.” She breathed, her mind feeling as if it was floating on a cloud, hissing when he scissored his fingers inside of her. “It hurts a little, but it feels good.”

He chuckled, kissing her cheek and down to her jaw, then down her neck again.

“My dove, you feel splendid, gripping my fingers so tight with your sweet cunt.”

Something inside her built, blood hot like molten metal as it rushed through her, building her higher and higher until he took his fingers from her again.

A noise of protest died in her throat, his teeth softly sinking into her shoulder.

He grinned at that, lifting his head to look at her, bringing his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a deep hum.

“Finer than any wine.” Oberyn said, positioning himself so his cock was lined up with her. “My dove, I promise to be gentle. It may sting nonetheless.”

She nodded, drowsy and wanting nothing more than this ache to end. He said his cock would help, and so she wished for nothing more than him to enter her where his fingers just had been.

“Please, help me relieve this ache.” She said, feeling him against her, so much thicker than his fingers.

Oberyn watched as he entered her, grunting at how tight she still was, seeing her eyes squeeze shut and take a sharp breath.

It stung, he hadn’t lied about that, his lips finding hers as he pushed in further, muffling her whimpers while he buried inch after inch inside of her.

All the way until he was fully sheathed inside of her, hips flush against hers, one of his hands coming to rest on her thigh, squeezing it gently.

“It hurts, Oberyn.” She breathed when he broke from her, looking back at him, his lips on her cheek again.

“I know, my dove. You will feel better soon, don’t you worry.”

It was so new, the sensation of being filled, of him inside of her and stretching her out just as he had said.

Overwhelming, someone being so close to her, inside of her, his hot skin against hers, his soft lips on her cheeks.

The pain slowly fading into a need, the throbbing returning, as did the pressure.

Her hips moving on their own, making him chuckle, the sound vibrating against her chest. 

“Are you sure you wish to continue already, my dove?” He asked, kissing a spot just below her ear that sent a shiver through her. “I cannot stop myself if we do, your cunt is simply too tight and inviting.”

She nodded, whispering a silent please.

So he slowly pulled back, setting a lazy rhythm of shallow thrusts, her dragged out moans like music to his ears, a little symphony written just for him as he drove back into her over and over again.

“You feel perfect, my dove, what an honour to teach you about the pleasures of the flesh.” Oberyn groaned, his hands grabbing her legs and wrapping them around his hips, making her whimper loudly. “You won’t find a nicer cunt than that of this little virgin dove.”

She let him move, rolling her hips, trying to meet his thrusts, that something inside her building again, becoming stronger this time.

If this really was what she had been missing out on, what she had been ridiculed for, she never wanted it to stop now that she had it.

The feeling pleasant as the ache became less and less present.

Oberyn had to hold back to not just drive into her with his entire force, losing himself in how good she felt, but still wanting this to be something good for her, as much as he desired her.

Already knowing he would seek her out again and again, her innocence far from gone, her sounds so sweet in his ears, her hands so soft as they grabbed at him, trying to find purchase on his body.

“My dove, you are close, I can feel you.” He rasped, his movements becoming sloppier, lips dancing over her skin. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Close to what?” She asked, words catching on her breath, feeling something but unsure if it was what he meant.

Gods, she was so adorable.

“Oh, you will see, my dove.”

His hand moved between them, finding her clit.

And with just a few movements, something snapped inside of her so suddenly and with such force that all breath left her, a strangled noise catching in her chest as her veins burned, the pressure in her abdomen released. 

She was trembling, holding him against her tightly as he kept moving, thrusts harsher now.

“There you are, my little dove, isn’t that wonderful? The heights, the peak?”

It was a pretty sight, her face contorted in bliss and pleasure but also so shocked by what was happening to her, by these new feelings.

She could only whine, falling silent when she heard him grunt deeply into her ear, stilling above her.

Spilling himself deep inside of her before rolling off of her, not separating but rolling her with him so she came to rest on top of him.

She felt exhausted suddenly, the euphoric feelings still coursing through her veins.

And he felt solid beneath her body, catching his breath just as she did, his hands carding through her hair.

“Now, my dove, how do you feel?” He asked, watching her face as she rested on him. “Are you satisfied?”

If anyone had told her just a few hours ago that she would land in the bed of the Prince of Dorne, she would have laughed at them.

But now, it seemed quite nice.

She nodded. “I feel exhausted, but I am very grateful for what you showed me.”

A smile stretched her lips wide, he liked it. She seemed to be less nervous.

He chuckled, one hand wandering down to smooth over her back. Normally he would be far from done, already planning another round of pleasure.

But she truly seemed too exhausted by this. After all, she hadn’t even known about any of this until now.

Her eyes drifted shut, but she was still awake, listening to his heartbeat.

“Oh, my dove.” He said quietly, kissing the top of her head. “There is so much more to show you, I am far from done with you.”

She felt warm at the idea, curious what else there was to discover. Her eyes felt too heavy to open them again, slowly drifting off into sleep on top of him.

Oberyn simply smiled, sighing deeply.

Yes, he was far from done. 

There was so much to learn, so much to discover.

And he couldn’t wait to see her face once he began to truly teach his little dove.

[oscarisaacsspit]

i’ll be like “need him so bad it makes me stupid” and it’s this guy:

[missyorkswhore]

Pedro Pascal with weapons, this is the post

[zialltops]

but especially when he’s this joel in wranglers & a cowboy hat 😏

[i-smoke-chapstick]

saw that you're in your got era so perhaps jealousy headcanons for the got or hotd characters? 👀 literally anyone from these characters - robb, jaime, margaery, oberyn, theon, cersei or ramsay, I'd love to see your interpretation on any of them ! ( or aemond, alicent, aegon, gwayne, OTTO !!, larys, daemon or mysaria for hotd, again whichever era you feel like it !!) and just for future reference, do you write for asoiaf characters or mainly the shows?

'LOVE CAN KILL, [jealousy! hcs]

-GOT / HOTD CHARACTERS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Robb, Jaime, Margaery, Oberyn, Cersei, Joffrey, Ramsay, Tyrion, The Hound, Aemond, Aegon, Alicent, Gwayne, Daemon

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; jealousy, and how some characters deal with it ;)

⋆ tags/warnings. GOT and HOTD!characters x female reader. SFW! But naturally, some of these characters get a bit suggestive! Possessive behavior, canon typical violence, etc. Please send in more GOT/HOTD requests! Apologies this took so long, this is more characters in a post than I've ever done lol. Unfortunately I'm not super familiar with Otto, Larys, Theon, or Mysaria, so I decided to pick some characters I'm more familiar with! (Joffrey is my #1 favorite of all time, my sincerest apologies.) Whew, 14 characters ! For right now I'm only writing for the TV shows! (i've only read book 1, lol)

𝑅𝛰𝐵𝐵 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐾

♫ “I wasn't thinking when I told you to stay.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

With Robb, it's all about the body language. And boy, he's horrible at hiding it.

He can have a hard time placing the feeling as jealousy. He was raised to be honorable. But feelings of...neglect run deep with him. Oldest child syndrome, if you will.

Which is why his jealousy most likely manifests in subdued, quiet behavior. Part of him will recognize he's being ridiculous, while another part of him is silently fuming. Fists clenched, he'll send you an intense stare as he watches you converse with another lord.

His emotions leak through his expressions. When he catches you staring back, his gaze will flit down, and he'll wait patiently for you're time. Or...in most cases...he'll march right up, placing himself between you and the man. Maybe a small, "I'll take it from here." If the lord is offering to help you with something.

A subtle touch on the small of your back. It's a small claim, a subtle "back-off."

A lot of his jealousy also transforms into protectiveness more than anything. He'll offer to accompany reader to places he wouldn't normally be concerned about. He's close by, and he's reminding her wordlessly, he's watching over her and any threat.

Finally, when you two are alone, will he drop down that guard of his. Covering up that burning pit inside him with casual humor, you can sense the underlaying seriousness of his voice in his light teases.

"You’re quite popular these days. Should I be worried that I’m not your only admirer?"

He certainly beds you, having something to prove. And only afterwards when you are in his arms, sweaty and warm from the candlelight, wrapped in furs...will he calm down.

"It’s not that I don’t trust you… It’s them I don’t trust. Some men don’t know how to keep their place." He'll whisper, holding onto you firmly.

𝐽𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “You don't know that you're in over your head.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Jaime's jealousy is burning. It's simply the way he was raised. And gods, you are his.

Numerous sarcastic remarks flow between the two of you and the man who he believes has essentially stolen your affections. His taunts are offhand, dry remarks, often directed towards his "opponent" or even you, if he's feeling bitter enough.

"I didn’t realize he was such a comedian. Maybe I should ask him for pointers." He'll say, with that sarcastic drawl. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to make me jealous. Not that it would work, of course." He chuckles, but his gaze is sharp.

Depending on the offense, Jaime's reactions differ. If you simply have an admirer, a few...well chosen words are directed towards them. His confidence allows him to not be too bothered. Maybe standing closer, clearly showing off to whatever poor soul thought they had a shot with you.

It's a different story if you are friends with the person involved, or entertain their advances even mildly or jokingly.

That's when the uncharacteristic tension comes out, full of small twitches in his jaw and curt, smug responses. His visible annoyance is uncontrolled.

We saw how he was with Loras when it came to Cersei. If he feels truly threatened, whether it's by another pretty boy, or just someone he feels could...hypothetically...have the upper hand...He'll corner them when you're off somewhere else. And give a small warning, from the Kingslayer himself.

"You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with, so let me remind you." He leans in just close enough for his words to sink in. "Whatever you think you might be to her… you’re not. Let’s keep it that way, hm? I'd hate to see you make any...lasting mistakes."

𝑀𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝐸𝑅𝑌 𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐸𝐿𝐿

♫ “It was just too hard to push you away.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Margaery is smart with her feelings. She knows how to play the game, and play it well. Instead of showing her jealousy openly, she's a touch more composed than most characters on this list.

She recognizes just how precious you are, and admires that. She doesn't necessarily blame others when they become...attached to you.

When jealousy arises, she views it more as a small problem in need of being handled. And she knows how to handle things.

She embraces the graceful competition, subtly outshining anyone who seems to get in the way of her goals. Her goal being you're affection, of course. You're already hers, and she sees no problem in working to keep it that way.

This appears in gestures of strategic sweetness to keep you close, perhaps wearing your favorite gowns on her, and offering that charming smirk. She doesn't shy away from manipulating you, just a teeny bit.

"They’re certainly captivated by you. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to keep your attention." She teases, "Besides, who could ever compare to us?"

Her words carry a playful undertone, but she makes her point clear. Laughing charmingly, threading her arm through yours.

Very rarely does she think she's in any serious danger. She prides herself on being yours and knowing how to keep you on a tight leash. Though...if she feels genuinely worried, she expresses her feelings quite clearly but still gently. She reminds her lover of their shared goals, and all that they've built together.

"My, you do attract admirers easily, don’t you? I’ll have to start guarding you more closely." She gives you a playful look, though her touch on your arm will linger just a bit longer than usual.

𝛰𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑌𝑁 𝑀𝐴𝑅𝑇𝐸𝐿𝐿

♫ “Let me go, but you won't let me go.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oberyn doesn't feel insecure. How could he? He knows, deep down, that you're his. Jealousy isn't something he confines himself too, he views it as an ugly emotion, capable of getting rid of the true wonders love has to offer.

That being said...he is only a man. And he is fiercely protective. If anyone were to flirt with you and you were clearly uninterested, it would be a swift death, or at the very least, he'd make his point clear with a blow or two and a cutting edge remark. Especially if they are a Lannister. He enjoys you being admired, but only to a certain extent.

"Your efforts are wasted, they’re far too captivating for someone like you. I’d suggest you find someone more... suited to your charms." He begins, hand itching for his spear, "Consider this your first and last warning."

Yeah, he means business.

Most of the time, he spins the situation to show-off. Showcase his own passion and devotion to you. If it's simply a friend of yours, he may even offer them to join in. If not, he'll spend the entire night practically worshipping you, promising that he's the only one who could ever make you feel like this.

Similarly to Margaery, he teases you lightly.

"You have a lovely laugh. But I must admit, it’s much better when it’s for me alone."

Oberyn doesn't shy away from PDA either. It's that assertive reclaiming he seems to favor, pulling you close, whispering something that affirms your affections for each other. He'll revel when he watches the other mans face fall in dismay.

He might get cocky, and push it a bit far. By the time he's done, the 'competition' will be utterly humiliated and embarrassed. He'll be smirking at his own quips.

"I assure you, my friend, my lover favors...more substantial things." He motions to the poor mans crotch.

You're gonna have to give him a slap on the arm.

𝐶𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸𝐼 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “Consequence of loving me can be cruel.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Cersei's jealousy is intense and multifaceted, to say the least. It manifests in a mix of cold fury and harsh threats, channeling that anger into much more controlling behavior.

Deep down, she is terribly insecure. Once another man or woman as your attention, and she catches on, she's coolly lashing out. And she catches on quickly.

At first she may appear indifferent, but if you look close enough, you can see the subtly giveaways. The way her lip curls, her nostrils flare, and her knuckles go white gripping her wine chalice.

If you're the first one to confront her, and attempt to reassure her, you'll save yourself some trouble down the line. Guaranteed, she'll deny it, but still make a passive-aggressive remark here and there. But eventually she'll calm down, edges softening.

That rare moment of vulnerability that you're not sure is manipulation or not. She'll look towards the ground, running her thumb over you're hand on her cheek. She'll sit on the edge of her bed, jaw clenched.

Now, it's a whole different story if you don't catch on to the early signs. If you don't manage to reassure or call her out in time, that jealousy implodes.

She may confront you first, anger bleeding through her. She runs on it. She may even threaten you, oblivious to the potential consequences her words might have.

“You think you can charm your way into my affections by paying attention to that little fool?" She's standing up, loathing distorting her features. Her voice raises. "Perhaps I should throw a feast in her honor. Let’s see how charming she is when surrounded by my people."

It's threats and threats and more and more threats...which can be especially worrying if the person she's jealous of is a friend of yours.

Almost every scenario ends with you having to comfort her, treading carefully with the words you say.

Now, when it comes to confronting the competition, she makes it very clear. Though, these threats are often much more impulsive. A swig of wine, and she gracefully moves towards them when you're out of sight.

A faux compliment or two, before she whispers, close.

“You’ll find that my guards are quite loyal to me. A simple command, and they’ll ensure you never breathe the same air as her again.”

It only makes her feel a bit better. But, regardless, she's smiling smugly, feeling proud of herself when the offenders face turns white.

𝐽𝛰𝐹𝐹𝑅𝐸𝑌 𝐵𝐴𝑅𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸𝛰𝑁

♫ “Too much love can kill.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oh, Joffrey. I'm obsessed with him.

Yeah. He has the worst jealousy issues out of everyone on this list. It's baaaaad. It's a cocktail of insecurity, possessiveness, and entitlement. As someone who has been raised to believe he is above others, and has been coddled his entire life...it infuriates him.

It's the same feeling you get as a child, when someone steals one of your toys. You belong to him. He never grew out of that mentality, or that feeling.

Be prepared for plentiful outbursts of anger. He's a tantrum personified, especially if he feels disrespected. Insecurity grips him tight and refuses to let up until he's either been heavily reassured...or the other person is... taken care of.

And even then, after reassuring him for hours, it may not be enough. You know how he hired a knight to take out Tyrion in the Battle of Blackwater? Yeah. That person will be paid a little 'visit.'

When reassuring him, similar to Cersei, you really have to be careful what you say, or it might make the situation even worse. At that point, he's seeing red.

"I’m the king! You should be grateful for my attention, not chasing after scraps!" He's huffing, pointing to himself as his breathing increases. He'll look at you with an ice cold glare, nose wrinkled in distaste.

He might even force his hand around your face, harshly grabbing you. He looks dead into your eyes, voice clear and low. "You're mine. You belong to me." He's seething.

If he notices you simply looking at anyone else too long, he'll feel beyond threatened in both his masculinity and position as king. Especially if you laugh at another mans jokes, or simply attempt to be friendly with a commoner or lord.

"What’s so amusing? You’d think you’d find better entertainment than that fool." He mutters under his breath harshly, bad habit of picking at his fingers. He'll shuffle uncomfortably. He'll look to you expecting agreeance. It's 100% that mentality of 'Friends? You don't need friends. You have me.'

Yeah, he keeps the very blunt insults coming. Petulant name calling is not above him. Includes, but is not limited too, "Degenerates, Idiots, Commoners, Peasants, or Cretins" which he may describe as being "Stupid, Disgusting, Repellent, Sickening, or Revolting." He's got a LOT of those angry remarks in the bank.

While he may not directly confront the offender, (he doesn't have time for idle threats.) He has his own ways of dealing with them. And that is a public humiliation ritual, making a mockery of any rival. And if they disobey ANY whim of his, they're gone. That one scene with Tyrion at his wedding? That "Kneel!"? He's commanding the same of any man unlucky enough to have threatened his claim on you. Oh, and they're going to be his cupbearer.

Even if they do as he asks, by now his anger will have transformed into that renewed sense of cruelty. "You're fingers or your tongue?...Or I could just cut your throat."

𝑅𝐴𝑀𝑆𝐴𝑌 𝐵𝛰𝐿𝑇𝛰𝑁

♫ “You're gonna suffer now, whatever you do.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

His jealousy may not be as overtly intense as Joffrey's, but it certainly is the scariest.

In his own words, he prefers being an only child. That same kind of mentality certainly carries over to his relationship with you. He prefers to be the only one you see that way.

He loves a good game, and that's what this is. If anything, it's quite exhilarating for him. Though, he is a huge hypocrite. For a man who thinks jealousy is boring coming from you, he feels it quite freely.

Sees it as a means of asserting dominance, whether that be through intimidation or overt manipulation. He doesn't deny it like most characters on this list. When he's feeling jealous, he says it. It's a small warning for you not to go any farther, lest worse things occur for you or the perceived threat.

He'll go up to whoever you are talking too, saccharine and honorable smile on his face. He'll casually interrupt, introducing himself as Lord Bolton's successor. Despite his calm demeanor, there is a tightness in his face, and a wicked look in his eyes, that only you can recognize. It will make you shiver.

If the rival persists, he'll find it all too amusing.

"You're bold, I'll give you that." He says with a boisterous laugh, and you already know the mans fate is sealed.

Looks like his hounds will be having another meal tonight. He'll have his men go out looking for the man, and he'll question him more...privately, when you aren't there to witness his tortuous taunts.

But for now, his focus is on you, and your loyalty to him. When he excuses the both of you, his hand is gripping yours painfully tight.

By the time you're in his chamber, he's on you, ripping your clothes off with a harsh intensity and pushing you to the wall. His nose is twitching in barely kept anger, forcing you to look at him.

We all saw that scene between him and Myranda when she threatens to marry someone else, and it was not pretty. His eyes are borderline bloodshot, and he can't keep his hands off you or your throat.

"You're mine." He leans forward, through gritted teeth. It's better you don't put up a fight, because he'll be having you and your attention one way or another.

Que the numerous kisses and bite marks soon to follow. And he is not gentle when he's inside you.

You'll never hear from the flirtatious lord again...and if you do, it's only in the prayers of his grieving family.

𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐼𝛰𝑁 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “My love, you are not safe with me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Now, Tyrion's jealousy is more subdued and introspective versus some characters on this list. He has a good sense of self-awareness, and he's intelligent to figure out what he's feeling quite quickly.

At first he'll dismiss it as nothing more than an annoying feeling of insecurity he attempts to cover up. But...it doesn't last long. Especially when someone else makes you laugh. Or when Bronn makes a taunt with a half smirk, that some other fancy lord has taken a keen interest in his lady. (Bronn, you instigator!)

As such, Tyrion resorts to his usual humor to deflect any unpleasant feelings he may have when he's jealous. Similar to his brother, these witty remarks are are subtle intimidation technique, meant to dryly convey his displeasure.

"Ah, the sound of laughter. How quaint. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to earn your amusement." He forces a smile, masking his discomfort. "I didn’t realize I was competing for the title of Court Jester."

These feelings of inadequacy manifest in more self-deprecating ways for Tyrion, given his anger is more controlled. He might opt to drown his sorrows, so don't be surprised if you catch him drunkenly waving his chalice around, doing poor impressions of the so-called-lord that had your attention.

This doesn't mean he won't confront the rival, though. Quite the opposite. While he won't seek the man out, (For his sake, he isn't privy to seeing the tall handsome lord in person. He's not a masochist.) If he happens to come across him flirting with you first hand, or sees him during a feast, he'll make sure to throw one or two gibes out there.

"Desperation looks unflattering on you, my friend. Perhaps you should tone it down a notch." He speaks carefully, nodding to Bronn as a subtle warning. "Or at least the best you can manage..?"

If the rival flirts with you blatantly and in front of him, I can 100% imagine him putting them down. After a flirtatious remark directed towards you, he'll make a dry comment, "Flattery is wasted on me, but do go on; I’m always entertained by those who think they can win my affection." As if it was directed towards him. Probably shuts the man up for a moment.

When the two of you are alone, he'd be very grateful if you could just hold him. Give him that reassurance he craves when his carefree facade breaks. That moment of vulnerability means the world to him.

𝑆𝐴𝑁𝐷𝛰𝑅 "𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐻𝛰𝑈𝑁𝐷" 𝐶𝐿𝐸𝐺𝐴𝑁𝐸

♫ “I need you to go, don't fight me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Listen up, Sandor doesn't take shit.

Jealousy isn't an emotion Sandor is particularly used too. In fact, he didn't think he'd find anyone to love in his lifetime, so the feeling is foreign and unpleasant. And, like a mean dog, Sandor's first reaction is to growl.

He doesn't like it. Says it's constricting, and it pisses him off. Not just the pretty boy lord flirting with you, but the whole situation in general. Makes him feel vulnerable, and weak.

Naturally, his first reaction is to distance himself. He may avoid you, grumbling, spitting out vile and vulgar comments to get you to run with your tail between your legs. It's better for the both of you that way.

"You think they’re worth your time? Just a pretty smile to distract you?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "You could do better. But then again, you always choose to suffer." He motions at himself, and it's a glimpse of that self-depreciation he buries.

But you love him for a reason, and you know that won't end well. Best way to handle him when he's jealous is to be gentle, and to listen.

He doesn't want empty reassurances. He's complicated that way, even if they are genuine. He isn't one for flowery words or overt displays of emotion, so the best way to comfort him would be to give him some space, but continue to take care of him.

It will still frustrate him, but eventually he'll cave. He'll rejoin you, silently, eventually. Won't offer any apologies, but maybe a gruff nod, and you two will commence whatever it is you two have.

In future instances, he becomes much more brutally honest with how he feels. Doesn't sugarcoat it. If he doesn't like someone, even if they are a friend, he expects them gone- or he'll take care of them regardless. That kind of possessive behavior is just something you'll have to work through.

I can imagine him silently brooding if he witnesses someone flirting with you first hand. Typically his size and reputation is enough to scare whoever away. He's looming over them, eyes dark, and ready to defend what's his.

When you take your leave, he'll confront the person with a very explicit threat or two.

"If you don’t back off, I’ll find a nice dark corner to stuff you in- preferably with a pile of shit." Or, "Get any closer, and I’ll rip your tongue out and shove it down your throat."

𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁𝐷 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ “Get swallowed by the weight.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Aemond has the most...complex jealousy out of everyone on this list. It's layered, and the outcome may be unpredictable. It's an emotional and volatile nature that's been building up for years since he was a child.

He often had feelings of jealousy for his brother, his nephews, etc. That trauma is deeply rooted in him, and it's hard to let go of old habits, given it's been present all his life.

You'll watch his head bow in distaste when you make small conversation with other lords. How his eye will gaze at you, almost warningly. His jaw will be clenched tight, and he'll avoid eye contact, looking off to the side in anger. He doesn't want to watch.

If it's a friend of yours, he can be a bit mean, questioning your loyalty a bit harshly.

"Friendship? Is that what you call it?" He speaks, angrily. A thinly veiled threat is directed to you, "It seems more like a prelude to betrayal."

He'll brood in the corner, silently waiting. That is, unless, he deems the man goes too far.

In the scene where he gets his eye put out by Lucerys, the conversation that starts before it happens pretty much sums his jealousy up. He's firm with his claim to Vaghar, and the same goes for you.

When Rhaena states that Vaghar was hers to claim, Aemond responds in kind, "Then you should've claimed her." And puts up a hell of a fight to prove his point. That same possessiveness carries over to his relationship with you. He doesn't back down. You're his.

He has no problems getting in between you and the man he feels threatened of. He offers a blunt threat.

"I could have you torn apart, limb by limb, and I’d sleep soundly at night. Be certain of that."

Guaranteed, mixed feelings of insecurity will rise to the surface. When you two are alone, he'll continue to brood silently, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and body language tight.

Please do reassure him. He needs it. His eye will soften, and he'll place his hand over yours, leaning into your touch. With a soft huff of an air, a final warning slips past his lips.

"Don’t make me remind you why I’m the only one worthy of you."

𝐴𝐸𝐺𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ “I wanna hold on tightly.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Aegon handles jealousy poorly, much like he seems to handle everything else.

It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. Once that feeling in his chest flares up, it's shown through erratic behavior, sarcasm, and attempts to assert his claim in juvenile, insecure ways. Unlike his brother, he lacks the restraint to simply brood.

No, be prepared for plenty of mocking comments directed towards the man he's threatened of, and showy displays to prove he's the better choice.

Everyone knows he is unpredictable and reckless, and possessiveness drives him to act out. He certainly overindulges to cope with his insecurity, (getting shitfaced) and will gladly push your boundaries to get your attention back on him.

Not to mention the belittling comments he'll make.

"Oh, is that who you’ve chosen to entertain now? I didn’t realize your taste had grown so dull."

Prone to acting overtly clingy, almost like a restless cat. He will attempt to slide over into the conversation, resting an arm around you, or even pulling you away. He doesn't care if it's 'improper.' He probably brings up his status, his bloodline, acting over-the-top.

He's also no stranger to outbursts. His temper may make him lash out impulsively, whether that be towards you or the man whose got your attention. If he's in a particular mood, be ready to deal with a screaming Aegon, threatening to slaughter and burn said rival. His fist will come down hard on the council table.

He also doesn't care if he's making a show of it in front of the council members. Que Alicent or Otto attempting to placate him. He needs to have a cooler head if he's going to be ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and this type of behavior isn't very becoming.

He definitely thinks he's owed some make-up sex, if only to quell the insecure storm raging inside him.

"You think they could satisfy you? Truly?" He says, firmly, as he steps closer. Anger is burning in his words, volume raising. "They wouldn’t even know where to begin."

And he plans to show you that he's right.

𝐴𝐿𝐼𝐶𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

♫ “I'm afraid I'll pull you over the edge.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Alicent experiences jealousy complexly, just like Aemond. It gnaws on her until she's at her breaking point. Rather than overt displays or confrontations, she attempts to employ more strategic distance...but it always ends up resorting in icy politeness.

She's making her displeasure known through restrained, pointed remarks. Out of duty and pride, she'll attempt to avoid direct confrontation, but she wears her jealousy on her sleeve.

I imagine her withdrawing from the situation at first, if not for anything but her own sake. Her gut reaction, out of insecurity, is to escape the situation. It honestly makes her feel sick.

Unless she's forced to stay...then she'll begrudgingly offer a tight smile. Her responses are carefully measured, and she slips into that role of "queen" rather than a lover.

A part of it stems from passive aggressiveness, and another part of it is purely subconscious.

Speaking of passive aggressiveness, she'll make some pretty cutting remarks, either questioning your loyalty or purposely feigning ignorance to the situation.

"Perhaps I’m mistaken. But I know loyalty when I see it. Or when I don’t."

It's an all bark, no bite threat towards you. But it serves as an aggressive reminder of your connection with her, and that you are now apart of her duties.

If she does interfere beforehand, she'll make indirect remarks about the person causing her jealousy, but will most likely frame it as merely her own curiosity.

Maybe just a touch of self-depreciation, unintentional manipulation. Years of Otto's techniques have rubbed off on her.

"It’s of little consequence, truly. I simply thought I was the one you preferred to spend your time with. I may have misjudged."

𝐺𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑁𝐸 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

♫ “Hurts to say it over, over again.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

In contrast to Alicent, Gwayne has no problem when he feels threatened to step in. He's a member of a powerful house, and a knight no less. Those two things have taught him to be prideful and honorable.

He will defend your honor whenever he deems in necessary, and there are no exceptions. He certainly has a flash of a temper, but he believes he's much more restrained than others, given his training.

If he thinks someone is crossing a line, he'll interfere. He'll position himself quite closely to you, making his presence known.

He offers the man a silent warning, offering a cool, assessing look. It would be enough to communicate his disapproval.

And if the man persists...well...they'll end up with the end of a sword pointed at them.

Similar to Robb, Gwayne's jealousy appears more in his heightened protectiveness. He insists on staying close for your safety.

"Do they need to be reminded that you’re already spoken for?"

Obviously, his noble pride carries on. If he gets pushed, his jealousy will show more openly, taking the man aside, and telling them that he is more worthy of her time and attention. Might throw in a comment about his noble standing.

He'll take you aside when everything is said and done, reminding her his intentions are honorable. Everyone else is just...unworthy.

"You may not see it, but I know men like him. If he truly respected you, he wouldn’t need to linger around someone else’s beloved."

𝐷𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ "No matter how you feel." Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oh boy, you'll have to keep this man on a tight leash when his jealousy flares up. It's as intense as he is, and he shows it openly.

He'll deny it, or embrace it, depending on the severity of the perceived offense. It's closely tied to that desire for power within him he can't seem to shake. Any affront to your loyalty is an affront to his own standing.

He switches from possessive protectiveness to outright hostility. There's really no in between. It's a raw and unfiltered fury that makes his hand shake and his eye twitch.

He doesn't tolerate rivals, and he's very upfront that he's the only one fit to be by your side. This comes through when he has you all to himself on his bed...

He'll confront the person whether you want him to or not.

"If they value their limbs, they’d remember you’re mine." He mutters casually, pacing around the room.

He carries that hard glint in his eyes. He may even mildly appreciate the sheer balls of the man stupid enough to attempt to flirt with you, but he'll shut it down quicker than anyone on this list.

"You’ve got a bold tongue. I wonder if I should cut it out..?" He'll look to you for permission. It's up to you if you wanna let the dragon loose!

[guiltyasdave]

delicate

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: ~3.9k

summary: You meet a mysterious man at a club. He's just as attracted to you as you are to him.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, very soft dom!Oberyn, protected p in v (who am I), dirty talk, fingering, anal play (m receiving), a hint of angst, romance because I can't help myself

a/n: written for @dancingtotuyo’s on repeat drabble challenge, based on the song delicate by taylor swift. this is honestly just feral, i have nothing to say for myself.

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates!

Lights are flashing, colors dancing over the exposed skin of your arms and shoulders; the bass is pumping, making your whole body feel like it’s vibrating from within. You’re clinging to your friend, your arms intertwined as you navigate your way through the crowd of people to the bar.

You first see him as you’re gulping down your drink, welcoming the cool liquid in your parched throat. Your eyes are observing the crowd, flying over him and then flickering back to take a second glance. 

He’s gorgeous, his dark hair a mess, a beard framing his face, his skin shining under the lights. He’s wearing a shirt that flows around his body, threads of gold weaving through the fabric and reflecting the dancing lights. It’s almost entirely undone, giving you a generous look at the expanse of his toned chest, at the sun-kissed skin that you feel a sudden urge to run your fingers over. A massive gold chain with a lock hangs around his neck, an accessory that you’re convinced would look absolutely ridiculous on anyone else. But on him, it somehow only accentuates the strong cords of muscle that ripple under his skin in a way that makes you want to lick your lips. 

He moves with a confident ease, his body in tune with the stomping beats, his whole being exuding an almost cocky self-assuredness. You keep drinking him in, fascinated in a way that you can barely understand. You realize that you’ve been staring when your friend follows your line of sight and you hear her quiet gasp beside you. 

“Haven’t seen that one around before,” her voice floats into your ear over the music and you shake your head in silent agreement. You’d definitely remember if you did. 

You both watch him move with the body of a woman next to him, watch him bend down to whisper something into her ear, watch the way his lips curl into a smug grin as she grinds against him in reaction to his words. 

“Too late, I guess,” you laugh, downing the rest of your drink and tearing your eyes away. 

The two of you head back into the crowd, swaying your bodies to the beat. You try to get lost in the feeling of it, but your eyes keep searching for him, hungrily grasping at the glimpses of him that you can spot. Eventually, you watch the retreating backs of both of him and the woman head toward the exit, their bodies closely intertwined. Like you said, you try to shrug it off, too late. It’s not a big deal, there’s more than enough other guys around you. 

But you don’t go home with any of those guys, none of them able to catch your interest the way he did, and when you lie in bed in the early morning hours, your head pleasantly buzzing with the remaining alcohol in your bloodstream, you still see him behind your eyelids. 

A few weeks go by and while you hope to catch him every time that you’re out, there’s no trace of him. It isn’t until your friend’s birthday celebration, a tradition that the two of you have kept up for years, that you see him again. 

Again, you’re leaning against the bar, your eyes aimlessly drifting over the dancefloor while you’re sipping on your drink, when you spot him. He’s wearing another colorful shirt, his chest almost entirely on display, and he’s shamelessly grinding against another young man as they’re both moving to the beat. You can’t tear your eyes away, apparently staring so intently that he catches you and throws you a wink across the room. 

You feel heat rising in your cheeks and almost turn away, but he’s already on his way, moving towards you with a cat-like grace, effortlessly weaving through the crowd of moving bodies. 

“Hey,” he says, leaning into you so close that his breath fans hot against your ear, causing goosebumps to rise on your neck. “Saw something you like?” 

You grin at him over the rim of your cup, biting your lip and nodding. He mirrors your grin, an almost predatory glint in his eyes. He’s even more gorgeous up close, a light sheen of sweat on his face and his eyes a smoldering brown, his dark hair a mess with strands sticking to his forehead. You take in his toned chest, his broad shoulders and you desperately want to touch your hands to his golden skin. A foreign accent is lacing his words in the most delicious way, only adding to the pull that you feel towards him. 

“Let me buy you another drink,” he purrs and you accept, thanking him and offering him your name. You relish in the way you have to lean into him so that he can hear you, greedily soaking in his scent and his body heat that make your mouth water. 

His name is Oberyn, you learn, a name that sounds foreign on your tongue and you could swear that a quiet growl rises up his throat when you repeat it back to him. 

You’d love to spend your evening dancing with him, pressing your body against his, find out if moving with him feels as good as it looks from the outside. But it’s your friend’s birthday, and you’re gonna stick together, dance the night away with each other and no one else, the way you do every year. 

He shrugs it off when you tell him as much, an unbothered grin on his face as he promises you another time then. His hand wraps around your wrist, the warmth of it sinking into your skin as he pulls your arm out towards him, a black marker suddenly in his other hand. 

“What are you–” you begin to ask, but your voice dies at the sight of him pulling the cap off with his teeth, something that really shouldn’t affect you this much. 

He bends over your arm and it takes your hazy mind a moment to register that he’s writing numbers onto your skin. You’re getting lost in the feeling of his hand on you, even in such an innocent place, and your thoughts are already jumping to fantasies of how it would feel trailing up your arm and over your body. 

“There,” his voice floats into your ear and you almost jump. The smug look on his face leaves no doubt that he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. He leans in close again, so close that you can feel his breath on your skin. Your mouth feels dry. 

You look down at your arm, now adorned with digits in black ink. A phone number. 

“Give me a call,” he smirks, and leans in even closer, until his lips move against the shell of your ear and a shudder runs down your back at the sensation. “Just think of the fun things we could do.” He throws you another wink and slides away from you, back into the crowd. 

You text him the next day, worried if it’s too soon, if it makes you seem desperate. Then again, you have to admit to yourself, you are desperate. Desperate to hear his voice again, desperate to feel his hands on you again. Texting him is less awkward than you had hoped, his demeanor putting you at ease almost immediately. You catch yourself smiling at the screen, already down bad for this man. 

You’re in bed, struggling to calm down enough to sleep when your phone’s screen lights up the darkness of your bedroom from where it’s lying on your nightstand. 

He’s asking you to meet him in a dive bar, right now, if you want to. You’re reluctant at first, once again worried to appear too eager, but the almost magnetic pull that you feel towards him eventually leads you out of your apartment and to the address he sent you. 

He’s waiting for you in the back, just like he told you. Wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt, the fabric stretching around his broad chest in a way that makes it hard not to stare, dressed much more casually than you’ve come to know from him. It doesn’t take away from his persona one bit, he’s still exuding that energy that seems to let him command every room he’s in, that makes it so hard for you to resist him. 

He buys you a drink and pulls you into a corner booth with him. Talking to him is easy, he’s an attentive listener and his quick remarks make you laugh, leaning into him when you do. You learn that he’s not from around here, that he flew in to visit friends but that he’s thinking about moving here permanently. It almost scares you, how giddy that prospect makes you, the idea of having the chance to keep seeing him. His arm finds its way around your shoulders eventually, his fingers drawing shapes over your skin. The innocent contact makes you feel like a teenager, suddenly sixteen again. 

He walks you home later, his arm still wrapped around you, pulling you into his side. It feels good, a sense of safety and intimacy that you feel yourself getting lost in. You had thought that he was hot, that he would be a fun hookup, but as the minutes tick on, you realize how much you already like him. How much you want this feeling to last. 

It feels so natural, turning around to face him when you reach your building, both of you leaning in simultaneously until your lips meet, like it’s the only possible way for this evening to end. You think that it is. 

Kissing him feels even better than you had envisioned in your mind, and you melt against him, one hand braced against his chest while the other comes up to pull at the hair in the nape of his neck, needing him closer, not ready to let him go. He’s cupping your face in both hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks, and you feel him smile against your lips. You lick into his mouth, revel in the groan that rumbles deep in his chest. 

You don’t let go of him, holding onto his hand when you pull him up the stairs, soak in the feeling of him pressed against your body when you unlock your apartment door, let him connect his lips with yours again when he walks you backwards down your hallway.

Everything about him feels so right, so safe and yet like the most exciting experience you’ve ever had. You breathe him in, ecstatic with the sensation of his broad form against you, with the way you feel his muscles move under your fingers where you’re grabbing at his shoulders.

He lets you lead him into your bedroom, his hands still all over you. You push him down to sit on the edge of your bed and he follows your lead, sinking down on the mattress with an easy grin on his face, regarding you with hooded eyes. He wraps his hands around your waist as you’re standing in front of him and he pulls you closer. His fingers find their way below the hem of your skirt, dancing over the supple skin of your thighs, slowly inching up higher. 

You whine, already squirming under his touch, and his grin widens. 

“So soft,” he coos up at you, tightening his grip on your thighs and moving you to straddle him, your legs already spread wide to accommodate the thickness of his thighs beneath you. One hand comes up to cradle your face again, his thumb nudging at your lips and you flick your tongue against the digit, making him chuckle. 

“And so pretty,” he continues, leaning in to connect your lips once more. You want to melt into him, let him consume every fiber of your being. 

Your hands tug at his t-shirt, pulling it up, desperate to satisfy the need to be closer to him, to feel his bare skin against yours. He helps you, lifting the fabric over his head. You’ve seen most of his chest before, but not like this, not revealed just for you, in the dim light of your bedroom, yours to look at, yours to touch. He somehow seems even broader without clothes on and you’re almost transfixed by the thick cords of muscle of his arms and shoulders that are on display for you now. 

He chuckles again, placing another kiss at the corner of your lips. 

“You alright, princess?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur, feeling breathless, overwhelmed with how much you want him. 

His hands splay over your thighs, fingertips dipping beneath your skirt again, slowly, teasingly skating higher. 

“Take this off for me.” It’s phrased like an order, but it’s still so soft, not leaving a doubt in your mind that you could say no if you wanted to. But you don’t. You want him to see you, want to feel his eyes on you, want to have this hungry look that’s trained on your face burning all over your body. 

He groans when you obey, a deep, rumbling sound that goes straight to your core and you know that he feels your thighs clenching on top of his. His mouth is on your bare skin within seconds, kissing and sucking, his tongue moving against you like he’s going to devour you. 

You arch against him with a whine when he circles your nipple, first with his fingers and then with his tongue before sucking the sensitive bud between his lips. It’s all encompassing, the wetness of his mouth, the strong grip of his hands, the heat of his chest seeping into your skin where you’re pressing yourself against him. 

“Please, Oberyn,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re asking for, just knowing that you need more. His responding moan sends vibrations from his mouth straight through you, before his fingers dig into your waist and he flips you over, until your back is resting on your sheets and he’s hovering over you, your thighs still spread wide around him. 

The image alone is enough to send another wave of arousal through you, the way he looks just as wrecked as you feel. His large hands spread your thighs wider as he leans back, his eyes trained on your panties, where you know the fabric must be soaked already. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles again, more to himself than to you. His eyes fly back up to meet yours, almost black, his pupils blown wide. “Can I take these off?” He dips a finger under the lace covering your hip, pulling it away and letting it snap against your skin. 

“Please.” You don’t care how desperate you sound, not when he looks up at you with the most sinful smirk on his face. His hands grasp the fabric and you lift your hips to help him pull it down, but his smirk widens as he tears the lace in half, ripping the shreds off of your body. 

“Fuck,” you whine, not a single thought wasted on the fact that those were some of your favorite panties, every part of you focused on how badly you want his hands all over you. 

His eyes stay focused on your expression, eagerly drinking in your every reaction as his fingers dip between your legs, so close to where you so desperately need him. He groans when he feels the wetness seeping from your folds, swirling his digits through it before reaching your clit. He’s ghosting over the sensitive nub with barely any pressure, but it’s enough to elicit a moan from you, your hips canting up to follow his touch. You’re distantly aware of the pleas that are falling from your lips, giving way to a loud whine when he finally sinks two thick fingers into your heat. 

He thrusts into you, curling them just right, and his name tumbles out of your mouth again, laced with pure need. You watch in fascination when he sucks his slick-coated fingers into his mouth, eyes still trained on your face, a rumble forming in his chest at the taste. 

“Tastes so sweet, princess.”

Your thighs fall open wider, shamelessly offering yourself to him, to his eyes, his hands. You reach out, grabbing at his waist, the need to feel all of him nearly overwhelming. His fingers intertwine with yours, pulling your hands away from his body. He lifts them up to his mouth and presses soft kisses against your knuckles, a whisper of patience on his lips before he lets go of you and rises up to rid himself of his jeans. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of him, a needy sigh escaping you when you think about feeling him inside you, about the way he’s gonna stretch your walls. You sit up, eagerly reaching for him again. Your fingers wrap around his cock, mesmerized by his girth, and he hisses when you move your hand over his length. 

You hear the crinkle of plastic and then his hand is on yours, gently tugging it away, much too soon for your liking. You watch as he puts the condom on with practiced ease, the sight of his own hands on his cock enough to send another wave of arousal through you. 

He’s back on you before you know it, sliding in between your spread legs, his large hands splayed over your upper thighs, pushing them further apart. His eyes are trained on your weeping pussy, a hungry darkness in them. You whine when he rubs his cock through your wetness before tapping against your clit.

“You want this?” he asks, his voice husky. 

“Please, Oberyn.” Your desperate plea breaks off into a filthy moan when he sheathes himself inside of you, breaching your tight walls with the most delicious sting, and you feel your eyes rolling back into your head. 

Pleasure grows inside of you as he starts to move, slamming into your pussy in a forceful rhythm. You feel so full of him, the sensation almost overwhelming as he hits the perfect spot over and over. The wave inside of you crests so suddenly that you barely realize what’s happening, the need that you’ve felt brewing all evening finally reaching its peak. 

You gasp his name, nails pressing into his shoulders as he fucks you through it, until you’re a trembling mess beneath him. He slows, moving in and out of you with shallow thrusts, his lips on yours once more. 

You stay like that for a moment, arms wrapped around him, holding him close while you bask in the bliss that you’ve just experienced. But his continuous movements have the hunger for more growing inside of you once more. You meet his thrusts with your hips, needy to feel him deeper again. He props himself up, and it’s sinful how good he looks, his face glowing, a sheen of sweat on his skin. 

You suck one of your fingers into your mouth, eyes wide and holding his gaze, feigning innocence. He watches you, a curious glint in his eyes, as you trail your hands from his shoulders down his back until you reach his ass and pull him further into you, fingernails digging into his flesh. 

You let your saliva-covered finger reach further, gently massaging the puckered ring of muscle and he gasps, thrusting into you with so much force that it jostles your whole body and you cry out, the sensation of him so deep inside you a heady mix of pleasure and pain. 

“Fuck,” he grits between his teeth as you keep up your ministrations, delighted to have this effect on him. “Fuck, princess, just like that…” 

You bite your lip, grinning up at him. “Do the girls back home touch you like I do?” 

He breathes out a laugh and shakes his head, his movements never faltering as he gathers your wrists in his hands and pins them down on the mattress beside your head. 

“No. And you’re gonna make me come if you keep this up, but I’m not finished with you yet,” he purrs, leaning down and sucking bruising kisses into the soft skin of your throat, the scratch of his beard only adding to the sensation. You free one of your hands from his grip to tug at his hair, your fingers burrowing in the soft strands at his neck and scratching against his scalp. 

“You can give me one more, can’t you?” His voice in your ear makes you shiver and you nod, a breathless please on your lips. 

“Good girl.” His kiss is soft against your cheek before he pulls away, his thrusts speeding up, as he grabs your hips, holding them up, giving you no choice but to take him. “Touch yourself,” he demands, the tendons in his neck straining with exertion. 

Your fingers are on your clit within moments, rubbing against it, slick with your arousal. The coil inside you tightens again, desperate for release once more. 

“Give it to me princess, come on.” His voice sounds wrecked, and it’s the thing that makes you leap over the edge a second time, stars exploding behind your eyelids as you pulse around him, pure pleasure soaring through you. 

He comes to a stuttering halt, hips pressed flush against yours, and his groans are almost enough to make you want to come again. He falls forward, forehead pressed against yours, and you share a lazy smile. 

You think that he really is the most beautiful person that you’ve ever met.

You fell asleep curled against him, your head resting on his chest and soaking up his warmth, with his arm around your shoulder, but when you blink awake to soft morning light falling through your curtains, you are alone. You roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. You’ve seen him at the club, he’s probably in a different bed almost every night, you shouldn’t be surprised that he snuck out of yours in the morning. And you sure as hell shouldn’t be disappointed. 

You get up with a sigh, pulling a t-shirt over your head and padding down the hall to the kitchen. You come to an abrupt halt in the doorway, met with a sight that you hadn’t expected. He’s standing in front of your open fridge, the expanse of his back bare and turned towards you. There’s a swoop of excitement in your stomach.

You exhale loudly and he turns towards you, an easy smile on his lips. “Good morning.” His voice sounds raspier, still thick with sleep. 

“Hey,” you say, returning his smile. He closes the distance between you and cups your face, the sensation of his thumb against your cheek already a familiar one. His lips find yours and you get lost in the feeling of it, in the fantasy of this being your every morning, in pretending that he’s yours. 

When he pulls away, the words are out of your mouth before your mind is able to catch up.

“I think I really like you.” 

You want to bite your tongue immediately, to take them back. Too early, the voice in your head screams. Your eyes widen as you search for something else to say, but he doesn’t waver, still regarding you with that relaxed smile on his handsome face.

“Is– is it okay that I said that?” 

He hums, his large hand still on your cheek. 

“I think I really like you too.”

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider putting a smile on my face by reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask <3 thank you for reading!

[charliedawn]

"Marry me."

How I think marriage proposals would go for those characters.

Sandor Clegane:

"…Wanna get married ?" You asked as both you and Sandor were sleeping side by side in the forest. Sandor blinked—half asleep. He had back pain and a headache. He had hoped that the wine would help him to fall asleep quicker, as to not have to hear you say any other crazy thing or request for the day. But, of course. He was mistaken.

"Huh ?" When the information seemed to eventually settle in his brain, his whole face seemed a perfect depiction of confusion. He finally turned around and you could see in his eyes that he wasn’t exactly sober either. You decided this was the perfect moment to ask—since he would probably not even remember you asked the next morning. It gave you courage to ask again.

"Wanna get married ?" You repeated with a little more determination and this time, he answered.

"No."

"Ah."

"…"

"…"

"…You. Wanna get married ?" He asked this time—more because he was curious than awaiting an actual answer. But, you took your chance and answered truthfully.

"Sure."

He was momentarily surprised by your confidence before he huffed a laugh and wrapped an arm around you.

"…Fine. We’ll get married in the morning. Now, hush."

There was then a moment of silence before you both bursted out laughing. Just two drunks having the most normal conversation ever. You knew that by tomorrow, he would have surely forgotten all about tonight. But for now, you were satisfied with the knowledge that his subconscience hadn’t said no.

Oberyn Martell:

"Would you like to marry me ?" You asked Oberyn while he wad writing and whose lips curved slightly into a small smirk at the request. He was used to your rather straightforward nature. He liked it even. It made him laugh and enjoy your presence at parties. You were curious and completely unashamed or afraid of any consequences your requests or demands would bring. This is why he always caved. But, he could also be playful and this is why he answered with a small grin:

"No."

He was curious to see your reaction, but his smile slightly faltered when he saw the hurt in your eyes at his rejection. It was the first time he had seen you so upset and he immediately regretted his words.

"Oh. Okay then." You were embarrassed and turned around quickly to get back to your own private quarters. But he was by your side in an instant and wrapped his arms around you from behind.

"I was only kidding. I would LOVE to marry you, sweet peach."

He then kissed the back of your neck lovingly. You let out a sigh of relief as you leaned back against him.

"…Really ?"

He chuckled.

"Yes. Really."

He then kissed your temple and you stayed in his arms for a while before he started nuzzling the back of your neck.

"But what brought the subject, sweet peach ?"

You sighed before closing your eyes.

"…You’re the only one who truly enjoys my presence. You laugh and smile at me, even when my words are nonsense. So I thought…why not ask ?"

Oberyn seemed taken aback for a moment before his smile widened and he pressed your back further against him to kiss your shoulder and whisper in your ear.

"Let me tell you a little secret. I would marry you for your nonsense, my dear. Because your nonsense makes more sense to me than this whole world does…"

Tyrion Lannister:

"Do you want to marry me ?" You asked Tyrion one night and the man was so stunned that he spilled his cup of wine.

"What ?"

Tyrion was the most decent between all the Lannisters. He had helped you more than once and there was no doubt in your proposal. You would never find better husband.

"You heard me."

He stayed silent again and made you nervous. Would he refuse ? Would he tell you that he has already found someone ? Would he tell you that he has no interest in you ? But, he didn’t. He simply sighed.

"…Why ?"

Why ? You could tell him a thousand reasons why. Because he was one of the few good men you knew. Because you had no intention of marrying any other. Because you knew he could be gentle. Because he was funny. Because he could be brave. Because he had the heart of a true lion…but no. You wouldn’t tell him like that. Because even if you did, he wouldn’t believe you.

"Because I want to." You settled for instead and his eyes widened slightly in surprise before he smiled a little and shook his head.

"Why would you want to marry an imp ?"

"It is not an imp that I am marrying, but a prince." You retorted. You both stared at each other and his gaze softened as he started actually considering it for a moment.

"You would be miserable." You frowned in incomprehension at his words.

"Why ?" He glanced away for a second.

"Because I am not a good man."

You huffed a bitter laugh at his words.

"Haven’t you heard ? There are no good man left, my prince."

Tyrion seemed taken aback, but he couldn’t deny the truth behind your words and drank a little of his wine.

"Tell me, Tyrion. If I was to become your wife/husband. Would you hit me ? Would you abuse me ? Would you lie to me ?"

He shook his head with a small smile. No. He wouldn’t. You smiled back and Tyrion finally nodded understandingly. It wasn’t about love. It wasn’t about finding a good man. It was always about finding the one who wouldn’t hurt you…And hence, he understood and maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a wife/husband ?

Jaime Lannister:

"Jaime…" You sat down next to him at the feast prepared for the Lannisters and even though you could feel Cersei glaring daggers at you—you grabbed his hand. He didn’t react, but you could feel his fingers slightly curving to hold yours.

"Hello, buttercup." He finally greeted you in a whisper and you couldn’t help but smile weakly. You knew of his heart and his loyalty to his sister. It wasn’t really your business to interfere, but you didn’t like how Cersei was treating him. And, you also knew that his heart could maybe be won over.

So, you did the most nonsense ever and challenged him. You stood up and faced him—catching the attention of everyone in the room as you declared loudly.

"Jaime Lannister. I challenge you to an arm wrestling competition !"

That ought to have gained his attention as his eyes finally met yours and what he found in there made his eyes widen in surprise. You were determined and even though he was a knight—you didn’t seem scared of losing. He tried to laugh and wave it off as a mere joke—but you didn’t back down and even provoked him.

"Are you perhaps not a lion ? But a scared chicken ?"

That oughta do it. He was up before you could even pronounce another word and the fury in his eyes made you smile. He had taken the bait.

"If I win, you must agree to one single demand of my choice without knowing what it is !"

"And if I win ?" He quickly shot back and you bit back a laugh.

"Then I will give you whatever you want."

In a matter of minutes, everything was settled and you were both in position. Everyone assumed you were mad or had consumed too much wine to challenge Jaime Lannister—but it couldn’t be further from the truth. You had planned it carefully. You had trained and trained your body and your mind. You had worn big sleeves to hide the muscles hidden underneath. This could be the most important challenge of your life and you wanted to win. More than anything.

The moment Jaime gripped your hand, his eyes stared straight at you as he realised what you had done. This was not the strength of the Y/N he was accustomed to…but it was too late to stop and in a matter of seconds—Jaime Lannister was on the floor.

Everyone was stunned.

But, you only gracefully stood up from your seat and looked down at him before smirking.

"…I will be waiting for that marriage proposal." And with that, you were out of the room—leaving a very confused Jaime and a very angry Cersei behind. But, you knew that a lion never backed down from his word. And Jaime would be yours.

Petyr Baelish (Littlefinger) :

"Marry me." Littlefinger didn’t even seem surprised by you sudden demand. Everyone knew that your father wished to marry you off to Ramsay Bolton. And even though Littlefinger wasn’t sure why you would come to him with such a request, he didn’t show it.

He didn’t even look up as he simply asked.

"Why ?"

You huffed a bitter laugh. The man would sell mother and father for a throne. And he dared to ask why ?

"Does it matter ?"

He licked his thumb to turn the page of the book he was reading nonchalantly, even though you knew that he was secretly weighing the pros and cons of such an alliance.

"Depends. What will it bring me ?"

You looked away.

"Don’t pretend not to realise how advantageous it would be for you to be a part of the Lannister family. You’d have an easy access to the iron throne."

He hummed and pretended to think about it. It was true marrying you would be a fast way to get access to all the nice advantages of being a part of the so-called prestigious Lannister family. But, it had its own set of disadvantages to consider. He would become more than just a little man in the shadows that no one would deem worthy of being a threat, he would become a lion. A black lion.

"…Tell me why you would lower yourself to such an alliance with me. Surely, there would be one handsome young man who would say yes to such a proposal without even blinking. Why go to me, princess/prince ?"

You hesitated before sighing in defeat.

"…Because if I am to marry a snake, better be one I know than one chosen by Tywin Lannister."

At that, Petyr finally dignified you with a glance. You held his gaze and after a few seconds, he smiled.

"Very well, my beauty. Lead the snake to the lion’s den then."

Sansa Stark:

You and Sansa had been longtime allies and friends. You were maybe the only friend she had ever had after the almost complete destruction of House Stark. You had developed feeling for her over time and knew that asking her for her hand wouldn’t be easy—but you were willing to try.

"Please, Sansa of House Stark." You knelt on one knee before her with a rose in your hand and the other hand on your heart. "Would you marry me ?"

Sansa was surprised by the proposal. She had married twice and both marriages weren’t a success. She had lived through nightmares and pain out of such a dream as marriage. She used to want to get married with someone she loved so badly, but not anymore.

"My heart is not so easily won by a rose and pretty words anymore." She replied instead—thinking that she would succeed in breaking your resolve. But, she was mistaken.

"I know. I know that I may never be worthy of even your eyes on me. But…I am a fool, and my heart beats for you. And if you want it ? Then it’s yours. And even if you don’t want it. Let me fight for you. And prove my loyalty to the most beautiful and strong lady the North has ever seen." You pleaded and Sansa was rendered speechless.

She looked into your eyes and saw only love and adoration. She then glanced down at the rose you offered her and after a moment of hesitation, she finally took it.

"…You may try to win my heart, Y/N. But, I cannot promise you success."

You smiled and shook your head.

"Just having you acknowledge my feelings is enough for hope to enter my heart."

Sansa smiled back.

Maybe…romance wasn’t utterly dead.

Jon Snow: (Before the tragedy 😭)

"Marry me." It was said with such confidence that Jon himself was stunned as he looked up at you with widened eyes.

"What ?"

"You heard me."

There was a moment of silence before Jon smiled and he suddenly pulled you into his arms. There was no yes or no. Just a moment of pure euphoria as he couldn’t stop laughing as he buried his face in your chest. He was so happy, he forgot to form words.

When he was finally calm once more, he kissed you passionately.

"Yes. Yes. Yes, I will."

You both started laughing together and Jon even fell back on the snow as you held him tightly.

Daenerys:

"Marry me." You demanded and Daenerys looked back at you. She didn’t seem surprised or even mildly confused by the demand. She knew of your feelings for her—and she was more than happy to reciprocate.

But, marriage ?

Marriage meant boundaries. Marriage meant attachment. Marriage meant she would have to think about you and a possible future where she wasn’t all powerful.

She sighed before stroking your cheek and offering you an apologetic smile.

"My dear Y/N…If only I could, do not believe for a second that I would say no. But, as the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms…I cannot."

You closed your eyes and a few tears rolled down your cheeks. You had expected such an answer of course, but still…your heart ached.

"I…understand." You forced yourself to say and Daenerys nodded. She was a queen. A khaleesi. And you were just…human.

Ser Jorah:

"Please. Marry me." Ser Jorah was stunned at the unexpected request and turned towards you with widened eyes. He was about to answer when you quickly added.

"Love me. Hate me. I want you and you want her. But, I am not asking for your love. But for your protection, kind ser Jorah." He closes his mouth and seemed to think about it for a moment. He knew that you were a young lady/man who had left her/his family to join Daenerys. He had no idea you held such feelings for him…

"You can have my protection, but why go to such lengths to have it ?" He finally asked and you sighed before taking his hand in yours.

"Because it is not only physical protection I seek." You then laid his hand flat upon your heart and Ser Jorah seemed taken aback once more. He looked at you and you didn’t shy away from his gaze.

You knew Ser Jorah was honourable and even if he would never return your feelings, he would make a far greater husband than anyone you ever knew. He would respect you and your heart. And that was more than you could ever wish for…

Ser Jorah accepted.

After all, it was only his name that you were going to bear and his sword that would protect you. You would call him husband, but only in name.

[sanarsi]

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Hello to everyone interested in this year's Kinktober by me!

Here you will find a few things I would like you to familiarize yourself with:

All stories are written by me and all of them are intended for MDNI so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

All stories are fiction and are not intended to offend anyone.

This is Kinktober with only Pedro Pascal characters such as:

Joel Miller – The Last of Us Oberyn Martell – Game of Thrones Din Djarin – The Mandalorian Javier Peña – Narcos Jack Daniels “Agent Whiskey” – Kingsman: The Golden Circle Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales – Triple Frontier Marcus Moreno – We Can Be Heroes Dieter Bravo – The Bubble Reed Richards – The Fantastic Four: First Steps Marcus Acacius – Gladiator 2

Please read the warnings under each of the works I wrote before reading and do not interact if any of them discourage you. Some stories are not for everyone and that's okay!

I do not allow my works to be copied and distributed without my consent.

All works will be available under this hashtag - #sanarsi kinktober 2024

Main Masterlist

Day 1 – Threesome

QZ!Joel Miller x f!Reader x QZ!Tess

You have no way to pay for the goods. Tess finds a way for you to pay, Joel joins with pleasure.

Day 2 – Hunter/Prey

dark!Din Djarin x f!Reader

Din has one problem with you, you often like to run away from him. Luckily he loves playing this game with you.

Day 3 – Monsterfucking

monster!Oberyn Martell x f!Reader

Your poison lessons with Oberyn went wrong when he accidentally drank the wrong potion.

Day 4 – Food play

Marcus Acacius x prostitute!f!Reader

General likes to brighten up his evenings with your companion. This time he's in the mood for more fun.

Day 5 – Edgeplay

dark!Din Djarin x f!Reader

Din learns to control the new power that has been given to him. However, the Darksaber has an influence on its owner and you will be the first to know about it.

Day 6 – Pregnancy

husband!Jack Daniels x wife!f!Reader

Jack finally made you carry his baby. The sight of you with your rounded belly makes him unable to get enough of you.

Day 7 – Sensory Deprivation

boyfriend!Frankie Morales x f!Reader

You and Frankie like to experiment in bed and this time you took the initiative to play with him.

Day 8 – Uniforms

husband!Reed Richards x wife!f!Reader

You try on your new uniform for the first time. Reed can't keep his hands to himself at the sight of you.

Day 9 – Massaging

Javier Peña x prostitute!f!Reader

Javier is one of your regular and favorite clients. You are always willing to fulfill all his requests but today he needed more from you than just sex.

Day 10 – Knife play

post-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

After Joel killed all of your comrades, he kept you as a reward. Unfortunately, you weren't willing to cooperate, so he used more drastic methods to make you obey him.

Day 11 – Face Sitting

Dieter Bravo x f!Reader

Dieter has run out of drugs, so he asks you to keep him occupied.

Day 12 – Handjob

Oberyn Martell x prostitute!f!Reader

Oberyn is busy discussing important matters for the kingdom but he can't resist taking care of you as you sit thirsty on his lap.

Day 13 – Bondage

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Din tests new bondage techniques on you and decides to take advantage of how defenseless you are.

Day 14 – Sex Toys

husband!Marcus Moreno x wife!f!Reader

You and Marcus have decided to spice up your married life, so you're more than willing to let him test out on you the toys he bought.

Day 15 – Gun play

Javier Peña x prostitute!f!Reader

You've always been interested in Javier's work, but you've never brought it up with him before. He finally decides to show you what a DEA agent is capable of.

Day 16 – Wax play

lover!Marcus Acacius x f!Reader

Marcus loves watching you arch in pleasure beneath him, but he loves watching you squeal in pain and pleasure even more.

Day 17 – Mirror Sex

coworker!Jack Daniels x f!Reader

One of your missions went wrong and you ended up stuck in a mirror maze.

Day 18 – Nipple play

Dieter Bravo x f!Reader

Dieter loves spending lazy evenings cuddled up to you, but sometimes he also likes to interrupt you a little while you're reading a book.

Day 19 – Thigh Riding

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Din is often busy piloting the ship, which is why he doesn't have as much time for you as he would like, and because of that he doesn't mind for you using him for your own pleasure.

Day 20 – Double Penetration

Reed Richards x f!Reader x Marcus Moreno

Two superheroes have decided to save you from trouble, and you want to repay them.

Day 21 – Bath Sex

Jack Daniels x f!Reader

You were used to Jack often coming back hurt and sore. You always took care of him after each mission and bandaged his wounds but this time he needed more than just a few bandages.

Day 22 – Teasing

fiancé!Javier Peña x f!Reader

Your fiancé can't keep his hands to himself even when you're at a family dinner

Day 23 – Glory Hole

Dieter Bravo x f!Reader

Dieter sometimes had drug cravings and now he found himself in one. He didn't know how he ended up at a run-down gas station in the middle of the night but he knew he had met a nice woman who wanted to make his time more pleasant.

Day 24 – Voyeurism

Oberyn Martell x prostitute!f!Reader

Oberyn liked to please himself in many ways. Today he wanted to watch you and your friend have some fun together.

Day 25 – Somnophilia

boyfriend!Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Frankie often likes to cuddle in his sleep. He is also very sensitive to your touch, which is why you can't help yourself when he moans your name in his sleep again.

Day 26 – Ice play

pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Joel uses every moment your daughter is away to keep you in bed. He also likes to spice up your sex life with things he reads on the internet.

Day 27 – Public Sex

boyfriend!Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Your trip to see a movie took an unexpected turn when it turned out you were almost alone in the cinema.

Day 28 – Dom/Sub

lover!Marcus Acacius x f!Reader

After his failed conversation with the Emperor, Marcus needs to feel like he's in control of everything. You just so happen to be everything to him.

Day 29 – Period Sex

husband!Marcus Moreno x wife!f!Reader

Your husband helps you with period pain.

Day 30 – Praise Kink

Reed Richards x student!f!Reader

Reed likes to reward you for a job well done.

Day 31 – Hate Fucking

coworker!Jack Daniels x f!Reader

Another mission with Agent Whiskey tests your patience to the limits. The dislike is mutual, so you end up in each other's arms to numb the negative emotions.

COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

[puchosdementa]

i luv him guys this is real

[biggestsimponhere]

“I'd never sing of love if it does not exist, but darling, you are the only exception”

Once again this man is so hug shaped and i need a hug

[the-djarin-clan]

📸| Photoshoot for Esquire magazine - Norman Jean Roy

I wasn't ready for this….

[storiesforallfandoms]

littlest lion ~ oberyn martell;game of thrones

word count: 3182

request?: no

description: after witnessing the littlest lion sibling’s abuse at the hands of her queen sister, he decides that not all lannisters are as terrible as he once thought

pairing: oberyn martell x female!reader

warnings: swearing, verbal abuse (it’s cersei so...not surprisingly), much use of y/n, a little bit of a re-write on the canon of got to say that tywin had a second wife and another child so that it makes sense for the reader to be the youngest lannister

masterlist (one, two, three)

Everyone in all of Westeros knew the Lannister siblings to be cunning and pretentious. For the most part, those assumptions were right. Cersei and Jamie were definitely both of those things - Cersei more so than her twin brother - and Tyrion’s general distaste and apathy for everything could be misinterpreted as pretentious.

But then there was their youngest half sister, (YN).

Born to Tywin and his second wife after the death of his first, (Y/N) Lannister was the complete opposite to her older siblings. She was kind and shy, which often resulted in a verbal lashing from Cersei. Tyrion was indifferent to (Y/N), but treated her nice enough. Jamie just ignored her unless he was with Cersei. Cersei despised her sister with every fiber of her being. She never wasted a breath to inform (Y/N) that she wasn’t a real Lannister, despite her being a true born to Tywin.

She tried to pretend like Cersei’s words didn’t affect her. It would only result in more taunting if she did. But (Y/N) had spent countless nights in her chambers sobbing over whatever Cersei had said to her that day. She dreamed of the day she would be able to leave her sister’s kingdom (although technically it was her son, Joffrey’s, but everyone knew Cersei was the true leader), but it felt like that day would never come. (Y/N) was well into her adulthood with no prospects of getting married. It didn’t help that Tywin hadn’t arranged a suitor for her in her younger years, and now that Joffrey was king the task fell to him and Cersei, but Cersei would not approve of any suitors for her sister.

“She needs someone to bully,” Tyrion had told (Y/N) once. “The only way you will ever marry is if you manage to find someone who will take you away.”

(Y/N) hoped that Joffrey’s marriage would bring Cersei enough joy that she would not think to be cruel to her. (Y/N) made herself unseen to Cersei as much as possible while the wedding was happening, unless she was called upon.

Unfortunately for her, Cersei still found reason to call upon her.

(Y/N) entered the throne room where Cersei was speaking with Joffrey. She curtsied, waiting for the two to notice her. She was sure Cersei was intentionally keeping Joffrey’s attention when her legs began to shake, threatening to collapse from under her.

“You may rise, aunt,” Joffrey finally said.

(Y/N) stood straight. “Your grace, you summoned me?”

“Upon my mother’s request,” Joffrey confirmed. “She wishes to speak with you in regards to my wedding day.”

(Y/N) tried to keep her expression neutral as she turned to Cersei. “What can I do for you, sister?”

“Don’t call me that,” Cersei hissed.

“I apologize, my lady.”

“I called you here to ask what you intend to wear to the king’s wedding.”

(Y/N) blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Have you become hard of hearing? What do you intend to wear to your king’s wedding?” She enunciated each word as if (Y/N) were a child. Joffrey was smirking from his throne. He reveled in his mother’s cruelty just as he reveled in his own.

“I...I suppose a gown from my wardrobe,” (Y/N) said.

Cersei scoffed. “Please, your wardrobe is so common. It would be humiliating for you to show up like that.”

A lump began to form in (Y/N)’s throat, but she tried to swallow it down. “I have no other options, though, and the wedding is in a matter of days.”

“I’ll have to get my seamstress to work on a more appropriate gown for you then,” Cersei sighed.

(Y/N) felt a heavy pit in her stomach. It was starting to make sense why Cersei had called her here. It wasn’t truly to figure out suitable wear for the wedding. It was so Cersei could once again humiliate (Y/N). She had no doubts that her sister would have her seamstress make the most hideous dress for (Y/N) to wear to the wedding. It would be an embarrassment for (Y/N), and it would mean it would be less likely for any potential suitors to show interest in her.

Tears were welling in her eyes. She was trying to fight them back, but it was a losing battle. “May I be excused, your grace?”

Joffrey glanced at his mother. She sighed and turned away, so he waved (Y/N) off. As she began to leave, she heard Cersei tell her son, “What a pathetic woman.”

(Y/N) all but ran from the throne room. She hurried out the doors of the castle into the palace’s garden as her tears finally began to fall. Her body was wracked with sobs as she fell onto the nearest bench. She felt so struck and so helpless. She would never get out of Cersei’s clutches as long as she lived, and there was no one in the world who could save her.

“I wonder what it is that causes a lion to cry.”

(Y/N) jumped at the sound of a voice. She looked up to see a handsome man in a yellow robe stood in front of her.

“Apologies,” she said, quickly wiping the tears from her face. “I was no aware that there was anyone else here.”

“No need for apologies. This is your home, you are allowed to cry anywhere you wish.” He sat next to her, looking at her as if studying her. “But the question still stands: what makes a lion cry?”

“You know who I am.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyways, “Everyone in all of Westeros knows who the Lannisters are. Even if I didn’t, your golden hair would have been a clue.”

(Y/N) had to break their eye contact because this handsome man was intimidating her. Not in a bad way. His looks were just making her feel tongue tied.

“It was nothing,” she said. “I apologize for disturbing your peace.”

“The little lion is surprising,” he commented. “She cries, she apologies. Very un-Lannister.”

“I am no Lannister. At least, not to my own siblings.”

A look of realization passed his face. “I believe I am starting to understand.”

Tears were forming in her eyes again. She couldn’t cry in front of this stranger. Not again. It was bad enough that he had already caught her once. Cersei would have her head if she found out that (Y/N) was making the family name seem weak.

“Would you like to go for a walk, little lion?” he asked.

His voice was quiet and soothing. If she didn’t know any better, (Y/N) would’ve thought he was mocking her. But one look told her he was being genuine. A walk through the garden definitely sounded like a good idea.

He offered her his arm and she took it. As they stood, he told her, “My name is Oberyn Martell, brother of Doran Martell.”

“The Prince of Doran,” (Y/N) said.

Oberyn smiled. “You know of my family too, then.”

“One must know all the families of Westeros, as not to let down their guard,” (Y/N) recited. “Or to not make a fool.”

She could see Oberyn look at her, but she wouldn't dare look back at him. Instead, she changed the subject, “You must be here for my nephew’s wedding.”

“I am. My brother was invited, but he was very busy, so I am taking his lace.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy your stay then.”

“I am already enjoying it.”

(Y/N) smiled, her face burning from the compliment.

She showed Oberyn around the garden, the two of them trading stories and getting to know each other. For a brief moment, (Y/N) was able to forget about everything. It was a brief moment of happiness and feeling like she was actually wanted.

They came to stand at a perch that overlooked the kingdom. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden he over everything. (Y/N) was acutely aware of Oberyn’s hand brushing against her own, but was trying not to focus too much on it. Oberyn’s presence was starting to make her feel dizzy, but not in a bad way. It was an intoxicating feeling. She never wanted it to end, but at the same time she was worried about making a fool of herself in front of him.

“This visit has already brought many surprises for me,” Oberyn said.

“How so?” (Y/N) asked.

“For one, I have found that not all Lannisters are as terrible as their reputation would have it. And two, I am finding myself enjoying time with a Lannister.”

He lifted her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. She drew in a shakey breath at the action. Oberyn’s deep brown eyes were watching her again. She hoped her legs would not give out from underneath her as she felt them growing weak.

“I have been enjoying my time with you as well, my Lord,” she said.

“Please, call me Oberyn. I am but a second son, not a Lord. Besides, I do not intend for these formalities between us to last long.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You are ambitious.”

“I am a man who knows what he wants, and it is seldom that I do not get what it is that I want.”

Her heart was beating so fast she thought she may pass out, or that Oberyn may hear it. She had never had a man tell her that he wanted her, and she realized she had never wanted someone so much either. In just a short period of time, Oberyn had managed to completely steal her heart. There was nothing in the world that could ruin this moment, or this connection.

What she didn’t realize was that her sister was watching the two of them from inside the castle.

~~~~~~

The sun was nearly completely set when Oberyn and (Y/N) finally parted ways. He had kissed her hand once more and told her he would come looking for her the next day. (Y/N) was so lightheaded that she practically floated back to her room. She was just about to enter her chambers when a voice asked, “Did you have a good evening with the Dornish prince?”

She turned quickly to see Cersei stood at the end of the long hall. Suddenly, everything came crashing back down to Earth around her.

“He is very lovely,” she responded. “I apologize that he kept me for so long. I did not intend to miss out on dinner.”

“It was lovely without you.” 

(Y/N) winced. She put her hand back on her door, intending to escape into her room and hopefully salvage whatever good feelings she could from her time with Oberyn.

“I know you are not wise, (Y/N), but I truly hope you are not stupid enough to fall for Oberyn Martell.”

(Y/N) looked at her sister in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that he is not a man who settles for one woman. Everyone knows that he will fuck anything that walks - man or woman. He was already visiting the brothel here before his arrival.”

Her breathing began to increase. “I...I didn’t...”

“Oh my word,” Cersei breathed. “You have fallen for him, haven’t you?”

The tears were forming again. (Y/N) quickly blinked them away so that Cersei wouldn’t see. “He was treated me as if I was an actual person. That is more than I can say for anyone in this castle. I apologize if it makes me stupid because I was happy to feel wanted for once in my life.”

“He only made you feel that way so he could take your maidenhood,” Cersei retorted. “He will not make you a wife, he will make you a whore. And then he will return to Dorne while you are here, weeping over his departure even though you were the fool who fell for him. It will be left to me to pick up the pieces he left behind.”

Cersei was shaking her head as she turned to leave. (Y/N) was hoping that she could finally escape her sister’s cruelty for the night, but then Cersei paused to add, “I mean, really, (Y/N). Why would a prince of all people want to marry someone like you? The last born child, from a second marriage, who has not been wed by the time she reached her maturing age? You are pathetic.”

(Y/N) didn’t wait for Cersei to leave. She shoved into her room and slammed the door shut. Her tears began to fall before the door was fully closed. She didn’t even have the strength to make it to her bed this time. She collapsed into a heap against the door, burying her head in her skirts as she began to sob.

How could she be such a fool? How could she let herself believe that she had finally found someone who wanted her? That she might just escape from Cersei once and for all? What Cersei had said may have been cruel, but (Y/N) knew there must be some truth behind the words. There was nothing remarkable about (Y/N) that would draw in the attention of someone like Oberyn, unless he just wanted to try and get into her bed. He saw her at her weakest and he preyed on that, the same way that Cersei always had.

“Stupid,” (Y/N) whispered to herself through her tears. “You are stupid.”

A knock came at the door.

“Go away!” (Y/N) called through her tears. She wasn’t in the mood for anyone to see her like this, or to have to be humiliated further.

“It is me, little lion.”

She paused. How had he found her room? Why had he come for her? Surely he wasn’t about to try to get into her bed already.

Against her better judgement, she stood and opened the door. When he saw her tearstained face, Oberyn’s expression filled with sadness. He reached for her, and she allowed him to pull her into his embrace.

“I am so sorry you are treated this way,” he said.

“Did you hear?” she asked.

He nodded. “I will admit, I followed you once we had separated. I wanted to see if you would be intercepted by either of your siblings before you reached your room. I saw the Queen Regent approaching, so I kept a distance to hear what she would say to you.”

“Then you heard what she told me about you.”

(Y/N) pulled away from Oberyn. She knew she shouldn’t listen to anything Cersei said, but she couldn’t help that her sister’s words had once against gotten to her.

“I did,” Oberyn confirmed.

“And is it true?”

“It is true that I went to a brothel before I arrived at the castle. It is true that I enjoy intimacy from anyone who is willing to give it to me, regardless of gender. But it is not true that I was only kind to you to try and take your maidenhood. What I said in the garden, I meant it.”

“Why?” (Y/N) asked. “Why would you want me? Out of all the beautiful women that I am sure you have seen, both noble and not, why is it me that you desire for?”

He cupped her face. He wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumbs as he looked down at her. “Because I believe you to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

(Y/N) scoffed, but Oberyn said, “It is true. From the moment I saw you in the garden, weeping over what I am sure was another verbal lashing from your sister, I was taken by your beauty. You are a beautiful woman, both inside and out. I am completely taken by you, (Y/N), and it upsets me greatly that you are made to think that you do not deserve that kind of love.”

She wanted to be happy by what Oberyn was saying. She did believe him. She could see the sincerity in his eyes. But knowing that Oberyn was taken by her that much just made her heart ache more, because she knew that they would never be allowed to be together.

“Cersei will never approve,” she said. “She will not let me marry and escape this place. If you show any interest in me, or voice that you want me to be your wife, she will deny it.”

“Then I will take you away from here.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

Oberyn looked over his shoulder to be sure no one was around. (Y/N) stepped back into her room and motioned for him to follow. She closed her door, giving them some privacy to speak freely.

“She cannot stop me if I take you before she realizes you are gone,” he said. “We can leave after the king’s wedding and return to Dorne immediately. She cannot stop you once you’ve already gone, and if she tries then you will have an army of Dornish men waiting to defend you. Myself included.”

“How will we get my things out of here before she can stop us?” (Y/N) asked, glancing around her room.

“Pack what is essential,” Oberyn told her. “Just one bag of essential things. Whatever you cannot fit I will replace once we return to Dorne. We can put it in my carriage before the wedding, and once it all ends we will leave immediately. I did not intend to stay long after the ceremony anyways, so it will not seem suspicious if I take my leave so quickly.”

Tyrion’s words were playing in (Y/N)’s head. “The only way you will ever marry is if you manage to find someone who will take you away.” She had thought for so long that it was an unreachable desire to find someone who would want to take her away. She almost wanted to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming.

“You would really do that for me?” she asked.

“Of course I would, my little lion,” he said. “You do not deserve the life that you are living here. Even if you do not want me, I will still take you away and let you live a happier life.”

“I want you,” she whispered, almost worried that saying it out loud would make everything fall apart.

But Oberyn heard her, and he smiled. “When we are in Dorne, I will court you as I should, then I will make you my wife.”

(Y/N) couldn’t find the words to say how much she wanted that. She just smiled, then leaned into Oberyn’s embrace. She mentally counted the days until she could be free from her prison, but then decided not to think of how long till it would happen. Instead, she focused on what she was going to have after she had finally gotten out of there.

Oberyn.

[thebookbutterfly]

Hey there! Could you possibly write a Sandor Clegane x gender neutral reader where Sandor has a soft spot for reader and reader feels the same? He tries to hide it but one day reader get’s hurt and he patches them up and maybe confessions come out?

🦋 Little Bird— Sandor Clegane x gn!Reader

Summary: You get injured in an ambush. Sandor carries you to safety and takes care of you.

Tags: #so much hurt/comfort, #a teensy bit of angst, #fluffy ending, #potentially OOC Sandor Clegane but personally I think he is pretty baby girl, #request

Warnings: Gender Neutral, no use of Y/N, descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of death, cannon compliant threats of violence, no beta and no ‘ragrets' [1,371 words]

AN: This is a request by @agender-wolfie. I really hope that this is what you were looking for! It came out a bit longer than I intended, but I am such a sucker for hurt/comfort tropes I really shouldn’t be surprised lmao. I wrote this all in one sitting and I haven’t done any editing so please excuse any errors. Happy reading! 🦋 Love BB

If you like this work my requests are currently open! So please give me your ideas ;)

You hissed a curse, gravelly and threadbare, as Sandor sidestepped another fallen tree.

A jumble of vulgar expressions that barely registered to you as they left your mouth. Almost all of them taught to you by the giant man holding you to his chest. The hound cradled you surprisingly gently, but his tension was evident. It was written all over him.

His scarred face, which you so rarely got the opportunity to study, was pulled into a broken grimace. The rest of him taut like a wire ready to snap beneath his armour. If you weren’t bleeding all over him, you might have reached up to prod the furrow of his brow. A silly attempt to smooth away Sandor’s permanent scowl.

The thought shattered as another wave pain tore through your ribs. Every bump in the path sowing fresh agony in the ruined skin and muscle.

Sandor ran a calloused thumb over the side of your knee in apology. Uttering clumsy noises of comfort as he picked up the pace.

“We’re almost there. Hold on just a bit longer, little bird.”

His gruff voice was cut with a noticeable amount of panic. Your brow scrunched at the unusual sound. You had gotten used to many things about Sandor as you travelled North with him. His rough sense of humour, bitter attitude, scarred face and huge stature were familiar to you by now. Underneath those things, his kindness and his softheartedness had become apparent to you too.

All the vulnerable pieces of himself that he smothered and choked beneath layers of vulgar humour and recklessness, had been presented to you in glimpses as you got to know him. But panic? Panic was new to you.

The farmhouse that Sandor had marked out in the distance finally drew into view. Up close it was a measly grey thing. The stone masonry looked haphazard at best but its chimney puffed with life. Behind it a barn lay with its doors open and rattling in the freezing wind.

You expected Sandor to head straight for the shelter of the barn but instead he strode to the front door. The family of four, seated around the dining room table inside, scrambled back as he slammed open the door with his usual subtlety. Which was to say— none at all.

You groaned as the sudden movement jostled your wound. Normally you would have chastised him for being so rude but your head was swimming. Too weak to lift your hand, you focused your energy on your eyes. Willing them to stay open, if not for your sake then for the sake of your worried companion.

An old man stepped forward to speak but Sandor cut him off, “One of you better be a healer, because if they die I will mount all of your heads outside on sticks.”

It was an ugly threat and they paled. The youngest boy whimpered looking suddenly ill. A younger woman with dark hair and a generous smattering of freckles stepped forward. She gestured a slightly shaky hand towards the table before him, before turning to her family.

“Clear the table, quickly. We can lay them down here,” her attention shifted back to the massive man standing in the doorway, “I’m not a healer by profession but I’ll do everything I can.”

Sandor seemed pleased enough by this answer. The rest of the family had been wise enough not to put up a fight and so Sandor stepped forward. He eased his grip and lay you down on the hastily cleared surface.

He moved to step away and let this stranger do her work but you whimpered. Fingertips clutching at air until he shifted back into reach.

A leather belt was stuffed between your teeth as your tunic was torn up the side. Unfamiliar hands grasped at your arms and legs. Holding you down with a bruising grip. All the while, Sandor brushed his bloodied fingers over your forehead and through your hair. The warmth of his skin a small consolation for the pain you were about to endure.

The woman lifted a needle and thread. With a glance at Sandor and his affirming nod she began to count down and you closed your eyes, unable to look.

Three.

Two.

One.

Fire. Your body was on fire. You arched off the table. Trying to escape the agony, the needle slowly piecing your flesh back together. The table shook as you thrashed but the hands holding you down didn’t falter. Sandor’s gravely words of comfort were the last things ringing in your ears as the world went black.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first thing that you noticed when you woke up was the lack of pain. Your side still ached, the wound tender, but it was a dull throbbing now. No longer, the screaming torture it was as Sandor carried you away from where you were ambushed.

The second was the warmth. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this warm since you and Sandor had journeyed across the border into the North. Sandor.

You opened your eyes slowly. The lighting was dim but from what you could tell you were inside the barn. The door was closed now though and soft orange candlelight illuminated the space.

You lay on your good side underneath a thick layer of blankets, and next to you lay the man your eyes sought for. His arm tucked you to him, large calloused hand resting somewhere on your lower back.

His heart thudded rhythmically beneath where your head lay on his chest. His even breathing and faint snores filled the quiet. Despite your inner protests it was the most comfortable you had been in years.

You gazed up at him, not wanting to wake him just yet. Sandor didn’t sleep nearly enough and you were content to watch the way the candlelight danced across his skin. It caught on his scarred cheek. Shadows flickering on the panes of his face.

Unable to resist you lifted a hand to his cheek. Your touch was featherlight but his eyes snapped open. Sandor’s gaze flicked to you immediately. Scanning you for distress and finding none, his body relaxed.

“Seven Hells, I thought you were going to die. Never do that again,” he said gruffly. His cheeks were flushed but he made no move to shift away from you.

Your voice was cracked from screaming but you still managed to mumble, “M’Sorry.”

Sandor sighed, “It wasn’t your fault, little bird.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a water-skein. Unscrewing the top he held it out towards you.

“Here, drink. Then you can go back to sleep,” he said.

“Thank you.”

The moisture eased the pain in your throat and soon you were snuggled back up under Sandor’s arm. The wind howled through the rafters and you both sat in silence for a little while.

Your thoughts broke the quiet, “Thank you for carrying me here. Thank you for staying.”

Sandor’s eyes met yours, they were unguarded and soft in a way that seemed reserved for you. Reserved for these conversations in the dark.

His voice was low as he replied, “I would have carried you to the ends of the earth, little bird.”

You studied him, the scars that mottled his skin, the cut on his brow and the curl of his mouth. Something deep within you settled, like a cat stretching out on a rug.

“You’re a good man, Sandor Clegane,” you said.

The conviction in your voice hit him harder than any blow on the battlefield ever had. The tidal wave of emotions that followed threatened to take him under but he swallowed them down.

You pretended not to notice his watery eyes and he lifted his spare hand to stroke your head. “Go to sleep, I’ll keep you safe.”

You nodded sleepily, too tired to fight it off any longer. A few seconds pass before you feel it. The soft press of his lips on your forehead. They linger there for a while before he pulls back, the warmth that they leave behind searing like a brand on your skin. You smile as you drift off, lulled to sleep by his warm embrace and steady breathing.

“Goodnight, little bird.”

[wardenparker]

Mysterious Masquerade, part 1

Oberyn Martell x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 15.5k Warnings: Food/alcohol, cursing, flirting and sexy themes. Discussions of financial situations and economic hardship that might make some readers uncomfortable, but I promise it all ends well. Summary: There is no way that you or your best friend could have known that crashing the big Martell family Halloween masquerade would change your lives forever. Notes: Sugar Daddy Oberyn was just calling my name, what can I say?

It's opulence at its best. Silken black and purple fabrics drape the walls and reflect the shimmers back from the ornate wall sconces that light the ballroom. Women and men, scantily clad and their faces are covered black lace demi masks carry trays of succulent hors d'oeuvres and crisp, bubbly champagne. The contortionist twins breathing fire from a raised platform is in the middle of the ballroom, surrounded by dancing couples. The revelers are high spirited, dressed to impress despite their faces being covered, anonymity and the freedom to be whomever they wish tonight. The Martell Annual Halloween Masquerade is an undeniable success and the evening is still young.

“I can’t believe we actually got in!” You hiss, clutching your best friend’s hand as the two of you pass through the lavish ballroom. This mansion must be as old as the fabled Martell family itself, though no one quite knows how old that really is. The history has been mired in so much fable that they’re just part of the fabric of the city at this point.

When she had come to you with extravagant costumes and flimsy masks with this plan of crashing the annual Halloween party that was so legendary that the musicians were famous headliners and the food was prepared by celebrity chefs? You had balked. You had insisted that staying home and watching a slasher marathon with snacks and boozy autumnal cocktails was enough.

But she was totally right to think she could pull this off, apparently.

Oberyn watches from the balcony above, satisfied as he watches couple dance and drink. His own glass of champagne in his hand and he takes a sip. "Lover." He smiles, turning to find the dark, kohl lined eyes of his paramour watching him from behind the edges of her elaborate mask. He hated the masks himself, but it was part tradition, part relief. If he was not discovered, he could shrug off the trappings of his name and reputation for the night. Every other day he enjoys his title of the Red Viper, but for some reason tonight it doesn't seem appropriate. He hums, slowly taking in the beautiful view of her costume, the slinky fabric enhancing her lithe form. "Ellaria." He coos. "You look stunning."

“I should hope so.” She agrees, the sultry swing of her hips enhancing the movement of the shimmering dress. She’s dressed as Cleopatra, but without a single thought to any kind of accuracy. “I am stitched into the thing, thread by thread. Whomever I take to bed tonight had better have a seam ripper.”

He chuckles. “I’m surprised you haven’t already picked them out.” He teases. “There are so many choices.”

"Everyone I have danced with so far has been boring," she frowns dramatically. "But it is early." Ellaria enjoys the process of choosing less than Oberyn does. Once she finds someone that captures her attention, she likes to then explore that one, single option. Oberyn vastly prefers the game of cat and mouse with his temporary lovers.

"I am sure someone will catch your pretty eyes." He reaches up and pinches her chin playfully. "The party is a success." He hums, looking back around the room and spying a new set of attendees arriving.

“It always is.” She never doubts his ability to make sure those around him enjoy themselves, but Ellaria leans in to kiss him and lovingly tugs at the waist of his costume to nudge him along. “Go and mingle, lover. Bask in your guests’ enjoyment. Find a girl or boy to take upstairs.” She winks, and plants one last kiss on his lips. “Or both.”

He smirks and knows that he will find someone. He always does. "Have fun." He winks at her and pushes away from the balcony, interested to see the new arrivals. Even though they are masked, he doesn't believe he knows them.

“This champagne probably cost more than my entire outfit,” you murmur, sipping the glass as the two of you wade through the crowd. There is food everywhere and a huge band on stage, and a rumor that some big international singer would be here tonight. If you listened to the radio more you would probably have recognized the name.

Oberyn moves through the crowd, his eyes on the pair of ladies as they sip champagne and gawk at the surroundings. Obviously not used to the parties that are thrown here. It amuses him, all the security he has and he has been the one to find a pair of party crashers.

“This is the fanciest party I’ve ever seen.” Your friend breathes, eyes wide as she beholds the absolute pinnacle of luxury: an entire table full of multiple levels of charcuterie. “If I die tonight, make sure we have one of these at my funeral.”

“Same.” You swear solemnly, squeezing her head before you bust out in giggles.

"It is better to eat it than stare at it." Oberyn leans over one lady's shoulder and murmurs his comment. "Although it is almost as delectable as you two this evening."

Your flapper dresses jingle and swing when you both startle, turning inwardly to face the man who has come up between you. Dressed in a gleaming white and gold Roman soldier costume, he looks absolutely resplendent. It’s all you can do to swallow instead of stare, but your best friend answers. “Sometimes you just have to appreciate a thing of beauty.”

"I appreciate beauty in all forms," Oberyn agrees, taking your hand and clasping in his, "and yet I find myself captivated." You are beautiful, even with half of your face covered and he knows he has never met you before.

"You have excellent taste." Your friend blows you a kiss and sashays away, leaving you breathless and frozen with your hand held in this handsome new acquaintance's. You'll kick her ass for abandoning you later, right now you're trying to remember how to do anything but stare. He's handsome and broad, with sharp angles to his jaw and thick biceps shown off nicely by the tunic he's wearing.

"I have always believe that to be true." He has no problems with his own sense of self-esteem, men and women fall at his feet when they meet him. This however, is a challenge because it is obvious that you do not recognize him.

"Always?" His voice sounds vaguely familiar but you can't place it -- then again, why would you recognize the voice of anyone here? It isn't as though you run in the kind of circles that would have gotten you invited to this party. You did have to crash, after all. "Then you must have some very interesting choices to make."

He hums and turns you towards the table. "Life is full of choices." He muses. "It is all in what whets your appetite at the time." He pics up a prosciutto wrapped melon slice. Holding it up to your lips as an offering.

Is this how rich people flirt? The thought flits across your mind just only a millisecond before you open your mouth, accepting the bite out of curiosity as much as obedience. Feeding people can be a love language. It certainly is for your family, so you're no stranger to being offered things to try. "Sometimes you have to try more than one thing to find precisely where your tastes lie," you reply politely, when the cured ham is delicious but the melon not quite to your taste.

He chuckles, guaging that it wasn't your favorite and he decides that something sweeter is more in line with your tastes. "Absolutely" He agrees, picking up a chocolate ganache and cream puff pastry and offers it to you. "Tasting everything you can is one of the few true pleasures in life."

"Something tells me you've sampled everything you possibly can." It isn't a judgement, but this time when you open your mouth you feel just a touch more playful about it. Is it a little weird? Sure. But between this guy's physique and his accent, you don't need to see his whole face to know he's easily the hottest guy you've ever flirted with.

The cream puff is creamy and sweet but the dark chocolate is just a touch bitter, which is nice but still not quite hitting the mark for you. "What is your favorite thing here? Don't try to guess mine."

That is easy for him. Picking up a fig and rosemary cracker, he selects a slice of creamy bree and tops it with a plump blackberry before picking up the little honey comb wand from a small pot of honey to drizzle over the top of it all. When the bite is assembled, he turns to hand it to you. "Take a sip of your champagne after the bite." He instructs.

This is more like it. The bite is towering, imposing, and mouthwatering, and when requires commitment rather than a dainty or demure nibble. You go in without hesitation, moaning happily as each individual flavor bursts on your tongue and then melds together into something brilliantly harmonious. The champagne finish is like a crescendo -- the last unexpected peak of the roller coaster ride that you weren't quite expecting. By the time you finish it, you're giggling. "That's amazing," you commend, dabbing a touch of loose honey away from the corner of your mouth.

"It is." He smiles, enjoying your enjoyment of the bite he had made. He takes a sip of his own glass and hums. "Fresh and sweet, with a hint of savory."

"Complex." You commend, wondering if that is also his taste in partners. "Depth is important."

"What would be your choice?" He asks, curious to see what you view as the perfect bite.

A self-proclaim charcuterie enthusiast, you apply yourself to the table with aplomb, and compose a bite using a crusty round of puff pastry, a triangle of sharp and salty gruyere, sweet unctuous apricot jam, and a shard of crispy serrano pepper to top it all off. This is offered to him with absolute confidence, knowing that you have converted a hell of a lot of your friends to understanding the value in good ingredients with this very bite. "Try this."

He tilts his head at the offering, but he takes it with a small smirk. "I have to admit, I am charmingly surprised by the pepper." He says before he pops the bite into his mouth and chews cautiously, tasting the flavors as they burst on his tongue.

"Heat is an underrated aspect of many different things in life," you assert, watching his eyes flutter shut to enjoy the full experience. That's enough to let you know you've convinced him.

“Heat is just another word for passion.” He agrees after swallowing. “It is good that I enjoy it.”

"I had a feeling you might." He gives off that aura, anyway. Even if this is just a character he's put on for tonight, he's wearing it very well.

Oberyn asks your name. “I don’t believe I have seen you around before.” He coos. “I would have remembered a woman as passionate as you.”

"Daisy," you tell him, pulling the first flapper name you can possibly think of out of your mind, grateful you can remember the name of the love interest in The Great Gatsby off the top of your head.

He knows immediately that it is not your real name, but he appreciates the game you are starting. “Marcus Acacius.” He introduces himself, bowing slightly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Daisy.”

“Ought I to call you ‘General’?” Appreciative that he is willing to play the game, you offer him a curtsy in turn.

“Only in bed.” He chuckles.

"Noted," you agree, laughing along with him.

Your glass is nearly empty, so the next time a man wearing nothing more than a g-string and a mask walks around with a tray of glasses, he snags a fresh one for you. His eyes watching the man’s ass as he walks off before smirking at you. “The servers are all…stimulating, are they not?”

"They are a beautiful part of the decor." It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he likes the view, so you aren't going to point out that it's more than a little exhibitionist. For you, putting someone so utterly on display is hit or miss. But you've convinced yourself that they're all okay with it to make yourself more comfortable.

“Do you not like them?” He tilts his head, curiously by the slight pause in your answer. It’s no secret that his parties - while infamous - have never been photographed. People speculate and those invited never tell.

"Oh, it's not that I don't appreciate the beauty of a bare body," you rush to explain. Have you hit a nerve? Did he help design the party or something? "I guess I just...enjoy the reveal. Taking a lover to bed and getting to see their body bared for me bit by bit? It's the appetizer to the feast that will last all night."

“I see.” He can appreciate your honesty. “And you like to feast? Choosing a lover and hoping they do not disappoint you?” He smirks. “You would not like to have line of naked men line up, cocks hard while you choose which one you wish to ride?”

Alright, so it's not like you've never watched that kind of porn, but you take a sip from your fresh glass of champagne and shrug. "I can't say that I've ever had the chance. So I don't know."

“I am sure you would just need to ask.” He turns back to the table to pick up a few grapes. “A gorgeous woman like you would have her pick. Unless you prefer the touch of a woman?”

"You seem to be very talented at asking questions specifically on things I've never tried," you admit. In an uncharacteristically bold move, you take the grape directly from his fingers when he offers it. The offers at the charcuterie table seem to have given you a bit of extra confidence. "But what about you? Do you enjoy every offer you get? That would be both unusual and commendable."

“There have been some offers that I have declined.” Oberyn admits easily. “But I think that is normal for everyone, no?”

“I think so.” You both sip your drinks, letting the moment settle around you, and give your attention to the stage when the music changes. A new singer has been introduced and the crowd is clapping wildly around you.

Oberyn watches as the famous performer walks up onto the stage. Her appearance here was a personal favor to him, although he had insisted on paying her. He would never have it said that he took advantage. “Have you watched her perform live before?” He asks, watching you frown in confusion as you try to figure out who she is.

“I…don’t get out much,” you admit, by way of saying ‘no’. Work-life balance has long been negated by the sheer desire to keep a roof over your head and food in the refrigerator, so you haven’t been to a live anything in years.

He hums and gestures towards the stage. “Then you should enjoy this.” He takes a sip of his champagne and sets it down. “Shall we get closer?”

His formality doesn’t make him any less of an intriguing or welcoming presence, and when he sets his glass down and offers you his arm, you can’t resist. It might be the first time ever that a man has offered you his arm like a gentleman.

Oberyn knows the best place to watch and he guides you towards it. “So Daisy, have you attended many of the Red Viper’s parties?” He asks. “Or is this your first time?”

“Oh, this is definitely a first.” The place he brings you to is to the side of the stage directly at the front, and the singer is both obviously talented and obviously committed to putting on a show. While a lot of people are still dancing, at least half the party has stopped to watch. “You?”

“Practically every one.” He replies without irony. It’s actually more of a challenge of you don’t recognize him.

“I can’t imagine missing this if you could help it.” The opulence and beauty of what you’ve seen so far are beautiful. If you could, you would certainly be here all the damn time.

Another tray of champagne is brought around and Oberyn looks over at your half-drunk glass. “Do you want another, or are you content for the moment?”

“I’m okay right now.” The last thing you want to do is drink too much and get sloppy or embarrass yourself. The risk of getting discovered as a party crasher is high enough as it is. “But don’t let be stop you.”

“I actually prefer to drink wine over champagne.” He admits, motioning the server over. “Please bring a bottle of the Dornish red and two glasses.” He instructs.

The waiter obeys him instantly and you watch with barely disguised surprise. The authority in his voice just is that commanding, and your mind flits momentarily back to the half-joke that he should only be called general in bed.

“You must try it.” He insists. “Even if you don’t have much. The Dornish red is perhaps the best vintage of wine you will ever have.”

“It’s always on everyone’s lists of best wine in the world.” The lists you read while you buy your cheap yet delicious bottle of Chilean red. “I’ve…I admit, I’ve always wanted to try it.”

“Then you are in for a treat.” He murmurs. “You know the Martell estate produces the wine, no?” He loves to talk about his family, but he’s careful to frame it has interesting facts. “It’s been made here for over four hundred years.”

"It's supposed to be wonderful." You do know that much, even if you've never had the opportunity to try it. "Do you..." About to ask him if he works on the vineyard judging from the pride in his voice, you decide to pivot. Not knowing is more fun. "Do you find it a favorite?"

“It is.” He doesn’t tell you that he’s been drinking this wine since he was a child, knowing that would make things too obvious. The intrigue about you is tickling his curiosity. “What is yours?”

"It's low brow compared to Dornish red." Where most people are truly giving their undivided attention to the singer, you've continued your conversation. The idea that he finds you just as interesting as a pop star is flattering to say the least. "There is a Chilean label called Casillero del Diablo that I love." Feeling self conscious, you shrug your shoulders and laugh. "It tastes fancy without breaking the bank. That's good enough for me."

“Casillero is a good wine.” He nods, finding it amusing that you would be self conscious because what a wine costs. “I have had many a bottle myself. It is especially good with an exceptional paella.”

"I'll have to give that a try." Not that you've ever tried to make paella in your entire life, but Casillero has made your meat sauce taste the best it's ever been.

The server that was sent for the Roman General's bottle has returned, and approaches the two of you through a crowd with his gleaming tray carrying a bottle with two glasses. He offers your companion a flirtatious smile and you a wink, making you wonder if everyone at this party is just here to flirt with everyone else.

“Good man.” Oberyn praises, approving of the bottle already being opened and allowed to breathe. Scooping up one of the glasses, Oberyn pours a small taster of it, giving it the requisite sniff and small taste before he pours a larger quantity in the glass and offers it to you. “Unless you would prefer to not drink after me?” He asks.

"I don't mind." It feels bold and a little sexy. Flirtatious, just like everyone else at the party. "You say it's your favorite? Then I'm sure it will be sinful."

His eyes light up, enjoying how forward you are with a coy smile. “It is delicious.” He agrees as he pours himself a glass.

The first sip bursts on your tongue with deep cherry and juicy plum tones wrapped in the smoky tones of the aging barrel. Something subtle untied it that you can’t quite place and you hum happily as the first beautiful taste warms your throat. “It’s incredible.”

“Hmmmm.” He takes his own sip. “It’s like tasting a beautiful woman for the first time.”

That is just a touch more bold than you ever would have even thought to be, and your eyes widen as you take your second sip. It takes all the effort in the world not to do a spit take out of sheer surprise, but you have a feeling that that was somehow the point of the comment.

He smirks when he sees your eyes widen behind the mask and he wants to ask your opinion on that, but he doesn’t. Instead he just watches you with a growing hunger, aware that despite Ellaria normally picking her lover first, he had found who he wishes to take to bed.

Aside from being delicious, the wine is fairly strong, and you slowly sip your glass while the singer performs on stage. She's wonderful, of course, and after a few songs you have never heard before there is finally one you recognize your best friend playing – which makes your eyes scan the crowd wondering if you can find her. Wherever she is in the room, she must be geeking out.

******

“You are so sweet.” Ellaria coos, stroking her finger down the young woman’s face. “Would you like to meet her after she is done singing?”

Lizzy's eyes widen the same way yours did over the comment from Oberyn about the wine, though neither of you know the irony in your reactions being identical and at nearly the same time. "You could—could do that?" She asks, wondering who this woman is who had swept her up in a dance only a few moments ago.

“Of course I could.” She smirks and winks at her playfully. “She is a close friend of mine.” She admits and reaches for another glass of champagne to drink.

"Who are you?" Lizzy breathes in wonder, staring at the gorgeous woman who came into her orbit like a whirlwind and continues to swirl and shine.

Her laughter is soft, yet powerful. A woman who is truly comfortable in her own skin and the power she wields. “Tonight, call me your fairy godmother, darling.” She teases, leaning in and kissing her lips softly. “Watch the performance. I am sure Trinity would love to hear feedback.”

"What feedback could I possibly give?" The absolute wonder on her face is enough, and both women are grinning for entirely separate reasons as they turn back to the stage.

******

“You seem like you are looking for someone?” He would be terribly disappointed if you were meeting someone here. Although he’s not opposed to threesomes.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude." You also didn't mean to be obvious about looking, but you've clearly failed in that. "My best friend. We came together and got separated, that's all. I'm sure she's fine."

“It is no problem.” He assures you, relaxing slightly. A friend. “Would you like to find her? Or……” he shrugs slightly, leaving it up to your interpretation.

"I'm sure she's fine," you repeat, mostly to reassure yourself. Lizzy is far better in unknown social situations than you are. After all, she's the one who talked you past the security guards. Taking another sweep of the crowd, you finally look up and spot her glossy red hair and striking black flapper dress in the balcony. Against the railing. Balustrade? Whatever you call it when it's in the ballroom of a house. "Oh," you breathe, relieved. "There she is. I just...didn't want her to miss this. She loves this singer."

Oberyn follows your gaze and smirks when he sees a very familiar figure next to her. “It seems as if she has found some company for the performance.”

"I'm not surprised." Or even taken a little bit aback by how fast it happened. Lizzy's always been lucky in love, no matter what the level. "Sorry again," you murmur to your own companion. "I just...we take care of each other. That's all."

“Do not apologize for looking after your friend.” He shakes his head gently. “That is admirable.”

That softens your expression in an entirely different way, and you lean slightly into your handsome companion's side. "I just didn't want you to think I wasn't interested, that's all."

“I can tell you are interested.” He tilts his head. “It is just a matter of you acting on it, I think.”

Your cheeks are on fire immediately, eyes glancing away out of sheer embarrassment. Is it really that obvious? And are you really that obvious? You ought to feel ashamed but all you can feel it the heat in your veins. "I'm...not terribly good at figuring out if that sort of thing is welcome. Which is why I hardly ever do."

“I can assure that that any move you make would be met with enthusiasm.” He chuckles softly, taking another sip of his wine. “All you have to do is ask to see the room I am staying in tonight.”

"I—" Your head tilts out of sheer surprise. "Really?"

“Why are you looking so surprised?” Oberyn sets his wine down and he light brushes his hand over your ass, hovering right over it before sliding up to your hip. “You are gorgeous and have captured my interest.” He smirks. “Party crashers do that.”

"How could you possibly—?" Your confusion only deepens, though now your side is flooded from heat with his hand.

“Know that you didn’t receive an invitation?” He winks at you from under his mask. “Some secrets are best kept just that, Daisy.” He coos. “Do you want to finish the concert, or shall I give you a private tour of the west wing of the house?”

The possibility that this man is the legendary Oberyn Martell never even crosses your mind. That would be too unbelievable. But surely he works for him. Or is a family member. Or is somehow connected to the man who owns this mansion, multiple Martell family businesses, and half the city to boot. Whoever he is? He's handsome, smells sinfully good, and is looking at you like he's going to devour you. So you straighten out your spine and decide to give yourself a fantastic story out of tonight. "How about we top off our glasses and go for a tour?"

“Atta girl.” He chuckles. “You have spirit and that is something that I will enjoy when I hear you scream again and again in pleasure.” He picks up the wine bottle and drains it between your glass and his.

"Is that a promise or a threat" You joke, suddenly wishing you were wearing a far flashier and more alluring costume.

“Both.” He chuckles darkly and leans into whisper in your ear. “I can guarantee a night you will never forget.”

"Well damn." Hiding your thudding, thundering heart behind a coy smile, you can't hide the shiver that runs down your spine. "What are we waiting for?"

He smirks victoriously and turns to offer you his arm. “Nothing, my little dove.” He promises. “We are waiting for nothing.”

The gold bracelets on his wrists are cool on the tips of your fingers as you wrap one hand around his arm, wondering what the hell you could possibly be thinking and also how fucking sexy he is. It's truly unfair. Or it would be. If you weren't the one on his arm right now. He leads you away from the stage and to the outer rim of the room, surveying things as he goes but always bringing his eyes back to you. It really gives you the impression of a prince surveying his kingdom, and purely in a way that makes you squeeze your thighs together.

******

The morning light starts to peek on from the edge of the heavy velvet curtains. Making Oberyn grunt and roll over out of the spearing ray that lands on his cheek. The night had been spent in darkness, keeping the thrill of the game alive despite your bodies being stripped to the skin. Now his eyes open, landing on your face for the first time without the mask you had been wearing.

It might be the best night's sleep you've ever had. Certainly the most comfortable bed you've ever slept in, and the most luxurious sheets you've ever had wrapped around you. When he allowed for it anyway. Your general is a giving and pampering lover but also a human blanket. He had kept you tight in his arms for most of the night until eventually turning away sometime in the middle of your deep and uplifting dreams.

You are still sleeping, making him smirk as he shifts closer. Last night had been intoxicating and fun. You had been enthusiastic and vocal, willing to let him do anything he wanted to you under the cover of darkness. Now, he wants to see what you look like in the light.

The warmth and weight of him is what drags you from your dreams, making the gardens of your unconscious world drift away as you float back down into your body, only to hum from somewhere deep in your chest as you register the low rumble of him beside you.

“You are waking up, Princess?” He asks softly, curling up against you again.

“Mm.” You turn instinctively, burying yourself in the warmth of someone who is clearly just waking up as well. This isn’t one of those one-night-stands where you jump out of bed and run away afterward. This is slow and luxurious. “Morning,” you murmur, cracking your eyes open.

“Morning.” His fingers slide down the curve of your spine and he palms your ass to pull you closer for that first morning kiss that he always enjoys.

The hunger from last night is still there, though the immediacy has ebbed a little. As though he is aware this morning as having all the time in the world. You sweep your tongue through his mouth just as eagerly as he does yours, savoring the lingering intimacy. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” He chuckles, finding himself relaxed despite knowing that the party had continued on into the early hours of the morning. Stragglers would still be sleeping where they had passed out or adjourned to find privacy. The clean up from the night’s activities would not begin until well into the afternoon. Brunch would not even be served to those that had remained until after the noon hour had passed.

“Me too.” Without any idea what time of morning it is, all you know of the sun is high and the crisp autumn breeze coming through the windows is perfect, all of it giving him an almost ethereal presence as he leans over you in that enormous bed of his.

Without a mask you can see his golden skin more clearly, maybe a few more laugh lines than you expected but he wears them very handsomely. His extra years give him experience and speak to his love of life. Without his mask you can also see the prominent arch of his nose and the peaks of his cheekbones, all of which you instinctively wish you could trace in kisses but you don’t know if that’s allowed this morning.

“Are you too sore for another round?” He asks, arching a brow playfully. You haven’t looked surprised to find out who he is, so perhaps you had figured it out during the night. He had brought you back to his personal bedroom, but the lights had stayed off.

“Not at all.” His stamina was commendable last night so you’re not surprised to find him eager for another encounter this morning. Something tickles at the back of your mind, like he looks too familiar but you brush it off. Maybe you’ve been in the same restaurant or movie theater before? Who knows.

He hums and lowers his mouth to your neck, pressing his lips and nipping your skin playfully. “You tasted so delicious last night, I am craving another taste.”

“Miraculously, I do not have work today.” Your hands find the strong, defined muscles of his back easily, holding him to you with enthusiasm. “So I can indulge as much as you like.”

“Good.” He smirks and hovers over you again. “Then I will take my time.”

** He keeps his promises. At least when it comes to intimacy. When it comes to how many times he can make you scream for him and coaxing you into yet another tantric position you’ve never heard of but unlocks something primal and needy in you. He keeps his promises and you keep yours, leaving each other exhausted and panting as you collapse in each other’s arms all over again.

There is no wine nearby, so he reluctantly pulls away from you, climbing out of the bed and walking over to the mini fridge that is underneath the bar in the corner. Pulling out two bottles of water he turns back towards you. “Do you want to join the brunch crowd in a little bit?”

"Eating something is probably a good idea," you admit, accepting the water from him gratefully. "We've had a hell of a workout over the last...twelve hours? I have no idea what time it is."

Oberyn chuckles and twists the cap off his own drink. “It’s nearly noon.” He admits, having glanced at his phone briefly.

"Is it?" Neither embarrassed or upset about spending so much time closed up in this bedroom with him, you finally take time to look around the room in the clear light of midday. "This is...a hell of a room," you commend, taking in all the details of the space. The sumptuous fabrics and detail in the carved woods. The elaborate stained glass window tiles scattering various colors across the floor that had not been anywhere as brilliant in the moonlight. "If this is a guest room I can't even imagine what the master bedroom looks like."

He pauses when you say that, pulling his bottle down from his lips as you look around. You aren’t looking at him and he is highly amused. You’ve obviously not recognized him, slightly stinging his ego, but it makes the previous evening and this morning even more refreshing. “I am sure it would splendid.” He agrees. “If it were a guest room.”

"If it—" Opening your mouth once or twice or three times in confusion, you take another drink of water and sit up in his bed. "You're family?" The possibility had never even crossed your mind, although now you feel a little stupid for not realizing.

“Martell is my last name.” He admits with a nonchalant shrug, as if it is inconsequential to the subject at hand.

"I had no idea." Feeling all the more embarrassed, you practically sink back against the headboard. "I mean....I don't know if it's one of those local pride things like...like I ought to know. But in my defense, I only moved to this city last year."

He watches your face fall and frowns, moving towards the bed to sit down. “No, no, my sweet little dove, you are not going to be upset.” He commands, as if he could change your emotions just by wishing it. “I enjoy the discovery that you don’t know who I am.” He assures you, reaching out and touching your knee. “It means you wanted to sleep with me for a reason other than my name.”

"I told you..." Reaching for him is as easy as breathing, even if you are a little more intimidated to do it now. "I was drawn to you."

“And I was drawn to you.” He smirks, sending you a playful wink.

"Then I suppose it...doesn't matter?" It would make you pretty embarrassed to invite him over to your studio apartment, but you don't anticipate this going past today anyway.

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head curiously.

"Nothing. Never mind." Slipping from the sheets, your only option is too hunt the floor for your dress and slip back into the same clothes you were wearing last night. "I should text my friend. Let her know I won't be home until after brunch." And see if Lizzy had texted you about staying out, too. She usually has more luck anyway.

He frowns at your back as you hunt up your clothes. “Let me get you something else to wear.” He offers, unashamed at his own nudity, but he senses that you might want to wear something.

If all the men in this family are like the famous Oberyn Martell, there is probably a storage closet somewhere with spare clothes for conquests to wear the morning after. Not that you care how many other people a partner has slept with – that's none of your business and doesn't really matter. You were safe last night and this morning, so a number is just a number. "I don't want to be a nuisance," you say instead, because it's the truth.

“It is no nuisance.” He insists, standing up and walking towards the door that his closet is behind. “I have some beautiful things from you to choose from.” He motions you over.

"I'll get them back to you," you promise him, before you even get over to the closet. Assuming they don't belong to some other woman, they still belong to him. And that's basic respect.

“Consider it a gift.” He waves away your concern and finds it sweet that you would want to return something like that to him. “My eldest has a flare for designing clothes.” He admits as he turns on the light to the closet. “These are some of her mock ups, not released to the public.”

"Your daughter made these?" The closet is bursting with colorful, inventive fashions that make your eye jump around from piece to piece with growing awe.

“Yes.” He smiles proudly as he looks around the smaller room. It is lined with designs that she has worked on, and even if she had not liked them, he loved them because she made them. “Her line has taken off, there is a show coming up next month.”

"And you're willing to just...give me her designs?" You turn to him with wide eyes.

He smiles and reaches out to pinch your chin gently. “You are exquisite. You will wear it well and everyone will ask you where you got it.” He predicts.

"Then you have to tell me what her fashion line is called, so I can tell everyone who asks." He lets you select a combination of skirt, blouse, and sweater that are comfortable and extremely attractive and you know you'll wear as much as humanly possible.

“Dornish Sun by Obara Sand.” Oberyn murmurs, watching you run your fingers through the silks that she had stitched.

"Is it cliche if I say that you don't look old enough to have a grown daughter?" There is no reason to be shy about dressing in front of him since he was the one who undressed you last night.

“I started very young.” He chuckles.

"It seems so." The silk handkerchief skirt settles on your waist easily and the camisole is soft on your skin, making you feel utterly luxuriated with just simple clothing. "Well, I...thank you. And thank you to your daughter as well. She's extremely gifted."

“Of course.” He smiles. “Yellow is your color.” He compliments. “You should wear it often.”

"I will." That is a promise you can make him easily. The warmth has returned to everything you're feeling, pushing awkwardness out the window, and you're pull on the soft cardigan that compliments the clothing when you hear your phone go off somewhere in the vast bedroom. "That's probably Lizzy," you tell him, moving back toward his room. "Did you...you mentioned brunch?"

“I am sure that she will be there if she stayed.” He knows she will, Ellaria will have her there. “You should assure her you are safe.”

Your purse, phone inside, had somehow ended up falling off of a side table last night and is sitting on the beautifully waxed wooden floor when you go to retrieve it. If you look a bit like a bumblebee with your yellow and black and floral outfit today, at least the black heels and black clutch you brought last night will complement it.

There are no less than a half dozen messages on your phone, but the one from this morning is, indeed, from Lizzy.

From Lizzy: You disappeared so early last night! Who did you end up going home with??

You grin typing out your reply, and try not to sound too smug in your reply.

To Lizzy: I'm still in the mansion, actually. Got invited to brunch and won't even have to do a walk of shame. Meet up afterward?

From Lizzy: The brunch!!!! I’m going to be there too. I will see you there!

While you are answering your phone, Oberyn dresses in a pair of deceptively casual linen pants and a burnt orange shirt, shoving his feet into a pair of stylish loafers and choosing the watch Ellaria had gifted him on his last birthday.

"She says she'll be at brunch, too." Looking up from your phone, a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth when you see how effortlessly handsome and stylish he looks in his beautifully tailored clothing.

“I assumed she would.” He smirks. “Ellaria loves to pamper her lovers after a night in her bed.”

"Ellaria...?" Letting the wheels of your mind spin at will, it takes only seconds to connect the final dots and your eyes widen all over again. "You're Oberyn Martell?"

He tilts his head in acknowledgement and smirks. “I am.” He admits, walking over and picking up his water bottle again. “But I’m more interested in learning your real name.”

You practically stammer it out, but you do tell him. It had been wrong to assume that it could not be him, apparently, despite his legendary attachment to his partner Ellaria Sand.

“Beautiful.” He smiles, thinking that your name fits you. “Now, are you a woman who brushes her teeth before brunch or after?” He asks curiously.

"After." You laugh, although the question is practical. "I can't have anything messing with the flavor of my coffee."

He chuckles and agrees. “Especially when you are following it up with a mimosa.” He jokes.

“Exactly.” You agree, accepting his arm when he offers it. “The only thing worse that toothpaste and coffee is toothpaste and orange juice.”

A horrid combination.” He curls his lip in disgust. “Come, the brunch will be starting soon.”

By the light of day, the mansion is both enormous and even more splendid than it seemed last night. Details were lost in the lights of the party that you can see very clearly now as he walks you through the halls, though you do your best not to gape. Down immense hallways and the grandest set of stairs you have ever seen before – Surely these aren't the stairs he took you up last night? You would remember. – he escorts you to an enormous dining room with ceilings higher than most churches you've been in.

The staff, the regular staff, is all dressed respectably in black trousers, a sun yellow shirt and a black vest over that. The Martell family symbol of a spear and a bursting sun is emblazoned on the left breast of the vest, with a discreet name tag on the right.

There are stations for hot food and sideboards full of cold choices all laid out everywhere, and plenty of party guests milling about in last night's costumes or this morning's borrowed clothes. Soft music plays from somewhere overhead and a few staff members move between tables pouring tea, delivering mimosas, and occasionally delivering a different drink altogether. One table in the corner is a little grander than the rest, but it pulls your eye for an entirely different reason. Sitting, sipping a Bloody Mary in contentment, is Lizzy.

“Ahhhh, there they are.” Oberyn hums, his smile widening when he sees the beautiful face of his paramour and guides you over to the table. “You look well rested this morning, my love.”

"An illusion, I assure you." Ellaria smirks, rising from her place at the table with a cup of well-doctored coffee in front of her. "Since my dear new friend ensured I got very little sleep at all last night." She moves to Oberyn's side with ease to kiss him. "I trust you did the same for her friend?"

He pulls her in for a kiss, just as passionate as the one he had given you before entering the dining room where brunch was being served. Smiling when she moans slightly and pulls away. “Of course I did.”

“Good.” She commends, the easy praise pouring from her lips. “I knew you would not let any leave your bed unsatisfied.”

“Of course not.” He purrs. “She looks ravishing, as does your playmate for the evening. Have you decided to invite her back?”

“Thursday.” Ellaria’s smile is pure satisfaction on her own part. “A pity, though. She has no interest in cock. Though I don’t suppose she would mind you watching if you like.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I will leave you two to your games. I can amuse myself, as you well know.”

“With your new playmate?” His paramour asks slyly, glancing over at where you and Lizzy are chatting excitedly at the table.

“I find myself enchanted by her:” Oberyn admits, never shy about sharing his feelings with Ellaria. Despite their openness, they have also been together for nearly fifteen years.

“Then I am very glad she stayed.” Though Oberyn enjoys his encounters, it is rare for him to be enchanted by just anyone. It is a high commendation from a man who can have anyone he chooses.

“I am too.” He watches you and your friend with Ellaria. “I am thinking of asking her for an arrangement.” He poses.

“Oh?” She is surprised at that but not unhappy. When Oberyn finds someone worthy of an arrangement it is always something that brings him joy, and Ellaria is never opposed to Oberyn’s joy.

“What do you think?” He turns to look at his lover, seeing that she is surprised, but not necessarily opposed to the idea.

“I think she is lovely and you are enchanted.” Snuggled into his side, Ellaria presses a kiss to Oberyn’s jaw and smiles. “And she looks very fine in Obara’s clothes.”

“She was in complete awe of the closet.” He muses. “She is not seeking social status, that is for certain.”

“No?” That alone is enough to pique Ellaria’s interest. After all, his status is high enough to elevate anyone simply by proximity. “How do you know?”

“She did not know who I was” Oberyn admits with an amused chuckle. “And it was no act. She was embarrassed by the fact she did not recognize me.”

“Well, well.” Ellaria chuckles, tutting in amusement. “That does make things more interesting. Her friend did recognize me, but not everyone is as mysterious as your new lover.”

He hums and pulls her close to steal another kiss. “Perhaps you will take her out to lunch?” He asks. “Tomorrow?”

“If you wish it.” Ellaria hums, glances back at you and Lizzy, and ends up smiling. “Do you wish me to sweeten her to the idea of your arrangement, or will you propose it today?”

“Sweeten her up a bit.” He winks at you when you glance over. “Beyond that, I want to know your opinion before I offer her more.”

“I will give you an honest review,” she promises, kissing him once more before straying off toward the buffet.

Oberyn watches her walk away for a moment before he turns back towards the table and smirks. Walking slowly towards you as you giggle with your friend.

“Lizzy was just saying the same thing I did when we came downstairs,” you tell him, though the honest truth is that she said it much earlier in the conversation and just now you had been gossiping about why and how you’re both so tired. “The house is even more beautiful in the sunlight.”

“I am glad you are enjoying yourself here.” Oberyn smirks and nods towards Lizzy. “I am sure that Ellaria would love to give you a private tour, if she hasn’t already.” He chuckles. “She loves to fuck in the library. Hates to read, but loves to fuck there.”

“Yes, I…um…” Lizzy clears her throat and offers him a tight, slightly nervous smile. “I have been in the library. Haven’t really seen or paid attention to much of it, but I’ve been in it.”

He hums in approval and nods. “She did say that you both enjoyed yourselves immensely.” He pulls out a chair beside you and sits down. “Have you decided if you want anything from the buffet, or something else?” He asks both of you.

“There are more than enough choices on the buffet,” you assure him. “And it all looks wonderful.”

“We were just waiting until you got here.” Lizzy admits easily. “Ellaria said brunch would last for hours so we didn’t need to hurry.”

“It does.” He agrees. “But I do think we should order our first round of drinks, don’t you?”

“She’ll say anything is fine, but she prefers tea,” Lizzy supplies, nudging your arm at the table and aiming a mischievous grin in your direction while you look mortified that she essentially just made a demand on your behalf.

“Black, green, oolong, white or pu-erh?” Oberyn asks, tilting his head in question. “Don’t tell me you are someone who only drinks hibiscus tea and thinks that’s the best?” He playfully makes a face of horror. “You will insult me.”

“No, no, really it’s—”

Lizzy huffs and pokes you. “Earl Grey with lemon and sugar,” she tells him, seemingly pleased that someone else is willing to make a fuss over you besides her.

“Earl Grey it is.” Oberyn nods. “Do you like the plain earl grey or the cream?”

“Plain, please,” you murmur, as though you’re glad that the least intrusive answer is the honest one. The scowl you shoot Lizzy is an attempt at withering, but you just don’t have that kind of emotion in you today. It’s as if last night swept away all the negativity you had — and while the anxiety remains this is still the best you’ve felt in ages.

Oberyn motions one of the staff over. “A pot of Earl Grey tea with lemon and sugar.” He orders for you. “A Bloody Mary with extra horseradish for Ellaria.” He turns towards Lizzy. “And you, darling?”

“I think I’ll switch to water after this,” Lizzy concedes, tapping the rim of the Bloody Mary she’s nearly finished. They’re quite strong and she was only after some hair of the dog. She doesn’t need to be drunk all over again.

He pouts slightly but turns back towards the man. “A bottle of sparkling water for her and I will have a peach nectar mimosa.” He decides, smirking slightly. “I still have a yearning for sweet peaches this morning.”

You clear your throat, lips pursed together despite the very pleased smile tugging at both corners of your lips, and distinctly avoid your best friend’s eyes for the moment. He had compared your cunt to a peach in every conceivable way last night, espousing its virtues endlessly, and the simple reminder has transported you right back to the image of his head between your thighs.

Oberyn chuckles softly and sends you a knowing smirk. “I think you enjoyed it too, Dove.” He murmurs, reaching under the table to stroke your thigh. “So when did you decide to crash the party?” He asks, looking at both of you with a grin.

“About a week ago,” Lizzy answers honestly, ignoring how much further you sink down into your seat. “When I found those little masquerade masks in a costume shop. I promised I’d find a party to take her to if she rented costumes with me.”

“And technically you did,” you admit, rolling your eyes at your best friend to hide the fact that you’re somewhat mortified to have been found out so easily, and end up in the host and hostess’s beds.

“It is a good thing.” He admits, shrugging nonchalantly. “There are always a few that come that are not on the guest list, it’s a compliment. It means the parties are worth attending.” He smirks. “Although next year you will have invitations.”

Lizzie’s eyebrows raise at that and she glances at you meaningfully, as though she hadn’t had as significant a night as you did.

“We will?” You ask, swallowing the surprise in your voice.

“Of course.” He lifts a brow in amusement, as if he could not believe you would think anything else. “If you come, that is up to you.”

“Of course we’ll come.” The idea that you wouldn’t is shocking and the promise comes out of your mouth extremely quickly, even if you don’t mean it to. It’s not as if you expect to sleep with him again in a year — but a girl can hope. It’s not as if you expect your own circumstances will change much by then.

“So tell me how you came to be in our fair city?” He wants to know more about you, and your friend.

“It’s…complicated,” you admit, although the tale is old as time. “But basically…Lizzy and I were roommates in college and we’ve been friends ever since. So last year when I needed a new start, I came and joined her here.”

“Heart break or financials?” Oberyn asks sagely. There are only two reasons most people need to make a fresh start and he wonders which category you fall into.

“I—” Glancing at Lizzy like a plea for help, your best friend only shrugs and picks up her Bloody Mary as if to say ‘you opened the door, now answer the question.’

“Both,” you admit sheepishly. “I would working for my fiancé’s family business. So when the engagement ended, so did the job.”

“I see.” He lifts a brow and makes a note to dig into your past, wanting to see what kind of man you were engaged to. “Then I hate to be crass, but I owe your foolish ex partner a word of thanks for giving you the freedom to land in my bed.”

“He was a fuckin’ moron.” Lizzy supplies helpfully, and grins when you huff at her. “What? He was! I know you were together forever but that doesn’t make him less of an idiot.”

“Your beautiful friend has a point.” Oberyn chuckles and greets the server when he comes back with your drinks. “The tea pot in front of this beautiful lady.” He reminds him and watches as the entire service set is transferred from the rolling cart. It is a silver and gold bone China set that was his late mother’s favorite.

“Thank you,” is repeated several times both to the server and to Oberyn, and the brewed tea is beautifully doctored just how you like it. It’s a beautiful luxury, you will admit readily, and sip the scalding tea with a blissful smile. “I’m glad it’s over, but the ending was not fun,” you tell him finally. “And…if it’s what needed to happen for us to come here last night? That is a wonderful night to make up for all the pain.”

“Perhaps.” He smirks and reaches over to steal a sugar cube from the little pot like he would as a child. His own drink is perfect and he hums in approval as everyone in the room settles into a quiet chatter.

When Ellaria returns to the table she brings two plates with her and sets one down in front of Oberyn. He takes forever to make even the smallest choices when it comes to having so many options, and while she would never interrupt his fun in the bedroom, it's been long enough that she surely knows his favorite foods. "You should go up," she tells you and Lizzy sweetly. "There is plenty to pick from."

Oberyn is vastly amused and thankful, winking at his paramour before he looks over at you. “Dove, you should go fix yourself a plate.”

Ellaria and Lizzy both look duly impressed that there is already a pet name in place, but you downplay it. Just thanking him again for the tea and getting up from the table to go get your food is enough from now. He's being very sweet to you this morning and it's far more than you expected, so you're going to savor it while it lasts.

“She must have a magical cunt.” Ellaria hums as she watches you and Lizzy scamper off to the buffet tables. “Does she –”

Oberyn shakes his head. “Honestly? I did not ask, although I am certain if she ever had any desire to, you would persuade her.” He compliments, leaning over and picking up her hand to kiss the back of it.

"I'll save the question for after tomorrow's sweetening." Ellaria decides. You seem like you could be overwhelmed by too much attention, and that would not go well for Oberyn's desires.

“Apparently she is recently off heart break and financial strife.” Oberyn discloses. “Perhaps you can question how deep that monetary problem runs?” He won’t take advantage of you by leveraging money, but he will offer you a very lucrative opportunity.

"Do you know what she does?" That is always an interesting conversation, and can be a gateway to many things. "Beside fuck like a goddess, apparently?" Ellaria grins.

“There wasn’t much small talk happening.” Oberyn admits shamelessly, his own grin accompanied by waggling eyebrows. “It is a pity your lover does not like cock, or we could see how we all enjoy each other.”

"There is no such thing as a perfect world is there?" Ellaria sighs dramatically, entirely aware that in every reasonable way, their life is perfect. It is simply a matter of who they choose to share that perfection with. That is the question at hand.

******

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Ellaria has to shout to be heard over the wind racing between you, the top down on her sporty little convertible as she zips you away from the mansion and towards what she promises to be the best shopping in the city.

The invitation had come as a surprise to you, but when Ellaria Sand had suggested you come back over to the mansion today to have lunch, you had tentatively accepted. She was very nice, after all, and interesting -- and the longtime lover of the man that you were struggling to stop thinking about. It made the sound of lunch so civil, and you told yourself that you would not try to peak for Oberyn around the mansion where they both lived.

But as soon as you had arrived she had scooped you up in her car and said that lunch al fresco and shopping sounded divine to her, and you hadn't had the heart to tell her that there was no way in hell that you would be able to shop with her. You had just been quietly glad that you wore your nicest dress today and gotten into the car like she suggested.

"Sunny and beautiful," you agree, wondering where you could possibly be heading.

“I find on days like this, I want to be outside.” She continues on. “Don’t you? What do you do for work?” The question is blunt and automatic, immediately starting in on Oberyn’s request to sweeten you up.

“Oh, um…nothing special. Just…the usual sort of thing.” It’s embarrassing to admit to someone as effortlessly elegant and carefree as Ellaria that you work yourself numb at a coffeeshop every morning and a pizza place every night. Taking shifts off to crash the masquerade and — you thought — sleep off the hangover had been something you worked hard to manage. The afternoons are normally your only free time, and today you’re spending that time with her.

“What is the usual sort of thing?” Her hair is wrapped in a stylish Hermès scarf and her Armani sunglasses are the latest collection. She had dressed specifically to show you what can be yours.

“I work in kitchens,” you answer diplomatically, even though you hate it. Being good at it doesn’t mean it’s what you want to do with your life. You have a hard-earned degree that is sitting and calcifying while you try and fail to find work in your preferred field. When you see her tilt her head out of the corner of your eye, you shrug your shoulders. “I’m a barista and I work at a pizza place,” you clarify finally, deciding to be transparent.

“No wonder you have such lovely taste in tea!” She reaches over and touches your knee gently before taking a firm hold on the wheel. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Not really.” You can admit that even if it doesn’t feel utterly fantastic to do so. “But I’m grateful to have the work.”

“What would you rather do?” She asks. “Dream job or your goal in life?” She smiles over at you. “Mine was to raise my children myself, so don’t discount a homemaker if that’s your dream.”

“I’d like a family at some point.” That’s definitely somewhere in the dreamscape of your fantasy future, though you really don’t know about any of it happening any more. “To be honest?” Glancing over as she drives, you aren’t too surprised to see her pull into an area of underground parking beneath a large and expensive looking shopping mall. You’ve actually been to this one before — you brought a book to the cafe here once to buy an overpriced pot of tea and read in the conservatory-like atmosphere. “I really don’t know. I suppose…I like books quite a lot. But being a librarian takes quite a lot of schooling.”

“It does?” She’s completely unaware of that. “I couldn’t imagine why. I have never been good at reading.” She admits with a laugh. “It bores me. Although Oberyn adores reading. His library is magnificent. At least for fucking in.” She throws you a wink as she parks and shuts off the engine.

“I heard.” The grin you shoot her is honest and amused. Lizzy is beside herself with attraction but trying to be practical about it. “We’re eating here?” You ask, genuinely interested in what sort of bistros or lovely restaurants this building might have.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask,” she huffs, annoyed at herself. “Do you like Indian and sushi?” She cocks her head to the side. “There is this wonderful fusion restaurant on the rooftop. They also make wonderful cocktails.”

“Indian and sushi fusion?” Such an idea had never occurred to you in your entire life, but since they’re two of your favorite foods? Why not. “Sounds incredible. Let’s do it.”

“Oh you will love it.” She promises. “They make these Tikka masala salmon rolls that are to die for.” She rolls her eyes and hooks her arm through yours. “Eat and then shop or shop and then eat?”

"Why don't we eat and then shop?" You suggest, knowing that at some point you will have to bow out and take the city bus back home for work tonight. It would be nice to share a meal beforehand.

“That sounds completely fair.” She knows where you are going and immediately guides you towards the elevators to take you up from the garage level. “We will get to know each other and perhaps get drunk while we do it.”

"Maybe." It seems rude to point out that you're going to work after this so that won't be a possibility, so you simply shrug one shoulder and allow the question to hang in the air. As if you didn't envy the freedom she has so much more than just a little.

She hums, far more observant than she would appear and once the doors open to let you inside the car, she drags you in and presses the button for the rooftop. “Oh damn. You didn’t bring sunglasses.” She huffs and quickly presses the button for the third level. “Quick stop before lunch.”

"I don't need sunglasses, Ellaria. Really, I promise." She's laughing, though, and so radiant that you bite your lip and swallow the protest, starting to do the math in your head for if you can even afford to look at sunglasses in one of these fancy stores.

Once the elevator stops on the desired floors she whisks you away and down the marbled floors towards the stores. “Armani or Louis Vuitton?” She asks, turning and staring at your face for a second in contemplation.

"I—" You feel like melting into the floor, but she is whisking you down the hallway and apparently not stopping for anything so you swallow what would otherwise be a whimper of worry and decide your credit card is going to have to come out today. "Armani," you decide, knowing the prices there will be considerably lower than anything Louis Vuitton would ever carry.

“Fantastic!” Her eyes light up and she steers you towards the store. “We will find the perfect pair.” She hums and smirks. “The sunglasses and a bikini will be the perfect outfit for an evening around the water gardens.”

"Ellaria." That makes you pause, and you put one hand on her arm gently. "I do have to work tonight."

“No.” She frowns, a small pout on her face and she shakes her head. “That’s not fun. You deserve more than just one evening off to recover from the masquerade.”

“Well…no. It isn’t fun.” That is certainly not the reaction you expected from her, although you’re not entirely sure what reaction you did expect. “But…that’s why they call it work, right?”

She huffs and lifts a brow. “How much do you make an hour?” She demands, even if she knows it’s rude.

You huff, feeling deeply put on the spot, and try to remember that your best friend is half in love with this woman so maybe you should just grit your teeth on manners. “Not much,” you tell her, and when she raises an eyebrow you look down at the floor. “Both of my jobs pay minimum wage. That’s why I need two.” At least the tips are good, you remind yourself. At least the tips are good.

“I will give you one thousand dollars to be my assistant for the afternoon.” She decides, immediately opening her purse and pulling out her wallet. “Will that cover the lost wages?”

“Ellaria…” To a passerby, or even to yourself just days ago, it might seem callous. Flippant. But one of the things you do know for certain about Ellaria Sand is that she is not a careless person. The small and large acts of kindness and caretaking you had seen from her in the small time you had known her reinforce that knowledge. She isn’t careless, she’s just a deeply blunt person.

“Is that not enough?” She glances up at you with a look of concern on her face. She could have sworn it would cover it, but perhaps you have extremely good tips.

“It’s like three weeks’ pay, that isn’t the point.” The Milk of Human Kindness, that was the phrase. Ellaria is tough. Strong. But made with the milk of human kindness. “I need to keep my job. I can’t just call out whenever I feel like it.”

“Hand me your phone.” Ellaria demands, holding her hand out.

“Why?” But even as you ask it, that part of your mind that is conditioned to please others by doing what your told has you reaching for your cell phone in your pocket.

You’ve opened it for her, so Ellaria taps your contacts and finds that you are a very organized kind of girl. Another reason why Oberyn must adore you and why the idea that has come to mind is such a good one. She clicks on a number and holds the phone up to hear ear, motioning for you give her one seconds.

“I’d like to speak to the manager please.” She murmurs politely when the call connects. As she’s waiting, she smiles at you reassuringly.

“Thank you for calling Main Street Pizza, this is Greg.” The tired, heavily accented voice of a sixty-year-old lifelong smoker who has audibly given up on life comes over the line. “You wanted to talk to the manager?”

“Yes, this Ellaria Sand.” She introduces herself as she watches you shift in front of her. “I have one of your employees standing in front of me right now.” She says your name and waits for him to acknowledge that fact.

“Yeah?” The man drawls, snapping on his gum. “Listen lady, I’m sorry if she said something to piss you off but unless she’s on the clock? She’s not my problem.”

She snorts at his answer, shaking her head and hating that you have ever worked for such a dick. “Oh no darling, you are very much mistaken.” She chuckles. “I’m calling to inform you that she will not be in tonight.” She pauses for a moment. “Or ever again. Consider this her notice.”

“Ellaria!” Your hiccuped shriek of fear and dismay covers whatever your boss blusters on the other end of the call, but she only smiles at you and fends you off as you try to take your phone back.

“How do you sleep at night?” She continues on. “Paying your employee wages that make them have two, sometimes three jobs to just be able to survive.” She hisses. “You should be ashamed of yourself, even though I know you won’t be. But you will no longer be taking advantage of her!” With that, she pulls the phone away from her ear and ends the call.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?!” As soon as she hands you back your phone you’re fumbling, hands shaking as you blindly try to punch the necessary buttons to call the pizza place back and beg your awful boss to take you back. “I need to survive, Ellaria!”

“Don’t you dare call that place back.” She chides softly, reaching out and taking your hands in hers. “You will not be destitute.” She swears.

“How?” Fear and desperation rises so high in your throat you feel sick. “Money doesn’t fall out of trees, I know you know how hard it is to make it on your own. And this isn’t just about me! Lizzy and I live together. If I can’t pay my half of the rent, we both end up evicted.”

She feels bad, truly, when she sees how desperate you are. “Shhhhhush.” She coos softly, letting go of your hands and cradling your jaw in both her hands. “I have already thought of the perfect replacement for your terrible jobs.” She promises. “And if you do not wish to take it, I will personally pay your bills until you find something you want.”

“My finances are not your responsibility.” Accountability has been drilled into your head for your entire life, and now it comes screaming to the surface even in the face of her reassurance. “I’m not qualified for anything. My job experience is all retail and food service. Getting a job is impossible even for the well-educated. I appreciate your standing up for my worth but the reality is that no employer is going to pay that well.”

She sighs softly. “Oberyn has been toying with the idea of having a curator for his collections.” She murmurs softly. “He has so many duplicate books, so many different libraries. He wants to condense them. He’s mentioned it many times. He will give you the job.” Her lover has no problem helping others with their dreams and goals. He is very generous and it seems as if she is battering down the gates of your life rather than sweetening you to the prospect of what he can offer you. “I have made a mess of all this.” She huffs. “I was supposed to show you what could be yours rather than bully you into changing your life.”

“I’m not…entirely sure that I understand?” In fact you feel like you’re reeling, and that is not at all a helpful thing when you’re trying to process everything Ellaria is telling you. “Oberyn…wants to hire me? To be his personal curator?” You pinch your eyes shut and open them again but it doesn’t help to clear your mind. “He didn’t even know that…that I love libraries or that I studied history?”

“No.” She shakes her head and sighs, looking around before she pulls you closer. “Let’s buy your sunglasses and I promise I will explain while we have a very stiff drink, okay love?”

“Well…” you’re shrug your shoulders helplessly. “I don’t have to work anymore, so I guess a drink is okay.”

“Don’t be too mad at me, I promise you will be perfect. Hopefully even wonderful.” She promises, although she feels so guilty right now.

“I’m not mad.” The realization washes over you and you swallow, holding back a thick coating of emotion. “I’m…scared. And I know we barely know each other so this whole outing has been oversharing anyway.”

“We might not know each other well, but we will.” Of that, she is absolutely certain. “Come, we will pick out a pair of sunglasses and then we will work everything out.” She takes your hand again and starts to steer you towards the Armani store.

It seems pointless to ask how she is so certain. Ellaria appears to be certainly of everything. Instead you just allow yourself to be tugged along, worried and scared and anxious that whatever this remarkable, chaotic woman has to say to you will shake your fragile life even further.

In the store, Ellaria has you try on a dozen pair of sunglasses, not letting you look at the tags before she nods. “Those are the ones.” She decides. “How do you like them?”

They’re classic Armani tortoise shell glasses that complement the shape of your face no matter who you are, and honestly you’d be silly not to love them. “They’re beautiful,” you admit, a little too softly. “But Ellaria…” But you just quit my job for me.

“Don’t.” She holds up a finger and then gently pulls them off your face. “My treat.” She insists before she whirls around and hands them to the associate. “Please get the box for these. She will be wearing them out, of course.”

The associate nods and walks away to comply, not seeing the ways your brows furrow. The feeling in your chest is an odd mixture of shame, guilt, and an unexpected appreciation for the woman currently offering you a slice of something beautiful and lasting for no other reason than kindness. Ellaria — and Oberyn, for that matter — owe you nothing. But that does not stop them from giving, apparently.

“Thank you,” you offer finally, unsure what else to say.

“You have nothing to thank me for.” She huffs. “I have made your anxiety go through the roof.”

“My anxiety is always through the roof.” You laugh it off because she’s right. “That doesn’t make you less nice.”

She snorts and shakes her head, "you are too precious." She murmurs and pulls out her credit card to pay for the glasses.

“So why exactly are sunglasses so mandatory for this restaurant?” You ask, trying not to fidget in place at the cash stand. “Just because it’s on the roof?”

"Absolutely." She smiles and turns towards you as the clerk runs the card.

“That seems a little dramatic.” Still, you smile affectionately. “But then? So is Oberyn. So I shouldn’t be surprised you are, too.”

"I have spent so much time with my lover that I am sure that our characteristics have merged." She laughs. "But I was honestly thinking about how good you will look wearing these and a small bikini we are going to buy you after lunch."

“You mentioned that before.” Walking out of the store together, you laugh again and shake your head a little. “Determined to have me out by that pool at some point? Or is that what Oberyn wanted you to butter me up for?”

She hums in amusement. "No, I don't think that you would believe me if I told you right now." She admits softly.

“One very strong cocktail, right?” Trying to be encouraging, you wave your hand toward the escalator inside the mall and smile. “Let’s go.”

Ellaria takes the bag that has the luxurious box and carrying case for the glasses. "Very strong." She laughs as she swings the bag and loops her arm through yours.

Three floors up, the roof of the luxury shopping center has a smattering of cafes and restaurants, but Ellaria leads you toward one accented with bold patterned tablecloths and oversized gold-upholstered armchairs. Soft music plays inside, and it becomes apparent as soon as the hostess starts leading you inside that the music being piped up to the front of the restaurant to greet diners is actually coming from the live performer out in the dining area.

The skylight is nothing but glass above you, hence why Ellaria had bought you the sunglasses. The hostess brings you over to a beautiful table that is one to very obviously meant to be seen at. “Perfect.” She smiles as the two of you are seated.

"I'll give you ladies some time with the drink menu," the hostess says, before striding away to return to her stand.

It's a stunning place, really. The bright afternoon sun is high overhead and the live music is entrancing. A few people murmur as they recognize Ellaria but she seems entirely unbothered by it. She has been a part of the local gossip in this city so long that it hardly seems to matter to her in the least. Which, you have to admit, is admirable as much as it is enviable.

“So, shall we have a chai martini?” She asks as she looks over the menu. “I know they are excellent.”

"Sounds great," you agree, happy to follow her lead. The fact that it does actually sound good helps immensely.

“You will not regret it.” The second the menu is set down, the waiter is at Ellaria’s elbow. “Two chai martini’s, please and in five minutes have another two brought to the table.” She requests with a smile.

Making a face as if to tell her it’s an admirable pace, you end up laughing as the two of you look over entrees together. You decide on sharing a few sushi rolls of varying degrees of fusion, and by the time the waiter returns Ellaria thanks him and puts in your lunch order easily.

“So.” She holds her martini glass up to yours and clinks it with a small tap. “To new and blossoming friendships.”

“I will absolutely drink to that.” If nothing else, you had agreed to this lunch for Lizzy, but it seems like things are already on their way to becoming far more entangled and interesting than simply a lunch with your best friend’s lover.

Ellaria takes a very long sip of her martini and sighs happily when she is pulling away from the glass. “Now….” She sets the glass down and settles back into her chair. She feels a little more calm now. “We can talk about things.”

“Yes, please.” The drink is delicious, but you can’t deny the burning curiosity. What could she possibly be wanting to talk to you about that required a drink and such an elaborate outing? If Oberyn didn’t want to see you anymore he could simply have said so and that would have been that. You would have been bitterly disappointed, of course, but you’re a big girl. Hearts mend.

“Oberyn wanted me to bring you out today.” She admits shamelessly. “To treat you, sweeten you up for him.” Her hands spread and she shrugs slightly. “But I have been a little too aggressive.”

“That’s the part I don’t understand,” you admit, unintentionally leaning forward in your seat at even the mention of his name. When it comes to Oberyn, you understand that you are simply one in a long line. But he is so incredibly unique that you can’t find it in yourself to mind one bit. “Sweeten me up for what?”

“He wants you.” She tells you bluntly. “Want you to have a relationship with him.”

"Oh!" That was certainly not on the list of things you had counted as possibilities for this conversation -- or ever -- and you're honestly just glad that you hadn't taken a sip of your drink in that moment. "Then...I don't..." Your cheeks flare hot and you clear your throat. "I don't want to sound rude but...why not just ask me that himself?"

“He wanted my opinion on you.” She admits. “And Oberyn likes to give. He is very generous with his lovers and even more so with the ones he has more than just casual flings with. However, he has noticed that you are not like others. He wanted me to show you a glimpse of what he could offer you.”

"You mean I didn't sleep with him because he's famous and wealthy?" It must have really struck a chord with him that you didn't recognize him. That you had just liked him. Been honestly attracted to the man for who he is. "He's a good man. And alarmingly sexy. But you know that better than I do. It isn't hard to be attracted to him. Not at all."

“Oh I know.” She promises. “But your sentiment is exactly what has drawn him in. He wants to keep that for himself.” She picks up her martini glass again. “He is always accusing me of being greedy, but he is just as greedy.”

"So...he wants to...keep me?" You raise your eyebrow at that and have to concede that she was right. You absolutely did need a strong drink for this. "I know he would never give you up, and I certainly would never ask him to."

“Yes.” She nods bluntly. “Oberyn has never been one to limit his appetites, nor limit those of his lovers.” She explains. “It is why your Lizzy found her way into my bed and you tumbled into his.” She smiles.

"And he didn't know if I would be willing to be kept." The thought had never even crossed your mind before. It isn't like there are an abundance of opportunities for broken young women to actually find rich men to shower them in money that aren't either incredibly creepy or bordering on illegal. "So he asked you to make it appealing to me."

“Some find it morally or ethically repugnant.” Ellaria snorts indelicately and rolls her eyes. “Oberyn kept me from selling myself on the streets the first night he met me.” She admits. “I was one hour away from going to work at the brothel when I stopped into a bar to have a drink.”

"What's repugnant is people forcing others into desperate circumstances. Not choosing your own means of survival." Still, your mind reels. Not about any sort of moral hang up but just about the reality of the situation. "I wouldn't feel right taking money for nothing," you tell her honestly. "I don't know what the hell I'm qualified to do, but I would feel like I would have to do something for him."

“That is why his library would be perfect for you.” She hums. “I have a feeling you would be spending plenty of time there anyway.” She winks saucily at you. “But I feel as if I have force you into these circumstances.” She frowns as the words come out. “Which is why I will pay for your bills if you decide not to accept Oberyn’s offer.”

"You don't have to do that." While it's appreciated, it still wouldn't feel right. You haven't done anything to earn that sort of generosity from her. "But...can I ask you...what it's like?" Over her shoulder, you can see the waiter approaching with a tray full of small plates and you finish your thought quickly. "Your arrangement wouldn't be exactly the same as mine, I understand that. But...you're the only person I know I could ask as an example."

She smiles, waiting as the plates are brought to the table, along with the second set of martinis. “Another set of drinks in fifteen minutes.” She requests and looks back at you after thanking the waiter. “It’s….freeing.” She admits. “He will not keep you from taking another lover, he would love to play with you if you so choose. He’s intelligent and charming, bold and some would say that he is quick to temper, but he would never harm you.” She promises. “You have the freedom to do what you wish, with whomever you wish it, as long as you also fulfill his need of you.”

You can't help but smile at that. "Which...let's face it. It's Oberyn. That need is an active one."

“And it will only increase when you have children.” She laughs. “I was having to beat him off of me when I was carrying.” She’s joking, but only just.

"That..." The thought dawns on you with the force of summer sun. "That's why you asked me if I wanted a family?"

“I could not see Oberyn denying himself - or you - a child.” She admits with a small shrug. “He does have eight daughters that he adores.”

"I guess I haven't really thought about it as a possibility," you admit. "Not having a partner put a damper on that. And even my ex wasn't too hot on the idea of kids."

“You will never meet a more excited, or involved father.” She can readily testify to that. He has an individual and close relationship with each of his daughters. Any other children would most definitely be treated to the same relationship.

“Do you…I’m sorry if this is rude, but do you have any kind of relationship with the other girl’s mothers?” While you talk she nudges the food toward you a little and you both begin to eat. “I’m just trying to imagine how so large a family fits together.”

“The others…..” Ellaria sighs. “It’s complicated. But the other women wanted nothing to do with the children beyond what Oberyn could give them. So he took custody.” She explains. “He offered to let them see the girls, but none of them have.”

“I see.” That doesn’t sit well with you at all, but it isn’t your place to have an opinion on any of it. Whatever deals Oberyn made with those women it happened a long time ago and it has nothing to do with you. You just hate the idea of the daughters being used as bargaining chips in any way.

She can see that the entire thing bothers you and she reaches out. “He never would have taken them from their mothers if they loved them as the children they were, rather than a means of income.” She promises. “Although the last one before me, she was a nun.”

“I suppose I just don’t like the idea that anyone would ever think of having kids as a source of income,” you admit, trying to wipe the frown off your face. “But life is complicated. I’m sure there was more going on that I have no idea about.”

“He will tell you about each case if you wish.” She knows Oberyn has nothing to hide about his children, never would hide anything.

“I’ll ask once things are…settled.” Once you know what this next step in your life is going to look like. Because despite the uncertainty and the unexpectedness of what is being offered to you, it is an offer that you don’t really see the downside to. Sure…it would only last as long as he decides he’s happy with the rearrangement. But isn’t all employment at will, so to speak?

“He can be very open.” She smiles and picks up her chopsticks. “Shall we partake in your first experience with this particular fusion?” She asks playfully. “And you can ask me any other questions you might have.”

“Is it too forward to ask what your arrangement with Oberyn is?” She’s the only person you could ask such a thing, after all, and you’re curious. He asked her to warm you up to the idea — but the only idea you have of it all right now is vague at best.

“We are lovers.” She has no issue sharing with you. “Friends, companions. Everything you could imagine short of marriage.” She holds a piece of sushi up and examines it as she talks. “But we also have the freedom to do as we wish. If I were walk away today, Oberyn would let me go, and everything I have would still be mine, even though everyone knows he gave it to me.”

“Did you always live with him?” The first of the sushi rolls that you try is bursting with the familiar tastes of tandoori spices and the sweet tang of seasoned sushi rice. Unexpected but very delicious.

“From the very first night.” She nods. “Oberyn does not like giving up a good thing when he has it.” She smirks at you. “As you are finding out.”

"I just don't want to leave Lizzy without help," you explain, and if it wasn't abundantly clear to Ellaria that you were seriously considering the offer it should be now. "Living expenses are enormous. And she has a good job, but it's still hard."

“Ohhhh, I don’t think you would need to worry about Lizzy.” She hums, her smirk deepening.

"And what exactly does that mean?" You ask, raising one eyebrow in interest.

“It means that your friend is a very special woman.” She winks and reaches for another roll.

"I hope it means you're going to be good to her, too?" That would be so much of what Lizzy wants. So very much.

“Of course she would be very well spoiled.” She winks again. “We have decided that the apartments in the west wing that aren’t being used will be remodeled.”

“We?” The bite of sushi in your mouth is a little too big for talking around delicately and you swallow quickly. “You and Oberyn have already talked about it?”

“We have always had the agreement that if we have found someone we are willing to have an arrangement with, that we would bring them to us rather than take away potential time with the girls.” She explains.

“So…you’re going to offer Lizzy an arrangement, too?” What an utter relief that would be, if it’s true. Lizzy is besotted with Ellaria and loves kids despite not wanting to have any herself. She would be so happy to be a part of a family but have the freedom to come and go and live her own life as she pleases.

“I was hoping she would be up for it.” Ellaria admits. “I have so enjoyed the time with her and find that we are very compatible.”

"I think she will love it." And that fact is like the last of your reservations melting away. Like the thing holding you back wasn't worry for yourself, but worry for your friend who had pulled you out of the pit you were in after your breakup. Lizzy had pulled you out, dusted you off, and gotten you back on your feet and you would never ever abandon her after that kind of love.

She can see that you are relaxed knowing that your friend would be taken care of and that speaks to your character so much more than any words could. “He is right.” She muses. “You are wonderful.”

"I don't know about that," you shake your head, ill-equipped for such a shining compliment. "But I love my best friend very much."

“Of course you do.” She tuts softly, as if it is beyond reason that you would think otherwise.

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