#Oberyn Martell x reader

[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.

𝐽𝛰𝐹𝐹���𝐸𝑌 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!

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Series

day three: the morning after

ᰔ pairing: oberyn martell x reader

ᰔ summary: everyone talks about their night in oberyn's bed, but they seem to leave out what happens the morning after.

ᰔ author's note: i could write about oberyn martell every day for the rest of my life and feel fulfilled. he's one of my favorite pedro boys and i'll never get over the end of his story. ouch ouch ouch. also i don't write a lot of smut so please let me know how i can improve! i'd like to get better at it :)

ᰔ content warning: 18+ / MDNI!!! it's oberyn, all bets are off. actually he's really sweet in this one, in his own way. afab!reader. fingering. very loose GoT lore here and there.

Many had warned you of the Prince's bed and what a night with him entailed. It was no secret that Oberyn was not shy, not one to hold back when in the throws of passion. If you had heard one thing about his bedchambers, you had heard a thousand.

You stirred at the sound of the sea as it wafted through the quiet room. As you came to your senses, you felt two strong arms wrapped around you. One hand was settled beneath your breasts, the pad of his thumb pressed into the soft flesh between your sternum. The other cradled your thigh, his arm across your hips.

A soft squeak slipped from you as you stretched in Oberyn's hold. Even after your rest, your body still ached with pleasure. The few you had taken to bed before had never left you feeling how you did now. When you slunk out of their rooms, a tight knot sat in the pit of your stomach— dissatisfaction and a sense of disgust washed over you.

Here, you felt loose and limber, pliable pressed against the chest of your lover. As you shifted again, you felt Oberyn's hand squeeze you. His hold was gentle but firm as the pads of his fingers left marks in your flesh. You felt his lips press against the back of your neck and trailed along your shoulder.

"Good morning, my darling," Oberyn muttered against your bare skin. It sent a shiver down your spine, hazy memories of the night before slowly coming back to you. While it was a night you'd never forget, Dornish wine left some details muddled.

"Good morning," you murmured. You turned your head to catch his sleepy gaze. Part of you wondered if Oberyn ever looked bad— who managed to look handsome moments after waking up?

As his lips brushed against a mark he left last night, you shivered. Even after how spent he left you last night, you still felt that simmer inside you. A hunger in you that only Oberyn seemed to satiate. You thought you'd had your fill last night, but with his lips all over you...

"Oberyn," you breathed out. You lost track of what had been on your lips, some throw away comment about how nice his bed was. Instead, all you thought of was his hand on your hips and how it dipped between your thighs.

It was no secret that Oberyn was good with his hands, the way he wielded every weapon in his armory. His fingers? You believed they were crafted by the Gods above, a divine gift the Dornish prince knew how to use well. How you had been so lucky to receive their treatment, you still had yet to wrap your head around it. Not that you had time to figure out, the way they teased against your lips.

"Use your words. You had no issues doing so last night." Oberyn's low voice in your ear, his middle finger drew slow, agonizing circles against your clit. That simmer in your stomach bubbled as his other hand shifted from beneath your breast. He twisted your nipple, a smirk on his lips as you gasped under your breath. Every little sound that slipped out of you only brought him more pleasure.

"Oberyn—" You arched your back into his chest as desperation grew within you. You had your share of experience with the Dornish shores, sailed on them between fortnights, yet they were nothing compared to the divine pleasure that washed over you with every lazy circle of Oberyn's finger.

"More, my darling. Don't let yourself grow distracted." Even the way he spoke had that growing heat stretch up your spine. It battled the beating sun that began to spill into the room, the humidity thick in the air.

"Ah– Harder, please," you pleaded. Oberyn pressed a second finger down, his fingers followed your command as they moved faster. He was willing to give you whatever you wanted if it meant he heard those pathetic little sounds you couldn't hold back. The murmurs and the soft moans that he had enjoyed the night before, had hoped to hear again.

"So obedient," Oberyn praised. His other hand moved from one breast to the other, giving your pert nipple the attention it deserved.

"Need you inside me. Want to feel you," you managed to get out. It was hard to string together words, piece together cohesive thoughts as he touched you. Whatever had been left in your mind was moot as his hand abandoned your breast to fill your cunt.

As one finger filled your cunt, your own hands grabbed for his arms. Not to stop him, but to brace yourself– his back had seen what your own hands were capable of last night. His finger curled and found the point of pleasure few- if any other lover had found. How he made such quick work, you weren't sure, and you were in no position to question it as he slipped a second finger in.

"Gods!" You cried out as both hands worked in tandem. Oberyn's name slipped from your lips between begs and please for more, more. Of those who had seen the inside of his personal bedchamber, you were his favorite. The way your voice drifted through the room, how soft you were in his hands. He wondered if you had been crafted by the Gods for his own sake.

"That's it, my darling," he murmured in your ear. "Let yourself go." It was all you needed to let yourself fall over the edge, your own fingers dug into the flesh of his arms as you released all over his hands. Oberyn's hands worked you through the pleasure until you were slump against his chest again.

You felt the ache of emptiness as his hands moved away, away from your body. Your eyes were trained on Oberyn as he brought his fingers to his lips, his eyes met yours as he licked them clean. Even as you recovered from your orgasm, you felt that simmer return as it settled in the pit of your stomach.

"Sweet," Oberyn muttered to himself as his fingers slipped out of his mouth. You shifted in his hold to face him, your arms around his neck as you kissed him. The taste of you still lingered on his tongue.

Of all the things you had heard about Oberyn's bedchambers, none had prepared you for this. Had you been the only one to receive such treatment, to be pleasured by the Dornish prince with care as the sun rose? Were others blessed by the Gods by way of a man such as him?

Whether they were or not, it didn't matter to you. Not when you were the one who kept his bed warm in the moment, the one with your name on Oberyn's lips and his cock inside you.

[cosmicaura7]

THE RED VIPER'S INSATIABLE WIFE

Pairings : pedro pascal (oberyn martell) x reader

Genre : f/m, f/f, m/m, smut, voyeurism, exhibitionism, threesome, foursome, scissoring, oral (female and male receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, public sex, fingering

Synopsis : In where Oberyn’s pretty wife can be insatiable most of the time, and he’s more than happy to indulge in her desires and fantasies.

Word Count : 8.5k

Author's Note : Thank you for all the support to my Joel fic! It was probably the most interaction I've had during my time here in tumblr and thank you so much for 200 followers!🥺 As reward, here's an Oberyn fic that I've written a few years back and wanted to share it. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Oberyn Martell had always known that his wife was insatiable. It was one of the many things he adored about her. The way she craved pleasure, her own, his, and the pleasure of others, was a fire that never burned out. She has always viewed pleasure to be a gift meant to be cherished in life, sharing the same views he has always upheld. And the Dornish Prince was more than happy to indulge in the pleasure and satisfaction that his pretty little wife shares with him, even helping her explore more of her hidden desires that she’s been wanting to experience. 

And tonight?

Tonight, he had stumbled upon a sight that nearly stole the breath from his lungs. The heavy silk curtains of their chamber were slightly parted, the candlelight flickering, casting golden shadows against the walls. And there spread across their bed was his beautiful wife, tangled in the limbs of their favorite courtesan, Elena, a young woman with luscious dark curls, tanned skin and sharp seductive honey eyes. She’s been their precious lover for a while and has always kept his pretty wife company whenever he is out doing his prince duties. 

His cock twitched at the sight. You were bare, your soft, glistening body pressed tightly against hers. Your legs were spread wide and entwined with hers, your slick folds rubbing against each other in a slow deep grind. The sounds, the soft breathy moans and the wet needy friction, filled the chamber like a symphony of sin.

"Gods, my lady, you're so wet." Elena arched her back and gasped as her hands gripped your thighs. 

"Mmm, you feel so good, my darling" You hummed with a smirk decorating your features, your fingers gripping the sheets as you rocked your hips against hers faster. 

Oberyn groaned lowly and leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed over his broad chest. "Am I interrupting, my loves?" His voice was husky laced with amusement and desire.

Both of you turned to look at him, your bodies still moving, slow and teasing. "Not at all, husband." You purred, licking your lips. "We were just keeping each other warm in your absence."

"Then allow me to join you." Oberyn chuckled, pushing off the doorway, already untying his robe. He barely had time to shed his robe before you pushed him onto the bed, a wicked smirk playing on your lips. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement and raw hunger, hands already reaching for you. But you had other plans.

"No, no, my love." You cooed, straddling his chest and hovering just above his face. "Lie back and let me use you."

Oberyn groaned, his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you down onto his waiting mouth. The first stroke of his tongue had you gasping, arching, fingers tangling into his thick curls as he devoured you.

"Oh, gods, Oberyn." You moaned, rolling your hips and grinding your soaked folds against his skilled tongue. Your sweet Elena watched with wide, hungry eyes, her lips parted as her gaze flickered between your pleasure and the way Oberyn groaned beneath you.

"Don't just sit there.” You purred, looking down at her. "Suck his cock, my sweet." The woman didn't need to be told twice. She moved between Oberyn's legs, wrapping her delicate fingers around his thick, hard length, stroking him twice before parting her lips and taking him deep into her mouth. Oberyn growled against your cunt, his hips jerking upward at the sudden heat of her mouth, the sensation of being devoured from both ends.

"That’s it." You praised, grinding down harder, shuddering as Oberyn moaned into your pussy. "Take him as deep as you can." Elena whimpered, hollowing her cheeks, her hand stroking what she couldn't take. Oberyn’s fingers dug into your hips, his tongue working feverishly, flicking against your swollen clit, lapping up every drop of your pleasure.

"Fuck, my love." You trembled, thighs squeezing around his face as his tongue pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Elena let out a muffled moan around his cock, her hand moving faster, slick sounds filling the air as she sucked him greedily.

Oberyn was being used from both ends, and he loved every second of it. His lips glistened with your arousal as he finally pulled away from your trembling thighs, his dark eyes ablaze with hunger. His hands smoothed over your heated skin, squeezing possessively as he adjusted you, turning you around as your back now rests on his toned chest. "You taste divine, my love." He murmured, voice thick with lust, gripping his cock and teasing your soaked entrance with the swollen tip.

You whimpered, grinding down onto him, desperate for more, but before you could fully sink onto his length, Oberyn grabbed Elena by her chin, tilting her face up. "Now, my sweet thing." He purred to her, thumb tracing her swollen lips, still wet from sucking him off. "It’s your turn to feast as well." She nodded eagerly, crawling between your thighs, her eyes dark with lust as she settled beneath you. He gripped your hips and with one swift motion, buried himself deep inside you.

"Oh, gods!" Your cry echoes through the chambers as Elena’s eager mouth pressing against your sensitive folds, her tongue lapping up the mixture of your pleasure and Oberyn’s claim.

Oberyn groaned at the sensation, his cock stretching you deliciously, the vibrations of Elena’s muffled moans against your clit making you shudder. "Look at you, my love." He rasped, thrusting slowly, deeply, savoring the way your walls clenched around him. "Being worshipped like the goddess you are."

You could barely respond, too lost in the overwhelming pleasure of being stretched and devoured all at once. Elena whimpered beneath you, desperate and hungry, burying her tongue deeper, drinking in your essence as Oberyn fucked into you with slow deliberate thrusts.

"You're trembling already." Oberyn chuckled, voice laced with amusement and dark desire. He pressed a hand against your belly, feeling himself move inside you. "You love this, don't you? Being filled while our little pet worships your sweet cunt?" You nodded frantically, your body burning with pleasure, the sensations too much yet not enough.

Oberyn smirked, snapping his hips faster, sending you crashing into the courtesan’s eager tongue. "Then come for me, my love." He commanded, thrusting deeper and harder, chasing your release. "Come while she drinks every drop." Your thighs trembled, still sensitive from the relentless pleasure, yet your hunger for your husband was insatiable. He lay back on the silk-covered bed, his golden skin gleaming under the flickering candlelight, eyes hooded as he watched you roll off his cock and crawl between his legs. His cock stood thick and proud, glistening from where he had just been buried inside you.

"Such a greedy little thing." Oberyn mused while cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your swollen lips. "You can barely stand, yet here you are, eager for more."

"I can never get enough of you, my love." You smirked up at him, wrapping your fingers around his girth, feeling the heat of him pulsing in your grasp.

Before he could respond, you wrapped your lips around the head, flicking your tongue against the slit, savoring the taste of your own essence mixed with his. Oberyn groaned, his head tipping back against the pillows, fingers tightening in your hair. "Just like that, my sweet wife." He praised, hips rolling up into your warmth, chasing more of that blissful friction.

Behind you, Elena’s slim hands traced your hips, spreading you wider as she pressed soft kisses to your inner thighs. "You’re breathtaking." She murmured against your skin before her tongue found your swollen clit again, making you gasp around Oberyn’s cock.

The vibrations from your moan had Oberyn growling, his grip tightening. "Gods, you feel incredible." He hissed, his free hand tangling in your hair as he guided your movements.

Elena’s tongue moved in slow teasing strokes, her hands gripping your hips as she devoured you with eager hunger. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you hollow your cheeks and take Oberyn deeper, savoring the way he twitched inside your mouth. "You’ll be the death of me, woman." He rasped, his muscles tensing, the sight of you pleasuring him while being worshipped driving him wild. He couldn’t hold back much longer. With a deep growl, he thrust up into your mouth, fingers tight in your hair as he claimed you, the pleasure overwhelming.

Oberyn groaned, his chest rising and falling as he watched you with rapt attention. His dark eyes, hazy with pleasure and followed the slow deliberate way you lifted your head from his spent cock, a sinful mixture of his release and your own saliva glistening on your lips. "Fuck." He breathed, his fingers still tangled in your hair, completely enthralled by the sight of his perfect wife, so greedy and so utterly insatiable.

But you weren’t done yet. With a sultry smirk, you turned to the courtesan beside you, gripping her chin gently before pulling her into a heated kiss. Oberyn watched, his cock twitching in response, as you parted your lips, sharing his essence with the woman kneeling beside you. Elena moaned softly, her delicate hands grasping your waist as she eagerly licked into your mouth, tasting the remnants of her prince on your tongue.

Oberyn’s breath hitched. "You’re a wicked thing, aren’t you?" He mused, his voice thick with amusement and lingering lust.

"Would you have me any other way, my love?" You pulled away just enough to meet his gaze, your lips still glistening.

Elena hummed against your skin, pressing a kiss to your jaw before trailing her lips down your throat. "Your wife is quite divine, Prince Oberyn." She murmured, her hands roaming over your heated skin, tracing the curves of your body.

Oberyn chuckled darkly, his fingers lazily stroking up your thigh, possessive and teasing all at once. "That she is." He agreed, his grip tightening just enough to make you shudder. The hunger in his gaze returned.

"And I’m far from done with her." He leaned back against the pillows, his dark eyes glimmering with mischief and satisfaction as he watched the two of you entangled on the silk sheets. His wife, his perfect insatiable little wife, still slick and trembling from the pleasure he had given her, now tangled with their favorite courtesan, still eager for more.

But something was missing.

"Shall we indulge a little further, my love?" Oberyn murmured, running his fingers down your spine, making you shiver. You glanced over your shoulder at him, a smirk tugging at your swollen lips.

"What do you have in mind, my Prince?" You purred.

Oberyn reached for the bell at the bedside table and gave it a single, deliberate ring. Moments later, the door creaked open and in stepped a tall, well-built man with striking features and a confident smirk. "You summoned me, my Prince?” The man, Hugo, one of their usual courtesans as well that often joins them in their bed, confidently and politely asks.

Oberyn gestured toward the bed, where you lay gloriously bare, thighs still glistening with his claim. "Come." He said simply, eyes glinting with approval. "Let’s see if my wife can handle more." The male courtesan approached, his gaze raking over your body with appreciation. He slid onto the bed, hands already exploring the soft curves of your form, his lips pressing warm, teasing kisses along your shoulder.

Oberyn watched intently as his hands roamed your body possessively, tracing the marks he had already left. "Be gentle with her." He warned, though his tone was laced with amusement. "For now." You sighed in pleasure, caught between three lovers now, each eager to worship you in their own way.

And the night was far from over.

The scent of wine and jasmine lingered in the air, thick with sin and desire. You lay sprawled on the silken sheets, your body already tingling with pleasure but Oberyn was never one to stop when there was still more to give. "Such a sight." Your husband purred, his thumb brushing your swollen lips as he watched you with open hunger. "But we are not done yet, my love."

You barely had a moment to recover before Hugo settled between your thighs, his hands parting them further, his breath warm against your slick heat. He wasted no time, dragging his tongue along your folds, slow and teasing, before delving deeper, savoring every taste of you. You gasped, back arching at the sensation, but before you could catch your breath, Elena straddled your face, her thighs caging you in. She moaned as she sank down onto your waiting mouth, grinding against your tongue while her hands reached forward, grasping Oberyn’s length with practiced ease.

Oberyn groaned low in his throat, his head tilting back in pleasure as the female courtesan wrapped her lips around him, her tongue swirling over his tip before taking him deeper. His hand buried itself in her hair, guiding her movements while his dark gaze remained locked on you, his pretty little wife, lost in pleasure, surrounded, adored. "You take everything so beautifully, my love." He murmured, voice rough with desire. "Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

The vibrations of your muffled moan against the woman above you sent a shudder through her body, her hands tightening around Oberyn’s thighs as she took him even deeper. The room was filled with the sounds of pleasure, your muffled cries, the courtesans’ moans, Oberyn’s deep, guttural groans. "Don’t hold back, sweet girl." He encouraged, his voice nothing but silk and heat. "Let them hear how much you love this." And as Hugo’s tongue worked you relentlessly and the woman above you trembled from your touch, you did exactly that.

The night was far from over, and Oberyn was determined to see you properly ruined in the best possible way. You barely had time to catch your breath before Hugo, now aching with need, pulled Elena onto his lap. His hands gripped her waist as he guided her down onto his length, filling her inch by inch until she was gasping against your lips.

Oberyn, ever the generous prince, did not let you go unattended. With a firm grip on your hips, he positioned himself behind you, dragging the head of his cock along your soaked entrance. "You are still so eager.” He murmured, his voice laced with amusement and desire. "I could spend all night inside you, and it still wouldn’t be enough, would it?" You didn’t get the chance to answer before he slammed into you with one deep thrust, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your cry was muffled as the female courtesan captured your lips, swallowing your moans while she bounced on the man beneath her.

Oberyn’s hands gripped your waist tightly, guiding your movements as he drove into you over and over. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the chamber, mingling with breathy moans and desperate gasps. Elena tangled her fingers in your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss as she whimpered against your mouth. The two of you moved in sync, your bodies used and worshipped in equal measure.

"Such a perfect sight." Oberyn groaned, watching as you and the female courtesan shared breathless moans between kisses. The male courtesan beneath her let out a low grunt, his grip tightening on her hips as he thrust up into her, matching Oberyn’s brutal pace.

Oberyn’s hand slid up your spine, gripping the back of your neck as he pulled you away from the kiss, forcing you to look at him. His dark eyes were wild with possession and lust, his cock hitting deep, sending pleasure surging through you. "You belong to me." He growled against your ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your throat. "Say it."

"I belong to you, my prince." You gasped, your voice breaking with pleasure.

Oberyn rewarded you with a particularly rough thrust, drawing a shameless cry from your lips. The room was hot, bodies tangled in pleasure, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. "Let go, my love." He murmured, his lips pressing against your shoulder. "Let them hear how well I fuck my wife." And when you finally did, your cries of ecstasy echoed through the chambers, lost in the night’s sinful pleasure.

-----

The journey to King’s Landing had been long, but neither you nor Oberyn were in any rush to arrive at the Red Keep. No, instead of heading straight to the court of vipers, you found yourselves in the dimly lit halls of Lord Baelish’s infamous brothel.

"A wedding invitation." Oberyn had mused days ago, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Joffrey Baratheon marrying Margaery Tyrell. How quaint. Shall we attend, my love?"

"Only if we make a proper stop first." You had replied, smirking as you curled your fingers around the stem of your goblet. And so here you were, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight and draped in silks that clung to your curves as Oberyn’s fingers traced lazy circles on your thigh. The scent of perfumed oils and wine lingered in the air, mixed with the quiet moans of pleasure coming from the rooms beyond. Littlefinger had been more than pleased to host you. He knew better than to deny the Viper of Dorne and his lovely wife their desires for pleasures.

Oberyn had wasted no time indulging himself, his hands roaming your body even as he lounged on the plush cushions, watching the beautiful courtesans before him. "Which one do you like, my love?" He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as his fingers dipped beneath your skirts.

You smirked, tilting your head slightly to observe the selection before you. A beautiful array of men and women stood in silken robes, their gazes eager, waiting to be chosen. "Hmm…" You mused, tapping your chin with a playful glint in your eyes. "That one, perhaps." You pointed to a striking woman with dark hair and piercing green eyes, her gown sheer enough to leave little to the imagination.

Oberyn hummed in approval, his fingers curling against you beneath the table, drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. "A fine choice." He murmured. "Shall we begin our stay in King's Landing properly, then?" And with that, the night unfolded in silk and sweat, pleasure and power, just as it always did with Oberyn Martell.

The night had begun as it always did when you and Oberyn indulged in your shared pleasures, a haze of wine, silk, and wandering hands. The courtesan you had chosen was beautiful, undoubtedly so, with dark hair that fell in soft waves over her shoulders and eyes sharp enough to tempt. Yet, as the evening unfolded, it became clear that her attention was far more fixated on your husband than on you. You had felt it in the way her hands lingered too long on Oberyn’s chest, her nails tracing down his stomach with an almost possessive reverence. The way her lips sought his more often than yours. The way her gaze flickered to you only out of obligation, her hands moving over your body as an afterthought.

Oberyn had noticed.

Oh, he had noticed.

And the more it happened, the more his amusement soured into irritation. At first, he humored her, allowing her kisses, letting her hands roam but his dark eyes kept flickering to you, watching your reactions, sensing your growing disinterest. You had given him a look, one he knew well. A look that said: She is not worthy of our time. And so, with a casual flick of his wrist, Oberyn grasped the woman’s chin between his fingers, forcing her gaze onto his.

"Tell me, sweet thing…" He murmured, voice velvety smooth but laced with warning. "Did you forget who brought you to our bed?"

"I…" The courtesan stilled, blinking in confusion flickering across her features.

"Hush." Oberyn’s grip tightened just enough to make her lips part in a quiet gasp. "You bore me." He sighed, releasing her roughly before turning his full attention back to you.

"More importantly, you bore my wife." He waved his hand lazily. "Leave us."

"But my prince…" The woman hesitated, her cheeks flushing in humiliation.

"I said leave." The sharp finality in his tone left no room for argument. And so, with a frustrated sigh, the courtesan gathered her robes and left, her pride wounded and her presence forgotten before she even stepped out the door.

Oberyn exhaled through his nose, his irritation fading the moment she was gone. He turned to you, his expression softening as he cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his lips in a deep, possessive kiss. "My love." He murmured against your lips, "No one deserves to touch you unless they know how to worship you properly."

You smirked, threading your fingers through his dark curls, pulling him closer. "Then perhaps you should remind me." You purred softly into his ear. "What proper worship feels like." Oberyn chuckled darkly before flipping you onto your back, pinning you beneath him as he set out to do just that.

-----

Tyrion Lannister was no stranger to the sounds of Lord Baelish’s brothels, the muffled moans, the rhythmic creaking of beds, the occasional drunken laughter echoing down the halls. Yet, when he pushed open the door to the private chamber where Prince Oberyn and his wife were supposedly indulging themselves, he was still woefully unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

"Seven hells…!" His words died in his throat as his mismatched eyes landed on the two of you.

Oberyn had you pinned beneath him on the sumptuous red sheets of the brothel bed, his broad hands gripping your thighs as he drove himself into you with a fervor that was unmistakably possessive. You were utterly lost in pleasure, your nails dragging down his back, your lips parted in a breathless moan and your body arching to meet each thrust.

The Martell prince barely spared Tyrion a glance, too focused on the way your body clenched around him, the way you gasped his name between heavy breaths. "You have impeccable timing, Lannister." Oberyn drawled without pausing, his voice thick with amusement.

Tyrion, to his credit, did not immediately avert his gaze, though he did raise a skeptical brow and reach for the wine pitcher on the nearby table, pouring himself a much-needed cup. "I was sent to retrieve you." He announced dryly, taking a long sip as if that would somehow erase the image burned into his mind. "Though it seems you're otherwise engaged."

"Cersei sent you, didn’t she?" Oberyn finally slowed, lifting his head to glance at the imp with a smirk. 

"Yes, she insists you and your lovely wife join us at the Red Keep for dinner." Tyrion sighed, swirling the wine in his cup.

"And what does your darling sister want with us, I wonder?" Oberyn let out a soft chuckle, his hands trailing teasingly down your sweat-slicked skin, reveling in the way you shivered beneath him.

"To size up your wife, no doubt," Tyrion replied. "Cersei enjoys knowing who she’s dealing with."

"Then let her try." You finally stirred, lifting your head with a slow, wicked smile.

Oberyn grinned down at you before finally, and much to Tyrion’s relief, pulling away and rolling onto his back with a satisfied hum. "Tell your sister we shall be there shortly." He said lazily, stretching like a sated predator.

Tyrion gave a small bow, draining the rest of his wine before turning on his heel towards the wine table. "Take your time." He muttered. "Gods know I need more wine before I sit through dinner with Cersei anyway." And with that, he then takes a seat on the chair on the nearby table facing the bed, not having the intention to leave the room at all.

Oberyn only noticed when he turned his head, catching the imp lingering by the wine table, pouring himself yet another cup. The Martell prince smirked, his amber eyes gleaming with amusement. "Enjoying the show, Lannister?" He mused, dragging his fingertips down your sweat-slicked body, tracing the curve of your hip.

Tyrion took a long, unbothered sip of wine, his sharp gaze flickering between the two of you. "It would be rude to leave in the middle of such… passionate artistry." He said, his tone droll but his eyes betraying a hint of intrigue.

"My husband does have a certain… talent, doesn’t he?" You chuckled breathlessly, turning your head toward Tyrion with a slow knowing smirk.

Oberyn grinned, his pride evident as he leaned down to press an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, nipping at your pulse. "I do…" He murmured, his voice a low purr against your skin.

"Prince Oberyn, ever the exhibitionist." Tyrion hummed, swirling the wine in his cup.

Oberyn laughed, unbothered, his hands still mapping your body, still teasing and still possessive. "And you, dear Lannister, ever the connoisseur of life’s finer pleasures." He shot back.

"I do have an appreciation for passion in all its forms." Tyrion smirked, tipping his cup in mock salute.

Oberyn studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable, then without hesitation, he reached for the wine pitcher and poured a fresh cup, handing it to you. "Drink, my love." He purred. "We mustn’t keep the Queen Regent waiting too long."

The implication was clear. They would stay but not for much longer.

"By all means…" Tyrion drawled out. "...don’t let me interrupt." He merely chuckled, lifting his own cup once more as he leaned back comfortably, watching as Oberyn soon made sweet love to his pretty little wife again.

-----

Tyrion Lannister let out a low whistle. "Gods be good." He muttered, his sharp eyes lingering on the mess between your thighs, with Oberyn’s spend dripping from your swollen overstimulated cunt.

Oberyn, still catching his breath, laughed at the Lannister’s blatant admiration. "What’s wrong, Lannister?" He mused, tracing idle patterns over your stomach, his fingers grazing the sheen of sweat on your skin.

"I’ve seen many things in this brothel, but rarely something quite so… artistic." Tyrion took a slow sip of his wine, never looking away.

You chuckled breathlessly, turning your head to meet Tyrion’s gaze with a satisfied smirk. "High praise, coming from a Lannister." You teased, your voice still husky from pleasure.

Oberyn hummed in agreement, his fingers casually dipping between your thighs, spreading the evidence of your indulgence even further. You gasped at the sensitivity, your hips twitching involuntarily.

"She takes me so well, doesn’t she?" Oberyn murmured, his fingers lazily stroking your inner thigh, his touch still possessive and still claiming you.

Tyrion’s gaze flickered from your blissed-out expression to Oberyn’s smug satisfaction. "Prince Oberyn, I do believe you enjoy tormenting me." He drawled, setting his empty cup aside.

Oberyn grinned, leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips before finally pulling away. "You wound me, Lannister." He said, his voice dripping with amusement. He finally yet reluctantly eased himself from your body, reaching for a cloth to clean you with gentle care. His touch remained reverent, worshipful, as if savoring every last moment of his handiwork.

You sighed, sated, yet delighted at the attention. "I suppose we should make ourselves presentable." You murmured, your fingers brushing through Oberyn’s dark curls.

Oberyn smirked, tossing the soiled cloth aside. "Yes…" He agreed. "...before Cersei Lannister sends the Kingsguard to drag us to the Red Keep."

"Oh, I assure you, if she knew exactly what was delaying your arrival, she would send them with swords drawn." Tyrion chuckled, shaking his head as he stood.

Oberyn laughed, his hands tracing over your bare skin one last time before finally helping you up. "Then let us not keep the lioness waiting." He purred into your ear before placing one last tender kiss on your temple before finally getting dressed. 

-----

The grandeur of the Red Keep was as imposing as ever. Torchlight flickered against the high stone walls, casting long shadows as the great doors to the royal hall were pulled open before you. The air inside was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine and the unshakable tension that always seemed to linger among the Lannisters.

Oberyn kept a protective hand on the small of your back as you entered, the weight of his touch both possessive and grounding. His dark eyes flicked across the room, immediately taking in the assembled nobles, the glint of gold and crimson, the smug faces of House Lannister.

At the head of the room sat King Joffrey Baratheon, his cruel smile wide and arrogant. Margaery Tyrell, ever poised and graceful, sat beside him, offering the illusion of warmth as she greeted the gathered guests. "Ah, the Prince of Dorne finally graces us with his presence." Joffrey drawled, his voice laced with mockery.

Oberyn smirked, offering a dramatic bow. You followed suit, dipping your head just enough to appease the boy king but not enough to humble yourself. "Your Grace…" Oberyn greeted smoothly. "Apologies for our tardiness. My wife and I were… preoccupied." You resisted the urge to smirk, recalling exactly how you had spent your time before arriving. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Cersei Lannister watching the two of you with thinly veiled interest.

"Prince Oberyn, Lady Martell." Margaery interjected, her voice a soothing contrast to Joffrey’s arrogance. "We are honored by your presence. Please, join us for dinner."

Servants rushed to pull out chairs for you both, placing you among the more esteemed guests at the royal table. Oberyn’s fingers brushed over your knee beneath the table, a silent promise of mischief to come.

Across from you, Cersei raised a goblet of wine to her lips, watching you both with a knowing glint in her golden eyes. "Dorne has been quite… absent from King’s Landing’s affairs." She mused, her voice dripping with implication.

Oberyn, ever the provocateur, merely smiled. "We prefer the warmth of the sun to the cold walls of this dreadful keep." He replied. You sipped your wine, hiding your smirk as Cersei’s lips tightened.

Tyrion, seated farther down the table, met your gaze with an amused look, as if he alone knew exactly how you and Oberyn had been spending your time before arriving. Dinner progressed with idle conversation, tension simmering beneath every exchange. Joffrey’s cruelty was on full display as he taunted his uncle, flaunted his power, and relished in making those around him uncomfortable. But Oberyn remained relaxed, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh beneath the table, a silent reminder that no matter what political games the Lannisters played, he was not easily rattled.

"Tell me, Prince Oberyn," Joffrey suddenly said, voice laced with false curiosity. "Do you plan on remaining in King’s Landing long after the wedding?"

Oberyn tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. "That depends, Your Grace." He said smoothly. "I find this city most entertaining… though I have yet to decide if it is worth my time."

Joffrey bristled at the thinly veiled insult but before he could respond, you leaned in, running your fingers along the rim of your goblet as you spoke. "Perhaps you should ask Queen Cersei if we are welcome to stay." You mused, your voice dripping with mock innocence.

All eyes turned to Cersei as she held your gaze for a long moment before she smiled, slow and deliberate. "Oh, I do think you should stay." She murmured. "It has been quite some time since we’ve had guests as… intriguing as yourselves."

You weren’t sure if it was an invitation or a warning. But knowing Oberyn, it wouldn’t matter.

"I must say, Lady Martell." Cersei purred, her golden goblet poised elegantly between her fingers. "You certainly carry yourself with confidence. I suppose one must, when their claim to nobility is through marriage rather than blood."

Oberyn tensed beside you, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on your thigh beneath the table. His dark eyes flicked to you but he didn’t intervene, he knew better. You merely smiled, lifting your goblet in an effortless toast. "How fortunate that I married into a house where women are not mere ornaments, then."

A flicker of something sharp passed through Cersei’s eyes, but she kept her expression cool. "Ah, but tell me…" She continued. "...is it not exhausting? Keeping up with a man so…" She glanced at Oberyn with a smirk. "Energetic? Or do you find yourself easily replaced in his… pursuits?"

A softer woman might have faltered, but you only tilted your head, unbothered. "Replaced?" You echoed, swirling your wine in your glass. "How amusing. My love is generous but make no mistake, he always comes back to me." You let your gaze flick lazily over to her. "I wouldn’t expect you to understand, of course." Oberyn let out a low chuckle, his fingers resuming their slow, teasing circles on your thigh. He was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Cersei’s lips twitched, her patience waning. Good. "And what exactly do you contribute to House Martell, aside from warming his bed?" She asked sweetly, tilting her head.

You feigned surprise. "Oh, dear Queen, I thought you knew? I inspire my husband to be… rather ruthless in the things he loves." You took a sip of wine, letting the words settle. A not-so-subtle reminder of why he was truly in King’s Landing, to avenge his sister’s murder at the hands of Cersei’s own family.

A dangerous silence filled the space between you. Cersei’s grip on her goblet tightened, but before she could deliver another insult, Oberyn leaned forward, his voice silken and sharp as a blade. "You seem particularly interested in my wife’s talents, Queen Cersei." He mused, his eyes glinting with something dark. "Jealousy does not suit you."

A few scattered murmurs rippled through the table. Even Joffrey, smug and entertained, seemed to sense the shift in tension. Cersei’s jaw clenched but she forced a smile, unwilling to lose face in front of the court. "Hardly." She replied smoothly. "I simply find it… amusing, how quickly people rise above their station."

You let out a soft laugh, utterly unbothered. "And yet, here I am seated at the royal table, honored by invitation." You met her gaze, letting your own sharpen. "While you, dear Queen, were cast aside by your own husband for a younger woman."

The table went deathly silent. Cersei’s fingers went white around her goblet but before she could lash out, Tyrion let out a low whistle, cutting through the tension. "My, my…" He murmured, raising his cup in amusement. "This might be the first time I’ve actually enjoyed one of these dreadful dinners."

Oberyn smirked beside you, his eyes filled with nothing but pride and amusement. You raise your goblet toward Cersei, smirking. "To old queens and new ones." You toasted, before taking a sip. Cersei said nothing. But the fire in her eyes told you this wasn’t over.

-----

The door barely shut behind you before Oberyn’s hands were on you. "Gods, woman." He growled against your lips, his voice low and thick with desire. You barely had time to laugh before his mouth devoured yours, hot, desperate and hungry. His hands roamed your body, fingers gripping your waist as he walked you backward toward the bed.

"I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more than I do right now." He murmured between kisses, his breath hot against your skin as his lips trailed down your jaw. "The way you put that lioness in her place…" His teeth scraped lightly over your pulse point, making you shiver. "The way you looked at her, so poised and so untouchable."

His hands found your dress, yanking impatiently at the laces. "She thought she could rattle you." He continued, his voice husky with admiration. "But my love… you were magnificent."

You smirked against his lips, tilting your head back as he trailed kisses down your throat. "Did it make you hard?" You teased breathlessly.

Oberyn let out a low chuckle, his dark eyes blazing with heat. "What do you think?" He guided your hands to his tunic, letting you pull it over his head before his mouth was on yours again. His bare chest pressed against you, warm and solid, his heartbeat pounding against your own. Your dress slipped down your shoulders, pooling around your feet, leaving you bare before him.

"Perfect." He murmured, drinking in the sight of you, his hands tracing over every inch of your exposed skin. His calloused fingers caressed your hips, your waist and your breasts as if he were memorizing you all over again. You felt yourself being lowered onto the bed, Oberyn hovering above you. His hands braced on either side of your head, his mouth hovering just above yours.

"Tell me, my sweet wife…" He whispered, his nose brushing yours. "Did it make you wet? Putting a queen in her place?"

You shuddered as his fingers slid between your thighs, finding you already drenched. Oberyn groaned, his lips crashing into yours again. "You wicked thing." He purred against your mouth. "So wet for me already…"

You moaned into his kiss as he pressed against you, his hardness nestled between your legs. "Take me, then." You murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Show me how much you loved it."

Oberyn grinned wickedly, his eyes filled with nothing but hunger and devotion. "Oh, my love.” He murmured, lining himself up against you. "I intend to." And with one smooth thrust, he buried himself inside you, claiming you all over again.

Oberyn’s pace was slow but deep, each thrust deliberate as he stretched and filled you. His hands pinned yours above your head, his weight pressing you into the mattress as his lips devoured every gasp and moan that escaped you. "Look at you." He murmured against your skin, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes. "So beautiful like this, writhing beneath me and taking me so well."

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body arching into his as he angled his hips just right, making you cry out. But then a slow deliberate clap echoed through the chamber. Oberyn froze. Your breath caught, heat flooding your cheeks as your head snapped toward the source of the sound. Tyrion Lannister stood at the threshold of your bedchamber, leaning against the doorframe with a goblet in hand, his expression one of sheer amusement.

"Well, well…" Tyrion mused, swirling his wine lazily. "I must say, this is quite the welcoming sight."

Oberyn didn’t move, he didn’t even look surprised. If anything, his lips curled into an infuriating smirk as he glanced over his shoulder at the imp. "Tyrion." He drawled, his voice low and sultry. "You have the most fascinating timing, my friend."

You, on the other hand, buried your face in Oberyn’s neck, mortified. "Seven hells, did you forget to lock the door?!" You hissed against his skin.

"Perhaps I wanted to give our dear lion cub a show." Oberyn only chuckled, shifting his hips slightly, making you bite your lip to stifle a moan. 

"Oh, don’t stop on my account. I do hate to interrupt such… passionate displays of affection." Tyrion took a slow sip of his wine, completely unbothered. 

Your face burned, but Oberyn was thriving. "Passionate, yes…" The Dornish prince agreed, rolling his hips experimentally, sending a shiver down your spine. "My wife is quite…"

"Oberyn!" You smacked his shoulder, mortified.

"Truly, I should have expected this from you, Prince Oberyn. But dear lady, I must say, I admire your stamina." Tyrion chuckled. 

Oberyn’s eyes darkened as he turned back to you, dragging his lips over your jaw. "She’s insatiable." He murmured, his voice husky with pride.

"And yet somehow, I find myself neither surprised nor scandalized." Tyrion hummed, watching the two of you with interest. 

"Then tell me, Lannister… are you merely an observer tonight?" Oberyn turned his head slightly, his golden gaze meeting Tyrion’s. 

"Oberyn!" You gasped, eyes wide. 

But Tyrion only laughed, raising his goblet. "Tempting offer, truly. But I think I’ll leave this one to you, dear prince. As much as I enjoy the finer pleasures in life, I prefer my head unsquashed by a vengeful Martell suck as yourself."

"A shame. I do love an audience." Oberyn chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

"Enjoy your evening, lovebirds." Tyrion merely smirked, downing the rest of his wine. 

And with that, he turned, leaving the chamber and shutting the door behind him. "You are impossible." You exhaled sharply, glaring at your husband. 

"Now, where were we, my love?" Oberyn merely grinned, thrusting deep once more, pulling a gasp from you. He was still inside you, his weight warm and solid against you as he kissed the shell of your ear, his voice thick with amusement. "You seemed quite flustered, my love."

"Oberyn, we were just caught in the middle of…" You groaned, hiding your face in his shoulder. 

"Passionate love-making?" He finished smoothly, grinning against your skin. "Hardly the most scandalous thing to happen in King’s Landing." You huffed, lifting your head to glare at him but his golden gaze was mischievous, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "Tell me, sweet wife…" He purred, dragging his lips down the column of your throat, "Were you embarrassed because Tyrion saw you like this? Or were you disappointed that he left?"

"Oberyn." You stiffened. 

His smirk deepened. "Would you have liked it, hmm?" He mused, his fingers trailing down your side, his touch feather-light, teasing. "Having the lion stay and watch you come undone beneath me?"

"Oberyn…" You try to interject but was deemed useless as he sharply thrusts into your soaking cunt.

"Or perhaps…" He nipped at your jaw. "You wanted more than just his eyes on you?" Your stomach tightened, heat pooling between your legs despite your best efforts to ignore it. Oberyn noticed. He always noticed. "Oh, my love." He chuckled, voice dripping with sinful delight. "You do like the idea, don’t you?"

Your throat was dry, your heart pounding, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Oberyn merely hummed, amused. "Imagine it." He continued, his hands roaming your body, his touch feather-light and torturous. "The mighty Tyrion Lannister, watching you fall apart under my touch. Would he resist, I wonder?" His lips ghosted over yours, teasing. "Or would he give in and join us?"

"You are insufferable." You swallowed hard, trying to glare at him despite the heat pooling between your thighs. 

"And yet you love me." Oberyn murmured, pressing a slow, deep kiss to your lips. You melted into it, fisting his curls, but when he pulled back, his eyes still held that wicked gleam. "Shall I extend an invitation to the lion, my love?" He purred, dragging his hand between your thighs and spreading your slick onto your swollen throbbing clit.

"My love…" You shivered, biting your lip. 

"Shall we make a Lannister lose his breath for once?" He teased and you could only whimper as your dear devilish husband only eagerly grinned.

-----

Tyrion Lannister was beginning to think the Gods were punishing him.

Or perhaps the Dornish Prince had cursed him.

Because no matter where he went in this cursed palace, no matter what time of day, he somehow always, always managed to stumble upon Oberyn Martell buried inside his wife. At first, it had been mildly amusing, catching them in the depths of Lord Baelish’s brothel, the Red Viper shamelessly thrusting into his wife while she moaned like a whore beneath him. It wasn’t exactly a rare sight in King’s Landing, and Tyrion had simply offered a toast before making himself scarce.

But then… it had happened again.

And again.

And again.

The second time was at dinner, when the royal family had invited Oberyn and his wife to the Red Keep. The meal had been filled with thinly veiled insults and venomous glances, particularly from Cersei, who had attempted to humiliate Oberyn’s wife.

But the lady had held her own.

No, she had flourished.

Her sharp tongue had cut through Cersei’s arrogance like Valyrian steel, reducing the Queen Regent to a fuming, seething mess.

It was delicious to watch.

And clearly, Oberyn had thought so too. Because when Tyrion had later wandered into the hallways, he had found the prince slamming his wife against the wall, his robe half open with her dress bunched up around her hips as he thrust into her with reckless abandon. Tyrion had turned right back around, pretending he had seen nothing.

Yet it continued.

The next time had been in the gardens, where Oberyn had his wife straddling his lap beneath the moonlight, his hand wrapped around her throat as she rode him. Then, in the royal library, where Oberyn had bent her over a table, his teeth sunk into her shoulder as she bit down on her own fingers to keep from screaming.

And now?

Tyrion had only wanted a goddamn drink. He had been halfway to the wine cellar when he turned a corner, only to freeze, his patience finally reaching its limit. "Oh for fuck’s sake." Because there they were. Again.

Oberyn had his wife pinned against the stone wall, his hands gripping her thighs, his hips slamming into her with ruthless practiced ease. Her fingers clawed at his back, her moans muffled against his neck.

The Dornish Prince barely spared Tyrion a glance. "Ah, lion." Oberyn drawled, completely unbothered. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Tell me, Martell, do you ever stop fucking?" Tyrion sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. 

 "Not when I have a wife as exquisite as mine." Oberyn grinned.

"You truly do have terrible luck, Lord Tyrion." The lady in question merely giggled breathlessly, biting your lip as you looked over Oberyn’s shoulder.

"Yes, well, apparently the Gods enjoy torturing me." Tyrion exhaled sharply. 

Oberyn laughed, turning back to his wife, whispering something filthy against your lips before resuming his pace.

"I need a drink." Tyrion groaned. And with that, he turned and stalked off. At this point, he should have expected it.

-----

Tyrion Lannister had seen many things in his life. He had seen wars waged and kingdoms crumble. He had seen kings rise and fall, heads lopped off, and bodies burned by wildfire. He had seen things most men would never even dream of.

And yet…

Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared him for this.

It had started as a perfectly normal, if not mildly insufferable, dinner. The royal family, along with their esteemed guests, were seated at the grand feasting table and indulging in their meal as the air thrummed with thinly veiled tension. Cersei was sipping her wine delicately, yet her eyes burned with disdain as she sent snide remarks toward Oberyn and his wife. Joffrey was being an insufferable little prick, bragging about his upcoming wedding to Margaery Tyrell as if it were the event of the century. Jaime was mostly silent, occasionally rolling his eyes at his sister’s incessant need to antagonize Oberyn’s wife. Tyrion, as usual, was trying to drink himself into a stupor just to endure the whole affair.

But then, the gods decided to smite him once more. He had reached for his goblet of wine, only to accidentally knock his spoon off the table. It clattered against the floor, slipping beneath the tablecloth.

"Bloody fantastic." Tyrion sighed. He slid off his chair, bending down to retrieve it, only to freeze mid-motion. Because there, directly across from him, hidden beneath the long silk tablecloth, was a sight that made him nearly choke on his own breath.

Oberyn Martell, seated elegantly in his chair, sipping his Dornish wine with casual ease, had his other hand buried between his wife’s thighs. And from what Tyrion could tell, he was knuckle-deep inside you. The unmistakable wet sound of fingers curling against slick heat filled the space beneath the table.

Tyrion nearly threw his spoon across the room. His eyes darted upward, half-praying this was some sick hallucination. But no. No, this was very real. Oberyn’s pretty little wife sat perfectly poised, your hands delicately folded in your lap, your expression serene as ever. And your breath hitched ever so slightly.

Tyrion could see it. The faintest quiver in her lips. The way her thighs trembled subtly as Oberyn’s fingers worked their sinful magic. And the bastard had the audacity to keep sipping his wine, completely unfazed. He jerked his head up, slamming back into his chair.

"Problem, dear brother?" Cersei arched a brow at his sudden movement. 

"No. No problem at all." Tyrion forced a tight smile. Oberyn, the smug son of a whore, smirked knowingly and lifted his cup in a silent toast. Tyrion, meanwhile, downed his own goblet of wine in one go.

This was going to be a long, long night.

-----

Tyrion Lannister should have known better.

By now, he had come to accept his fate.

Fate, it seemed, had a particular fondness for putting him in situations where he was forced to witness the Red Viper of Dorne and his insatiable wife tangled in sinful, breathless debauchery.

And tonight?

Tonight was no different.

The door to Oberyn’s chambers was slightly ajar. Tyrion hadn’t meant to look. But the moment he passed by, he heard it.

A low, throaty moan.

A deep, guttural groan.

A wet, filthy squelch.

And then Oberyn’s voice, rich and teasing. “You are dripping, my love… look at how well you take me.”

Tyrion stopped in his tracks. Gods help him, he decided to look. And what he saw made his mouth run dry. Inside the chamber, Oberyn had his wife bent over the edge of the bed, your back arched sinfully and your hands gripping the sheets. Your body was a work of art, flushed, glistening and trembling. Your devilish husband was buried deep inside you, his hips flush against your ass, his hands gripping your waist with a possessive fervor.

And yet, he wasn’t moving.

Not yet.

No.

Because the bastard was too preoccupied with something else. With showing off. One of his hands was gripping your flesh, spreading you wide and holding you open just enough for Tyrion to see. To see just how full you were. To see the way Oberyn’s cock stretched you tight, how your body quivered around him, struggling to take him in. To see the glistening mess he had already left inside you, leaking out in slow and sinful rivulets.

And Oberyn was looking right at him. His dark alluring eyes gleamed with mischief, his lips curled in a smug, knowing smirk. As if he had been waiting for Tyrion to see this. As if he was showing him, boasting, reveling in his own sinful glory.

Tyrion nearly dropped his goblet of wine.

Seven bloody hells.

“What’s wrong, Lannister? You look rather pale.” Oberyn chuckled, his voice a lazy purr. 

Tyrion, for once in his life, was speechless. "You are a menace." He swallowed thickly, tearing his gaze away. 

Oberyn only laughed, finally thrusting forward, making his wife cry out in pleasure.

Tyrion turned on his heel and marched away.

He needed another drink. Immediately.

[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.

[fic-girlie]

Claimed by the Sun

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x f!reader

Summary: You were just a common woman in sun-soaked Dorne, never expecting the attention of Prince Oberyn Martell. But the moment his eyes found yours, everything changed. What began as a night of raw, consuming pleasure unfolded into something deeper—something tender, possessive, and entirely unforgettable. In his arms, you became more than a passing desire. You became his.

Warnings: 18+ explicit smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, swearing, language, dirty talk (kinda?), reader has longer hair

A/N: Hey everyone! I just want to say thank you for the support and the positive responses! Requests are open, so if you have any ideas that you would want to read, feel free to share them with me! :))

The warm Dornish sun beat down on the palace, casting long shadows that stretched across the courtyard. The day was winding down, the heat of noon giving way to a more gentle warmth as evening approached. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine, carried by a soft breeze, and the low hum of the palace was quieter than usual. There was no rush to return to the palace halls or resume duties; the quietude of the garden held you in a trance, coaxing you to remain just a moment longer.

You weren’t supposed to be out here. Not in these gardens. You were a servant—nothing more—but something about the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, the way it cast golden patches on the stone paths, made you feel as though you could be more, if only for a fleeting moment. You didn’t belong in this world of luxury, yet for now, you indulged in the peace it offered, walking through the lush, green paradise, letting the beauty of the world surrounding you swallow you whole.

Your fingers brushed against the rough stone of the old palace wall as you walked, your thoughts drifting, when you heard the sound of footsteps behind you. Your heart skipped a beat, and you instinctively slowed your pace, glancing over your shoulder.

There, standing just a few paces away, was Oberyn Martell. The Red Viper.

You had heard whispers about him for as long as you could remember—the charming, dangerous man who wielded power like a sharp blade. His reputation was not something easily ignored, and yet, in this moment, there he was, watching you as if you were the only thing that mattered. His gaze locked with yours, intense and unwavering.

He wasn’t smiling, but the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly as he stepped closer. The way he moved was fluid, purposeful, like a predator circling its prey, but there was no threat in his approach, only an unnerving calmness. The air between you grew thick as he closed the distance, his presence so commanding that you could feel your breath hitching, and your heart beating faster in your chest.

“Enjoying the gardens, are you?” His voice was soft, but it carried and undeniable weight. His words were both a question and a statement, as if he already knew the answer.

You turned slightly, looking up at him. The sunlight made his features sharper, more defined, but it was his eyes—the depth of them—that drew you in. Dark, almost too dark, but not cold. There was a warmth there, something hidden behind the intensity that left you wondering if there was more to this man than the stories told.

“I… I come here sometimes,” you stammered, the words catching in your throat. “It’s quiet. Peaceful.”

Oberyn’s lips quirked upward at the corners, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Peaceful?” he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue. “In a place such as this, one would think there are more… exciting ways to pass the time.” His gaze shifted over you, lingering on your features, before it returned to your eyes. “But then again, I’ve always been drawn to quiet moments myself.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing. He was closer now, just an arm’s length away. His presence felt like a storm gathering, the air charged with an energy you didn’t know how to handle. He wasn’t just looking at you—he was studying you, his dark eyes tracing the curve of your jaw, the way your hands clasped together, the subtle tension in your posture.

For a fleeting moment, you could have sworn his gaze softened, as if he was seeing something that no one else could. And in that moment, your own defences crumbled, just a little. His eyes held a knowing that unsettled you, a strange connection that you couldn’t place but didn’t want to ignore either.

“Do you always roam these halls unnoticed?” He asked, his voice now a low murmur, as if the question was more for himself than for you.

You stiffened slightly, suddenly self-conscious of the unspoken truth in his words. You were, in the grand scheme of things, just another face among many—a servant who would never be seen by those who mattered. But with Oberyn Martell standing before you, the truth felt too stark, too real. “I’m… nothing,” you said quietly, barely above a whisper.

He took a step closer, his gaze still locked with yours. “Nothing?” he repeated softly, almost as if he was tasting the word on his tongue. “I think you’re something.”

You felt a shiver run through you at his proximity. The way he looked at you was unlike anything you had ever experienced—intense, intense enough to make your heartbeat quicken. His eyes darkened slightly, and his voice lowered further. “What’s your name?”

For a moment, you hesitated. A part of you wanted to retreat, to vanish back into the shadows of the palace, but the warmth in his gaze held you in place. “It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, though you weren’t sure whether you were convincing him—or yourself.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I beg to differ.” His voice was rich with amusement. “It matters very much to me.”

Your breath hitched in your throat again. His words were spoken with such conviction that they felt like an invitation, though you couldn’t understand what it was you were being invited into. The tension between you just grew, thick and unyielding, as if the very air around you were charged with some unspoken force, pulling you in.

“I’ve seen you here before,” he continued, his voice soft but carrying an undeniable weight. “Walking alone. You always seem to be searching for something, though I’m not sure you even know what it is yet.”

His gaze deepened as he took another step closer, his presence enveloping you. It was as if the entire garden fell away, leaving just the two of you standing at the edge of something intangible, something dangerous. “Are you searching for peace?” he asked, the question lingering between you like a challenge. “Or something else?”

You stood there, frozen, unsure of how to respond. The words seemed to have left you, your throat tight as if you were choking on the gravity of the moment. But Oberyn was patient, watching you closely, waiting.

Finally, you spoke, though it came out quieter than you intended. “I don’t know what I’m searching for,” you confessed, the truth slipping from your lips before you could hold them back. “I just… I don’t want to be invisible anymore.”

His gaze softened just slightly, and for a moment, there was a quiet understanding between you. “Then you shouldn’t be,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I see you.”

The words sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks, and though you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything more, you felt something shift in that moment—a fragile, unspoken bond that neither of you could deny.

You didn’t know how long you stood there, bathed in the golden Dorne light, heart pounding in your chest. Time stretched and twisted around his presence, each second dense and charged, filled with the weight of his gaze. His words clung to your skin—I see you. You wanted to ask what he saw. You wanted to believe it was more than just a whim, more than a passing curiosity. But your throat was tight, and the only sound in the garden was the gently rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds.

“Tell me,” he broke the silence, his voice low, laced with amusement, “do you really wander into the gardens when no one is watching?”

You shrugged, the gesture small. “Only when I need to breath.”

He nodded, as though he understood too well. “Palaces are beautiful… but they can feel like cages. Even here.”

Your eyes lifted to meet his. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve only ever lived in the shadows of one.”

A pause. Something softened in his expression. The tension between you shifted from charged to intimate—like two secrets leaning toward each other.

“I don’t believe you belong in the shadows. You belong in the light,” he said simply.

Your breath caught. His hand reached out, slowly, deliberately, and his fingers brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was light—barely there—but the effect was immediate. Your skin prickled where his fingers had been, as if he’d left heat in his wake. Your heart thundered in your chest, and you knew he felt it. Knew he saw everything.

“I saw you earlier today,” he continued, his voice low, reserved for you alone. “On the edge of the marketplace, near the fountain. You were laughing.”

Your eyes widened.

“I wondered then how someone could be so quiet and still have a laugh like that.”

You weren’t sure what startled you more—that he remembered, or that he’d noticed you at all. You hadn’t seen him that day. You’d been balancing baskets of linens, sharing a joke with the other women before the bell called you back inside.

“You… noticed me?” you asked, and the question sounded too small for the weight behind it.

His smile was slow, wicked, but warm. “I notice many things. But not all of them stay with me.”

A long silence followed. You could still feel where his fingers had brushed against your skin, the ghost of his touch more vivid than it should have been.

“You don’t speak like a prince,” you murmured.

He arched a brow. “And how should a prince speak?”

“Like you’re used to people bowing.”

He grinned, eyes gleaming with something sharp and playful. “I’d rather they look me in the eye.”

You were about to speak, to offer some uncertain reply, when he leaned in just slightly—not touching, not quite—but his closeness made your breath still in your chest. His voice dropped, low and silken, brushing against your skin like silk.

“You’re still looking at me,” he said.

You swallowed. “So are you.”

His smile widened, eyes alight with interest and something deeper—something like hunger. “Then we understand each other.”

You didn't know what came next. You only knew that if he stepped even closer, you wouldn't move away. You would lean into it. Let yourself fall into whatever this was. Even if it was fleeting.

The wind shifted, and he straightened slightly. But his gaze never left yours.

“I'd like to see you again,” he said. It wasn't a question. It wasn't even a suggestion. It was a truth spoken aloud. You didn't answer with words. You didn't need to.

Because in that moment, he smiled, and turned away. And as he walked down the stone path, you knew—without doubt—that this wasn't the last time he'd find you in the gardens.

Not even close.

——

The world felt quieter after he left.

You stood rooted in the garden, your fingers still curled together. The space around you still full of him—his voice, his heat, the scent of sun—warmed spice a d citrus that clung to his skin. Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, like your body wasn't sure whether to relax or remain poised for something more.

Oberyn Martell had seen you.

He had looked into your eyes like you were a puzzle he was suddebly very eager to solve, and even now, with him gone, the weight of that gaze lingered on your skin like a mark. Not cruel. Not possessive. But focused. Intent. As if he had taken a pice of you with him.

You sat on the edge of the stone fountain, trying to slow your racing thoughts. Around you, the garden swayed softly in the warm breeze—pale pink blossoms trembling against tangled green, vines creeping along old stone walls that had seen centuries pass. You'd always loved this place, because it made you feel small in a way that didn't hurt. It reminded you that the world was bigger than your daily tasks and your silent life among silk-clad nobility.

But now... now it felt different. Like it had been rewritten in a language only Oberyn knew, and he'd whispered the first words of it against your skin.

Your thoughts spiralled. He'd seen you in the market. You pictured it—what you'd worn, what you'd said, who had made you laugh. It was a small moment, insignificant to you. And yet he remembered it. A laugh. Your laugh.

Why?

And what had he meant, I'd like to see you again?

It shouldn't mean anything. You were a seevant. A common girl whose name he didn't even know. You should have dismissed it as flirtation, as one of those idle distractions men like him pursued between wars and political games.

But your heart told you not to.

Because something in his voice hadn't been light. Something in the was he spoke to you—looked at you—had suggested a different kind of hunger. Not the kind that faded with the next hour or the next face. The kind that lingered in shadows and sunlight alike. You'd never been someone worth lingering over before.

Your fingertips found the edge of your skirt and twisted the fabric in thought. You couldn't pretend you hadn't wanted him to step even closer. You couldn't pretend you hadn't felt that wild, reckless pull in your chest—like something tethered had snapped loose inside you.

He had noticed you. Not just your face. Not just your figure.

You.

The girl who took linens down from balconies and swept dust from corridors and tried not to be seen.

And now you weren't sure if you could return to that kind of silence.

——

Later that night, when the palace had grown still and your tasks were finished, you found yourself wandering again. Not because you meant to see him—surely he had more important places to be—but because your body moved before your thoughts could catch up.

The garden was darker now, bathed in moonlight. The air cooler, scented with crushed herbs and orange blossoms. It should have felt safe. Familiar. But every sound now felt more vivid—every shadow more alive.

You traced the path you had walked earlier, past the stones that held the heat of the day, past the low wall with vines curling over the edge. You paused beneath a blooming tree, the petals pale in the dim light, and tilted your face to the sky.

You stood still beneath the orange tree, your fingers curling gently at your sides, the night air brushing againat your skin like a whispered secret. Moonlight danced across the courtyard in silvery ribbons, pooling at your feet and catching in the folds of your dress. The world is hushed around you—no footsteps, no voices, only the soft rustle of leaves and your breath, slow and uneven, caught somewhere between apprehension and anticipation.

And then—

“You came back.”

His voice didn't startle you. Somehow, you'd already felt his presence, the way the air shifted just moments before he spoke. Like the garden itself had gone still to welcome him.

You didn't turn around right away. The words hang in the space between you, heavy and knowing. A confession. An invitation.

“I didn't think you'd be here,” you said softly, your voice barely carrying across the space.

“But you hoped,” he replied, and when you do finally look over your shoulder, he's already stepping closer.

He was't dressed in finery tonight—no gold-threaded embroidery or jewels, no signs of his title—but there was still something regal about him. Something commanding in the way he moves, slow and sure, like he's never once questioned whether he belongs wherever he walks. He wears deep wine-coloured linen tonight, sleeves rolled to his elbows, throat bare, dark hair kissed by the breeze. And those eyes—deep, dark, burning even in the moonlight—locked onto yours as if you were the only thing worth seeing.

“I said I wanted to see you again, “he said. “And I do not often say things I don't mean.”

You turned to face him fully, the silvery glow of the night wrapping around you both, pulling you closer without a single touch.

“You still don't know my name,” you whispered.

He stopped a few paces away, far enough that you could retreat—but close enough that you feel the pull of him like gravity.

“No,” he murmured, “but I'd like to learn it from your lips.”

Your breath hitched. There's something so unguarded in the way he said it—no teasing, no seduction laced into the syllables—just simple, raw sincerity.

You glanced down at your hands, now clenched in front of you, and then back up at him. “It's not a name that belongs in a prince's mouth.”

He tilted his head to the side, and the expression that crossed his face was unreadable at first. Thoughtful. Sharp. And then it softened into something that almost startled you: gentleness.

“I don't care what name you were given. I care how it sounds when you speak it aloud.”

You gave it to him, hesitant but unashamed, and when he repeated it, his accent wrapped around the vowels like a caress.

He said your name like it was a secret. Like it was a prayer.

It left your lips dry, your throat tight, your chest rising and falling with the weight of the moment. You've never heard your name spoken like that before. You never thought it could sound like something precious.

He stepped closer.

The silence between you stretched again, but this time it hummed. His hand lifted slightly, not touching, just hovering near your arm, as if asking permission without saying a word. Your skin prickled beneath the weight of his attention, your heartbeat a wild, winged thing in your chest.

“You don't speak like a servent,” he said quietly.

You blinked. “And you don't act like a prince.”

He smiled, and it's slower this time. Deeper. There's something in it that unravels you, that sinks into your stomach like warm honey and heat.

“I've never cared for rules,” he said. “Especially the ones written by men who have never looked a woman like you in the eye.”

You should have looked away. You should have stepped back. But instead, you took a step forward.

Now you were close enough to see the few graying strands at his temples, the faint lines around his eyes, to smell the mix of citrus and spiced wine on his skin, to feel the subtle warmth radiating off his body. Your breath mingles with his, and the garden vanishes around you. There is only him. Only this moment.

“Why me?” you asked, because the question's been clawing at your insides since this morning. “You could have anyone.”

“I don't want anyone,” he said without hesitation. “I want the woman who thought no one was watching her, and laughed like the world didn't matter. I want the woman who looked at me like I was just a man—and not a title.”

Your chest tightened, not with fear—but with the aching, terrifying possibility that he means it.

“You still think you're nothing?” he asked again, softer this time.

You shook your head, your voice quiet. “I don't know what to think anymore.”

He reached out, and this time, his fingers graze your jaw—just barely, just a whisper of touch, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Would you like me to show you?” he asked.

You didn't answer. You couldn't. Your body was already speaking for you, inching closer until the tips of his fingers brushed your skin again and stayed there.

He didn't move to kiss you. Not yet. He was waiting—for you.

And in that pause, in the aching silence between breath and desire, you felt the shift.

You weren't just being looked at. You were being seen.

But you had never meant to be seen.

And now, here you were, standing in his garden in the dead of night, your breath shallow in your chest, your pulse loud in your ears as he looked at you again—like he still hadn’t had his fill.

The torchlight flickered over the angles of his face. The strong line of his nose, the shadows beneath those dark eyes that held something deeper than lust. Curiosity, yes. Want, clearly. But something else, too—something that felt like recognition.

You weren’t sure what to do with that.

“My thoughts were filled with you,” he spoke up again.

You blinked, your voice barely audible. “Why would you think of me?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze travelled slowly down your body and back up, lingering—not in the way of a man surveying something to possess, but in the way someone stares at a mystery they intend to solve.

“Because I couldn’t stop wondering what you looked like up close,” he said. “What you sounded like. What you would taste like if I had the nerve to ask.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Heat rose to your cheeks, a tremor running down your spine as the weight of his attention pressed into you.

He reached for you slowly, as if trying not to startle a bird with its wings half-spread. His fingers brushed yours first—just a touch—and your hand twitched instinctively, but didn’t pull away. His hand turned, palm up, waiting.

You placed yours in it. His grip was warm, strong. Confident without pressure.

“You don’t need to say anything,” he said. “You can leave, and I’ll think of you anyway. I’ll wake with you in my mouth, even if I never get to taste you.”

That did something to you.

You didn’t move for a moment—just stood there, his words like fire licking across your skin. But then you stepped into him, your chest brushing his, your free hand rising to touch his shoulder. You felt the subtle shift in his breath. The way he steadied himself.

And then he leaned in—slow, slow, slower than any men you’d ever known—and pressed his mouth to yours. It was not a princely kiss. It was not rushed or hungry. It was reverent.

His lips moved over yours like a vow. He tasted of wine and warm night air. His thumb stroked the inside of your wrist, grounding you, anchoring you to the present moment as your body lit with quiet fire. You didn’t even realize your other hand had slid to the side of his neck until you felt the heat of his skin, the pulse under your fingers.

He deepened the kiss, carefully, until your breath shuddered against his. Then he pulled back, eyes flicking between yours.

“Come,” he whispered, voice rougher now. “Let me take care of you.”

You nodded once.

You followed him, barefoot over cool stone floors warmed by the heat of late evening. The soft rustle of your dress echoed faintly between walls carved with Dornish patterns—spiralling suns, climbing flowers, ancient sigils etched into polished sandstone. The torches along the hallway burned low, casting golden shadows that danced across your skin and his as he led you towards the place you had never imagined you’d be.

It didn’t feel like being taken somewhere. It felt like being brought home.

His chambers were not gaudy or ostentatious. They smelled of myrrh and citrus, with breezes filtering in through silk-draped arches that opened to a private balcony above the garden. A low fire crackled in the hearth. Candles flickered from high niches. The bed was broad and built low to the ground, draped in layers of woven fabrics and bare skin-toned silks that pooled around the corners like water.

But none of it compared to him.

He stood in the middle of the room, turning slowly as if inviting you to take him in. His mouth was parted, eyes tracing your form not with hunger alone, but wonder. No one had ever looked at you like that before.

“Oberyn…” you started, uncertain what you meant to say—whether it was a question or a warning or a plea.

He crossed the space in two quiet steps. His hand rose to your cheek again, thumb brushing just beneath your lower lip.

“You can say my name as many times as you like,” he murmured. “Or say nothing at all.”

Your lips parted again, but this time for him. He kissed you softly, then with more weight, your bodies pressing closer, melting into one another like the sun into sand. His hands didn’t rush. One slid into your hair, the other curved around your lower back, pulling you closer without urgency. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss as his tongue slid past your lips, coaxing a low sound from your throat you hadn’t known you could make. He responded to it with a quiet hum of pleasure.

When he pulled back, his voice was low and warm. “You feel too far away.”

And with those words, he reached for the sash at your waist. But slowly. Studying your face. Making sure. You didn’t stop him.

The knot loosened beneath his fingers. Your dress gave way, slipping from your shoulders like a sigh. The fabric whispered down your arms, down your hips, until it was puddled at your feet. You stood there, bared to him, the candlelight drawing gold across your skin.

You felt the flutter of nerves—uncertainty and vulnerability threading through the air between you—but he looked at you as if you were something ancient and holy, something long awaited. His hands didn’t go to your breasts, or between your thighs. Not yet. Instead, he traced the curve of your waist, the dip just above your hipbone, the inside of your arm.

It wasn’t lust alone in his eyes. It was reverence. “You are,” he murmured, “the most exquisite thing I’ve ever touched.”

The words should have sounded rehearsed. Prince-like. But they didn’t. They felt raw, spoken from some place below language. They made your heart stutter.

And then he undressed.

He pulled his tunic over his head in one smooth movement. The sight of him—bare-chested, firelight rolling over every muscle, every little scar, the slope of his collarbone, the trail of dark hair down the centre of his stomach—stole the breath from your lungs.

He stepped closer again. “Lie back for me.”

You did.

The sheets beneath your skin were warm, soft, and when he joined you on the bed—his body beside yours, hands roaming with quiet curiosity—it felt like something elemental. Something inevitable. One hand slipped under your knee, guiding your leg to bend, to open, and his mouth followed in the space that was left. But he didn’t go lower. Not yet.

He kissed your throat, your collarbone, the curve of your breast—lips and tongue and breath combining in an intoxicating pattern that made you arch into him, your hips shifting without thought. His hand came up to cradle your ribs, fingers splaying over your side, holding you with that same impossible mix of gentleness and control.

And still, he didn’t rush.

You’d never been touched like this—like a story he meant to read one line at a time, savouring every word, every sound you gave him in return.

He kissed lower.

And lower still.

Until his mouth reached the place between your legs, and your thighs trembled around his shoulders. His breath met the heat of you, his mouth hovering just long enough to make your skin tighten with anticipation. You felt the press of his thumbs spreading you gently apart, opening you to the slow glide of his tongue, the first careful pass of it dragging through your fold like he was mapping you—learning every part of your body with reverent intent.

Your hips jolted, a startled gasp slipping from your lips. But he only murmured against you. “Shh. Let me.”

And you did.

You let your head fall back into the pillow, legs open around him, your fingers fisting the sheets as he began in earnest.

Oberyn was deliberate. Thorough. A man who knew the art of pleasure not as conquest but devotion. His tongue was soft at first, teasing, coaxing your body into response—then firmer, more focused, flicking and curling just right, like he was reading your body’s cues in real time. When he found the spot that made your thighs quiver, he circled it slowly, the again, just a little harder, like he was testing how much you could take.

You whimpered, breath hitching as your spine arched. “Oberyn…”

The sound of his name on your lips made him groan low against you, and the vibration made you see stars.

One hand slipped beneath your thigh, lifting your leg over his shoulder, opening you further. The other rested on your stomach, grounding you. Holding you still. You could feel the calluses on his fingertips where they pressed to your skin, just above your navel—a firm reminder of his strength, of the quiet control beneath the tenderness.

When he sucked your clit into his mouth, gently at first, then with slow, rhythmic pressure, mouth relentless in purpose.

“You taste,” he rasped between strokes, “like the gods made you just for this.”

Your breath came in short, helpless pants. You were soaked, trembling. All the heat in your body had pooled between your legs, every nerve ending alight.

It built fast. Too fast. You didn’t know how to tell him you were close, how to warn him, but he already knew—he felt it in the way you moved, the way your thighs began to quake, the way your voice cracked when you tried to speak.

And he didn’t stop.

He held you in place with hands like silk-wrapped iron, tongue working you with wicked precision until the heat inside you snapped—your back bowed, mouth open in a silent cry as your high tore through you like a wave crashing on sand.

He stayed with you through it, mouth never leaving you, letting you ride it out, drawing every last tremor from your body until you were panting, boneless, shaking under him. When he finally pulled away, his lips were wet, his eyes bright with something between pride and awe. He kissed the inside of your thigh—once, twice—then moved up your body, slow and fluid, like a panther stalking something already his.

He kissed your lips again. You could taste yourself on his tongue, but you didn’t care.

He rested his forehead against yours for a moment, catching his breath. “You are,” he whispered, “everything I hoped you’d be.”

You blinked up at him, dazed. “You’ve… thought about this?”

He smiled against your mouth. “From the moment I first saw you.”

His cock pressed hot and hard against your thigh, and your fingers slid down instinctively, curling around him. He groaned into your neck, hips twitching into your hand.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured. “I’ll give you anything.” You looked into his eyes—dark, molten, full of promise. “Please,” you whispered, spreading your legs again beneath him. “I want you.”

He rose onto his knees between your thighs, gaze dragging slowly down the length of your body as if memorizing you all over again. His chest heaved with every breath, muscles carved in the amber glow of the candlelight. You watched his hand wrap around the thick length of his cock, his thumb smearing the bead of precum over the tip as he stroked himself once—twice—his eyes never leaving yours.

He wanted you to see him. To feel how much he wanted you.

Your thighs fell even wider beneath him, shameless now, your body pulsing with the aftershocks of your first orgasm, already greedy for more. Oberyn leaned over you again, his hips settling low, the heavy heat of him dragging along your slick folds. You both hissed at the contact.

He kissed you—slow, deep, his tongue stroking into your mouth in rhythm with the rock of his hips. You could feel the weight of him sliding through your wetness, teasing your entrance but never pushing in.

Not yet.

He grinned against your lips when you whined softly into his mouth. “So impatient,” he whispered. “I haven’t even given you what you really need.”

His hand slid between your bodies, guiding himself to your entrance, rubbing the thick head against your fluttering hole. Your breath caught, legs tightening around his waist.

“Breathe,” he murmured, mouth at your ear. “It’s going to be slow. You’ll feel every inch of me.”

And you did.

He pushed forward, the broad crown stretching you open in a slow, relentless glide that made your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth fall open around a broken moan. The stretch burned in the best way, just enough to remind you he was bigger than anyone you’d taken before—but you were so wet, so ready, your body welcomed him with trembling need.

“Gods,” he grunted, voice gravel and silk. “You’re so tight. Perfect. Fuck, look at you…”

You forced your eyes open, dizzy with the sensation of being filled, of his body inching deeper with every push of his hips. You looked down between you and saw the way your body took him, saw how far there was still to go. Your breath shuddered.

He stilled once he was fully seated inside you, hips flush with yours, the length of him throbbing deep in your core. His arms braced on either side of your head, his eyes drinking you in.

“You feel like heaven,” he whispered. “And you’re mine now, aren’t you?”

You nodded, unable to speak, your entire world reduced to the way he filled you—aching, stretching, claiming.

He began to move.

Slow, dragging thrusts that pulled almost all the way out before he pushed back in, making your toes curl, your hands claw at his back. He rolled his hips deliberately, angling each stroke to hit that perfect spot inside you, and when he found it, you gasped—hips jerking, nails digging patterns into his skin.

“There,” he rasped. “There it is.”

He set a rhythm that felt like worship, like he wasn’t just fucking you—he was learning you, reading your body with every pass of his hips, every cry and sigh he coaxed from your lips. His name fell from your mouth like a prayer.

The slick sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, obscene and beautiful, and he drank it in with the hunger of a man starved. His hands roamed over you—one tangled in your hair, the other gripping your thigh, pressing your leg up to open even further to him.

“You take me so well,” he groaned. “So deep. So fucking sweet around me.”

You could feel the edge building again—faster this time, hotter, your walls fluttering around him as he kept moving in and out of you with slow, devastating precision. He felt it too.

“Let go for me,” he whispered. “I want to feel you fall apart on my cock.”

Your head fell back with a cry, and then it crashed over you—your second high tearing through you with a force that made your vision go white. You clenched hard around him, your body seizing, helpless under the wave.

He swore under his breath, a litany of desperate, beautiful sounds as your orgasm milked him. His rhythm faltered, hips jerking, and he leaned into you, teeth grazing your neck.

“Do you want me to come inside you?” he asked, voice tight and desperate. “Want me to fill you up, make you mine?”

You nodded, gasping. “Yes—yes, Oberyn—please…”

With a ragged groan, he thrust once—twice more—and then spilled into you, thick and hot, his hips shuddering against yours as he buried himself as deep as he could go. He held there, panting against your neck, one hand fisting the sheet beside your head, the other cradling your thigh like he couldn’t bear to let go.

He stayed inside you for a while, the weight of his body a grounding warmth atop yours. His breath slowed gradually against your neck, the rise and fall of his chest finally settling, his lips soft against your skin. Neither of you spoke. Words would have felt too sharp in that moment.

Eventually, Oberyn moved—but only to shift beside you, his cock slipping out of you with a wet, aching drag that made you shudder. He hissed quietly, cupping your thigh, his palm warm as it slid along your skin. You winced slightly at the emptiness he left behind, the tender pulse between your legs, but he was there—already pulling you into his chest, already reaching for a nearby cloth to clean the mess between your thighs with careful, reverent strokes.

“I didn’t mean to break you,” he said, voice low, laced with amusement but tinged with something gentler. “But gods, you are perfect.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, letting yourself be held. “You didn’t,” you murmured. “Not broken. Just… undone.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. You felt it against your cheek, and it made your heart flutter more than you expected. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head—slow and sweet, a quiet contrast to how fiercely he had just taken you.

“I like you like this,” he said, fingers tracing your spine. “Soft and warm and stretched around me.”

Your face flushed, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you pressed closer, the intimacy of it all sinking deeper into your bones. You hadn’t expected this. Not from him. You’d thought he’d see you—just once—and then vanish like smoke. But here he was, tangled up with you in silken sheets, his hands gentle, his mouth tender, as though your body was something sacred.

“Are you always like this afterward?” you asked quietly, your fingers absently drawing circles on his chest.

He looked down at you, eyes dark but soft. “No,” he said simply. “Only when it matters.”

The answer silenced you.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, gaze lingering on your face. “You think I saw you by accident?” he asked. “You were sitting by the fountain with sun on your shoulders like a goddess. You looked back at me and didn’t look away. That was no accident.”

Your throat tightened. You hadn’t known what he saw in you—still weren’t sure—but the way he looked at you now, like he knew you, like he wanted you beyond the thrill of a night—it made something shift in your chest.

Oberyn pulled the blanket over your bodies, wrapping you in silk and warmth, His hand settled low on your stomach, possessive and gentle, as he kissed your temple.

“Sleep, sweet thing,” he murmured into your hair. “I’ll still be here in the morning.”

And you believed him.

Because in that moment—wrapped in his arms, his scent in your lungs, the weight of him still lingering inside you—you were no longer just a woman he’d seen today.

You were his.

[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 glass, 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!

[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.

[lis-likes-fics]

In Beauty

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x wife!Reader Word Count: 2.9k words Prompt: Breeding Warnings: NSFW, smut, breeding, creampie, multiple orgasms, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, swearing... A/N: I love this man, he's so scrumptious. Thank you and enjoy!

Your hand gently squeezes Oberyn’s arm as you walk beside him, the vendors on the street giving a bow of their heads as you tread through the busy market. You are surrounded by the people of Sunspear, fruits and vegetables and all kinds of goods everywhere you look beneath the blazing sun of Dorne.

You are happy with the sun as it warms your skin, the gold of your gown glowing under its light. Oberyn gazes at you, a smile on his face as he admires your beauty.

“I can feel you looking, my love,” you smile, guiding him toward a booth of oranges. You pick one up and smooth your thumb along the dimpled skin.

“How can I resist when you are as beautiful as the Dornish shores?” He kisses your temple, and you preen under his affection as you fish a coin from your purse and hand it to the vendor with a grateful smile.

Before you can even begin to peel it, he takes the fruit from your hand and pierces the skin with his thumb. You chuckle, looking up at his face and admiring the curve of his nose. “My husband, the poet.”

He laughs, discarding orange peels aside as he walks to feed the earth. “You flatter me, my dear.” He hands you an orange slice, and you take it gratefully. It bursts in your mouth, its juice rich and sweet.

You hum, “I tell only the truth.”

You hear the giggle of some kids as they run through the streets. A few people grumble as they bump into a few things along the way, but they care little, continuing to run wild.

Upon seeing you, their eyes widen in wonder and their faces split with awestruck smiles.

“Princess!” a tiny voice chirps, and the others join in the excitement as they rush over.

Boys and girls surround the two of you, laughing and gasping as they admire you. “Hello, princess!” “You are so beautiful!” “Move! I was here first!”

You laugh excitedly, bending down to pick up one of the girls. She has soft, curly hair and a button nose, with dark eyes that look brown in the sun. You set her on her hip, smiling as you look around at them.

“Look at how beautiful you all are!” You exclaim. She giggles, covering her face with her palm. “Are you behaving, my darlings?”

They all shout their agreements, nodding their heads. Oberyn steps aside to give you their attention, watching with stars in his eyes. Another girl holds out a tiny hand, clutching onto a pretty flower. “Here, princess!” she says. “For you!”

You gasp, taking the flower from her. “Thank you very much, lovely girl.” She giggles, holding her hands behind her back. You turn to the girl on your hip. “Would you be so kind and put this behind my ear?”

She does so gladly, taking the flower and setting it there with a slightly clumsy hand. She smiles widely. “So pretty,” she coos.

You tilt your head. “Oh, thank you. You know something?” She watches you imploringly. “You are so, so gorgeous, and I want you to remember that. Can you do that for me?”

She nods emphatically, her hair bouncing with each movement. “Yeah!”

“Good,” you hum, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Now all of you do me a favor, will you?” They all agree immediately.

“Each of you take one of these,” you reach for your purse, opening it and holding it out for them, “and go buy yourselves something really nice. Can you do that?”

They gasp as their eyes light up, happily reaching in and grabbing a coin with loud thanks and goodbyes. You set the girl on her feet, kissing her forehead before letting them all go with a wave.

Oberyn’s arm curls around your waist as you replace your purse. “You are quite good with them,” he muses, staring down at you lovingly. “The children always love you.”

You turn toward him, your hands on his as you smile. “Maybe one day one of our own will love me?” you quip, raising a teasing brow.

He chuckles. “My dear, I intend to have a litter of princes and princesses running around Dorne with your smile.”

You chuckle back to him, twirling out of his hold with your hands clasped together. You pull him gently along the path, your head high and your heart pounding.

“Well, it is never too early to start trying.”

~

Oberyn has your back against a wall in no time, tucked between your legs with one over his shoulder and the other struggling to hold yourself up. His hands stroke your thighs, pulling your hips closer to his mouth as you grab at his hair and his broad shoulders for something to hold onto.

“Oberyn,” you moan, your jaw twitching as it falls open in bliss. “You are so good.”

You can feel the curve of his smile against your folds, his tongue darting out to lick between them as he tastes the sweetness that leaks out of you. “That is it, my love,” he purrs against your cunt. “Tell me how good you feel...”

You grind your hips lightly into his face, not bothering to stifle any moans, especially in the comfort of your chambers. Your legs feel weak, like butter melting under the heat of his touch. His tongue delves inside of you as his nose nudges your pearl, needy and pulsing for more of him.

A breath catches in your throat. “Oh, fuck. Keep going.” He answers you with a flicking tongue at your sensitive pearl, licking and sucking and trying his best to pull you closer and closer to the precipice.

“Let me taste you,” he pleads, his voice strained as he continues to work at the pleasure coursing through you.

Your back arches and your hips buck against his mouth as the pleasure snaps like lightning, shocking your system as you gasp his name. He devours you, hungry for every part of you that you have to offer. His hands grip at your flesh as you shudder against him. You moan helplessly, his insistent licking driving you toward oversensitivity until your shudders are quick jerks that make pull his head back by his curls.

Oberyn paints you in loving kisses, all over your thighs and your knees and your folds as he waits for your eyes to crackle open once more to take him in. You look down at him, smiling hazily and running your fingers through his soft hair.

“You always enjoy that far too much, I think,” you chuckle, catching your breath still.

Oberyn presses a long kiss to the bend of your knee, standing to his feet and stroking your sides as he goes. “I do not believe that would be possible.” He envelopes you in a deep kiss, one full of passion and desire as he grabs at naked skin.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, breathing him in with a content sigh. You feel his hands dip down and brace yourself as he hoists you up with your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You smile, continuing to press kisses into any skin your lips can find.

He carries you away, only to lay you down on the bed. His body never leaves yours, pressed flush against you as you share in each other's heat. You taste his lips, humming and sighing as he loves on you, letting his warm hands roam your warm body until you feel pliant beneath him.

“How many were you considering for the first carry?” he whispers against your throat. With a gentle kiss, he smiles. “I was thinking two or three.”

You throw your head back into the plush bed, letting out a hearty laugh. Your hands wrap around the back of his neck and the muscle of his bicep. “Only one,” you insist. “The first will already tear me apart, I don't need to be torn twice as much.”

He kisses along your jaw, painting you in them and warming you from the inside out. “No matter,” he says. “Either way, I shall give you a Martell baby that will be as beautiful as you and I.” He slips a hand down your thigh, dipping between them as he drags a finger along your slit.

Your breath hitches, caught on his touch. His mouth parts as yours does, curving into a lustful grin that breaks off with another hum.

He curls them within you, pumping them slowly as your arousal gathers on his fingers. Your brows furrow, and he cannot help but to admire your beauty as you lay beneath him, eager to feel everything he has to offer.

“I hope you do not mind if I wish for it to take a few tries,” your words break off into a whimper as he retracts his fingers. He sets them between his lips, sucking them clean. “I would very much like to continue enjoying you for as long as possible.”

He lifts his head, dragging his hand to your hip and encouraging your leg around his waist. “Oh, my paramour,” he purrs, hissing through his teeth as he strokes his cock two slow times. “Do you really think a bigger belly will stop me from having you?”

You breathe in shakily as he slowly pushes his cock inside of you, filling you inch by glorious inch. Your head tips back, hands tangled in his hair. You relish in the feeling of the stretch, drunk on the feeling.

He rocks his hips slowly, staring at your face and watching the way it twists and shifts through your pleasure. “I intend on fucking you over and over and over again.” His voice is soft and soothing, but deep in his chest. You listen to him with breathless moans.

“Oberyn.”

“I will watch you grow round with my babe. I will watch this belly swell until you can do no more than sit all day.” His thrusts slowly increase in speed and strength, spurred on by his own words and his own thoughts. “I will continue to touch you, and taste you, and fuck you until the babe comes. And once you've healed, I will take you again and again until you are pregnant once more.”

By now, he's holding you still as he fucks into you. You are dizzy with pleasure, with racing thoughts all swarming with Oberyn and his intoxicating words. One of his hands plays over your belly as he thrusts into you with stifled grunts, the other holding you close to him as he watches you dissolve.

Your lips graze one another, too hazy to make full contact but too eager not to touch. You wrap your legs tightly around his waist and let him have his way with deep, fervid thrusts.

“Oh, my love,” you moan, back arching, fingers numbing. “Keep fucking me, put your child in me.”

His voice is deep, rougher now with the growing lust circling his throat. His thrusts are so deep that you see glistening stars behind your eyelids with each stroke. His hands continue to travel along your body, eager to hold you and to feel you and to enjoy the way you shudder and fall apart.

“I am going to breed this delicious cunt,” he promises. His words drop lower, a darker intent that has gooseflesh rising along your skin. “I am going to fill your womb with my cum and keep fucking it into you to ensure you become pregnant with our child.”

His thrusts are faster, filling the air with slick sounds made of the intense smacks of skin against skin. You hold him close and moan in the short space between you, nearly choking every time he drives his cock so far into you that you feel like you can no longer breathe. His hands caress your skin, groping your breast just to roll and flick your nipple between eager fingers.

You are breathless, struggling to keep up as the pleasure swarms in your head and in your bones, coursing through your veins until you feel like the sandy beaches of Dorne, letting the tides lap over you in large, consuming sweeps.

Oberyn lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder, the other following quickly before pressing his thumb to your clit. The new angle allows him to go deeper, the blunt head of his cock punching against a place that makes your lips part, open moans flooding the air.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp. “S-so deep, so good.”

He leans down, essentially folding your body in half. He gathers your wrists in one hand and lifts them over your head. “Take it, my love. Take it all for me,” he rasps.

You flutter around him as he coaxes you closer and closer to this blissful high. Your hips buck into him, meeting his thrusts with an eagerness that matches his rhythm, which slowly becomes less and less nuanced as he gets closer to reaching his own high.

Your lips form an “O”, and he watches your eyes screw shut, watches your body arch and your brows pinch. He leans farther down, his lips hovering over yours.

“Look at me,” he says, a quiet purr upon your skin. “I want you to see me when you come apart. I want you to see me as I fill you so full of my cum that it leaks down your legs when you walk the streets of Dorne, so everyone knows that you are mine and I am yours.”

His words are sending you into a frenzy. You can hardly think straight as you imagine it—him holding you close, dressed as a royal, skin bathing in the sunlight as the people around you bow down while his seed leaks from your womb.

“Oberyn,” you moan, your lashes fluttering as you struggle to keep your eyes open. He is so beautiful, especially like this: with flushed skin and parted lips and lust-blown eyes. “So close. I’m so close.”

“Keep watching me, darling. Keep looking me in the eyes,” he huffs. He lets go of your wrists in favor of brushing his fingertips along your jaw as his thumb keeps circling your clit, tightening that knot in your belly so ready to snap.

It catches you by surprise—which catches him by surprise. You gasp, your lips parting in a wide shape as you stare into the depths of his eyes. He breathes in with you, mirroring your desire with all the love included. The pleasure is a rolling tidal wave that drowns you in ecstasy until you cry out.

His hips stutter as they fuck into you with a few last thrusts, filling you to the brim with his love for you. “Perfect.” His voice is strained, heightened by a pitch or two as the bliss chokes him. He pumps you full, the warmth spreading through your body until all you know is heat.

He mutters something or another under his breath, caught on the moment and the pleasure as you both ride your eyes together with the occasional sloppy kiss, breathing each other's air and sharing each other's desires.

Your body aches and shudders as you finally come down, the clenching and the tightening and the crashing settling into something bearable. You lay against the bed, finally noticing the sheen of sweat coating your flesh and his as you continue to soak in the other's heat.

He stays inside you, letting your legs off his shoulders and easing them instead around his waist. He leans some of his weight on you, a comfortable amount that has you sighing longingly and limply holding him close.

When you tilt your head tiredly, he guides it back. “No, no, keep looking at me. I want you to remember this.” His voice is soft, a loving lull as he smiles down at you. “I want you to remember the moment we made our first child. How good it felt,” he presses a kiss to your collarbone, “how close we were,” he kisses your neck, “how well you did for me,” a gentle, slow kiss to your lips, “how much I love you.”

You smile lazily, pulling him back in for another long kiss. If he focuses hard enough, he can still faintly taste the orange on your tongue. “I love you, my heart,” you whisper against his lips, giving another chaste kiss.

He hums, finally, reluctantly pulling out of your sopping cunt with a sigh. He eases onto his side wrapping his arms around you. “You must stay in your back a little while longer, my dear,” he says. He pulls you close to him, nuzzling into your neck as his nose presses into your shoulder.

You hum. “It still might take a few tries,” you whisper. “We must be certain it has taken root...” You smirk over at him, raising a tired hand to push a lock of dark hair from his forehead.

His hand falls to your belly, his thumb stroking lightly. He smiles when you clasps your hands together, holding them there and staring at each other like the world no longer exists outside of the other.

“Believe me,” he says, “we will not stop trying even after our maesters know for certain that you hold a babe in your beautiful belly.”

Your smile is almost as devious as his. “Oh, well… If it must be done.” Your noses nudge before joining him in another kiss.

Pedro Pascal taglist: @watercolorskyy @queermaxwooo @papichulo120627 @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @minigirl87 @notzammm @motopoppp @lover-of-books-and-tea @feyresqueen @quickslvxrr @hc-geralt-23 Ice and Fire taglist: @divinearchangel @alexxavicry @katsukis1wife @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @lover-of-books-and-tea @avalyaaa @rozendiors @seabasscevans @hc-geralt-23

[pedgito]

march is over and we're heading into tlou season which i am awaiting with too much anxiety, energy has been so low over here but i've been attempting to read on nights when i have some time. as expected, lots of pedro characters but a few additional blorbos that i've been obsessed with lately.

this key will help you figure out which fics are more your vibe, or if you’re just curious of the contents before you dive in:

smut = 🌶️, fluff = ☁️ angst = ☄️

total fics listed below: 24

✎ — 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

↝ a love so fine by @joelsdagger — ☁️, 🌶️

An evening in with your husband helps to quiet the brain noise. 

↝ little lamb by @chaotic-mystery — ☁️, 🌶️

You and Joel decide on the future of you two when he sees how well you mother the lambs.

↝ in the soft light of morning by @eupheme — ☁️, 🌶️

In the morning hours like this, the promise of spring slipping through the cracks of the curtains, it’s enough to almost make him forget. Tucking away everything he’s done, forcing it back down his throat and locking it away. Here, he’s just a man.

↝ brighter times by @gutsby — 🌶️ (DDDNE, noncon)

You’ve always been Joel’s favorite. Always.

↝ stranded by @pedroscurls — 🌶️ (DDDNE, dubcon)

Your car breaks down on the side of the road and a stranger decides to help you out...and you have no choice but to accept his help.

↝ be quiet, or i'll make you by @tobeholyistobeempty — 🌶️

The world ended in disaster. You’ve lived with that knowledge for years now, and you think you’ve finally come to terms with the kind of things you’ll get from it. Pain. Loss. Destruction. The same chaos, day in day out, just in different forms. You know that at this point you’ll be lucky if you survive until tomorrow; so you take it in stride.

↝ orange colored sky by @/eupheme — ☁️, 🌶️

A soft summer weekend is spent at the lake with Joel and his family

↝ nice and slow by @joelsknees — 🌶️

A quiet horny morning with Joel. Send tweet.

✎ — 𝐉𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐀

↝ the raid (+ steve murphy) by @toxicanonymity — 🌶️ (DDDNE)

A DEA agent finds you on a drug raid, and he and his partner take you home with them. They keep you locked up and make some changes in your life, starting with getting you off drugs. They share you and have sexual tension (at the least) with each other. You happen to enjoy them... But it can't stay like this forever, can it?

↝ that won't ever be me, bebita by @iknowisoundcrazy — ☄️

Javi and Steve go missing. With los pepes at large, you and Connie wait up and worry for your loves.

↝ the morning commute by @/iknowisoundcrazy — ☄️

In the midst of Escobar’s desperate war for control in Colombia, your morning commute is disrupted when you find yourself tangled up in his latest bomb threat.

✎ — 𝐄𝐙𝐑𝐀 (𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓)

↝ like family by @max--phillips — 🌶️

Ezra had entertained dozens of your fantasies and helped you indulge in kinks you’d never even fathomed before meeting him. You trusted him implicitly, with your body, mind, and soul. You could tell him anything, and he’d take it in stride. He’d never judge you or shame you (unless that was the agreed upon point of the scene, of course). He was older than you, more experienced; he’d seen everything and then some. The stories he told are part of what drew you to him initially. Despite all this, it did not stop the panicked fear of rejection from flooding you with one accidental slip of the tongue.

↝ more by @moonlitbirdie — 🌶️ (read on ao3, DDDNE)

You want Ezra to take you while you’re asleep.

✎ — 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊

↝ keep driving by @thundermartini — 🌶️ (DDDNE, dubcon)

An unexpected stop in the middle of nowhere for an investigation on a Halloween Festival leads to the scariest encounter of your life.

↝ because of you by @almostempty — 🌶️ (DDDNE, noncon)

You reveal at a party that you've never cried during sex, but Dave is going to fix that for you.

↝ good kitty by @sizzlingcloudmentality — 🌶️

Dave wants a cat but ends up with you. his favorite thing to do? letting the kitty drink fresh cream.

keystrokes by @mothandpidgeon — 🌶️ (DDDNE, noncon/dubcon)

You hacked into Dave Yorks computer and found more secrets than you bargained for.

✎ — 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

↝ forbidden fruit by @/cavillscurls — 🌶️

Upon his return to Dorne, you give your husband a warm welcome.

✎ — 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐓 (𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒)

↝ inescapable by @cavillscurls — 🌶️ (DDDNE, dubcon)

Clint always gets what he wants—this time, you’re going to give it to him.

✎ — 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐎

↝ don't give up on me by @punkshort — ☄️, 🌶️

Should you give up on the man you love when he disappoints you, or do you give him another chance?

↝ 30,000 feet by @yxtkiwiyxt

You meet a handsome stranger on a flight.

✎ — 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

↝ miss possessive (+ gareth emerson) by @gracieheartspedro ��� 🌶️

You cannot help but be possessive over your boyfriends...wait no, boyfriend. Just your boyfriend. Not his best friend.

✎ — 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐊

↝ when he's the neighbour by @jolapeno — ☁️, 🌶️

Matt hears you through the wall.

✎ — 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇

↝ late night visits by @stellamarielu — 🌶️

Somehow your neighbor is always finding himself at your front door hoping to find relief through casual hookups, but you both can’t deny your feelings any longer.

likes, reblogs, and comments keep the motivation alive, so if you’re taking a look at these for the first time, please leave a kind word for these writers or just reblog, even. support your writers <3

[perotovar]

one last wish — oneshot

pairing: oberyn martell x gn!reader (reader is a blank canvas) rating: T content: fluff, angst, post-coital word count: 874 dividers: @saradika-graphics beta: @for-a-longlongtime (ily)

summary: it's the morning that oberyn leaves for king's landing. you're one of his favorite bed partners and you don't want him to leave, but he promises to return to you...

a/n: written as a part of @chaotic-mystery 's WIRED 4 YOU challenge! my song was DYWTYLM by Sleep Token and the prompt was "angst" so i hope i delivered! ♥ i hope you enjoy! also this is my first time writing for our prince!! 🫣

masterlist | fic notifs

Oberyn was beautiful like this.

It was early morning in Sunspear and the rays of sun painted the prince's naked body like a canvas. A light sheen of sweat covered his golden skin, making you lick your lips without thinking.

The two of you had been up late, as was normal whenever you came to visit him. But last night felt differently. He just wanted you all to himself, saying that he would miss you most of all his lovers. Of course Ellaria would be accompanying him on his trip, so you didn't think to question the validity of that.

You'd spent countless nights with him, getting to know the prince and his other lovers. He always made you feel good, better than anyone else you'd slept with, and treated you with respect. Being a bastard in Dorne was better than being a bastard anywhere else, you knew, but you were still a bastard. There was a station difference between the two of you and it made you wish things were different.

"You're staring," Oberyn hummed, a small smile on his handsome face. His eyes were closed still, his breathing even and calm.

Your cheeks warmed at being caught, but it made you smile too. "Do you blame me?"

Oberyn snorted and slowly opened his eyes, those gorgeous pools of umber catching your gaze easily. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand as he turned onto his side, getting comfy. He didn't bother covering his naked body and neither did you, both of you quite content to let the soft linen and smooth satin of the sheets brush against your bare skin. "No, I don't suppose I do," he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"Must you go to King's Landing, my prince?" You asked softly, turning your own body to face his. You frowned as you watched his face change from one of peace to one of seriousness.

"I'm afraid so, my darling," he sighed, turning away to sit up on the bed. His legs hung over the large mattress as he stretched, his back cracking in the process. You crawled over to him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind. You kissed along his broad shoulders and the back of his neck, silently apologizing for bringing it up, but you had to know. "I made a promise to my brother, you know that."

"I know," you sighed and rested your chin on his shoulder. The palms of your hands rested on his chest where you could feel his sturdy heartbeat beneath. "I wish I could come with," you mumbled.

Oberyn turned in your arms and cupped your face in his large hands. "No," he frowned. "I don't wish to taint you with that shitpile of a city." You laughed, cheeks warming again. "I mean it! I hate it there, and I'd hate for you to leave Dorne. Besides," he smiled. "I want something lovely to come home to, hm?"

Your heart fluttered in your chest when he leaned forward to kiss you, those plump lips of his making you lose your train of thought for a moment. Both of you stayed like that for a bit, kissing softly, but eventually had to come up for air. Oberyn pressed his forehead to yours and breathed you in.

"Alright," you hummed, deep in thought. “My prince,” you started. He looked you in the eye, listening intently. “Do… Do you ever wish that… you loved me?”

Oberyn furrowed his brows. “My darling, what do you mean?”

Your cheeks throbbed in embarrassment. “I just mean… I wonder if we were… lovers, like you and Ellaria, then,” you gulped, not making eye contact with him. “It’s silly,” you shook your head, brushing it off.

Oberyn sighed, brows pinched in concern. “What Ellaria and I have is unique, that is true. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think of you any less than her, my love,” he said gently. 

That made you feel a little better. There was a small part of you that doubted his words, like he was just saying them to calm you down. But deeper than that, you knew, Oberyn wouldn’t lie to you. He never had. 

"Now, I'd like one more round with you, my sweet," Oberyn grinned. "Just to have something to hold me over. I don't imagine the whores in King's Landing will ever hold a candle to you, but I've got a vivid memory," he winked.

Oberyn always had a way with words, and it made you laugh and lightly slap his chest. He looked at you with mock hurt and tackled you to the bed, kissing and nipping along your chest and neck. He tickled you along your sides. Your chest and sides hurt with how hard you were laughing, and when you came down from that high, you looked up at Oberyn's handsome face.

There was a calmness that settled over the both of you as you caught your breath. You reached up to cup his face in your hand. "Come back to me?" You whispered.

"Of course," he said back, eyes full of determination and passion. 

There was a part of you that couldn't shake an uneasiness in his words, but you believed him.

[absurdthirst]

A Mafia Marriage {Mafia!Oberyn Martell x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16k

Warnings: Modern AU, Mafia AU, arranged marriage, contract marriage, harsh feelings, cancer, verbal sparring, impetuousness, Oberyn is volatile, threats, violence, rough sex, harshness, dominant sex, unprotected sex, loss, death, grief, foursomes, wlw, mlm, oral (male and female receiving), group sex

Comments: Having worked for the notorious mafia family, the Martells, your mother is very sick and you are running out of hope. Until you are summoned by Doran Martell. He will pay for the best treatments and the finest doctors in exchange for one thing. Marrying his brother, Oberyn Martell.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Oberyn Martell MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The Martells are the most powerful family in the city of Dorne. The ability to ruin lives or enhance them with the power, control and wealth they have is immense. They control everything. Nothing happens in their city that they don’t know about and most would never dream of trying to cross the mafia family. The last time that happened, Elia Martell had been killed by the Lannisters and it had sparked a rivalry war that still causes tensions to this day. 

Loyalty means everything to them. Your mother has worked for them your entire life and because of that, you were exposed to things most were not. Living in Sunspear, the large looming tower that the Martell family had built as a symbol of their status. Now, that life is in jeopardy, your mother is sick and you have been summoned by Doran Martell to discuss her condition. 

“Come in, sweet one.” Doran ushers you in with a wave of his hand and you walk in. He gestures to the large chair on the opposite side of his desk and you sit down, wringing your hands together. “How is your mother?” He asks and you bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from crying. 

“She’s good. She’s - she’s not good.” You choke out, tears stinging in your eyes. “She’s- she’s really sick. Stage four breast cancer and we - we don’t have enough money to get her treatment. She has insurance but it’s not enough. They said they’d make her comfortable but we want to fight it.” You reveal, closing your eyes in pain.

Doran knew that the prognosis isn’t good, he’s spoken with her doctors and they believe that the best course of treatment was to keep her comfortable. She has less than six months to live. He taps his desk as he watches you, leaning forward to pull his handkerchief out of his breast pocket and offers it to you. “Then you must fight it.” He decides, knowing that it will be to his advantage to offer this to you. “Your mother has been a loyal member of our household for many years. We will cover the costs of her treatment and care. Hiring the best doctors and nurses.” He pauses. “If you will do me one favor.” Your eyes open, full of hope, ready to do anything and he delivers his demand. “You must marry Oberyn.”

You stare at him in shock for several moments before you laugh, your head shaking as you think about Oberyn Martell being married. The man is infamous for his liaisons with men and women across Dorne. He doesn’t want to settle down and you certainly don’t want to marry a man who can’t keep it in his pants for more than a day. “I don’t want - no. I don’t - why me? He is with Ellaria.”

“Ellaria has no interest in taming some of Oberyn’s….wilder proclivities.” Doran hums. “My brother is quick to fight, easily goaded and offended. You…you are sweet. Gentle.” He presses his finger tips together with his elbows on his desk. “You can temper that nature, I know you can.” You look doubtful, but he knows his brother and despite his insistence that he would never settle down, he would with you. “Marry my brother and your mother will have everything she needs and more. Hopefully to live a long and healthy life. If unsuccessful, you will have the security of being a Martell. Having our family to lean on.” 

You should say no. You should storm out and tell Doran you’d never marry his brother even if your life depended on it. But it’s not your life that depends on it. It’s your mother’s. You swallow harshly and nod, “fine. I’ll marry him. Does he - does he know?” You ask, curious if the man knows about this arrangement. Doran smiles, “he’s fully on board.”

****

“What the fuck are you thinking? Marrying me to that - to that mouse.” Oberyn growls at his brother when he storms into his office. Doran sighs and taps his fingers on his desk, “Oberyn…you need to calm down.”

“Absolutely not. I told you I was never marrying.” Oberyn reminds his brother, temper flashing in his dark eyes, making his swarthy complexion even deeper. The grey that is starting to thread through his hair doesn’t distract from his attractive, yet harsh, features and Oberyn still fights and fucks like a man half his age. Doran sighs. “As head of this family, I have the right to demand you marry, anyone I choose, remember?” He shrugs slightly. “I choose her and you will do it.”

“You want me to continue doing your dirty work? My dear brother, never getting his hands bloody. I do all the hard work. Killing who you order since you cannot. Yet you sit behind that desk and order me to marry a woman I don't want. She’s a mouse. She’s - she’s boring.” Oberyn growls and Doran shakes his head, “she will calm you. She will be good for you. If you do not marry her…I will disinherit you. No properties. No cars. No money. You’ll be out in the cold. You’re volatile. We cannot afford another war with the Lannisters, yet every day you take us closer to it.”

Oberyn hisses angrily at his brother, knowing that he could call his bluff, but the risk to his daughters would be too great. The Sand Snakes do not deserve to have their lives upended. “Marriage will not change me, brother.” He snorts, waving his hand dismissively. “Arrange the affair, the poor girl will be bored out of her mind as I continue to do exactly what I wish.” He turns around and strides from the room confidently as he gets the last word.

Doran shakes his head, knowing his brother is a hard nut to crack but he will try. He wants his brother to settle down before he takes over when Doran steps down. After the car accident, Doran ended up in a wheelchair and he knows he will not be able to lead the family when his body fails him.

****

“Don’t worry, mom.” Holding her hand, you rub the back of it gently, wondering if it’s just your imagination that her skin feels brittle. “Doran has agreed to pay for all the treatments.” You smile, hiding the anguish that you are feeling. This is for your mother, no price is too high. “You are going to have the finest doctors and nurses in Dorne treating you and you will be cured in no time.” Her weak smile is worth it. Reaching out with your other hand, you pull the covers up her body, knowing that she is cold and turning up the heat by another notch. She is cold all the time and luckily you don’t live in the north, Winterfel would be miserable for her. You squeeze her hand gently. “See? I told you that we shouldn’t give up.” 

Oberyn seethes as he watches Ellaria dance with a few other women on stage. His lover doesn’t know the news that he’s getting married yet and he plans to keep it that way. The ice in his glass of whiskey clinks as he grips it in his hand and he hates that he’s being forced into marriage. He vowed to never marry after his sister was killed because she married into another mafia family. The Lannisters killed her. He just can’t prove it. He sighs and Ellaria comes over, climbing into his lap to press her lips to his, “come on lover. Watch up. You rented this private booth for your enjoyment.” She reminds him as the rest of the club goers squeeze in below. 

**** 

You feel overwhelmed. Watching the wedding planner as he pulls out the linen options and cake options and you don’t even care. You’re being bought to marry a Martell and you don’t want to pretend like this wedding is of your own volition. “Where is the groom?” The planner asks and you bite your lip, “he’s-” Oberyn cuts you off with “right here” as he strides into the room with a cigar in hand, his orange shirt half unbuttoned and you hate how attractive he looks.

Awakening before noon is a rarity for Oberyn and despite the late night, he is finding himself to be enjoying the shocked look on your face when he strolls into the room. “Apologies for being late, you know how I hate to drag myself away from my….activities.” He quirks a brow and smirks as he eyes the wedding planner. “You should know that all colors will be Martell colors.” He tuts. “No need to pick anything else. After all, she is marrying into the most powerful family around.” 

You bite your lip to smother your scoff as his cockiness. You shake your head and look down at the plans, the colors you picked are obsolete now that orange and gold have been chosen by him. “What else would you like to have, darling?” You ask sarcastically. You know Oberyn. Your mother works for them so you’ve grown up with the family, watching Doran take over, have the accident, then Oberyn whoring around, killing anyone who dares to look at him the wrong way.

“Wine, lots of wine.” He snorts, tapping his chin as he pretends to contemplate the question even though it’s obvious you would rather he leave. “Perhaps some contortionists and burlesque dancers for the reception?” He knows that will offend your prudish sensibilities and maybe even make you mad enough to call off the wedding. If you refuse to go through with it, Doran cannot complain. 

You clench your jaw, you know what he's trying to get to you to do and you won’t let him. You need to make sure your mom gets treatment. You won’t allow him to ruin this. When your mom is better, you’ll divorce him and he can have his life back. “Whatever you want.” You hum, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of you arguing. “Perhaps we can have a vanilla wedding cake?” You suggest, wanting something simple and you know that’s your mom’s favorite.

Vanilla. Boring. Just like you seem to be. Oberyn rolls his eyes but he’s nodding. “The cake can be whatever you want it to be.” He promises, making it seem like he is being generous. “I also want cupcakes of every flavor.” He smirks at the wedding planner and sends him a small wink. “I like variety.”

You can’t refrain from rolling your eyes this time. “Yeah. Cupcakes. Every flavor. Of course, vanilla isn’t enough for him.” You tell the planner who glances between the two of you. You are struggling to even get through this but you will. Oberyn looks at the table layout and quickly moves people around, a glint in his eye and he frowns after a moment, “Ellaria needs a table.” He declares and you inhale sharply, unable to believe he has the audacity to invite his lover to your wedding. “She’s - I didn’t think- it’s a family affair.” You remind him and he scoffs, “she is family.” You sigh, reminded that he cares little for loyalty and a monogamous relationship.  You remember a few years ago the Martells were throwing a party for Doran and your mother was invited and you joined her. You overheard Oberyn proudly telling his friends that he could fuck who he wanted. Marriage was a ball and chain and he refused to be tamed. He wanted freedom to fuck who he wants. He also went on to say he hated women who didn’t know what they wanted from sex. Women who were timid or shy. That made you roll your eyes and stride off to search for a glass of champagne. Since you were a little girl, all you ever wanted was a loving relationship. A man who loved you and was loyal to you, dedicated and caring. Now, you’re marrying a man who couldn’t give a shit about you.

Oberyn is surprised that you aren’t pitching a fit, sure that you would be insulted. “Fantastic.” He murmurs, leaning close to unsettle you and he’s struck by how sensual your perfume is. He is not a man who restrains himself often, so he presses his lips to your pulse in a gesture that anyone else would find loving and intimate. “You and I will get along well, my sweet little Dove.” He coos in your ear. 

You resist the urge to shiver and recoil as he backs away and you want to slap him for kissing you. You don’t know what Doran coerced him with to marry you but it’s obvious he has no plans to change his lifestyle and you don’t care. You just want to give your mother a chance, if there is any hope of her beating the cancer. You won’t let Oberyn ruin this. You need to do this for your mom’s sake. “Whatever you want, baby.” You coo, reaching up to caress his cheek and the wedding planner smiles, “you make such a beautiful couple.” You lower your hand and thank him. “Let’s discuss the outfits. I have you booked to go wedding dress shopping on Saturday. Oberyn, you will have your tailor work on your suit?”

He hums, knowing that Doran will want him to have a new suit made for the event. “Do you want something traditional or bold and daring?” He asks, arching a brow at you and smirking. 

“Traditional.” You tell him, not wanting to look like you’re in Vogue even though you literally will be in Vogue with the man beside you. He looks disappointed with your answer but you don’t care. This isn’t a runway event, it’s a wedding. “Black tie it is.” Oberyn nods, although he will sneak in some orange and gold. The wedding planner makes some notes and claps, “very well. We have everything we need to get this wedding going. T-minus twenty days. I’ve never planned a wedding so fast.” He confesses, almost wondering why he needs to plan it so fast. His eyes drop down to your stomach but there’s no indication that you are pregnant. He had been told about your mother so that could be why it’s being planned so fast.

“I want my daughters there.” Oberyn tells you. “In the wedding or not, I will dance with each one at the reception.” He has eight daughters, eight bastards that he publicly and proudly claims as his own. He is a doting father and his own wedding will be no exception. “I don’t suppose you have decided on a ring yet, have you Dove?”

You know that Oberyn has lived many lives before you met him. You sigh and shake your head, “I don’t expect a ring. You know what this is.” You murmur, not wanting to take more than what you need for your mother. You need to help her and you don’t want the Martell money to wear on your finger as a reminder of your situation.

The wedding planner is not standing next to you, but Oberyn is offended. “Whatever this might be, you will have a ring.” He will not have someone talk about his lack of care for his bride, even if he does not wish to get married. “I will have the jeweler come tonight with a selection of rings for you to choose from.” He informs you. “Pick what you will like from them.”

You scoff, "how romantic." You roll your eyes and watch the planner gather his things while Oberyn is next to you. You hate how he seems to loom over you, his aura overwhelming you. He's always been that way. You look down at your bare left hand and try to envision his ring on your finger but it feels foreign and wrong.

“It is better than picking some monstrosity you hate.” He snorts. “I don’t think that you would like my taste in jewelry, you don’t seem to like my taste in anything, Dove.” Now that he’s seen your reaction to this, he feels that you are no more happy about the situation than he is. “Or are you hoping that your innocence will intrigue me?”

You snort, "I don't want to intrigue you. You are indulgent, quick to kill, and ostentatious. I am not. I have never killed. I have never been - been promiscuous. We are worlds apart and this marriage is for us to get what we want." You declare, knowing he would never marry you if it weren't for his brother.

“What I want?” He snorts, oddly insulted by your description of him even though you aren’t wrong. “Believe me, there is nothing in this arrangement that I want.”

His words sting even though you aren't remotely interested in a relationship with him but you don't want to show him how his words hurt. You stiffen and look at him, ignoring the way his dark eyes seem to burn into you. "The only thing I want is for my mother to live. I'll do whatever it takes to save her. Even marry you." You hiss and stride off, the wedding planning finished and you want to get home and pretend for a while that this isn't happening.

Oberyn watches you go, a frown creasing his brow and he has to admit that he admires that. You don’t want him, that’s obvious. You aren’t a good actress and he wouldn’t have believed you if you tried to seduce him. He pulls out his phone and calls his brother, even if the man is still in the same house he is. “Doran….tell me about the mother.” He demands.

**** 

You stare at yourself in the mirror, almost confused by the person looking back at you, and you don't recognize the woman standing there in the white dress. A bride. You look like a bride and you glance back at the iPad where your mom is on there watching you try on dresses. She was confused when you told her you were marrying Oberyn when you had been vocally disapproving of him. "You look beautiful, baby." She coos and you smile, tears stinging in your eyes as you wish you were marrying someone you loved instead of Oberyn.

“This is a beautiful choice.” The sales woman had been very attentive when she learned whose bride you are. The announcement had been made in the papers and on all the major Dornish networks two days ago. She knows that no expense will be spared on the Martell wedding and that means a hefty commission for her. “Would you like to try the shoes you picked out?”

You nod, chest feeling tight at how real this is starting to feel. You inhale shakily, watching the associate go to fetch the shoes and you lift your dress to try on the shoes that cost more than you’d spend in shoes in a lifetime. You turn to face the iPad again and your mom grins, clapping her hands and you hate how frail she looks. “Beautiful. Beautiful.” She grins and you offer her a weak smile.

“Oh I am so happy that I will get to be there for this.” She tells you, having feared the worst when her diagnosis was terminal. “The new doctors have been wonderful, they assure me that their treatment course has a better prognosis than before.” She beams tiredly through the camera. “Perhaps there will be grandchildren soon to help bolster my strength.”

You nod, swallowing down the hope that your mom could get better. She could beat this. She doesn’t know that this is fake. You told her that you fell hard and fast for Oberyn and he wanted to marry you before anything happened to your mom. She bought the story, the drugs clouding her judgment and you are grateful you can give her this happiness. You sigh and brush down the dress, looking at yourself in the mirror. You never imagined you’d be marrying for money but here you are. If your mom lives, it’s worth every second of misery being married to a man who can’t keep it in his pants.

“This arrived to the store for you.” The assistant brings over a box that is plain and sturdy. Obviously old. You frown slightly and take the small card that is with it and flip it open. “Dove, this veil has been worn by Martell women for over two hundred years. Wear it well. Oberyn.” There is no sentiment behind the words, but the thoughtfulness of it surprises you. Opening the box to find a stunning antique place veil that has small yellow and orange suns delicately embroidered around the edges of the throat length overlay and the twenty foot train. It’s an heirloom piece and absolutely stunning.

The sales associate comes over and gasps at the veil. “The last woman to wear this was Elia.” She reminds you of the last Martell woman who was killed by the Mountain on the order of the Lannisters. A man who still walks the earth today by some miracle because Oberyn has been very vocal about killing him. She carefully removes the veil from the box and secures it on your head. It’s so delicate but combined with the dress, you look like a princess. “Oh my God.” You choke as your mother says the same words but as a tearful coo. “You look beautiful. Like a Martell.” She cries happily and you stare at yourself in the mirror. A Martell. This is real. You’re marrying a man you do not love. You carefully touch the veil and take a moment until you turn to the sales associate and tell her you’re going to take the dress. It’s ridiculously expensive but Oberyn already has told the shop to let you buy whatever you want. You say goodbye to your mom and shut the iPad after you change into your clothes and you head back to your apartment to find it being packed up. “What the hell is this?” You ask the moving man who shrugs, “moving you into your new place with your hubby to be, sweet cheeks.” He declares and you clench your jaw. You knew you’d be moving in with Oberyn to keep up appearances but not so soon.

The man watching over the packing pushes off the counter where he was leaning against it as he eats a bowl of berries from your refrigerator and saunters over towards you. “Don’t worry, they won’t break anything.” He promises. He is Oberyn’s right hand man, handsome and just as quick to violence as the man Dorne had labeled the ‘Red Viper’ and ‘the Prince of Dorne’ due to his second in command status. This made Dario third in command in his mind. “Although maybe you should invest in some lingerie to entice Oberyn.” He suggests with a smirk. “The drawer is a little….bland.”

You narrow your eyes, hating that Dario has looked through your underwear drawer. Hating that your life is being moved because of Oberyn. "I don't think I'll be enticing Oberyn at all. This is - you know what this is." You hiss at the cocky man who smirks as he stands in your kitchen. "I do. Which means you better make it worth his while since he's marrying you to save your mother." He hums, reaching out to cup your cheek and you jerk your head from his touch. "Shame as well. You're a pretty one. Stuck up but nothing a bit of anal wouldn't change." He chuckles and you wrinkle your nose, "you're disgusting." You scoff and turn to make sure the movers aren't damaging anything.

**** 

“Lover, where do you expect her to stay?” Ellaria’s body stretches out across the settee, head back as she tilts her head up to look into her lover’s eyes. Her smile is almost secretive, as if she knows something that Oberyn does not. She might, she’s been with the man for over a decade, birthed four of his children and has no issue sharing him with whomever catches his fancy. Oberyn huffs and shakes his head. “There are plenty of rooms. She can take up an entire floor for all I care, but she will live in Sunspear.” Doran had made it clear that you would be his wife and he would treat you accordingly. It was why he had sent the veil over to the dress shop. It was important you wear it. To show all of Dorne that you are his, a Martell.

You glance around the place you’ve been moved to. It’s beautiful and you look out across Dorne to the sea, blue and glistening under the hot sun. You sigh and inhale deeply now that the movers have left and unpacked. You didn’t need to lift a finger and you wonder if that is how the Martell’s live. Rich and famous for all the wrong reasons, you wonder what your life will become. Your mom is in the hospital, a private wing paid for by Doran and a reminder of your agreement. You don’t hear the door behind you open until Oberyn’s “hello” reaches your ears and you sigh, turning to look at your husband-to-be. He looks disheveled and it annoys you to no end that he looks hot yet you can tell he’s been with his lover. “I didn’t expect you to return.” You confess, “figured you’d be with your lover until the weddings

Oberyn smirks slightly at the comment. “You are not as innocent as you look.” He hums, walking farther into the room and picking up a crystal figurine that you have sitting on a table. “It is comfortable, no? You have everything you need?”

You nod, “it’s beautiful here.” You look out the window again, “I see why you are so…you. Being gifted this beautiful life.” You murmur, turning back to look at him as he sets the crystal down. “I know you are with Ellaria. I don’t - should we say I know about it or should we say it’s over?” You ask, wanting to know to react if you’re asked about it.

He arches a brow at the surprisingly mature take. He had expected you to make a snide comment about his lover of many years. “You can say what you wish. Even tell people she is your lover.” He chuckles, not even able to imagine that, although Ellaria thinks you are very appealing in a virginal way. “She would not mind.”

You roll your eyes, knowing this is a woman he has children with. “Come now, people won’t believe I am her lover. I need - I’ll tell people it’s an open relationship. Easiest way since you're unlikely to become monogamous.” You huff and walk over to the fridge to take a bottle of water out. “I don’t know what you get from this arrangement apart from annoying me at every turn.”

Oberyn snorts. “Perhaps I like to annoy you.” He muses, wondering how you are to temper his impulses when you can’t stand him. “You are free to have whatever lovers you wish.” Your mouth drops open in shock and he holds up a finger to silence you. “Two rules. No bastards and you don’t fuck my men.”

You think about Dario, how he eyed you, and you bite your lip, wondering if you can rile your fiancé up. “I can promise no bastards.” Which makes you chuckle internally considering he has eight daughters out of wedlock. “For your men…I don’t know if I can promise that.” You hum vaguely, liking the way he clenches his jaw.

Fury heats his veins and he is moving before you can react, grabbing your arms and hauling you closer, his nose nearly touching yours. “I do not hurt women, but I will kill every one of my men you touch.” He hisses. “I will not have them thinking to fight me for your cunt.”

You gulp, his fingers digging into your arms to give you a glimpse of the dangerous man he is. You nod, your nose bumping his as you say “I understand.” You don’t want anyone to die because of you. You have had boyfriends, lovers, but you refuse to have your image tarnished by taking a lover while married to Oberyn. You hope this can be annulled once enough time has passed and your mother is better.

****

“You look perfect.” The irony of having Ellaria help him get ready for a wedding to another woman is not lost on him. She smirks as she adjusts his bow tie slightly. “I will have to pick out quite a few lovers tonight to distract myself from missing out on your wedding night.” The pout she sends him is playful and he snorts. “I will be spending tonight in our bed with you and whoever catches our interests.” He captures her hands and holds them, his eyes serious and dark. “This changes nothing between us.”

You brush down your dress, your mom in a beautiful dress, sitting in her wheelchair with the IV connected to her arm. She’s so frail but her smile is beaming and your heart warms at her happiness. Even if she doesn’t quite understand this farce, she’s happy and you can give this day to her. If she doesn’t survive, you’ll know you did everything for her. “He’s going to be blown away.” She coos and you offer her a weak smile in the mirror. You have no bridesmaids, not wanting anyone else involved in this sham and your wedding planner helps you put the intricate veil on your head.

Oberyn stands next to the priest, sure that the Gods will be laughing as he professes to take this woman as his wife. The church is packed, everyone wanting to see the infamous Oberyn Martell marry. Some said it would never be done. He glances at his brother who is sitting in his chair on the front row, making sure that this marriage happens. He cuts his eyes towards the door and sighs.

The music begins to play and for a second, you want to run away and not look back. Then you remember your mother’s face and your chest tightens. You need to do this for her. You inhale deeply and nod, letting the ushers open the doors, and you grip your bouquet as you start your trip down the aisle to a man that doesn’t love you and you don’t love him.

Glancing quickly at Ellaria, Oberyn turns to watch as you start the slow, measured walk down the aisle that is covered in silk flower petals. Some might have believed that he had never married because Ellaria was deemed unsuitable to be his wife, but that was not the truth. The truth was, the part of Oberyn’s heart that loved - beyond his children - died the day his sister was savagely killed. Brutalized and cut down, the vision of her final moments and the loss of his favorite sibling had hardened his heart. Even now, he loves Ellaria in his own way, he cares for her and makes sure that she is provided for, but he does not hold her in an all consuming passion. He does not crave her like he craves air. Watching as your white clad body glides forward, he wonders if you will understand that.

You can feel his eyes on you and you force yourself to look up from the aisle to meet his dark gaze. His stare is intense and you wonder what’s going through his mind. He’s a mystery. He’s been with Ellaria for years on and off and never married her. He’s had eight daughters and never been married. Either he can’t commit or he doesn’t want to commit. You finally stand before him, handing your bouquet to the wedding planner and you take Oberyn’s outstretched hand to stand in front of the priest.

Despite your obvious dislike of the situation, you look beautiful and graceful. Your hand is soft and warm in his and your eyes meet his with a determination that pulls reluctant admiration out of you. This is for your mother, he knows that. The frail woman is here and that is a miracle because the doctors are trying every radical treatment they can to save her. He has known her most of his life and he has to respect this kind of loyalty to her. The willingness to do anything to save her. He pulls you close and starts to flip the veil over your head so he can see you clearly.

Your eyes meet his unhindered as he lifts the veil from your face and you inhale shakily as he reaches for your hands. You barely pay attention to the priest, letting him make his speech but Oberyn has to squeeze your hand to get your attention when the priest asks if you take Oberyn to be your husband. You hesitate for a moment, biting your lip and look over at your mother who is smiling with tears in her eyes. You can’t say no. She needs to have one last chance. “I do.” You declare and Oberyn’s grip on your hands loosens while he says “I do.” After your exchange rings and the priest finishes his speech, you’re in a daze until the priest declares you husband and wife. “You may now kiss your bride.”

His lips curve into a smirk. Not shy about gathering you closer to kiss you without any fear of you pushing him away or slapping him. Not that it would bother him, he doesn’t mind when a lover is rough. It’s exciting. He makes it a scene, dipping you down and kissing you thoroughly, his tongue sliding into your mouth to taste you and turning what should be a chaste kiss into something much more carnal.

Your cheeks burn when he finally sets you on your feet, lips glistening and the crowd cheers as he takes your hand and guides you down the aisle. You hate how your lips tingle and you would never admit it but he’s a good kisser. You stumble slightly but he keeps you upright and you make your way down the aisle until you’re in the hallway, your chest heaving as you let go of his hand. “Well that will certainly be in all the magazines.” You declare and Oberyn chuckles, “had to sell it, Dove. Can’t have people thinking I don’t satisfy my bride.” You scoff and make your way down the hall to the photographers that are waiting. “We both know it’s not going to be my bed you’re in tonight.”

“Disappointed?” He leans close, invading your space and to the photographers, it looks as if Oberyn is whispering sweet nothings in your ear. “You just need to invite me to your bed and I will make sure you have a wedding night you would never forget.” Despite his objections to marrying you, he has no issue fucking you. It would be interesting to aid in striping away your virginal facade and turning you into his own little whore.

You smile and turn to look at him, reaching up to cup his cheek, “I’ll never let you fuck me. You can take my hand, my life as your own, but you’ll never have my body.” You lean in to peck his lips and turn back to the cameras, almost blinded by the lights. Oberyn has had more lovers than you’ve had hot dinners and you refuse to give him that kind of power over you. You know he’d never let you forget it if you let him fuck you. Then he’d leave and go back to Ellaria’s bed. No, you’d never give him that hold over you.

Instead of being angry by your vow, Oberyn bursts out laughing, amused by the venom in your words. His cock twitches, imagining making you eat those words when you fall into his bed eventually. “Then you should not worry about who screams my name tonight.” He murmurs quietly. “Although I’m sure you will hear it.”

The irony of this situation is not lost on you. Doran picked you to calm his brother down but you seem to be riled up by his nature, leaving behind your normally gentle and agreeable personality in favor of defending yourself. His hand cups the back of your neck as per the shouted instructions from the photographer and you smile at him but say through gritted teeth, “rather them than me.”

“Temper, temper.” He muses, winking at you before he drags you closer for a kiss so the photographer can capture the moment. He finds your unrestrained hatred of him refreshing. He doesn’t like when people kiss his ass unless he is in the mood. “Then I will make sure I have a group of them.”

You let him kiss you and you wonder how you’re going to endure the reception when you’re only on the photos. After you take photos with your family, you and Oberyn enter the reception hall to applause and you let him pull you close for the first dance. You don’t say anything, leaning your head on his shoulder to make sure you look close without needing to speak to him and you close your eyes, not wanting to see the crowd watching you.

The moment would actually be considered sweet if there was some semblance of affection between the two of you. When the song comes to a close, the DJ that is setting the mood announces a dance between mother and daughter.

You are surprised but you go over to your mom who is in her wheelchair and she attempts to get up “no mom, don’t stress yourself. We can dance in the wheelchair.” Your mother shakes her head, “absolutely not. I will dance at my baby’s wedding, without being in a wheelchair.” You don’t argue with her, you just help her stand and guide her over to the dancefloor when the song begins and you gently sway with your frail Mother tears sting in your eyes when you try not show how sad you are, but she seems to be getting worse. You had hoped that the treatments at Martells would help her. You don’t see it in her eyes, but she knows that she is dying and she wants to enjoy every moment she has left.

Oberyn watches until it’s obvious that you are supporting most of your mother’s weight and he quickly steps in behind her. Shifting the weight off of you, he grins to the crowd watching. “I was jealous of two beautiful ladies dancing without me.” He jokes, making everyone laugh and making it seem like his impulsive nature is to blame instead of your mother’s frailty.

You can’t deny that Oberyn wrapping his arms around your mom’s waist makes you smile in thanks and the song plays as Oberyn sways you both. When the song ends, he playfully lifts your mom into his arms, carrying her over to her chair. “You’re supposed to carry my daughter.” She giggles and Oberyn winks after he sits her down, “that’s for later.” He presses a soft kiss to the back of your mom’s hand.

Your mother giggles again quietly, charmed by Oberyn’s flirtatious nature even though she’s aware of the man’s proclivities. Perhaps he has changed for you, the thought makes her happy to know that you will have a strong man at your side when she is gone. He winks at her before he stands straight and the DJ announces the first of eight dances with his daughters.

You settle down at your table to watch Oberyn dance with his daughters, each one getting their own dance and you watch him as he speaks softly to them, making them laugh and smile, and sends them to their table with a kiss on the cheek and a hug. It’s clear he adores them. You feel eyes watching you and you turn your head, your eyes meeting Ellaria’s as she offers you a soft smile. You’re surprised she doesn’t hate you. Isn’t glaring at you for marrying her lover.

When you don’t cut your eyes at her, Ellaria picks up her glass of champagne and stands up. Slinking across the hall in a dress that is a little too revealing to be considered proper, but she wears it well. “Dove.” She smiles, sliding into the seat where Oberyn will be sitting later to eat. “You look more beautiful than I imagined you would. You wear the Martell veil well.”

You know people are watching so you offer her a soft smile, “thank you. I was shocked when Oberyn gave it to me. I am sure he always imagined you’d be the one wearing this for his wedding day. I wondered before this charade why you never married each other.” You ponder out loud. “You know about our arrangement and why we are doing this. I have no malice towards you. You are his lover, the mother of his children. I do not know why Doran wanted me to marry his brother.”

She watches you for a moment before she laughs, a beautiful trilling sound of amusement, her head tipped back to expose her long neck. “Oh darling, I see why he wanted you to marry Oberyn.” She hums when she calms down. “And I would have never married him.” She admits causally, shrugging one elegant shoulder. “We do not have that kind of relationship.” She knows how Oberyn feels and she would have never tied herself to him with those things in mind. He was too free of a spirit and so was she, if the truth was told.

You frown, certain that Oberyn loves Ellaria more than anything, but maybe you don’t know the entire story. “I don’t expect him to stop sleeping with you. We aren’t - this isn’t a marriage of love. This is convenient.” You clarify and pick up your glass of champagne, taking a sip while Oberyn spins his daughter around.

“I don’t know if that is alllll true.” She murmurs, a small smile on her face. “And it is wise that you don’t expect him to stop being who he is.” She lifts a brow in irony. “We never want to change someone when we love them.”

You nod, “yeah. I don’t care what he does. I only want my mother to survive. Whatever Oberyn does is his business. I just don’t want him to make me look a fool.” You confess, setting your glass down and everyone claps as Oberyn finishes his last dance.

“Then don’t be surprised by anything that he does.” Ellaria leans forward seriously. “Oberyn might not love you, he doesn’t love me either. Not like you might think, but he is loyal….in his own way.” She cautions you. “You are now his and he will expect the same kind of loyalty from you that he gives you.”

Your frown deepens as she says he doesn’t love her. You’ve heard the rumors of how intense their relationship is. You assumed they were deeply in love. “I won’t make a fool of him.” You assure her, “I just want my mother to survive and after that? Well, that would be a miracle problem to have.”

The other woman glances over at the frail woman with a look of concern and presses her lips together. “I hope that you get your wish.” She murmurs, reaching out and taking your hand. “Let me know if there is anything I can do.”

You appreciate her not spitting in your face since you are stealing her lover as your husband. You squeeze her hand and she glides back to her table as Oberyn passes her. He kisses her cheek and makes his way over to your table, sitting down beside you. "Ellaria likes you." He declares and you snort, "You can tell from just one kiss?"

“My lover is not shy about things she likes.” He chuckles quietly. “Now, I am famished, and I think that we should eat.” He offers, nodding to the wedding planner to have the servers start bringing out the plates of food. The canapés had been good, but he wanted something more. “Eat up.” He winks at you. “You will need your strength.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes and reach for your glass of champagne so you can down it. It’s going to be a long night but you are prepared to endure it when your mom looks like she’s won the lottery. She looks so happy so you force a smile and sit beside Oberyn like you’ve won your own lottery.

The party is still in full swing when you and Oberyn make your exit, ducking the handfuls of birdseed and confetti that all the party goers throw. Holding tight to your hand, he rushes you out, getting to the elevators before he drops your hand and pulls out his keycard to open up the access to the floors where your and his apartments are located. “The party will go on for hours.” He predicts as the car doors slide open and you step onto the elevator. “Pity we will miss it. It was a good one. The dancers the planner found were….limber.”

You lean against the wall of the elevator car, watching the floors pass by and you inhale deeply, looking at Oberyn. “You are welcome to rejoin if you wish but I suppose we need to make people think we consummated our marriage.” You hum and you know you won’t stop him from finding someone to warm his bed.

His brow arches and he smirks, leaning closer to you and pressing you closer to the wall. “Are you going to invite me between those pretty thighs, Dove?” He coos, reaching up to caress your neck, his thumb rubbing your pulse. Your scoff grates on his ears, irritating him when he has been flirty and kind to you. He has done nothing today to humiliate you or demoralize you and yet you are pushing him away like he is the gum on the bottom of your show. Him, Oberyn Martell. His piercing hot look turns cold and he hisses. “It does not matter.” He snorts. “I have people lined up to suck my cock if you have no desire to.” He boasts. “Any one I want. Why would I want you?” It’s petty and cruel, but he can be that way when he’s insulted. “You have the demeanor of a cold fish anyway. I like my partners to enjoy themselves.”

His words shouldn’t hurt as much as they do but you stiffen and when the elevator dings to announce your arrival, you stride out of the car into the apartment without hesitation. “Then go find your pleasure anywhere but my bed. I didn’t marry you to fuck you, Oberyn. I married you to save my mother. You need to remember that.” You hiss and slam the door behind you to your bedroom, slumping down on the bed. You listen to the elevator ding again and tears sting in your eyes until they roll down your cheeks. You married a man who doesn’t love you and you hate that you had to do this to save your mother. Your sobs come when you realize you can’t get out of your dress without help so you lay down, constricted by the lace, and cry for your marriage and your mother.

“Lover…” Ellaria slumps onto the bed, worn out and exhausted. “I need rest.” Oberyn chuckles, his wedding attire strewn over the floor as his hand slides over her sweat slick hip and he slaps the ass off the man who is laying beside her. “Then you watch.” He tells her, lunging forward to slide his tongue into the man’s mouth as he tries to forget about how your eyes had flickered with hurt before you turned that tongue on him.

**** 

It’s been a few weeks since you and Oberyn married and you’ve barely seen him. You are with your mother every day as she struggles to get through treatment and you know it’s a fruitless effort. She’s withering away and even selling your soul to the Martell’s won’t save her. You arrive back at the apartment after your mom fell asleep and you’re surprised to see Dario standing in your kitchen. “What - what are you doing here?” You ask, confused and looking around for Oberyn.

Dario smirks as he pops another piece of an orange that he had stolen from your fruit bowl into his mouth. “Checking on you.” He quips and flings the rind of the fruit onto the counter as he walks towards you. “Haven’t seen you around and wanted to make sure you aren’t……lonely.” He knows that Oberyn hasn’t been spending his nights in your bed. He has men and women parading out of the floor that he shares with Ellaria. He slides his hot gaze up and down your body suggestively and licks his lips. “Perhaps you prefer someone who knows what he wants.”

Your back stiffens and you realize he is alone with you. You glance around the apartment and he reaches out to caress your cheek. You freeze, unsure of what to do when you’re alone and you know what he’s capable of. “I’m not - Oberyn is - I’m not allowed to touch any of Oberyn’s men.”

“He won’t know.” He muses. “Too busy playing with his whore and everyone else.” He snorts. “Did you reject him? He’s fucking everything that walks like you did. Proving to himself that your cunt doesn’t matter, but I think it does.” He steps closer and smirks. “I want to have something he doesn’t. For once.”

You are frozen in place, your mind skipping and you know you should push him away but he leans in to press his lips to your cheek, a chuckle breathed against your skin, and your back hits the kitchen counter as he crowds you, his other hand on your waist.

Dario takes your non-refusal as acceptance. His body pressing against yours as his mouth moves from your cheek to your lips. Mindless to anything but you letting him kiss you. Not hearing the door to the apartment open or the quick steps towards you, anger lacing each boot strike. He doesn’t even know that anyone else is in the apartment, too focused on his victory over Oberyn, until a hand grabs his shoulder and he is dragged off you like a rag doll. A fist plowing into his face before his eyes even open to see who is there. “Bastard!” Oberyn shouts, kicking the man while he is down before he backs up. “You were warned not to touch her.” He roars.

You gasp, shuffling to get out of the way as Oberyn straddles Dario and his fist comes down on his face. "Oberyn. I - he didn't - he hasn't fucked me." You yell at him but he continues to hit his second in command.

“You want what is mine?” Oberyn rages, hitting him with one fist, then the other with alternating strikes. Dario had thrown his hands up to defend himself but the force of the attack renders him helpless as his boss beats him. He gurgles out an apology, barely heard and not acknowledged. “I let you have everything - anything - you want. But not her. I told you that you are getting too comfortable.” He had known Dario was jealous, thinking himself the better man. It was why he had told him that he couldn’t have you. No one could. If the man fucked his wife, he would start thinking he could replace Oberyn, and he would never let that happen.

You scream at Oberyn to stop. Dario might have been handsy but he doesn’t deserve to die. You watch as Oberyn hits until Dario goes unconscious and your husband’s chest heaves as he looks up at you, sweat on his brow and his knuckles torn up. “Holy shit.” You gasp, kneeling down, “I can’t - why did you - why?” You ask breathlessly.

Panting, Oberyn reaches for you as he leaps to his feet. He is still agile and deadly, making you gasp with the speed at which he moves. He growls as he shakes you slightly. “I told you not to touch my men.” He hisses, right before his lips slam against yours in a bruising kiss.

When you look back on the moment you kiss him back and you realize it was adrenaline. Your hands tangle in his hair and you moan into his mouth, pressing yourself against him. He slides his tongue into your mouth and you moan, sliding yours against his and you feel his cock hardening against your hip.

Dario doesn’t groan, still unconscious on the floor as Oberyn backs you against the wall and presses you into it. Completely taking control of the kiss as his hands grab your ass and he pulls you up into his arms and presses against your core as he carries you through the apartment to your bedroom.

You don’t reject him, hyped up on adrenaline and the feelings that have been haunting you since the night you got married. His dark eyes find you everywhere - in the coffee you drink, in the chocolate you treated yourself to, and you know you need to get him out of your system. Your back hits the bedsheets and he follows, kneeling between your legs and his lips press against your jaw. “Oberyn.” You gasp, tilting your head as you close your eyes so he can destroy you like you always knew he would.

His name on your lips is all the permission he needs. Hands pulling at the clothes you are wearing. Stripping them as efficiently and and quickly as possible. Greedy for every bare inch of flesh you reveal to him and his lips travel over your neck. His teeth leaving a trail of marks behind as he claims you as his own.

You want to see all of him. To know if the rumors of his beauty are exaggerated or if they are true. You unbutton his half buttoned shirt, pushing it from his shoulders and he shrugs it off, tossing it aside, while your hands caress his chest down to his stomach.

“You do not even look at my men.” Oberyn hisses, flipping open his belt and snapping it out of the loops of his pants, the gun holster dropping to the floor and sliding away. Reminding you of how easily he could have killed Dario. He grabs your hands, thinking to tie them to the bed, but he wants you to touch him. To be just as hungry for his body as he has been for yours. He’s never been denied, and instead of it making him indifferent, it has made him crave you. Tossing the belt aside, he holds your hands above your head, making your tits stick up in their lacy bra and he ducks his head to bite down on a nipple.

You cry out, arching your back and you wrap your legs around his waist, grinding up against him. “Fuck. I- I- shit. Baby.” You cry out, “I need you inside me. Now.” You beg, cunt aching with the need to have him stretch you out.

His pants disappeared, underwear was never a thing, so it isn’t a barrier between the two of you. His fingers twist under your panties and he rips them apart at the seams. Taking you at your word that you need him.

You gasp when he rips your panties off and you spread your legs for him without hesitation. You desperately want him inside of you. The way he defended what is his even if you aren’t his in heart, you are on paper, and the way he took out Dario has you ashamedly wet. “Fuck me, Oberyn.” You whine when he grips his cock and shifts between your thighs.

He loves the way you are begging him. His smirk is self satisfied and predatory as he shuffles close and swipes his cock through your soaked folds. “Gods, Dove.” He growls. “You will remember tonight.” He vows, lining his cock up and snapping his hips forward as he covers your mouth with his own.

You cry out into his mouth, the sound smothered by his tongue, and your hands find his back, scratching your nails down the golden skin as his cock stretches you out. There’s a sting but you love it.

Oberyn would never insult you to say that you are the best cunt he’s ever been inside. You wouldn’t believe him. However you are wet and tight, fitting him like a glove. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, drawing his hips to plunge back into you just as fast, eagerly setting a frantic pace.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he starts to fuck you. There’s no mistaking this for love making. It’s fucking, through and through. His hips hit your ass and you feel like you can barely breathe as he grunts into your mouth. It’s been so long since you had sex, focused on your mother’s health, and it's bliss to think about nothing except how you feel.

One hand braces on the bed below you, the other squeezes your tit. Pinching your nipple harshly to make you gasp and clench around his cock before he slides his hand lower. Finding your clit with precision accuracy and starting to rub tight, perfect circles on the bundle of nerves. Very practiced in pleasuring men and women alike.

“Holy shit. Oh - oh Gods, Oberyn. Baby. Oh shit.” You pant as he rocks into you, his fingers rubbing your clit, and you whimper as you scratch your nails down his back, marking him in the only way you can. “You’re gonna - shit. I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You gasp, the feeling suddenly overwhelming you.

He doesn’t slow his pace down. His hips slapping against your ass. “Good girl, Dove.” He groans, kissing along your jaw. “Cum on my cock. Soak me.” He orders, feeling your body clench down around him.

The wail you let out is almost inhuman and you clamp down on his cock, a cry of his name barely distinguishable as you soak his cock with your cum. Your nails digging into his back and his cock working you through your orgasm.

He’s determined to make you never forget being in bed with him, fucking him. Wanting you to crave it every time your cunt throbs with need and your thoughts stray to having someone plunge into you. His men are off limits, unable to touch you like he does. You can have him, Ellaria and anyone else, but he wants you to want him.

You moan as he works you through your orgasm and you are sure he’s punching your guts with his cock as he pushes deep on each harsh movement of his hips. “Oberyn.” You whine when he pulls out of you and he flips you onto your hands and knees. You struggle to balance as he kneels behind you and pushes into you with a speed you never expected.

The weeks that you have been married and he’s been denied your body, they are being made up for right now. Every time he’s wanted to fuck you and not been able to is being taken out on your body. He groans when you clamp down around him again.

Your fingers tangle in the sheets and you moan his name as he rocks into you. He feels even bigger in this angle and you arch your back, your tits swaying as he fucks you with his entire body. “Yes baby. Shit. That’s - keep going. Don’t you dare stop.”

He chuckles at your demands, finding your bossiness in bed charming. Digging his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave bruises under your skin, he hisses out your name as he continues to pound into you.

You whine, head dropping down as he wrecks you, and you know why the Red Viper is so well known as a voracious lover. “Fuck. Fuck. You’re - I’m gonna - oh shit. Keep going. Right there.” You cry, eyes squeezed shut as he hits something incredible and it takes two more thrusts to unravel you.

Your orgasm is beautiful, your cry loud enough that anyone near your apartments would hear his name being screamed. Hissing in pleasure while the cream from your cunt soaks his cock, making obscene sounds as he fucks you through it. “That’s right.” He groans. “Fuck, you are happy now, aren’t you? Getting fucked like you’ve dreamed of. You needed this, didn’t you?”

“Fu- fuck you. I don’t - shit. I want - want to feel you.” You choke out, chest heaving as he fucks the air from your lungs. “You - you wanted my pussy. You’re the one who - who wants to fuck anything going and I- I tried to hold out.” You confess in gasps.

His fingers wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you up and wrapping an arm around your chest. His hand cupping your tit as he pumps up into you from a new angle. “Yes, I wanted this pussy.” He growls in your ear. “Craved it, fucked anything I could to take my mind off of it, off you.” He pants out the confession. “Nothing worked until I found you kissing my lieutenant.”

You lean back against him, turning your head so you can look at him. Sweat on his brow and his jaw clenched as he thrusts up into you. “It was yours on paper. Your wife. Your pussy. I don’t make it easy. You had to show me that I wasn’t going to be thrown out of your bed after you’ve gotten what you want.”

His eyes are dark and hot, boring into yours as he thrusts into you, rocking you towards another orgasm. His other hand slides down to your clit where he starts rubbing it again. “Mine.” He agrees. “My wife, my lover, you can be in my bed whenever you want. Have your cunt licked while I have my cock sucked. Bounce on my lover’s cock while I bury mine inside him. Cum on Ellaria’s fingers while I fuck her. Nothing will be denied to you.” He groans. “Except my men.”

Dario laying on the kitchen floor is proof of that. You know now that he will kill anyone who even looks your way and you should hate that but instead it has you clenching around his cock. He hisses and you moan, “I want to try it. I want to experience your lovers and you.” You moan, covering his hand on your breast with his.

Oberyn groans in your ear, loving that you will compromise with him. Not try to change him. “You won’t regret it, Dove.” He vows, his hips still slamming into your ass he fucks you. “Now, cum for me again.” He orders. “Cum for me and I’ll fill up your cunt with my seed and be satisfied.”

His words send you over the edge and you swear you black out as you clamp down on his cock and soak him. “Oh fuck!” You squeal, shaking in his arms as you fall apart pressed against his chest.

This time Oberyn lets himself follow you. Thrusting deep two more times, he buries his cock in your womb and starts to flood it with his seed. Groaning your name in your ear as he pumps you full. “Shiiiiit.”

You pant, squeezing your eyes shut as he works you through your orgasm and you whimper when his cock twitches inside you. “Shit.” You echo, closing your eyes as you relax against him. “Don’t push me away again. I don’t want to hate you.”

“I thought that was what you wanted.” Oberyn admits. “My brother is not happy that you and I have been living separate lives.” He admits, rolling you both to your side and lying down on your bed. “I had come to ask if you would have dinner with me.”

You sigh, shifting to curl into him. “I want to get to know you. We are in this situation for a reason and I want my mother to get better and to make this marriage work for us until it doesn’t. We have to at least try. There’s a reason why Doran chose me.”

“He said you would tame me.” He doesn’t mind this version of you, the one that isn’t spewing insults. His cock is still glistening with your juices and he knows you are dripping his cum onto the bed. Maybe he just needed to fuck you. “I don’t know why he would think that.” He snorts. “I nearly killed Dario. Still might.”

You tut, caressing his chest, “no. You don’t need to kill him. He was just trying his luck. Don’t let him get into your head. We need to stand solid side by side.” You declare and sigh, resting your head on his chest, “I just want my mom to have a chance.”

Oberyn sighs. “She has the best doctors in Dorne.” He reminds you softly. “Doran has asked for a few more to come from Winterfell and King’s Landing to make sure there is nothing else to be done.” Doran always kept his word and that meant your mother would receive the best possible care.

You hum, tears stinging in your eyes, and you swallow harshly. “I don’t want to lose her.” You choke, “she’s been all I have known. My father died when I was a baby.” You confess, “I’ll be alone if she dies.”

“You won’t be alone.” He reminds you. “You have a husband. My family became your family when we married.”

You sigh, pressing a kiss to his glistening golden skin, “thank you.” You murmur, knowing he means every word. He’s your husband and he will be there for you.

He lays there for another minute before he sighs. “I need to drag Dario out of your apartment.” He huffs, reminded of the fact the man is still unconscious on your kitchen floor. “Have the cleaners come in and clean up the blood.”

You snort and shake your head, “he needs a doctor.” You tell him but he ignores you in favor of sliding out of bed and you watch his back muscles move as he heads into the bathroom. He comes back out with a wet rag to clean you up and you sigh, stretching out on the sheets.

Oberyn can be a selfish lover with some. The people who float in and out of his bed clean themselves up, but for Ellaria, for you, he will take care of your needs. You bite your lip as he carefully runs the rag over your folds and he snorts in amusement. “I just watched your asshole pulse while I fucked you.” He reminds you. “There isn’t a part of your body that does not please me.”

You chuckle and stretch out with a groan, “that’s good to know because I have never felt this good before.” You confess, “holy shit, Oberyn. I can’t - wow.” You’re a little speechless as you snuggle into your pillow.

He hums, happy that you are pleased with how he fucked you. It’s important to him that no one leaves his bed unsatisfied, but especially the woman who is his wife. Now not just in name.

**** 

Tears sting in your eyes as you watch your mom struggle to breathe. She’s gotten worse and it’s only taken days for her to be bedridden and unable to breathe properly. The treatments aren’t working and you try your best to offer her a smile but your heart is breaking. She’s dying and there’s nothing more you can do.

The door opens and Oberyn comes into the room, pausing when he sees you in the chair and clutching your mother’s hand. The prognosis isn’t good and he had just come from talking with the doctor before coming to visit with the older woman. “Dove.” He murmurs softly before he walks over to your mother and kisses her papery thin cheek. Her skin has taken on a waxy appearance and feel, the underlying smell of death clinging to her. It won’t be long now. He says your mother’s name and gives her his most charming smile. “You are as beautiful as the day you came to work for us.” He praises, kneeling down on the other side of the bed. “You will be pain free in no time.”

Your mother offers him a weak smile, her hand shaking as she lifts it to cup his cheek. “Look after her. She deserves love and to be happy.” She tells Oberyn and you bite your lip to stop the tears from sliding down your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, my desert rose.” Oberyn covers her hand with his own, pressing it against his cheek. “Your daughter will be well taken care of.” He promises. “She will have joy and love. She will know happiness and that you watch her from your perch with the Gods proudly.”

You feel the sob work its way up your throat and swallow harshly, walking over to Oberyn to rub his back in silent thanks for him reassuring your mother in her final time. You lean down beside him, looking at your mom.” “We will be happy.” You promise, “Oberyn has been incredible.” You assure her, “he will look after me.” Your mom nods, her eyes getting heavy and you bite your lip to stop your sob.

Oberyn holds her hand with his, feeling her body relax and there is one surprisingly strong inhale that rattles through her frail body. The exhale doesn’t come, making Oberyn sigh as he knows that your mother has gone to be with the gods and you will be inconsolable.

You stare at her for several moments, your hand reaching out and that’s when you realize she’s gone. You sob and lean in to kiss her cheek, silently saying goodbye to her and you close your eyes, trying to not break down.

Pushing to his feet, Oberyn places your mother’s hand on her chest and steps back to let you grieve how you need to. “Her pain is gone, Dove.” He murmurs softly. He won’t leave you, knowing what you are going through. After you have your moment with her, he will arrange for your mother’s body to be treated with the utmost care.

You nod, lip quivering, and tears stream down your cheeks as you watch him treat your mom with so much care. “I can’t - I need you to - to help me plan everything.” You request and he nods, “of course I will.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your hair. You know he will, he promised your mom to look after you.

“She was a good woman.” He tells you quietly. “I would come sit with her, every afternoon, after lunch.” He had never told you that. Or that he had asked her not to tell you. After the arrangement had been made, and she had started the treatments, he had made time no matter what else was going on. Even when you weren’t speaking with him.

Your eyes widen and you stare at him in shock. “You came - every day?” You ask and he nods. Your heart pounds in your chest and he reaches out to gently wipe the tears from your cheeks. You reach up to grip his wrist and he freezes, thinking you’re rejecting his touch. “Thank you.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his waist after you let go of his wrist.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He promises. “At first, I came to see if I could talk her into getting you to change your mind, but when I saw her doctor, I knew I could never do that.” He explains, not wanting you to think that he was totally honorable. “But then I kept coming back for her, for myself. She had always been there in Sunspear but I had never gotten to know her.” It’s a regret he will carry, but he is happy for the time he has spent with her. “I see why you went to such lengths to save her.”

You are shocked to hear that he was visiting your mother. You never knew that and you swallow harshly, trying to stop the sob that’s working its way up your throat again. You bury your face in his chest and squeeze him, knowing that you want to make this marriage work. He’s your husband, your only family.

**** 

The funeral is a beautiful, somber affair. Oberyn had helped you through it all, guiding you through choosing a service and flowers, music and a dress for her to wear. He had insisted that she be buried in the Martell crypt, telling you that as his mother-in-law, she deserved to be there. Since it was housed in the basement of the building you lived in, you could visit anytime you wished. He had stood by your side, strong and comforting, opening up to you about his grief from losing his sister and how it had changed him.

After the funeral, you have grown closer to Oberyn and you are getting ready for dinner with him when it hits you. You love him. You have no idea when it happened because you didn’t want him, didn’t like him, but between the drama between you and the way he’s supported you during your mother’s death, you have fallen for the Red Viper. You stare at yourself in shock and Oberyn walks into your now shared bedroom with the towel around his waist, chest glistening from his shower. “I love you.” You blurt out, unable to stop yourself.

Oberyn stops, turning towards you with his brow dipping into a furrowed line. “You shouldn’t, Dove.” He tells you quietly. “I’m not a good man, a man who is content to live a quiet and simple life.” You know he still sleeps with others. Not just Ellaria. He comes back to you most nights, especially since your mother’s death, but it’s no secret that he isn’t giving up his ways. You look so crestfallen that he sighs, his hands dropping to his sides. “You know I care about you?” He asks. “Right? That you will be safe and find pleasure and comfort with me? That I will make sure you are happy?”

His answer shouldn’t surprise you. He’s made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t do commitment and love. You’d accepted that he shares his bed with others and you haven’t been in a mindset to think about trying that with him. “I do.” You promise, looking back at yourself in the mirror. “I just wanted you to know how I feel. Even if you don’t feel the same.” You assure him and he nods, stripping off his towel and you can’t help but admire his body in your reflection. “Oberyn?” You ask and he looks at you, “yes, Dove?” You bite your lip, “I want to share our bed with Ellaria and another. I want to experience more.” You announce, slightly nervous.

He’s surprised and cautious about your wants. “Are you sure?” He doesn’t care about his nudity as he strides towards you, picking up the bottle of wine that has been left by the maid and drinks straight from the neck. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” He reaches out and caresses your cheek. “You don’t have to change for me.”

You nod, “I’m not changing because of you. I want to try it. If I don’t like it, I’ll say so. I want to experience something different. Can you help me do that?” You ask and he nods, a smirk on his face as he brushes your cheekbone with his thumb. “It would be my pleasure.” You smirk, turning your head to kiss his palm, “our pleasure.” Oberyn chuckles and leans down to kiss you, the taste of the wine on his tongue has you moaning and he pulls back to say “fuck dinner. I want you.” You moan into the kiss and let him drag you to the bed. He tells you everything he wants to watch you do, growled in your ear while he fucks you from behind. Your dinner reservation ignored.

After you are sprawled on the bed, dripping his cum, Oberyn caresses your hip and chuckles. “Do I call Ellaria and her lover into our bed now, or would you prefer tomorrow?” He slaps a cheek of your ass playfully. “Did I wear you out?”

You chuckle, “you have enough energy for them to come over now, husband? Or are you too old to continue fucking through the night?” You tease, eyebrows raised as you look up at him from where you are laying on the bed.

He rolls his eyes slightly and sighs. “Too old?” He snorts. “You weren’t calling me too old when you were screaming my name in pleasure while you soaked my cock.”

You chuckle at his offense and you shift to curl into his chest, “call them now. I’ll clean up and we can host Ellaria and her lover. I want to experience them.” You caress Oberyn’s sternum as you look at him.

He chuckles and reaches for his phone that is lying on the bedside table. Opening it up, he selects a number from his contacts and hits call. His fingers caress your back as the phone rings and he smiles when the sultry voice of his lover is heard. “Darling.” He coos. “Are you entertaining a woman tonight, or do you have that lover who has such an impressive cock of his own?” He asks, as easily as he would ask about a dinner date.

You listen to him on the phone, lounging on the bed as he speaks to Ellaria. “The lover with the impressive cock.” Ellaria coos her answer and you smirk, “come over.” You say since he has it on speaker and Ellaria is surprised when she speaks your name. “I want to experience you and your lover with my husband.” You declare, wanting to let her know your intentions.

Ellaria hums, wondering if Oberyn has convinced you to try this, although she knows he is not one to force matters. “We will be down shortly.” The floor where his lover and his children live is above yours, he had never wanted to be too far from the Sand Snakes. Chuckling, he ends the call and smirks at you. “Will you entertain with my cum dripping from your cunt or will you clean up?” He asks. “I think I might wear your juices on my cock.”

You smirk, shifting to kneel on the bed, and you reach for him to wrap your arms around his neck. “Do you think Ellaria will wish to lick your cum from my pussy?” You hum, leaning in to kiss his jaw, “or will she want me to be clean?”

Oberyn hums, turning his head to press his lips to yours. “She knows the taste of my cum well.” He chuckles. “I know she would love to see how we taste together.”

You hum against his lips, caressing his chest, and you moan against his lips when his tongue slides into your mouth. Neither of you hear the door open but you hear Ellaria when she says “ah, what a gorgeous sight, lover.”

He smiles against your lips, his flaccid cock twitching as he thinks about what is to come. You have never had multiple partners, so it will be a treat to see if you like that.

You smirk, turning your head to look at Ellaria and gesture for her to join. “Come here.” You coo and wave her over with her lover. Ellaria kneels on the bed and you reach for her, pressing your lips to hers, your hand curling around her neck.

Oberyn groans at the beautiful sight and he feels Omar’s hand on his shoulder. Turning and pressing his lips to the other man’s easily. He has had him before and he knows you will be pleased with his cock if you take it tonight.

You moan when you pull your lips from Ellaria so you can watch Oberyn kiss the other man. His hand cupping his cheek and your stomach twists in arousal at the sight. You moan softly and watch him kiss another man. “It’s a gorgeous sight, isn’t it?” Ellaria coos in your ear and she caresses your back until she’s squeezing your ass. You nod, turning your head to press your lips back to hers, your tongue sliding against hers while you reach up to cup her breast.

Pleasure is all Oberyn ever strives for in a sexual encounter. He wants everyone to enjoy themselves. Most of all him, but right now, this is also more about you than him. To see if you are willing to slot yourself into this part of his world, to open up to the comfort that can be found in others arms and not let jealousy come between you. He breaks away from Omar’s kiss. “Ellaria.” He rasps out. “She wants you to lick my cum from her pretty little cunt.” He informs his lover.

Ellaria moans, kissing along your jaw, “you want me to lick your pussy, beautiful girl?” She coos and you nod, falling under her spell as her dark eyes burn into yours. She guides you to lay down on the bed and spreads your legs, admiring the creamy mess between your thighs, and your chest heaves in anticipation as she shifts to law down between your legs.

Omar’s hand wraps around Oberyn’s cock and he groans, making you look over at him. He flashes you a smirk and nods towards Ellaria. “She will eat your cunt while her lover sucks my cock.”

You gasp when Ellaria’s tongue slides through your folds, her moan vibrating through you and you watch Omar shift onto his knees, his hand squeezing Oberyn’s cock as he leans closer to take him into his mouth, making your husband groan. The sight has your stomach clenching and your pussy pulse against Ellaria’s tongue. “Shit.” You choke, reaching down to tangle your fingers in her hair.

Oberyn hums in pleasure and his hand cups the back of Omar’s head as he eagerly swallows down his cock. “You are a pretty sight.” He praises breathless, both to you and Ellaria and the man who is pleasuring him. “How does it feel, Dove? Knowing that a woman's tongue can know your body so well?”

You whine, tilting your head back against the mattress as Ellaria strokes your thighs, pushing them further apart. “You taste so good.” She coos and slides her tongue through your folds until she sucks your clit. You cry out and moan, back arching as you watch Oberyn take his pleasure, rocking his hips into Omar’s mouth.

Oberyn’s head tilts back, groaning loudly as he experiences the talented mouth of the other man. Only opening his eyes again so he can watch you rock your hips down onto Ellaria’s face. “You look so good like that.” He pants. “Spread out and indulgent. Both of you are so eager for more.”

Ellaria hums against your folds, moaning when you tug on her hair. She sucks on your clit a little harder and you whine, bucking your hips up into her face. She flings her arm over your stomach and Oberyn groans as he watches you. Your eyes meet his and you whimper, “so good.”

He caresses Omar’s cheek and feels where his cock makes the man’s throat bulge. “Make her cum, El.” He pants out, knowing how talented that tongue is. “Make her cum so she can taste your gorgeous cunt.”

His words send you over the edge and you cry out, thighs pressing against her head as you cum against her tongue. She moans and laps at your folds, wanting every drop, and you shake while you moan her name, your eyes closing while Oberyn watches you.

Tapping the other man’s chin, Oberyn pulls his hips back. His cock sliding out of the hot mouth that it had been buried in and he leans over to drag Ellaria up to taste you from her lips with a groan.

You watch Oberyn kiss Ellaria and you reach for Omar, pulling him close to kiss him. His hands grab your waist and he pulls you close while Ellaria and Oberyn kiss. It’s so erotic, your cunt drips despite you just orgasming from Ellaria’s tongue.

The kiss between lovers is long, easily something that could last all day. But Oberyn and Ellaria both are eager to witness the passion you share with the other man. Turning and moaning as the sight as your hand wraps around the thick cock attached to Omar’s magnificent form. “Lover, perhaps Omar should fuck her while she licks my cunt?” Ellaria moans. “I doubt you will object to filling his ass with your cock.”

Oberyn smirks, “you won’t catch me arguing about that, lover.” He coos and he reaches for you, “you want to have his cock, my wife?” He asks and you nod, “yes.” You’re breathless and you want to sample Ellaria. He chuckles and reaches out to squeeze your ass, “your wish is our command.” He winks and Ellaria shifts to lay down. You kneel on your hands and lean in to slide your tongue along Ellaria’s thigh.

Ellaria moans your name, her eyes sliding closed and there is a very pleased smirk on her face. As if this is the outcome she had been anticipating. “Gorgeous.” Oberyn coos as Omar pumps his cock and shuffles behind you. “Fill my wife with your cock and I’ll prep you to take mine.” He grunts. “She will experience the force of both of our thrusts.”

When Omar starts to enter you, you whimper against Ellaria’s skin. He’s thicker than Oberyn but not as long. You pant as he pushes into you and you let yourself stretch around him while caressing Ellaria’s thighs. When he’s fully inside you, you timidly lean down towards Ellaria’s pussy. “I, uh, haven’t done this before.” You confess and Ellaria smirks, “just do to me what you love to have done to yourself.” She instructs and you nod, leaning in to slide your tongue through her folds.

Oberyn shuffles off the bed, watching you take the other man’s cock from a different angle while he gets a bottle of lube. The sight of your tongue timidly sliding through Ellaria’s cunt is intoxicating. He grabs the bottle from the drawer and leans down, pushing his head beside yours and letting his tongue flutter alongside yours.

His tongue tangling with yours has you moaning and Ellaria pants, her fingers tangling in his hair and her hand on your neck. “Fuck.” She curses and you moan, lapping at her clit with Oberyn until he pulls away, kissing you on the cheek.

“You look so pretty like this, Dove.” Oberyn coos as he slides back behind Omar and opens the tube to squeeze some lube on his fingers. “Ellaria likes your tongue.”

Omar groans when Oberyn presses his slicked up digits against his ass and your husband chuckles at his pleasured groan when he’s not even got started yet. You lap at Ellaria’s folds, sliding down to push your tongue into her and Omar slowly rocks into you, taking one of Oberyn’s fingers inside.

Despite having fucked Omar before, Oberyn takes his time to work him open. Knowing that he needs to be stretched so he doesn’t tear. His ass is tight and he groans when the muscles clench down around his finger. Pulling back and adding more lube before working a second finger inside him. “That’s it, lover. Open up for me and you will have my cock buried in your ass soon. You’ll like that, impaled on my cock while fucking my wife. You’ll be in heaven.”

Omar moans, dropping his head as he tries to stay still. You whine against Ellaria’s folds, wanting more but he doesn’t move until Oberyn has stretched him out. You slide your tongue up to suck on Ellaria’s clit and she watches Oberyn move to lube up his cock, spreading more lube on Omar’s ass as he kneels behind him.

“Fuck.” Oberyn groans, pressing the head of his cock against the grasping ring of muscles and starts to breach the man. Sliding his hips forward until the head is inside and he hisses, sliding his hand down Omar’s back. “Start moving.” He orders the other man. “Fuck yourself back onto my cock as you fuck my Dove.”

Just his words are enough for Omar to twitch inside you but he nods, gripping your hips as he starts to move. You whine in delight, the vibrations making Ellaria moan in pleasure as you lap at her clit. It doesn’t take long for you all to have a rhythm established and you are moaning at the way Omar pushes into you.

Once Oberyn feels the way Omar is pushing back against his cock, he knows he can ramp up the pace. The man is begging for him to hammer into his pretty little ass and wreck him from the way he is squeezing his cock like a vice. Gritting his teeth, Oberyn digs his fingers into Omar’s hips and snaps his own forward harshly, making the other man cry out in pleasure as he strikes against his prostate.

Omar is pushed into you by Oberyn and in turn, you moan into Ellaria’s cunt, making her whine. The motion back and forth continues, building up as the four of you seek pleasure and pleasure from one another. It’s intoxicating and you can understand why Oberyn loves it so much.

Leaning over Omar’s shoulder to watch you and Ellaria. Loving how eagerly you are devouring his lover’s cunt. As you hear her moans, it spurs you on, wanting to hear more from her. Ellaria paws at her breasts and tugs on your hair as she rocks her hips down, greedy for your tongue. “That’s it, Dove. Devour her. Make her cum on your tongue and then that thick cock will fill your cunt. After you cream all over him.”

Oberyn’s words make you clench around Omar who hisses and bucks into you a little harder. You slide your tongue into Ellaria and you barely need to move your head, pushed into your pussy by the two men behind you.

Oberyn chuckles, continuing his harsh pace as he spears into the other man. “That’s right, fuck. All of us are going to cum. Every one of us. Ellaria is loving that tongue in her cunt, aren’t you?” He growls.

Ellaria moans and nods, tangling her fingers in your hair to push you even further into her cunt. You lap at her clit and she meets Oberyn’s eyes. “Your wife is not as innocent as she seems. She’s going to make me cum.” She confesses breathlessly and Omar feels you clench around his cock.

Oberyn’s filthy chuckle is low, heated. “Good girl, Dove.” He praises. “Make her cum. Show her how filthy you can be. Cum on Omar’s cock. Fuck, you fit in so well. We will all fuck you until you are covered in cum. Until you are full.” He rambles as he plows into Omar, so incredibly turned on by how erotic his once prudish seeming wife is being right now. “Fuuuuuck.”

Oberyn’s words have your cunt fluttering around Omar’s cock but you want Ellaria to cum first. You suck on her clit and snake your hand along her thigh until you are pushing two digits into her weeping pussy. She cries out and you moan victoriously when she clamps down on your fingers and her back arches.

Ellaria cumming is always a beautiful sight. The gorgeous woman is enthralling when she shakes in pleasure and it’s made even more intoxicating by the knowledge that you made her cum. His wife devours her cunt like you are born to do it and makes his lover cry out in bliss, making him think that this could be a regular occurrence.

You work her through it, making you moan into her folds until she’s pushing your head away. You whine but Omar’s hands grab your tits, squeezing them, and you are sent closer to your orgasm. His hips hit your ass and you whimper when he gets the angle just right. “That’s it baby. Cum for us.” Ellaria coos, watching your face.

Oberyn can tell from the way your breaths are catching in your chest that you are about to cum. You must be squeezing Omar’s cock because the other man’s ring of muscles is pulsing around his cock. “She’s close.” He bites out.

Your hands grip Ellaria’s as she coos to you, “cum for us, lover.” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut, and you gasp when you feel Oberyn’s fingers rubbing your clit. You are pushed over the edge and moan your husband’s name as you fall apart on another man’s cock.

Oberyn twitching inside you, the pressure against Omar’s prostate makes the other man cry out. His hips lurch forward and he starts to throb. Painting your walls with ropes of sticky cum while his puckered hole spasms around your husband’s cock.

You pant, collapsing forward and Omar follows you, Oberyn shifting his knees to follow and you moan when his hand squeezes your hip while he fucks Omar harder, making the man inside you twitch despite his softening cock. “Fuck. Cum for me, baby.” You demand and Ellaria smirks, “cum for your wife, lover.”

You are pressed under the weight of the other man and Oberyn doesn’t hold back. Pounding into Omar to make the man wail in pleasure as his orgasm is pushed past the point of overwhelming. Hisses out your name as he drives into the tight hole again and again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He roars, pushing deep and flooding the man’s ass with his cum. Panting as he works himself through the intense pleasure.

You sigh, Ellaria stroking your hair as you relax under the weight of the men. It’s blissful and something you never imagined before. Omar pulls out of you as he’s soft and you shuffle up to lay beside Ellaria, turning your head to capture her lips while you spread your legs to show your husband the other man’s cum inside of you.

“Fuck.” Even though he hasn’t caught his breath, after pulling out of Omar, Oberyn ducks his head down and swipes his tongue through your cum covered folds to taste you and the other man’s combined juices.

“Fuck.” You pant, throwing your head back, and Ellaria chuckles, turning her head to pull Oberyn up so she can kiss him, wanting to sample the combination herself.

Oberyn lands next to Ellaria, tangling his tongue with hers easily and chuckling when she moans. Knowing that the other woman has become intoxicated by the taste as he has. Pulling away from his lips is a struggle but he reaches for you as well to kiss you softly, his other arm reaching for Omar to pull him closer as well. “Fuck.” He murmurs against your lips. “How do you like my way?” He asks.

You chuckle, reaching out to caress his cheek, “I love it.” You confess, “I want to do this again.” You admit and he smirks, knowing he wants to do this with you too but also keep you to himself sometimes. You know he’s going to be difficult to tame but you don’t want him to be anyone but himself, even if you were bought and paid to marry him for your mother’s sake.

[whoredyceps]

“Abso-fuckin-lutely.”

» if there was a column people waited to read every week, it was yours. famed sex-columnist, and the heart of new york city's dating scene, you give a play by play of your love life and what it all means. the readers of your column begin to notice a reoccurring character, beyond the flings and awkward second chances. will he become the main character, or are you doomed to croon about the tragic dating scene?

» author's note: this is a new series i'm staring based off this post i made! it's a 'sex and the city' based fic series. each entry is a different character from the ppcu, so each chapter will focus on a character. they will all be standalone fics, and you don't have to watch sex and the city to understand the plot. let me know your thoughts! :)

» the playlist link

⌕ old dogs, new tricks ༝ joel miller

⌕ easy come, easy go ༝ javier peña

⌕ time and punishment ༝ din djarin

⌕ plus one is the loneliest number ༝ oberyn martell

⌕ the fuck buddy ༝ frankie morales

⌕ take me out to the ballgame ༝ jack daniels

⌕ what goes around comes around ༝ marcus acacius

⌕ the baby shower ༝ reed richards

⌕ just say yes ༝ clint

⌕ coulda, woulda, shoulda ༝ lucien de leon

⌕ the domino effect ༝ javi gutierrez

⌕ out of the frying pan ༝ the epilouge

[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.

[duh-angel]

Missing you

Jack Daniels ~ Agent Whiskey x afab!reader (wc: 2.6k)

“Wish you were here right now, all of the things I'd do. I wanna get freaky on camera” — Cybersex by Doja cat

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18

Warning: Sexual tension | online sex | light voyeurism | sexual toy usage | porn with no plot | Not proofread | no use of y/n. | light praise kink | quicky

backstory: You found yourself in a particularly tiresome mission in the city of Rome. Although the work kept you occupied, it didn’t stop Jack from constantly calling you and expressing how much he misses you. One day, he sends you a special gift.

You found yourself rocking back and forth in your comfortable hotel room chair, captivated by the glorious sight of Rome through the window. The vibrant cityscape, a fusion of modernity and historic charm, held your attention so thoroughly that you could spend hours just gazing at it, if not for the fact that you were currently on a video call with your “boyfriend”, Jack.

The conversation went smoothly, the two of you chatting about your trip and how much you missed each other's company. In the midst of the conversation, Jack's voice suddenly shifted, hinting at a surprise.

"Hey sweetheart, I've got something special for you. Take a peek inside your suitcase, would ya?" 

You glanced at the leather suitcase bearing the renowned S logo, the company monogram gleaming in the center. With a hint of anticipation, you carefully opened it, revealing a box wrapped in blue. You looked back at the camera and gave him a sly smirk, silently inquiring about the mysterious gift. Your mind buzzed with curiosity, wondering what treasures lay hidden inside the deceptively small box.

"Go on, open it," Jack's voice cut through the silence, his tone dripping with mischief and anticipation.

Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at the vibrator nestled in the blue box, a blush spreading across your cheeks. The sleek, purple device seems to wink at you, promising an unforgettable evening. You could feel Jack’s eyes light up with mischief as he saw your reaction on the small screen. A roguish grin spreading across his face.

"Well beautiful, looks like Santa came early this year," he draws teasingly. "I thought you could use some company on your little trip. Why don't you give it a test run for me, hmm?" His voice drops, taking on a husky, seductive tone. "I wanna see you play with it, darlin'. Put on a little show for me."

He leans back in his chair, showcasing his bulge to your hungry eyes. One of his hands casually rested on it, making him groan softly. His brown eyes practically undressing you through the screen, making your body shiver.  "Don't be shy now.” He whispers. "Turn it on, sweetheart. Nice and slow. Let's see how loud I can make you moan from all the way over here."

The heat of your blush intensified. Hell, you felt like you were about to pass out from how overwhelmed yet turned on you were. Slowly, tentatively, you reach for the vibrator, your heart racing as you switch it on. The soft hum fills the otherwise quiet room. Your eyes widened as you felt how your hand quivered from the power of the toy, and you can't help but imagine the sensation it might bring. 

As the vibrations grow stronger in your trembling hand, Whiskey's grin widens. He watched your every move, drinking in the sight of you under his spell. "That's it, baby. Mmmm, you look so fuckin' hot right now," he groans. 

"I wish I was there with you, watching those pretty pink lips of yours wrap around that toy... But I guess this will have to do for now." He palms himself through his jeans, clearly getting off on the show. His free hand reaches for a cigar, lighting it up as he settles in to enjoy the view.

"Go on now, sweetheart. Don't keep me waiting," Whiskey urges, his voice needy with that typical hint of demand. "Bury that toy nice and deep, just like you like it. Fuck, I can almost hear those sweet little moans..."

He takes a long drag of his cigar, blowing out a plume of smoke. His eyes never leave the screen, riveted by your every move. 

You disregarded your pants and underwear in a clumsy manner, feeling almost idiotic to do this through a video call, but in a twisted way, it was filthy, raw. Jack licked his lips, his gaze smoldering with lust as your anticipating legs opened just for him. He's clearly enjoying putting you in this compromising position, eager to push your buttons and drive you wild with pleasure, even from a distance.

With a deep breath, you press the vibrator against your sex, biting your lip as the buzzing warmth sends tingles through your body. inevitably, your back arches and you let out a mix of a gasp and a moan. Your eyes quickly go to the man on the screen, enamored by the sight. 

"You're so goddamn sexy when you let yourself go like this. I love seeing you lose control for me," he praises, voice thick with lust as he chortles. "Now why don't you slip that toy in and out of that tight little pussy of yours and ride it for me? I want you to cum over and over until you can't even remember your own name." 

Whiskey pushes his chair back, legs spreading wider. The heat in his gaze burns through the screen as he waits for you to follow his filthy commands. Slowly, you grind against the toy, looking right into his brown eyes, putting on a show just for him. 

“Ah goddammit.” A loud groan of frustration escaped Jack, followed by the sound of his laptop slamming down as he abruptly ended the call. Your heart skipped a beat, pounding fiercely against your chest as you stared at the suddenly blank screen of your laptop. The sudden disconnection left you feeling both puzzled and worried, a flood of anxiety washing over you.

 The sinking feeling in your stomach grows as you process the implications of Jack's abrupt departure from the call, but before you can dwell on it further, a bright flash of light emanates from your smart glasses, momentarily blinding you. The urgent meeting notification blinks insistently, demanding your attention. In a panic, you instinctively nod, accepting the video conference without a second thought.

As the holographic display materializes before you, you realize the gravity of your oversight. In the heat of the moment, you had completely forgotten about your state of undress, the vibrator still nestled between your thighs. A wave of embarrassment washes over you as you pray that the hologram's limitations will spare you from any potential mortification.

Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, acutely aware of the toy's presence and the lingering warmth it has left on your sensitive skin. Your mind races with the possibilities of what might happen if anyone were to discover your compromising situation.

Your heart skips a beat as your gaze lands upon Jack, his flustered expression instantly setting your nerves on edge. You can practically feel his eyes boring into you from behind the holographic display, his presence both comforting and unnerving.

With a quick nod, you acknowledge his presence, trying to keep your voice steady and professional as you address him. "Agent Whiskey."

“Agent Wine.” His response, laced with a knowing smirk, makes your cheeks flush with equal parts embarrassment and excitement. 

The way he says your codename, drawing out the 'Wine' with a playful inflection, sends a jolt of electricity through your body. It's as if he's relishing in his knowledge of your compromising position. You squirm in your seat, the vibrator still nestled between your thighs, a constant reminder of your shared secret. 

The meeting drones on, a seemingly endless parade of statistics and strategic plans. Your mind struggles to keep pace, constantly drawn back to the throbbing between your thighs. You try to focus on the cold, clinical data presented, but your body betrays you, each movement a torturous reminder of the toy hidden beneath your body. 

Your eyes dart around the holographic conference table, avoiding the temptation to glance down at the source of your distraction. You know that looking at Jack will only make matters worse, his mere presence a constant tease. But in a moment of weakness, your gaze drifts to his face, colliding with those piercing brown eyes and that infuriating smirk.

A chill runs down your spine as you raise an eyebrow questioningly. Before you can utter a word, Jack's finger presses to his lips, a silent command to keep quiet. Your heart races as he reaches into his pocket, retrieving a small remote control. Without a word, he presses a button, and the vibrator springs to life, humming softly against your most sensitive flesh.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as the sudden stimulation sends shockwaves through your body. Your hands fly to the edges of your desk, gripping the wood so tightly your knuckles turn white. The vibrations pulse through you, each wave building upon the last, threatening to consume you entirely.

You bite your lip, trying desperately to stifle any further sounds. Your thighs tremble, the muscles quivering as you struggle to maintain control. The holograms flicker and dance around you, but all you can focus on is the relentless throb between your legs, the heat building steadily in your core.

“Is everything okay?” Ginger's eyes sparkled with concern and confusion as she addressed you.

You mustered a composed response, trying to maintain a steady tone. "Yes, I thought I saw a bug. Apologies."

At that moment, Tequila spoke up with a bemused smirk. "A bug? You're afraid of a tiny insect, Wine?" Whiskey chuckles darkly at Tequila's comment, his eyes never leaving yours. He leans back in his chair, a smug grin playing on his lips, clearly enjoying your struggle.

“Yes, a bug.” Your eyes narrowed, teeth gritting together as you shot a warning glare at Tequila. He quickly got the message, backing down with a knowing smile. 

You let out a silent sigh of relief, turning your attention back to the meeting. But even as you try to focus on the discussion at hand, your mind keeps drifting to Jack, to the power he holds over you in this moment. 

You are silently pleading for mercy. But his gaze remains fixed upon you, his expression one of pure, unadulterated lust. He revels in this, in the knowledge that he holds your pleasure, your very sanity, in the palm of his hand at this moment.

The minutes tick by agonizingly slowly, each second an eternity of sweet torture. You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste mingling with the sweat beading on your brow. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, your chest heaving with the effort to maintain your composure.

Finally, the meeting draws to a close. The holographic displays flicker and vanish, leaving you alone with Jack and the lingering echo of the vibrator's hum. You slump back in your chair, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your denied release.

Jack's gaze locked onto you from across the room, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Sweetheart, you did great," he remarked before adding, "but I'm afraid we have some unfinished business to take care of." 

Tossing the glasses into the bed, you called Jack again, slumping back in your chair, your body trembling with the effort of maintaining your composure.

As the video call connects, Whiskey's smirking face fills your screen, his eyes glinting with wicked delight. He leans back in his chair. "Well, hello there, darlin'," he drawls, his voice low and husky. "Looks like you're all alone now. No more prying eyes to worry about."

His gaze takes over your trembling form, taking in the sight of you sprawled out in your chair, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. You can practically feel the heat of his stare through the screen.

"I couldn't stop thinking about that little show you put on for me earlier," Whiskey continues, a predatory edge creeping into his tone. "The way you squirmed and bit your lip, trying so hard to hold back those sweet moans... Fuck, it was hot."

His free hand disappears from view for a moment, and when it reappears, it's wrapped around the thick length of his cock, stroking slowly. “You did so well" he purrs, his voice a low, seductive growl as looks at you. The way his rough voice turned into soft whimpers with each stroke sent a fresh wave of heat courses through your body. 

His other hand actively looks for the controller, turning the vibrator a level more. It’s more loud, faster and intense, hitting all the right spots in your heat. “Fuck…” You cry out, thrusting your hips into the air as you look at him. 

Your eyes drift downward, taking in the sight of his hand moving rhythmically, pumping his hardened length with slow, deliberate strokes. The knowledge that he is pleasuring himself while watching you only adds to the intensity of the moment, a heady mix of exhibitionism and voyeurism.

"Fuck yeah, just like that," he groans, palming himself harder. "You're so goddamn sexy, baby. The way you're movin' on that... Mmmm, makes me wanna bend you over and fuck you 'til you can't walk straight."

His gaze is intense, burning into you through the screen. "You like puttin' on a show for me, don't you darlin'?" Jack coos, voice low and rough with arousal. "Such a naughty thing, lettin' me watch you play with yourself. I bet you're drippin' wet right now, aren't you?"

Jack’s hand speeds up on his cock, stroking himself faster, getting off on the erotic display you're giving him. The other hand holds the controller, ready to push you over the edge at any moment.

“Just for you.” You utter, struggling to even talk as the level is torturing your pussy, barely able to keep your eyes on him. 

“Damn right it's just for me," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "You're all mine, Agent. Every inch of that sexy body belongs to me." With that he turns one, then another cruel level more. 

Your eyes roll back as the vibrations intensify, the toy mercilessly pounding into your sensitive flesh. Your body convulses, spasming uncontrollably. “Jack!” You cry out, begging him for something you’re not sure about. All you know is that the vibration is more than you can handle. 

"Sorry sweetheart. I just wanna see you lose control. Fuck that pussy 'til you're screamin' my name. Show me how much you miss my cock."

His breathing grows ragged, chest heaving with each labored breath. He's completely entranced by the sight of you, lost in the fantasy of being there with you, taking you apart with his own hands and tongue. "Goddamn, you're so fuckin' hot," he praises breathlessly. 

His words ignite something deep within you, a primal need that demands to be satiated. You arch your back, pressing the vibrator harder against your aching core as you ride the waves of sensation crashing over you. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, your chest heaving with the effort of holding back the impending release. The tension builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly until you can stand it no more.

With a cry of pure, unadulterated ecstasy, you let go, your body convulsing as the orgasm rips through you. The vibrator's hum seems to intensify, prolonging your climax, drawing out every last drop of pleasure. Through the haze of your own release, you see Jack's hand move faster, his breath coming in harsh pants as he chases his own end, whimpering your name like a prayer as he cums all over those strong, manly hands of his.

As the afterglow fades, his eyes meet yours, a wistful, almost vulnerable expression on his face. "God... Can we do this till you come back?" he asks, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

A playful smirk tugs at your lips as you lean, a mock pout forming on your face. "Someone's needy," you tease, enjoying the way his brow furrows at your words, making him look like a cute puppy.

Jack rolls his eyes, a familiar gesture that never fails to amuse you. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, but there's no heat behind his words, only a fond exasperation. “I just miss you.” 

[palioom]

a bond formed of love

summary: ecstatic about finally being married to the love of your life, Oberyn Martell, dread consumes you at the thought of consummating your marriage. will the horrible tales of first nights told to you become reality? or will they turn out to be elaborate lies?

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 11.1k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but many, many nicknames); fluff & smut; first times; wedding night; oral (m & f receiving); unprotected p in v; multiple orgasms; body worship; oberyn being the most devoted husband ever

author's notes: this one goes out to @aurasjournal who not only inspired a huge part of this but also kept pushing me to make this as long as it is. thank you so much <3

part of "the viper and the sun"

• masterlist •

Happiness. It was all that she could feel, consuming her entirely, filling every last inch of her.  Almost euphoric in nature, laughing and smiling as she moved beside him - her love, her husband.

Husband.

The sole reason why she was so happy today, unable to tear her eyes away from him, no one around her mattering in this moment. Looking even more handsome than usual, as if that was even a possibility, his dark eyes crinkling at the corner when he laughed.

Oberyn Martell, her husband.

Finally she could call him that. The love of her life had finally become her husband, making her the happiest woman, the happiest wife, in the world.

Not that she hadn’t been happy before, back when he was simply courting her, when he had asked her to marry him. She had always been happy with him at her side - he made her laugh, he entertained her, he took her out for rides into the most beautiful corners around Sunspear.

Down to the shores, into the deserts.

But she had longed to be his by title, to wear a ring which showed she was his and he was hers. 

All hers.

Just dancing with him here, moving with one another, as if they were connected somehow. As if the Gods had bound a string around them so long ago, pulling it tighter and tighter as they moved towards each other on the wide floor, empty save for them. Tighter still, until they met, his hands finding her hips with a laugh, her hands resting on his broad chest, on the beautiful robe he wore for the occasion, a pale yellow, adorned with golden suns and many intricate details stitched with golden thread.

Their lips found another, pulling them even closer together, the string so tight around them that it expelled the air from her lungs, breathless from kissing and laughing and dancing all day. 

The exhaustion creeped in slowly but surely, replacing the rushed emotions of excitement and euphoria she had been feeling.

“We should retire soon, my sweet dove.” Oberyn said when he parted from her lips, wishing he could just keep kissing her as they spun around. Eyes bright, sparkling with something she had seen often before but could not always place. 

Mischief, perhaps. Desire. 

“I wish to be with you, alone.”

She understood what he meant, a sudden nervosity replacing some of the happiness inside of her, albeit not all of it. Nothing could take this wonderful feeling from her, slowing down in their movements, slowly circling one another.

But she did feel nervous, and had felt so for a long time. 

Because just as excited as she was about finally being alone with him, to be as close to him as was humanly possible, she was just as tense about it.

She knew about his past, about how often and liberally he had taken partners. The Dornish way, all while she had waited for her future husband, had waited even when she had fallen for Oberyn. When she knew she would never love anyone else but him.

Knowing deep down in her heart and deeper still, that this wasn’t just love but that he was the partner promised to her by the Gods.

Oberyn noticed the sudden change in her, saw the emotions on her face, one hand raising to cup her cheek. She could feel the cold of the ring on his thumb as it brushed over her cheekbone. His gaze intense but gentle, their movements coming to a halt.

“What has befallen you, my dove?” He asked, feeling the need to implore what seemed to cloud her mind, unable to stand the thought of her feeling bad on their wedding day. They had both waited far too long for this. “What bothers my beautiful wife?”

His wife.

Warmth spread through her at the words, smiling up at him and shaking her head. She did not want him to worry about her.

“I am just getting tired, my love.” She replied, voice as quiet as his. “Tired but thrilled. Let us go, I wish to have you to myself.”

Leaving the festivities was more difficult than she had imagined, nervousness still sitting deep inside of her as they made their rounds, saying their goodbyes to everyone who had come. Squeezing his warm hand tightly as they went, now walking along the corridors to their new chambers.

Their shared chambers.

It only filled her chest with more tension, knowing these chambers would be where she was to reside with him for the rest of their lives. 

What an odd thought, to leave her childhood rooms behind to find her life with Oberyn.

They did not speak as they walked, his touch doing all the talking through squeezing her hand, caressing the back of it with his thumb. His head turned to look at her with a smile so soft and loving that she could cry from joy, reciprocating it as they walked.

His smile always managed to ease her nerves, and she wished he could smile at her forever somehow. To capture it in a way that she could carry it with her, able to look at it when she was in a foul mood.

Perhaps she could ask the woman who had done their wedding portrait today if she could paint them again, and make a small copy of him for her to carry inside a locket of some sort.

So she could open it and look at his beautiful smile at all times.

She was so in thought, she didn’t notice that they had reached the huge double door, opening them while still holding her hand tightly in his, only reluctantly letting go of it once the doors had closed behind them.

Oberyn watched her take in the large room, their room. 

The big, four poster bed draped in the finest dark red and orange silks and linens, curtains hanging off of it which would shroud them in a sense of privacy. 

The doors leading to a spacious balcony, letting them look out into the sky from their bed. The cushions and chairs in one corner by the bookshelves and strewn throughout the room which was lit with various candles, a vanity at the other side, near the door that led to their private bath. 

Walls decorated with tapestry and rugs. It all felt intimate and warm and welcoming.

She would be happy to live here with him.

“I hope everything is to your liking, my love.” Oberyn said behind her, making her jump a little as she hadn’t heard him walking up to her. Silent like a viper. “I am sure you will give it your touch in due time.”

Her eyes found the telescope standing by the door to the balcony, the books in the shelves including thick volumes about topics she loved. 

All attentively picked by him.

The sweetest gift, his love apparent just by how he had asked the room to be decorated.

His fingers touched her waist when she nodded, her view suddenly blocked by his wide chest as he came to stand in front of her.

“I love it, Oberyn.” She said with a smile. Voice small, so unlike herself.

He smiled back, the gentlest, most loving smile, his hands wandering up her side, slowly and carefully, as if she could break if he was just any faster in his movements. Seeing her slight tremble, hearing it in her voice as she spoke, suddenly so quiet. 

She wasn’t quiet and timid usually, not afraid to give him a piece of her mind, so this worried him, cupping her cheek with one hand, her nervous eyes finding his. 

His eyes became questioning in turn, his thumb stroking along her cheekbone.

“What is ailing you, my dove?” Oberyn asked, so gently that it made her heart burst, making her feel bad suddenly. “Tell me, my sweet.”

The sigh that left her was heavy, loaded with a burden which hurt him to hear. She didn’t deserve to be burdened, no matter what it was, and he did not wish to see her upset, see her nervous and quiet. 

Deserving to be carefree and loud and happy. With him to carry her burdens for her.

“I- I am scared, my Viper.” She admitted, her hands coming to rest on his chest, her gaze casting down as she couldn’t bear looking at him, afraid of what emotion his face would display. “You know I have never… I am simply nervous.”

A compassionate smile curved his lips upward, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling back. 

The hand on her cheek came up to the crown in her hair, carefully untangling it before he placed it on a table next to them. It shimmered in the lights of the candles, the gold and the jewels embedded in it, all for her.

“You do not have to be scared, my sweet dove.” He said, his knuckles running over her cheek. Still gentle and careful, his new wife being the most precious thing in his life at this moment, besides the daughters he already had. “I will show you nothing but tenderness, there will not be anything done that you do not explicitly wish to happen.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she tried to slow her heart, thrumming away in her chest. A tempest of emotions settled within her.

How had she gotten so lucky with him?

“I know, Oberyn. I know, but-” She took a deep breath, trembling. “I am still so scared. I have been told it hurts, it is uncomfortable and… I apologize, my love.”

His brows furrowed, two of his fingers moving under her chin, tilting it upwards. Making her look at him, he saw the fear etched into her features, his heart breaking at the sight.

No one had prepared her properly. She had been told nightmares and nothing more than that. It hurt him, seeing the love of his life so scared. Scared of him, of what he could do to her.

Things which were supposed to be joyous only but had been tainted and marred by the tales told to her.

“There is a possibility of it hurting, my dove. That is, if we rush things.” He said, his voice quiet, soothing. Like a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her safe. “Yet, I do not wish to rush things. We do not have to consummate our marriage tonight, not in the traditional sense.”

Now her brows furrowed in confusion, her fingers running over the embroidery of his robe, feeling the golden thread. She wasn’t sure if his words unnerved her more or soothed her.

What other way was there? He was to take her, to validate their marriage.

Just like everyone had told her a husband would on their first night together.

“What other way? Won’t our marriage be invalid if we do not-” She paused, swallowing hard as tears welled up in her eyes. The pressure of it, their marriage and being good for him, when he has had many partners before, it was terrifying. “If you do not take me?”

He smiled, loving and encouraging as always when he looked at her. Melting under her gaze, her tears tearing at him and his heart.

It was a special sort of pain, to see one's wife with tears in her eyes. A pain unlike any physical one he had ever endured.

“There are many ways to pleasure, and I will not take you if you are scared. This is as much about you as it is about me, my love.” Oberyn said, bowing his head to kiss away the few tears which were rolling down her cheeks, the saltiness of them a displeasure for him tonight. “I will wait until you are ready, and if it takes all eternity to do so.”

She took another shuddering breath. How was he so calm about this? Talking about waiting until all eternity while the guilt of being too scared to give herself to him weighed heavily on her.

Not even his lips on her wet cheeks could help soothe her in this moment.

“But, Oberyn- Isn’t it your right? Isn’t it a husband’s right?” She asked, her voice thick with tears. “To take his new wife, to consummate their marriage, willing or not?”

The smile faded from his face, his expression turning stern suddenly. Only terrifying her more, thinking she had misstepped, had angered him somehow.

She had never wanted to anger the Viper.

“My dove.” He spoke, his voice firm but not cruel, conveying an importance to what he was saying. “Fuck whatever you assume to be my right. I did not marry you to fuck you, my sweet dove. I married you because I love you and my only command as your husband is to banish these thoughts of old customs from your mind.”

Raising his brow, he looked at her, so scared and small in front of him, her bottom lip quivering.

“I am not a brute. If you are too scared tonight, then I will not force you. Nor any night hereafter.”

Her hand reached out to touch his cheek, feeling the scratch of his beard against her palm. So handsome, so sweet. Such a stark contrast to his reputation in the Seven Kingdoms, the Red Viper. Cruel, cunning.

“But- My Viper-”

Oberyn shushed her, gentle and quiet but not lacking in firmness.

“No, my dove.” His lips found her forehead again, hoping to convey his love and his understanding through the caress of his lips. Soft and tender. “If you allow me to, I wish to show you something different. To ease you into pleasure, to ease you into me.”

She hesitated, biting her bottom lip again, feeling his calming presence soothe her nerves. As he always did, so expertly taking away her worries as if they were nothing.

“What do you wish to show me?” Her voice was as quiet as his, still shaking as she spoke.

Oberyn smiled against her skin, finding the faintest sliver of amusement in her innocence. What a wonderful thing she was, his wife. So willing and devoted and in love with him, but entirely unknowing.

Any man of less honour than him would have taken advantage of her sweetness.

But not him.

His hand went from her chin to her waist, pulling her just a little bit closer to him while his lips stayed connected to her forehead.

“Do you trust me?”

She nodded, the reaction so fast as if it was innate, like there was no doubt about her answer. And she did, she trusted him with everything.

“With my life, Oberyn.”

His lips curved upward against her skin, his fingers curling into her side. 

What a lucky man he was, to have married a woman like her.

“Sit down on the bed for me, please.” He said, feeling her hesitation at his gentle words. 

Taking a moment to steel herself, she took another deep breath before walking away from him, just a little unsure in her footing.

Still, she made it over, sitting down on the edge of the huge bed just like he requested, the silks smooth under her hands. She watched how he followed her, slow, deliberate steps, feeling a tenseness in her abdomen at the sight of him. His gorgeous smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle, coming to stop right in front of her.

Instinctively she reached for his hand, just lightly holding onto it, needing reassurance, encouragement. The motion only made him smile more, squeezing her fingers as he slowly kneeled down in front of her.

He couldn’t hold back the chuckle which left him when he looked at her surprised face, shaking her head.

“What are you doing? You shouldn’t-” She stammered out, confused by his actions. What husband kneeled before his wife? On their wedding night no less. “Shouldn’t I be the one-”

Oberyn slowly shook his head, raising her hand to his lips, giving each knuckle a kiss, dark eyes fixed only on her. His unoccupied hand touched her clothed thigh, making her jump just a little, her eyes never leaving his. 

Like they were bound to him in some way.

“If I wish to kneel before my wife to show my devotion to her, then I shall do so.” He said, his voice calming her nerves, just like his lips did, turning her hand in his, kissing the tip of each finger. Each kiss lingering, an extension of his love for her. 

Moving to her palm, eyes staying fixed on hers as his lips pressed against it, his beard tickling her.

She enjoyed it, watching in awe how attentive he was, feeling warm at his touch.

Then, he leaned forward, capturing her lips with his own and she could feel the desire sleeping within him, holding back for her sake. She allowed herself to close her eyes and simply feel him, aware of his hand on her clothed thigh, the other intertwining their fingers, an anchor for her.

Carefully his lips wandered away from her mouth, kissing the corner of it, then peppering her jaw with fleeting touches, finally reaching her neck. 

The gasp that tumbled from the depths of her chest as he made contact with the sensitive flesh excited him, the sound something he wished to preserve forever.

“Oberyn.” She whimpered, shifting in her place when his tongue darted out to taste her, breathing in the scent of oranges which always lingered with her.

A smile graced his lips, enjoying that she was easing into his ministrations, perhaps even enjoying herself as he caressed her skin.

“Do I have permission to undress you?” Oberyn asked after several more moments, pulling back to look at her face, finding it flushed and her eyes still closed.

The nervousness which had faded a little under his touch came back suddenly, turning her stomach into knots. 

Undress her.

Seeing her naked, completely exposed. When he had been with so many others before her, would he even like what he saw?

She wasn’t self-conscious by any means, but in comparison to his life before her, she could not help but think about the possibilities. Being inexperienced in pleasure already weighed heavily on her shoulders, she didn’t wish to disappoint him in just about everything tonight.

He could see the emotions cross her face, her eyes spoke of all the uncertainty and fear that whirled inside of her at this moment when she opened them. 

And it broke his heart. 

His beautiful, stunning wife, chained up by the expectations which had been placed upon her shoulders by everyone but him.

There was nothing he expected from her, already knowing she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid his dark eyes upon, the most kind and loving wife. All he would ask of her was to stay loyal to him and to love him like he loved her, with all her heart and mind and soul. Like they were bound by fate.

Bound by an invisible string which had led them to one another.

She softly squeezed his hand, taking a deep breath before nodding. Forcing the smallest smile onto her lips, small compared to the one he gifted her in return.

The hand on her thigh moved up to her shoulder, brushing back the hair which had fallen over it, then letting his fingertips wander over the material of her gown. Soft silks, embroidered and beaded with hundreds of thousands of small stones.

Making her shimmer in the candlelight, like a million stars were strewn across her body.

Never losing her eyes when he brushed one strap off of her shoulder, watching for a reaction that she didn’t want this. There was no joy in this if she wasn’t willing.

He let it glide down her arm, not yet exposing her breasts to him, simply letting the swell of one appear in the periphery of his view. Soft skin, the whisper of a sigh leaving her when he leaned forward to kiss her exposed collarbone, to press his nose against the dip above it.

Still holding onto her hand, her fingers nervously flexing against his own as he moved on to the other side, slower this time.

The beat of her heart was visible, shaking the pretty material over where it sat, hoping he would be able to make it beat as wildly for another reason soon.

And as he carefully slid the material off her other shoulder too, she took a shuddering breath looking up at the ceiling. The cool air meeting her heated flesh, nipples perked.

Oberyn repeated his earlier motion, kissing the other side but this time moving down to press his lips against the valley in between her breasts. A low hum vibrated in her chest and he could feel the noise, kissing her again and again.

“You are so beautiful, my dove.” He said, looking up at her but seeing her gaze turned away. Unable to tell if it were simply her nerves or shame. “May I touch you?”

Silence befell them for a moment as she tried to calm herself. His words were encouraging, her heart soaring and the gentleness with which he treated her made her want to cry.

She could feel his lips on her still, like she had been branded by him, hot and searing. A good feeling, a welcome one.

Longing for his touch but still too afraid to speak, her skin yearning for his lips, for his fingers. Yearning for every inch of him, still wondering just what exactly he had in mind for tonight.

“Yes.” She breathed out, shaky and barely audible even in the dead silence.

Then his hands were on her, softly cupping her breasts, feeling the velvety skin of them. Admiring them, his thumbs brushing over the peaks, making her moan quietly. She tilted her head down, taking in the way he looked at her.

With a desire she had never seen in anyone before, mesmerized and needing, but not making her feel like an object for his desires.

He made her feel like art. Like a beautiful painting.

A slight pressure built in her abdomen as his thumbs rubbed over her nipples again and again, an unfamiliar feeling she blamed on his touch. It was pleasant, watching in awe as he bowed his head to take one stiff peak into his mouth. Hot and wet on her skin, her free hand twisting into his hair, a shaky gasp leaving her.

“Oh, Oberyn.” She moaned, concentrating on his tongue repeating the motion of his thumb, a deep groan of his vibrating against her. “It feels good, fantastic. You feel fantastic.”

He looked up at her, not stopping his ministrations but a twinkle appeared in his dark eyes. She rubbed her thighs together, a motion which didn’t go unnoticed by Oberyn, finally releasing her breast with a soft pop. Surging upwards to capture her lips in another kiss, fiery this time but reigning himself in as he felt himself move too fast.

“You’re feeling it, are you not?” He asked, parting from her and staring deep into her eyes. “Pleasure, my dove?”

“I’m not sure, Oberyn.” She replied, his kiss having left her a little breathless, her head reeling. “There is a pressure…”

A soft chuckle fell from his lips, a smile stretching his mustache wide over his lips, revealing his teeth. 

“Right here?” He touched her abdomen, right where the feeling appeared and she nodded. No one had ever thought to teach her a damn thing about herself. “Yes, my dove. Pleasure. Do I have permission to undress you further? I wish to give you more of this feeling.”

Her nod was eager this time, easing into his touch. It filled him with joy, pressing another kiss to her lips which made her giggle.

Oh, how he loved that sound.

“Lay down for me, my sweet.”

She did, their hands finally letting go of each other as she laid back, immediately finding his lips to be back on her sternum, kissing a path further down between her breasts, onto her stomach. Revealing more of her skin as he went.

Peeling the garment off of her like he would with a fruit, revealing the sweet flesh, tasting it, feeling it beneath his fingers.

Feeling her shaky breaths as he lingered over her stomach, her muscles twitching under the caress of his lips.

He lifted her hips, pulling the dress down the rest of the way, letting it fall to the floor. Exposing her entirely to him, his lips pressing against that spot on her lower belly where she felt the pressure building.

Her heart beat in her throat, fighting the urge to cover herself with her hands, knowing he would just move them away. His own hands smoothed along her naked thighs, watching her face as she looked at the ceiling, lips slightly parted.

“You were made in the Gods’ image, my love.” He whispered, letting his lips trail back up her body, feeling himself become drunk on her body, on her beauty. To think she had feared this, feared showing herself to him when she truly was the most beautiful being he had ever laid his eyes on. “No beauty compares to that of yours.”

She smiled, a sound the cross of a sob and a huff tumbling over her lips, overwhelmed by his love for her. Melting into his lips as they found hers yet again, like he couldn’t get enough of her, of the taste of wine and fruit on her tongue.

Suddenly she thought about him, still fully dressed. Shouldn’t she make him feel as good as this, too? Cover his body in kisses, worship him like he worshipped her?

She was curious to see him, wondered if he bore scars. How big they were, how deep. She wanted to see him, longed for it.

Her hands wandered to the hem of his robe, attempting to undress him but he stopped her. Gently taking her wrists in his large hands, he moved them away, shaking his head.

“My Viper-” She began in an attempt to explain before he shushed her again.

“Tonight is about you, my Princess.” Oberyn said, kissing the corner of her mouth. A small whimper escaped her, her lips chasing after his when he moved back again. “You and your pleasure only. I told you, I can wait until all eternity.”

He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, hoping to get her to understand just through his eyes that his words weren’t empty promises. As he breathed with her, one calming breath after the next, he hoped she understood that he would wait a lifetime and beyond for her to be fully ready. Her pleasure alone would be enough to sustain him until the sun had shared its last rays with the world, until the world grew cold and dark.

“I wish to touch more of you, my love.” Oberyn whispered into the silence, his hands moving to her hips. “Will you allow me to?”

She nodded, more firm than at the beginning, feeling a throbbing between her thighs, an unfamiliar wetness.

“Yes, my Viper.” A whisper just as quiet as his, her eyes full of desire, even if he could still see remnants of fear in them.

Oberyn brushed the bridge of his nose along hers, an intimate gesture which made her heart burst with love and joy. Hands coming up to cup his cheeks just for a moment before he slipped away again, down her body.

Calloused hands rested on her knees, his eyes on her face as she sat up slightly, leaning onto her elbows to watch him. She bit her bottom lip, his hands slowly opening her legs, gentle and sweet in his movements.

He kissed the inside of one knee when she was fully spread for him, once again resisting the urge to close them. His beard scratched along the sensitive skin, moving to the other knee as well.

It felt good, the way he kissed her skin, the way his beard felt on the sensitive flesh. How his hands smoothed over her thighs as he inched higher, lifting his head again.

One of his hands moved upwards, ghosting over her mound and feeling the coarse curls covering it, feeling the shiver that went up her spine at the featherlight touch. He watched as he gently spread her lips apart for him, glistening from the wetness that had gathered. 

His thumb just hovered over her clit, like he was unsure. All while she watched, holding her breath in anticipation of where he would touch her next, each touch better than the last.

“Have you ever touched yourself before?” Oberyn asked, eyes moving back up to hers. Knowing fully well that she would answer with a No. She was too responsive to his ministrations to have done so before. “Right here?”

His thumb pressed down, featherlight, like a ghost, drawing a choked gasp from her, her hips involuntarily rolling in response.

It was as if lightning had shot through her, setting her nerves ablaze at his touch. Her skin hot, she felt like she was burning up from the inside, the pressure in her abdomen only becoming worse.

“N-No.” She breathed out. Already longing for more of his touch. Needing more of that buzzing feeling it provided, pulsing faintly where his thumb rested.

His thumb swiped lower, gathering a little more wetness before ghosting over that little peak of nerves again. Carefully, trying not to overwhelm her with these new emotions, coaxing a low moan from her lungs.

It might just become his favourite sound, a sweet symphony sung only for him in this shared intimacy. Sweeter than the choirs which had sung at their marriage celebration which just now seemed so long ago already. Sweeter than the birds, than the bustle of the markets, than the rolling of the sea.

He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, kissing the inside of it as he lazily rubbed his thumb over her, watching her reactions. Her eyes were dark with nothing but lust and curiosity, only fixed on his moving digit. She tried to hold back more sounds, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her heart still thrumming against it for reasons he liked now.

No longer out of fear but out of desire.

“How does it feel, my dove?” Oberyn whispered against her skin, pressing more wet kisses against it, the hand holding her leg caressing it while his thumb moved away from her clit. Instead, it traced her outer lips, which still made her hips jerk and roll but provided a more subdued sensation. “Tell me all, I wish to know what it feels like for you.”

Her eyes snapped up to his when his thumb moved away, a whiny noise of protest leaving her.

Desperation on her face.

“It feels good, Oberyn.” She whispered, the leg over his broad shoulder trying to coax him to continue. “You feel marvellous. My blood has been replaced by molten metal, I can feel it burning and throbbing.”

Oberyn smirked, lightly nipping at her skin. “Your cunt?”

Watching her discomfort at the word, he chuckled but saw her nod still.

The urge to taste her overcame him abruptly, the urge which had been his plan when she told him she was too scared to have him tonight. Knowing he could show her the heights of pleasure on the tip of his tongue, ease her into it entirely.

“My love, you said you would trust me with your life, did you not?” He asked, keeping his eyes locked onto hers. She nodded again, whispering a shaky Yes. “Please, lay back and close your eyes, I wish to surprise you.”

Her brows knitted together, having half a mind to do as he asked and not beg for more of his touch. Laying back down and closing her eyes, anticipation frightening her but trusting him in whatever he had planned.

It took a moment, a moment in which she heard him shift around, his tunic rustling, feeling him move.

And then, she felt it. Warm and wet against her, his beard scratching against her most intimate parts, her legs threatening to close at the foreign sensation but his broad hands keeping them open.

“Fu- Oh Gods, Oberyn!” She cried out, his tongue circling around her clit again and again, wet, slurping noises accompanying his motions. One of her hands threaded into his hair for purchase, not daring to open her eyes and look at him.

He hummed against her, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, eyes trained on her parted lips, face twisted in lust.

“Say it.” He commanded, finding it amusing that she did not fully give into her desires in favour of appearing proper. What was there to be proper about when he had his face buried inside her sopping cunt? “Say it, my dove.”

Her back arched, feeling him suck at the bundle of nerves which made her cry out once more.

“Fuck!” She moaned, liking how the word rolled off her tongue. “Oberyn, fuck! Oh, Gods.”

A smile crept over his lips, doubling down on his efforts, feeling her fingers tighten in his dark locks. Focusing entirely on her clit, eating her like a man starved all while he looked out for her body’s response.

She could feel something inside of her, the pressure mounting more and more as her whines and moans turned higher in pitch, his tongue driving her closer to something. And he could feel it, holding down her hips in order to lap at her, the obscene sounds in stark contrast to the gentleness with which he pressed against her.

Opening her eyes, she looked at him, the sight making her cunt clench. His head between her thighs, with a stare of lust and determination, his eyes dark and piercing. 

It was a beautiful image.

Maybe she should have this painted instead.

“Let go, my dove.” He whispered, his voice slightly muffled by her, feeling himself hard against his breeches but biting back his own desires for her. Just this was better than the Seven Heavens, he was sure of it. Nothing would be sweeter than this, to bring her to the brink of pleasure and push her over for the very first time. “Let it take you, let it wash over you and just allow yourself to feel me.”

She did. Her body tensing up and expelling all air from her lungs, the cries of his name broken on her tongue as she tried to make sense of the intense feeling surging through her. The pressure releasing, her legs snapped shut around his head again but this time he did not stop her. 

Oberyn wanted to see the full extent of her ecstasy, remember every sound, every little movement of her muscles beneath her skin as she shook.

Needed to memorize her expression as he brought her to completion.

He saw the tears in her eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling of him, of the rush inside of her.

She felt dizzy as it faded, as he slowed down his movements until he had fully helped her through it all, pressing gentle, wet kisses against her mound and lower belly, feeling how her deep breaths let it rise and fall.

“More, please, more.” She whispered into the silence after a few moments. Quiet and breathless, his ears perking up at the sound.

Intoxicated by the way his mouth had worked her to completion, by how good it had felt. There was an understanding in her now, for why he had sought out pleasure for all these years before they had found one another.

She never wanted this to end, craving more of him, more of their unity. 

“Ah, my wife is a greedy one, I see.” Oberyn chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I will give you more, my love. My wife shall have everything, I shall give you all you want for - gowns, jewellery, pleasure. I shall spoil you rotten.”

“You already do.” She moaned, his mouth back on her, hissing at the slight sting she felt. “Fuck, you do, Oberyn. You do!”

This time, his tongue wandered lower, and she threw her head back into the sheets at the feeling of his talented tongue licking around her pulsing, aching hole before he pushed inside. His nose bumped against her clit, the wet, vulgar sounds becoming louder. 

Lapping at her like a thirsty man would drink from an oasis in the desert. Like she was the life to sustain him, to keep him breathing.

He groaned against her in an unabashed fashion, letting his pleasure from this be known, mingling into the perfect symphony with her cries.

That sweet pleasure coursed through her, letting tears well up in her eyes as she tried to breathe, trying to form words in between her incoherent sounds.

Delirious and intoxicated.

“Oberyn, please! I’m-” She couldn’t finish her sentence, ecstasy stealing her breath away as he expertly pushed her over again, her hands pushing and pulling at his hair. Too much, too much and yet it was just right, riding wave after wave that crashed into her, washed over her.

Her hips bucked up against him, chasing his mouth as he pulled back, giving her some reprieve, hungrily kissing along her inner thigh with a groan.

“I knew you would enjoy this, my love.” He growled, nipping at her skin with his teeth and making her squeak. There was nothing more he wanted than to be buried inside of her right now, he couldn’t deny that. But he wouldn’t, instead planning to wear her out so thoroughly with his mouth that all of her worries would simply ease away. “My sweet, wonderful wife.”

So he kissed up her thigh to her knee, letting his lips wander over every inch of her, then venturing further over her calf. 

“I do, my Viper. I do.” She whispered, each kiss sending a jolt through her. Until now she couldn’t have fathomed anything to be so intense and all consuming as this. To make her feel like she was on a cloud, drifting away while her new husband worshipped her.

“I am not through with you yet. You will feel the heights of pleasure tonight, I have promised you as such.”

And before long, his mouth found her core again, coaxing another orgasm from her, her voice turning hoarse as she whispered his name over and over like he was one of the Gods. 

Maybe he was. 

With the way he moved about her body, his hands wandering and feeling while his tongue worked her up to another peak and another.

Holding true on his promises and leaving her spent when he finally decided that she had experienced enough bliss. The candles around them long burned down, shrouding them in darkness, illuminated by the faint moonlight.

Oberyn left her boneless on the bed, eyes closed and breathing hard, she drifted in and out of the comforts of sleep, faintly feeling his strong hands manoeuvre her under the covers.

“Oberyn…” She mumbled, hearing him shush her like he had done so often this night. The bed dipped beside her, his heavy form laying next to her body, pulling her close.

Still feeling like she was floating, embraced by his warmth, the happiness from earlier this night returning. His lips pressed against hers, so tender and gentle as if he hadn’t just taken her apart with only his tongue.

“Sleep, my dove. My sweet, wonderful and kind wife.” He whispered, kissing her forehead as she slowly drifted into slumber. Gratefulness and love sat deep inside her chest as she did. “There will be much more to discover. So much more.”

She woke before the sun had risen, her body aching in the most delicious ways as she moved. Oberyn’s arms still embraced her, turning around in his grasp to look at his peaceful form. 

Her husband. 

It still felt like a dream, too good to be true. Even though his strong arms around her body and his handsome face right in front of her reminded her that it was in fact real. She could still feel his hands on her body, etched into her skin like a mark. A mark she would be happy to wear until all eternity.

Her gentle fingers found the bridge of his nose, brushing over it, taking in his features. Thinking about the sight of him between her thighs, worshipping her.

How he had lapped at her, like a thirsty, starving man who had found his paradise between her legs, finally finding it after a seemingly endless journey. Drinking from her to sustain himself, taking as much as he was giving, making said paradise blossom.

She felt warm at the thought, her fingers wandering over his tanned cheek. Never had she seen him like this and she found it strange to see him without his smirk when in her presence. Always smiling, making her laugh.

Breathing in and out at a steady pace. This would be the face which would greet her until all eternity, she realized. The arms which would hold her every night, his warm, firm body pressed against hers, still clothed unlike hers. A welcome image, making her smile wider as she brushed some hair from his forehead.

“My Viper.” She whispered, leaning forward to kiss him, first on the tip of his nose, then his lips. Soft beneath hers, his beard tickling her skin.

Desire awoke in her again at the touch, the vivid feelings from last night at the forefront of her mind. His arms wrapped around her tighter, startling her as he tiredly kissed her back, awoken by her featherlight touch.

Caressing her, chuckling quietly when she drew back. His dark eyes were so beautiful, piercing even when laced with sleep. The most beautiful eyes she had ever seen, full of love and admiration for her.

“My dove, my sweet wife.” He sighed, one of his hands smoothing over her bare hip, moving to her bottom.

Squeezing it gently and making her gasp.

Fanning the flames within her, humming deeply at his ministrations. She thought about his mouth, how he had used it on her, wondering if she could do the same for him.

She wanted to, a strange eagerness to pleasure him overtaking her, her hand wandering to the opening in his robe, feeling his warm, bare chest beneath.

The thought of consummating their marriage seemed more acceptable at this moment, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to fully give into the idea just yet.

Oberyn saw the look in her eyes, recognizing it in an instant. How often he had seen this exact gaze in others, how often had it preceded the most wonderful sensations. Yet here, with her, it made him proud, made him more hungry than it ever had made him before.

Despite that, concern mixed into his excitement. She had been so scared last night, inexperienced and her head filled with terrible tales. The emotion in her eyes seemed real, but he couldn’t help but be worried.

“I wish to give back to you, Oberyn.” She whispered, her hand wandering lower, resting on his covered belly. The tips of their noses were touching, eyes locked onto another. “You made me feel the most incredible sensations, and I wish to pleasure you. Let me use my mouth like you used yours.”

His heart skipped a beat at her words, surprised by her sudden boldness. He had always known that her soul simply needed a gentle nudge to bloom and come alive. That the fierceness he saw in her every day extended into far more facettes of her being.

It was as if a new spirit had taken over her, leaving her more confident. 

“Please, Oberyn. I wish to give to you what you gave to me.” She whispered intently when he hesitated, still scared of the actual act itself, but more than willing to reciprocate his love and devotion the way he had shown it to her.

“My dove, this is about you, not me.” He whispered back, cupping her cheek in his large palm. Rough and calloused from years of training, years of fighting. “I cannot allow this in any good faith.”

“Please.”

The way she looked at him, so eager and determined. How could he say no? She wanted this, even if he wanted these glorious morning hours to be devoted to her only. Devoted to the beginning of their life together, the sun only starting to show the top of its face in the far distance of the horizon.

“Promise me that this wish is not borne out of any obligation you feel towards me.” Oberyn said, needing to rule out that the loving, kind spirit of her being drove her actions instead of her own desire. “This is borne from you, your own heart.”

She nodded, whispering a small Yes back in answer to his question. 

He sighed, kissing her forehead with an affirmative hum. Feeling the excitement grow within him, his cock twitching at the thought of her mouth.

What a wonderful wife he had.

But as he watched her naked body emerge from beneath the covers, his brows furrowed, seeing her move to the side of the bed, attempting to slide off of it.

Oberyn grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks and she looked up at him, confused. Looking so beautiful, with the sun slowly painting the skies behind her a beautiful purple, driving away the darkness. Her hair tousled, shallow lines on her face from sleep.

“What are you doing, my dove?” He asked, sitting up.

Her brows knit together in confusion, mirroring his gaze.

“Getting on my knees, just like you did, Oberyn.” She answered, genuine about her intentions. Watching him shake his head, pulling her towards him.

“No.” He replied, looking at her intently. “I won’t allow you to. My wife will not kneel before me.”

“But, Oberyn-” Her attempt to argue was squashed by the look he gave her.

“I am to worship you, kneel before you on the floor to show you my devotion, to show you pleasure.” Oberyn said, looking at her kneeling on the bed in front of him. She seemed more demure again suddenly, more timid. But the lust still blazed in her eyes. “Far too many wives expect it to be their place, on the floor in front of their husbands. Not you. You will not kneel on the floor today, my dove.”

Her heart warmed at his words, smiling and leaning forward to kiss him, her hands wandering to the thin robe he still wore. His words touched her, so thoughtful of meanings she hadn’t even thought about yet.

She wanted to kneel before him, just as he had done the night before, but she cared deeply for his words.

Slowly she opened his robe as she kissed him, letting her hands wander over his toned chest, down to the soft swell of his stomach. Touching and exploring like he had, her lips mirroring the paths he had painted onto her not too long ago, kissing down his jaw, to that point which had felt so good on her, below his ear.

Revelling in the way his breath hitched when she ventured down further, kissing every inch of him.

In the way his hands threaded into her hair, moving it out of her gorgeous face to watch her.

“You are a fast learner, my dove.” He chuckled and she felt the vibrations ripple through him. A smile broke on her face, feeling encouraged by him, by the way he touched her, the way he loved her.

“I am, am I not?” She giggled, sitting back up when she had reached his navel, the patch of dark hair which travelled into his breeches. Sitting back on her legs, she admired him for a moment, his tan skin glowing in the faintest orange from the rising sun, his beautiful body on display for her, almost as naked as she was.

Littered with scars like she had thought him to be, both small and large in size, some deep and some shallow. Faint and bold, her finger tracing along some of them.

Looking like one of the Gods. Made in their image.

“You look beautiful, Oberyn.” She whispered, her hands wandering to the strings on his breeches, needing to see what lay beneath them. The outline of him was prominent, leaving little to the imagination. “May I?”

He smiled, leaning forward to gently capture her lips with his own. One of his hands smoothed up her arm, feeling her nerves well up again. Attempting to calm her.

“Of course, my dove.”

She smiled, rubbing the bridge of her nose along his just as he had done, her shaky fingers untying the string. Peeling back the dark fabric, she couldn’t hold back the gasp that left her lungs at the sight of him, springing free.

She had been right to be scared, to be nervous and while she felt a strange desire at the sight of his cock, angry and leaking, she couldn’t help but feel nervous all over again.

Oberyn just watched, slowly leaning back once more, her fingers trailing through the dark, coarse hair at the base. Just letting her explore on her own, hissing softly when she touched him, featherlight as if she was unsure.

Soft like velvet, throbbing and bouncing. The dark tip glistened with something. 

She ran her finger over the prominent vein at the underside, then drew back, deciding to take his trousers off entirely first. Needing him fully exposed like she was, she tugged them down his legs, revealing his toned thighs and calves, hardened from years of training.

Like the Gods.

Wrapping her hand around him, she looked up to his face, seeing the intense gaze of his as he watched her fingers before his dark eyes met her own. Upon seeing the uncertainty in her, Oberyn gave her an encouraging smile, her touch setting him on fire unlike anyone had ever done before.

“You’re doing well, love. Keep going.” He said, his heart fluttering at her smile, his legs opening a bit wider. “Just move your hand, if you wish.”

She nodded, doing as he said. Leaning down to take him in her mouth, she was stopped by his hand on her shoulder.

“You best lay down on your belly for that.” He suggested, his voice growing thinner. This woman would rob him of his last sanity and he hadn’t even felt her properly just yet. “It will be easier on your body and I will be able to see your face, my love.”

“Oh.” She replied, the simple sound making him chuckle. Shifting into position between his opened legs, feeling awkward as she did. He beckoned her closer, helping her so her arms were positioned over his hips, her elbows resting on the sheets.

So close to him, her hot breath fanning over his sensitive skin. The hunger clear in her eyes as his cock was right in front of her, still gripped by nervousness. 

Ducking her head, she pressed small kisses against his belly, then over his hip bones. Peering up at him through her lashes only to find him fixated on her, his hand coming up to gather her hair in a loose grip, just to get it out of the way. Watching how she teased him, his aching cock brushing along her cheek, trying to tame his hips which were squirming in anticipation.

Excruciatingly slow she moved back a little, lifting her head and taking him into one hand again. Oberyn’s breathing became heavier, seeing her lips descend and press against the head of his cock, like she was kissing it. Her tongue darted out, licking over the slit and grimacing a little at the taste of the pre-cum.

He couldn’t help the chuckle, warm and without malice, making her smile and giggle in return.

“Salty.” She remarked curiously, then resumed kissing him. Over and over, pressing her soft lips against the head, trailing them down the length of it. Just following what she thought was right, peering up at him now and then as if to ask for encouragement.

She moved so deliberately and gently that it looked like she was worshipping him. Worshipping his aching cock while laying in between his legs. Making his blood boil hotter than the sun, mesmerized by the sight of her.

“What a sight you are, my sweet dove.” He breathed out, fingers running along her scalp as she moved back up to the head. “My sweet wife. You are doing so well, simply keep kissing it.”

She felt warmth spread through her at the praise, the pressure in her abdomen returning. 

But this was about him.

“Does it feel good?” She whispered in between kisses, letting her tongue dart out again, giving the sensitive tip the tiniest lick.

“Divine.” He moaned, the sight of her too much. She looked beautiful, her contours slowly being bathed in orange hues as the sun rose higher. “You may take it into your wonderful mouth, my dove. If you wish.”

She nodded, doing as he said, opening her mouth just a little to take in the head, already feeling heavy on her tongue. Did she just move her tongue now as he had done with her? 

Or should she take more of him?

She decided on moving her tongue, licking at the head and experimentally sucking on it like he had on her clit, the deep groan that left him making her feel proud. Proud to be able to give back what he had shown her last night.

“By the old Gods and the new, nothing will feel more divine than this, my dove.” Oberyn moaned, his fingers twitching in her hair, clearly trying to hold back. Unwilling to scare her away, just letting her explore as she saw fit. “You feel wonderful, so wonderful. My cock on your tongue, what a sight.”

She took more of him, gently bobbing her head, knowing she was doing right when he kept making those wonderful sounds above her. Groaning and moaning with every movement, ecstasy overtaking his body.

Her own, private melody, her own song.

She wanted to hear more of it, becoming more eager, more assured with her movements, lifting her head to kiss it again, her hand spreading the saliva over what she couldn’t fit into her mouth, stroking him. Liking what she was doing, the heavy feeling of when he was in her mouth, her desire growing by the second but wanting to see what pleasure looked like for him. What his face would look like when he reached the heights that she had at the mercy of his mouth.

And as she continued, alternating between kissing him and bobbing her head on him, she didn’t feel scared or nervous anymore. She wanted him, needed him. Needed to know what his cock would feel like inside of her.

Needed to be one with him, beyond what they were doing right now. She was growing impatient, feeling so safe and so loved in his presence, here between his legs, that she did not want to wait much longer.

“My viper, I want you.” She breathed out when she lifted her head, her hand stilling for a moment. Pupils blown wide, a nearly ravenous expression on her face. “Please, Oberyn, my love.”

It took a moment for him to realize what she meant, finding it difficult to form a coherent thought with how close he was to his own peak, lost in the feeling of her lips around him.

“Are you sure, my sweet?” He asked, cupping her cheeks with both hands as she rose onto her hands and knees, her face close to his. “Do not feel pressured on my behalf-”

Slotting her lips against his, she cut him off, kissing him with such vigour he knew she was firm in her words. She moaned when he kissed her back, his hands on her body as he rose, moving her to lay down onto the silk bedding, never leaving her lips, staying connected to her.

Moving to her neck again as she laid below him, kissing and sucking at that sensitive spot below her ear.

“Oberyn, please.” She moaned, eyes half-lidded, squirming beneath his broad body. Hair splayed out like a halo around her head, tinged in orange sunlight. “Do not tease me, please.”

As he hovered above her, he took a moment to take her in. All of her, all his but not owned by him. Still as free as a bird for he would never cage her, make her submit, but this sight of her only for him to enjoy. The curves of her body, the way she breathed heavily, squirmed in anticipation and desperation.

All his. His wife.

Still unbelieving that this was reality, settling himself between her spread thighs. He was able to see her heart beat against her ribcage once more, just as he had wished to see it, pumping hard because of lust and not of anxiety.

His cock rested against her thigh, heavy and leaking and aching for her, aching to fully become one with her.

“Tell me you want this, my sweet.” He breathed, positioning himself so the head of him pushed against her aching hole. Ready to have him, inviting him in. “Tell me, my love. You want this, you want to become mine in body and heart and soul the way I want to become yours.”

She cupped his cheeks, eyes only on his as she nodded. Her heart swelling with every word that tumbled from his lips in the dawn, his handsome features lined by orange hues.

“Yes, Oberyn. I want this.” Her answer was a whisper but it did not lack in fervour. Smiling up at him, tears in her eyes, knowing what she was doing was right and that she was happy for this to be her life, with him by her side. “I wish to be yours, in body and heart and soul, connected to you until all eternity, until our hair turns grey and our bodies wither with the run of time.”

It was as if they held their very own, private wedding ceremony. Just the two of them to witness their words, to witness their love and passion and pleasure. 

“Until all that remains of us are two stars in the night sky, our names a whispered memory.” He said, kissing her, his hips slowly pressing forward.

It took her by surprise, her gasp swallowed by his mouth as he carefully pushed inside of her, a groan rumbling in his chest. 

A feeling like no other, feeling full as he stilled inside of her, his forehead resting against hers and breathing hard. The smallest laughter shared between them before their lips met again and again, his hands wandering all over her body, grabbing and pulling at every inch.

He could remain here forever, buried inside her, their lips meeting in a fiery passion, fuelled by their love for one another, the desire to feel, to be one.

Her embrace warm and welcoming, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. She wished she could crawl inside of his skin, mentally cursing herself for having been so scared of this.

Mentally cursing everyone who had told her tales of pain and misery, of simply enduring the first night and every night thereafter. Not one had mentioned the intense love and desire, the feeling of needing another human more than she needed water to drink or air to breathe.

The feeling of completion, like she had found a piece of herself in him which made her feel whole. 

No. Like an addition to herself, an extension.

“Please.” She mumbled against his lips, her hands roaming over his back, feeling the muscles dance beneath his skin. “Oberyn.”

He understood, kissing her cheek when he moved his hips, pulling out of her almost entirely before sinking back in, and the sweet moan that left her was music to his ears.

Sweeter than any of the sounds he had pulled from her before, breathy and high-pitched. 

Looking magnificent in her ecstasy.

“My sweet dove.” He groaned, setting a slow rhythm, trying to hold himself back. Her mouth and hands had brought him close before and her sweet cunt made him feel dizzy, too close to the edge for his own liking. He needed to savour this, drag this out, for her and for himself. Wishing to remember this forever. “Tell me what you are feeling, tell me all.”

A sloppy kiss met the corner of his mouth, trailing to his jaw.

“Complete, full and complete and ecstatic.” She moaned against his skin, her nails digging into his back. Driving in and out of her repeatedly, brushing against spots inside of her that made her feel lightheaded, her toes curling. “I never want this to end.”

He chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“This is what the Seven Heavens must feel like.” Oberyn groaned, his thrusts falling out of rhythm, overwhelmed by her. Her tightness, her embrace, her warmth. “Here, buried in your sweet cunt lies paradise, just for us.”

Nodding, her lips found his again, so close once again.

Tears running down her temples, settling in her hair. Feeling nothing but him, the world ceasing to exist while entangled with him, becoming drunk off the pleasure.

Her peak reached her so suddenly, she couldn’t do much more than whimper against his mouth, her arms pulling him into her. Breathless, her body set ablaze.

The feelings so much more intense than before, feeling him shudder and then still against her through the haze in her mind. Their lips never stopping, her name tumbling from his and right into her mouth, as if he was praying to the Gods above.

Basking in the afterglow, he kissed her cheeks, her temples wet with tears, shushing her gently as she cried. Tears of joy, of happiness unlike no other.

He could not imagine himself with anyone else, everyone that had come before her paling in contrast.

The sun warmed their skin, the sky a bright orange, fading into pinks and purples at the very edges. Dipping everything it touched into its mesmerizing hues.

“I love you, Oberyn.” She whispered, so quietly that he almost didn’t hear. Stroking his cheek, tears still in her eyes, barely open from exhaustion, from bliss. “My sweet Viper, my husband.”

Oberyn smiled, slowly pulling out of her, already missing her warmth and tightness. He rolled them over to the side, carefully guiding her spent body. Admiring the beauty of her in the rays of the sun, casting beautiful shadows across her face, making her look like a fabled creature.

Glowing like the sun itself.

His Sun.

“And I love you, my Sun.” He whispered back, brushing some hair from her forehead. Seeing her brows knit together at the new name. “My wonderful wife.”

“My Sun?” She echoed his words, finding a warmth and safety in the name.

“You are my Sun, my sweet. The centre of my being, my warmth and my light.” He said, smiling gently, cupping her cheek. “Us Dornish worship our sun. She gives us food, she gives us life. A new day in her safety and guidance. She is sacred to us, without her, there would only be darkness and coldness.”

Her heart soared at his words, a sob leaving her, overwhelmed by his gentleness and his affection.

“You are my Sun now. Without you, my life would be dark.” He continued, brushing away her tears, filled with nothing but unbridled love for her in this moment. “And I am your Moon. Shining brightly only in your light, in your presence. Cold without your warmth, without your bright smile.”

She couldn’t find words to match his, everything she thought of seeming inconsequential.

But he was not done. His heart so full for her, as she laid in the light of the rising sun, embracing each other's spent bodies.

“Before you, my life was nothing but the chase for pleasure, to forget what I have lost.” Tears welling up in his eyes as well, a sight she had never seen before, raising a hand to wipe them away as they fell. Knowing somehow he was talking about Elia. “But now, with you by my side, there is no more need for such chases. All the pleasure of the world lies within you. In the warm heart beneath your ribs, your gentle kiss and sweet embrace. In this sweet cunt between your legs.”

She giggled between her sobs. Of course he couldn’t just not mention it.

But she felt sadness, her heart breaking at the thought of his dead sister. Of this sweet, loving man drowned in darkness and sorrow, trying to find something to take away the pain her death had caused.

He hadn’t talked of her much just yet, the memory too painful.

Hoping that he would now, after he had found a light to guide him out of the darkness.

“I wish to show you the world, to experience all the world has to offer us with you by my side. To give you all the children you wish for, tiny viperlings in the image of us.” More words which brought forth more tears. Ever the poet, ever spilling his aching heart. “All that will heal my broken heart. Healing it further as you have already begun to heal it, my Sun, unbeknownst to you. Every moment spent with my daughters, treating them like your own, giving them your love, all of that put another broken piece back into place.”

“Oh, Oberyn. My Viper, my Moon.” She whispered, wiping away more tears as her own continued to spill. Leaning up to kiss them from his cheeks, brushing her nose against his. “I do not have the words to explain what I feel for you. They feel inadequate to everything you have just said.”

Oberyn chuckled, moving to kiss her lips, those sweet, soft lips.

“There is no need, my Sun. Your touch and your smile are enough to let me know just what you’re thinking, what you are feeling. Let me worship you as you ought to be worshipped in this moment.”

Pressing their foreheads together as they lay in the glowing sun, tangled limbs and tangled souls warmed by it.

Just breathing, just feeling.

Connected in their very beings, basking in each other’s presence.

The love they felt was enough to sustain them for a hundred lifetimes.

The Viper and his Sun.

In a bond formed of love.

[salingers]

heat wave. [oberyn martell x bipoc moodboard].

content credit: image one, two, three, & six, jasmine.

a/n: my first request, curated for @clubsoft. <3

npt: @80ssong. @almostempty. @almostfoxglove. @always-andromeda. @clubsoft. @cxrsed-angel. @dontlookatme121. @frankensteingotwet. @gothcsz. @indiegirlunited. @joeloverture. @letsgobarbs. @magpiepills. @ovaryacted. @verybigvag. @yxtkiwiyxt.