#bs; elias. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ktwritesstuff · 2 years ago

Text

Into the Fire (a Game of Thrones fanfic, sort of...)

Title: Into the Fire Fandom: Game of Thrones, with all due disrespect :D Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Oberyn Martel x Targaryen!reader (with a side of Ellaria) Word Count: ~4,000 Summary: Prince Oberyn saves your life and eventually does what Oberyn does with you. Beta-read by the illustrious @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut.

Content Notes: I don't know that much about Game of Thrones and most of what I do know I don't care for. But I do like Prince Oberyn. Expect a bit of violence, first time, light breeding kink, oral, poly-dynamics, unprotected p-in-v, probably a bunch of other tropes I've missed. It's Oberyn, "dead dove, do not eat" applies.

Into the Fire

You had escaped the madness at King’s Landing (in part thanks to the belated arrival of Ned Stark’s troops and the ensuing confusion among the enemy’s forces.) You did not make it five miles–on foot at night–before being set upon by slavers, opportunists taking advantage of the chaos. At least they saw more value in you alive than dead.

You were frightened when the soldiers came, thinking they must have been sent by Baratheon the usurper. From the wagon at first all you could see was the flash of a golden spear in the firelight. A whole troop of men fell upon the bandits, but there may as well have only been one. He moved so swiftly and so well, like a tongue of red flame wicking through the forest.

He was the most beautiful creature you had ever seen, even before they pulled you from the wagon and you saw the banner emblazoned with a red sun. These men were of House Martell, not Lannister, and if your luck held you might live to see another day.

“What is this?” asked the man in red.

“A Targaryen bastard by the looks of her,” one of the soldier’s growled, seizing a handful of your corn-silk hair and turning your face toward the fire. Your looks were not so other-worldly as your cousins, but at least you bore a close enough resemblance that he did not mistake you for a Lannister.

“I’m nobody,” you pleaded. “I’m nobody.”

The man in red drew close enough that you could make out the features of his face. You had seen Prince Oberyn only once before, at Rhaegar and Elia’s wedding feast, but his looks were unforgettable. You were surprised it had taken you so long to recognize him and even more surprised that he seemed to recognize you.

“I know your face,” he said. “You were a maid to Princess Elia; you were at King’s Landing. Tell me what you saw.”

“I hid–” you whimpered as the soldier pulled your hair.

“You abandoned your lady,” he said.

“No,” you cried. “When Lannister turned on us, the guards took her. I hid in the servant’s passages. I heard Tywin Lannister give the order to the one they call the Mountain to murder Elia’s children. I went to the nursery, but the children were gone. I searched for them–”

You admitted to all that you had seen. The gore, the horror. Elia cleaved in two from root to navel and her children smashed. The anguish that would never leave you. All the while Prince Oberyn’s face remained still as a stone, but you could see the sorrow and rage behind his dark eyes.

“You lie!” The soldier accused. “How could a mere girl escape such chaos unspoiled?”

“The same way anyone does,” you said. “Blind luck.”

The prince paced alongside the wagon, assessing you, sizing you up.

“And you’re sure it was Tywin who gave the order?” he asked.

“I swear,” you nodded. “On my life.”

The prince wanted to ride for King’s Landing immediately and dispatch Tywin himself, but ultimately his generals dissuaded him from such rash action. In the meantime, they gave you bread and wine and allowed you to rest in the first safety you had known in days. It was dawn before you saw the prince again. Even with a frown and deep lines etching his forehead, he was still the loveliest man you had ever seen.

“I can leave you a mount and a bit of gold for your journey,” he said. “But I cannot spare any of my men to return you to your people.”

Over time the sacred words of your house had become twisted. The life-giving warmth of fire and the sacred blood of kinship and covenant had turned to violence and ambition. Was it any wonder that Aerys’s reign had festered? But sweet Elia, a gentle princess and devoted mother, you would have followed her anywhere.

“I loved your sister,” you said. “Her people are my people.”

“Very well,” Prince Oberyn said, and for a moment a look crossed his face. You would have sworn he was pleased. “We sail for Dorne first thing tomorrow.”

You had passed six long years in Prince Oberyn’s harem, wanting for almost nothing. The court at Dorne was filled with carnal delights you have never before experienced: music and dancing, glittering jewels, perfumed baths, and the finest food. All of it available to you.

And the prince’s other concubines doted on you. When you first arrived in Dorne at 19 they considered you a baby. Meanwhile gossip at court held that your young cousin had been married off to a Dothraki warlord across the sea. Not that you would have traded places with young Daenerys, but in six years Oberyn had not once invited you to his bed. Besides the occasional chaste kiss on the hand or cheek he had not laid a finger on you.

Ellaria counseled you to be patient, that your time would come. But after so much time you were beginning to think Prince Oberyn had only taken you in as a matter of duty–that he had no desire for you at all. Like all the prince’s lovers, you were free to have any man or woman you desired, but you didn’t want another lover. You wanted the prince.

For your twenty-fifth nameday, the prince’s concubines plaited your hair, painted your face, and dressed you in fine silks. You felt lovely and terribly grownup, despite your lack of experience.

“Come,” Ellaria said with a conspiratorial grin. “Let’s go bathe in the southern garden, where the prince will see you from his window.”

The southern garden was a lush oasis tucked inside the palace walls. There was a clear saltwater pond surrounded by dry grasses and desert flowers. You disrobed in the shade of the palm fronds and slid into the water.

The lack of modesty among the prince’s inner circle had of course taken some getting used to after the formalities of King’s Landing. But ultimately you came to realize, there were many worthy admirers of your particular pale softness among the hard and tanned bodies of Dorne. Why should you deny them their pleasure, when those who didn’t appreciate your form were free to look away.

“Aren’t you coming?” you called to Ellaria, who was sunning herself in a chaise.

“I’m quite happy to enjoy the view,” Ellaria said as you swam. You chuckled at her playful flirting. You could understand, despite her low birth, how she could command so much of the prince’s affection. In all of Dorne, her beauty knew no equal and her charm was irresistible.

You loved to swim–floating, mostly–especially when the water was so cool and inviting. It was still early, the sun had not yet reached its apex, but the air was already hot and dry. You could see the prince’s window, watched his curtains moving in the warm breeze. You saw the prince come to the window, looking as if he had just roused from sleep. He leaned on the sill, watching as you stroked your way lazily across the pool.

When the sun had warmed your belly, you turned over to paddle your way back into the shade. You lost sight of Prince Oberyn, only for him to reappear on the steps down to the garden in his splendid red robe with a sheet of fine linen draped over one arm.

“You should keep this one out of the sun, Ellaria,” he warned. “She wasn’t made for it.”

You frowned as Prince Oberyn beckoned you to him. You rose from the pool reluctantly and he wrapped you in the sheet.

“I’m not afraid of being burnt, my Prince,” you protested as he draped the fabric over your shoulders and rubbed your arms to dry them.

“I’m well aware, my little dragon,” he said, touching your chin gently. “But how would it look for my prize to wander through Sunspear as red as a berry.”

You tucked the sheet under your arms and tied it off to secure it.

“Isn’t she beautiful, my love,” Ellaria said, rising from her chaise to join you in the shade.

“Very beautiful,” Oberyn agreed. He rested his hands on your shoulders, looking past you to gaze at Ellaria. “All the more reason to keep her from burning to a crisp.”

“Hair like spun gold,” Ellaria noted, gathering your damp braids in her hands, wrapping them back into your gold hairpin. “Skin so smooth, just like fresh cream. And so soft.”

The prince hummed to himself, watching her work.

Ellaria pressed her front against your back, she was almost a head taller than you, and you could feel the warmth of her sex against the small of your back. Her hands moved down your neck, her fingertips brushing the tops of your breasts.

“You like her soft, don’t you, lover? I’ve seen how you enjoy a bedfellow who gives.”

“I do,” said the prince, dipping his mouth toward Ellaria’s lips, perched beside your ear. “Why do you think I keep her so well?”

A jolt of excitement raced up your spine from your core as they kissed. You realized you enjoyed hearing them talk about you, around you, like this.

Ellaria slid her hands around your waist to the prince’s hips, pulling him into your body. You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing into your belly.

Ellaria moved one hand to the side of your head, turning away from the prince to catch your mouth in a kiss. Her lips were impossibly soft against yours and she tasted like honeyed wine. Then Prince Oberyn bowed his face toward yours and you didn’t know whose tongue was in your mouth. You felt dizzy with pleasure.

Ellaria pulled away and you moaned for the loss, but Prince Oberyn was holding your face in his large hands and his tongue was moving past your teeth, delving toward your throat. Your body felt like soft clay, molding into them. Ellaria kissed your neck, taking your hands in hers, moving them into Prince Oberyn’s robe.

“Like this,” she whispered, guiding your hands over his chest, fingernails scraping against his nipples, palming the hard muscles traversing his abdomen.

The prince’s skin was nearly as smooth as yours, until your hands reached the wiry hair trailing down to his swollen cock. The prince moaned into your mouth as Ellaria positioned your hands around him.

“Gently,” she instructed. “You’re doing so well.”

As you carefully stroked the prince’s shaft, Ellaria’s hands moved across your body, kneading your breasts, traveling down the soft curves of your belly to grope at your mons, assessing the wetness of your inner folds.

“She’s ready,” Ellaria said. “Take her.”

Prince Oberyn pulled away from you panting. Your own chest heaved with exertion and your head swam.

“Are you coming?” he asked.

“Not today, lover,” Ellaria said, running a perfectly shaped fingernail down your nose affectionately. “Today is for our little dragon.”

“Come,” Oberyn instructed, leading you by the hand up the steps to his bedchamber. “There’s another nameday gift waiting for you yet.”

You hesitated, turning back toward Ellaria, looking for assurance or permission.

“Go,” she said, shooing you along with a friendly smile. “Go! Enjoy yourself.”

You followed Prince Oberyn up the stairs, full of uncertainty and excitement. His bedchamber was the finest you had ever seen: the heavy wooden furniture was ornately carved and polished to a mirror-like shine, hand-woven rugs stretched nearly from wall-to-wall. At the very center of the room was an exquisite canopy bed with silken drapes of red and gold.

“Sit,” the prince urged, motioning to the bed.

You took a seat at the end of the bed, leaning back on your forearms, anticipating your long-awaited ravishing with something akin to glee. Instead, the prince retrieved a lidded basket from the table and brought it over to the bed.

“For you,” he said. “A gift; be gentle with it.”

Your lips parted in surprise. You lifted the lid of the basket, gazing down into its contents: armor-like scales, writhing, and hissing softly. You counted three pointed, perfect heads with shining black eyes.

“Oh,” you sighed, reaching into the basket, allowing one of the serpents to coil around your fingers. “They are beautiful, my prince.”

You lifted the first creature out of the basket; its scales shining copper in the sunlight as its forked tongue darted out to catch your scent.

“Are they dangerous?”

“Only if they bite,” Oberyn said, reaching into the basket to retrieve another snake for you to examine.

“Are they likely to bite?” you asked, the snake in your hand coiled its tail around your wrist. You marveled at it, reaching for its final companion, a tiny, emerald-green thing which wove its head in and out from between your fingers.

“Not these hand-raised babies,” Oberyn said, pressing his face toward the snake’s in a show of faith. “All they want is to be kept warm and safe and fed on the finest rats Dorne has to offer.”

“Like me,” you laughed.

“Are you partial to rat, little dragon?” Oberyn smiled, returning the snakes to their basket. “I will have to inform Cook!”

You laughed, leaning back in Oberyn’s bed as he set the basket aside.

“Thank you, my Prince,” you said. “I adore them.”

“I am glad,” Oberyn said, returning to the bed. “Rumor has it your cousin has added three dragons to her command, but this is the best I could do.”

“They’re splendid, my Prince,” you said.

Oberyn leaned over you, placing a hand on the base of your throat as he kissed you.

“I can’t wait to show the others.”

“Catalina is afraid of snakes,” he warned, his mouth trailing down your neck. You cradled his head in your hands, tilting your chin back to expose your throat.

“Then Catalina will learn to stay out of my room,” you chuckled.

Oberyn paused as his mouth reached the space between your breasts, curling his fingers under the sheet that still covered you. His eyes darted to your face.

“May I?”

“Please,” you gasped, arching into him.

Oberyn opened the sheet, taking each of your breasts in his hand, pressing the flat of his tongue against each nipple one after the other, nipping and sucking until they were swollen and sensitive. You could feel your arousal coiling like a snake at the base of your spine.

“So beautiful,” he breathed against your skin. “So sweet.”

“Now you,” you pleaded, touch the collar of his robe. “Please, my Prince.”

Oberyn grinned, rising from the bed to undo his robe. His body perfectly lean and hard and golden stood in stark contrast to yours. His cock thick and long, sprouting from a nest of dark hair fully erect; you thought he must be large, though you didn’t have much to compare him to.

You turned over on the bed, crawling to him on hands and knees.

“Can I taste you, my Prince,” you asked.

Oberyn took your face in his hand, playfully squeezing your cheeks until your lips pursed.

“How could I deny this face,” he said, settling onto the bed.

Oberyn turned onto his back, supporting himself on his forearms so he could watch as you moved over him. You took his shaft in one hand, lapping at the tip. It was different than you expected, a heady, earthy musk, salty and sour on your tongue. Oberyn made a soft, satisfied sound from deep in his throat.

“More,” Oberyn instructed, placing a hand on the back of your head.

You opened your mouth wide, wrapping your lips around him. Oberyn sighed, letting his head fall back against the cushions. Try as you might, you could not reach to his root, surfacing for air only to gag yourself in the next attempt. As you moved up and down Oberyn’s length, the sounds of pleasure turned to something more like discomfort.

“Stop,” he ordered through gritted teeth, silk sheets bunched in one hand. “Stop.”

You sat back on your heels with a frown as Oberyn sighed with relief to have his cock freed from your toothsome maw.

“I’ve displeased you, my Prince,” you said, horrified that the unbreakable prince of House Martell would lay down his weapon rather than suffer your untutored enthusiasm.

“No,” Oberyn beckoned you to him. “Never. You need more practice, that’s all.”

You stretched out on the bed beside Oberyn and his hands explored the curves of your body.

“You shall have your pick of my men as a bedfellow,” he assured you, interlacing his fingers with yours, lifting your hand to his lips. “And once you’ve had sufficient preparation, we can try again. You’ll have many more opportunities to amuse me, little dragon.”

Oberyn’s fingers wandered, tracing each of the pale lines adorning your breasts and belly. If one didn’t know better, they might have assumed you had already had a baby.

“I’m going to put my fingers inside you,” Oberyn explained.

“On my honor, I am a maid, my lord,” you said as his fingers circled the sensitive jewel at the peak of your folds. The serpent in your belly that had lain dormant for so long coiled tighter.

“On my honor, I care not,” Oberyn teased. “Though it is a special pleasure to be the first to delve into this cave. I don’t know what tales are circulated by Targaryen oldwives, but in Dorne our women are taught never to suffer inattentive lovers. Maid or not this should be quite pleasurable for you.”

You bit your lip as Oberyn probed one finger past your entrance, then a second. A little tight, a little stretched, but not uncomfortable.

“More?” he asked, probing deeper. You gripped his shoulders and shook your head.

“Not yet,” you said.

Oberyn waited, pressing his thumb into the peak of the wishbone between your legs. The serpent writhed.

“What are you doing to me,” you moaned, clutching the silk sheets.

“You’ll know soon enough,” Oberyn said, his fingers curling inside you. You shrieked as he touched a place inside you that sent a lightning bolt of pleasure racing up your spine.

“There,” Oberyn chuckled, withdrawing his hand to hold your face as he kissed you. “I’m sorry to report you are too small to take all of me. There are, of course, other avenues we can explore.”

Oberyn reached around you to squeeze the globe of your ass and you gasped in excitement.

“But that is for another time,” he said, moving over you. “Today is yours to enjoy. When I press into you I want you to close your legs so I can fuck your thighs while I fuck your cunt.”

You nodded, spreading your knees so that Oberyn could settle between them, aligning his cock at your entrance, rubbing against you spreading the slickness of your arousal over himself. You felt a sharp tug as you closed your knees around him.

“Pain?” Oberyn asked, slowly pressing his hips into you.

You shook your head. “It’s not bad.”

“Breathe, little dragon,” he said, bowing his head to kiss your breasts.

Oberyn’s movements put pressure against that sensitive spot and as he flicked his hips into you, you could feel the serpent in your core coiling tighter and tighter. You moaned with abandon, letting your head fall back against the cushions.

“Good?”

“Yes,” you panted, clawing at his arms, his back, scrambling for purchase.

“My little dragon has a fire in her belly,” Oberyn teased. “So hot for me, strong and eager.”

You moaned, arching into him.

“Tell me,” you pleaded, reaching to pull him into another kiss, hot, wet, and hungry. “Tell me more about what you want to do to me.”

“Such a needy little girl,” Oberyn panted, gripping your thigh. “Already drunk off my cock.”

You purred in agreement, biting down on Oberyn’s lower lip, your pupils blown so wide your pale eyes were nearly as dark as his.

“I’ll make you mine,” he said. “A finer mount than any dragon. My love, my plaything.”

“Please,” you mewled. “Anything…anything you desire.”

Oberyn ran a hand down your body, arching his back like a cat, his gaze settling on the space below your naval.

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” he said. “I want your breasts to swell and your belly to stretch with my child.”

You moaned, dragging your hands down his sweat damp back to grip the hard muscles of his ass. The snake coiling in your belly finally struck, every fiber in your body crackled like hot coals. You gasped as Oberyn fucked you through your climax.

As his thrusts slowed to a desperate grind, he withdrew from you and spent his seed on your belly and chest. He rolled off of you, onto his pillows, dragging one hand through the mess he had made of you.

He pressed two fingers to your lips and you took them into your mouth, suckling his spend from them like a newborn kitten after cream.

“You’ve done me wrong, Oberyn,” you sighed, turning onto your side to meet his gaze.

Oberyn reached over you to strike your ass with the flat of his hand once, hard, and you yelped. Another thrill of pleasure raced through you.

“You forget yourself,” he warned. “I am still your prince.”

He grabbed your face and kissed you, claiming your mouth with his own. You panted as he finally released you, resting your hands on his chest.

“You promised me a baby,” you said. “And all you’ve made me is a mess.”

“In time, my sweet,” he said, gathering your body into his. “I’d like to have you to myself a while longer.”

Oberyn brushed your sweat-damp hair from your face and kissed your brow.

“You need another bath,” he warned. “To freshen up for the feast.”

“What feast, my prince,” you asked, tracing the neat line of his beard with your fingers.

“We could not let a 25th nameday go unmarked,” he said with a wry smile. “Just a small celebration, little dragon. My brother has graciously allowed us use of the great hall to mark the occasion, or at least he will.”

“You spoil me, my lord,” you sighed.

Prince Oberyn escorted you to the great hall himself; there was already a fire raging in the very center of the room filled with wine and laughter and gaiety. You didn’t even notice Ellaria until she managed to slink up behind you to whisper in your ear.

“You are glowing,” she said and you laughed as her arms trailed around your waist. "I take it you enjoyed your time together."

“Very much,” you said. “Truthfully I’m surprised I’m still standing.”

“Then sit,” she said. “Lover, we’re going to sit.”

She leaned over to kiss Prince Oberyn on the mouth–the same mouth that just hours before had transversed every unspeakable place on your body. You took a seat on a cushion at one of the low tables surrounding the fire and Oberyn summoned a page to bring you wine and sweet date cakes, before running off to make merry with a handsome young courtier.

“Did you put him up to this?” you asked as Ellaria draped one arm around you.

Ellaria scoffed.

“Hardly,” she said, twisting her fingers through your hair. “A nudge, that’s all. Just a little reassurance. Even princes know to fear dragons.”

You took Ellaria’s hand in yours and placed a kiss on her palm.

“Thank you.”

End Notes: Ta da! Thanks to all who voted and all who've read this far. What do you think? Are you interested in more?

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell smut #oberyn x reader #game of thrones fanfic

984 notes · View notes