#oberyn martell reader

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Wrap Around Pt.1

Pairing(s): Oberyn Martell x Martell!Reader, Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

Warnings: siblingxsibling implied, longing

Words: 2033

Summary: Oberyn was beside himself at the return of his baby sister (y/n). For a year she had been off in Essos, experiencing the rest of the world outside of the safety of Sunspear. Now she was returning to Dorne. Returning to Oberyn.

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANY OF THE WARNINGS/TAGS

Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

“Her ship still isn’t here yet?” Irritated, Oberyn makes the servant squirm uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze. Normally Oberyn was quick to please and in a jolly mood. There was none of that.

“No, your Grace. Her ship seems to be lagging.” He awkwardly informs the Prince of Dorne.

Near the archway of his chambers, Ellaria was lounging on a long, cushioned bench. She watches as the poor boy flees once given permission by Oberyn. “Calm down, my love. The ship will get here when it gets here. You yelling at squires won’t make it sail any faster.”

His brow was tense on his handsome face. “I haven’t seen my baby sister in a year. I need to see her face. It’s been far too long.”

Ellaria coles and rises, her robes flowing after her as she glides over to Oberyn. Hands smooth out Oberyn’s knotted shoulders. (y/n)’s initial departure had been hard enough on Oberyn. For days after Ellaria stayed by his side as he longed for his sister. Now that she was returning, he was once more growing impatient on her arrival.

She kisses the length of his neck, feeling his form relax under her touch. “You know how arduous traveling by sea is. The wait will be worth it once you see her.”

Closing his eyes, Oberyn sighs and allows Ellaria to lead him to a chair. Dutifully pouring him a goblet of rich Dornish red. Dark as blood but oh so sweet on the tongue.

He should have never let (y/n) leave for Essos. She claimed that she wanted to see more of the world and since she was not allowed to go to Westeros on her own (Oberyn had already lost one sister there, he wasn’t going to lose another), her brothers relented. Giving her a ship to Essos was safer than having her travel in Westeros where Lannisters and Tyrells could easily prey upon her. For so long after Elia’s death, Oberyn kept her safe in Dorne. No one would dare to take his young sister from their own home. (y/n) wanted to spread her wings though. Too headstrong to be tethered down. She was not delicate like Doran and Elia had been. There was venom in her, a will that couldn’t be broken, nor did Oberyn ever want to. He loved (y/n), faults and all of her fire.

“If she comes back with a boy, you must promise not to hurt him.” Ellaria suddenly muses while petting his dark head.

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Oberyn before. (y/n) was of perfect marrying age and much like himself had a healthy carnal appetite. What if she had decided to bring someone home? Perhaps when she visited Trystane in Norvos where his mother lived their nephew might have introduced her to someone. A beautiful foreigner that peaked her interests enough for her to want to bring them home. It made Oberyn’s stomach drop.

“Then the boy must be ready to prove himself. No man is worthy of my sister if they are not prepared to fight me.”

Ellaria knew that there was more to it. Expert hands fann on his broad shoulders and begin to knead them. “Even here, feelings like that are looked down upon.” They never spoke about it. Hardly brought it up because of the sadness that followed. Incest was rife in Westeros, but never in Dorne. Have a lover, even two if you like, but it could never be a sibling. That was the one taboo everyone agreed upon. It was viewed as unnatural, even damnable. And perhaps another reason why Doran was willing to give (y/n) her own ship to travel for months at a time. He saw what Ellaria did: a brother who loved his sister too much for comfort.

Not saying anything, Oberyn gingerly grabs one of Ellaria’s hands and pulls it down so that he could kiss her smooth knuckles. “I just want to see her.”

Off in the distance they could hear the low blow of a horn. Oberyn was on his feet in seconds, a big grin plastered on his face making him look ten years younger.

“She’s here!” **

Your heart rattled the cage of your chest once you caught sight of land and the shining top of Sunspear’s palace, even the looming vegetation of the Water Gardens could vaguely be seen.

The warm Dornish breeze kissed your face, welcoming you back home. Although you had fun during your solo journey, you sorely missed Sunspear and all the people that lived there. You wondered how much your nieces had changed, if they even did at all. Arianne and Tyene had been close companions to you growing up. The three of you spent your early adolescence playing in the Water Garden and flirting with whatever poor boy got stuck in your alluring trap. You loved Oberyn dearly, but you could never have fun with the opposite sex when he was around. Entangle yourself with another woman? Sure, go for it. But if Oberyn caught a whiff of a male scent, he was right there to scare them off. Being with your nieces did a lot of good for you as you were allowed to escape Oberyn at least for a few hours.

You smile to yourself when you think of your possessive brother.

Retrieving a piece of cloth that was normally tied to your wrist, you press it under your nose. After so long it still smelled like Oberyn. Before leaving for your first stop, Lys, you had snuck into Oberynb’s room and cut a strip of fabric from one of his shirts. A token to take with you, for even though he chased all the boys away, Oberyn was your favorite person. More than Arianne and Tyene. More than your older brother Doran. He was your light. When Elia was murdered, Oberyn slept in your room every night because of your haunting nightmares. He pressed you close to his bare chest and you drowned yourself in his calming scent. Cloves, spices, and a bit of natural musk was your security blanket.

The sway of the ship brought you back.

You’d be seeing him shortly. You let go of the scrap of cloth, ignoring it as it fell to the ground. There was no need for it anymore. You were home.

“(Y/N)!!”

Even through the shout, you knew who it was. The closer you got, the more you could make out Oberyn at the dock; hands cupped around his mouth as he called out to you. Two armed guards stood sentry behind Oberyn and Ellaria. Of course they would be the first ones to greet you.

Leaning over the side, you call out “OBERYN!!”

Then, to the deckhands utter shock, you did the unthinkable. Getting up on the ledge of the ship, you dove into the sparkling water below. Their screams were drowned out once the water enveloped you. Breaching the surface, you swim over to the dock’s shore where Oberyn was running to.

“You crazy girl!” Oberyn was laughing as he helped you up and out of the water. His own trousers getting wet in the process but neither of you cared. He grabbed onto you for dear life and nearly suffocated you in his embrace. That’s when you heard the delighted screams of your nieces running into the water as well. Arianne excitedly skipped in, her dress skirts immediately getting wet. Tyene was a little more hesitant than her cousin but lifted up the hem of her dress and waded in. While Nymeria was close behind Tyene, Obara and Ellaria chose to stay on shore.

Even though saltwater stung your eyes and soaked into your clothes, you had never been happier. In the arms of your family you felt secure and loved.

Being drenched from head to toe made the way back to Sunspear’s palace a little uncomfortable, but at least you weren’t the only one. Nymeria had charged in, knocking all four of you into the water. Oberyn’s long hair was dripping as was Arianne’s. The way back, Tyene sulked over her wet attire; silently shooting daggers over at her half-sister.

Before facing your brother Doran, the reigning Prince of Dorne, you desperately needed a bath and a change of clothes. Being in that state was okay when it was in front of Oberyn, not the eldest child of Prince Egemen and Bahar Martell. Even if he was your brother, you still had to appear proper in front of the ruler of Dorne.

Departing from your welcome wagon, you were taken for your required bath. It felt like heaven to slip out of your soiled garments and into the steaming hot water that the maids had quickly supplied for you.

Sprinkling small jasmine flowers into the water made the floral scent begin to rise and fill your nostrils. As fun as your travels had been, this was your home that you had missed.

Hadiye, a hand maid who had been with you for years, goes to answer a knock at your washroom door. You could hear her quiet protest. “Prince Oberyn, your sister is almost done with her bath.”

Quite easily, Oberyn pushed past her. “That’s alright. You forget that (y/n) and I used to bathe together as children. Nothing I haven’t seen before. Besides, I want to hear of her adventures in the vast land of Essos!”

Gawking at the prince that was now striding over to your massive tiled tub, Hadiye looks to you and Melisa who had been lathering your hair with essential oils at the time of Oberyn’s disruption. Melisa, who was lower in rank than Hadiye, takes a step away from you and bows in your brother’s presence.

He waves them off. “You two may leave. My sister and I have much to catch up on.”

From her nervous glances at you, you assure the women that it would be alright. Before you left, this had been normal. Oberyn barging in on you as you bathed so he could keep you company and talk. Still, you knew how much this fact made others uncomfortable. “Go on. Let Prince Doran know that I will be ready in a little bit.”

Obedient Hadiye bows and ushers Melisa out.

“Such fretting hens.” Oberyn clicks.

“They surely haven’t changed one bit.”

Finally the two of you were alone. Releasing a sigh as he gets down on his knees, Oberyn sits on the floor; back leisurely pressed against your tub. Of course he never looked directly at you while you bathed. That would be inappropriate.

“So tell me of the year I have missed out on.” **

He had hoped things would be different once (y/n) came home. That her and Oberyn would stop tip-toeing the line of being inappropriate with each other. Yet his retainer had just told him what Hadiye had relayed.

Prince Doran purses his lips and runs a hand over his brow. They had always been too close, even before Elia’s murder. Elia had fretted over the relationship her younger siblings had. She wanted (y/n) to be married as soon as possible, preferably to a Dornish lord so that (y/n) would not have to suffer in a foreign land. Doran knew better. If he were to marry off (y/n), Oberyn would bring upon the apocalypse. Many times he had stated that no man could take (y/n) unless they defeated him in combat. Which more than likely meant Oberyn would kill any potential suitors.

What to do about them was becoming quite a problem for Doran. No young lord wanted to risk their life in order to claim (y/n). His father had taught all he may need to know for ruling Dorne, except for this. Times like this made him miss Elia. Under her care, Oberyn and (y/n) were more docile. Oberyn kept his possessiveness at bay while (y/n) kept her encouragement to a minimum. They clung to one another furiously after Elia’s premature demise.

Even with his paramour, Ellaria, Oberyn kept a tight grip on (y/n) and vice versa. Like snakes entwined in their mating dance.

He feared for his younger siblings. Their attraction to each other would ruin them.

[hauntedfictionland]

❝His dear princess❞

☾︎✰❛❀ Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem! Reader!

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

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

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

Jacaerys was infuriated with you.

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

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

He hated being betrothed to you already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Husband.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Protecting you is.

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

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

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

“Jacaerys—”

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

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

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

“I promise.”

That, gives him great relief. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there was still something he needed to let out.

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

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

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

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

“Why then?”

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

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

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

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

You say, a plea in your voice.

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

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

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

[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.

[guiltyasdave]

delicate

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: ~3.9k

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

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

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

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You alright, princess?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tastes so sweet, princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I really like you.” 

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

“Is– is it okay that I said that?” 

He hums, his large hand still on your cheek. 

“I think I really like you too.”

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

[oscarisaacsspit]

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

[missyorkswhore]

Pedro Pascal with weapons, this is the post

[zialltops]

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

[i-smoke-chapstick]

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

'LOVE CAN KILL, [jealousy! hcs]

-GOT / HOTD CHARACTERS X READER-

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

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

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

𝑅𝛰𝐵𝐵 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐾

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐽𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝑀𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝐸𝑅𝑌 𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐸𝐿𝐿

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝛰𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑌𝑁 𝑀𝐴𝑅𝑇𝐸𝐿𝐿

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

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

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

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

Yeah, he means business.

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

Similarly to Margaery, he teases you lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

𝐶𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸𝐼 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐽𝛰𝐹𝐹𝑅𝐸𝑌 𝐵𝐴𝑅𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸𝛰𝑁

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

Oh, Joffrey. I'm obsessed with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝑅𝐴𝑀𝑆𝐴𝑌 𝐵𝛰𝐿𝑇𝛰𝑁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐼𝛰𝑁 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝑆𝐴𝑁𝐷𝛰𝑅 "𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐻𝛰𝑈𝑁𝐷" 𝐶𝐿𝐸𝐺𝐴𝑁𝐸

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

Listen up, Sandor doesn't take shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁𝐷 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐴𝐸𝐺𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

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

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

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

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

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

Not to mention the belittling comments he'll make.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐴𝐿𝐼𝐶𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐺𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑁𝐸 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐷𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hereforthehitsbaby]

I'm Not Interested | Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

Synopsis: Being a handmaiden meant you lived to serve, to make sure you were keeping the young queen safe. But when a certain golden fellow makes his way in from the South, he cannot help but to become infatuated with your aura. So many stories you have heard about the Prince of Dorne, how uninterested it made you. But would he be able to woo you?

Warnings: Language, Angst, M/F Sexual Situations, The Hatred the Reader Has For Oberyn is A S T R O N O M I C A L, Reader has the last name of Flowers since they are a bastard from The Reach,

Rating: M

Word Count: 7.3K

What is it with those who we cannot have that make life most difficult? Was it the fact that every time you lay your eyes upon them, you knew you cannot be with them? Or was it the fact that you have convinced yourself you should not care for this person, should not be with them, because they will not feel the same way? The constant back and forth can be very tiresome; What was the point of harboring such emotions if they could not be acted upon? Why must life be so damn complicated? Why must two different social classes not interact even though they can bring the greatest of pleasures and happiness? The gods from above were out to get us all, to make sure we cannot act upon such feelings in order to restore balance, power, and integrity within the seven kingdoms. But what would they think about those who did not harbor such feelings for the irresistible? The greatest challenge they would ever have to face, started with you.

Urges were something you had never given into, no matter how bad you needed to. You never really saw the necessity in pining after them if all they could bring would be heartache, fear and anger. It had to do with your upbringing, you attributed it to. Fearing the worst of all situations forced you to become cautious in your day to day - why live in multiple strides when you could comfortably follow one linear path? There would be no disruptions, you could predict everyday and know it would/could play out the same way. After all, was what fun about surprises? Knowing what to expect everyday had a better feel; You go to work, do your tasks and go home - simple enough at the end of the day. No big occurrences that could knock you off track, no distractions that could cause you to be beheaded - everything worked out perfectly in hindsight. What more out of life could you possible have asked for? Why did he need to be brought into the picture? Why was the world out to get you?

Growing up was not simple for you; Then again, neither was life. Westeros was suppose to be the land of opportunity, the country of new allegiances and fresh life - it was not suppose to be the end all, be all. Surely you didn't pick up on the evil and the carnage until you were much older, but growing up in Honeyholt was your solace - your home away from home. Though you had only spent a short amount of time there, it was nothing like you ever new before. Lush greenery and sweetened air flowed through your nostrils every time you woke up; Softened gaze of the sun rippling over your body like it was a kiss from the gods themselves. The Reach was one of the least problematic provinces of Westeros but, somehow there would always be evil that followed. Maybe it was just you after all, maybe the evil followed because you provoked it? Your first lick of the bad was when one of the river boys decided to kill your lovely hummingbirds by pelting them with rocks; Weirdo was a phrase they tossed at you like stale bread. But it was the rocks being pelted back at their heads that helped solidify the family you would have, love and cherish forever.

Margaery Tyrell was your saving grace that dreadful summer day, her brother Loras standing directly next to her. It was their sharp aim of the glistening rocks that caused your tears and sadness to turn to smiles and laughter - protecting you from the bullshit being thrown your way. The reason you were tormented in The Reach was due to being a bastard - born to a mother and father who were merely fifteen. They could not care for you, so they ushered you off to the nearest orphanage, leaving you without a house name but one that would be burned into your cranium. Flowers was a beautiful last name, elegant and soft but - when it revolved around those born out of lust, no one appreciated it. Still Margaery and Loras let you become one of their own, promising to bring you love and joy like you never knew before. It they had not saved you that day - you would have been stoned to death by those measly boys. But you never expected your life to take such a turn, shifting from anger and sadness to peace and serenity. The Tyrells were one of the only welcoming families in all of the Seven Kingdoms, well besides the Martells.

Due to how close you had gotten with Margaery over the course of sixty two nights, Mace Tyrell had appointed you the handmaiden for his young daughter. It came naturally being best friends with Margaery with her loving, sympathetic and feisty nature; You felt like a Tyrell one most days. Both of you were around the same age of 12 when you had been given the role, doing that even up into this very day. It came naturally to be in the princesses care, though she was not royalty at that age just yet. It was an ongoing dream you both had, being whisked away far away from Highgarden to enjoy the scenery of the world - hoping a loving Prince would make you his one day. Though it was a pipedream, it was one you chose to reminisce in. Those small daydreams started to diminish when Margaery was being whisked away to Renly Baratheon - promising to make her a Queen. You were so happy your best friend got to see the world, being in charge and love every minute of it - but deep down you wished it was you. Mace told you the second she was sauntered off to another realm, you would not longer be of service but, Lady Olenna and Margaery were always going to need you as the handmaiden.

You had been through it all with Queen Margaery, Renly's death - Joffery's death and now her marriage to Tommen. Poor girl had endured so much in so little time you were starting to feel for her, maybe it was the course of the Baratheon's everyone droned on about at times. Still being the one to comfort her through it all meant the world; You needed each other like fish needed water - two halves of a whole. She could not function without you and vice versa; No one could function without a great support system in King's Landing. With Cersei always making her rounds to check in on the both of you, always making quips about you being a bastard - both you and Margaery talked the biggest load of shit about her once she left. Then again that is what sister's do, they talk shit and laugh together. A gift from the gods above, a curse in the seven kingdoms. The optimism that Margaery held was one of the reasons that you became narrow to the world, living as a realist instead of in your sweetened fantasies. There was too much death shrouding for one to endure; You took the baggage on for her.

A stormy night in King's Landing was rare, only sunshine had made its way through the golden city. Standing on the balcony of the castle you watched how the rain trickled down softly in your chambers, how it rippled amongst blackwater bay in the most beautiful of ways. You were meant to be drawing a bath up for Margaery but, decided to let the water boil a bit more before letting her slip in. She loved a hot bath with her favorite citrus and clove oils, and on colder nights like this - it was heavily needed. Pulling your shawl tightly around your body you took a deep breath, letting the different spicy scents take over your senses. Warmth of the water and the cold from the rain were in heavy contrast - the one week you spent up in Winterfell with the Tyrells brought back so many memories like this - but at least Winterfell was welcoming and warm, not sticky and hateful like King's Landing. Hearing the gentle patters of feet on the cobblestone, you rushed over to the fireplace with your mitts, prancing the last of the boiling water over to the metal tub. As the final wash fell over you added the best part, fresh lilac and rose petals from the garden below - fresh cut by the Queen herself.

Standing back towards the fireplace, you watched the chamber door open but - reveal total darkness. Chewing on your bottom lip you felt the warmed presence of something else enter, causing your heart to shift into a flutter. There was a moment of total silence; The rain being drowned out by the racing in your ears, how your body shifted so quickly into fight mode. Candlelight could only take you so far to see - you were never particular on having more than a handful of candles lit at once, a hazard in itself plus the minimal lighting was better for you to sleep in. Slipping in through the open door was someone you never expected to see up this way, thinking he was down in the lower chambers, with six other companions. A black, almost black shawl draped over his shoulders was accompanied by brown pants; The strings pulled loose to show an incredible clean tuft of curls sitting at the base of his pelvis. Wandering eyes made their way up his lean torso, falling right onto his face - one you hated to admit was gorgeous. Generous auburn eyes glowed in the pale moonlight, his facial hair soft enough to scratch, making him purr. His hair, god that fucking short mane on top - how you were tempted to curl your fingers around every inch.

Ever since those from all Seven Kingdoms came to rejoice in the Purple Wedding, there had been one set of eyes permanently locking themselves onto you - watching your every move like it was the best entertainment yet. It all started when you first accompanied Margaery to the great hall for the ceremony, taking your place on her side in front. You stood facing your best friend with a wide smile, giving her some hope though she was to marry such a monster. Everyone in all of Westeros knew how much of a psychopath Joffery Baratheon was, if you could give Margaery a sliver of hope then you were going to. Distraction was prevalent during the ceremony when a warmed presence made its way behind you - boring into your soul. The bareness of your back in the lilac dress you wore had you able to feel every small lick of heat from dead set eyes. Before you could spin around to see the gaze wanting your attention so badly, a thick accented voice, low in nature appeared right in your ear, a heavy breath of wine and berries falling over your senses; "How long have you known the new Queen?" He asked, it was a genuine question from what you could tell. The urge to spin around and see exactly who you were talking to was high but, it would be frowned upon. Plus if your gaze was shifted elsewhere, Margaery would begin to panic.

"About ten years; Give or take," It was true, now that you both were close to your mid twenties now. When meeting at 12 years old you never expected your life to take such a turn like this, to now be standing only a few mere feet from the iron throne where your best friend was. In a way you only thought you were going to have tragedy and horrible memories to grow up with but, the Tyrell's changed your entire outlook on life. "Always her handmaiden, or more?" The same voice asked, goosebumps prickling your bare arms. His calloused, strong fingers began to stroke their way up your skin - reveling in how you gently shook at his touch. For this mystery man to have such an effect on you already was a sign of submission, something you were never going to give up easily. "She's my best friend," You sighed out, wanting to focus on the ceremony rather than another drunken fool who would try and have his way with you. Shrugging his touch off you held your hands together right in front of you, tilting your chin high with a sophisticated smile to your Queen. Deep down you did not want this man's touches to stop, or his sweetened words - you were hating how much you craved a total stranger; What spell did he cast on you?

"Hm, I am so sure of it. From the look you're giving her I can tell it's more than that," Honeyed words caused you to spin around effortlessly - cocking a wary eyebrow at the patron behind you. To not avail did you find him, just cautious eyes from each section of Westeros shooting you a glare. The heat on your face rose as you sighed out, turning back to the ceremony - now having Cersei Lannister shoot daggers in your direction. The familiar scent of wine and berries came back effortlessly once your eyes faced forward, sending a wave of heat through your nerves. "I'm sorry, who are you?" Your words barely came out above a whisper as you jaunted on, trying to put as much space as you could between yourself and this mystery man. Placing his body directly behind yours, he ghosted his hand over your waist - the heat causing your eyes to flutter shut for a split second, "Little canary, allow me to introduce mysel-"

"Sir, there is a wedding going on and I am not going to get in trouble due to you. Introductions can wait," You did not intend for the words to come in such a harsh manner as they did, it was the fact that Cersei and Jamie were staring at you as if they wanted you dead, you couldn't deal with that on what was suppose to be such a happy day. Before you could shuffle off towards the opposite side of the Great Hall, the hand ghosting over your body finally came into contact, a breathy moan escaping his lips before he began to speak; "Prince Oberyn Martell," He whispered into your ear, placing his hand flush against your waist - pulling you back to his chest. Resting your head against his forehead, you tried to keep your concentration focused primarily on the boring ceremony, the draping of cloth going forth now. But it was difficult when Oberyn's hands roamed your body like you were the last meal in all of the country, starving for your affection, your body, and soul. "Why don't we skip the dreadful event going on and, let me worship you. My paramour would take a quick liking to such a beauty as yourself."

His lips nipped at the soft spot behind your ear, causing a silent whimper to release from your lips. Fighting to keep your eyes opened Oberyn took the opportunity to slip his hand through the opening just below your breast, trailing his hot fingertips across your stomach - dipping lower, and lower until his reached the juncture of where your thigh met your pelvis. Shuttering at the feeling you could not help but think about his words, how he explicitly used the word paramour over wife. The Prince of Dorne; One who fucked everything and anything that could walk. Oberyn Martell was here, right behind you, touching you in such intimate ways as his lips trailed down to your neck. Biting at the supple flesh near your jaw, you felt the anger boil up in you that you were allowing this out in the open, for everyone to see; "Do I look like I'm from the pleasure houses?" The quip was quick, causing the Prince to laugh right into your ear - the assault his lips were having on your neck and jaw never stopped, trailing over to your shoulder instead. "No, you're more sophisticated than that; Feisty. You have a fire and spark I am dying to ravish."

Twirling around in his grasp, you pushed back a bit more to head towards the middle of the crowd. One of your hand was fixed on the back of his neck whilst the other was pressed firmly against his toned chest - both set of eyes peering in to one another. One of the most cocky smirks you have ever seen fell upon his Prince's lips - kissing the side of your mouth as he hiked your leg up around his waist, rolling his hips up into you. The broken moan leaving your lips made you flush, not wanting to give into his advances already. Moving your lips to press against the shell of his ear, you bite down harshly on his lobe, spitting your words out, "If you touch me again, I will break your fucking hand - Martell."

Tightening your hands into fists, you rolled your eyes as you sauntered back to the fireplace, using the poker to move around some of the burnt logs, "You're a long way from the brothels, Prince Oberyn." Shooting a glare at the man standing before you, you groaned as you focused on the amber flames - hoping they would take you away from this entire moment. In a way you were pleased to see Prince Oberyn again, but another was cursing you for feeling this type of way. Oberyn had a huge reputation across all of Westeros and Essos for being an intimate man; One who finds pleasure in all people. Nothing wrong with being sexually active, it was the fact that he could flirt with one and fuck another that made you feel sleazy, as if you were working around the corner at Little fingers establishments. There was a pride you had for not using sex to get to where you are, or what you wanted. Every now and again you did dabble but, it was nothing too exciting. A royal guard member here, a squire there - basic as men could come. "Ah but little canary, I am exactly where I need to be," The thick Dornish tang of Oberyn's accent caused goosebumps to rise on your skin - though you were fanning the flames. Silently you cursed yourself for having a wave of arousal pool in your heated center.

"No, you're not. Why have you come to my chambers?" It was a bit unethical to say the least for Margaery to bathe in your chambers, then again any chance she could get away from Joffrey she was taking. But she would never tell anyone that, she would never let out that she comes to your room for solace in the darkest hours on the mornings. Sucking your teeth whilst refusing to look at Oberyn, you put the fire poker down to add two more logs - breathing out in a ragged manner, "The Queen insisted I become acquainted with her lovely handmaiden." The words shot through your body like ice, freezing you from the inside out. There was no way Margaery would, even if she saw what Oberyn was doing to you earlier. Shaking your head you pounced to your feet, staring daggers into the man before you, silently cursing how you eyes ran up and down his beautiful physique. The urge to strike on him like a viper was strong, wanting to take the name for yourself. "Margaery would never, get lost," You sighed, rubbing the heel of your hand against tired eyes - setting the plush towels down to the side of the tub. Oberyn wasted no time rubbing the small of your back through your baby blue dress - letting the soft chiffon run over his fingertips.

"Aw, are you not enveloped by my charm?" You were, that was the sad part. A side of you wanted to submit in his grasp, let him pull anything he wanted from your body - but you could give him that pleasure. Straightening your back out, you shoved the Prince away from your body - making your way across the room to focus in on your desk chair, pulling your papers closer; Your quill only a few inches away. "Charm? You?" You spat in the direction of the Dornish Prince, watching how his mouth quirked into a hefty smirk. Following your steps over in front of your desk, he watched how you intricately started to write across the creased parchment, the story you had been working on for many moons now. It was one full of tradition revolving around Samhain; A foreign concept you were not well versed in but, it did not stop you from telling the spooky tale. Rolling your eyes as Oberyn comes to your side, you pushed your chair further to the left, cricking your neck to ease the ever-lasting tension; "Please." Oberyn was loving just how playfully snappy you are, loving to tease but hating to give him any/all satisfaction. With you it was like pulling teeth; Men like this never deserved your attention as Mace always said.

Breaking your concentration from writing was the feeling of his warm touch pulling at the strap of your dress, dipping it down enough to show the skin of your shoulder. Oberyn was quick on his feet, you had to give him that. Almost instantly his lips attached to your neck over the back of the chair, biting down on the pillowy skin. There was something so pleasurable about his plush lips but you could not give in, your hands tightening into fists whilst trying to contemplate your next move. "Such a delicate little thing, I wonder how wild you could be without your restraints," Oberyn hummed deeply, letting it ripple from his broad chest. Trailing his strong fingers down the front of your dress he wound up slinking his fingers across the swell of your breast, watching ever so gently for your reaction. He was a man of many passions but, he would never force you into anything you were not comfortable with. He was not going to let anything like that come about, killing anyone who dared do that to those he cared for. Whimpering at his words you managed to sling a sentence together, but not before he chuckled at your broken state, "I-I don't know what you mean - I do not have any restraints."

You did, and you knew that you did. It wasn't all of your fault, King's Landing made everyone stressed and tensed. Constantly dealing with the brutality and the bullshit being thrown your way caused you to develop thick skin; Beautiful personality lost in the brazen attitude of the Capital. Lamb to slaughter was the best way to describe how it felt to oppose the Baratheon's, the Lannister's and any house that was prevalent within the Red Keep. Leaning forth into Oberyn's touch, he hummed pleasantly against your neck, giving you the tentative stirs of his fingers against your nipples, "Oh but my little canary, you do. You carry the burden of life around with you like it was a badge of honor - that has made you so uptight." Hearing the truth fall from his lips caused your body to go rigid - the pleasure and sweet satisfaction he laced your body with just from a single touch dissipated. Slowly you craned your neck to stare up at him, trying to threaten him with only your eyes; Oh how bright they shone against the wet moonlight. Only a mere few inches from your face was the Prince, his eyes blackened due to bodily intoxication; "If looks could kill, I would have an honorable death," He winked, pushing himself away from you.

"Prince Oberyn, please leave my chambers immediately." It was getting out of hand this small game of cat and mouse, how he was chasing you with a pining sensation rather than fear. In those beautiful pants giving you little to imagine, you could see his taut backside pounding softly with every small step he took. Of course he noticed, it would be unlike him if he didn't. Slamming your open palms against the fresh oak desk, you rose quickly enough to show how serious you were. Daggers in your eyes and huffed breaths releasing in your wake made Oberyn's cock twitch - wanting to see you submit to him, release that hidden tension you were so adamant about not having. Waving off your excuse of madness, he let the hottest water of the bath ripple against his open palm - moaning at the sensation, "You need to relax, dear canary - sing for me. Come, join my bath," Oberyn pouted right in your direction - catching you with a meek smile. He waited, and waited, and waited for your loving response, knowing you were only moments away from fully cracking. But alas he was wrong, you would not submit without a fight; "No."

Shrugging your one word off as nothing, Oberyn began to hum as he let his shawl fall to the floor - pooling right behind him. His gaze never left yours as he pulled at the leather ties to his slacks, the softened leather outlining his thick cock deliciously. He was teasing you with every movement, not pulling his pants down right away but instead lowering them slowly. Each inch that he released caused the pool of arousal to grow between your legs - his shaft of his girthy length coming into full view. Under candlelight it was so tan, mostly from the nude bathing on the beach he loved to do, but his purple tip - begging to be sucked called your name; Your breath hitching in your throat. Winking at your shocked state, he finally let the pants pool on the floor with a loud groan - the colder air nipping at his bare skin. It did not take the Prince long to slip into the bath, sighing out heavily at the amazing feeling of the hot water on his skin. "Mmm, you made this perfect for me," his moan of appreciation opened the floodgates in your core, causing your legs to part slightly. What would he think if you dropped your dress and joined him? Would he welcome you with opened arms, or would he criticize you? Many thoughts of what you wanted this man to do to you flew through your mind, the dilemma was whether to act on them.

"You're an absolute nuisance, I will have the King's Guard escort you out," with the slam of your hands they came in contact with the wood again, causing Oberyn to jolt slightly in the water. Laughing at your remark he nodded, agreeing that he was a nuisance. He took great pride in knowing how much he pushed people beyond their limits, wanting them to see what life truly had to offer - what they should not be afraid of in hindsight. Life is all about adventure and new opportunity; Oberyn's mission was to make sure you felt the love and want that you deserve, that you craved from a young age. He knew what it was like to be unwanted, but never let that define him. Dorne is for lovers - he wanted every part of Westeros to see, feel, and hear it. Sinking further into the water of the golden tub, he deeply inhaled the beautiful clove scent, reminding him of Sunspear as he spoke, "When was the last time you were properly given the bounty of pleasure?" His face did not falter in the slightest, remaining strong and curious with a tightly pulled lip. Pondering your own expression wasn't hard to do in this lighting, but he could see the heat rising across your skin.

"Shut up-" you stopped yourself quick, not wanting to elaborate on what your mind was thinking. It had been a long, long time - before you even got to the Red Keep when you last experienced pleasure. The last person you ever let touch you in such an intimate setting was Podrick Payne, a chance encounter one night while Tyrion and Sansa were on some kind of retreat. Though it was one of the best sexual experiences, it was innocent with only fingers and mouths being of use. Nothing in between to really get your fancy going. Multiple nights you lulled yourself to sleep with the delicate touch of your own fingers inside your aching core - not thick or long enough to truly graze that one spongy spot. Now with Oberyn, you know that man could find that spot within seconds to have you see stars, to give yourself the beautiful release you were so desperately seeking. He would pull ripple upon ripple of your orgasm from you effortlessly, still begging you for more at the end of the day. That is all you have been craving since he touched you on the wedding day; "Ah, we must have a virgin in our midst."

It was a vicious slap back to reality, hearing such a skilled man call you a virgin. You were nowhere near that pure, losing yours within the last of your teenage years. The anger boiling over in your bloodstream was making you nervous at how badly you were going to snap at Oberyn. You didn't want to lose your cool with him, especially since you were starting to warm up to the idea of him pleasing you. But everyone in King's Landing made fun of you for being pure, uptight and a bitch - so it was like he was adding it the bullying deep within your mind. Pinpricks of tears latched themselves to your lashes as you tried to get them away, not wanting to cry in front of the Prince of Dorne. Rounding your desk you were like a bat out of hell, rushing over to the side of Oberyn as he laid in the tub, comfortable and at peace. Lowering your gaze to stare right at eye level, you let your vision go red before lashing out the harshest words you could muster, wanting them to burn, and sting; "I fucking hate you, Martell. You are one of those most bat shit fuckers I have ever laid my eyes upon, and one that is too slow on the dr-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Oberyn's wet hand came up quick from the hot water, slamming right against the juncture of your throat. Your knees buckled as they came into contact with the cold stone floor, your breath caught in his tight grasp. Bringing your hands up to grip at his wrist you saw the amused grin on his pouty lips, how his eyes slanted slightly to engage in your retort. Bringing your face closer to his, he let his fingers press down on your pulse point to cut the blood flow off - pounding of blood in your ears became deafening when he fanned his hot breath of your parted lips, "I'm what?" The words were calm, too calm for your liking. The fact that Oberyn did not bat an eye at what he was doing spoke measures; How he man handled you without a single thought to accompany it. Gods what you would give to slam yourself down onto his lap right now, but of course that would be too easy, you wanted him to submit. "T-Too slow on th-he dr-r-raw!" You managed to croak the words out with a playful smirk, but Oberyn was not having it. He moved so quickly to pin your face down against the side of the tub, letting some of the water splash against your chin and neck. Under your dress your thighs were trembling at the sudden surge of dominance; Your teeth putting your lip tightly.

"You grab a woman like a bitch in heat; Pathetic." This was not helping your case at all, with Oberyn tightening his grip around your neck as the harsh curl of the metal edge dug into your warm cheek. Wriggling against his restraint had you seeing stars, his warm hand in contrast with your cool skin - how you could feel every inch of his callouses from years and years of sparring. To be man handled by someone as experienced as Oberyn was what you needed - to give up control and order for a little bit just to feel, to embrace, and enjoy. Maybe it wouldn't be so difficult to call a quits now, let this man reign over you and let everything be where it needed. He has had decades upon decades of practice, why would you be any different to the first timers he had? "You know what I think?" Oberyn's words were almost distant when he spoke, though his lips were pressed right against your temple. Gulping down the pool of saliva making itself known within your mouth you tried to keep your focus, but could only imagine how that gorgeous chin strap and moustache would feel between your legs, against your bare thighs - rubbing that sweet bundle of nerves right at the top of your sex. If his hold wasn't so tight, you would be a moaning mess.

You had not realized that Oberyn was not liking your quietness, or how lost in thought you truly were to his advances. The only thing you could think of in this moment was how good you would look bouncing on his cock, dragging your nails down his chest on your bed - letting the Prince have his way with you. A harsh crack against your backside caused you to silently yelp, bringing your gaze back up to him as the devilish grin grew - seeing the pleasure building within your eyes; "I think because you have never known the touch of someone so skilled in their craft, one who will not be a disappointment, it has caused you to have a Lannister stick lodged so far up this beautiful ass, you cannot let yourself enjoy the smaller things life has to offer." Each word he let out was given new purpose, causing your chest to ignite. He was not wrong, it was invisible but to those who paid close attention to detail could see how far it was truly lodged up there. There was a glint in his eyes that showed he wanted to remove it, to let those barbed edges slid out of the deepened gashes they created. You did not deserve to be afraid, or scared to take advantage of life; You deserved happiness and freedom - Oberyn wanted to give you that though you were a tough nut to crack. "Flowers; A bastard, are you not?" The quick change in subject caused your heart to plummet, his hand to release small off of your neck.

"That has-" You began, shaking your head as far as he would allow. Oberyn was not having it though, knowing you were going to do what you did best - deny. Pushing your throat down harder against the metal rim he cut your words off quickly, not wanting you to put more negativity out when he was trying to give you some goodness - the greatness you deserved to have. "In Dorne we welcome bastards; Sand is not a name to be ashamed of but one to take great reward in. Hell, I have eight bastard girls myself." That was always a part of the Southern part of Westeros you loved, how the Dornish took pride in bastards rather than shut them away like they were garbage. Deep down you always pondered what it would be like to grow up in Dorne, to be appreciated and loved in a multitude of ways, rather than bullied and tormented. Hearing Oberyn mention his daughters caused your heart to explode with admiration; Just by simple words you could tell how proud he was of them. Though you hardened and sarcastic nature would not let you praise that man for it, instead your retort would be one that Oberyn would not shy away from - especially if it meant punishing you; "Good for you, old man."

It surprised you how quickly and clearly you managed to let that seep out, how the best insult you could come up with is age. Though your words were small they did have a greater impact on the man, though he would not show it properly. One of the things he had been most worried about recently was the small patch of grey hair that littered his temple, along with the softening of his belly, showing his age off a bit more than normal. You did not mean it in such a horrid way, no, it was meant as a teasing tactic to see what he would do to you. Seeing the slight hurt in his eyes made you feel tiny, small and childlike whimpering for help, the cool burst across your body was fear inducing. "You think 42 is old, little canary?" Though you couldn't tell now how much your words offended the Prince when he was beaming down at you, his body half in and half out of the water - the gorgeous outline of his length barely breaking the surface. How you wanted to just reach down and grab hold onto it, suck on the tip until you could taste his salty essence. "No, I think you're old," you meant for it to sound intimidating, but with the way you sated at his cock, your eyes told another story.

"Have you met such an old man who can pull such pleasure from your body in only two minutes?" Oberyn smirked at your expression, flicking his tongue out in a way to mock, and mimic what he could do to your aching mound. When his hand released off of your neck you let out an embarrassingly loud moan at the thought of Oberyn eating you out, clamping your eyes shut - but not moving your head. Perching himself up on his knees, Oberyn pulled you to your feet, letting his eyes wander across your beautiful dress-clad form. Roaming hands found the luscious ribbon holding the entire thing together, slowly tugging on each one to let your dress shed. You could not deny him this pleasure of seeing you in the nude - fuck you didn't want him to stop. The first set came undone easily, leaving only the next two as your life support almost. This was a teasing tactic he was doing, seeing how much you really wanted him and how much you actually played into his games; How much he played into yours. "Just let go, for one dear y/n. Let me take care of you-"

"I'd rather die," you cursed yourself silently at your words, sighing out. It was becoming tiring for you to keep this charade up - draining you of your happy essence to a man who wanted to worship you. Sucking in a deep breath, you let your eyes meet his finally, after so long of pondering what could be. Instinctively you placed your hands right on his shoulders to brace yourself, feeling the last of your straps become undone. Though your words felt like acid in your mouth, Oberyn smirked at your boldness - telling off a part of the royal family, which in some cases, would get you killed. The only was you wanted to die at the hands of Oberyn was by his mouth, his fingers and his cock. You'd want to die by the pleasure and overstimulation, rather than his perfected craft of poison. "I can have that arranged, you know," Oberyn challenged as he released the last of your bindings, letting your nude body stand before him as the soft fabric of your dress pooled at your feet. Instantly to the cool room your nipples pebbled for Oberyn, which caused him to latch his lips onto the tightened bud. Suckling gently to give you that new found pleasure, he held your hand as he lowered you to him in the tub - wanting you to relax. You were finally giving into him.

Oberyn held your thighs as you lowered, wanting to let your legs cradle his waist while holding you close, letting you feel the skin to skin contact you have lacked. You had to admit the water was perfect, how hot it was against the cold room made your body shiver with delight. Hot baths like this were reserved for the Queen only, you had to deal with lukewarm; This changed everything. Every inch of stress and bullshit you have had to deal with over the last few years simply melted away to the scent of citrus and clove; The warm hands holding your thigh and back released positive endorphins to cloud that dull mind. In a way, under Oberyn's grasp, you felt like you again - not the distant memory of you that was locked away. The wet hand that laid against your back trailed wet touches up your spine, leading to the back of your neck. But this time when he held you, it wasn't out of anger - but love. Pulling your face towards him easily, Oberyn braced himself against your body as you did the same, knowing exactly what was going to happen next.

Gently Oberyn lurched forward to press his plush lips to yours with passion; Not enough to be marked as lust but, affection. The kiss was slow, and sweet - no real sign of sexual tension. How perfectly his lips molded to yours only amplified the slick between your legs, dribbling onto Oberyn's exposed cock. Your hand came to wrap around Oberyn's neck, pulling slightly at the tuft of curls he had flowing down the back of his head. The whimper escaping your lips was immediately swallowed by the Prince, his hold on your thigh becoming harsh. Pulling back slightly Oberyn turned breathless with a smile, pushing some of the dampened hair out of your face with ease; "See? Now was that so difficult?" Oberyn's chuckle was like music to your ears, the soft and pillowy nature felt like the home you never knew before. Returning his beautiful smile with such ease, you pressed your forehead against his with a sigh, loving how everything you have been harboring was slipping away, not threatening to come back as long as you were in Oberyn's arms. "Little canary, can I make you sing for me?" Oberyn's voice dipped lower, a seductive stance coming out as he laced his fingers in your hair, tugging your gentle locks. Breathlessly you responded, grinding your molten center against his aching length, earning a harsh slap against your ass, "Yes, release my body of the impurity the Lannister's have put on me."

"Don't you worry, my gorgeous sun, let me take care of you. Let me show you how we relieve tension in Dorne."

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 2nd

Day 2: Piercing // Double Penetration // Voyeurism

Oberyn Martell x F!Reader x Marcus Acacius

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Threesomes, oil as lube, unprotected sex, double penetrations, two cocks/one hole, mentions of pleasurable pain, mentions of bisexuality, cream pie

|| Kinktober List || 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.

It is not often that Oberyn Martell is surprised. He has seen things, experienced things along his travels. Riding with the Second Sons and brawling in the fighting pits of Mereen. A Prince of Dorne, he has done as he pleased and as a result, he has carved out a reputation as the Red Viper and not limited himself on the pleasures of the flesh. 

Setting his cup down, he leans forward, his eyes disbelieving and he shakes his head. “You have never shared a woman?” He demands. “Or a man? It is possible if the man in question is experienced enough.” He huffs and continues on. “Truly? You did not have a whore suck your cock while she was plowed by another? Or shared her tight cunt, stretched over both of your cocks?” His voice is dripping with disbelief and awe that such a pleasure would be denied to the general in front of him. “Or perhaps a cock in her ass and another in her cunt? None of those pleasures have been bestowed upon you?”

The strong, sweet Dornish wine nearly goes up his nose as Marcus Acacius chokes at the blunt way of speaking that the prince has. He has discovered that this man, royalty, is plain speaking and can be biting if provoked, his wit sharp and his dagger sharper. From what he has found since arriving in the seat of the territory of Dorne, he has found all of its people to be bold and brash in a way that makes him envious. 

“No.” He shakes his head and sets the cup down on the table that he is seated at with the prince. Answering the questions that he has and asking his own of this realm that seems so different from Rome. “There were orgies, but I- I was often training with the men.” He explains. “I did not attend many events.”

That makes Oberyn snort and shake his head, his other hand stroking your thigh idly as you lounge on his lap. “He didn’t attend the orgies, Dove.” He murmurs to you, glancing at your lips and leaning in to steal a kiss simply because the urge takes him. 

Marcus shifts, glancing away from the moment because it seems that the prince has no qualms about showcasing his affection for you in front of anyone. He’s not immune to attraction, he’s had his own share of women and a few men, but it was always just a singular encounter. 

You know what Oberyn is thinking the second that his hand slides under your thin, silky dress. Bare underneath and already wet for him as his fingers dance up your thighs as his tongue slides against yours. Used to the way his mind works and the way that he will demand that pleasures be explored. Cupping his cheeks, you pull back from the kiss to peck his lips and turn to look at the general as he stares at the banner that hangs on the wall behind the table. The banner of house Martell. 

“He is handsome.” You concede playfully, giving voice to the thoughts that are mirroring his own. You know that Oberyn is attracted to the other man, even if he is older than Oberyn himself. Your finger runs down the edge of Oberyn’s jaw as Marcus’s head snaps back towards you, his eyes wide when he hears your words. “I would not mind taking his cock.” 

You talk about him as if he wasn’t there. Boldly and bluntly, just like the man you are seated on. Noticing that Oberyn’s fingers are drawing your dress up, he quickly glances away and tries to ignore the low chuckle of amusement. 

"What about both of us, Dove?” He nearly chokes again when he hears the question and underneath the soft linen tunic he is wearing, his cock twitches despite his shock. 

You tut, leaning in and kissing the bare skin above the thin line of hair that frames his jaw. “As if I would have it any other way, lover.” You huff, moving back and nipping his ear with your teeth to make him hiss. Your eyes watch Marcus and you smirk when he doesn’t look outraged at the prospect. 

“A cunt is a glorious thing.” Oberyn reaches down and taps your thigh with the hand that is not pushing your dress up and you obliged him, spreading your legs so that the general can see your cunt. “It stretches to birth our children,” he coos, slowly stroking your folds and you watch as the general’s eyes are very closely following his movements. “You do not think that your cock will fit with mine?”

His mouth is dry and he gulps down a swallow of the wine, nearly slamming the cup down and he clears his throat. “I had not thought of it in that way. He admits, licking his lips and finding himself more than intrigued by how it would feel. 

The prince smirks and leans in to kiss your jaw below your ear. “Go make sure his cock is hard enough for you to sink down on.” He tells you, pulling his hand away and letting you stand to move over to the other man. 

This is happening. Marcus watches you and there is little smugness in his stature as he opens his arms for you to straddle him. His cock will not be a problem, already hard and starting to lift the folds of his tunic when you lean in to kiss him. You are a beautiful woman after all.

He's not shy about kissing you once your lips are pressed together. You know that the general would not be untried but it is thrilling to know that he can take command like your lover. It will make an interesting combination. 

His hands are surprisingly greedy as he pulls your thin dress off your body. The sword calloused hands scraping deliciously on your skin as he palms your tits and then your ass. 

You know your lover is watching, he enjoys watching you when you want pleasure with another. 

His tunic is easily removed and you enjoy the differences between the men you will have tonight. Marcus is broader, fuller in his chest and arms than your Red Viper. Both men are strong, deadly, but in contrasting ways. If you think of Oberyn as a spear, then Marcus would be a battering ram. 

You are wet enough that it is easy to sink down onto the thick cock of the Roman general. Making him moan into your mouth and his hips jerk up, pushing deeper until he is buried deep. Oberyn hums behind you, the shuffling of fabric telling of his own clothes being removed and you turn to find him with a hand around his cock as he slowly strokes himself. 

“Are you- sure you can take both of us?” Marcus pants, his own eyes fixed on the prince’s cock and feeling slightly doubtful since he knows his own is just as impressive. “Will it not hurt?”

Your eyes flutter slightly and your walls tighten around his cock as you think about it. “Some hurt feels good.” You admit breathlessly, “the pinch of pain will be far outweighed by the pleasure.” 

The scented oil that Oberyn keeps on his belt is used, applied to his cock and you smile when you hear the slickness of it. “The prince will make sure that it is good.” You coo to Marcus. “That oil helps, much better than spit.” Turning your head, you nip his earlobe with your teeth, making him moan again. 

Marcus holds you waist, waiting to be instructed as Oberyn moves behind you. Your prince caresses your ass and reaches down, his hand cupping the balls of the other man and the root of his cock, chuckling when he groans loudly and twitches inside you. 

“He will be good in our bed.” Oberyn kisses your shoulder, letting go of Marcus to turn your head towards his for a kiss. Tender and brief before he is leaning in and pressing his chest against your back, his hips shuffling closer. 

Marcus can do nothing more than to hold you still, almost breathless as he feels the head of the other man’s cock slide against the base of his shaft and press against it. He’s had a cock pressed against his before, but this is different, his cock already being tightly held by your cunt gives this a new sensation. 

“Let me in, Dove.” Oberyn coos, caressing your back as he adjusts slightly, finding the perfect position to push the head of his cock inside you. 

Moaning, you lean into Marcus’s chest, already breathing heavily as Oberyn rocks his hips shallowly, slowly letting the head slip inside you before he groans your name. “She is tighter now, no?” Oberyn chuckles at the way the general’s eyes seem to glaze over in passion, his fingers digging into your hips to anchor you to his lap. 

It’s intense, there is no way that it could be anything but when you have two well endowed men occupying the same space inside your body. Every gasp and whimper of pleasure that comes from any of the three of you makes you wetter, your cunt gushing and dripping over their cocks. Adding Oberyn’s entrance and making it even more pleasurable as Marcus gets the added sensation of having his cock stroked without even moving. 

When his hips are flush against your ass, all of you moan. “She is- fuck-” Marcus groans, closing his eyes and his cock pulses inside you, already close to cumming. “It- I can’t-”

Oberyn chuckles breathlessly and reaches around you to caress the general’s cheek. “He is overwhelmed, Dove.” He coos, enjoying the wrecked look on the other man’s face. His own cock twitches inside you, eager to move. 

“Move.” You gasp out, your eyes slipping closed as you relax. “Both of you. I want to feel you.” You can feel Marcus’s thighs trembling, the unspent energy in his arms as he starts to lift you off his cock slowly as Oberyn pulls his hips back.

You whimper, feeling achingly empty as both men pull back to where just the tips of their cocks are inside you, only to make you yelp when they drive back into your body in unison. Oberyn growls and Marcus moans, each man taken with the feeling and your reaction to it. 

It seems to break something inside the Roman general, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss while he starts to pump his hips up, driving his cock into you at a pace that steals your voice. 

You can tell he’s lost in the pleasure, the scrubbing of the two cocks against one another as the pace shifts to alternating thrusts, the constant friction that is aided by the oil and the slick of your cunt as it weeps in pleasure from their attention. Moans lift to the heavens and are breathed into your skin when he pulls away from your lips to bury his face into your breasts. 

Oberyn is never a passive lover, his hands stroke your body, cupping your tits as Marcus descends into them, his clever fingers teasing your nipples until you are moaning in ecstasy.

 The steady buildup is almost maddening as the angle of Marcus’s cock pierces something deep inside you and makes you beg for more. Every thrust feels like they are pushing into your stomach, stretching you out even more. They are using your cunt and you love it, the desperation in Marcus’s thrusts is matched by Oberyn’s, each man working towards their goal of pleasure and making you scream. 

Curses tumble from their lips and yours, everything forgotten but the way they feel buried inside you. Every time they pull their hips back, your body mourns the loss of the fullness but the perfect moment where both cocks are even inside you makes up for it. 

They push you higher, every thrust makes your body sing and light up in utter hedonistic bliss. “Marcus - Oberyn!” Your eyes roll back, body poised to be pulled apart by the next thrust while your core curls in on itself. Lighting up, your body heaves and bucks between theirs pressing into you. Keeping you in place while they rock into your cunt over and over again. The next cry is even louder, your cunt spasming around their lengths as you soak them in hot waves of slick. 

Marcus hisses, white hot pleasure racing up his spine as he drives his hips up. Giving over to the needs of his body as he manages to pump into your three or four more times before he is trying to bury himself deep into your cunt. 

Oberyn moans, feeling the heat of his spend filling you, coating both of their cocks as he continues to work in and out of your cunt. His teeth clenched together as he reaches down and swipes some of the other man’s seed mixed with your juices to taste. 

Groaning, his pace picks up, his hips slapping against your ass furiously to make up for the fact that the general is starting to soften inside you. “You enjoyed yourself.” He observes breathlessly, smirking at the other man’s relaxed and drained expression. Like he had just exhausted himself. You moan and clench down around them both again, making Oberyn moan your name. 

“Fuck yes.” Marcus chuckles, watching in awe as the prince continues to fuck you, his cock still sliding against his and making him twitch even though he is spent for the moment. It makes him wish he was younger and could harden again almost instantly. Finding the entire thing the most addictive and erotic thing that he’s ever done in his life. Enthralled when the prince stiffens, pushing deep and flooding your already filled cunt with another wave of hot cum. 

All of you pant, you lean against the general’s chest and listen to his heart beat as he reaches down and gathers the combined fluids from all of you, bringing them up to lick his own fingers clean with a groan. “What do you think of it now, Acacius?” Oberyn asks, grinning when you clench around them again. 

“I think we will need to do that again.” Marcus hums, grinning lazily and wondering what other pleasure he will find while he is in Dorne.

[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.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Wrap Around Pt.4

Warnings: siblingxsibling implied, longing

Words: 2367

Summary: You and Oberyn enjoy Elia's wedding.

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANY OF THE WARNINGS/TAGS

Part 1 Part 2   Part 3   

There couldn’t have been a more beautiful day than the one of Elia’s wedding to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Your elder sister was covered with the most precious fabrics imported from Essos. Clinging to her torso and flowing outward in an elegant skirt with embroidered beads and tinkling bells. Her lashes were long, lacquered by a special blend of kohl and honey. Without a doubt a vision before your eyes, you had never seen your sister quite as radiant as she was on that day.

The groom, equally dazzling for the eyes to behold. In the great Sept of Baelor, they stood side by side as the Westerosi sept drolled on and on about the light of the Mother and perseverance of the Warrior that would keep them both safe in their matrimony. Rhaegar’s typical Targaryen traits were enhanced by the harsh black of his suit, plates styled as if they were dragon scales. Blinding silver hair was pulled back into a lengthy braid down his back. They were charming side by side, tying Dorne and Westeros together.

You and Oberyn had traveled far as the wedding ceremony would take place in King’s Landing. Under the domed ceiling, you and your brother watched Elia become tied to the Targaryen prince. Holding his hand as a gentle type of sorrow overwhelmed you in that moment. No longer would you be able to run down the hall and jostle her awake by jumping on her bed. Elia was no longer just your sister, she belonged to Westeros now and would one day be expected to become a dutiful queen. Sunspear would feel vacant without her warmth. If only she had married a Dornishman. That way she would at least be closer to you if you wanted to see her. King Aerys had believed her to be the only one worthy of marrying his heir; after all, she was one of the only princesses in the Seven Kingdoms. It was meant to be an honor, that’s what Doran told you.

Having noticed the tears brimming in our eyes, Oberyn squeezed your hand to let you know that he was still there and that everything would be okay. You knew for certain that you would not lose Oberyn to marriage anytime soon, probably not ever. He would always be by your side and if he could help it that would never change. He was a constant that you refused to relinquish.

You hold onto his hand and will your tears to dry, this was not a cause for sorrow, you should be smiling and celebrating along with the others present. This was monumentous for your sister. One day she would become Queen of Westeros. This was the dream match of a lifetime for Elia and you wanted to be happy for her. Even her groom was dazzling beautiful. The greatest opportunity that would ever come by Elia. The match had made Doran pause briefly before accepting the marriage proposal. While Westeros and Dorne were on fairly good terms, many still looked down upon a 'foreign' princess being wed to their crown prince. Elia would be surrounded by Westerosi, leaving her to be the only Dornish presence in the capital. You worried that eventually when Rhaegar would be forced to leave her side that Elia would experience unfound loneliness. She had always had friends and family around her. Now she would be isolated from those that loved her dearly. What did these people know about your beloved sister? Would they know how to stop her tears before the spilled out of her eyes? Certainly not. They wouldn't know the first thing to do when she wasn't feeling well and how to best deal with her weak constitution.

Westeros better treat her right. If not, well, you would have to think about moving to the capital to be with her. You didn't like the idea of leaving Dorne permanently for Westeros. You loved your homeland more than any other place you had visited. The people were lively and unjudgemental and had an open mind. Why would you live anywhere else? You would do so for Elia. But if you were to leave Dorne, you were sure Oberyn would follow right behind you.

Your face was already flushed from the bottomless glasses of wine you had consumed as you waltzed up to the bridal table where lords and ladies were giving the happy couple gifts and their blessings. The Great Hall that housed the iron throne was already becoming stuffy from the many bodies that were dancing and drinking and merely having the time of their life. Candles and lanterns illuminated the venue and also cast a warm glow over everyone. Music danced around the hall from the performers that had been gifted for this special occasion. When it was your turn, Elia broke out into a shining grin and introduced you to Rhaegar.

"A pleasure to meet you, Princess." Rhaegaer takes your hand and kisses your knuckles as was custom for highborn ladies. "Your sister has told me so much about you."

"All good things I hope." You tease and smile at your older sister.

"Well, I had to warn him that you can be a little imp." Her laughter filled you up with content. All you wanted was for Elia to be happy after years of having taken care of you and Oberyn which certainly had not been easy.

Leaning forward, you kiss both sides of her cheeks. "Everything is so lovely, Elia and you look quite the vision."

"Your wedding will be just as lovely, I'm sure." Elia smiles at you in that endearing way that had you thinking that you would die for your older sister if the need ever arose. You loved her so much that you just couldn't bare to tell her that you most likely would never marry. There would be no point in it, at least in your eyes. Not if you couldn't be with the person your heart was craving for.

You cast a secret glance ove rthe festivities and immediatgely find Oberyn canoodling with a group of lords and ladies, probably entertaining them with one of his adventures.

As if feeling your gaze on him, Oberyn looks your way and smiles as he continues talking. That smile meant just for you. Easy to hide your blush from obtrusive eyes, you realize Elia hadn't been fooled. Of course not. She had practically raised you and Oberyn. When it came to her younger siblings, nothing flew over her head.

Her smile became strained and you immediately regretted your cockiness. You hung your head slightly as Elia turns to her groom, her pleasant smile having returrned. "Wouldn you mind terribly if I left for a few moments?'

Rhaegar grinned, taking her hand in his and giving it a chaste kiss. "Whatever my bride desires."

Maybe you would reconsider marriage if you found a potential suitor as handsome as Rhaegar Targaryen, for he rivaled Oberyn in terms of looks and charm.

A blush made your sister's cheeks glow, seeing the gleam in her eyes. She was truly in love with Rhaegar, that much was already clear. Good. At least you owuldn't have to worry about Elia being stuck in a marriage she detested.

Elegantly, Elia excuses herself and moves around the table to take your arm and lead you away. She lead you further and further away from the party until the sounds of laughter and music became a distant buzz. The halls of the Red Keep were eerily quiet as Elia finally releases your arm.

"Oh no. You have that look on your face you always get before scolding me." You nervously say but she is not in the laughing mood. It put a damper on her beautiful face and otherwise jubilent atmosphere.

"I need you to be serious, (y/n)" Elia whispers, her eyes glancing down making her long lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. "From now on, King's Landing is my home. I won't be at Sunspear to keep an eye on you and Oberyn. Don't try to deny it. I know. I've always known."

Your stomach performed acrobatic tricks inside of you. Never had Elia mentioned the odd dance you and Oberyn tiptoed around. Oh, you were aware that she may have an inclining; she would be blind not to notice the longing looks you and your brother shot one another. Lingering caresses that a brother shouldn't dispaly toward his sister.

You wanted to curl into yourself. "Elia, lets not ruin your wedding."

She shakes her head, face filled with determination and. . . fear? "My love, I need you to listen to me and heed my words. I love you both dearly, but I'm worried about you and Obberyn. I will no longer be able to keep an eye on you. You must not cross the point of no return with him. Please, for my sake. I know you love each other intensely, but its a love that can never come to fruition. You know that as does Obery. It's. . . immoral and if Doran were to ever discover you two, I know he'll force you to marry a far away lord. If anyone outside our family were to discover your secret. . . it can be a cause for imprisonment. For my sake, please. . ."

Tears blinded you before you could hastily wipe them away. It utterly broke you to agree to such a thing but you would do anything for Elia. Besides. . . you already knew that there could be no actual romantic relationship with Oberyn. It would forever be an impossible love that would haunt you. "Okay. . ."

Relief made her shoulders sag but there was still a melancholy in her eyes. "I'm sorry, (y/n). I know one cna't control who they fall in love with."

Your chest was hurting as you were supressing the overwheliming devastation that was swallowing you up. Shaking your head, you try to put on a brave face for your sister. "No, I know. . . It's alright. You should get back to your husband."

"(y/n)-"

I'm alright, Elia. I just need a moment to compose myself."

She hesitates to leave you, her natural instinct forbidding her to leave when she knew you were sad. Despite her wavering feelings, Elia sulks away; back to her party and prince.

Only when you knew she was out of earshot did you crumble against a stone column and succumb to your grief.

A truth you had known all along: You and Oberyn would never truly be together. It was sinful to even entertain such an idea. A brother and sister could never cross that boundary of blood. All along, you were aware of this while you thought you were harmlessly flirthing with Oberyn and he back.

"(y/n)?"

You choke on your own sobs at Oberyn's voice. Through your wet eyes, you look up at him. Handsome Oberyn who you had the misfortune of being his sister.

When he saw your tears, Oberyn immediately crouches down to touch your stained cheek. "Who did this to you?"

A bubble of laughter pushed past your tears. "I did."

"Now why would you do such a mean thing to my sweet sister?" Oberyn smiled a little to ease your distress. His thumb goes to wipe away your t4ears but you turn your face the other way. His gentle touch only made your heart ache even more. Oberyn pauses before leaning away. "I saw you and Elia leave the Great Hall. She came back alone. That's why I went searching for you. What happened?"

You fiddled with yoru fingers, refusing to meet his prying eyes.

"What did Elia say to you?"

"Nothing bad. . . She just wanted me to promise that I'll behave myself around you from now on. Since she won't be living at Sunspear anymore. She's worried about us." Making sure to put an emphasis on that last word, yyou dare to finally lift your eyes.

Oberyn closed his eyes, leaning on his hands. "Oh. . ."

With a sniffle, you wipe your nose with your sleeve, not caring if it was unladylike. "I promised not to do anything that might warrant unwanted attention to us."

"Meaning?"

"You know what I mean." You held onto his attention, the furrowing of his brows and the dark shadows that flickered in his eyes. Oberyn wasn't stupid.

A shaky sigh deflats his chest. "We can't help it."

You nod. "I know. But everything Elia said to me is true. What we've flet between us for so long isn'nt right. If Doran sees what Elia does-"

"I'm not afraid of Doran."

"That's not the point, Oberyn. The point is that its not right for us to feel the way we do for eachother. I have to keep you at arm's length. It's for the best. Aroudn you, I feel like it would be so easy for me to slip and succumb to our feelings. We've already toed the line of whats appropriate for siblings. Each time its harder and harder to pull away."

His jaw ticks and you know tis painful for him to hear all of this. Neither ofyou had ever spoken about your incestuous feelings, it wasn't necessary to address it until now. It couldn't be avoided any longer.

You grasp his hand. "We can never cross that line of morality. That doesn't mean I'll love you any less."

Tenderess softened his features, smoothing ove rhis scowl as he lifts your hand and presses it agains this lips; the same hand that Rhaegar had briefly kissed. "You will always be the light of my life. That will never change."

"Can you really accept it? Your a creature who craves a physical relationship."

"I'll do anything to keep you in my life, (y/n)."

You wanted to cry all over again. For the love you would never have and the void in your heart that would always be vacant. No other man would ever live up to Oberyn. While you oculd have your flings and meaningless sex, no mand could fill up the palce that had always been meant for your brother.

Taglist:

@hoziersfairy​

@rosaliedepp​

@iiconicxpersona

@hiroikegawa

@msmorningstaarr

[puchosdementa]

i luv him guys this is real

[biggestsimponhere]

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

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

[guiltyasdave]

gold rush

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader x Dave York

word count: ~5.1k

summary: “You like him, princess?” Oberyn asks, a grin obvious in his tone. 

You nod silently, your eyes still trained on the man behind the boat’s steering wheel.

“So do I.” 

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be tugged, no use of y/n, kinda dom!Oberyn&Dave but they're just bossy really, unprotected p in v (which you shouldn't do with someone you just met), oral m&f receiving, threesome, a bit of m/m action but reader is the main character here, dirty talk, fingering, anal play (m receiving), praise kink, these three are freaky and i'm sure that i forgot something, if so please let me know <3

takes place in my modern!Oberyn universe but can be read as a standalone!

a/n: my plan was to write this for @secretelephanttattoo's secret springs event, which i'm criminally late to (i'm sorry, el!), but that is where the idea for dolphin tour dave came from. i didn't expect to go this feral with it lol

big hugs and thank you to @jolapeno for letting me cry about the complications of writing threesomes and figuring out the plot (read: positions) with me and @sizzlingcloudmentality for listening to me complain about this nonstop and gushing over the million snippets i sent and taking me seriously when i came to her with “i have an important question about giving head”

i'm very grateful that so many people seemed excited about this idea, i hope that it's everything you wished for and that you have a good time reading it!

dividers by @firefly-graphics <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

Waves are lapping against the boat’s hull, the ocean reflecting the soft orange and golden hues of the sun setting over the horizon. 

You’re leaning against the railing, relishing in the warmth that has sunk into your skin from the day on the water. A beaming smile seems to have permanently settled on your features after today’s trip, a cruise around the shore that resulted in fulfilling one of your lifelong dreams — getting to see dolphins in the open water, watching them race through the waves right beside you, their fins breaking through the surface.

You had squealed, unable to contain your excitement, committing every second to memory. A once in a lifetime experience, making this trip to Secret Springs one of the best vacations you’ve ever had. 

With the shore now rapidly approaching again, you’re drinking in your surroundings for the last few minutes, committing the whole day to memory, until it’s time to set foot on the mainland again.

However, your gaze keeps flitting back to the man steering the boat, who had been introduced as Dave and your captain for the day by the tour guide when you first boarded. You hadn’t been able to keep your eyes off of him all day, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his biceps was straining against the seams of his light blue t-shirt, the sharp jawline and the quiet concentration and competence that he exuded. 

Contrary to the tour guide, who kept chatting away, his mouth remained shut, full lips pursed, jaw clenching and unclenching. His eyes were piercing, keeping track of every movement, both out on the water and on the boat. There was no way he hadn’t noticed your staring, with the way his eyes had met yours a few times, his lips curling into a small smirk each time before he turned away again. 

Your boyfriend’s arms wrap around you from behind, his chin hooking over your shoulder. Hot breath fans against your skin, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching over your cheek as he places a swift kiss there. 

He follows your line of sight, an amused rumble from his bare chest vibrating against your backside. 

“You like him, princess?” Oberyn asks, a grin obvious in his tone. 

You nod silently, your eyes still trained on the man behind the boat’s steering wheel. He kisses you again, longer this time, lips lingering on the soft skin right behind your ear, his tongue catching a taste of the salt that has seeped into your whole body after the day of the water. 

“So do I.” 

You giggle, sinking deeper into his embrace. 

Dave is closed off at first when you walk up to him after he’s the last person to step off the boat. His jaw firmly set, giving the same air of quiet confidence that you’ve felt drawn to all day, but his fingers are twitching at his side when you approach him, his eyes flickering between you and Oberyn’s figure a few steps behind you. 

“Hey,” you smile sweetly, not missing the way his gaze quickly trails down your body in your short summer dress, before it flies back up to meet your eyes. “We were thinking, as a local you know all the best places around here, right?”

A wry grin grows on his face at the term local, but he hums in agreement. “Sure. How can I help you?” 

His voice travels right through you, deep and gravely, his words clipped with precision. Polite, but efficient. Entirely unlike Oberyn’s drawling purrs, but not any less intriguing. The cold exterior is drawing you in, challenging you to uncover what’s underneath.

“We wanted to go get a drink tonight, maybe you can show us the best spot for that?”

“Allow us to buy you one as well,” Oberyn chimes in from behind you, stepping closer and snaking one arm around your body. His hand comes to rest at your waist, sending warmth through the thin fabric that’s covering you. His thumb glides against the underside of your breast in a calculated movement, just short of grazing your nipple.

Even as you swallow down your responding whine, Dave’s gaze zones in on the movement, one eyebrow rising as his pupils dilate, his eyes turning darker. One corner of his mouth turns upwards.

He’s a quiet shadow moving beside the both of you, but he still keeps catching your glances at him, his pouty lips curling into a smirk each time. 

The bar he takes you to is less crowded than the ones right next to the beach that you’ve already visited, and the drinks aren’t as overpriced, but just as delicious. There’s a large deck on one side, with twinkling lights strung up between the poles and the scent of the surrounding flowers wafting through the air. 

Sinking into comfortable chairs in a corner, you sip on your drink and watch as Oberyn tries to get to know your companion better. He’s the more talkative one of the both of you, exuding the smooth charm and confidence that immediately drew you in when you first met him, but Dave doesn’t crack nearly as easily. 

His answers stay short, every word from his lips calculated, no information about him given freely. Heat is already gathering between your thighs, just from watching them. Both their presences overwhelming in the best way, both of them making you want them. 

It leaves you antsy, desperate to do something, something to be closer. You rise to your feet, extending a hand to Dave. “Dance with me?” 

His eyes widen a fraction, looking from your outstretched hand to Oberyn, who hasn’t moved an inch. “You don’t want to?”

Oberyn smirks, settling deeper into his seat, a picture of relaxation, but the tension of underlying excitement sparkling in his eyes isn’t lost on you. 

“No. I am enjoying myself right here.” 

Dave seems to consider for another moment, before he shrugs and his hand closes around yours. You love the feel of it, the warmth of his skin sinking into yours where you’re touching, his fingers calloused and rough against yours. The sight of him leaves your mouth dry, the shades of his face in the dim light, the dark pools of his eyes. They’re exactly the same shade as Oberyn’s, but where Oberyn is familiar, his eyes telling stories of love and joy every time he looks at you, like a warm bath that you can sink into, Dave’s eyes are like steel. Cold. Watchful. Not any less interesting. 

You start dancing, moving your body to the beat that’s playing from the speakers, a sensual rhythm that makes it easy to get closer to him, to get a taste of how his body would feel against yours. Letting yourself get lost in the high of the day, in the soft haze of the alcohol in your veins, in the nervous energy that’s bubbling inside of you at the prospect of this new adventure right in front of you.

As you grind against him, one hand curls around your hips, strong and determined, effortlessly stopping your movements. The simple touch is enough to make your knees go weak, holding the promise of power, of everything you want from him. He firmly holds you where you stand, putting some distance between the two of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His tone is still clipped, challenging in a way that sends heat through you. You like the no nonsense attitude, like the way his eyes are firmly trained on your face, the spark of something darker in them that makes you want more. 

“Dancing,” you pout, eyes widened in mock innocence. 

“Don’t bullshit me. Your boyfriend’s right there, sweetheart.” 

You turn to look at Oberyn, who’s already observing the both of you. He still seems relaxed, knees spread wide, lounging in his seat, but the hunger is burning in his expression. He teasingly raises an eyebrow at you and you return it with a grin, before your gaze finds Dave again. 

You take a step closer to him, leaning in to whisper into his ear. A small shudder runs through him.

“He doesn’t mind sharing.” 

The grip on your hips tightens, a low growl raising in Dave’s throat at your sudden proximity. 

“Is that so?”

You nod quietly, trailing your fingers over his chest. “He likes it.” 

His mouth is so close, close enough that you give in to the temptation and brush your lips against his. He growls again, louder this time, one hand curling around your neck to hold you right there as his teeth dig into your bottom lip. You sigh against his mouth, pliant under his grip, delighted at the change in his demeanor. 

His touch travels higher, up your sides until he’s almost in reach of your breasts and you’re slowly unraveling, your body desperate for more.

“Having all the fun without me, princess?” Oberyn turns up behind you, caging you between the both of them, mouthing at your neck and you whimper into Dave's mouth. 

“Thought— thought you were happy watching,” you gasp when he grinds against you and you feel his growing stiffness against your ass. 

He bites your neck gently, and you shudder again. 

A quiet look passes between the two men. You see the quiet question in Dave’s eyes, the evident satisfaction at what he finds in Oberyn’s, before he squares his shoulders and pulls up to his full height. 

A pleasant shiver travels up your spine as you watch the silent exchange. They’re two sides of the same coin, the same kind of energy, all confident and strong, but channeled so differently. Where Oberyn is all smooth, flowing like water and wrapping himself all around you, all-encompassing but almost impossible to grasp, Dave is nothing but hard edges, sharp enough to cut if you’re not careful. You want them both.

It’s dark in Dave’s apartment, only the faint glow from the moon and the streetlights filtering in through the windows. The rooms are almost eerily tidy, barely lived in. Your skin is still warm, both from the humid evening air outside and the heat that’s steadily growing inside of you at the prospect of what the night has in store for you. 

Still, the space you just entered somehow feels cold, much like the man that it belongs to. Except that, right now, that man’s lips are finding your neck, sucking at the same spots where Oberyn’s mouth had been not too long ago, his tongue hot against your skin as he pushes you down the hall. 

Your fingers reach for Oberyn instinctively, a silent breath leaving you when they intertwine with his. Feeling Dave on you is so new, so different, leaving you dizzy with excitement. He’s intense already, his touch demanding and firm, hands digging into your flesh as he steers you towards his bedroom. The anticipation makes you nervous, makes you long for the familiar touch of the other man to ground you. 

It’s a tangle of limbs, two pairs of hands on you as you stumble into Dave’s bedroom. The interior is minimalistic, functional, no personal items that you can make out in the dark. No photos, not even a dried up plant on the windowsill. You briefly wonder what kind of person he is, outside of this. If he has friends, hobbies, what he does when he’s not working. 

The train of thought dissolves when Oberyn’s mouth finds yours, his nose bumping into your cheek and his beard scratching against your chin. So similar to Dave’s kisses, and at the same time, not similar at all. One hand cups the back of your head, pushes you into the kiss, its touch vaguely unfamiliar. 

Your eyelids blink open, catching Dave’s, whose gaze is dancing between the both of you, watching, raw hunger behind his dark irises. You flick your tongue against Oberyn’s, relishing in his responding groan, and in the way Dave’s eyes darken further, trained on your boyfriend now. 

Oberyn pulls away, linking his hand with Dave’s that’s still resting at the back of your head. You’re hypnotized by the sight of both of them touching, even if just for a brief moment, before Oberyn places Dave’s hand on your shoulder, hooking the other man’s fingers under the thin strap of your dress. 

Winking at the both of you, he saunters over to the bed, spreading out on top of the covers, an expectant glint in his eyes. He looks so good like this, so easily commanding every setting he finds himself in, the confidence surrounding him at all times. Your attention wavers when Dave tugs at the straps, goosebumps forming on your skin where his fingers skim over you. 

He raises his eyebrows in question, toying with the fabric, waiting for your confirmation.

“Go ahead,” you breathe, excitement weighing out the flicker of nerves. 

He nods, determination painting his features, the kind of calm assuredness that has you pressing your thighs together when he slides the straps off your shoulders. 

The flowy dress lands in a heap at your feet, leaving you in just your panties, your breasts braless and already bare for him. 

Dave’s eyes widen, a mumbled Fuck tumbling from his lips. A proud smirk passes over Oberyn’s features. 

“She is just a dream, is she not?” 

“She is,” Dave growls, his broad hands roaming over your skin, pulling you closer. 

“Touch her,” Oberyn’s voice sounds from the bed. “She likes being played with.” The casual authority oozing from his tone, paired with being talked about as if you’re not there, is almost enough to get the heat blazing through you to boil over. 

“Does she now?” Dave murmurs, cocking his head and dragging his gaze down your body, purposefully slow. You start squirming when his fingers glide over your nipples, playfully tugging at the hardened buds. You whine in reaction, a needy sound that has both men chuckling. “Yeah, you do,” he coos, nipping at your throat. Your responding whine to the sharp pinpricks of his teeth is even louder this time.

His touch travels lower, skims over your stomach, stopping just short of your panties, beneath which you’re already dripping for him. 

“May I?” It’s low, almost reverential. His gaze burns into yours, glinting darkly when you nod, a please, Dave falling from your lips. 

He finds you wet with slick, the fabric covering you completely soaked through, a moan breathy and high in your throat when he rubs at you through the fabric. 

“Please, more,” you whimper, all dignity lost to the hope of what it might feel like to have his thick fingers inside of you soon. His lips chase your mouth as he pulls your panties to the side, swirls a finger through your wetness and up to your clit. Your moan comes out muffled, licked out of your mouth by his tongue. 

You grab at his t-shirt, eagerly pulling at the hem, desperate to see all of him, to feel all of him. He helps you pull it over his head, exposing his upper body, all wide shoulders and massive chest, to your hungry eyes. You’re overcome with the need to touch him, the fire burning inside of you fueled by how strong he feels, how his muscles are flexing under your exploring fingers. 

In the lack of light, it takes a second until it catches up to you that his torso is littered with scars, white lines that shine dimly, skin that’s uneven under your touch. There’s a particularly large cut near his left collarbone, one that you mindlessly trace with a finger, until his hand closes around your wrist in a harsh grip. He pulls it away abruptly, the look on his face bordering on dangerous. 

Your whispered sorry isn’t met with an acknowledgement. His eyes close and open with a deep exhale before he meets your gaze again, pointing a curt nod towards the bed. 

“Hands and knees. Now.” 

You’re quick to obey, even more eager to please now, the harsher demeanor only driving your arousal to new heights. Dave’s hands span over your ass as you lock eyes with Oberyn. Your boyfriend has already rid himself of his clothes, languidly stroking his cock and regarding you with a teasing smile. 

The sight has you clenching with need, knowing how much he loves seeing you like this, knowing how much his pleasure grows from seeing yours, from being able to give you this. 

Behind you, Dave pulls your panties down your legs, leaving you naked and on full display for him. A deep moan escapes him at the sight, spurring you on to arch your back a bit more as you turn your head to look back towards him. He’s staring, the weight of it heavy on your bare skin.

“Such a pretty pussy, sweetheart,” he rasps, before he kneels down behind you and licks a broad stripe through your folds. His groan at the taste reverberates through you, your slick flooding his tongue, your whole body pulsing with need, each lick sending a new wave through you. 

When his tongue lets up on its ministrations and he sinks two fingers into you instead, thumbing at your clit, you cry out in pleasure at the sudden sensation. Your eyes find Oberyn again, touching himself more urgently now, keeping eye contact with you. He’s still smiling.

It’s impossible to take anymore, impossible to bear not feeling full for another moment, the stretch of Dave’s fingers not nearly enough. “Please,” you whine, turning towards him again, “I need you to fuck me. Please.” 

Dave chuckles darkly. 

“Need it, huh?” 

You don’t mind the condescending tone, don’t mind how desperate it makes you look, you just nod, silently pleading with him to have mercy on you. He indulges you, lets you watch eagerly as he takes off his pants and his cock springs free, thick and heavy and everything you need right now. 

A moan leaves you at the sight, earning you a smug grin from him, before he steps closer. You feel him nudge at your soaked entrance, one hand resting on your hip while he’s taking his time to tease you. Helplessly, you grind against him, wanting to feel him, needing to feel him. 

“Give it to her hard,” Oberyn purrs, leaning forward to cup your face. “I want to hear her scream.”

You’re still shuddering from his words when Dave finally sinks inside you with one sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. He gives you no time to adjust, immediately sets a punishing rhythm. It jostles your whole body, would push you up the mattress if he didn’t pull you back onto him by your hips. 

It hits just as deep, stretches you just as wide as you wished for, screams and sobs of his name falling from your mouth as raw pleasure is spreading through you like wildfire.

Oberyn’s mouth is on your lips, on your whole face, drinking your pleasure straight from the source. 

“Is he as good as you imagined, princess?”

You can only whine and nod, incoherent babbles of yes, fuck yes the best that you’re able to manage. 

“Do you hear that?” he purrs, flashing a feral grin towards the other man. “She is feeling so good, so drunk on your cock that she can barely talk.”

He moves away from you, gets up from the bed and steps behind Dave instead, his hands gliding over the man’s shoulders, his eyes glued to where Dave keeps thrusting into you harshly. You can only imagine the obscenity of the sight based on the wet sounds that ring through the bedroom. With a quiet laugh and a pat on your ass, Oberyn shifts again. “I want a closer look.”

Rustling hits your ears, but when you crane your head to try and see what’s going on, Dave’s fingers tangle in your hair, forming a fist and pulling. It’s forcing your back into an almost painful arch and your head to point forward again. He leans over you, bringing one foot up on the mattress, growling into your ear while his cock somehow reaches new depths with the change of position. 

“You focus right here. You wanted me so bad, huh? Pay attention to me, then.” 

He plunges into you even harder, the sensations right on the pleasurable side of overwhelming. You twitch violently in his grasp when another touch reaches you, the familiar feeling of Oberyn’s tongue teasing at your clit all of a sudden, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching against the sensitive flesh. His chuckle at your reaction vibrates against your pussy, causing you to writhe between them, pushing back against Dave’s thrusts while trying to chase Oberyn’s mouth at the same time. 

Dave groans at the way you’re tightening and twitching around him, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, holding you in place. Oberyn licks and sucks at you, knowing your body better than you know it yourself, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy almost instantly. 

“Getting so— fucking tight,” Dave grits out from behind you, landing a slap on your ass that has you squealing. The sharp bite of pain sends you tumbling over the edge, pulsing around his cock, still sheathed deep inside you. Your hands uselessly grab at the sheets, skin stretching over knuckles, anything to keep you grounded as pleasure burns its way through you. 

Oberyn never lets up on his attention on your clit, soft licks and kisses that prolong the aftershocks of your orgasm until you’re trembling, your head falling forward, sweaty forehead connecting with the soft blanket on Dave’s bed. 

“Good girl,” Dave coos from behind you, one large hand gently rubbing over your back. “You’re doing so good.” He gives a tentative thrust, picking up his movements again when no protest of overstimulation comes from you. “You can give us more, can’t you?” 

You manage a nod and a soft yes, your mind still too lost in the lingering haze of your climax, but your body is already responding to the sensations of his cock dragging through your tight walls again. He stretches you just right, reaches so deep inside of you. 

“You are so wet, princess,” Oberyn’s voice sounds in your ears, his breath hot against your folds. “Tastes so sweet.”

His tongue moves away from your clit, licking through you, until Dave’s sharp intake of breath makes it clear that Oberyn has moved on from teasing just you.

“Is this okay?” 

You know that your boyfriend’s question isn’t aimed at you, that he’s well aware how okay with this you are, but the husky drag of his voice has you clenching around the other man anyway. 

“Fuck,” Dave groans, his thrusts slowing, chasing more than just your tight heat now. “I’ve never— yes. Yes, it’s okay.” Another breath. “Please.”

There’s more rustling, more movement between your legs, until Dave’s cock slides out of you, leaving you empty and wanting. You open your eyes, peering down at where Oberyn’s head rests on the mattress underneath you. His hand is wrapped around Dave’s cock, moving slowly, letting the other man adjust to the new experience. 

You slide your own fingers down, tangling in his hair, chasing the connection between all three of you. Your eyes meet for a moment, burning hunger passing between you. Then Oberyn pulls on Dave’s hips and closes his lips around the head of his cock, shiny with precum and your arousal. 

Both men’s voices float around you; throaty, needy sounds. Oberyn sucks Dave deeper into his mouth, and the grip on your waist tightens once more. You loosen your hold on Oberyn and prop yourself up on shaky arms to turn around again, desperate to catch a glimpse at Dave’s face. 

He looks wrecked, teeth digging into his bottom lip, eyes pinched closed, his breath coming in pants, his bare chest shining with sweat. You reach for him instead, intertwining your fingers with the ones that had been holding on to your waist. His eyes fly open, a grin spreading over his face when he catches you looking at him. A grin that you eagerly return. 

“We’re going to make you feel good, too,” you breathe. An emotion that you can’t place passes over his face, so quick that you almost think you imagined it. For just one second, he almost seemed vulnerable. 

Oberyn chooses this moment to position Dave’s cock back at your entrance, where you’re more than ready to take him again, your hips instinctively pushing back against him, your walls engulfing him once more. 

“Yeah, you are,” he growls, plunging into you again, the sudden return of the stretch forcing another moan and a fresh wave of slick out of you. He’s still holding your hand, pinning it against your lower back, jostling your body with every snap of his hips as if you were a doll. The deep thrusts hit your g-spot again and again, reducing you back to a babbling mess within minutes. The only words on your tongue are their names, mixed together by a string of pleads. 

You miss the fullness, the drag of his cock each time he pulls out of you, but knowing that when he’s not filling your pussy, he’s in Oberyn’s mouth, is enough to keep your arousal burning until he sinks back into you. 

A second orgasm catches up to you almost embarrassingly fast, pulsing around him and screaming your pleasure into the sheets. Dave fucks you through it slowly, keeps the high coursing through your body, until you’re nothing but quiet whines, your thighs shaking with the effort of holding you up. 

“Shhh, princess,” Oberyn’s voice floats to you, his familiar touch grazing your legs. You watch hazily as he retreats from beneath you, directing your body until you’re lying on the bed, everything around you soft and warm like a cloud. 

“Take a little break, yeah?” he whispers, leaning down to capture your lips. “I’ll finish what you started.” 

You watch in awe as his fingers trails over Dave’s chest, mesmerized as a shudder ripples through the other man, how he hesitantly but determined reaches out to Oberyn to return the touch. They’re a sight together, and you still want them both, still don’t feel sated.

With your eyes widening, you witness Oberyn slowly sinking to his knees in front of Dave. Seeing him in an act of such obvious submission is rare, the way he takes Dave deep into his throat, swallows him down. 

His hands are on Dave’s thighs, where the muscles are flexing under his fingers, his fingers that are wandering up further, sliding over Dave’s ass, out of your line of sight. What you can see is how Oberyn’s eyes are trained on Dave’s face, gauging his reaction to the touches. You can see the pure ecstasy written over Dave’s features as he comes with a loud groan, the shuddering pull of his abs as he’s spilling his release into Oberyn’s eager mouth, the fingers tangled in his hair and holding him in place.

Oberyn lets out a satisfied rumble at the taste, a sound that adds to the insistent burning between your thighs. You reach out for your boyfriend, tugging at his shoulder. 

“I want a taste,” you demand in a breathless voice.

Dave makes a sound like all air has been punched from his lungs, watching as if hypnotized while Oberyn leans towards you, cupping your jaw before he kisses you deeply. He’s licking into your mouth, sharing Dave’s taste with you, a taste that you can’t get enough of, your tongue tangled with his until he gently pulls away, calls you an insatiable little thing. 

A laugh escapes Dave at that, sinking onto the mattress and pulling you into him. You melt into his touch, let him maneuver you until he’s leaning against the headboard with your back resting against his chest. He’s lazily toying with you, mouthing at your neck and gently circling your nipples, giving you the occasional tug to force small, high sounds from your throat. 

You’re writhing against him, but your eyes are trained on Oberyn, who’s slowly advancing towards you. “Do you still want more, princess?” he coos, swirling a single digit through the slick between your legs, still overflowing with need. 

“Please,” you sigh, parting your legs further, making room for him. He sinks into you easily, filling you perfectly, both your lips parted in pleasure. He rocks into you, pressing your body against Dave who’s holding you tight, still playing with your breasts and whispering into your ear.

“Dirty girl… You gonna give us one more?”

You’re overwhelmed by their touches, feeling so close to another high, their scent engulfing you, huge hands all over your body, a heat that’s about to scorch you. You think that you’re pleading with them, but you can’t be sure, can’t focus on anything but how good it all feels. 

Oberyn leans forward, sinking even deeper into you, pressing your legs into your chest. “Taste yourself,” he husks, connecting his lips with Dave’s. The sight of both men’s tongues intertwined, paired with the sensation of Oberyn’s cock nestled impossibly deep inside of you, is enough to tip you over the edge one more time. 

Blackness is tugging at the edges of your vision, but fire is burning in your veins, coursing through you until your whole body is left a trembling mess. When you come back to yourself, both men are holding you close, shushing you and peppering every inch of your skin that they can reach with kisses. It’s soft, it’s warm, it’s safe. It’s heaven. 

The three of you end up in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets, intertwined with one another as closely as possible. You wrap your arms around Dave, whose eyes are already closed, but he leans into the touch instantly. 

“Thank you. You were fun,” you tell him with a giggle, your heart pulsing at the sight of an earnest smile on his face, possibly the first one that you’ve seen. Oberyn’s fingers are linked with yours, wordlessly sharing the deep joy that you both feel. You fall asleep like this, in a bubble so dreamy that you wish you could stay like this forever. 

When you wake up to the sounds of birds and waves in the distance coming through the open windows in the morning, your head resting on Oberyn’s chest as sunlight is filtering into the room, the other side of the bed is empty.

Dave is gone, leaving the both of you in an apartment that looks even less personal in the daylight, with no signs of the man who you spent the night with.

thank you for reading <3 comments, reblog & asks are greatly appreciated!

[the-djarin-clan]

📸| Photoshoot for Esquire magazine - Norman Jean Roy

I wasn't ready for this….