#oberyn martell x y/n

[sanarsi]

Goddess

husband!Oberyn Martell x f!Reader

Summary: Just you and your husband who love each other very much. Warnings: +18, MDNI, soft!dom!Oberyn, unprotected PIV, literally it’s just smut with lots of love (he’s simp) Wordcount: 1,6k An: I don't know, Oberyn is like a ray of sunshine to me. It's a very sweet smut. Lots of his love exactly how I imagine him. Music I worked with: Señorita - Shawn Mendes, Camila Cabello

Masterlist

Since you became Mrs. Martell, life had been nothing but kind to you.

Every day was better than the last.

Every day was perfect.

Your husband made sure of that.

Your every wish was fulfilled faster than you could have hoped. Any whim of yours? You didn't have to tell twice. He had already thought about it the previous day. Sometimes you had the feeling that he wasn't real. That in reality you'd wake up in the morning feeling an emptiness in your heart, that it was all a dream.

Yet it was his lips that woke you up every morning.

It was his hands that caressed your skin.

It was his voice that you heard as you began each day.

It was always him.

Oberyn surrounded you with the love he promised you when he put the ring on your finger. He took care of you as he promised when he made his vows. He was faithful to you because he didn't see the world beyond you.

For him, only you existed. Your smile. Your voice. Your laugh.

He believed that you were sent to him by the gods themselves.

That's why you were woken up every day by his whisper.

"Good morning, my queen."

"You glow more than I remember."

“Your skin is softer than yesterday.”

"Your eyes sparkle at the sight of me. Perhaps my queen loves me more than yesterday, hm?"

It was his love that made you the best version of yourself. Smile never left your face for even a second. Happiness filled your body with every little action you made. Every morning he brought you fresh oranges from the garden. Every evening he held you in his arms as you watched the sunset.

Today was no exception. You were pouring two cups of herbs when strong arms wrapped around your waist. You smiled tenderly as his body pressed against yours. Warm lips began to place wet kisses on your shoulder. You sighed in contentment, tilting your head back. His nose ran down your neck, inhaling your scent until he moaned softly against your ear.

"You smell like a flower that only blooms in my garden," he murmured into your ear and placed a gentle kiss on it. He fixed his gaze on your delicate facial features and couldn't resist pulling you in by your chin. Your lips collided in a gentle kiss. His every movement was filled with love. Adoration. True worship.

He gently forced you to turn to face him and his arms immediately pulled you closer. Your hands on his cheeks elicited a groan of pleasure from him. Your lips were soft and sweet like the peaches you ate every day. He loved kissing your lips. He loved feeling your tongue respond shyly to his.

Only with you was he like this. Only you saw his tender and caring side. He was only yours. That's why he tried to be perfect for you.

Just the way you wanted and needed him.

His hands gripped your skin tighter as he held your hips tightly against his. You gasped into his mouth as he worshipped your body with his hands.

Oh he loved touching you.

Every inch of you was perfect to him. Every little imperfection you saw in yourself only made him love you more. Because in his eyes you were flawless.

"I need you closer" he whispered against your lips, tightening his fingers on the material of your dress. "Give yourself to me."

You moaned in response, feeling his hands on your thighs. In one movement, he pulled you up, encircling your hips in a tight embrace. You hugged him tightly, pressing your lips harder against his. The quiet chirping of birds faded into the background as Oberyn slowly made his way to the bedroom.

You gasped as he gently laid you down on the soft sheets. His lips trailed down to your neck, caressing every spot that made your knees go weak. He knew your body by heart. With his eyes closed, he could find every scar, every mole.

His hands slowly began to slide down your body. Oh how he loved the dresses you wore. Only you could look like a queen in rags that barely covered anything. The flowing petticoats hugged every curve of your figure perfectly. And they were even easier to take off. His hands crept under the material to squeeze your tits. Perfect for his hands. You sighed, throwing your head back, giving in to his caresses.

"The gods are crying because they gave you to me," he gasped in your ear, throwing off his shirt. Your hands were immediately on his chest, running over his heated skin. He moaned at your greedy touch. He loved feeling that you desired him.

He couldn't feel more proud than that his wife wanted him.

He bit your neck gently as you unbuttoned his pants. His hands slowly slid down your thighs, revealing more and more. Your dress slid down your hips, revealing your pussy. His fingers dug into your skin right at the junction of your thighs. You moaned and he immediately pressed his lips to yours. He began to drink in your moans as his fingers ran over your wet slit.

"She's waiting for me," he whispered into your mouth, looking with adoration at the pleasure written on your face. He loved watching you when he was giving you pleasure.

He loved watching you when you were giving yourself pleasure.

He generally loved watching you.

"Baby..." you gasped hungrily as his fingers slowly spread the moisture all over your slit. His attention focused on your clit longer each time. He slowly circled it a few times before sliding down to sink his fingers into you. And so on and so forth. Until you cried out in the way he loved. Out of need for him to enter you. A satisfied smirk appeared on his face at the desire in your eyes.

“My beautiful wife… So needy for my cock,” he purred tenderly and pressed a few kisses to your face.

“Oberyn, please…” you whispered, running your hands over his neck and shoulders. You were hungry and he fucking loved it.

He guided his cock to your entrance and ran the tip along the length of your slit a few times. You moaned, digging your fingers into the back of his neck. He watched you as he slowly pushed his cock into you. He gasped as he pushed all the way in.

He loved the way you took him in. You always squeezed against him in greeting. Always polite and gentle. And his cock always responded to her greeting.

Even they loved each other the same as you two.

His hips started working immediately. At the perfect pace. So that you wouldn't stop feeling him for even a moment. And it couldn't be any other way. Because you only felt him. Everywhere. His cock teased your sweet spot, his fingers tightened on your thigh and his mouth attacked yours again. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, but even that wasn't enough. Not just for you.

Oberyn owned you in every way known to man.

You had his last name, you woke up in his arms every day, he made love to you every day.

You were his.

All of you.

But it just wasn't enough.

He wanted to own you in a way known only to the gods. He wanted to possess you. He wanted to have your soul. He was crazy about you. As crazy as you were about him.

His body pressed against yours, leaving no space between you. You panted heavily between each kiss as his hips made perfect movements. The kind that drove you crazy. His fingers tangled in your hair, holding you rigidly to his mouth. He crushed you with his love. You couldn't and wouldn't break free.

"Nothing will take you away from me" he panted feeling his cock hit the very end of your wonderful pussy. “I will burn the whole world if anyone tries.”

You moaned louder, arching under him. You tightened your fingers in his hair, starting to move your hips with him. Closer. Deeper.

“Oberyn…” you moaned through bliss.

“Yes my goddess, worship my name” he growled, speeding up the movements of his hips. His thrusts were always precise. His every move was never accidental. That’s why his cock brushed against your sweet spot every time, forcing a cry from your chest. You locked eyes, panting heavily.

"Will you come for me, my dear?" he murmured, rubbing his nose against yours. You immediately nodded.

"Yes," you almost squealed. He smiled, connecting your lips again. His tongue found yours, and his quiet moans sent shivers down your spine. You pulled him closer by the neck, moaning louder and louder into his mouth until you could no longer return his kisses. He rested his forehead against yours, entering you without a moment's respite.

And your orgasm attacked you with an intensity that only existed because of him.

You gasped for air as you experienced each wave of fulfillment that coursed through your body. And Oberyn reveled in how wonderful you felt on his cock. He groaned at the intensity of your coming, and only a few strokes passed before he came deep inside you. He growled thrusting into you a few more times before he froze panting from exhaustion.

Your hands gently stroked his hair and neck making him purr. He looked at you and immediately stole a kiss from your sweet lips that smiled at him blissfully.

[bits-and-babs]

𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 — 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

summary: With the Great Hall empty, you take an opportunity to gaze upon the Iron Throne without its ruler. You can't help but wonder what kind of monarch Oberyn would make. The King is dead, long live The King.

pairing: Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: 3k

content: 18+ MDNI. SPOILERS FOR GOT, (In order) Reference to death and vague mentions of gore, celebration of said death (Nasty character go bye bye), fingering, PIV sex. This is a @beskarbabs remaster — original post date 2021.

➛ oberyn masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

Summer sunshine bathes the throne room in a golden glow yet does nothing to dispel the cold, unnerving energy that reverberates inside the stone walls. Red refractions from the stained glass sun at the window at the head of the room leak across the floor. You can’t help but consider the stone flags are often streaked with that colour. That those who have paced the stone flags, their footsteps ringing out in the Great Hall, have given the order to paint the Seven Kingdoms that same crimson shade. 

Standing before the steps, you consider the Iron Throne seated upon them, its bleak colours contrasting the warm hues in which the sunlight drowns the room. The Throne surprisingly does not live up to your expectations. You had heard so many stories, forged of a thousand surrendered swords at the conquest of Aegon The Conqueror. Now it stands before you; you can hazard a guess that there are less than two hundred. 

Its symbolism is not lost on you. It had seated some of the evilest men, who had brought terror and despair across the Seven Kingdoms and its people. When you had arrived at King’s Landing and entered the Red Keep before the wedding, you had expected to see arguably the worst of them all, King Joffrey, stare back at you.

Now it was empty.

The crimson that daubs the floor in splotches reminds you of the events just hours before. Reminds you of the lifeblood that leaked from the young king’s nose and slipped down his pale, blotched cheeks, dripping into the golden collar of his robes at his neck. Reminds you of the bloodshot colour of the whites of his blue eyes and the way they seemed to almost threaten to bulge out of his sockets. A gruesome death for a gruesome king. 

You hoped that his mother’s screams, ex-queen regent Cercei Lannister, mirrored those of the countless he had killed in these halls so brutally. Hoped it would bring those dead some peace. That it please the Old Gods and the New so that the kingdom could find peace and crown a more considerate, less destructive sovereign. 

The Great Hall was quiet. With no king to keep the Iron Throne warm, there was no requirement for anyone to be here. With this knowledge, you slowly make your way up the steps, the sound of your soles scuffing the stone floor ringing out in the vacant room. This close, you could regard the details. The ridges of the sword handles catch your eye, and the hilts of the weapons all ensigned with symbols that represented their owners long gone. While it didn’t meet your expectations, it was undoubtedly a throne for a king. 

You cast your eyes over the armrests, reaching out to touch them. They seemed so uncomforta-

“It’s underwhelming, is it not?” 

You snatch your hand back from the Throne with a gasp, like it had scalded you, eyes wide as your head whips around to look at the source of the sound. 

Oberyn smirks, standing in the centre of the large floor before you. His warm energy radiates despite the distance between you, and the golden robes he wears provide some much-needed colour to your bleak, almost desolate surroundings. You had asked him to wear those patterns for the ceremony, confessing they reminded you of the sun-kissed beaches of home. Oberyn agreed, delighted to represent Dorne this way. 

“You startled me, my prince!” You exclaim, pressing your palm to your chest in an effort to steady yourself. Your Viper had always been stealthy. 

“Apologies, My Sun, but you were so lost in thought that I fear I would have startled you regardless,” he muses, slowly crossing the floor. He looks so at ease in these four walls, sauntering as though he owns them. In honesty, this is how Oberyn always acts, but he is expected to uphold respect in the Red Keep and appear humble. He certainly didn’t seem to care much for that expectation now. 

Despite this, he regards you with a whisper of concern. 

“Are you well? What you saw back there… It wasn’t pleasant,” he treads carefully, uncertain how you had handled the events of the wedding, given he had sent you away from the gruesome scene. But, much to your surprise, the only thing that you happened to find grim were Cercei’s pitiful cries of “take him!” You swore they still rang in your ears like the screams of squealing pigs. 

“Just fine, my prince,” you promise him, dropping your hand to your side. You were fine, honestly. While you weren’t often exposed to atrocities in Dorne, you had certainly seen your fair share of them. Choking to death paled in comparison. 

Finally, he steps upwards, making his way slowly up the levels to stand before you. You’re taller than him on the top step, so he cranes his neck to look into your eyes. There is a glimmer in the blackness of his pupils - vindication. 

“And so the boy dies,” he says, voice quiet as he reaches for your waist. He slowly brushes his palm up the curve of your waist. 

“He was a Baratheon, Oberyn,” you remind him, watching how his eyes trace the neckline of your dress. A knowing smirk flickers across Oberyn’s usually measured expression. He knows something you don’t. 

“So they say,” he appears to pick his words carefully, despite your isolation. The walls of the Red Keep have ears, and unsavoury words often come back to haunt the utterer. “I fear his pedigree has come into question.”

A frown pulls at your eyebrows, searching Oberyn’s guileful countenance for an answer to your unspoken query of ‘why?’

“You saw how that wretched boy acted. Are you to tell me he isn’t a Lannister?” He questions you, holding your gaze. His usually warm brown eyes have that very same intense look he aimed at Cercei and Tywin at the dinner. Abhorrence. How were you to deny what he saw, what you saw? Joffrey was a monster, the kind of cruelty he dealt only shared with one family- lion’s jaws would easily maul a stag. Regardless of whose blood had pumped his heart, he deserved every moment he suffered. 

“Well,” you sigh softly, agreeing with your lover, “I suppose if the shoe were to fit….” 

“It does,” he speaks, dismissing any question of the legitimacy of his opinion, “This is a triumph.” You nod firmly, the two of you acquiescing unanimously to this fact. It was of no consequence who Joffrey truly was. The most imperative truth was that his death had devastated the Lannister family, precisely what Oberyn had set out to do. While he couldn’t claim responsibility, it certainly didn’t diminish his appreciation in seeing the panic amongst the blonde-headed savages - the infighting. 

Oberyn’s hand creeps from your waist and down the small of your back, taking hold of your ass and gently squeezing it. His eyes are hooded as you look down at him, iris’ hidden as he gazes down the neckline of your dress. 

“This could be your chance to become king,” you muse, smiling playfully as his eyes snap up to your face, disgust evident if only briefly. 

“Live here in King’s Landing? As sovereign? I would rather be abstinent,” he muses with his own knowing smirk, “not even your bewitching looks could implore me to rule the Seven Kingdoms.” 

You huff, acting disappointed as you cross your arms across your chest in apparent dismay. Oberyn simply arches an eyebrow, the edges of his lips lifting up in intrigue at your little display of audaciousness.

“What is it, My Sun?” He asks you, clearly amused. You purse your lips slightly, playing coy as you reach for the collar of his golden robes and brush your fingertips over the silk, moving them down slowly until you hook them into the leather belt that sits loosely on his waist. You tug harshly, catching him off-guard and forcing him to move up onto the top step beside you. 

“Oberyn, play the game with me. We’re celebrating, remember?” You whisper, looking deep into his eyes. They always reminded you of the bark of the blood orange trees that grew in the orchards in Dorne, the wood a deep brown colour that lightened with flecks of gold in the light. His tan reminds you of the sunshine, his sigil, the very name he affectionately calls you. Everything about him reminds you of home. 

He regards you for a moment, knowing exactly what you want. You want him to imagine what it would be like if he was king- just for a moment. 

“Anything for you,” he murmurs, allowing you this happiness. You grin, launching into questions as you smooth your hands down his chest again, ignoring how his voice dips an octave.  

“What would you wear, My King?” You ask, smiling wide as he places his large hands on your hips. His palms practically eclipse you, which always makes you feel safe, even in King’s Landing. 

“I would wear golden silk,” he muses, turning you ever so slowly until he stands between you and the Iron Throne, his back to it. You watch him for a moment, the deviant look in his eyes, “I would wear velvet, and I would ensure you were to dress just as remarkably.” 

You allow yourself to imagine that for the two of you, always matching to ensure everyone knew you both belonged to each other. 

“And what would you eat?” You ask him, finding yourself lost for words just seconds later when Oberyn takes the initiative to sit himself upon the Iron Throne. He sits back, legs spread wide, looking up at you. Your blood runs cold, and you glance around quickly for a King’s Guard. There’s still no one around. 

“What would I eat?” He repeats your question, smirking as he retakes hold of your hips, “I would order that all the best foods of Dorne be delivered periodically, blood orange, pomegranates.” His palms work their way behind you as he talks, resting on your ass and pulling you forward. 

“Oberyn-” 

“We’d gorge upon the finest venison, the boar from the woods and wash it down with our wine,” he continues, pulling you forward until you were forced to straddle his lap, bracing yourself with your hand against the ‘head’ of the Throne, “We would want for nothing, the finest food always available to me upon my request….” 

Oberyn’s hands pull your hips down gently, rolling your hips against his. He’s stiff in his tight brown pants, his body disclosing his need for you. 

“And I would eat you,” he ponders cheekily, a smirk crossing his lips as he sees your surprise at his readiness to take you here, in the Grand Hall, upon the Iron Throne. You have barely a moment to snap out of your shocked stupor before he’s working at shucking your skirts upwards, fingertips grazing the inside of your thighs. 

Heat sparks up your spine at the realisation- he actually wants to do this. He wants to fuck you now, here. You spring into action almost immediately, working hastily on the belt that encompasses his waist. 

“As for activities, we would have magnificent feasts, drinking the night away. We’d fuck-” he punctuates with a spank to the bare skin of your inner thigh, causing you to gasp, “into the early mornings, with as many whores as you desire….” He trails off with a smirk as you slip the belt open and pull open his eggshell-coloured long coat, adorned with golden patterning to expose his bare chest under his low-cut tunic. 

As you work on the ties of his pants, fingers trembling with anticipation, he slips a finger into your exposed core, causing your back to arch into his touch. Your jaw slackens, the sensation electrified when accompanied by the possibility that anyone could just walk in. The two of you could be put to death for this, as it certainly constituted a charge of treason. 

“So wet for me, My Sun. Does the prospect of fucking me here excite you?” He teases unrelentingly, gazing at the needy expression on your face. You can feel him search for that spot inside you, the one he knows will have you positively dripping with anticipation. 

“I-I’m the one asking questions,” you say, wanting to sound assured and confident, but you find yourself rushing the words so as to not get cut off by a moan. It made you sound ingenuine. Your lover just smirks knowingly, slowly working in a second finger. You’re already so aroused that it doesn’t take much effort. 

“You are?” He murmurs, watching the way you keen for his touch, feeling your hips rock forward in search of contact with that sweet spot inside of you. If Oberyn put his mind to it, he could make you cum in seconds, but he liked to draw it out. Wants to torture you with pleasure. “Ask away.”

You let out a soft moan as his knuckle brushed your clit, fingers buried deep inside your cunt. Drunk on the building pleasure between your thighs, you allow yourself to consider for a moment what kind of king Oberyn would be. With a broken train of thought, as he focused on building your arousal, you find a half-answer of ‘compassionate and just’. 

“How would you wish for your crown to look?” You finally find the strength to ask of him. You work him out of his pants slowly, easing his cock out and brushing the swollen head with your thumb. Even through your lustful haze, you could imagine all kinds of styles he would wear, but always gold. 

Oberyn, though still moving his fingers, seemed to pause to contemplate this. His eyes searched your face, almost as though looking for inspiration. The silence of the Great Hall is cut only by your laboured breathing, the soft sounds of the fabric of your clothes rustling, and the wet sound of Oberyn pleasuring you.

The quiet is almost too much, and you find yourself growing anxious. Only as you turn your head over your shoulder to check for people does the Prince of Dorne take your chin in his free hand, forcing you to look back at him. He always did ask for your undivided attention.

“I ask they do not place a crown on my head,” he finally drawls in that pretty accent you had come to adore, removing his fingers from you and taking hold of the curve of your ass to lift your hips upwards and align you with him, “Just you on my cock.”

Before the words can settle into your bones, he’s sinking himself into you, using his hold on you to bring you down slowly. You both exhale shakily, the sound teetering on a moan and a whine as he stretches you out around him. He grits his teeth together, the muscles holding his jaw pulled tight as your warmth and tightness overwhelm him. 

You begin to circle your hips, grinding them against him as he leans back into the Throne, gliding his hands from your knees and up your thighs, smirking at the obscenely wet sounds that come from where he fills you. 

“Lift your skirts,” he murmurs, gazing up at you with hooded eyes. They are practically black, the pupils having swallowed the brown of his iris’ with need, “I want to watch myself fuck you, My Sun.” You whine softly, not in complaint but in contentment, as you bunch your skirts around your waist higher, exposing the sight to your lover. 

Oberyn doesn’t allow you to put in all the work, grinding his hips upwards to meet yours each time you sink onto his cock. Your head lolls back, enjoying the trail of tingling skin he leaves as his hands brush over the skin of your waist under your dress. You always claimed that Oberyn had sunshine in his fingertips, his touch leaving a trail of warmth as it brushed your skin. You can feel it now, the gentle heat that swirls under your skin as he drags his hand over your abdomen. 

And Oberyn just gazes up at you, dragging his eyes over every inch of you. He loves how your eyes roll back into your skull as he rolls his hips and hits something deep inside you that makes your toes curl. He feels the way the muscles in your thighs twitch at the sensation, and that’s how he knows he’s found it. 

“Right there?” He murmurs, voice so low and smoky that it creeps down your spine and settles deep inside your cunt. You can’t manage words, your voice stolen by the throbbing in your clit, so you just nod in agreement. 

Typically, he would begin to thrust harder, chase his high. But half of the reason this feels so good is the anticipation of being caught. He wants to drag it out as long as possible, so he uses the grip on your hips to slowly rock them back and forth on his cock, ensuring that each time he pushes into that spot inside you. 

You’re clamping down on him, wailing quietly as he teases you. Oberyn was brutal, never settling for anything other than blinding pleasure. But this is almost acute, so strong that you could cry- you do, tears welling in your eyes as he circles your hips slowly, his tongue brushing his lower lip as he watches his dick slide in and out of you. 

The sopping sounds of Oberyn’s cock continually slipping in and out of you ricochets off the ancient stone walls of the Red Keep. Your whines of bliss appear to spur him on, lighting something ablaze in him that had sparked with King Joffrey’s last breath. He’s almost delirious when he speaks but utterly sincere.

“I want you to conceive a child - here on the Iron Throne. I want you full of my seed, knowing he was born for the Throne itself.”

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[moonlight-prose]

BREATH OF LIFE

a/n: day two of haunted hoedown!! so i had this idea for a long time and bombarded @themarcusmoreno (who is also the lovely beta reader of this fic. thank you babes) on discord about it, but it wasn't something i'd ever see myself writing. i don't really like how it turned out, but that's due to working on it so long. i've only ever written one oberyn fic for kinktober two years ago. this event gave me the perfect time to actually write it. so i give you my take on the mythological story of apollo and daphne.

summary: punctured by the arrow of cupid, oberyn is suddenly infatuated with you. you...the very breath in his lungs, the clouds in his sky, the reason the sun shone down on his home. he was in love and yet you couldn't have felt more different.

word count: 3k+

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers, possessiveness, p in v sex, obsessiveness, mythological au, oberyn is possibly ooc.

He could smell the sweetness of flowers on your skin as you traipsed through the forest. As if you were gliding on thin air—the skirts of your nearly sheer dress flowing around your feet. Covering him from your sight. Sunlight filtered through the trees, illuminating the area in the afternoon glow, and for a moment he swore you began to glow. Your entire being attracted the light as you went.

Oberyn had never felt a love so pure. A love so strong he was willing to rip out his own heart if you asked him to. A love that felt…different.

He had been walking through the Dorne kingdom, celebrating his victory over the recent battle—enjoying the overflow of wine and debauchery that practically flooded the street. Until he felt it. The sharp pierce of something brutal, something painful. He’d collapsed to his knees in his bedchambers, grasping onto his heart—shouting loud enough for someone to hear. But what started out as agony quickly shifted, filling his body with a thrumming warmth—turning into need.

Stumbling out to the balcony that overlooked a dark garden, he sucked in the cold night air in the hopes of it appeasing the growing ache in his chest. The yearning for something unknown. He wanted to go back, to stop this from happening, but his mind had already latched onto something entirely different. Something that practically glowed in the light of the moon.

You walked the garden often at night for a chance to escape from the noise. A brief moment of silence that you could claim as your own. Yet tonight something was entirely different. Almost wrong in a way. You had felt a pain unlike anything you had known before—an anguish that seeped its way into your heart. Closing you off to something.

How ironic that at the same moment you were standing in the midst of the roses, your hand pressed to your chest, Prince Oberyn caught sight of you.

He gasped, eyes wide and body leaning over the edge to catch a better glimpse of you. And for a brief moment he felt like his heart had finally begun to beat. As if it was still until this moment—until he could finally find you in this dark world. You were light—a fixture of beauty he couldn’t tear his eyes away from—and he wanted you. Needed to call you his, to lay claim to your heart and soul.

You were the very breath in his lungs, the clouds in his sky, the reason the sun shone down on his home. Somehow as he watched you wander, your eyes turned up to the sky, he felt a warmth fill his heart—love consuming his being. He was infatuated with you, in love in a way he’d never experienced before. Yet you couldn’t have felt more different.

You were pierced with hatred, your heart filled with utter detestation at the thought of the Prince of Dorne loving you. He’d followed you into the forest that afternoon, following the path your footsteps made in the soft dirt below. Adamant on speaking to you—convincing you that he was the one your heart belonged to. And you allowed it to happen. You skirted along different paths, twisting through the deep thicket of trees, knowing all the while he was close by. Practically attached to your hip.

“I’d ask you to leave, but it seems you’re intent on staying,” you finally called out, stopping in a small clearing, the flowers you’d picked at random now overflowing in your hands.

He stiffened, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest as he had no choice but to step out from where he was hidden. The trees obscuring him from your sight. He felt like a child who got caught doing something he wasn’t meant to. Yet he was merely a man whose hope that you would reciprocate his love continued to grow day by day. Even as you fixed him with a withering stare, your hands clenched into fists and eyes narrowed.

“Forgive me,” he said softly, approaching you with caution. “I didn’t mean to follow—”

You interrupted him with a sigh. “Let’s not lie to one another, yes?”

If Oberyn wasn’t in love with you before, the way you challenged him would have certainly done it. “Okay. I was following you.”

“If you would be so kind as to give me a reason.” You shifted over to a nearby bush, plucking a flower from the green vine.

His mouth went dry, eyes tracing the curves of your body as the sunlight turned your dress sheer. He could see the path of your legs, the slope and curve of your breast, and he caught sight of your nipples pressing against the fabric. In any other moment he would have enjoyed the sight of your beauty—the way you looked like a goddess among normal men. But his cock stiffened so quickly he grew dizzy, his breath catching in his lungs as your eyes met his again.

“Well?” you demanded, keeping your distance.

The bitter flavor of disgust filled your mouth as he stood there, gawking at you like a man who’d never laid eyes on a woman before. He was handsome—you would admit that—but you found that the longer you remained in his presence, the more you hated him. He was like a thorn in your side. And you ached to pluck him out, keeping him as far away as humanly possible.

Yet you weren’t sure where this hatred stemmed from. Why—all of a sudden—did you loathe him? You and Oberyn had minimal contact within the palace. You were there to study, invited as a scholar, which left you no time to socialize among people. Him included. Oberyn was an unattainable man with a reputation that shaped who he was in your mind. Yet there he stood, staring at you as if you were precious gold he wished to shape into the finest jewelry.

“I don’t…” His tongue ran along his bottom lip, heart nearly leaping into his throat. “I don’t understand why this is happening.”

“What? My dislike?”

He winced, the hope in his chest dampening slightly. “Yes.”

You scoffed, turning away from him and wishing you were back in one of Dorne’s libraries. Anything would be better than standing here allowing the Prince to toy with your emotions. You knew he believed that one could love as many people as possible. That there were no limits to his passion. And perhaps he was right, but you would not be one of those people he fell for. You couldn’t.

“There is nothing to explain. I simply don’t like you,” you said, your words harsher than you intended.

It seemed to have the intended effect—just not how you expected. His eyes narrowed, body moving swiftly through the forest until he stood before you. He was taller than you anticipated, the yellow hue of his robes accentuating his broad form, his chest bare beneath. Though hatred ran deep through you—solidifying your opinion of him—you could feel the flicker of yearning begin to simmer in the far depths of your stomach.

Just because you hated the man did not necessarily mean you found him unattractive. You couldn’t tear yourself away from his molton brown eyes, his jaw clenched as he fought the urge to touch you. To drag you forward until his mouth met yours; the sensations that filled his body nearly painful in all their strength.

“Oberyn—”

His hand cupped your chin, pulling you gently until you could feel the warmth of his breath wash across your face. “Don’t you see my dove?”

A sigh left your lips, your body leaning into his touch against your will. “I’m not your—”

“Yes,” he rumbled, his nose pressing against yours, eyes boring straight to your soul. “You are.”

You took in a sharp breath, heat spreading rapidly down your spine until you could feel your body begging for more. How had things become so convoluted? How had you gone from merely existing in the same home as him, to being claimed by him. Others would kill to stand in your spot, to be his, but your heart held an aversion you couldn’t cure. No matter how much you wanted to.

Yet that didn’t stop you from sighing softly, welcoming his touch without question. He grinned at your complacency, seeing the want in your eyes even though your heart said something entirely different.

There would always remain a delicate line between love and hate. So thin it often came across as transparent and at this moment the line no longer existed. You hated him. Whatever pierced your heart had turned you cold towards the man before you—causing love to be frozen behind a thick wall of armor. Yet Oberyn was intent on breaking it down, on proving to you how much his heart was yours.

He took in a breath, inhaling your scent as you sunk further into his hold, fighting the war that waged within you. It wasn’t a simple choice to make—he knew this—but whatever made you loathe him seemed to be a continuous flame that wouldn’t go out with ease.

His lips brushed against yours, heart twisting painfully in his chest. “Don’t you know how sick with love I am for you?” he breathed.

It was the agony in his voice that did you in. Caused you to pull him in close, seal your lips over his, and go against everything your heart was screaming. You despised everything about him. Yet you found a different type of heaven from his lips alone. He licked into your mouth, hand gripping tightly onto the back of your neck as if he were claiming you. Possessing you entirely.

You dug your nails beneath his robe, dragging them harshly down his chest, delighting in the sound you pulled from him. Some wicked part of you—whether borne from the arrow that plunged through your heart, or the searing heat of his hands—wanted him to feel pain. To endure the sharp sting of your touch as you gripped him too hard—pulled him too roughly.

A beautiful and withering dichotomy compared to his ever so loving and gentle touch.

“Tell me you’re mine.” His teeth nipped at your throat, hand grasping for your hip to drag you even closer.

A gasp left your lips at the feeling of him pressing against you—prominent and thick. “I belong to no one,” you spit, sliding a hand into his hair and yanking him up.

Colliding your lips against his and swallowing his moan. He wanted to possess you and even with the strength to fight against the unknown feelings in your chest, you knew you wouldn’t win. Not when he pulled at a part of you that hadn’t come to life before. He poured sunlight into your body, filling you to the brim with its warmth, until all you could bleed and see and taste was him.

Wrenching yourself away from him, you reached for the belt of his robe. Perhaps if you rid yourself of him from your veins things would go back to normal. That night would have never happened. Except that’s not how it was planned; how it was meant to go. The arrow was tipped with emotion, a love so powerful it rivaled the Gods above. It was meant for the both of you.

Yet no matter how much Oberyn believed he could change how you felt—somehow make you desire him as much as he did you—he couldn’t. Hatred had solidified in your heart and removing it was no longer a possibility.

He stepped forward, causing you to stumble back until you could feel the rough bark of a tree pressed through your dress. You moaned when his tongue slid along yours, hands grasping to touch you anywhere he could. And you relished in the bliss that rushed through you. With a sigh your head tipped back, his lips, teeth, and tongue traveling down your chest, leaving a burning trail in its wake.

That heady sensation of lust tasted so sweet on your tongue you fell into it swiftly. Allowed it to overtake your body and control you. Licking at your nipple through the sheer fabric, he grinned at the cry that tore from you. A sound he wanted to hear as many times as he possibly could.

“Sing for me,” he said against your skin, his teeth digging in and eliciting a delicious spark of pain.

“Be careful—” He sunk down harder on the side of your breast until you cried out—ripping at his hair to pull him away. “I’m not a bird.”

He smiled. “You are far better than that my dove.”

“Your emotion blinds you.”

Pushing against his chest he fell back freely, until his body hit the Earth and his line of sight was filled entirely with you. The glow of the sun shimmered behind you, creating a halo around your entire body. Oberyn could feel the breath catch in his throat, his lust blown eyes drinking you in as if you were the sweetest ambrosia. He wanted to paint you, to permanently etch your image into a canvas or on a piece of parchment. But you didn’t give him a long enough time to admire.

You dropped over him, your knees planted on either side of his hips—core right over his throbbing cock. He grunted as you fully sat yourself in his lap, your lips curving into a rueful smile. Eyes filled with enough mirth to poison him.

“I am seeing clearer than I have before,” he murmured, his hand curving around your hip as you rocked forward, searching for some type of friction.

A breathy moan echoed in the air, the throbbing in between your legs growing the longer you grinded down. But eventually that no longer became enough. You wanted to feel him. To fall apart because of him, and without hesitation you began to pull at his clothes once more. He helped where he was needed, gasping when your hand met his leaking cock—spreading the precum down his length with a smile on your lips.

“If I am yours.” You pushed yourself up, positioning the head against your clit and sighing when it pushed against it deliciously. “Then that must mean—” Notching him at your entrance you watched his eyes flutter; his mouth dropping open as you sank down in one smooth thrust. “You are mine.”

“Gods,” he choked, fingers digging painfully into your thighs.

“I’m no God Oberyn,” you breathed, your body shaking from the stimulation of simply having him inside you.

“You’re—” His hips shoved upwards, watching your jaw fall open—a cry tearing from you. “Perfect.”

The words sunk into your chest, burning its way through your heart until there was a hole large enough for him to crawl into. A space that belonged to him. Even if it wasn’t there before the arrow was set free—forcing a place for the Prince to enter your life. You had become the ploy used to right the wrongs of what he’d done to upset the Gods—a pawn in the great scheme of their chess game.

Yet you found you had never felt more alive. Never felt such passion—emotions now raw and blinding consumed you entirely. And you let them.

Digging your nails into his chest and rolling your hips against his, you chased the building pressure in your body. Aching for it to break, rush through you like a flood. His hand pressed against your chest, directly over your heart, as his eyes met yours. The brow a blazing fire of lust and an emotion that terrified you to your very core. Love.

He didn’t know you, couldn’t say who you were before that arrow punctured his heart. Yet he now knew the beat of your heart, the way your cunt clenched around his cock with each rough thrust, and how your entire body lit up at his touch. He knew more than he needed to let that emotion swallow him whole. Falling into its jaws with a smile on his face—absolution filling his chest.

“You belong to me,” he rasped, his hips colliding with yours, feet planted on the ground to thrust into you with ease. 

“Mine to fuck.”

Your head fell back, a sharp keening sob crawling up your throat. 

“Mine to keep.”

Twisting your body, he watched your eyes fly open with surprise—your lips forming around his name as he shoved his cock back into you. Your eyes rolled back, fingers clawing at his back, and a garbled sound bouncing off the trees. He wanted to sear the image into his mind. Burn your very essence into his soul until there was no way to be rid of you.

You were the missing piece in his chest, the soul he’d chosen to keep. Sliding his hand down, he pinched your clit sharply and watched as you finally broke. Tumbling over the edge with a hoarse shout—your body bowing off the forest floor. He grinned, falling over you with a grunt, his hips slamming into yours as he chased his release. Desperate to follow you with ease.

Dragging your head up, he sealed his lips over yours, swallowing your sounds. With a broken moan, he finally broke. Spurting into you and watching as your entire body reacted—a soft sound being muffled into his mouth. You could no longer deny the want in your body, the desire you felt with a burning passion. So, you allowed it to devour you—gave into his touch with pleasure.

Hatred still simmered low in your chest, but here in this clearing, you couldn’t find it in yourself to give into its needs. How could you hate someone so intent on loving you? Someone who was ready to give up his soul for yours.

“Mine to love,” he breathed, sliding his lips down your jaw and towards your throat.

You sunk into his hold, sighing softly at the feel of his touch—finally content. “Yours.”

[madwomansapologist]

Can you do a oberyn martell x reader x ellaria sand ?

Can it be that you are a powerfull and sstunning woman leader and warrior and you reject them because you think they dont know struggle feels like , and you meet dany and fall in love with her eventually becoming queen and ...welll queen?

burn it | Oberyn Martell, Ellaria Sand, Daenerys Targeryen

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Oberyn Martell, Ellaria Sand and Daenerys Targaryen | AO3

synopsis: As the commander of the Martell's army, you dream about the day where your people would finally destroy the Lannisters. You share your life with Oberyn Martell, one of the greatest warriors that ever existed, and Ellaria Sand, a woman whose mind is as sharp as yours. It was perfect. Until you meet the dragon.

warnings: female!reader. Elia Martell needs to be avenged. Gregor Clegane needs to die. Lannisters death implied. Eddard Stark my beloved, my hero, the best man Westeros could ever had, my one and only savor. Imagine if the plot line with the Lannisters in Dorne and Daenerys conquering Westeros hapenned at the same time.

note: thanks for your request! So... I could never write those characters as weak cuz I love them and their arcs and actually I think that Oberyn is one of the best characters ever written, so I didn't follow your request in the exact way you wanted. Either way, I hope you like it!

When you're born in a war, you need to understand that no one but your side is human. If you don't, you curse yourself. Because thats gonna be a moment when you'll treat your enemy as a human and that will be the cause of your fall. You never committed that mistake.

Resentful is a great word to describe you. To describe how your mind works. You learned to divided the world in two: the ones by your side and the ones that need to be destroyed. Its only you and them against the world. You, Oberyn and Ellaria.

Few can say they found one great love in Westeros. And you have found two.

Oberyn offers you the tenderness that none could imagine coming from a warrior. You don't fear him seeing your wounds and scars: Oberyn's skin match yours. His pain feels like home. His gentle touch, sharp words, dirtiest smiles: Oberyn was made to defy you.

Ellaria helds you with a security that none could imagine coming from a bastard. You don't fear her hearing your worst thoughts and filthy truths: Ellaria's mind match yours. Her pain feels like home. Her rough hands, straight demands, dirtiest words: Ellaria was made to mirror you.

"The Lannister's ships were seen crossing the Narrow Sea."

Lying your head on Ellaria's chest, feeling the tip of her fingers slowly carresing the naked skin of your back, you almost didn't hear his words. You opened your eyes, glaring at Oberyn. Sitting on the other side of the bed, his dark eyes stared at the celling.

"And what we gonna do?" Ellaria asked. "They are too powerful." Ellaria would keep talking, but she felt your smile against her skin. "Whats on your mind, my lady?"

"The Lannisters are powerful." You supported yourself on your elbowns. Your humid hair, humid because of what them made to you, fell in front of your eyes. Ellaria tucked your hair behind your ear. "But thats not their land."

"So you want to judge them?" Ellaria licked her lips. "I think we could do that."

"No." You reply. Oberyn's stare burned your cheeks. "Lannisters are the ones that love judgments. I don't have energy to waste with their intricate lies. I want a war."

Oberyn disagreed. "We need a judgment. We need to hear to truth. We need to punish them with more than just a sword."

"We would win a war, but a judgment? Have you already forgotten what they did to Eddard Stark? I've never meet a more honorable man, and he was executed for treason. We can win a war."

"Eddard was executed because he was so honorable." Oberyn approached you, moving on the mattress. "We can do better than him. If we play it right we can end their bloodline."

"It don't feel right." You look deeply inside his dark eyes. "My lord, trust me. I feel it in my bones."

"I trust you. With my life. So trust me. We can make them pay." Oberyn slid his callused hands across the row of your column. "Unbowed."

Ellaria kissed his free hand. She made her choice, and it was to trust Oberyn. Looking at you, she let the words slide across her lips. "Unbent."

It didn't seem right. It wasn't the right choice. But nothing would stop Oberyn. Elia was your queen, but she was his sister. 'Was'? Can death separate brothers? Elia is his sister. Not even death can transform a 'is' into a 'was'.

"Unbroken." You ended, crawling to them.

"Repeat that."

You must have heard it wrong. You totally heard it wrong. That is no chance you didn't heard it wrong.

"Dragons." One of your sworn squires told you. "Three dragons."

Followed by your personal guard, armed with your usual weapons of choice, your horse was a extension of your body. You put on your armor to no look weak. You wouldn't look threatening, not with three dragons around you, but you couldn't look weak. The path circling the Sea of Dorne wasn't a concern of yours, all you could think about was Daenerys Targaryen.

She made her way from Dragonstone to Dorne. Why? No ship, no men, no army, but three dragons. If she wanted a war, she would win. But she asked for you. Daenerys Targaryen asked for you. You can't look weak, but that was no reason to go armed for a war.

Approaching the bay, you already could see them. Those dragons made you think about death. About how easy it could be for you to die because they felt hunger. Because they were bored. Because they didn't like your scent. If you didn't need to look strong, if you were just a soldier and not a general, you would be crying of fear.

Carressing what seem to be a squama, all you could see was the long blonde braided hair. Her clothes somehow reminded you of her dragons. You heard that she wasn't a warrior, but now you see what she is: a conqueror. The valyrian blood run in her veins.

"You asked for me." The crash of the waves, whatever the noises dragons made were called, made you scream to be heard. You leave your horse and squires behind, an act of trust.

When she turned it was difficult to not gasp. Daenerys Targaryen. Her beauty wasn't exaggerated. Or her guts. A Targaryen in Dorne? She may have dragons, and it did took you by surprise, but the history shows what your people did to them before.

The only way to defeat Dorne is by turning it into ash. Daenerys don't look like someone that would waist her time on that task.

Daenerys released her dragons. He flew away. She didn't even stumbled with the force of his jump. "Every Small Counsil needs a Lord Commander."

It wasn't a order. A request. A beg. It was just a simple phrase. And with something so simple she said more than anyone could. The Small Counsil server the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

"I am not a lord."

She look and talk like a conqueror. "And I am not a king."

Your smirk made Daenerys felt something different. Something warm.

"Thats a thing a lot of people before you tried to change without success", you started. "I fight for Dorne."

"But who said you would have to choose between Dorne or my offer?", said Daenerys. Her violet eyes seen to glow. "You're at one 'yes' of ending the Lannisters. At one 'yes' of avenging Elia."

You tried not to look tempted. "The Lannisters are under my watch. You offer me nothing I don't already own."

Daenerys took a deep breath.

"Don't lie to me. Don't lie to yourself. People here want justice, a confession, a proper judgment. You don't need that. Not only you don't need, but you don't believe it would work. What you want, what you know would be the best, is to feel the warm blood on your hands. Thats something I can give you."

You looked back. Your little army was far enough to not hear a word of what is being said. And her dragons are loud enough to make you certain of that.

"Why are you offering this to me?"

"Because you hate those who I hate. They killed your queen. They killed my brother, my father, the kids your queen foal."

It wasn't enough. "Lannisters collect enemies. If you want me to be honest, than do the same. Why me?"

"I need a Commander that I can trust. I need a Commander that won't forgot their words and kill me when winds change. I need a Commander that will kill whoever needs to be killed and defend whoever needs to be defended." Daenerys smile at you. "You are loyal to a dead queen. If I avenge her, would you be loyal to a living one?"

Daenerys took off her leather gloves. She reached out for you, showing her pale hand. "All you need to do is to make a feast. Have your fun, but make sure to lock all Lannisters in the room. I will make the rest."

It was difficult. The most difficult choice you ever made. But you couldn't lie to yourself.

You didn't took her hand into your. You didn't opened your mouth ou decorated your face with a smile. You bowed.

"My Khaleesi."

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[puchosdementa]

i luv him guys this is real

[biggestsimponhere]

Why does he always look like he just walked off the pages of a romance novel, Pedro please marry me.

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Having the attention of Oberyn

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Oberyn being clingy

~~~

Vipers were notorious creatures; quick, deadly, and adept hunters who'd strike and catch their prey before the poor creature even realized its intentions. They were beautiful with scales that glimmered under direct sunlight, smooth to the touch as they slithered against the skin, entrancing with their beauty and charm. The Red Viper was perhaps the most deadly with his ability to dance on the line between a vicious warrior and a dutiful lover. 

But alas, even with their sweet words and gentle touches, one always had to be careful of growing attached to a viper.

With the sun beginning to rise over the dunes in the east and chasing night away with its light, (Y/N) similarly went with the shadows. He moved quietly, managing to untangle himself from the prince without waking him and collecting the clothes Oberyn had haphazardly tossed around his room. Mindful of the crinkling of the clothes, he slipped them back on and spared the sleeping prince one last glance, ensuring his chest continued its steady rise and fall and his eyes remained closed. 

It was not uncommon for figures to be seen coming and going from the bedchambers of the prince, ladies and men alike slipping away for whatever reason after spending a night with Oberyn. Servants barely batted an eye at him when he stepped out into the halls, merely smiling and murmuring greetings before continuing down the halls. (Y/N) could only return the knowing smiles as he returned to his room, finding relief in the fact his elder brother remained in Starfall, although the whispers would no doubt reach him in no time. Those who resided in Sunspear or even in the shadow city sitting at the feet of the castle knew of Oberyn's infatuation with him, how he frequently courted and flirted but was left brushed aside. A game of chase they both equally enjoyed.

"And so you've finally fallen into his jaws," A husky voice purred right as he reached the doors of his bedchambers, hardly needing much else to identify who the voice belonged to. He pushed his door open and turned to face the heiress of Sunspear with the hint of a grin on his lips. "It was only a matter of time. Shame, though," Arianne batted her long lashes, slim fingers toying coyly with one of her dark curls. "I hoped to catch you first." 

"I'm not one of your little knights, Ari." (Y/N) replied, chuckling when her lips formed an exaggerated pout. "Nor am I my cousin."

"You most certainly are not." She laughed, crossing the distance swiftly and tossing her arms around him, purposefully pressing up against him and making use of the sheer silks she so often enjoyed wearing. With her shorter structure, she had to tilt her head up to look at him as she did with everyone else, flashing another smile. "You are much more interesting than Gerold. But alas, I love my uncle, and I will not steal his catch unless he decides to share." 

"Run along then, Ari." (Y/N) gave a small eye-roll, listening to her laugh echo down the hall when she retreated, the purple skirt of her dress flowing freely behind her. 

Once the sun rose and stepped out of hiding, (Y/N) knew it'd only be a matter of time before Oberyn would be on the prowl again, no doubt more determined to find him once he realized he'd snuck out of bed. He kept himself on the move, visiting his usual spots but only lingering long enough for a servant or courtier to be able to point Oberyn in the right direction.

It'd always been fun; pretending as if he wasn't fully aware he was being hunted down by the Red Viper. It'd started as youths when his parents had brought him to Sunspear, back when his siblings, Arthur and Ashara, as well as Elia Martell, were still living and breathing. (Y/N) had never given in to the prince, but he supposed Oberyn had caught him in a better mood than usual.

(Y/N) peeked over his shoulder, his footsteps light and quick while he walked, gingerly plucking a plum from one of the trays once he confirmed he was in the clear. He stepped forward toward the railings overlooking the gardens, searching for any sign of Oberyn or one of his Sand Snakes who'd no doubt betray him in exchange for helping their father. He bit into the plum, tasting the tart flavor from the skin and then a sweetness. He considered heading to the Water Gardens but right as the thought crossed his mind, arms wrapped around him from behind and caged him against the railing.

"Little Star," Oberyn's familiar voice murmured in his ear, lips brushing over his earlobe before dipping to kiss the base of his neck. (Y/N) tried biting back a smile. "You left too soon. There was more fun to be had."

"Was there? I thought that perhaps you'd be... too tired." (Y/N) replied teasingly, taking another bite of the plum before Oberyn spun him around to be chest to chest. His dark eyes narrowed playfully yet he planted a chaste kiss between (Y/N)'s brows. "A man of your age needs much rest, no?"

"You say that as if you're Arianne's age." Oberyn huffed, palms moving to run along (Y/N)'s hips and back with a familiar spark igniting in his eyes. He glanced at the bitten fruit in his hand and arched a questioning brow, the corner of his lips twitching upward when (Y/N) offered the rest to him. Instead of plucking the fruit from his hand, Oberyn swooped in to kiss him, tongue darting between his lips. (Y/N) couldn't help the muffled laugh that escaped him, his hand lightly shoving Oberyn's shoulder and breaking the kiss. 

"I should have known." (Y/N) allowed himself to melt into Oberyn's arms when he brushed their noses together despite knowing fully well how enchanting the Red Viper's eyes were. 

"Come," Oberyn tugged on his hips and kissed the corner of his lips. "You must make this morning's escape up to me, Little Star."

[sanarsi]

Kinktober Day 12

Handjob

Oberyn Martell x prostitute!f!Reader

Gif credits @iamasaddie

Summary: Oberyn is busy discussing important matters for the kingdom but he can't resist taking care of you as you sit thirsty on his lap. Warnings: +18, MDNI, fingering in front of witnesses, pussy slapping, praising, dom!Oberyn Wordcount: 0,7k An: We're moving on bitches because my writer's block has been going down for now (please, I want to finish this fucking Kinktober by the end of the year. I swear I'll never get into this again). My birthday and the Sleep Token concert are comin up so I'm super happy and everythin in my life is slowly starting to fall into place so that means I'll be able to get back to writing and enjoy it <3

Masterlist and Kinktober Masterlist

You looked at the papers lying on the table. You didn't even try to read them, you just had to focus on something to keep yourself from going crazy.

Sitting on the prince's lap, all you could do was feel.

And now you felt him way too well.

“Oh gods,” you whispered, arching against his chest.

You glanced down to see his fingers slowly rubbing circles over your clit and didn't even dare to say anything, even though you could feel yourself leaking onto his robes.

You bit your lip to control a moan and pushed your hips a little into his hand.

His fingers disappeared immediately and a moment later you felt a slap straight to your pussy. You squealed quietly at the piercing pain and felt heat on your cheeks from embarrassment and excitement.

“Stay still,” he growled, glancing at you before returning to his conversation with the men next to him.

You didn't know what they were talking about but only because you weren't even listening to them. All you could focus on was how his fingers were slowly guiding you towards fulfillment.

You snuggled closer to him and spread your legs more as he gave you the attention you craved.

His fingers returned to slowly massaging your already swollen clit. As always, he did it perfectly. Each movement sent waves of pleasure through your hips, reaching places you had no idea about.

With a grimace of pleasure, you watched as his hand covered your pussy and after a moment, his two fingers sank into your soaked slit. You whimpered as you felt him slowly begin to fuck you.

With each passing second, you were getting closer to heaven, but his movements were too slow to end your torment.

You arched your back, dropping your head onto his shoulder as you drowned in the excessive pleasure that seemed to have no end. Your quiet moans, however, were not ignored and after a moment, you could feel a gentle kiss on your neck before you were once again left at the mercy of his fingers.

There was no shame in you even though several men were watching you, for you only he mattered, the only one who didn't give you as much attention as you needed, as you desired.

You tightened your hand on his thigh, silently begging him to let you end the fight with your own body, which was slowly starting to disobey you. You felt your pussy burn and with it the rest of your body, waves of pleasure passing through it as if you had already come even though you were far from it.

Despite this, you remained silent, knowing that you shouldn't speak. Your only permission was to sit on the prince's lap and humbly accept his caresses. And that's exactly what you did, except that with each subsequent entry of his fingers into your pussy, you were getting worse at controlling your moans.

It didn't escape his attention because after a moment, his touch was once again focused on your clit.

You whimpered when he slowly started massaging your sensitive spot again and you didn't try to fight the burning feeling of an approaching orgasm.

“My prince...” you whispered, barely catching your breath and tensed up, not wanting to break the feeling that was getting closer to your core.

You froze, counting the seconds until waves of pleasure spread through your body, pulsating through your body, bringing you the desired relief.

You moaned loudly, and everyone in the room fell silent, focusing their attention on you.

You panted heavily, trembling on his lap as his fingers gradually slowed their movements, allowing you to descend from the peak to the world of the living.

You smiled blissfully as you felt Oberyn run his nose down your neck to your ear where he placed a gentle kiss.

“Very good,” he praised you while running his fingers over your slit to collecting your juices before plunging them into your mouth. You sucked them in with a purr, licking them clean and only then did the prince's attention return to the matters he had discussed earlier.

But this time he had a satisfied slut on his lap.

Tags: @mattmurdocksdumpy @milly-louise @rosi3ba3z @candlelover @gothcsz @tateypots @chloe302225 @natalieispunk @amyispxnk @mandoloriancookie @libre-sol @alex-does-art-things @xxchumanixx @ch3rryyyyyyyyyy @bbyanarchist @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @ilovejoel-andjavi @uncassettodiricordi @puddles221b @syd-djarin @audie-writes

[bits-and-babs]

🐺 Dark Paradise

expect more of these cause the love I have for Lana Del Ray is strong.

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐏𝐀𝐑��𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄 — 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

warnings: 18+ MDNI, Oral (f receiving), sad af, mentions of violence, SAD AF. 

oberyn masterlist | main masterlist | follower celebration | taglist

Arching your back from the bed, you sob out the name that had repetitively dripped from your lips all evening. You’d craved him for so long, what feels like an eternity, begging him to return to bed and relinquish you from the sleeplessness that had been forcing your eyelids open in the darkness. 

The candle on the bedside table flickers a warm gold across the bare skin of your thighs, crowning the Prince with a gilded halo of light. His brown curls wrap around your fingers as you clutch at them for dear life, bracing against the overwhelming torrent of feeling that only he could bless you with, his magic mouth and tongue enchanting you with a bliss that consistently took your breath away. 

“Oberyn-” you sob softly, tears streaming down your cheeks and into the fabric of the pillow that you rest your head against. He hums softly in response, the vibration against your clit that he has wrapped his lips around makes your eyes roll back into your skull, whimpering as the way it skitters down your spine and sparks across your extremities. 

“Oh- Please don’t stop,” you beg him softly, almost breathless as he pulls wave after wave of bliss between your thighs as they tremble against his ears. Your heels push into his spine, between his shoulder blades, but Oberyn doesn’t complain. Instead, he continues to assault your poor clit with his mouth, his tongue, raking his teeth over it. 

“D-Don’t-” you wail, more tears spilling out and wetting your lashes, “Don’t leave- Please don’t leave me like this-”

Oberyn pauses his ministrations, a frown creasing between his brows as he watches your pained expression. 

“My love,” he coos softly, resting his head just below your navel. His curls tickle your skin, his deep brown eyes gazing up at you with confusion. “What makes you request such a thing?”

Sobbing into the sea breeze, you scrub at your face with your palms and dig your nails into your hairline. The agony rips through your chest and buckles your knees, dropping them into the sand as you collapse at the waterline of the Dornish sea. It’s dark, the golden sands lit only by the torch that smoulders in the grains, discarded by your trembling hands. 

‘Today is not the day I die,’ he had promised you that day. He had kissed at your temple, offered the kind smile that he always blessed you with whenever his eyes caught your own. Tywin Lannister’s eyes had been filled with pride, vindication when The Mountain had gouged out those beautiful oak irises with his thumbs, smothering Oberyn and snuffing him out. 

In a way, he hadn’t died that day at all. He haunted you constantly, visiting you in your dreams and entering your mind at every waking moment, refusing to leave. 

Laying down in the sand, you wail his name, begging him to return to bed and relinquish you from the sleeplessness that had been forcing your eyelids open in the darkness, always thinking of him.

[novaursa]

Hi! 🫂

English is not my first language!

Stark!reader x Oberyn Martell

Where reader is engaged to Oberyn. She was at the red wedding and reader is hurt with Greywind and her direwolf "Winter". They go to Dorne for help. You can choose how the ending goes! Hope you understand what i writing and sorry again for my bad english! 🫣

Shadow of the Red Wedding

- Summary: You attened the Red Wedding and survive. You wake up with Oberyn watching over you.

- Paring: stark!reader/Oberyn Martell

- Note: Let's pretend the reader was smuggled by surviving Stark loyalists somewhere safe while unconscious. Don't think too much about the logic of it. 🙃

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The air inside the Twins is thick, almost suffocating. Your head is spinning from the wine, the noise, and the underlying tension you can’t quite place. The hall is alive with music and laughter, but there's something sour in the atmosphere, like rotten meat left too long in the sun. Winter is restless beside you, her silver eyes darting around, ears flicking with every cheer and clang of cups. You scratch behind her ears absently, trying to calm your own nerves more than hers.

You’re wedged between Roslin Frey’s nervous chatter and your brother Robb’s booming laughter, pretending to be more at ease than you feel. Your thoughts keep drifting south, to the warmth of the sun and a pair of dark, mischievous eyes that always seem to hold more secrets than you can pry loose. Oberyn. Your betrothed. The Red Viper of Dorne. He would laugh at this, laugh at your unease, call you too much the wolf in the lion’s den.

Winter growls low in her throat, her hackles rising. You glance down, heart skipping a beat. She’s never like this unless—

The music shifts, a sudden lurch from joyous melodies to something sharp, discordant. There’s a flash of movement, too quick, too chaotic, and then it’s all blood and screams and steel flashing in the torchlight.

“Winter!” you shout, but she’s already leaping, jaws snapping, fur bristling like a storm. She barrels into a group of Frey men, teeth sinking into the arm of one who’s rushing Robb. You’re on your feet, blade in hand—when did you draw it?—and then you’re fighting, the clash of swords ringing in your ears, too loud, too close.

It’s a blur of chaos. You feel the sting of a blade slicing across your arm, the burn of another grazing your side. You slash and parry, trying to reach Robb, to reach your mother—your family, your home, everything falling apart around you. Winter’s a whirlwind of white and red, tearing through the Freys, snarling and snapping, but there are too many.

You see it then, the crossbow, the bolt flying, and Robb’s eyes widening as it strikes. A scream rips from your throat, raw and desperate, but you don’t remember making the sound. Everything slows, like moving through water, and then you’re on the ground, pain flaring bright and hot in your side, your leg—where did that knife come from?

Winter is over you, growling, her fur wet and matted with blood—yours, hers, it’s hard to tell. You reach for her, fingers tangling in her fur, and then there’s Grey Wind, a silver blur crashing through the hall, jaws snapping around the throat of a man who’s raising his sword. For a moment, there’s hope, the wolves together, tearing through the carnage.

But there’s too much blood. You’re slipping, darkness creeping at the edges of your vision. You feel Winter’s weight on your chest, her muzzle pressed to your face, a low whine vibrating through her. You want to tell her it’s okay, that you’re okay, but you can’t seem to find the words. The world tilts, and then it’s all gone.

When you wake, everything hurts. Every breath is a knife in your ribs, every twitch of your fingers a fresh wave of agony. You’re not dead, but you almost wish you were. The ceiling above you is unfamiliar, high and vaulted, and the air smells different, warmer, filled with spices and salt.

South. You’re somewhere south.

It’s a slow, agonizing process to turn your head, and even slower to make sense of what you’re seeing. There’s a shadow in the doorway, tall and broad, and then he’s there, beside you, hands hovering like he’s afraid to touch you.

“Oberyn,” you manage, your voice a rasping whisper.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at you, and it’s almost unbearable, the intensity in his eyes, the raw emotion you’ve never seen him wear so openly. Then he curses, long and colorful, something about wolves and stubborn northern women, and it’s almost funny, almost.

“You’re not dead,” he says finally, and it’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard because of course you’re not. Not yet, anyway.

“I thought…they said…all dead.” He’s shaking his head, and you realize, dimly, that he’s shaking too, trembling like the ground before a storm. “And then you show up here, bleeding all over my nice sheets.”

You almost laugh, but it turns into a cough, and he’s there, hands on your shoulders, his face close to yours, and he’s angry—no, furious—but not at you. Never at you. You wonder if he’s going to kiss you or strangle you, and then he’s doing neither, just holding you, whispering something in that smooth, honeyed voice, too soft for you to make out.

“Winter?” you ask, because it’s the only thing that matters right now. Where is she? Did she—

“Alive,” he says, and his voice is different now, something raw and aching in it. “Your wolf is alive. Nearly tore a hole in our healer’s arm when they tried to get close to you.”

You close your eyes, relief washing over you. Winter’s alive. She’s alive. And so are you. You want to say something, to tell him how much you missed him, how sorry you are for nearly dying, but the words are tangled up inside you, too big, too heavy.

“You’re a bloody fool,” he says instead, his hand brushing over your cheek, gentle now, so gentle it almost breaks you. “What were you thinking, going to that damned wedding? Your brother, your mother—” He cuts off, his jaw tight, and you see it there, the grief, the pain he’s trying so hard to hide.

You want to tell him it’s not his fault, that you had to go, that you had no choice. But you’re tired, so tired, and his hand is warm, and he’s here, and maybe that’s enough for now. You let your eyes close, feeling the press of his lips against your forehead, the last thing you hear before you slip back into darkness is his voice, low and fierce:

“You’re mine, you stubborn wolf. I’m not letting you go that easily.”

[happilyhertale]

A royal encounter - Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell

Summary: Daemon had a great idea to bring a breath of fresh air into your marriage. But his plans were thwarted.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; oral f receiving, fingering (f in v and f in a), p in v sex, p in a sex

Author’s note: To celebrate the one year anniversary of my very first posted story, I've decided to finally post the Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell story.... I hope you like it! And… Thanks for reading my stories for a year! 🖤 I am very happy that you still want to read my stories!

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 3.3 k

Other stories of mine

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You cling to the railing with your hands. Daemon's hands dig into your hips almost unpleasantly, the marks of his fingernails will be visible for a long time. His thrusts slowly subside and his breath comes heavily. A warm breeze envelops you, here on the balcony of your old chambers. You have sought a little excitement, escaping the boring ball that has lured many lords and ladies to King's Landing. That's how Daemon came to practically push you into your old chambers for a bit of excitement.

You are both still breathing heavily as Daemon slowly pulls out of you. His soft laugh rings out as he gently kisses your nose.

But then this gentle moment is interrupted as someone applauds you and a clap is heard.

For a second Daemon's gaze meets yours before he looks over his shoulder and sees Prince Oberyn Martell standing in the middle of the chambers. He grins, "Perhaps I should have tried harder to seduce a Targaryen princess after all," Prince Oberyn says cheekily. In one movement Daemon pulls his trousers completely up and spins around, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, is the Prince of Dorne trying to make a pass at my wife?" hisses Daemon.

A gasp escapes you and you try to hide your naked body behind Daemon's. Your gaze wanders, searching for your dress, which Daemon had torn off you just moments before.

As Prince Oberyn chuckles, "No... But now that I've seen how much fun you've had, I wish I'd had it too," he says to him. Daemon's gaze falls slightly over his shoulder, seeing you trying to cover your body. He sees you reaching for your dress, which is lying on the floor.

He looks back at Oberyn and his mood suddenly seems more relaxed. He starts to button up his shirt, "I think we were just looking for a little excitement here," Daemon replies.

"But..," Daemon adds suddenly, "if you want to join us, I could certainly be persuaded."

You are pulling up your dress and frowning when you hear his words, "Daemon? Did you just invite Prince Oberyn to a threesome?" you ask him a little shocked.

Daemon hears your words, but before he can say anything back, Oberyn intervenes. 

"A threesome?" asks Prince Oberyn with a grin, "I would have thought you were a jealous husband rather than an adventurous one...". Oberyn's words echo through the chambers and your eyes fall on Daemon again. You know he can be jealous, but this time something else is reflected in his eyes.

Daemon chuckles softly, "We could have a good time in these old chambers here," he says mischievously, "It might make everything a little more exciting." Daemon turns slightly, looking you straight in the eye, "What do you think? Is the Prince of Dorne a threat to our marriage?" he asks you gently. His thumb gently strokes your cheek.

You are not easily embarrassed, but this idea makes you blush. You bite your lip lightly, the pulsing between your legs reignited. Prince Oberyn was a handsome man. No less handsome than your husband, but in total contrast.

"No... he's not a threat. I only love you..." you say softly to Daemon.

Your gaze drifts to Prince Oberyn and his mischievous grin jumps out at you. He begins to unbutton his shirt and his lightly tanned chest is revealed. It is a stark contrast to your fair skin. Gently he brushes his shirt off his shoulders, revealing muscles that are rather small compared to Daemon's – he is defined but slender in stature. You step forward and stand next to Daemon.

But Daemon's gaze follows Oberyn's actions as he unbuttons his shirt, looking at his wife. He sees pure lust in Oberyn's eyes, the brown of his eyes barely discernible – his pupils dilated with lust.

Daemon notices how handsome Oberyn is and feels an excitement welling up inside him.

Oberyn's gaze falls on Daemon's face and notices Daemon trying to hide his excitement, but he sees his eyes fixed on the scene before him. A smile spreads across Oberyn's face. Oberyn walks towards you and slowly kneels on the ground in front of you.

You gasp briefly as his gaze goes up to you and he smiles at you. His hands reach for your dress and slowly begin to lift it.

The blush on your face continues to spread to your cleavage. Never has another man been about to touch you like this.

As Oberyn's voice brings you back to reality, "The blush is much more visible on your pale skin, Princess," he murmurs, "No need to be nervous, you'll enjoy it"

You bite your lip, even though you don't want to be nervous, you feel it flood through you.

You feel Daemon behind you, his hands on your shoulder. His thumbs glide gently over the crook of your neck. However unfamiliar this situation may be, Daemon's touch soothes you.

"Well?" asks Oberyn suddenly, "Do you want me to have her?" 

Your eyes slide from Oberyn's to Daemon's purple eyes. Slightly peeking over your shoulder, your lips meet, "I want you both, Daemon..." you whisper against his lips.

Oberyn chuckles lightly as he lifts your dress further. You're not wearing any undergarments and as Oberyn pushes your dress up to your hips, your light pubic hair is revealed.

"Mmm, the silver hair of the Targaryens..." he murmurs, pressing his face into it. A smile crosses his face, the smile of an artist when he sees the masterpiece he has created. 

You gasp as Oberyn presses his face into your pubic area. You exhale heavily, watching Oberyn enjoy the warmth of your private parts.

Daemon watches Oberyn and a slight, excited growl forms in his chest. Your previous words, "I want you both," also add to his arousal. Daemon's lips gently touch your neck as his hands begin to slide your dress down from your shoulders.

Prince Oberyn lets his tongue slide slowly through your womanhood. His fingers gently pull apart your folds so he can fully enjoy you.

You moan as you feel Oberyn's tongue find your bundle of nerves and gently circle it.

A "mmhmm" sounds from Oberyn as he pushes his face further into you. Your breath quickens as you feel Daemon lightly bite the soft skin of your neck and Oberyn circles his tongue faster. Your moans echo through the chambers.

When Oberyn suddenly lets go of your warm core and you whimper in disappointment. Your eyes fall on Oberyn, who looks up at you. His lips are glistening with your juice. Slowly he stands up and begins to open his trousers. Meanwhile Daemon lets your dress fall to the floor. His hands slide to your breasts, massaging them lightly. His thumbs and fingers grip your nipples, teasing them lightly. His lips continue to caress your neck as another moan leaves your lips.

You are now standing naked in front of them both. And your teeth don't want to release your lip. As Oberyn takes one of your hands and leads you away from Daemon. You take a step and slip out of your dress, which is lying at your feet. Slowly he leads you to the bed.

You climb onto the bed and Oberyn, who is naked himself, lies down beside you and begins to caress your body with his fingers. You see how Oberyn's hot length is already aroused and unlike Daemon's, a dark ring surrounds his size. You can't resist, you run your fingers through the hair. Oberyn grins at you and now he lightly bites his lip.

Your eyes fall on Daemon and you watch as his gaze is fixed on you. A shiver runs down your spine as you see his gaze follow Oberyn's fingers on your skin. Daemon begins to undress, his eyes never leaving you. First his shirt falls, revealing his muscular torso. The scars from all the battles won litter his pale skin. Your arousal rises immensely. As Daemon undresses from the waist down and his arousal immediately springs free, you moan. The way Daemon stands in front of you and Oberyn's fingers find their way between your thighs is too exciting.

Daemon's attention is on you, the love of his life, and the tanned man next to you, caressing you on the bed and sliding his fingers through your wetness. Daemon comes towards you with long strides, gently sliding himself onto the bed with you. His fingers find your hips, reach into your curves as he begins to play around your nipple with his tongue. You moan again as his teeth begin to nibble lightly. 

Daemon's lips slowly glide up your neck. A game of kisses and light bites until he encloses your lips. You breath into his mouth as Oberyn slides his hand to your bottom and turns you to Daemon. You lie on your side, your hand glides over Daemon's chest to his neck while your tongues dance wildly around each other. Oberyn brushes your silver hair aside and begins to kiss your neck softly. His fingers slide down your thigh, until his hand reaches the curves of your bottom and grips firmly. You whimper into Daemon's mouth. Oberyn releases your butt cheek and lets his fingers slide between your thighs. You whimper again as he covers his finger with your wetness and slides it to your butt hole. He applies light pressure and your whimpering repeats itself.

His fingers are slick with your wetness, easing the way as they tease the sensitive spot. He wants to push you further, to see how far you're willing to go. Experimentally, he stroked his fingers against your hole.

Oberyn's breath hitches as your hips begin to move slightly. A soft sound comes from you and your bottom presses lightly against his finger, your slight gasp sending a wave of satisfaction through him. He pressed a little harder, his finger slowly sliding into your tight, forbidden entrance.

The feeling of you around his finger, it all fueled his desire, igniting a primal need within him. He let out a low grunt in response, his own pleasure intertwining with yours.

He could feel his own cock hardening almost painfully, aching for the intense pleasure that only you could provide at the moment. The sound of your whimpering, your vulnerability and need, only served to heighten his own desire to please you.

Daemon's fingers mirror Oberyn's movements as his fingers slide between your legs. His attention is on your clit at first until he slides them inside you. You hear him growl softly as he feels the walls of your cunt already clenching around his fingers.

Daemon looks at you with slightly parted lips, enjoying the sight of ecstasy on your face. "You always take my fingers so well inside of you," Daemon mumbles a little breathlessly, "just like my tongue... My cock"

You whimper again and your fingers grab his biceps.

Daemon growls again and his gaze falls on Oberyn, who grunts slightly as he slides his fingers into your butthole.

"The princess is so tight," Oberyn murmurs and Daemon feels a tingle inside him as he hears the words. You gasp and bite your lip lightly as Oberyn's fingers thrust deeper, his warm breath on your neck.

Daemon lets his lips meet yours again, both of you breathing heavily, his fingers thrusting faster into you, completely wet with your juices. He starts to insert another finger into you and you moan almost desperately. The sensation of your wetness coating his fingers only fueled his desire further, knowing that you are becoming more and more receptive to his touch. He elicits a long whine from you as he curls his digits against your sensitive walls.

You feel the fingers thrusting into you. But this time it's so much more than usual. Daemon's fingers keep rubbing over the rough part of your wet walls, making you whimper, while Oberyn's fingers keep stretching your tight hole, awakening the feeling inside you that you need to feel so much more.

You moan out loud and before you've fully realised it, you feel Daemon's fingers pull out of you and slide his hot length through your wet folds. You whimper slightly each time he grazes your sensitive pearl. You moan even louder as he presses lightly against your entrance and you whimper again at the thought of how perfectly he will fill you.

"I think the princess will be perfectly filled tonight," Oberyn whispers, followed by a slight chuckle, as if he can read your mind. His lips still pressed against your neck as his fingers continue to explore your depths.

Daemon thrusts hard into you and your walls give way to his size. Daemon grunts loudly as he's back in his warm, soft home. His large hand slides to the back of your thigh, but you are distracted by the penetrating thrusts. He grabs your thigh and guides your leg closer to his body, placing your knee on his hip so he can penetrate you deeper.

He thrusts forward again and again, conjuring up the sweetest whimpering noises from you.

When you suddenly feel Oberyn's fingers leave your tight hole, you almost feel an emptiness inside you that needs to be filled. But then you feel his cock sliding along between your thighs from behind. Again and again he rubs it through your wet folds, soaking it with your wetness, while Daemon continues to thrust into your cunt.

Oberyn's cock throbbed with desire while his lips are still pressed against your neck. His breathing becomes heavier and you feel the warmth on the soft skin of your neck as he positions himself at your tight entrance.

You're slightly distracted by Daemon's thrusts and grunts, but you feel Oberyn begin to press the tip of his cock against your butt hole. You cry out slightly, but it ends in a long moan.

With a deep, primal grunt, he presses the tip of his cock against the entrance, feeling the resistance and tightness that awaits him. The whimpers and moans escaping your lips only fuelled his desire, his own need becoming unbearable.

But your butthole quickly gives way. Still slightly stretched by Oberyn's fingers, it almost greedily envelops the tip of his cock. You hear Oberyn moaning in your ear, breathing heavily.

"Gods... Princess... I haven't even been all the way inside you yet and you already feel so divinely tight," Oberyn murmurs breathlessly – you can only whimper.

Oberyn follows Daemon's rhythm and every time Daemon pushes your pelvis backwards, Oberyn takes the opportunity. Your bottom is pushed towards Oberyn again and again and each time he thrusts a little harder to meet your movements.

You feel yourself getting restless and your hand suddenly reaches for Oberyn's bottom. Your hand grips his small, firm bottom and squeezes gently. Oberyn continues to thrust slowly but firmly and you are caught up in the feeling of wanting to feel him deeper, but the slight pain forces you to take it slowly. But your hand starts to push him closer to you as a mix of whimpers and moans leave you. Oberyn stretches you further and further and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

With one final, powerful thrust, Oberyn conquers your tight hole and moans loudly. You cry out briefly, but the pain quickly subsides and gives way to pure pleasure. You realise how completely filled you are. Daemon and Oberyn are now thrusting in unison and you are trapped in their grips – and you don't want it to end. You put your head back and Oberyn immediately turns his attention back to your neck. He bites in lightly as he thrusts into your tight hole.

"Gods... Gods... fuck..." leaves his lips again and again.

With a primal instinct, he grabs your hips and slides closer to you. His thrusts now go deeper. He savours your tightness and the pleasure he brings you. The sound of your soft cries and moans fill the air as Daemon and Oberyn thrust into you, driving them both even further into a state of primal lust.

Daemon's hand is still on your thigh, lifting it slightly as he thrusts into your cunt. Oberyn's fingers grip your hips tighter as his thrusts penetrate you from behind.

Daemon grunts to himself, feeling the unusual resistance on his cock every time Oberyn thrusts into you and it turns him on. He thrusts harder and feels your cunt literally pulsating. His hand slides from your thigh to your breast, gripping it tightly as his lips slam onto yours. A wild kiss, accompanied by whimpers and moans, unfolds between you.

Your foot slides to the back of his thigh, wanting to pull him closer, needing to feel him deeper.

Daemon breathes heavily and grunts as your kiss ends. His eyes are fixated on the sight of you taking Oberyn's cock up your ass as he continues to fuck your cunt. The combination of your actions, the raw lust emanating from you, elicits a primal moan from deep within him.

With each thrust, he feels the lust building inside him and the need for release becomes almost unbearable. But he wants to savour this moment, savour your pleasure, revel in the intoxicating connection you share. Daemon's hand lets go of your breast and slides to your leg again.

His grip is firm and so are his thrusts, which become more intense and violent. The sound of your moans and the beginning trembling of your thighs only fuel his desire and bring him even closer to the edge.

You feel that you are about to come. The sensation of being filled in both holes is almost too much and you feel the familiar pressure spreading through your abdomen.

"Yes... Come on my cock," Daemon grunts, " Show me how good it feels for you to be filled like this," he grunts as his cock starts to twitch dangerously as well. Oberyn starts grunting behind you. He can feel your whole abdomen literally start to clench. His hand slides from your hip to your warm core. You look down, breathing heavily, and see Daemon thrusting into you and Oberyn's fingers begin to rub your clit. You are a moaning mess. The pressure inside you becomes almost unbearable.

"Be an obedient wife... come while our cocks fill you," Oberyn grunts in your ear as his fingers rub faster.

You only whimper, followed by a loud moan.

"I'm going to fill you up, princess... My seed will fill this tight hole," Oberyn grunts further, thrusting deeper.

And then you come, your cunt clenches around Daemon's cock, milking him and driving him over the edge with you. He growls and grunts loudly, pumping his cum deep into your cunt with deep thrusts.

Oberyn follows shortly after you and dresses your dark walls in white. He bites the back of your neck and immerses himself in the sensation. The grips on your body are firm, the feeling wonderful.

You whimper softly as the grunting around you slowly dies down. There is a smell of sweat and sex in the air. Heavy breathing echoes off the walls. Your light whimpers come to a climax as the two of them slowly pull out of you. Exhausted, you let yourself sink against Daemon's chest while Oberyn lies on his back, breathing heavily. His hand rests on your bum, stroking it gently.

"Maybe I should visit King's Landing more often after all..." mumbles Oberyn as he looks up at the ceiling.

Your eyes are closed, but instead of a reply, you hear a slight chuckle from Daemon.

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Tag list:

@hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @sylasthegrim @dreamlandcreations @hopelesswritergall @wetbitchlibrary @arcielee @just-some-random-blogger @softyhwrt @bl4ckph0enix

[goslingforlife]

To the dearest, José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal. 🫠❤️

Now playing: Wild Child by The Black Keys.

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

ACCEPTING HOUSE OF THE DRAGON AND GAME OF THRONES REQUESTS

Since House of the Dragon/GOT won the poll, I will be posting that first whilst I work on my requests from my hiatus, so I am accepting requests only for HOTD AND GOT at the moment.

Please remember to check my rules for what I do and don't accept.

[biggestsimponhere]

MY MAN WON HIS AWARD YK THATS RIGHT, JOEL MILLERS NEVER HURT A FLY 🫣😗

[bumblesimagines]

Headcanon:

Being Oberyn's lover

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, GN!Reader

~~~

Oberyn is an infamous man for several reasons, some of which include the rumors of his usage of poison during duels and an interest in the dark arts. Posion-laced swords and dark arts aside, one of the most notable things about him is his multitude of lovers. From men to women, nobles to brothel workers, Oberyn is no stranger to sex and hardly a stranger to love. He may have a wandering eye but his heart remains fiercely loyal to his lovers/paramours and his many daughters whom he deeply cares for despite their bastard status. 

As such, it is no surprise that you catch Oberyn's eye during one of his trips with Ellaria throughout Westeros. He needs little convincing to speak to you and is as smooth as butter when he begins flirting. While he enjoys giggling maidens or blushing lords, his interest spikes when you come off as indifferent to his charm. He is a Dornishman and Dornishmen love a challenge, especially when he notices your eyes linger on him for far too long to be uninterested. 

Of course, Oberyn mentions his interest to Ellaria, for she is essentially his wife and the mother of many of his daughters. Ellaria provides her approval and encouragement, even going as far as befriending you and acting as some sort of wingwoman to her lover. You quickly put together her involvement in Oberyn's plan to woo you and while it's unusual at first, you learn that it's not so odd in Dorne. A cat-and-mouse game ensues and Oberyn's interest becomes all the more clear to others.

Oberyn's main love languages are gift-giving and physical touch, although he'll provide every other love language known to mankind. Since Oberyn's interest extends past sex, you'll be properly courted by him and this will include countless lavish gifts. He is a prince, after all, and his wealth knows little bounds. You can expect a variety of gifts, from clothes to brooches and anything you can think of. You mention wanting something? Expect that very thing sitting in your room the next day. Oberyn is also very handsy with his lovers and always has a hand on them or has them sit on his lap. He's still a prince and gentleman, however, so he will keep his hands to himself until you are comfortable enough with him. Once he has that green light, expect to find his hand resting on your waist or back, and don't be surprised if it wanders.

 You nod along to the lord as he speaks, absentmindedly listening to the conversation about lands and such. None of it really interests you as you're the thirdborn in your family and the likelihood of you ever needing to know much of what he spoke of was slim. The conversation shifts onto his children as he recalls a funny story and then begins the prodding.

"I hear you remain unwed." The Lord hums thoughtfully and strokes his beard. "We've been searching for someone to wed my second eldest-"

"My Lord," A familiar voice greets from behind and sends a welcomed jolt up your spine, unable to contain the smile before it breaks out on your face. Oberyn steps up beside you and his lips curl up in a genuine smile for you, the palm of his hand pressing soothingly against your lower back and slowly creeping to wrap his fingers around your hip. He holds eye contact, even as he speaks to the man. "I'm afraid I'll have to steal this one from you, My Lord." He simply states and without waiting for a response, he sweeps you away from the sputtering lord. 

"Oberyn," You laugh softly and send an apologetic look over your shoulder right before Oberyn leads you fully out of the room. He spins around on his heel and cups your face, his warm skin pressing against yours. His eyes lack their typical sultriness or grumpiness, instead replaced with a fond look that makes you want to look away. He leans forward and kisses you gently. 

"How are you, dearest?" 

Once Oberyn manages to convince the head of your family, you find your belongings packed and ready for Dorne. Oberyn and Ellaria show great excitement and contentment over this, talking about all the things they wish to show you and the people they want you to meet. Dorne is a hot, desert and mountain-covered region but Sunspear is a gorgeous castle surrounded by the ocean and the shadow city. Oberyn's family is welcoming, if not a bit exhausted with him, but they're still warm and kind to you. Though Doran is semi-distant at first, his children are much friendlier and happy to get to know you. After Doran and his children, Ellaria introduces you to the Sand Snakes, Oberyn's countless daughters. Their reactions vary and some are more welcoming than others but all are accepting of their father's decision to take you as a serious lover.

While eager to show you his home, Oberyn first gets you acquainted with your new bedroom and the bed. Oberyn is a versatile lover, although he enjoys being the one in control most times depending on his mood. You can expect to spend a lot of time in bed with Oberyn, and sometimes even with Ellaria. Oberyn is a giver and he'll often have you pinned beneath him until you can take no longer before peppering you with kisses and cooing gentle words in your ear. 

Oberyn is a thoughtful and dutiful lover who ensures you'll never feel left behind or cast away. However, you must be fine with sharing him with others, and even if you find this difficult at times, Ellaria will provide soothing words of advice and comfort. Oberyn will ensure to push away any worries or insecurities and he'll even encourage you to seek out your own lovers, just as long as you always return to him. 

If you are a lady, you can surely expect to fall with child soon after arriving in Dorne. Ellaria, who basically becomes your sister, tends to you and helps you through the process of pregnancy and labor. Oberyn will grow protective during this time and you'll often find him resting his hand over the bump or speaking to it. He'll ensure you are being treated with the utmost care and by the very best. Whether son or daughter, Oberyn will love his child, and the Sand Snakes will be incredibly protective of their newest sibling. 

Oberyn is one of those lovers that still courts you well into the relationship. He continues providing gifts and trying to make you swoon all over just because he feels like it. Getting with Oberyn means having a thoughtful, open-minded lover, a kind sister, and countless deadly stepdaughters willing to fight in your honor if they have to. 

[sanarsi]

Kinktober Day 3

Monsterfucking

monster!Oberyn Martell x f!Reader

Gif credits @pedrorascal

Summary: Your poison lessons with Oberyn went wrong when he accidentally drank the wrong potion. Warnings: +18, MDNI, monster fucking, unprotected PIV, dubcon, rough sex, dirty talk, possessed!Oberyn, insults Wordcount: 1,1k An: Oh god… this is my first time writing something like this. I have no idea if i even managed to portray the monster fucking well (just kill me ok). Today I just wanted to thank the people who read all my works on an ongoing basis (I see u @amyispxnk) and let you know that, YES, I see all the comments and reblogs, BUT I'm busy gettin ready for vacation, so I don't even have time to go on tumblr. I promise I'll answer everything when I'm at home, under the covers and with a warm cup of tea. So lots of kisses and hugs to the people who comment on my works. I love you xx

Masterlist and Kinktober Masterlist

You were prepared for a lot in life, meticulously improved your skills in every field.

History, magic and... potions.

Thanks to your skills, you were given the honor of personal lessons with the Prince of Dorne. In the old, dirty and forgotten basements of the castle, where there were only you, old books and thousands of glass vials filled with deadly substances.

When you look at it from a third-person perspective, it sounded like a guaranteed tragedy. And that's exactly what it was.

After a few hours, tiredness took over your senses, which in the circumstances you were in, was simply unacceptable.

No one in their right mind would continue such dangerous activities, feeling even the slightest dizziness from the lack of fresh air and sun. And yet, you two forgot yourselves, too caught up in your studies and how much fun you were having.

Because, it had to be admitted, there had been unspoken words between you for a long time and you took advantage of every moment together.

This is what led you to the situation you find yourself in.

Tragedy.

Even the two of you, some of the best scholars in the kingdom, couldn't have predicted that someone had mislabeled the vials. Such a small mistake had large and terrible consequences. And you became the only witness who, unfortunately for you, experienced the effects of a potion of unknown origin on your skin.

On your skin, or rather, in you.

“Stay still.” Another loud growl bounced off the walls.

You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back a tearful moan. His body pressed you hard against the table as he tried to push deeper into you. Your body, however, was not used to such sudden and hard penetration.

You were shaking, trying to get used to the size of his cock, which had plunged into you just as unexpectedly as this whole situation had started.

You couldn't even fully process what was happening. His eyes went black in a split second, casting a terrifying darkness within him. A darkness that turned him into a mindless beast that longed to sink its teeth into the closest living creature - you.

“Why do you have to be so tight,” he gasped against your ear and thrust his hips hard again, pushing deeper into you. “I want all of you.”

Your pussy was throbbing with pain and wild pleasure you had never known before. And even though the prince wasn't himself right now, this was what you had dreamed of since the day you met him; for him to sink into you and make you forget about everything.

You moaned loudly, gripping the edges of the table tighter as it creaked with every movement. Your eyes misted over each time his tip dug into your cervix.

“Oberyn, please,” you sobbed.

You received a raspy laugh in response that didn’t sound like him at all.

“Pathetic little girl, you really think your prince is with us now?”

You shivered at the sound of his voice, strangely distant and deep.

He dug his fingers deeper into your hips, finally pushing himself all the way inside you. An animalistic groan escaped his throat as he could feel how wet and tight you were all over his cock, clenching around him over and over again.

You barely had time to catch your breath as his hot breath fanned your neck and another dark laugh reached your ears.

“So what are you?”

Your question hung unanswered as he busied himself with inhaling your scent and licking your skin. You were overwhelmed by the closeness he was taking over you, everywhere, on every side. There was only him.

“I am everything he wants to be.”

He slowly pulled his hips back, allowing you to feel every inch of his manhood. You shivered, desire to have him inside of you again overwhelm your senses.

He didn't let your dreams wait long to come true.

He thrust into you, the force making both of you shudder. The feeling of bliss was so great that it took over him almost immediately as his hips slammed against yours.

Without thinking, he began to fuck you. Hard. Not allowing you to think. All you could focus on was how the pleasure and pain mingled into an addictive feeling that was building in your core.

“Do you know how long he’s wanted to feel your cunt?” he asked, breathing heavily from the pace he set for himself. “Gods, how could he hold back for so long?”

He shook his head in disbelief, a wild glint passing through his black eyes as he stared at your pathetic form, moaning in adoration. He thrust into you harder, making you cry out. A pleased smirk appeared on his face before he leaned in close to you again.

“I’ve had you for a few minutes and already want to keep you.” His breath fanned your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Forever sinking into your wet, warm flesh,” he purred.

“Yes, please,” you gasped, overwhelmed by how good it felt to have him inside you, against you, on you. He was pleased with how drunk you were.

“Give me your orgasm, little mortal.”

His cock stimulated everything it needed, to bring you closer to your desired fulfillment. You had no idea if it was because of the demon that had taken control of him, or the fact that it was in his body and you could finally feel what it was like to have him inside you.

Oberyn thrust into you recklessly, as if that was all he was made for. Your increasingly loud moans only fueled him. He wanted more. More of you, your heavenly core, and your animalistic sounds.

“Show me what pleasure I give you,” he whispered, running his nose along your neck, where he sank his teeth a moment later.

He did it so hard, that the piercing pain went straight between your legs, and the orgasm shook your body. You screamed in euphoria, pulsating on him so hard that he had to pull out of you so he wouldn't come.

“I love the orgasms of sluts like you,” he laughed mockingly, and when he let you experience your fulfillment, he thrust into you again.

You sobbed, overwhelmed by the intense feelings you had just experienced. The shadow of your coming still wandered over your body when he started fucking you again.

“Oh yes, even wetter and more sensitive,” he said with satisfaction as he listened to your helpless moans. “Don't worry, we're just gettin’ started.”

Tags: @mattmurdocksdumpy @milly-louise @rosi3ba3z @candlelover @gothcsz @tateypots @chloe302225 @natalieispunk @amyispxnk @mandoloriancookie @libre-sol @alex-does-art-things @xxchumanixx @ch3rryyyyyyyyyy @bbyanarchist @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 and @iamasaddie bc I know u love oberyn