#oberyn x f!reader

[almostempty]

What’s Love Got to Do with It

(oberyn x f!reader)  wc: 4.6k | other fics 

note: hey y’all it’s me ya gurl, here to defile another prompt with a silly idea <3 Sooo, from the three brain cells that brought you fuckboy!joel and divorced dad rock dilf!joel 🫡i now humbly present …. Frat bro Oberyn, Aka The Red Viper, aka the Prince of Pong, aka the Slut of Delta Psi (i did steal the frat name from the film Neighbors—in which they do sing a line from Creed in their frat chant, so in some twisted way, they’re kind of all connected right??) 

I fear this may have just been funny to me so feel free to skip, but thank you to everyone who tolerates my shenanigans <3. 

ANYWAY, The lovely @baronessvonglitter bestowed upon me Oberyn x What’s Love Got to Do with It for fucktober (happy belated bday babe) but naturally, i made it weird. Thanks to @sunshinehaze1 for reminding me that modern AUs exist when I got scared of the GOT universe and to @auterdelabre for reminding me that the answer is always fuckboy. Don’t blame them for anything else.

Summary: You attend a fraternity toga party, and you catch the eye of Delta Psi’s notorious Red Viper. He shows you how he got the nickname and then he shows you something else he’s known for. 

tags/warnings: explicit 18+ smut, alcohol/partying, gratuitous flirting, piv, fuckboy behavior aka on to the next one, infidelity, i couldn’t bring myself to write his dialogue in frat bro™ –aka i didn’t fully commit to the bit bc that man just had to be smooth and had to fuck no matter what universe i put him in, apologies if that ruins your immersion in my pwp, per usual: no y/n, f!reader is able bodied otherwise no specifics, unprotected piv as if it’s no biggie because it’s fiction (don’t do that irl), no beta/limited proofreading sorry for all mistakes 

“Oh my god, that’s him!” Your best friend shouts into your ear as you walk down the sidewalk. You blend into the sea of toga-clad college kids, sandals slapping against the pavement. Liv leans on you, pointing out the guy she’s talking about. You can hear the music pouring out into the street and people inside yelling and chanting over someone doing a keg stand or something equally as exciting and alcohol-related, you assume. 

The guy she pointed out is leaning casually against the banister, letting some ripped blond dude entertain him on the porch. “That’s the guy your roommate was talking about?” you question your friend. Liv agrees with a smile as you walk towards the front steps. 

Everyone else on the porch looks like a frat bro wrapped in a wrinkly bedsheet, but for some reason, he seems almost godlike. He’s luminous under the warm lights. As if he knew you were checking him out, he turns his head just as you walk past, and his eyes sweep over you, making your face hot. Something sparks between you before he turns away, taking a swig of his drink. 

Liv had given you a rundown on what to expect at your first Delta Psi party. You had argued that you knew what college parties were like. You transferred this quarter as a senior, and you just didn’t have Greek life at your other school or your best friend to convince you to go out. But now, you’re here, dressed up and entering a party that really does feel a little more intense than the ones back at your small-town university. 

Liv’s roommate had given you the rundown on the guys she knew in the fraternity, but you didn’t pay much attention to her descriptions. You figured there was no way a Brad, Dylan, Connor, or a Brent would actually be hot. And then, when she started with the ones with nicknames, you completely checked out after Viper and Rooster. It has to defy the laws of nature for a frat bro that goes by Rooster to be able to find your clit—even if he IS hot. 

Yet, now you realize you might be eating your words because you get it. You were too quick to judge, whoops. “Which one was that?” you ask in Liv’s ear as you both make your way through the people sloshing drinks and dancing. 

“Viper!” 

You can’t help the immediate grimace that emerges on your face. “That’s so douchey!” you shout back over the noise before she pulls you down a hall toward that kitchen. She leans in close to your ear, telling you that her roommate swears she got the best head of her life from him. “No fucking way,” you argue. 

“Way,” she smirks back. “He’s got a girlfriend now, though. They’re, like, totally in love, it’s all over social media.” She mocks puking at the idea, and you share a laugh.

You explore the party together. The house is huge; one room on the main floor is blasting EDM, and another is blasting top 40 hits. There are a couple of beer pong tables in the backyard and a detached garage filled with stoners on old couches giggling to themselves. You know that Liv is itching to park her ass on one of those sofas and find a girl or guy to whom she can woo with her French inhale and makeout with for the rest of the night. 

But, she’s a loyal ass bitch who wouldn’t abandon you. You circle back through the house. You spend a little while dancing together and taking your time to see if there’s anyone else who catches your eye. Nobody really sticks out to you in the first room until you catch his eyes again. You have to do a double-take as you circle your waist and roll your body against Liv. 

He’s semi-shrouded in the corner; with the dim lighting and the packed house, it would be easy to miss the two of them altogether. But when the girl clinging to him turns around to grind her ass against him, he locks eyes with you, and you swear that fucker winks at you before a group of girls prance into the room, shouting oh my god, it’s our song! You try to shake it off. You were definitely just seeing things with the lights. 

You signal to Liv, and she follows you into the other room. You dance together a bit longer. She offers you a swig from her rhinestone-encrusted flask, but you turn her down, staying sober tonight. You feel euphoric enough with the strobe lights and the thrumming bass from the EDM remixes blasting in the room. 

You turn down a few wasted white dudes who try to dance up on the two of you. Too drunk. Not your type. Too handsy. You’re not afraid to punch a man in the throat or the nuts if they don’t get the hint, but they back off when you give them a gentle shove and a shake of your head. The most recent suitor is turning and scoping for another girl to approach when you see him again. 

He’s moving towards you, looking right at you, but there’s no girl on his arm–or crotch, now. For some reason, it makes you feel too hot. You’re sweating from the dancing anyway, so you ignore the electric look in his eye that makes your clit twitch and grab Liv’s arm to make a dash for the backyard to get some fresh air. 

You debrief with each other and come to an agreement. You tell Liv to do her thing, urging her to head towards the couch with the skater dude wearing the toga made from a dinosaur patterned sheet and the high-top vans. She agrees to text you if she plans to relocate or wants to leave before you finish taking another lap around the party. 

You sort of lie to her, claiming someone inside caught your eye. They did, but you aren’t planning to do anything about it. Instead, you part ways and head back through the house, past the pledge posing as a bouncer at the front door, and onto the front porch. The music is still loud, but it’s quieter out front. People still trickle in and out of the party. You stare out at the night sky, searching for the moon. In your own little world, you’re basking in your own peace. 

“I haven’t seen you here before,” a rich, velvety voice washes over your shoulder. It should make you jerk away, give you goosebumps, and raise your hackles. But, instead, the interruption stirs liquid heat in your core and makes your nipples hard. Because it’s him. 

You turn your head and confirm. He’s so close to you. 

“You know every girl here?” you challenge him. 

“I know the ladies and gentlemen that pique my curiosity,” his voice is so smooth. He’s a charmer, for sure. He offers you a drink, holding out two plastic cups in one hand. The size of his hand does make you tingly, but his smile falters when you shoot him one of your signature dirty looks. 

Before he can ask about the look, you take one of the cups, give him a cloyingly sweet smile, and pour it out over the railing into the grass below. The tail of his brow quirks, and he gives you a sly smile that widens into a grin and a full-chested laugh. “Oops,” you mock. 

“You’re a bold woman,” he muses, “I like that.” 

He doesn’t back down after you toss out his drink. He doesn’t take it as a rejection. He understands when you explain you don’t take open drinks from strangers at a frat party, but you roll your eyes hard when he gloats about not needing tricks or drugs to find a lover. 

He banters with you as he downs the remaining drink. He’s quick, with sharp wit and a devious smile. You can’t keep your eyes off his exposed chest, his arms, his neck, his eyes. It’s still confusing how he can look so regal, whereas everyone else in the party looks a little…goofy? Cliche? He pulls you back to the present, asking for your name before he gives you his. 

“They call me ‘the Red Viper,’” he gives you a provocative grin like he knows exactly how hot he looks, even with a bedsheet draped over his shoulder. 

You play into his hand, “Is that some kinda of euphemism?” Feeding his ego with a suggestive arch of your brow. Maybe you’re bold, but you don’t think he’s the type to be deterred by a confident woman. In fact, it seems to make him glow even brighter.

His voice lowers, dripping with an enticing challenge, “Are you looking to find out?” he asks. 

His jaw quirks, and you’re mesmerized watching him suck at his lower lip. It looks so perfectly plump and kissable, curling into a smirk as his eyes gleam with mischief. “Come,” he beckons for you to follow him deeper into the party. 

“I thought you had a girlfriend,” you say stiffly, remembering what Liv had said as you walked in. He looks at you curiously before shaking his head lightly. 

“You mean Cora? From earlier? She’s not my girlfriend. We were just dancing.” 

“No,” you shake your head, “I heard it’s all over social media. That you’re loved up.” 

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” he gives you that cocky smile that absolutely shouldn’t work but somehow makes you feel warm like you’re laying on the warm sand on a beach listening to the waves crashing. You don’t say anything else, and he leans in a little closer, “What’s love got to do with it?” he asks huskily. Dangerously. 

It makes you shudder with something warm and twisted. 

“Now,” he guides you gently but firmly, “Come.” You need him to stop saying it like an order before you do. 

You let him walk you through the party. Weaving through the boisterous crowds. They part easily for him, clearing a path like he’s royalty. 

“They call me ‘the Red Viper’ because I’m lethal at any game involving a red Solo cup.” He murmurs it into your ear like it’s a sexy secret. 

You laugh brightly at that, giving him a gentle shove. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard!” 

He gives you a coy shrug. “It’s the truth.” He leads you into the backyard, towards the beer pong tables. “I’ll show you,” he says just for you to hear. The string lights illuminate the yard in soft light; however, the mood is anything but romantic, with the drunk cheering college kids taking their drinking games very seriously. 

You watch, amused, as one team high-fives each other over their trick shot. At another table, both teams heatedly argue about “house rules.” 

“It’s the prince of pong!” one of his fraternity brothers shouts across the lawn. He gives you the most dramatic I told you so glance, and you mouth “lame” back at him. He calls ‘next game,’ and as if he were their lord, one table immediately clears out, forfeiting in a demonstration of fealty. 

“Ladies first,” he offers once he’s set up all the cups to his liking. He’s so arrogant about it, and it shouldn’t turn you on, but it absolutely does. 

You grin across the table at him. “You’re on.” 

He’s merciful at first. You land a few cups, giving you enough confidence to talk shit and tease him. But it rapidly becomes apparent that he’s a man of his word as he easily picks off every cup on your end of the table with precision.  

Despite your rapid descent towards a loss, you eat up his charm. His magnetic energy. He makes the rest of the party disappear when he looks at you. It makes your heart tingle and your pussy flutter. He’s a gracious winner, only gloating a little as he reracks the table and offers it up to other party-goers. 

“Alright, Viper, you won. You can retain your title.” You admit defeat as he slinks up close to you, ushering you along to the side of the house, only a few steps away but more secluded from the rest of the party. 

“And now, will you allow me to claim my prize?” he asks in his smoky, deep voice. 

Despite his clear intentions, you feign confusion as he wraps one wide hand around your waist and tilts your chin towards his face with the other. “I didn’t know we were playing for stakes,” you smile brashly. Your skin blazes under his touch and his seductive gaze as his eyes drop to your mouth. 

He starts to dip towards you, but you swerve away from him. It’s on the tip of your tongue to ask again if he’s in a relationship. He growls softly, almost a purr, next to your ear. “What’s wrong, my lady?” he murmurs. The intimacy of it is heady, and your surroundings fade. 

You want to take whatever he’s offering, no questions, so instead you whisper, “Tell me your real name.”

He sighs softly before giving in and telling you his name. 

“Oberyn,” you repeat back, “that’s unique.” 

He starts muttering about how he’s an international student, but you’ve got all the info you needed. Now you don’t have to add a guy named Viper to your mental list of hookups. 

“I like it,” you cut him off before slotting your mouth against his and making up for ducking out of his last attempt at a kiss with your eagerness. He wraps his arm around you, and you’re transported. One large hand presses against your lower back, urging your hips toward his, and the other cradles your jaw, giving you a sense of stability as he matches your ferocity. 

You briefly wonder if you’d have melted if he wasn’t holding you so tightly before your thoughts are consumed by the sensation of his lips against yours and his tongue running along yours. It’s not a kiss you would’ve expected from a frat guy. It’s romantic and passionate, and you feel your body rolling against his, caught up in the sensation and intensity. 

You keep going, letting yourself enjoy the moment, eating up the flavor of him, the scent of him, and the throbbing intensifying between your legs. You slip one of your hands along the back of his neck into his soft hair, and he groans into your mouth. It makes your knees weak. 

You chase his mouth as he pulls back and looks into your heavy-lidded eyes. Sharing the hot air between you, it feels like a current is looping through your bodies, buzzing with need. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” he urges in a gravelly whisper. You can feel him hardening against you. His hand on your back is firm, keeping you flush, pelvis to pelvis, making you nearly dizzy. However, his hand on your jaw is gentle, brushing his thumb along your cheek sweetly. You still can’t help goading just a little. 

“What for?” you ask playfully. 

“To fuck.” 

It makes your cheeks hot. Maybe there should be red flags popping up in your mind, but you don’t care. He likes a bold woman, and you like a direct man. 

“Unless you’d rather do it in the grass here,” he tilts his head toward the ground. You act like you’re considering the option seriously, making him laugh before he releases you from his arms. “Don’t tease,” he says with a severe look, “It wouldn’t bother me.” 

Me either, you consider before deciding not to say that part aloud. You tell him to take you to a real bed, and he does. Swiftly guiding you into the house and up the stairs, past the pledge guarding the rooms, and into his bedroom. He spins around, pinning you against the door for another searing kiss. It’s more urgent this time. He’s quickly moving to your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your tender skin as you both greedily run your hands along each other’s bodies. 

Before you can get your hands under his toga, he’s detaching from you and sinking to his knees. He moves efficiently, bunching up your toga and asking you to hold it. Then he’s hovering his hot mouth over your mound before kissing you over your lacey panties. 

“Mmm,” he hums into you and traces the crease of your thighs with one hand, following the line until he’s softly running his fingers along the edge of your panties, the tips of his fingers barely dipping beneath the hem as he moves towards your core. You watch, staring down with your mouth parted as he holds your gaze. 

He teases you, running his fingertips along your seam over the soaked fabric, tapping and teasing at your swollen clit through the fabric as he watches your needy expression morph into frustration. You shift, spreading your legs wider, but he stops you with a large hand on each thigh. 

“Hold still,” he orders, and you feel compelled to listen. He pulls your underwear down and off of you, then hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading your cunt open. “That’s better.” 

You can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or to you. You don’t have a chance to ask before he’s burying his face into your soft, wet pussy. Your breath hitches at the sensation and one of your hands flies out to grab at the door frame to steady you, while the other one digs into Oberyn’s hair. 

He’s unbothered by your dramatics. Oberyn moves with enthusiasm, drawing his tongue along your slit and pressing into your sex with his jaw. His facial hair tickles at your tender skin deliciously and his nose grazes over your clit as if his face were molded to maximize your pleasure. He changes his strategy, mouthing at your clit and sweeping his tongue over it like he’s making out with it, with the same passion that he kissed you with outside and a moment ago. 

You can feel it starting to build. Your hip flexors straining and thighs starting to tremble as your breathing gets quicker and more shallow. Closer and closer and closer. He’s perceptive and diligent. Repeating the same tricks that make you moan and dig your fingers into his hair. 

You’re stuck on the precipice, so close but not quite there. Your eyes roam around the dimly lit room, the bed, the bookshelf, the tapestry pinned to the wall, the collection of cologne bottles lined up on the desk, the mirror on top of the desk–pointing right at the bed. 

It starts to frustrate you. Not the decor choices, but the tension and the building pressure. You squirm slightly, hoping the smallest adjustment will somehow bring everything into a sharper focus. You let your eyes close, letting the roar of the party downstairs fade, focusing on the pressure and warmth of Oberyn’s mouth. 

More, more, more. 

It’s all you can think as Oberyn stays dedicated to getting you off on his tongue. He sucks firmly at your clit before releasing you with a slick sound. He hovers, mouth fanning warm air over your core looking up at you. His eyes are lit with hunger.  

“More?” he asks in his deep, rich voice. 

You can’t tell if you were chanting out loud or if he’s somehow reading your mind. “Please,” you respond with a needy edge, “more.” You catch the sparkle in his eye and the flash of a grin. He works you up again, towards the brink, relishing in your responses as you whine with need as he resumes holding you in a purgatory of pleasure.

Mercifully, he does give you more. Oberyn grips your thigh with one hand, steadying you, while he swipes two fingers along the length of your pussy once, twice, coating them in your arousal before plunging them inside of you. The increased pressure and friction from his fingers pumping into you causes you to moan. It’s a lower register than your breathy panting from earlier, layered with satisfaction as you can feel the anticipation starting to crest. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg, “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t stop, groaning at your words, rumbling against you. That snaps the tension and you cry out his name and a string of curses as your orgasm hits. He doesn’t slow down when your cunt contracts around his fingers and he doesn’t lose focus when you shake and writhe against mouth. Not until you’re pulling him off of you, oversensitive and wrung out.  

Oberyn stands, wiping at his chin before pulling you in close for another breathtaking kiss. He walks you back toward the bed and you fall into it, pulling him with you. You tangle together, frantically, you want him inside of you now. He laughs softly against your hot neck, sensing your frustration. 

“Shh,” he murmurs as you huff with defeat. He moves deftly, braced over you with one arm, and freeing his cock with the other. Your hands stroke up and down his shoulders and back, and you hook one leg around his hip, encouraging him. “You want me to fuck you now?” he asks and you whisper a yes that turns into a gasp as he runs his tip through your soaked center. “And how do you want it?”

“Hard.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, sinking into you deeper and deeper, and pulling back, all the way out, then all the way in. “Fuck,” he says to himself as he sets a quick pace, slaming his hips into yours making the bedframe creak with every thrust. If the noise from the party didn’t drown everything else out, you might be embarrassed to have strangers over hear, but you would be surprised if anyone could hear a thing. And, even if you were louder than the party, you could care less about being caught as Oberyn fucks you into the mattress. 

“Harder,” you goad him, hoping for more. To your horror he pulls out of you completely, but you swiftly find yourself flipped onto your stomach as he lifts your hips and enters you from behind. You press back, meeting his thrusts, bouncing off of his hips until he presses his palm between your shoulder blades. He forces your chest into the mattress, holding you still so he can fuck you like he means it, with enough force that all you can do brace yourself and ball your fists, twisting the bedding between your fingers. 

With your cheek against the bed you can watch your reflection in the mirror. It’s hot, even with your togas draped and bunched up, you look good together. It makes you grin. He catches you looking and turns, meeting your eyes in the mirror before watching your bodies. He grips your hips firmly and you can barely keep your eyes open to watch as he continues. 

He overwhelms you with his stamina, keeping up a pace that has your mind feeling blissfully fuzzy. He says something else before folding over you and slipping his hand around towards your clit, determined to feel you come around his cock. You’re so close already, it’s only a moment, a few more thrusts, before shuddering beneath him. He tries to fuck you through it, but you clench and constrict around him so tightly that he pulls out while you’re still moaning. 

You can hear the slick wet sounds as he strokes himself, cursing under his breath again, before you feel the warmth as he comes across the swell of your ass and your fluttering cunt. You sink, dropping your hips and relaxing onto the bed while he catches his breath. Oberyn squeezes at your thighs, offering praise you don’t quite hear, then he’s slipping off the bed. He cleans you up with a towel, but you remain still for a little longer, enjoying the satisfaction and the sweet ache from the intensity. 

“Take your time,” he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder. It’s gentle. You murmur a thanks at him before breaking into an airy giggle. It makes your ribcage shake, bouncing slightly on the mattress, realizing that Liv is going to die when you tell her you can confirm her roommates story. Oberyn doesn’t question your reaction. 

He pauses to readjust his toga and his hair in the mirror. Once seemingly satisfied, he turns back towards you, watching you sit up. “I’ll see you out there,” he says with a smile before he slips out of the room. 

You linger for just a little. Allowing yourself the privacy to revel in the sweet satisfaction of the post-sex chemicals flowing through your body. You let yourself grin while you check your phone to see where Liv is at. 

You take another minute, using the mirror to fix your own appearance, aiming for a slightly less obvious version of I just got railed, before meeting your own eyes. For a sobering second you remember you didn’t get a real answer about if he has a girlfriend. He sure as fuck doesn’t act like it, you decide. You shake off the thought. 

He might be a frat bro, he might be a piece of shit, all you know for sure is that he is hot, a good kisser, and he knew how to make you come. Three things you didn’t think you’d find in one guy under this roof. You give yourself a final onceover before heading out of the room and down the stairs. 

You don’t see Oberyn in the first few rooms you pass. You keep looking; he couldn’t have gone far. You’re barely finished that thought when you spot him in the kitchen. The sight makes you stumble, shooting a hand out to the wall to catch your balance. 

He’s leaning casually, with his hip against the counter, as a starry-eyed girl looks up at him, giggling flirtatiously, as she lays a hand along his bicep. 

It’s in slow motion. The way he looks at her hand, the way his eyes trail along her arm, over the curve of her breasts, and down her legs before flitting back to her face with that same sinful smirk you just fell for. 

Your shoulders drop. It’s not like you were planning your wedding or that you even thought a date was on the table—but you didn’t think he’d be on to the next girl before you made it down the stairs. 

You start to recenter yourself, reaching to check your phone again before you look for Liv. 

He sees you before you can mind your business and plan your next move. Catching your eye through the doorway. Before you can formulate a reaction, you’re stuck, held in his gaze. He winks at you again, only this time there’s no question if you were making it up. He winked at you and despite everything, it makes your whole body tingle. 

“I saw that!” Liv shouts into your ear, wrapping an arm around you. “You have to tell me what the fuck that was about. But first can we please get pancakes or cheese fries?”

You don’t bother turning back for a second glance as you follow Liv toward the front door. 

You must understand though the touch of your hand

Makes my pulse react

That it's only the thrill of boy meeting girl

Opposites attract

It's physical

Only logical

You must try to ignore that it means more than that

Oh, oh, oh

What's love got to do, got to do with it?

…..

tags for babes, but no presh:

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy 

[guiltyasdave]

delicate

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: ~3.9k

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

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

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

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You alright, princess?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tastes so sweet, princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I really like you.” 

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

“Is– is it okay that I said that?” 

He hums, his large hand still on your cheek. 

“I think I really like you too.”

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

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 2nd

Day 2: Piercing // Double Penetration // Voyeurism

Oberyn Martell x F!Reader x Marcus Acacius

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.4k

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

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒

ㅤㅤmodern!oberyn martell x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, modern au

word count: 2k

summary: when you accidentally blurt out one of the fantasies that you kept locked up in your head, oberyn is more than eager to oblige to your request.

warnings: piv, anal sex, first time anal, rimming, fingering, lots of lube and praise

a/n: we did a secret santa for our server space sisters and my giftee was @iamasaddie! Happy holidays love! I hope you enjoy this little smutty fic, I definitely enjoyed writing it 🎄🎄🎄

can you guys believe i couldn't find one decent image of a peach being fingered???? a shame really

**stunning divider by the amazing @saradika <333

Everything about Oberyn drives you crazy. 

The way he dresses, the way he smells, the melodic lilt of his voice—every part of him you adore and cherish. You’re undeniably lucky to have this man in your life and not only that but to have him as a partner is something you’re in awe of every single day. He satisfies you like no man ever could. He gives you every bit of himself. His tongue, his fingers. . . it’s almost as if the man was solely created to bring pleasure to you. 

But, despite all of that, you’re still not as open as you wish to be. You can never be as blunt with him as he is with you. He needs to drag your desires out of you. Tease you until you snap and practically shout at him to make you come. Oberyn doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’d said on multiple occasions how much he enjoyed it. 

“Look at you so wet around my cock,” he purrs, the back of his tongue hitting the roof of his mouth roughly on the word cock. Oberyn’s right. You are wet. Soaked even. Every time he rocks you forward you feel the wet fabric of the bedding scraping your outer knee. You moan loudly into the pillows, fluttering around him as he fucks, fucks, and fucks himself deeper into you. 

You’re not sure where you end and he begins. Sex with him is always like this. Mind numbingly beautiful. Satisfying. You feel the warmth of the Christmas lights framing your window kissing your sweaty skin. Your clit throbs. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. 

But just as you’re nearing the edge, Oberyn’s thumb traces the tight rim of your other hole. He slowly pushes in, only a bit, the stretch adds enough pressure for another moan to come tumbling out your lips, your upper body fully falling. Oberyn hums, his hips slowing into a sensual grind. “Does my sweet girl want me to fuck this hole next?” This is something that he teases you about more often than not. He’s never acted on it though. “So fucking tight.” 

He pushes his thumb till the first knuckle and it’s like electricity shooting down your spine. Your entire body jolts, the words leaving your throat before you even realize what you’re saying. 

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes yes yes—please fuck me there—” 

Oberyn stops. 

So does your heart. 

Fuck fuck fuck. That was meant to be a secret. 

“What did you just say?” 

“Nothing!” you answer quickly and high-pitched. “I—I didn’t mean anything by it.” 

Oberyn dips until his lean chest is firmly pressed against the curve of your spine. His lips touch your ear, his breath warm and inviting. The hand that was teasing your hole slips to the side to cup your ass. He kneads the muscle tenderly. 

“Are you sure?” he hums. “Why would you hide this from me?”  

“I. . . wasn’t. . .” 

“Ah, so you admit it is something that you want.” 

You let out an airy chuckle, “I hate when you do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Just trick me into admitting things.” 

“I just asked a question,” he says innocently. It’s a bit hard to focus on his words when he’s cock deep inside of you. “Now, tell me why this is the first time I’m hearing about this.” 

Oberyn drags his lips down to the base of your neck and kisses you, your body melting into the sheets instantly. You’re glad he can’t see your face right now. You don’t think you can admit this while those observant eyes are looking down at you. 

“I’ve never tried it before. And. . . I was nervous to ask about it,” you take a sharp inhale. “I did want to tell you. I just—You’re already so much better at this than I am, I didn’t want to look even more inexperienced.” 

Before you know it Obeyn has you by the shoulders, twisting your body enough so that you’re facing him instead of keeping your head buried in the pillows. You chew on the inside of your cheek. He looks serious. Did you say something wrong? 

“Better at what?” he asks even though he knows the answer. 

“At sex.” 

“Sex is not a competition, and for what it’s worth you are good at it. And I love being your first when it comes to intimacy. You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he starts moving again, the heavy drag of his cock between your legs making your eyes roll. “But, if you are still feeling anxious let me prove to you how much I love being your first—and last.” 

Your lips curl into a small smile, “Last?” 

His smile is sinister. Teeth showing as he dips to your neck, taking a slow, yet sharp, bite. A whimper rattles your throat. “Is it wrong for me to want to humor the idea that I’ll be fucking you somewhere no one has before and that no one else will ever touch you beside me?” Oberyn pulls out, your body immediately aching to be filled again. “Get on all fours.” 

You oblige eagerly. Your arms are shaking as you prop yourself up, the inside of your thighs slick. Oberyn reaches for the nightstand and pulls out the bottle of lube. When he disappears behind you again you expect the cool feel of jel, but instead, you receive his mouth—and tongue. 

“Oh fuck—” 

“Be still,” he growls, gripping your hips. “Let me feast.” 

He swirls his tongue around your asshole, hot saliva dripping right against it. You shudder as he pushes it through, teeth grazing the flesh gingerly. Oberyn parts your cheeks with both hands and pushes the wet muscle deeper. Pleasure rakes your body, your core throbbing with need. You’re close. Just a couple swipes of his tongue and you’re already there, ready to burst. 

He mouths against you and when he deems you wet enough, he slips a finger inside. Your body tenses around him, the sensation foreign but not unwanted. Oberyn’s one hand cups your sex, fingers starting to draw patterns around your throbbing clit while he thrusts the fingers in and out. Moan after moan rips from your throat. The stimulation against your clit loosens you further. He slips another finger. Both knuckle deep as he fucks you with them. 

“That’s it. You’re stunning like this. Beautiful.” 

You fist the sheets, hips sloppily grinding back to meet the fast movement of his fingers. “O–Oberyn please. . .” 

“Oh you think you’re ready?” he chuckles and for some reason, the sound urges a fresh gush of wetness to roll out of you. “Tell me how badly you want me to fuck this sweet ass and maybe. . .” he groans. “Maybe I’ll give you what you want.” 

Your breath catches in your throat, “Please fuck me with your big cock Oberyn—I need it—Need you—” 

He hums and something about the way he moves makes you think he’s not satisfied with your begging. And here you thought you’ve been doing a good job. He pulls away both hands and drags them up your back, cupping your shoulders. You’re in near tears when his cock spreads your folds and grazes against your clit. “You want me to fuck you here?” 

Oberyn’s a cruel, cruel man. 

“N—No,” you whimper, shaking your head. “Not. . . not there.” 

“Where then?” 

“My. . .” Damn it, your voice is trembling. “My ass.” 

You say it silently, barely above a whisper. He hisses through clenched teeth, pulls back his hips, and snaps forward, fucking your thighs instead of where you really need him. “Louder,” he commands. 

“Fuck me in the ass—” you practically shout. “Please please please fuck me in the ass—I want to feel you—Been wanting it for so long.” 

You sigh happily at the feeling of a generous amount of lube being poured down from the bottle and directly onto your hole. Oberyn pours some into his palm, jerking himself until he’s fully coated in lube. The bulbous head of his cock teases your hole, your back arches for him, urging him to go on. 

He fills you inch by glorious inch. The sounds he’s making behind you are downright sinful—your body reacts to his sweet moans, your name falling from his lips. You feel so full. Once again your upper body falls to the sheets, your poor arms too weak to support yourself any longer. Oberyn keeps your ass up in the air, still pushing his cock deeper. 

“So big,” you slur, your body feeling aflame. 

“Just a little more. You’re taking me so well, such a good girl.” 

Your body jerks as he buries himself a bit deeper, has he always been this thick? “Say that again. Tell me how good I am, please.” 

Oberyn blankets your shuddering body, holding himself still, he begins to whisper in your ear, “So good. You’re always my good girl, even when you do keep secrets from me. You’re the perfect glove for my cock. I am going to fuck you so good that your inside will be the shape of me.” 

Just as you get wetter and wetter at his words, Oberyn fills you to the brim. You choke around nothing, every nerve thrumming with pleasure. Your body squeezes him tight and when you finally loosen a bit, Oberyn groans. 

“Can I move?” 

“Please.” 

He squeezes your hips as he pulls out, the heavy press of his cock making you see stars. Then before you can gather yourself he’s pounding into you, stretching you to your limits. There’s a hum in your ears and vaguely you can hear him moaning your name. Your mouth floods with saliva, his teeth sinking into where your neck connects with your shoulder.  

Desperately you reach back and take a hold of his wrist. Your touch only spurs him on, hips deliciously moving in and out. The sound of skin slapping against skin becomes louder and louder. 

“Oh god,” you moan, your fingers tightening around his wrist. “I’m gonna come.”

“Can you come like this?” He asks genuinely. “With my cock in your ass?” 

You don’t think you can actually. Your close. So very close that you can taste your orgasm on your tongue, but you just need a bit more, just a little touch—

“Do not—“ Your hand stills, you weren’t even aware that you’d begun to move your arm to stroke your clit. “Tell me. Tell me why you want and I’ll give you fucking everything.”

“I—I need you to touch me.” 

Oberyn doesn’t make you say it twice. He’s stroking your clit with fast strokes, his hips in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. Hear licks you from the inside out and the pressure between your legs builds, builds and builds until you can’t take it anymore. 

It happens all at once, your body shatters into a million pieces as you shudder around him, his cock splitting you open over and over. Between your moans you can hear him groaning your name, telling you how good you are, how perfect. 

You feel the rush of wetness running down your thighs and Oberyn’s fingers that were so deftly circling your clit moves to your hip, squeezing the flesh. 

“That’s my sweet girl, coming so pretty with my cock in her ass—I’m going to come, fill you until you’re dripping—“ 

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Your entire body clenches, hugging his cock tight. Oberyn comes with a shattered breath and shallow thrusts, he pushes forward, balls deep. Another orgasm washes over you, your body thrumming with pleasure.

“Fuck—“ he rasps, slowly easing himself out. A shiver crawls up your spine as come slips down between your cheeks and down your thighs. He kisses the skin between your shoulders. “You look so good like this. So full of come.” 

“Wish I could see,” you hum. 

“Next time I will bring a camera.” He collects himself on his fingers and slips them inside of you, a moan deserts your lips. “Or perhaps I should fuck you again.” 

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again. 

“Do not ever hide anything from me again. Promise me.” 

“I promise.” 

[theetherealbloom]

PEDRO PASCAL MAIN MASTERLIST

PEDRO PASCAL

JOEL MILLER

DIN DJARIN

OBERYN MARTELL

MARCUS ACACIUS

REED RICHARDS/ "MR FANTASTIC" (coming soon!)

TIM ROCKFORD

© etherealbloom - all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost, or translate any of my original work. none of my work is permitted to be reposted on any other platform.

[andy-15-07]

The Soulmate Connection

Pairing: Pedro Pascal!characters x female reader

Word Count: 4525 | requests are open! (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Ancient Rome (Marcus Acacius)

The sun burned over the Colosseum, its relentless rays glinting off bronze armor and sweat-slicked skin. General Marcus Acacius strode through the chaos of the training grounds, his presence commanding respect and silence. Soldiers moved aside instinctively, their chatter dying down as his sharp gaze swept across the field. Each step he took echoed with authority, his crimson cape trailing behind him like spilled wine on the sands of war.

In the corner of the grounds, Y/N knelt beside a young recruit who had taken a nasty fall during drills. Her hands moved with practiced ease, pressing a damp cloth to the boy’s forehead and inspecting the gash above his brow. The faint scent of medicinal herbs clung to her like a second skin, an aroma Marcus had come to associate with the healer who had become an unspoken presence in his camp. As she worked, her brow furrowed in concentration, stray tendrils of hair slipping free from her braid to frame her face.

“You’ve been busy,” Marcus observed as he approached, his voice low but carrying authority. The young recruit stiffened and attempted to sit up, but Marcus waved him off with a quick motion. “Stay still. Let her finish.”

“And you’ve been reckless,” Y/N replied without looking up, her tone as sharp as the scalpel she carried in her kit. She tied off the bandage with a practiced flick of her wrist and finally met his gaze, her eyes steady and unflinching. “Your men need rest, not endless drills.”

A rare smirk tugged at Marcus’s lips, the expression softening his otherwise stoic features. “A healer with a sharp tongue. I’ll remember that.”

“You’d do well to listen,” she countered, rising to her feet. Though he towered over her, she refused to be intimidated, standing her ground with a quiet confidence that intrigued him. “They’re not machines, General. Push them too hard, and you’ll break them.”

“They’ll endure,” Marcus said, though his tone lacked its usual certainty. “They have to.”

Their exchanges became a regular occurrence in the days that followed. Marcus would find excuses to visit the infirmary, his inquiries about the health of his soldiers gradually giving way to questions about Y/N herself. He learned that she was the daughter of a merchant, her life upended by a raid that had left her orphaned and destitute. She had joined the army’s retinue out of necessity, trading her skills as a healer for protection and a sense of purpose.

“I’ve seen enough death to last a lifetime,” she admitted one evening as they sat by the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows across her face. “If I can save even one life, it feels... worth it.”

Marcus listened in silence, his own thoughts a whirlwind of conflict. He had spent his life taking lives in the name of Rome, his hands stained with the blood of countless enemies. Yet, in Y/N’s presence, he found himself yearning for something he couldn’t quite name—a sense of peace that had always eluded him.

Their bond deepened with each passing day, their connection forged in moments both grand and mundane. Marcus would seek her out during the quiet hours of the night, their conversations ranging from the stars that glittered above to the burdens they carried in their hearts. He found solace in her sharp wit and unwavering compassion, and she, in turn, was drawn to the depth of his resolve and the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.

But fate, as it always did, intervened. Rumors of a plot against the empire reached Marcus’s ears, forcing him to leave for a dangerous campaign in the northern provinces. The night before his departure, he found Y/N in the infirmary, her hands busy mixing a salve for a soldier’s burn.

“You’re leaving,” she said without looking up, her voice tight with emotion.

“I have no choice,” Marcus replied, his tone heavy. “Rome comes first.”

Y/N set down the mortar and pestle, turning to face him. “And what of the promises you made? The future we spoke of?”

“I will return,” he said, stepping closer. “If the gods are kind.”

“The gods are fickle,” she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Marcus.”

He reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek. “I swear to you, I will come back. No matter what it takes.”

Their lips met in a kiss that spoke of all the words they couldn’t say, a desperate attempt to hold onto something that was slipping through their fingers. When Marcus rode out the next morning, the memory of her touch lingered like a brand on his soul.

Weeks turned into months, and the letters from Marcus grew sporadic before ceasing altogether. News of his death reached the camp in the form of a weary messenger, his words a dagger to Y/N’s heart. She retreated into herself, her grief a silent storm that left her hollow and aching. Yet, even in the depths of her despair, she clung to the hope that their story wasn’t truly over.

Late at night, she would sit by the fire, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if willing Marcus to return. She whispered his name like a prayer, her voice carried by the wind to places unknown. And though the world moved on, a part of her remained anchored to the memory of the man who had promised to find her—if not in this life, then in the next.

Medieval Dorne (Oberyn Martell)

The sun was merciless in Dorne, its rays caressing the sands like a lover, burning hot and relentless. Oberyn Martell reclined lazily in the shaded alcove of his family’s palace, a cup of Dornish red wine balanced in his hand. The languid heat made time feel suspended, yet Oberyn himself was always a restless force—a man who thrived on movement, passion, and the art of indulgence.

It was in this heat that Y/N arrived at Sunspear, her caravan dust-streaked and weary from weeks of travel. She was a healer by trade, summoned by Doran Martell to aid in the care of the sick and injured in the city’s outskirts. Word of her skills had reached even the ruling family, and Doran, pragmatic as always, saw the value in employing someone of her expertise.

Oberyn first saw her in the palace gardens, where she tended to one of the servants who had taken ill from the heat. Her hands moved deftly, her touch gentle but firm. She was not like the noblewomen who adorned the court, their beauty polished and distant. Y/N was raw and real, her hair tied back to keep the sweat from her brow, her clothes practical rather than ornate. Yet there was something about her—an energy, a quiet strength—that caught Oberyn’s attention.

“Do you always work so hard, or is this just for show?” he asked, his voice smooth and teasing as he approached.

Y/N didn’t look up, her focus remaining on her patient. “Do you always interrupt people who are busy saving lives, or is this just for fun?”

A laugh escaped Oberyn’s lips, rich and genuine. “I like you already,” he said, settling himself on a low wall nearby. “You’re different. I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a dangerous one.”

“I’d say the same about you,” she retorted, finally meeting his gaze. Her eyes were sharp, unyielding, and Oberyn found himself grinning like a boy caught in a prank.

From that moment on, Oberyn made it his mission to get to know her. He found excuses to visit the infirmary where she worked, bringing with him fresh fruit, wine, and an endless stream of stories. Y/N, initially wary of his charm, soon found herself disarmed by his wit and the surprising depth of his intellect. He spoke of love and loss, of battles fought and lovers mourned, and she saw beneath the surface of the infamous Red Viper—the man who lived as if every day might be his last.

“You hide your pain well,” she remarked one evening as they walked through the gardens, the scent of jasmine heavy in the air.

Oberyn shrugged, his expression unreadable. “We all have scars, Y/N. Some are just easier to conceal.”

“And some fester if you don’t tend to them,” she replied, her gaze steady.

Oberyn stopped, turning to face her fully. “And what of your scars, healer? Do you tend to those?”

Her breath caught, the weight of his question pressing against her chest. “I try,” she said softly. “But some wounds... they never truly heal.”

Their connection deepened as the days turned into weeks, their conversations a dance of words that left them both breathless. Oberyn was captivated by Y/N’s strength and resilience, while she found herself drawn to the passion and vulnerability he so carefully hid beneath his bravado. They were two souls marked by the weight of their pasts, finding solace in each other’s presence.

But Dorne was a land of intrigue, and Oberyn’s life was a web of alliances and rivalries. When a plot against the Martell family came to light, Y/N found herself caught in the crossfire. She was abducted by a group of mercenaries hired to destabilize Doran’s rule, their goal to use her as leverage against the family.

When Oberyn learned of her capture, his fury was like a storm unleashed. He rode out with a small band of loyal fighters, tracking the mercenaries to a secluded hideout in the mountains. The rescue was swift and brutal, Oberyn’s spear cutting through his enemies with deadly precision. When he finally found Y/N, bound and battered but alive, his relief was palpable.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, his voice raw as he knelt before her, his hands gently untying the ropes that held her. “I can’t—won’t—lose you.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “You’re not rid of me that easily, Martell.”

In the aftermath of her rescue, their bond only grew stronger. But Oberyn was a man who lived on the edge, and Y/N knew that their time together was fleeting. When he left for King’s Landing to champion Tyrion Lannister, she begged him not to go.

“There’s no justice there, Oberyn,” she pleaded. “Only death.”

“I cannot run from this,” he replied, cupping her face in his hands. “You know that as well as I do.”

“And what am I supposed to do if you don’t return?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“You’ll live,” he said softly. “You’ll live, and you’ll remember me. And one day, we’ll find each other again. In this life or the next.”

When news of his death reached her, Y/N felt as though the world had been torn asunder. But even in her grief, she held onto his words, believing that their story was far from over.

1980s Colombia (Javier Peña)

The humid air of Bogotá felt thick, stifling even in the late hours of the evening. Javier Peña leaned against his desk, eyes scanning the reports that covered the table. The war on drugs was a relentless force, but even the ever-present threat of violence couldn't quite quell the worry gnawing at him. Y/N had been sick for weeks now, and though she assured him time and time again that it was nothing serious, Javier could see the signs—pale skin, hollow eyes, and a cough that wouldn't quit.

Their first meeting had been purely professional. Y/N was a healer who had come to the city to assist with the growing number of injured due to the escalating cartel violence. Javier had been struck by how different she was from everyone around him: calm in the midst of chaos, capable of soothing pain in the way words never could. He had found excuses to stop by the clinic where she worked, asking for updates on the injured, only to leave with far more than he had bargained for. Over time, those visits became personal, the line between work and something deeper blurring in ways neither of them had expected.

Tonight, however, was different. Her condition had worsened, and he had asked her to meet him, hoping she would finally admit the extent of it. The door to the small apartment creaked open, and Y/N stepped inside, her presence as magnetic as always, despite the illness that weighed her down.

"You look like you've been working yourself to the bone," he said, his voice a mix of concern and frustration. "You should be resting."

Y/N gave him a half-hearted smile as she set down her bag. "I told you, it's nothing. Just a little fever."

Javier didn’t buy it, but he didn't push either. Instead, he reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this, Y/N. This fight, this constant danger, it's not the only thing on my mind anymore."

Her gaze softened, and she sat down beside him. "Javi, I knew who you were when I met you. The risks, the danger, they come with the job. But you're not alone in this."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their unspoken connection filling the space between them. But as the night wore on, the reality of Y/N’s condition became more apparent. When she tried to stand, her legs buckled beneath her, and Javier caught her, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Y/N..." His voice cracked, a rare break in his otherwise composed demeanor.

"I'm sorry, Javier," she whispered, her voice faint. "I didn’t want you to worry."

"You don’t have to do this alone," he insisted, holding her close. "You’ve been a part of this fight with me from the beginning, and I’m not going anywhere."

But as much as he wanted to believe those words, Javier knew the truth. The doctors had warned him that the illness Y/N was fighting was too far advanced, that there were no more options. And now, as he held her in his arms, it felt as though the clock was ticking down on the time they had left.

In the days that followed, Javier found himself in a battle not against cartels, but against time itself. He spent every possible moment with her, trying to keep her spirits up as her health deteriorated. The clinic was full of wounded bodies, but it was Y/N’s fragile one that haunted him.

"Promise me something," she whispered one night, her voice barely audible. "If I don't make it... don’t let this break you. You have to keep fighting."

Javier’s breath hitched in his throat, but he nodded. "I promise, Y/N. I’ll carry you with me, always."

Her hand reached up to touch his face, her fingers cool against his skin. "In another life, maybe we could have had more time."

Javier felt his chest tighten. "In another life," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion.

The night Y/N passed, the city outside seemed quieter than usual, as though even the world itself was mourning her loss. Javier sat by her side, his hand clasped in hers, as the light slowly left her eyes. And in that moment, he promised her, just as he had when they first met, that no matter what, he would carry her memory with him—for in this life or the next, they would find each other again.

Post-apocalyptic America (Joel Miller)

The world outside the small cabin was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that spoke of impending doom. Dust settled in the corners, and the dim light filtered in through broken windows, casting long shadows on the cracked floor. Joel and Y/N sat on opposite sides of a weathered table, their bodies worn and their minds racing, as the unmistakable symptoms of the infection began to creep over them.

They had known it was inevitable. The bite marks on their arms had not been deep, but the fever, the dizziness, the way their bodies felt foreign as the infection spread—it was all too familiar. Joel had seen it happen before to others, and he knew the pattern. There would be no cure. No miracle. They weren’t going to make it.

Y/N’s face was pale, her breath ragged, and her eyes carried the weight of a decision neither of them wanted to make. Joel’s own body was betraying him, the strength he’d fought so hard to keep fading with each passing second.

“We can’t let it happen,” she whispered, her voice raw, hoarse. She met his eyes, the unspoken truth between them louder than words. “We’ve seen what happens, Joel. You’ve seen it. The infected—what they become.”

Joel gripped the edge of the table, his hand trembling as he tried to steady himself. He didn’t need to say anything. They both knew. The terrifying thing about the infected was not just the physical change, but the loss of self—of humanity. They would lose who they were. The memories, the connection—they’d all fade away until nothing remained but a mindless, flesh-hungry creature.

“No,” he said quietly, his voice cracking. “We can’t... we can’t let that happen to us. Not like that. Not after everything.”

The weight of that final decision hung between them, suffocating. Joel had never been a man for big speeches or long moments of reflection. He had done what he had to do, lived how he had to live, always in the moment. But now, facing the end, he found himself wanting more time. Time to hold her, to savor what little they had left.

Y/N stood slowly, the weakness in her limbs a stark reminder of how close the end was. She moved across the room, her feet unsteady, and pulled a knife from her pack. The blade was dull, but it was sharp enough for what they needed. It wasn’t about speed—it was about choice.

“You understand what this means, right?” she asked, her voice low and steady as she placed the knife on the table. “We end it. We take control, before the infection takes us.”

Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, but there was no hesitation in his response. He nodded. “Yeah. We end it on our terms, Y/N. No turning into them.”

The room felt colder now, the silence louder than ever before, as they both stood there, each knowing what the other had already decided. There was no more running, no more hope left to grasp at. The world they had fought for was gone. The people they had loved were gone. And now, it was just the two of them.

Y/N’s hand trembled as she picked up the knife. She took a deep breath, and in that moment, everything that had led to this final choice—the losses, the betrayals, the sacrifices—flashed before her eyes. But through it all, one constant had remained: Joel. Her partner. Her equal. Her everything in this broken world.

“We go together,” she said, her voice breaking.

Joel stepped closer, his face drawn in grief, but his eyes steady. He was a man who had lived a lifetime in fear, in loss, but now, with Y/N beside him, there was no more fear. There was only this—this moment of agency, this moment of defiance against a fate neither of them had wanted.

He took her hand, his fingers cold but still strong. “Together.”

There was no more time to waste on words. Without another glance, they moved, placing the blade against their skin, ready to take the decision that had haunted them both for so long. Y/N’s eyes closed, her grip tightening on Joel’s hand, and they both exhaled one final time, hearts pounding, blood rushing through their veins.

The pain was brief, sharp. The darkness came quickly.

Ordinary World (Pedro Pascal & Y/N)

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the bustling city streets. The world around them was alive with motion—people hurried along, cars rumbled by, the distant hum of conversations blended with the soft rhythm of the urban landscape. Yet, in that moment, nothing felt more real than the quiet, unspoken bond between Pedro and Y/N.

They walked together, side by side, the simple act of moving through the world feeling oddly sacred, as if they were part of something greater than the ordinary life they led. The breeze ruffled their hair, and the weight of the world seemed lighter when their hands brushed lightly, a touch that felt like it belonged in every moment.

Pedro glanced at Y/N, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His gaze lingered, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was there, walking beside him. "Do you ever get the feeling that... we’ve been here before?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, but carrying the weight of a thought he couldn’t shake.

Y/N met his eyes, her heart giving a little flutter as she felt the same sensation. It wasn’t just a fleeting thought, a passing fancy. It was a truth that resonated deep within her chest. "I do," she answered softly, her voice trembling just slightly. "It’s like... it’s like I’ve always known you. Like we’ve known each other for hundreds of years. Maybe even longer. I don’t know why, but it feels so... right."

Pedro stopped walking, his hand instinctively reaching out to hold hers, as if the act itself was the most natural thing in the world. He studied her face intently, as though seeing her for the first time, but also knowing every inch of her. "I don’t know how to explain it," he murmured. "But every time I look at you, I feel like I’ve been waiting for you—waiting for this moment, for this life, for us. It’s like I’m finally where I’m supposed to be."

Y/N squeezed his hand, a gentle, almost protective gesture. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, but it was the kind of shiver that didn’t come from fear—it was a feeling of being home, of being exactly where she needed to be. "I feel it too," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Every lifetime, every moment... I’ve always known it was you. I just... I just never understood how or why. But now... now I do."

They stood there, rooted to the spot, their hands entwined, the world around them continuing as if nothing had changed. But everything had changed. There was an undeniable pull between them—an energy that had been building for lifetimes, for eons, and had finally come to a quiet crescendo in this ordinary, fleeting moment.

"I’ve searched for you," Pedro said, his voice hoarse with an emotion he hadn’t been able to put into words before. "I’ve lived through so much, and I always felt like something was missing. Like I was missing you. But now that I’m here with you... it feels like I’ve found everything I was meant to find."

Y/N’s eyes welled with tears, but they weren’t tears of sorrow—they were the tears of someone who had been lost and had finally found their way home. "I’ve never been afraid of the unknown," she said, her voice steady, though the weight of her words hung heavy in the air. "But for so long, I wondered... where were you? Why couldn’t I find you? And now, it feels like... like I was always supposed to find you. Like this was always the way it was meant to be."

Pedro gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing across her cheek, tracing the path of a tear that had escaped. His eyes softened, the weight of everything they had been through, and everything they still had to face, reflected in his gaze. "I don’t care about the how or the why anymore," he said, his voice fierce with a quiet intensity. "I only care that I’m here. That we’re here, together."

Y/N smiled through her tears, her heart overflowing with a love so deep, so unshakable, that it felt as if the entire universe had conspired to bring them together. "And I’ll always find you," she replied, her voice a soft vow, a promise that had been made long before either of them had ever spoken the words. "In every life, in every world, I’ll find you. You’re not just someone I’ve met—I’ve always known you. And we’ll always be together. Always."

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s presence, the weight of time and eternity pressing upon them in the most beautiful, unspoken way. The city continued to move around them, people rushing by, lives continuing, but for Pedro and Y/N, time had slowed. They had found something far greater than the ordinary world around them. They had found each other—soulmates who had crossed paths through lifetimes, drawn together by a force that could not be explained, but only felt.

Pedro leaned in, his forehead resting gently against hers. "I don’t know what the future holds, but as long as it’s with you, I’m not afraid of it," he whispered.

Y/N closed her eyes, her soul at peace for the first time in her life. "Neither am I," she whispered back, the world around them fading as all that mattered was the connection between them.

In that moment, they were timeless—two souls reunited, destined to walk through this life and every other, always together.

"I know you more deeply than anyone else, in a way that doesn’t make sense."

Y/N squeezed his hand gently, a tear slipping down her cheek despite the warmth of the day. "Maybe we’ve always been waiting for each other," she whispered, the words carrying an unspoken truth neither of them fully understood. "Maybe we’ve crossed paths in every life... just to find each other again in this one."

Pedro’s thumb gently traced circles on the back of her hand, his gaze never leaving hers. "It’s like I’m meant to be with you," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "And it feels like... like we’re not just starting something, but continuing it. As if there’s no beginning or end—only us, always."

Y/N nodded, a quiet sense of peace settling over her. "Maybe we’ve always been soulmates," she murmured, the words slipping out like a prayer. "Just waiting for the right time, the right life, to meet."

They stood there for a long moment, the noise of the city fading away as they held onto that shared truth. The weight of past lives, past connections, and the profound sense of knowing each other was more than just a fleeting feeling—it was their history, their destiny, woven together across time.

And in that moment, surrounded by the hum of an ordinary world, they realized that nothing about their bond was ordinary. The love that had carried them through every incarnation, every twist of fate, was now a living thing between them. Their journey was far from over, but they had found each other again, in this life, in this world—and that was all that mattered.

"We’re not lost anymore," Y/N said softly, her voice filled with a quiet certainty.

Pedro smiled, his heart full. "No," he agreed, squeezing her hand. "We’re home."

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2024 / Day Eleven

THREESOME / SWIMMING / PEGGING (@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction)

Starring: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader x Duke Leto Atreides (Modern AU)

Summary: When Oberyn has guests, you normally find yourself banished to your quarters yet when Duke Leto asks for you too, it’s an offer you can’t refuse.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No use of Y/N, language, sex powder/pollen/drug taking, mentions of drink, fingering, oral - female receiving/male receiving, praising, squirting, P in V, unprotected sex (protection in real life, please, thank you), spit roasting, three-way, MMF, cream pie

Word Count: 4.7k

Notes: Ok, this is a wip that I clearly abandoned and found sitting on my computer, this was definitely started before I saw Dune and before I knew what Spice was 🙈

It wasn’t unusual for Oberyn to you to his quarters late at night, however he never invited you when he had company.

You’d met plenty of aristocrats, royalty, dignitaries and all manner of terminology you’d never heard. It was a simple introduction with the acceptance that he wasn’t yours for the length of their stay.

Never had anyone asked for you specifically.

You considered rejecting the offer of Duke Leto but there was something in the way Oberyn approached you. The glint in his big brown eyes, his lowered volume and a crooked smile that you had seen countless times, things were getting exciting.

“Remember, panties are forbidden.”

There was something in the crude way he described your underwear that got you just a bit wet.

You knocked the door.

No answer.

Oberyn always answered.

You grabbed the handle and pushed your weight to open the door, almost falling into the room. What you saw was mostly bare skin, hands seizing every inch of soft flesh, mussed brown and black hair.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry!”

You turned away, pressing your palms to your face, shoving yourself against the wood as the door slammed shut.

“You’re late.”

Spinning on your heels, you meet Oberyn’s pouted lips, plush and coated in saliva.

“We had to keep ourselves entertained somehow.”

Your inner walls clenched with the authority in his voice, it was rare but when he used it, it truly turned you on. Then you noticed how his and Leto’s eyes were blown, the glimmer that was usually white now a faint hue of blue.

Leto saw your scrunched expression.

“Come here,” he said, gesturing you over with two fingers.

You fleetingly glance to Oberyn, watching his lips curl.

Cautiously, you approach the pair of them, smoothing your palms down your dress as you squeeze yourself between them. The sweat clung to their torsos, their bulges straining beneath the fabric of their underwear.

If you hadn’t walked in when you did, they’d be fucking by now.

Leto leaned over the arm of the sofa and returned with a golden platter.

“What is it?”

“My people call it Spice.”

He dipped his fingertips into the mound of powder, crushing the particles between his thumb and forefinger.

“Completely herbal, no chemicals, all natural.”

“And will make you feel phenomenal.”

You turn to Oberyn, cupping his whiskered jawline in your palm. The smile blossomed on his face, burying the dimples deep within his cheeks.

Except you had seen how drugs affected people, from other students in your years in college to workers in the industry, snorting to keep going. Your stomach twisted with worry but also intrigue, they do always say you should try something once.

“We’ll be here with you, we’ll make sure you don’t have a bad trip.”

Leto wasn’t giddy like the other man, his chest rose slowly, his expression soft in comparison to when you met earlier. He didn’t rush you, gave you time to survey what was in front of you.

“How do I—“

“You just breathe it in.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Taking the platter in your hand, you bring the powder close and take a large inhale. A tingling sensation filled your nostrils before a warmth travelled to your lungs then, disappointingly, nothing.

“Take a couple more.”

You followed Leto’s instruction before he brought a hand back to the platter, taking it away, the gentle clank of it as it comes to the table.

The pair let you catch your breath, the heat emanating from them with their musky stench, Oberyn’s aftershave potent as he leaned in.

“Do you mind if we continue?”

“Not at all,” you haul yourself up from the sofa embarrassedly.

It didn’t take long for him to engulf his other partner, crashing his lips to his in overwhelming desperation.

You make yourself a drink in the corner, pouring golden liquid into a glass with ice and swirl. You take your place in the armchair opposite them, wondering how much time would pass until it hit you like the men you watch longingly. The warmness is still present in your chest and you question whether this is how it all starts.

Leto grabs a fistful of Oberyn’s hair, pulling his face away from his. His eyes roam to you, his expression nonplus.

“You’ll know when it hits.”

His voice was low, a notable gravel in the undertones.

You didn’t know if you believed him, how can you go from the calmness of you to the same feverishness of Oberyn?

Shifting in the chair, you allowed your body to sink deeper into the cushions, holding onto your drink loosely. You might as well make yourself comfortable before the Spice takes you over and with the glint in Leto’s eyes, he was going to make sure you had a good show.

Part of you thought about looking away, watching the television that was on in the background but you couldn’t.

You always saw Oberyn as the instigator, the dominant figure when it came to the bedroom, he was with you anyway, yet here he was different.

After your exchange, Leto used a free hand to rip himself from his underwear. His hard cock swinging from it’s release, slapping under his navel as it snapped from the elastic prison it was confined in.

Your cunt pulsed.

Oberyn swallowed, his throat bobbing as his gaze fell to Leto’s generous length. The other man didn’t allow him long in his admiration before bringing Oberyn’s lips to his tip.

He obliged to Leto’s demands, parting his mouth, gradually taking him in inch by inch. Oberyn had a skill you had let to learn, not even gagging when it was clear as day that Leto’s dick was making it’s way down his throat.

Leto groaned deep from within like a beast that had finally gotten his prey.

He took his grasp off Oberyn and let him do his work, Leto’s head falling back as the other’s moved smoothly up and down, the sloppy sounds of wet friction.

You couldn’t keep track of time in this moment. It felt like you could have been watching them for hours, no end in sight, no let up from either man.

The heat had spread through your body, through your veins in a weirdly comforting way, your eyelids heavy enough to close yet you didn’t fall asleep. You pressed your palms against your exposed skin, a tingling rising to the surface that felt good, really fucking good.

“Nice of you to join us.”

Leto’s dorsal tones snapped you from your dreamlike state.

Opening your eyes, you could see a faint glimmer and it took you a few seconds to realise it was coming from you, otherworldly in its presence. You scramble off the armchair, noticing how the stuff wouldn’t go away, if you moved, it moved. It clung to your arms and legs like some sort of parasite.

“What’s happening?”

Your voice seemed to squeak, words trapping in your throat as the panic set in.

“Breathe, my love.”

Oberyn had climbed off Leto and treaded towards you, hands open.

Except you couldn’t, your chest was heaving, tears brimming your eyes as your mind worked overtime to process what the fuck was going on. You fumble to undo your dress, pulling the fabric from your frame before letting it drop to a puddle on the floor.

Leto’s one brow arched sharply, Oberyn didn’t lie when he said you always did what you were told. You stood there, stark naked, the particles whirling from every limb, every curve as you began to shake.

“Look at me,” Oberyn said firmly.

Taking an index finger and thumb under your chin, he brings your eyes forward. You focus on him, eyebrows knotting as you can see something coming from him, a delicate steam.

His colour was noticeably different, Leto’s even more so.

“Some say it’s a projection of us,” Leto says.

You blink, “Like an aura?”

“Perhaps,” his lips briefly form a smile. “Maybe a little deeper than that, I’ve heard some say it’s like seeing into each other’s soul.”

“So indigo is?”

“Somewhere between the divine and clarity.”

“And Oberyn?”

“An expression of love.”

Oberyn shrugs, what can he say.

You brush the skin of your stomach and watch the light flutter into pieces of orange.

“Svandhisthana,” Oberyn chimes in.

Your eyebrows knot further.

“Sacral… Desire.”

Oberyn brings his hand to yours, intertwining his fingers and you can feel the heat, almost scorching to the touch. Your heartbeat steadies, your face relaxing as you look at his smile broaden in a childish nature.

Leto opens his arms, offering himself to you.

Oberyn give you a squeeze, a simple gesture to entrust yourself to him, to another lover. Your fingers slip from his hand as you saunter over to where Leto sits, nestling between his thick thighs and press a knee gently to his balls.

You both allow yourselves to admire each other in your most natural forms.

Leto is lean, soft ripples of a six pack present as you trail your fingertips over his skin, sparks of colour escaping. The muscles of his broad shoulders stretch as he rearranges himself to get a fuller view of you. His cock is still hard on his stomach, glistening in a mixture of Oberyn’s spit and his own precum.

His arm wraps around you, forcing you to his body with a gasp. You squirm just a little as a fire spreads across your breast and chest.

“Relax.”

Oberyn’s voice comes from behind you yet you can’t tell who he was referring to in this moment.

With his other hand, Leto trails down your back and over the curvature of your ass, fingers slipping between your legs. He hums with pleasure as he reaches your soft, soaking folds. Bringing his face closer, he brushes the tip of his nose against yours in a playful manner.

“You’re already nice and wet for us.”

He stifles your response with a kiss.

It was rough, heavy, his salt and pepper beard scratching delicate skin but you couldn’t fight him. His tongue prises open your lips as you willingly accept him into your mouth, tongues melding.

It’s clear that the drug in your system wants this but you’re not sure.

He locks an arm around your waist and though you push, you can’t escape. You moan, nails burying into Leto’s shoulders as you fought for air.

The sensation of another set of hands on you only fans the flames further.

“My love, relax.”

Leto parts and you gasp, trying to catch your breath.

“I feel like I’m on fucking fire.”

There were more poetic ways to explain what you were feeling but your brain wasn’t functioning. It was too preoccupied with the two men around you, the heat that radiated from them, the sweat that clung like condensation to an ice cold glass on a summer’s day. Their scent, their slick voices and fork-like tongues.

“This is what Spice does, you have to let it consume you.”

Otherwise it will hurt you, that’s what he left out.

Oberyn begins to rub the small of your back, just like he did when you initially met, when you opened yourself up to him, when he first took you to his bed.

“I don’t know how.”

Leto’s arm loosens, his frame relaxing underneath your weight.

“Maybe you do not know but I know you can, I’ve seen it many times.”

Leto’s fingertips graze your stomach, he can see it, you can feel it, the knot that has its hold. He glances over your shoulder and you sense the exchange between them.

“We’ll take it slow, we’ll get you where Leto wants you.”

The heat comes to your cheeks.

Oberyn wraps around you, his nose pressing into your back before he scoops you up from the other man. He flops onto the other half of the sofa, your body splaying over his, knees parting your thighs so you’re laid bare for his guest.

Leto shuffled, propping himself up for a better view.

Oberyn’s touch was soft, his hand rising from your hip and over your stomach, fingertips sweeping to the peak of your breast, your nipple a hard bud.

He took a finger and thumb, squeezing lightly and the spark travels down your nerve endings, settling low. Your head rolls into the crook of his neck with a sigh and you feel his jaw against your temple.

“Always so sensitive.”

You giggle.

“I love it,” he utters.

Leto watches on, cock twitching at the display. It’s torturous to watch that pussy go untouched but Oberyn was going to take his time, you’d unravel eventually.

Oberyn pinched your nipple harder, taking your whine in his mouth as he slipped in his tongue and yours danced in unison. His other hand teased at your thigh, drawing shapes with subtle fingers until he felt the tension fall. It inched nearer your pussy, gliding over the crease to meet your mound.

He held there for a few seconds before spreading his fingers down your slick outer lips.

You whimper yet your hips roll to his touch.

He stops kissing you to speak.

“I told the Duke that you were always wet for me and you didn’t let me down, did you?”

The sound of squelching seemed to fill the room and you cry as his fingers start to work you.

Leto clenched his hands into fists, his cock stiffening. He was resisting the temptation to edge, to lunge forward and take your cunt in his mouth. He had to behave himself, to control the Spice’s urges to have you.

Oberyn pins your head under his chin before pressing a finger to your clit.

He knows your every tick, stopping your legs from instinctively closing, your moan stifled in his neck. He shushes you, pressing his other palm to your stomach, flushing your back to his chest. 

Kissing your temple, he plays with you some more.

Leto has beads of sweat rolling from his hairline, the tip of his cock bright with a single drop of precum hanging.

Oberyn clocks his rigid appearance, taking his fingers away to the sound of your lose. He places the two fingers into his mouth, spreading the taste of you on his tongue before popping them out in an exaggerated fashion.

Dick, Leto thought.

You look up at Oberyn, dazed with heavy lids.

“How about we let Leto have a play, hm? As long as he plays nice.”

You nod timidly.

Leto doesn’t need anymore direction though he moves unhurried, fingertips on your leg with the lightest pressure. Oberyn returns his attention to you, locking his lips to yours. His hands glide over to your breasts, massaging your slick thoroughly into your skin.

Your thighs felt the tickle of Leto’s whiskers as he carefully analysed your muscle movement with a singular kiss. Your chest raised, your breath hitching as a new player entered the game.

He pressed another and another, each one climbing towards his final goal, you were even more messy up close. His breath teased, the peak of his nose grazing that sweet pearl that sent shivers up your spine. He flattened his tongue and licked your cunt in one smooth motion.

You broke away from Oberyn, the gasp you released throwing your head back.

Leto continues to clean you up, taking his time, listening to each noise to spill from you. Once he was done, he didn’t stop, plunging his tongue into you with ease.

You shudder.

He licks your inner walls, lapping up your juices and when you struggle, his hands pin you down.

Oberyn was kissing you wherever he could, finding the right spots to gently nip at you with his teeth, never hard enough to leave a mark.

All you could do was take them.

The room was beginning to spin, heart pounding as the colourful glimmers turned into spots of white. The fire was coming to the surface, prickling the areas where they touched, the knot in your belly tangling more.

Your legs begin to vibrate.

“Let go.”

And it’s not as if the knot snaps, instead it’s like Oberyn has one end and Leto the other. They both pull and the cluster becomes undone, smoothly and effortlessly.

Your muscles contract before going limp and you throw your head back in blissful euphoria without making a sound. The heat builds, an inferno spreading over every part of your body, your juices overflowing.

You can’t remember much of your release, it came fast and was more than enough to feed a hungry Leto. Oberyn, all the while, sung his praises quietly into your ear.

“Yes, that’s it, you’re being such a good girl for us… Look at how much you have to give him… Bet that pretty little pussy of yours is fluttering round his tongue.”

The more he spoke, the more you came.

You were numb down there but you knew he was right. Leto was lapping as you carried on gushing, your juices trickling down your butt cheeks. By the time he came up for air, his chest was taking deep inhales, whiskers gleaming with you and a crooked smile on his lips.

Slowly, your mind began to focus and you returned back to the room, Oberyn hard beneath you.

“Fuuuck.”

You can picture how he looks, his eyes dark and hooded, his lips parted.

You try to lift yourself up, your head struggling to stay up. The sofa was drenched between your thighs, joined with Leto’s creamy white cum that decorated the cushion though his cock remained hard.

You were still sensitive, your folds throbbing as you brought your legs together yet it couldn’t stop the flames from stoking again.

“Take me to bed,” you say breathily.

Leto didn’t need to be told twice.

Getting off the sofa, he grabbed you roughly on the hips and hauled you from the sofa. He threw you over his shoulder, smirking at your high-pitched yelp before bringing a sharp tap to your ass. 

Oberyn laughed at the display, chasing you both into the bedroom.

Chucking you onto the bed, you bounced on Oberyn’s incredibly soft mattress, your dewy skin gliding over silk sheets.You wriggle further up the bed, resting your elbows to admire the two men waiting to take you, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. The colours remained around them, not as strong but soft and ambient.

“How would you like to do this?”

You look to Oberyn with doe eyes.

How were you supposed to do this?

You had never partaken in a threesome, out of the two of you, he was certainly more experienced in something like this. Your mind was still swimming from the effects of Spice, all you could process was the details of the well endowed men - how they tasted, how they were lean with softened muscles, how dark their eyes were as they continued to stare.

“Maybe you ask too many questions,” Leto brought his attention to Oberyn.

“Perhaps,” he replied, “I just want to ensure she’s ready for this.”

Your excitement pools between your thighs. You try to say something but nothing comes out causing the smile to return to Oberyn’s lips.

“I do love it when you’re lost for words.”

The men meet each other’s eyes with a hooded look. You felt the temperature rise in your cheeks and chest, nails sinking into the sheets as your body prepared for what would happen next. They pounced onto the bed, Oberyn wrapping his wide hands around your ankles, yanking you towards him.

The goosebumps decorate your skin as he kneels over you.

Dropping his hands either side of your head, he brings his face millimetres from yours and your heart skips a beat.

“You remember what I said to you on the first night?”

You nod, unable to speak as he engulfed all your senses.

“If it’s too much, say and we’ll stop.”

The bed shifted as Leto knelt next to you, you could sense what was about to happen and you nod again.

“I need you to use your words for me now.”

You swallow thickly.

“Yes, your highness.”

Oberyn stared longingly at your face, your flushed cheeks, the blue glow in your eyes, that ever present smile of a completely blissed out state. You always looked at him like that, even without Spice, as if you could never quite believe that you existed alongside the Prince of Dorne, let alone underneath him in the most vulnerable way a human can be.

“That’s it, my love.”

He kissed your lips gently at first, running his tongue along your bottom lip for entry, increasing his force when your mouth opened. Just as quickly as he gave it to you, he took it away.

You pouted as he inspected you one last time before he planted his lips on your chin and down your neck, teeth nipping as he continued over your body.

Leto brought his cock close.

You craned your neck, tentatively licking the cum that had gathered. Parting your lips, you took the tip in your mouth, running your tongue around the ridge. His length twitched, a gravelly groan coming from his chest as his hand reached for the back of your head.

He let you set the pace.

Oberyn and him had already discussed your inexperience before they offered for you to join them and though Oberyn had taught you more than you’d heard of, some things took practice. You couldn’t take Leto forcing his cock down your pretty little throat, much like how neither could take you in your yet to be stretched ass hole.

Oberyn pressed his tongue over your folds, a moan escaping you, bringing more pleasure to Leto who took a fistful of your hair. Oberyn toyed with your clit before straightening up, his light touch spreading your legs wider as he positioned himself ready. He held his cock in one hand, rubbing the tip along your entrance, collecting your arousal.

Your breathing begins to pick up speed, your tongue still leisurely working Leto.

Oberyn starts to push himself in.

Leto’s cock drops from your mouth as you gasp, Oberyn stopping, playfully swatting your thigh. You look up at him wide eyed, fluttering your eyelashes as if you’d done nothing wrong.

“Keep him in your mouth.”

You do as you’re told.

Mouth salivating, you return to Leto’s length, hollowing out your cheeks as you prepare to take him except you wait for Oberyn to make the first move.

He continues, your walls stretching to fit his girth and you match his movements, swallowing Leto inch by inch. His cock was a weight on your tongue, heavy yet holding firm, and you took him until you fell the tip nudge the back of your throat. You held there for a moment before drawing back, Oberyn fucking you in tandem.

The room fulls with pleasured moans, all of you in unison.

After a while, you felt Oberyn’s hand at your ankle. He guided your knee to your chest, bringing your leg over to rest on the opposite side. This was one of his favourite positions, it allowed him to bury his nails into the plump muscle of your ass and for his cock to glide over that one spot in your walls.

You drop Leto’s cock from your mouth with a pop to have a chance to breath.

He bends over you to kiss your cheek then your lips and somewhere underneath that thick beard of his, you see a soft smile. The effects of Spice seemed to have faded for him, maybe he was used to it. 

His fingers loosen from your hair, “How are you holding up?”

Indigo flares still sparked from him as you bounced from Oberyn’s impacts.

“Good,” you laugh nervously, “I think.”

“Hm.”

He trails his fingertips down your face, the matches striking, the heat rising yet again.

You meet his palm, the metal of his ring cooler in comparison to the temperature between you. The desire consumes you until you can’t take it anymore and find your mouth enveloping his thumb, sucking for his flavour.

He pulls it out, pressing it into your plump bottom lip.

“Do you want all of me?”

Your heart skipped a beat, Oberyn sighing as your cunt pulses.

“Yes, my lord.”

Oberyn groans, shutting his eyes from the scene that was unfolding. He was already holding back, ignoring the burn at the bottom of his spine because he didn’t wish for this night to end.

Leto chuckles, his beard scratching as he whispers in your ear.

“Show him what you can do.”

You smile proudly as he straightens his back, his cock ready for you to take.

Moistening your lips, you gradually begin to swallow his length. The gag reflex starts to kick in but you fight it as his tip pushes against the back of your throat. Your whole body convulses and Oberyn can’t help looking, ensuring you’re ok.

When he opens his eyes, Leto is already helping, one hand stroking his neck and the other plucking the damp hair strands from your face.

Oberyn slowed down for you.

After another gag, Leto pulled himself out, a strand of spit hanging from his tip. The two of you exchange simple gestures before he pushes his cock back into your mouth. He takes measured movements until he’s gliding in and out with ease.

Your sigh gurgles, the tension leaving your body.

Leto turns his head, “More?”

Oberyn smirks at him, rocking his hips harder.

You cry as they move in tandem, neither of them leaving you empty. A warm builds from either end, from one end of your spine to the other and you wished you could tell them how fucking good it feels.

Both admire how well you’re handling this.

Your arousal spills over Oberyn’s cock, sticking to the hairs at the base, the suction of your tightening walls getting stronger. The saliva dribbles from your mouth, over your chin, as your jaw aches. Tears prick in the corners, eyes glossy as you choke on the speed of Leto, each of the men chasing their release.

The Spice courses through Oberyn’s veins, a creeping sensation reaching his fingers and his toes. He knew he was close, the muscles in his ass clenching as he fought to keep going, to outlast the Duke.

Though Leto was resilient, he knew he could outlast both of you especially when he’d already found his release. He could fight the drug in his system, you two, not so much and he could see how the other man was flagging.

Oberyn hissed through gritted teeth as you clenched around him uncontrollably.

Your whole body was screaming at you and you dug into the mattress to stay upright. The vibration began at your legs before you were shaking, your heart racing. Your vision of Leto was blurring.

“Cum for us.”

He groans as the reverberations travelled through his cock, your eyes going crosseyed as the orgasm took you.

Your throat contracts as he draws his hips back, his length falling out of your mouth and you gasp, your words incoherent as your forehead meets the bed. You hear Oberyn growl as he fills you to the hilt, another jerk to pump more of his seed into you.

The atmosphere settles, Oberyn’s lips pressing delicately to the skin of your waist, your hip.

Turning your head to the side, you see Leto above you, cock standing proud.

“You didn’t cum,” your throat scratched.

“I’m sure the Prince can help with that.”

The two of them exchange a look of hunger.

Oberyn pulls out, his cum seeping out of your entrance and spreading over your legs. You groan as you pick yourself up in your cock drunk state, crawling up the bed to rest your head on the plump pillows.

Glancing past your feet, they’re both already entranced by the other. Hands skim over muscles, their bodies slotting perfectly together, the increasing smile on Oberyn’s lips as Leto grabs him roughly.

They’re ready to give you another show.

Except this time, though you’d very much like to watch, your eyelids grew heavy before you found yourself in the land of slumber.

[palioom]

day eight - breeding kink

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 657

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; breeding kink, dirty talk, mirror sex, unprotected p in v, creampie

• kinktober 2023 masterlist •

His hands felt like fire on her skin, his soft lips on her skin like a burning trail, his beard like sharp little blades. So overwhelmed, his hand holding her chin tightly and making her look.

“You will look so gorgeous with my little viperlings inside of you.” He rasped against her ear, biting her earlobe softly. Her legs were spread wide as she knelt in front of him, giving a perfect view of his cock buried deep inside of her in the mirror Oberyn had asked to be placed at the foot of the bed. His cum was already trickling out of her, his stamina and devotion endless as he fucked up into her again and again, only taking breaks when absolutely necessary.

But never pulling out of her, his chest molded against her back.

“You’ll love that, won’t you, my dove?” He cooed, thrusting up into her again, the wet squelch borderline obscene and making her whimper. “Round and full of me? Our viperlings?”

She nodded, biting her lip. Eyes fixed only on where they were joined, where the sticky, white mess dripped onto the sheets.

“Yes, Oberyn.” Her voice was barely a whisper, exhausted but so determined to make this work. Sweat covering her skin, her hair sticking to her forehead. “Fuck me full of you, breed me, give me a child.”

Desperate for one, she had done everything possible to prepare her womb for a child. Oberyn was adamant to fulfill her wish, wanting a little baby as well, and he wouldn’t stop until they had it.

“I will, my sweet.” His free hand cupped her breast, tan and veiny, with thick and strong fingers, his other keeping her head in place as she moved to rest it against his shoulder. He needed her to watch, his own eyes flicking back and forth between the wanton expression on her face and her swollen, wet pussy stuffed full of him and him only. “Make you so round, I cannot wait to see your breasts grow heavy.”

She nodded, just about ready to collapse, the intense feeling of another orgasm welling up, still sensitive and aching from the previous ones.

“I want them so much, I want your seed.” Tears welled up in her eyes, her hands holding onto his, onto his body. So desperate and whiny. “You will keep me pregnant? Give me more and more?”

Oberyn’s tongue danced over the shell of her ear, pulling her closer against him. Hips stuttering at her begging for him to keep her pregnant, to fill her with his seed again and again. The thought of it would drive him insane, to keep breeding her, just like she said.

“Nothing would excite me more than fuck my seed into you until it takes.” He groaned, his hand on her breast moving in between her legs, finding her swollen and overly sensitive clit. She whined and tried to shy away from him, everything too much. Wanting nothing more than to carry his children. “Oh, my sweet, to hear you begging for me to give you a child - you do not know what you just unleashed.”

She convulsed around him again, her body weak in his arms, eyes still on the cum that ran down his cock and onto his heavy balls, dripping onto the sheets. Barely noticing as he added more with a deep groan, his fingers only slowing down when his hips had stilled inside of her.

Oberyn guided her down onto the sheets, knowing she had been thoroughly worn out, never slipping from her.

“I will give you all the viperlings you wish for, my dove.” He whispered into her ear, brushing the hair from her face. “I will give you my seed as often as you wish for it.”

She hummed, feeling so full and warm and spent. Slipping into dreams of his strong hand on her swollen belly.

Again and again and again.

[pascalypse]

PEDRO PASCAL - PASCALIPSE

We present the complete Filmography of Pedro Pascal, with images of all the works that our Pedrito has done on TV and in Cinema. Enjoy!

Apresentamos a Filmografia completa de Pedro Pascal, com imagens de todos os trabalhos que nosso Pedrito fez na TV e no Cinema. Aproveitem!

Presentamos la Filmografía completa de Pedro Pascal, con imágenes de todos los trabajos que nuestro Pedrito ha realizado en TV y en Cine. ¡Disfrutar!

[umadosedepascal]

NEW MEXICO | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | PART IX

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro asks you to spend his birthday together with you. You just go.

wc: 3.3k

rating/warnings: [pure smut no plot][unprotected PIV][oral sex m/f] [alcohol comsuption][Spitting] [Overstimulation][Pedro’s POV on the first part]

a/n: The new look needed a fic. Simple like that he just wants to devasted you haha

5:45AM

The alarm rings, I get up from the bed reluctantly, regretting the night before with those tequila shots.

_Pedro, why did you forget to shave yesterday?

I look at myself looking in the hotel mirror, dying to go back to bed.

_Can I shave without any cuts? It's been so long…

I take off my PJs and my phone vibrates with countless messages, it was her.

*Hi P. When will you be free? I want to see you. It's been a while...*

Even though I'm in another state... fuck it.

*Hi my love, I'm in New Mexico for work... what are your plans? *

While I let the steam of the hot water invade the bathroom, I wrap a towel around my waist and take a pic in the mirror and then send it.

*6 a.m., recording is what I have for today...*

I know her so well.

*Wow! What a hottie, I’m craving you now...*

I'm already late and need to shave it off, so I hold my phone on top of the sink and call her.

I can see that she's on the couch.

"Weren't you at home?" I ask raising an eyebrow and fixing the phone on the countertop

"I told you babe, I went out with friends, we went to a bar, but I'm already here and wanting you" she smiles and lowers the camera showing me the dress she wears.

_Does she need to be that hot?

"I would love to be there now, I have wonderful ideas of what I would do with you on this couch…"

I just look at her and move away, giving her a view of my shape, I take off the towel and open the shower door and enter, letting the hot water reach my body, giving me goosebumps for the temperature and for knowing that she is watching me.

"If I can't be with you on this couch, I thought you deserved a little show"

She squirms on the couch, biting her lip and just nodding her head without saying a word. I like the effect I have on her.

"Does that makes you horny, love? To see me like this?" I ask and squeeze my cock, my hand sliding slightly up and down

"Pedro, don't play with me like that!"

"Patience mama, patience" I say smiling.

An idea comes up, but I don't tell her, I just smile and as soon as I finish I pick up my phone

"Honey, I need to run, soon they'll be here calling for me, I can't be late"

"I know P, it's okay, call me back tonite." she smiles and we say goodbye, even if my cock protests wanting to feel that pussy, that mouth, I don't have time now.

As soon as I turn it off, I take the razor, the foam, moving the wet hair away from the forehead I face my reflex and start spreading the foam around my face.

It's been so long since I've taken my beard off that it takes me longer than necessary, taking care not to cut myself. As soon as I finish I feel different, a new Pedro maybe, the new look of the next few weeks, maybe months.

I take a pic and send her.

*This is Ted Garcia, nice to meet you. Please come and stay until Tues to spend my birthday with me? *

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

*JAVIER? Is that you?*

You fall asleep and wake up at 3pm

Was it a dream? _

No, you get your phone and see that it was real.

Without thinking too much, you buy a ticket for the end of the day and get any hotel in the same city as Pedro.

*I’m getting there at the end of the night, where can I meet you?*

Hours go by and no message from him.

You are already at the hotel so to wait for an answer from Pedro, you get dressed and go down to the hotel bar and order a drink, it's already late at night and no sign of him.

1 AM

*Mama, oh you already here? Exhausting day. I can't wait to see you tomorrow. Dream of me*

Yes, it's frustrating but you understand his side and try to sleep without thinking too much about the day to come.

Waking up early the next day you have your breakfast with mimosa and lots of good food.

*Good morning, Javier. I mean... Ted...oops Pedro! Can I be your informant today? 😏*

A few minutes a very direct message appears on the screen.

*Second trailer, in the corner my name is at the door😉.*

Arriving in the scenographic city that is not that scenic, until then no one prevents you from walking around there, despite being temporarily restricted. Maybe everyone thinks you're part of the cast, since you're wearing bootcut jeans, a white T-shirt and leather boots. Would you be an impostor? As soon as you approach the trailer, a security guard will block you.

“Credentials?”

"No, I just..." you stutter thinking about how to explain until Pedro opens the door of the trailer and smiles

"She is with me!”

Pedro extend his arm to you, helping you climb the steps, he pulls you into the trailer and locks the door behind you. You can barely say hi to him and you are pushed to the door.

He presses his body against yours, his left hand going up your thigh to your waist, where he pulls you closer.

You can feel his cock hardening against his jeans.

"Pedro..." You say softly as he lowers his mouth down your neck, it's a new feeling, still feeling the mustache pinch the skin, but also feeling the softness of his face. The smell of perfume, aftershave lotion. The smell of his skin.

"I know." Pedro holds your face, looking and smiling at you, so you observe how he looks younger without a beard, how beautiful he is, his hair a little messy, his dark eyes full of lust, his breath panting.

"Hi," he says laughing, sticking his forehead to yours.

You pull him by his shirt, his lips hitting yours, his hands climbing up the back of your neck scratching slightly. His hands going up under your blouse, his thumbs drawing circles on the skin, leaving you goosebumps.

You turn around and sit on the couch and look at Pedro.

“You said you had wonderful ideas of what to do with me on a couch, well...show me"

"Motherfucker..." Pedro comes pushing you to lie on the couch, spreading kisses down your neck, pulling the strap off of your shirt to suck on the skin where he knows it will be marked.

He puts his hand under your shirt, going up until he reaches your breast, squeezing over your bra, teasing your nipples while he keeps kissing your neck.

You say panting between kisses and bites "Go show me... what would you do to me on the couch, huh?"

"I have 15 minutes before go shooting, but I promise I'll show everything tonite"

He is on top of you on the couch, taking off your shirt, spreading kisses around your breasts then you hold the waistband of his pants running your fingers through the button and open it urgently. "Leave it like this..." pulling his cock out of his underwear.

He moves away a little by pulling his jeans at the height of his thighs and moving your panties to the side, sliding two fingers inside your wet pussy.

"Yeah, like that..” you say in the midst of moans.

Now he presses his thumb on your clit. He looks at you with a smile on his face.

You slide your hands through his hair, messing up even more, your hands going down his face, the skin so soft.

"Why you so hot...hm"

Pedro speed up the movements of his finger saying

“Tonight…”

He helps you remove your pants and you intertwine your legs around his waist holding him to you.

You look down, his cock is drooling precum, pink head and burning with horniness.

You take it at the base of his cock and guide it to your entrance in a hurry. A moan that he releases in your ear is enough to make you even wetter.

“You're going to fuck me like this on the couch... I want to see it in the hotel bed, Javier...”

"Are you really going to call me Javier?" Pedro laughs against your neck, his thrusts are slow and firm.

"I will, you haven't changed anything, so I can cal-- oh my God! Pedro!" You can't even finish the sentence the moment Pedro fucks you harder, he holds your legs raising almost the height of his chest. His cock hitting your G.

"More, I need more, please…"

Pedro runs his tongue through your collarbone going up until he finds your lips, biting his lower lip he looks you in the eyes and says..

"Ask me, beg for my dick, but say my name when you moan…"

You beg, you are so horny that you would do whatever he wanted, I would say what he said. You would just obey.

He moves far enough away to open his shirt, he is sweaty, red. You stretch your hand to touch him but he is faster and holds you by the hip making you get on all fours, your arms resting on the sofa, your nails scratching the fabric in search of relief.

Pedro holds your hip and you hear the sound of him spitting, hot saliva running down your pussy, he slide in his cock and holds your hair, pulling you to glue your back to his chest.

"Come on love, give it to me, I'm dying to feel this pussy squeezing me, cumming on my cock…"

He runs his right hand through your body, skillful fingers circling your clit. It only takes a few seconds for you to cum moaning his name, Pedro covering your mouth with his left hand in a failed attempt to muffle the sounds.

"That, one more, one more and I promise you won't regret waiting until tonite."

Pedro fingers you again, your orgasm burning in your stomach, making your body tremble against his.

"That's it, mama, just like that…"

He holds you by squeezing your breasts and punching harder Pedro cums inside you, moaning in your ear talking about how he fucking missed you and won't stop until you can't take it anymore.

You fall on the couch, panting, sweaty and satisfied, for now.

"I’ve missed you…" he pulls you and kisses you while caressing your nipple.

"Me too, and I can't wait for more. Dinner and party?"

He smirks and nods, agreeing, kissing you again.

Pedro gets up and helps you get dressed, and then gets dressed.

"Okay, Mr Hollywood, go to work. You're not going to fool anyone with the face of someone who just came inside me."

"I'm a great actor love, I won a SAG Awards, remember?" You laugh at the way he pretends to hold a trophy.

You say goodbye and you decide to walk around the city before going back to the hotel and waiting for it.

9:00PM

Pedro sends you a message saying that he is in the lobby, but you are not ready yet and ask him to come up and wait for you in the room for a moment.

_What stupid idea was that? _

You don't even worry about dressing up straight anymore.

The moment he enters your room he already pulls you by the back of your neck with one hand and climbs with the other by your right thigh leading you towards the bed.

You can't resist, you already knew this would happen. "Was that your plan?" You question.

Throwing you on the bed and unbuttoning your pants and pulling you by your legs, Pedro licks alternating on your inner thighs until he reaches your pussy pulling your panties aside. Licking lightly, with wet kisses over your clit.

It's an exciting torture to see him rubbing himself on the mattress while sucking your pussy, the vision is surreal.

Between a moan and another that the two release, you say

"Pedro, I don't know what's better, seeing you sucking me or you rubbing yourself on the mattress"

With no answer, he looks you in the eyes and spits in your pussy and sticks his tongue deeper.

And with a deep voice he orders

"Cum for me.”

You take his hand guide to your breast so that he squeezes your nipple. It's not enough for him. Pedro reachs out his other hand and has both of your nipples being squeezed and pinched while fucking you with his tongue.

You cum, so intensely sinking your fingers into his hair that are already wet with sweat.

He looks at you with wet lips and chin…

"That's priceless…." you say moaning lazily.

Pedro gets on his knees in bed, running his hand through his lips, cleaning the remnants of your arousal.

He pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it in a corner on the floor.

You support your elbows on the bed looking at his body. The smooth skin, broad shoulders, the freckles on his wide chest and the small stripe of hair going down the waistband of the pants where you can clearly see his bulge pressing against the jeans.

Without taking his eyes off you, Pedro opens his belt, slowly opening the two buttons and pulling the zipper down.

"Pedro... I want to…"

Pedro looks into your eyes and holds your ankles, caressing your skin and smiling at you, he says

"What, cariño? What do you want? Tell me and I'll give to you…"

You don't say anything, you just smile and get on your knees on the bed, pushing Pedro to bed, you hold the waistband of his jeans, your fingers playing with the edge of his underwear, feeling his skin shiver when your nails touch him.

You pull out your pants and throw them in the corner where his shirt is.

You settle in between his legs, your nails stroking through his thighs, up and down, you feel how his body is tense, impossible to ignore the perfect vision of Pedro lying down, his hands behind his head. As relaxed as he tries to look, you know he's anxious, his cock outline in his white boxer underwear, the small pre-cum stain.

You slide your hands until you almost touch his balls, Pedro sighs, his cock twitches against the fabric of his underwear, you smile and bring your face closer to his cock, slowly pulling his underwear making his cock jump on your face.

His hard cock, the pink tip dripping pre cum, the side vein pulsing non-stop, begging for touch.

You hold his cock by the base, raising your hand until your thumb spreads the pre cum at the tip, Pedro moans and reaches his hand to caress your face.

"Please don't make me wait any longer" Pedro begs softly

You hold his cock and first lick it, taking it all wet from the tip, sucking the tip of the cock feeling Pedro tangle his hands in your hair, you swallow his cock until you feel it in your throat. Pedro moans loudly and squeezes your hair

"Oh baby, like that, swallow all my dick like that, fuck!"

You jerk him off while sucking him, with your free hand you caress his balls, Pedro moans, the sounds that come out of his mouth are pornographic, making your pussy get even more wet. You think you could make fun just seeing him like this, destroyed.

You stop and look at him with desire.

"What?" He asks as he caresses your face.

"Can you dim the light? You're making me lose my mind..."

He dims the lights on the side of the bed and goes to the mini bar taking a bottle of champagne and opens it, taking a long sip.

_He walking hard in the middle of room is too much for me I can’t even speak_

He goes back to bed and leaves the bottle on the bedside table, he kneels between your legs and holds his cock by the base and slides up and down over your pussy, pushing against your clit. He moans seeing the way your pussy wets his cock.

"Do you want more?"

“Yes..”

"How much more?"

“Everything..”

So he bends down and kiss you distributing licks on your jaw and neck.

"Slow down?"

Pedro slides his cock with a low moan, his hands holding your hip firmly, he fucks you with short and firm movements.

"Faster?" He asks smiling

You just nod your head taking your arms around the back of his neck pulling him down.

He wraps his arms around your waist making you arch your back and thrust in it deep once, twice.

You moan with pain and pleasure at the same time trying to get used to his cock and his movements.

Wiping one hand across his forehead hand with his other on your ass he fucks you harder, the sound that echoes in the room of skin with skin is exciting along with your moans.

"Come to me, mama.."

He takes his dick off of you with a grunt.

Feeling that sudden emptiness Pedro puts you on all fours grabbing your ass, he slides inside you again.

Your already soaked pussy is an easy target.

He holds you with one hand by the hair and another hand rubbing your clit while licking your neck saying words in your ear that you already can't understand.

He stops moving and you see that he stretches his hand, wait, is he picking up the bottle?

You turn your head to the right and look at the mirror in the closet, your pussy throbs with the vision

Pedro holding your hip with his left hand, slowly putting his cock in you while his right hand holds the bottle, taking several sips. You moan when you see him sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead, your eyes go down to his chest, his belly and your eyes stop where he is in you, his cock going in and out, the sounds that your bodies make.

He takes the bottle out of his mouth and looks at you in the mirror…

"Happy Birthday to me mama" he smiles and drops the bottle on the floor, not caring about the mess, Pedro holds your hips with both hands, and goes hard and faster.

"Oh Pedro, please please don't stop!"

He turns you around, pulling your legs and putting it on his broad shoulders, then shove into you again deep and fast.

"So, baby? That's how you like my dick? Opening you all up? Soaking all my dick? Tell me"

His voice is low, hoarse and horny, he's a mess.

You can't say anything but moans and supplications that he doesn't stop, you're so close, your legs start to shake.

Pedro suck on his thumb and rub it on your clit, making circular and torturous movements.

"Fuck! Please, Pedro fuck me..”

"Damn, I love it when you beg for my cock, beautiful! Cum for me, babe"

He keeps circling your clit, his strong and fast thrusts lead you to orgasm, shouting his name as he bends down and holds your neck kissing you, he says between moans

"Look at me, I want to cum looking at you"

Pedro's moans are as high as yours, you feel the hot jets of cum flood your pussy, the way his cock throbs inside you. The way he looks at you as he cums, his lips half open, eyes fixed on you, his hand on your neck making the grip stronger.

"Fuck!"

He falls on you, your legs circle him, holding him as close as possible, you kiss his face, feeling him give a little kiss on your shoulder.

"For a 49 yr old man you can tire me" you laugh and Pedro bites your shoulder and comes out of you, a moan escaping from his lips. He lies next to you, pulling you to lay your head on his chest.

"I think this is one of the best birthdays I've ever had" he smiles and kiss you.

"Come babe, let’s take a shower and order food, I won't leave here anytime soon."

—————————————————

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Hello and welcome to my blog! you can find something about me here.

All of my works are +18 and NSFW, please don’t interact if you’re a minor. English is not my first language and I have no beta reader, please have mercy.

I take requests, so if you would like me to write something in particular send me an ask! For now I only write for Pedro Pascal characters (no RPF), especially Joel Miller. I haven't written for some characters yet but I would definitely try if you're interested. (And just be patient if it takes me longer than expected, please!) Thank you so much ❤️

I would love to talk to you so hit me up with an ask or a chat if you like, I’m always happy to make new friends!

I do not allow any of my work to be reposted, translated, redistributed, or fed to AI. Please let me know if you see anyone doing this.

Smut is present in all of them so make sure to read the warnings, I don’t want to make someone uncomfortable.

Full Masterlist under the cut, hope you'll enjoy!

click here

click here

click here

click here

click here

click here

click here

Happy reading!

[guiltyasdave]

strawberry sugar

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: ~1.8k

summary: Your boyfriend spoils you on your birthday morning. In some... unexpected ways. :)

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, food play, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), ridiculous amounts of fluff

meant as a follow-up to delicate, but can be read as a standalone!

a/n: written for @iamasaddie's kinky writing challenge with the prompt food play for oberyn martell. it's already june 1st where i live, so here we go!

thank you @northernbluess & @luxurychristmaspudding for screaming about this with me, i love you <3

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3

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

“Good morning, princess.”

The touch of soft lips kisses your closed eyelids, your nose, your cheeks and finally your mouth, gently stirring you awake. You hum quietly, contentedly, snuggling closer into your boyfriend’s warm arms around you. 

“Hi,” you smile, your breath ghosting against his lips, before you connect them with yours once more. 

It’s almost as if you’re still dreaming, enveloped by soft sheets and Oberyn’s warm embrace, the golden morning light flooding the room when you finally open your eyes. He’s already looking at you, your favorite crooked grin playing around the corners of his mouth. The dimple on his cheek is especially pronounced like this, making your heart flutter even after waking up next to him on most mornings for months now. 

“Happy birthday,” he purrs, one hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing the soft apple of your cheek. 

Your own grin widens and you lean into his touch. “Thank you,” you say breathily, like speaking too loud might shatter the quiet peacefulness of the moment. 

He kisses you again, lips moving against yours, giving you one swipe of his tongue against your bottom one before he pulls back, chuckling at the way you’re following to chase his touch.

“You stay right here,” he orders you gently as he swings his feet down to the ground and stands up, carefully covering you with the duvet that got ruffled with his movements. “Make yourself comfortable and I will be right back, yeah?” 

You nod silently, your smile beaming by now. You watch his retreating figure, only wearing his black boxers, leaving most of his body bare on display for you. Cords of muscle are moving under his golden skin, the sunbeams falling through your windows are catching in his dark hair, still ruffled from the night’s sleep, and you’re mesmerized. You always are when it comes to him. 

You hear his movements in the kitchen, the fridge and cabinets opening and closing, the clatter of something, and smile to yourself. When he had asked what you wanted for your birthday weeks ago, breakfast in bed had been your first response. 

Sinking deeper into the sheets again, you grab your phone, reading a couple of messages congratulating you, laughing at the photo of your childhood self that your mom had sent you. A sweet scent wafts from the kitchen into the bedroom and your mouth waters. 

Oberyn returns with a bowl of strawberries, another bowl of whipped cream and a stack of waffles, with a single burning candle on top of it. You giggle at the sight, scooching into a sitting position and helping him place the food on top of the covers. 

He lifts the plate with the waffles to your face and, winking at you, tells you to make a wish. You close your eyes, the image of his face still vivid behind your lids, and blow out the flame. As soon as he sets it back down, you pull him in for another kiss. 

“This is perfect. Already the best birthday ever. Thank you, baby.”

“Anything for you, my sun.” The endearment falls so easily from his lips, like he has no idea that it sends your heart soaring every time he says it. 

He holds a strawberry to your lips, his eyes glued to your face as you take a bite. When you playfully nip at his fingers, the deep rumble of his laugh makes a home straight in your chest, filling you with warmth. 

You watch him eat, watch his plush lips close around the fruit, his teeth sinking into it. His appreciative low hum at the taste in combination with the sight in front of you has you pressing your thighs together, your need for him always simmering just below the surface.

This must be what perfection is like, you think, looking around the room, taking in all the peacefulness that’s surrounding you right now. It’s almost overflowing, this love that you have for the man in front of you. And somehow, inexplicably, he loves you just as much. 

When Oberyn’s teeth dig into another strawberry, he catches your gaze, must see the heat behind your eyes. He winks at you, deliberately slowly biting into the fruity flesh, licking his lips afterwards without ever dropping the eye contact with you. 

“Are you full already?” he asks, a cocky smile playing around his lips.

“Not quite,” you tell him, eyes innocently widened. “But I got really hungry for something else just now.” 

“Yeah?” he chuckles, pushing the food further away and reaching for you instead. 

You meet him eagerly, pressing your lips to his hungrily. His hands are everywhere, spanning wide over your body, leaving a burning trail over your skin and pressing into your flesh so deliciously that you’re already breathing soft moans into his mouth. 

His fingers slide under the shirt of his that you’re sleeping in, trail over the lace of your underwear until he’s right between your thighs. The fabric is already drenched there, clinging to your heated skin. He growls at your obvious arousal, licks deeper into your mouth while his fingers trace the shape of you over your panties. 

He sits back, watches you with dark eyes as you blink up at him, breathless and pleading. You pull the shirt off of your body, baring yourself for him, hungry for the expression that you see on his face every time he lays eyes on you like this. 

“My pretty girl,” he muses, still lazily stroking his fingers over your underwear, not swayed by your desperate whine. 

He picks up one of the strawberries, dips it into the bowl of whipped cream and brings it up to your lips, watches with rapt attention when your mouth obediently closes around the fruit. It leaves bits of cream behind, and he’s on you in a heartbeat, kisses the mess away and licks deep into your mouth. You love when he pounces on you like this, his movements all gracefulness and unrestrained strength. 

“You taste so sweet,” he whispers into your neck, nipping at the skin there. 

You wiggle underneath him, trying to reach for a berry yourself, wanting to kiss the taste off his mouth as well. He stops you before you can dip it into the cream, one hand wrapping around your wrist, easily dwarfing it. 

“I have a better idea,” he grins, all teeth, and a feral glint in his eyes. “Going to taste even sweeter.” 

You watch in stunned silence as he finally peels your panties off of you and down your legs, then swirls two fingers through your wetness and sucks them into his mouth. 

“So much sweeter.” 

He easily plucks the fruit from your hand and moves closer to you, your legs easily parting wider around his broad frame. You whine his name, the realization of what he’s about to do slowly dawning on you. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the mere thought.  

Oberyn leans over you, drinking in your every reaction as he pinches the strawberry between two fingers and slowly trails it down your body. You shudder at the unfamiliar texture when he reaches your nipples, circling the hardened nubs and chuckling at your responding moan.

“Does it feel good?” he asks, wide smile on his face.

“So good,” you breathe, arching your back trying to get more friction, “please, Oberyn.” 

With a hum, he stops playing with your breasts and continues moving downwards. When he finally reaches your cunt, you’re dripping for him, wetness spread over your skin. He moves the strawberry through your folds with ease, eyes glimmering and glued to what he’s doing. You could almost come from the sight of his ravenous expression alone. 

He brings it up to your face again, showing you the red fruit coated in your slick. Holding your gaze, his teeth dig into it. You moan at the sight, one hand tangling in his hair to hold him close, pulling him into you once more. 

“It is even sweeter than I thought, princess.” 

You crash your lips against his, your tongue licking into his mouth with the need to share this with him, to taste what he tasted. It is sweet, mixed with the tangy hints of yourself. He pulls back much too soon, mischief dancing on his features. 

“Let me get you your own one,” he purrs, already reaching for the bowl again. “As a present, hm?” 

You watch with wide eyes as he goes straight for your pussy this time, dragging a second berry through your wetness, nudging at your entrance and bumping against your clit. A high pitched whine leaves you at that, and he arches an eyebrow at you, a smirk growing on his face. 

“I wonder…” He trails off, swipes the strawberry over your clit again, more purposeful this time. 

You're helplessly aroused, your hips twitching at his ministrations. He steals another kiss from your lips, before he sinks down between your legs, nipping at the soft skin of your upper thighs. 

Another kiss straight to your clit, a swipe of his tongue, until it’s replaced by the foreign fruity texture again, rubbing against you with calculated movements now. His tongue laps at your entrance instead, drinking up your arousal, before he fucks it straight into you. 

Your hips almost lift off of the mattress, a cry of pleasure falling from your lips, and you grab his head with both hands, fingers sinking into the dark strands of his hair. 

“Fuck,” you whine, almost overwhelmed with the sensations and white hot pleasure coursing through your veins. “Right there, please Oberyn, I’m so close–” 

His responding groan sends rippling vibrations through you, pushing you right to the edge within seconds. It swirls around you, the scratch of his beard against your skin, the wild glint in his eyes at your every moan, so obviously relishing in giving you pleasure, the movement against your clit, his tongue right where you need him – taking hold of you and sending you flying. You come with a shuddering cry, clenching around his tongue and flooding his mouth with your orgasm, as stars burst behind your eyelids and full bliss overtakes your body. 

Oberyn works you through it, not letting up until you’re weakly trembling underneath him, tugging at his hair once more. His face swims into view in front of you, a brilliant smile grazing his features. It’s sinful, the way his pupils are blown so wide his eyes are almost black and your arousal is sticking to his beard. You want to kiss and lick it off of him. 

Instead, the taste of fruit and yourself floods your mouth once more, as he brings the berry, covered in your orgasm, up to your lips. You share it with him, tongues and limbs tangled together.

“I love you,” you sigh happily, wrapping your arms and legs around him, ready to let him consume you entirely.

thank you for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are love and mean the world to me <3

[absurdthirst]

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

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16k

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

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

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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

|| MasterList || Oberyn Martell MasterList ||

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

**** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐅𝐚𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

pairing: dbf!ellaria sand x plus size!f!reader x oberyn martell, ellaria sand x oberyn martell

genre: smut, modern au, hurt/comfort, minors dni

word count: 7.2k

summary: Wanting to get away from it all for a while, your dad suggests that you go and stay with his friend in the city; Ellaria Sand. It's been a hot while since you last saw her and you must admit, you have a bit of a crush on the older woman. What you don't expect, however, is to find an equally charming stranger staying with her as well.

warnings: threesome, age gap (reader being in her late twenties), weed use, dirty talking, body insecurities (weight related), piv, oral sex (male and female), praise kink, light bdsm dynamics, subdrop, aftercare, squirting (but like very non explicit squirting as ironic as that sounds dfvdv), use of petnames (little one, pet, good girl), no use of y/n, both ellaria and oberyn are mentioned to be polyamourus, edging

a/n: this is hella indulgent and an idea I've had since September but never actually gotten around writing it. However, while I was taking a nap the idea suddenly consumed me and I had to pause everything else to sit down and write it. Enjoy the filth, there's so much going on ❤️‍🔥

**dividers by @firefly-graphics 💜

You’re anxious as you wait for the door to open in front of you. It’s been a rough couple of months—years, actually. You feel suffocated by the world around you and yourself. Every day is another battle. You hate to admit it but you’re just so tired of fighting. There’s a constant weight on your chest that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what you do. Which led you to the doorsteps of your dad’s friend, Ellaria Sand.  

The idea had came from your dad. Noticing your troubles fitting in, he recommended you go and visit her. You were more than eager to oblige. You loved her company, she had an aura about her that just made you feel welcome. Talking to her came easy since she did most of it, and when you had something to say, she would actually listen. 

While you’re thinking about all of this, you’re trying very hard to ignore the fact that you might have a teeny-tiny crush on the older woman. However you’re ready to make the argument that it’s not your fault, she was just too charming—who wouldn’t have a crush on her? 

Ellaria’s excitement mimics your own as she opens the door. With a wide smile, she wraps her arms around you and drags you inside. 

“How was the trip?” she asks excitedly. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.” 

“Of course not, I like traveling,” you answer. “Thank you for having me by the way. How are you?” 

“Oh, pretty much the same. Nothing new.” she helps you with your luggage and you follow her to the spare bedroom. “Also I forgot to mention on the phone but a friend of mine will be visiting and staying with us as well. Is that okay?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be,” you say with a leveled voice. “Does the mystery guest have a name?” 

As you step into the room, she turns to you, still smiling.

“His name is Oberyn.” 

For your first night, you weren’t expecting to get high on the couch with Ellaria, yet here you are, your chest full of cannabis as your head rests over her lap. 

“So who is this guy?” you ask as she places the joint between your lips. You feel the warmth of her fingers. “A boyfriend or something?” 

“Or something.” 

You draw your brows together, confused, “What does that mean?”

“It means my sweet flower,” she answers slowly, dragging her knuckles up your heated cheek. “We’re together but we both agree that the pleasure of the world is too many to limit ourselves to one person.” 

“You’re in an open relationship?” you take a deep drag from the joint, your lungs expanding with smoke. 

“We’re both polyamorous.” 

“Wow, lucky,” you say with an envious tone. She quirks an eyebrow yet her smile continues on to be a humorful one. You stammer with your words. “I-I mean, it’s lucky that you found each other. Must be nice having the same ideals as someone.” 

She nods, placing the blunt back between her lips, “It is.” 

“Is he nice to you?” 

You’re not quite sure what prompts you to as that. First of all, it feels way too personal of a question to be asking your father’s friend. Even though Ellaria has spoken about her sexual relationships before, it still feels like your might be crossing an invisible line. A fog settles over your mind, loosening your tongue. You’re fascinated by functioning relationships. You’re fascinated by the idea of two people actually being understanding and caring towards each other—as ridiculous as that may sound. You haven’t had the best experiences when it came to partners, most of them going into it with hopes of changing who you are, so anytime you see two people actually liking each other’s company you can’t help but want to pull out a camera and record everything. 

Ellaria blows smoke toward your face, the warmth of it ghosting over your skin like a summer breeze. 

“He is. I wouldn’t really be with him if he wasn’t.” she pinches your cheek. “You have a weird look on your face.” 

“Oh,” you answer dumbly. “Sorry.” 

“I’m just worried. Your father didn’t really say anything other than you really needed a break.” 

“I guess I’m just a bit lonely.” 

“Well,” she says and reaches towards the ashtray to snuff out the blunt. “If that’s the case you came to the right place. You can stay as long as you want to.” before you can say anything, she starts rolling another one and a loud knock echoes across the dimly lit apartment. 

“Ah, that must be Oberyn.” 

Begrudgingly, you remove yourself away from her lap and watch Ellaria make her way toward the door. She’s wearing an orange dress, the color warming her skin. You can’t help the way your gaze drops to her behind, the soft fabric hugging her curves delicately. 

With a noise, you hurriedly snap your eyes away. It’s not the time to be ogling her like a piece of meat. 

No matter how good she looks. 

You weakly attempt to collect yourself when Ellaria returns with a tall man in tow. As you get up, you stagger a bit but manage to immediately keep yourself upright by holding on to Oberyn’s outstretched hand. His smile is kind, and the kindness reaches the depth of his eyes. Though you also see a hint of curiosity in them. His palm is searing against yours and his fingers are long and nice-looking, you spot a stylish golden ring on his thumb. 

A bit scared, and a bit excited, you meet his gaze. He’s quite handsome. In fact, you believe you might be in the presence of the most attractive two people in the city. His facial hair is neatly trimmed, framing his jawline which in return gives it an even more sharper look. 

While you two remain hand in hand, Ellaria makes the introductions. Oberyn’s thumb smooths down your inner writs. A shiver rolls down your spine. “It is very lovely to meet you,” he says earnestly. 

“Likewise.” 

Oberyn picks up the unlit joint Ellaria had left on the coffee table before she went to greet him. You see a faint sparkle in his eyes. “You two were smoking?” he asks, turning to Ellaria. 

“To relax the nerves, my love,” she answers with a playful smile. “Help yourselves, I’ll be back in a minute.” 

You feel as if someone poured cold water over your head, “Maybe I can help?” you take a step forward, intent on following her to wherever she was going—which you assume is the kitchen. But she stops you with the raise of her hand. 

“Please, I’ll be right back. In the meanwhile you two get acquainted.” 

A second later it’s just you and Oberyn alone in the living room. He seems unbothered and lights the joint as he takes a seat. There’s a certain air of expertise and elegance in whatever he does. He pats the cushion next to him, “Sit.”

You sigh softly, collapsing next to him. He flicks the lighter and leans towards the tiny flame, his eyes fixed on the empty threshold. He takes two quick exhales, the tip of the joint burning a bright orange. Smoke pours from the corners of his lips. You’re mesmerized by the sight of him. Shadows dance over his face, giving him a dark look. 

“How do you two know each other?” he asks, snapping you away from your thoughts. 

You blink, momentarily lost in his gaze, before extending your hand to take another drag from the joint. Your fingers feel slightly numb as you bring it to your lips. "She's a friend of my dad's," you explain, your voice barely above a whisper. "We've known each other for a while."

Oberyn nods, his fingers gently brushing the back of your neck, sending tingles down your spine. Your breath catches in your throat, and you find yourself leaning closer to him, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

“What about you?” you ask, hating the way your voice trembled.

A soft smile plays on his lips. His thumbs continue their soothing caress on the back of your neck, tracing delicate patterns that send a shiver of pleasure through your body. 

"She walked into my lecture one day," Oberyn begins, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "I was talking about the ancient civilizations of Essos, and there she was, her eyes filled with curiosity. After the lecture, she approached me with such confidence, asking questions that sparked my own curiosity. I learned that she was an artist and she was lacking inspiration. She thought a trip to the past would spark something in her." he says blissfully. “And spark it did.” 

“You’re a professor?” 

He hums, elevated by your intrigue, “Yes, but I do prefer excavating and traveling to new sites.” he explains, his voice tinged with a hint of longing. "It's much more freeing, rather than being trapped between four walls." 

His words wash over you like a gentle caress, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, craving more of his warmth. The joint burns low between your fingers, forgotten for a moment. With a jolt of panic, you extend it back to him. 

Oberyn's voice lowers even further, a velvet murmur that tickles your ear. "She's a remarkable woman, isn't she? So full of life and passion."

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you find yourself nodding, captivated by the combination of his words and the tender touch of his thumbs on your skin. "Yes, she is," you reply. 

“You like her,” Oberyn says, a statement, rather than a question. You’re horrified by the implication of it. Your lips part and close, words failing to come out. His sudden burst of laughter makes you jump. “Do not look so worried, I’m not here to judge you. I appreciate anyone who sees her for the gorgeous woman that she is.” 

His fingers find purchase under your chin, he lifts your gaze, dark eyes boring into yours. You forget how to breathe. With a soft smile, Oberyn brings the joint to his lips and takes a deep inhale, You can hear the sizzle of it, and feel the heat that radiates from the crimson tip. Your lips part by instinct, he leans closer. 

Oberyn fills your lungs with delicious smoke. Your lips never touch, yet you swear you can feel them pressed together. He breathes life into you and when it’s all done, he licks himself deep into your mouth. Pressing deeper, Oberyn flattens his tongue against yours and nips your bottom lip. Sweat drips from your spine and gathers at your tailbone. His hands affectionately cradle your face, inhaling you one last time, he breaks the kiss. 

You’re a panting mess, your lips tingling for more. 

“Take off your clothes.” 

Your eyes go wide, “I—Excuse me what?” slightly inching forward, you stare into his eyes. “Ellaria is right down the hall, wouldn’t it be. . . rude?” 

That sparks an amused chuckle from him. “You’re adorable,” he muses. “I promise you that she wants this as much as I do.” 

“She. . . does?” 

“Ellaria adores you. She also enjoys sharing her favorite things with the one’s that she cares for,” his fingers curl around your throat and you swallow. Oberyn tilts your head to the side. “Now, let me see you.” 

And this is the part where your insecurities make an ugly appearance. You avert your gaze, hugging yourself while Oberyn continues to stare. You want to do this. You absolutely do, if the slick gathering in your underwear is any indication, but it’s still hard for you to believe that he wants to. 

You feel the bite of his nails and bring your gaze back to him. You’re not sure what does it, but you find yourself scrambling off of the couch. You don’t see not one ounce of a lie in those eyes—you only see lust and intrigue. Besides, you came here to loosen up, what better way is there to do that than making out with a handsome stranger? 

When you’re left only in your bra and underwear, Oberny pulls you to his lap and you let out a soft gasp. He unclasps your bra and throws it over the small pile of clothes you had left behind, leaving you only in your, visibly soaked, panties. 

“Oberyn. . .” 

You jolt at the soft lilt of Ellaria’s voice. You stiffen over the older man’s lap, not knowing what to do. With a smile, he draws soothing circles over your thighs. 

Ellaria takes a seat next to you two. You’re too flustered to look at her but despite not looking, you see the delicate curl of her lips. 

“She’s too beautiful not to touch,” Oberyn drags his nose down your neck, and you smile giddily. Your heart beating a mile a minute. “Don’t you agree with me, Ellaria?” 

Her tongue swiping over her bottom lip, she reaches out and holds your breast, weighing it with her palm. She brushes a thumb over your pebbled nipple, a soft whine parts your lips. “I do.” 

“You think I’m beautiful?” 

“Of course, love. Why would I not think you are beautiful?” 

You grow silent. Ellaria’s fingers dances along your arm and heat settles in your core. Oberyn, with a curious gaze and a half smile, drags his thumbs down to the soft contours of your stomach rolls and gently pinches. You whine, sticking your bottom lip out, you look away from them both. 

“I think I have an idea why she thinks like that,” he hums. Ellaria’s gaze drops to where Oberyn’s hands rest, meaning your stomach. Your cheeks burn. Her eyebrows raised, you feel the weight of her gaze locked onto your face, but still, you refuse to look at her. Or him. “She lives in a cruel world that makes her think she’s anything but desirable. But we see her for what she is.” 

“And what’s that?” you mutter, embarrassed to be read so easily. He was right, you never thought of yourself as being desirable, even if you desperately wanted to. There were mornings you just woke up hating yourself, staring into the mirror and poking endlessly at your face and observing every imperfection. You’re tired of it. Tired of thinking of yourself as less. Which is one of the reasons why you came here. Why your dad wanted you to spend time with Ellaria, he knew the woman had ways of making you feel better. 

Oberyn's firm yet gentle grasp on your chin draws your attention, anchoring your gaze and shifting your focus solely to him. His smile is wide and predatory, like a snake. You tremble as his hands slide from your stomach to your waist, their scorching touch and commanding presence stirring a primal reaction within you.

“You’re a gorgeous girl,” he answers with a melodic lilt from his sinful tongue. “The type of girl we want to ravish for as long as you’re staying here.” 

“If you want to, of course,” Ellaria adds, playfully pinching your nipple. Your eyes flutter closed. The sudden mixture of pleasure and pain makes your skin tingle pleasantly. “Do you, little one?” 

You nod. Everything that’s happening feels like a fever dream. The scent of cannabis is still heavy in the air, making you feel soft and slow like molasses. Ellaria’s fingers dance along your nape, nimble fingers sliding into the roots of your hair, she gently tugs. Meanwhile, Oberyn nips at the soft skin of your neck. 

“Words, love.” Ellaria commands. 

“Yes,” you breathe out, voice shaking. “I want to. . . if you guys want to.” 

Oberyn whispers, “Good girl,” against your skin, and a wave of dizziness engulfs you. The two devour with the ways they touch and bite. Ellaria’s lips melt into your own as Oberyn cups both your breasts, kneading the soft mounds. 

Kissing Ellaria had been a fantasy you frequently indulged in over the years and you’re pleasantly surprised to realize she tastes like cherries and roses. You have endless memories of slipping your hand between your legs as soon as you were in the privacy of your room. You always had a feeling that she knew. Her gaze too observant, too cunning not to see the thoughts lingering in your head. 

Oberyn lowers his head and lifts your breasts to his mouth. He laves his tongue over your nipples hungrily. A wanton moan echoes in the back of your throat, your head falls as you part away from Ellaria. You hear her chuckle. “You taste sweet,” she comments, making you keen. “Despite the smoke Oberyn blew into your lungs.” 

“You saw that?” 

“You two weren’t exactly being discreet.” 

You’re hot all over, embarrassment pouring over you like summer rain. Oberyn doesn’t seem to care, consumed with the taste of your flesh. Your underwear sticks to your folds and you squirm over his lap. The man groans when you brush his length, you feel him twitch through the soft fabric of his sweats. The blood rush is loud in your ears. 

He feels. . . big. 

“Shit,” you mumble, delving your fingers into his short locks. You tug him closer to your chest and sloppily grind on top of him. You feel the sharpness of his teeth and then—

He bites you. 

With a sharp cry you jerk away, your gaze instantly finding Oberyn’s. The man is grinning from ear to ear. Your heart beats wildly against your ribcage. “What was that for?” you gasp, chest heaving. 

“It was an affectionate bite,” he teases, then presses his lips over the tiny dents. “Did it hurt?” 

“No . . .” you answer, sounding uncertain. “I was just surprised.” 

Ellaria rolls her eyes and tugs Oberyn towards her. The man goes willingly, his wicked smile never fading as she crashes their lips together. You see the pink of Ellaria’s tongue slip between Oberyn’s lips. His hands drop, his thumbs digging into the crease between your thighs and hips. You watch wide-eyed at the way the two devour each other. They’re so earnest, so hungry. It makes you ache between your legs and a bit in your heart. While Ellaria licks herself deeper into his mouth, Oberyn guides the roll of your hips. 

Suddenly struggling about where to put your hands, you place them on his chest. The fabric of his shirt bunches underneath your fingers. Your eyes roll at the delicious caress of his clothed cock. You want to feel more. 

When they part, a string of saliva connects them still. Oberyn grins at her and tilts his head toward you. “She likes the show it seems,” he states. 

With a soft smile, Ellaria turns to you. She cups your cheek and smooths her thumb over your heated skin. Your heart soars. She’s so tender, so soft with you. It makes you dizzy. You never thought someone like her would be interested. And you don’t only say this because of your physical insecurities, you just always felt like she would find you too inexperienced. Too young. You always had this unnecessary fear of sounding dumb when you talked with her. 

“What are you thinking?” she whispers, coming closer. Her hot breath fans your skin as Oberyn flattens his tongue over your neck, dragging the wet muscle up until his nose is firmly pressed against your jaw. 

“I’m thinking that this must be a dream,” you answer. “And I’m thinking how intoxicating you two are.” 

Oberyn’s smile is wide as he pulls away, his eyebrows raised. “Look at that, she found her tongue. How delightful.” 

Ellaria kisses the right corner of your lips and addresses Oberyn. “You’ll scare her, she’s fragile.” 

“I’m not fragile,” you pout. With a laugh, she presses her lips against your jutted lip. “I’m just nervous. . . you know my experiences haven’t been—” You clear your throat, suddenly aware of Oberyn’s eyes on you. “Great.” 

“I know, baby. I know.” 

Obeyn chimes in, his gaze moving to Ellaria, “What does that mean?” 

“Poor girl never came from another hand but her own.” 

“Ellaria!”  

“Oh?” Oberyn’s eyes bore into your own. It’s so intense that you can’t look away, and honestly, you’re not sure that you want to. He pulls down your bottom lip, dipping his thumb into the seam. “You won’t have to worry about that with us, sweet creature.” 

“I’m sure,” you hum, a coy smile playing on your lips. “So can we uh. . . can we take this to the bedroom? I’m not that comfortable on the couch. If that’s okay?” 

“Of course,” Ellaria answers. “Besides I hate how this fabric feels against my skin. So the bed is definitely preferred.” 

Oberyn, without saying a word, nuzzles your neck before pulling you to your feet. You falter, still a bit dazed. Yet, his arm catches you, keeping you from falling. 

“Careful,” he tuts, lips touching your forehead. 

Oberyn’s arm never leaves your waist as Ellaria guides the two of you through the hallway of her home. A route you don’t doubt Oberyn has taken many times before.

You aren’t sure what to expect when you enter Ellaria’s room. It’s quite neat, the bed quite big, which doesn’t surprise you in the least. 

Ellaria looks at you with a smile, curling her fingers around the elastic of your underwear, she tugs you close. Oberyn looms right behind you, he hadn’t closed the door as he entered. His cock hard and aching, resting between the crease of your clothed ass cheeks. His palms caress the soft mounds, his breath warm and wet against your nape. 

You’re suddenly highly aware that you’re the only one practically naked. Noticing this, heat crawls up your chest and curls around your neck. At any moment you expect to wake up in the familiar setting of the guest room, none of this seems real.

“Lay down, Oberyn,” Ellaria’s voice breaks the silence, her eyes never leaving yours as she addresses her lover. “We’ll join you shortly.” 

“Hmm,” he kisses your neck, your legs shake in response. “Should I take off my clothes?” 

“Yes.” 

Oberyn smiles, gives your ass one last firm squeeze, and retreats. And as much as you want to stare at the man in his full naked glory, it’s hard to pull your gaze away from Ellaria. You hear the bed creaking under the man’s weight. Still, you don’t turn to look. Ellaria kneels before you, tugging your underwear along with her. Her hands, despite not being large as Oberyn’s, feels all consuming. They languidly slide above your calves and thighs as she raises to stand on her feet once more. 

When she stands, you make a move to take off her garments but she gently pushes your hands back. “You watch,” she says, pulling off the straps of her dress and allowing it to pool at her ankles. 

You touch her like art. Soft and slow. Almost as if she wasn’t there. You cup her waist and skim your palm until you reach the side of her breast, in which you hold tenderly under your hand. A soft gasp leaves her and you look at her with shock and amazement. You bend forward, closing your lips around the tender nipple. You swirl your tongue around the areola, her eyes fluttering as she lets out a sigh. 

“That’s nice,” she says, looking at you between heavy eyelids. “You don’t need to be shy with us.” 

If it were anyone else saying that you wouldn’t have believed them, “I think you’re right,” you whisper, more to yourself rather than her. “You’re sure you don’t mind me being. . . timid?” 

Her brows furrow with confusion, her gaze searching your own as your thumb continues to dance over the darker patch of skin. Then you see it, the recognition flashing in her eyes. She might’ve forgotten, but you remember her talking about how much of a bore it was to be with unsure people. Timid, as she had put it. Which is something you’re being right now—you think.  

Your eyes find Oberyn’s from above her shoulder. It’s a fleeting moment. But he seems to be eating you both with the darkness of his eyes. Your heart skips a beat. Ellaria’s hand cradles the back of your neck, gently tightening her grip. When your gaze moves back to her, you see that she’s smiling. 

“I didn’t mean you when I said that,” she answers. “You lack confidence, there’s a difference. And I doubt you’ll be holding yourself back after regaining it.” 

“You don’t think I’m boring?” 

“I don’t,” leaning in, she drags her nose over yours, soft lips only an inch away. “Let’s not keep Oberyn waiting.” 

When you both turn, you see that Oberyn is softly touching himself. Fingers teasingly moving up and down his impressive length. You clench your teeth, arousal overwhelming every orifice of your body. “How should we do this?” he asks, eyes on Ellaria. 

Grinning, she gently nudges your shoulder with her own, you can’t stop staring at Oberyn however. He’s all lean muscle, the extra padding making him look fit. The coarse dark hairs lead a path from his softened stomach to his pulsing cock. Noticing your gaze, he wraps a hand around himself and starts to fuck his fist with hard strokes. He watches with delight at the way you lick your lips when a bead of precome appears on the tip. 

“Would you want to taste him?” Ellaria’s lips touch your ear. 

An awkward chuckle bubbles from your chest, “Am I being that obvious?” 

“Only slightly.” 

She guides you to the bed, and you take your place between Oberyn’s legs while Ellaria is more to the side. His hand instantly finds the side of your face, thumb tugging at the corner of your lips as he stares at you with a softened gaze. 

“Needy,” he murmurs. “I’m going to enjoy playing with you, little one.” 

You feel your pupils physically expanding. Ellaria drags her nails down your scalp, you purr at the sensation. “He likes it when you go slow,” she informs. “Start at the tip and drag your tongue down, he likes being teased.” 

With an urge to please, you do exactly as she says. First, you swirl your tongue around the bulbous head, his thighs stiffen, then you flatten your tongue and move down. The moan that comes from him is unfiltered and loud. Slick gushes between your legs. 

“Good girl,” he gasps. “You too.” 

It takes you a while to understand what Oberyn means. You only become aware that he was addressing Ellaria when the other joins you, licking a stripe up the other side of his length. You moan as you take the head between your lips, meanwhile, Ellaria closes her lips around the base, sucking the delicate skin. A choked out moan parts his lips, not being able to keep still, his hips stutter, forcing you to take more of him. His width spreads your lips wide. Your eyes water and you feel Ellaria’s tongue as she kisses the skin right under your eye. 

She replaces your lips with her own. You watch in a dazed manner as she takes Oberyn down her throat with practiced ease. His fingers tangle into her curls when she hollows her cheeks, forcing her head down. The sight alone makes you drip for them both. Now feeling even bold, you meet Ellaria’s lips while she’s sucking on the tip. You swear you see a ghost of a grin when she slips her tongue into your mouth. You taste a mixture of them in your mouth, and your head spins. Not wanting to part away, both of you lower yourselves, taking Oberyn between your lips as your tongues struggle to meet around his cock. 

“Fuuuck,” he groans, cock twitching between the pair of lips. You feel his rough fingers moving along your cheek. “You’re doing so well—both of you are,” Ellaria pulls away and winks at you before turning to Oberyn. You take him halfway into your mouth, the tip touching the back of your throat. He makes a sound, burying his head further into the pillows. “If you continue doing that I’m going to come.” 

The sound of his voice lights a flame in you, the strokes of your tongue becoming more wild and eager. You swallow around him, over and over, until Ellaria pulls you away. 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” you choke out, eyes flitting between the two. “I want you to come,” you then add, jerking him. 

“Oh it is,” he answers with a sly smile. “But before that, I want to see you come undone on my tongue. And my cock.” 

Ellaria feels you shudder as she traces the line of your spine, “Get on all fours,” she says barely in a whisper. 

You do as you’re told. Arousal coils tightly in your stomach, your body burning from the inside out. You’re over-excited. Your breathing coming out in short, rushed pants. Oberyn gets behind you as Ellaria takes Oberyn’s place and pulls you between her delicate thighs. Your one arm instantly curls around one leg as you brace yourself with the other by flattening your palm over the mattress. 

Oberyn’s fingers languidly slide down the curve of your ass and slip two of them into your soaking heat with ease. You melt into the touch, your elbow immediately giving way and falling. Without thinking much you kiss the inside of Ellaria’s thighs, sucking and nipping her ample flesh. Oberyn begins to thrust his fingers in and out. Your walls flutter around the digits, your body growing tenses. 

“So wet,” he approves. “You must be very excited.” 

“F-Fuck, I am,” you whimper, attempting to meet the thrust of his fingers. 

He scissors his fingers and curls them, applying pressure to a delicate spot deep inside. A jolt of electricity rushes over you. Your body engulfed in a crackling heat. 

“Taste her,” he says. “Aren’t you curious?” 

Instead of answering, you meet Ellaria’s gaze before pressing your lips into her cunt. You moan into her, and she draws up her legs, bracketing you between the inside of her thighs. She cradles the back of your head with both hands, guiding you as you drag your tongue between her folds. She tastes fucking delicious. You love this, love giving her pleasure. With a hum, you close your lips around her aching clit and suck. Hard. 

Her body jolts, the bed underneath creaking. Oberyn swears from underneath his breath, and you imagine him staring at Ellaria’s debouched face. You bet she looks beautiful. Nudging the bundle of nerves with the curve of your nose, you tease her entrance with your tongue, slowly pushing in. 

“And you worried you would be timid,” she croaks out, her back arching as she tugs you closer. “Look at you now, my sweet girl doing such a good job in pleasing us.” 

Oberyn’s fingers are replaced with his sinful tongue, heat drips from your spine. Without wanting to, you pull away from Ellaria, moaning loudly between her legs. His tongue delves deeper, kissing your folds and lapping at everything you have to offer. He grazes his teeth and you writhe against him, your lips moving sloppily along the apex of her thighs as you attempt to kiss her. 

His tongue feels too damn long. . . he pushes the soft muscle inside, the mild stretch making your stomach roll. Oberyn is much better at this than you are. No doubt about it. Ellaria only watches as the most sinful sounds escape your throat. He fucks you with his tongue and between thrusts, he manages to flick your clit with the pointed tip. It makes you feral. You’re not even sure what you’re doing anymore. You continue to taste Ellaria, albeit much more sloppily compared to before. You catch her gaze whenever the fog in your head lifts, her lips are parted, eyes half-lidded. 

“I think you’re ready to take me,” Oberyn says, his voice hoarse. 

Before you can answer, Ellaria cups your cheeks, pulling you away from her core. Your chest heaves. She swipes her thumb over your lips, spreading the wetness caused by her cunt. “I want you to pick a word, love.” 

“A word?” you cringe internally at how out of it you sound. They haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re already a mess. 

“A safeword,” Oberyn explains Ellaria’s words further. His hands grip your love handles and squeeze them tenderly, he pulls you back and you feel the warmth of his cock heavy on your ass. 

You think for a minute, your eyes darting around Ellaria’s face and the wall behind her. Your mind is completely empty. Blank. Not even one word comes to mind. 

Oberyn licks his lips, “How about that stoplight system? Green for go, yellow for slow down, and red for stop?” 

Ellaria’s gaze searches your own, and you nod, “That sounds good.” 

“Alright then,” Oberyn purrs, etching closer. He slides his cock between your folds, his hands skimming up your waist. Ellaria continues to hold your face, watching your every expression with interest. Your eyes widen— is she waiting to see your expression when Oberyn enters you? Fuck. Heat blossoms in your chest. “What is your color now?” he asks, hand cupping the back of your neck. 

“Green,” you say with a whimper. 

Oberyn pushes in inch by inch. He stretches you beautifully, only a hint of pain following while he fills you. Ellaria smiles as your eyes roll back, your lips parting with a guttural sound. He feels so good. So deep. When he’s fully sheathed inside, he waits for you to adjust to his size. Your legs shake. You’re barely keeping yourself together. Ellaria slips her thumb into your mouth and you wrap your lips around her diligently.  She hums with approval. 

“Does she feel good?” Ellaria asks Oberyn. 

“Yes. She feels like she was made for me. Such a perfect hole to fill.” 

You shudder, dripping down his cock and the inside of your thighs. “Oh god—” you choke out, your voice thick. 

Ellaria releases you when Oberyn rocks his hips impatiently. Your cheek drops to her thigh and with a shaky hand, you bring your fingers to her cunt, slowly slipping two of them inside. You know she wasn’t expecting it when her head snaps back. You can’t help the little smile that graces your lips. Her heat consumes you. Oberyn’s thrusts become faster, harder, sinking deep into your cunt. And with every stroke of his cock, your fingers go deeper into Ellaria. 

It’s a beautiful mess. 

You’re not sure how thin the walls are, you hope that they’re thick. You mentally apologize to the neighbors if not because none of you are making an effort to keep quiet. Ellaria grinds to meet your fingers, meanwhile, Oberyn’s cock is splitting you into two. His pace is brutal, you feel your skin rippling as his hips snap into you. Honestly, you’re not even trying to move your hand anymore, it’s all Oberyn—So technically, he’s fucking two people at once. 

Suddenly you find yourself being shoved into Ellaria’s delectable cunt, Oberyn pushes you down, blunt nails biting into your scalp. With a groan, you once again close your lips around her clit and suck. You swirl your tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves, then gently —almost fearfully due to the harsh grind of Oberyn’s hips— you graze your teeth. 

Ellaria cries out, a sound that takes you by surprise. Between wet eyelashes, you watch as her face contorts in pleasure, her walls squeezing your fingers tight. Her clit throbs against your tongue and just like that, she’s gushing heavily into your mouth. Oberyn’s movements slow, his brutal pace becoming a lazy one as his cock massages your walls. You have a feeling he’s watching her as well. 

Noticing that she’s crying out both your names, your pulse quickens. 

You pull out your fingers and hold her hips, wet streaks glisten on top of her sun-kissed skin. Burying your mouth deep within her folds, you allow your tongue to lick the remains. Another, more gentle, orgasm washes over her, the cries from before becoming sighs of languid pleasure. 

“Good girl,” Oberyn growls, his hand becomes a necklace around your neck and he hauls you up. He shoves his lips against your ear, the tremor of his voice making you tremble. “You know, I’ve never seen her come quite that hard with the others. She must like you a lot, pet.”

fuckfuckfuck 

The way he rolls his tongue as he says it, pet—you don’t expect it to affect you that much but it does, your entire body tenses, his cock easing in and out of you even faster thanks to the way you gush around him. 

“You like that?” 

Shit, he noticed. 

“I—I—” 

He grabs your chin and clashes your lips in a bruising kiss. Oberyn leaves you breathless, your lungs convulse, burning with the lack of oxygen. You taste a hint of yourself on his tongue. 

“Our sweet pet,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re stunning like this, all fucked out.” 

Oberyn kisses you once more then turns to Ellaria with a smile, “I can still taste you on her tongue.” 

“I would think so. She was quite thorough,” she teases, her gaze fixed on you. 

Ellaria touches herself slowly as Oberyn resumes his brutal pace. Wet noises flood the dimly lit room, Oberyn buries his face where your neck meets your shoulder. You feel the softness of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth. Your loins burn. 

Oberyn dangles you on the edge of a cliff. Every time you’re close to your release, he slows his hips into a gentle roll, only to build you up again. Ellaria simply watches, gently drawing tender circles while Oberyn toys with you. Their pet. 

“Please,” you beg. “I want to come.” 

You sound teary and embarrassed. Oberyn kisses your neck. “You have been good,” he murmurs, eyes moving to Ellaria. “What do you say?” 

“Let her come,” she sighs, smiling. “Make it feel good for her, Oberyn.” 

Oberyn makes a sound of eager approval. His one hand slips between your legs as the other grasp your breast, keeping your sweat-soaked body flush against him. His fingers draw tight, quick circles around your clit as he presses into you, hips smacking against your flesh over and over. 

It doesn’t take you long after that. 

Your orgasm hits you like a truck—hell, it hits you like a train. It’s violent, intense. Every muscle grows taut and your skin tingles as if it’s burned. You can’t even cry out properly, your mouth wide in a silent scream. Something warm trickles down your thighs, and if it wasn’t for Oberyn’s constant, steady praise in your ear you would’ve been embarrassed. But instead, you just slump against him. Your body feeling limp as if you might never be able to stand again. He rolls his hips, and each time waves of pleasure wash over you, it’s not as intense, but it feels amazing. 

“That’s it,” he rasps. “I’m going to pull out now, okay?” 

Your nod is followed by a hiss when he does, the sudden lack of him making you feel empty, and frankly, a little bit sad. However, you don’t get the chance to linger on the feeling as Oberyn guides you toward the empty spot next to Ellaria. 

She holds you in a tight embrace, whispering praise into your hair. Oberyn shuffles until he’s behind her, his arm draped over her waist. His cock is still hard and heavy between his legs, glistening with your slick. 

You ask weakly to Oberyn, “What about you?” 

“Always so thoughtful,” Ellaria purrs. She throws her arm back, pulling Oberyn close by the neck. He kisses a delicate path up that follows the curve of her neck. “You don’t need to worry about him. Just relax. . . and enjoy yourself.” 

When Oberyn sinks into her, you understand why Ellaria was so eager to watch your expression. 

You stare into the small bathroom mirror above the sink, the light irritating your eyes. You’re fresh out of the shower, naked, still dripping, the drops warm as it slides down your skin. Ellaria’s reflection comes into view, also naked, her hands delicately moving over your body, examing to see if you’re hurt anywhere. 

“How do you feel?” she asks, satisfied with her examination. 

“I’m fine,” you answer dismissively, still staring at your reflection. You feel detached, your limbs slow and tenderly aching. 

Oberyn squeezes a tub of minty toothpaste over the bristles of your brush and holds your chin. Instinctively, you turn to him. He gently pinches your jaw. You open your mouth. 

He starts to brush your teeth. This man you just met, this man who just railed the ever-living shit out of you. . . is tenderly brushing your teeth. You taste the mint and without meaning to, you wrinkle your nose. He laughs. 

“It’ll be over soon.” 

The thing that makes you tear up is how delicate they are with you. It’s unexpected. They don't think you’re invincible just from your looks. They see that you’re broken, see that you want to be taken care of.  And they humor you, treating you as you wish to be treated, without you having to say so. 

They touch you as if you are a glass rose. It makes your chest ache. 

“I think I have ointment somewhere,” Ellaria mutters to herself, turning on her heel and looking over the shelves. “It will soothe your skin.” 

The small sniffle you make goes unnoticed by Ellaria but not Oberyn. With a raised eyebrow, he pulls out the toothbrush. “Rinse,” he says simply. He turns on the faucet for you and you fill your mouth with water. You swish it around. Then look to him before doing anything else. “Spit.” 

You watch as the foamy water goes down the drain. You straighten back up, watching the reflections that dance in the mirror once more. You feel his eyes on you but you’re too flustered to answer his gaze. Ellaria holds a small container of ointment, when she sees your expression her brows furrow. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” you mumble, not truly knowing the answer yourself. Oberyn opens the faucet again and rinses the toothbrush. After placing it back, he brushes his lips over yours, the gesture sparking life back into your body. “I don’t know,” you then say. “It just feels all so nice, I’m not used to. . . I don’t know, sorry.” 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Ellaria says, opening the small container. She takes a hefty amount with two fingers and rubs it into the tender skin of your asscheeks. “It’s normal. You haven’t been feeling well lately, and it’s common to feel a bit of a drop after.” 

“Is it really?” you ask. 

Oberyn answers you instead, “It is. You’ll feel much better when we’re back in bed when you’re between us.” 

Ellaria nods and you manage to smile. With a soft chuckle, you shake your head. “You two are too nice to me.” 

“The bare minimum shouldn’t be surprising you this much,” Oberyn’s gaze softens. “But we’ll fix that.” 

As the two guide you back to the bedroom, you believe they will. 

[supernaturalgirl20]

Little Lamb

Pairings: Oberyn Martell x f!reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, creepy behaviour, dark au, angst, sexual acts are mentioned, being drugged, fear, shy timid reader (for now).

Summary: You’ve been kidnapped by the head of the Martell family as he seeks his revenge. What you don’t know is that he already has a soft spot for you.

A/N: the updates are gonna be short but I’m hoping to have two parts posted a week, all going well. I'm still getting back into the swing of writing after my nan passing so bare with me.

Series Masterlist

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

The air was damp. 

That’s the first thing you notice as you startle awake. A musty smell infiltrates your senses as you suck in a breath. Your head feels heavy and the room spins a little as you slowly open your eyes. 

It was small, too small to be considered an actual room and the stark lack of furniture or windows, made it feel more like a cell. The cot creaked below you as you slowly sat up and looked around. The thin blanket pooling around your waist. Where the fuck were you?

“Ah, you're awake. Good. Thought I might have given you too much and accidentally killed you. And that wouldn’t do at all.” His voice echoed throughout the room and the pain in your head throbbed harder behind your eyes. 

“You drugged me,” you stuttered, your body shaking violently as the cold air chilled you to the bone. The man, whose hair was tied back, stood towering over you with a devilish smirk on his face. 

“That I did, princess. You were trashing about too much, and I needed to get you here fast.” His eyes trail the length of your body and bile rises in your throat as he lets out a satisfied groan. 

“Aren’t you a pretty thing? Can think of loads of things I’d like to do to you.” You're consumed with fear as he steps closer and you push yourself further up the cot towards the wall, hoping somehow it would save you from his lewd gaze. 

“Please,” you plead as he bends down and reaches out his hand to trace his fingers along your jaw. 

“Please what? Fuck you? Grab your face and shove my dick down your….”

“Enough!” You startle as a deep baritone voice sounds from the doorway, sending a shiver down your spine. You let your eyes drift towards the man, and you recognise him from earlier. You don’t think you’d ever be able to forget those soulful brown eyes that reminded you of a hot cup of coffee on a cold morning. 

 His face is stern as he stands staring at the other man’s back, his fists clenched at his sides. “Get out. Now!”

As you turn your gaze back to the man in front of you, you find him staring at you, a look of pure hatred on his face. He huffs. Annoyed that he was interrupted but he stands up and nods his head at the other man before leaving. 

“Here,” brown eyes says as he hands you, his jacket. “Put it on. You look cold.” The features of his face have softened somewhat, and his eyes take you in as you reach out and take it from him. 

“Tha-thanks,” you stammer, the cold air of the damp room making it hard to talk. It’s miles too big but it’s warm and that’s what matters. Wrapping it around yourself you take in a deep breath as its warmth slowly seeps into you, the faint smell of cinnamon and strawberries fills your senses, and you wonder if this is what he smells like.

“Do you know who I am?” He asks as he stands above you, arms crossed over each other, legs shoulder width apart, oozing dominance. He must be the leader you think to yourself as you take him in. 

He’s very handsome. 

Dark hair that curls slightly at the nape of his neck. A slight beard with a moustache that seems slightly outdated, but he wears it well. And his eyes.

 Those brown orbs that seem to captivate you, remind you of the whiskey your father drinks. “Do you know who I am?” He asks again, voice laced with annoyance as he stares down at you. 

Gulping nervously, you shake your head and you know you’ve said the wrong thing when he narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t know who I am? Interesting. Unfortunately for you, I know who you are. Y/N Lannister. Daughter of Tywin Lannister.”

“What do you want from me? Why am I here?” You ask, voice still a little shaky. Your eyes follow him as he moves around the room, widening in shock as he sits on the cot beside you. His eyes trace the length of your curves before they meet your gaze. 

“Your father took something from me. Something precious that I can never get back and so I’ve repaid the favour by taking something from him. You. I admit you’re not who I was hoping for, but turns out, you are even more precious to him than your sister.”

“I don’t understand, what did he take? Please, I don’t know what he did but you have to let me go. I’m not like them, I promise.” 

He laughs. A deep belly laugh that has him holding his hand to his stomach and it makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. You reach out and place your hand on his thigh but the minute your palm touches him, you instantly regret it. 

His laughter stops and his eyes narrow as his gaze drifts to where you're touching him. Fear creeps in again and as you try to pull your hand away, he grabs onto your wrist. 

“Don’t. Ever. Touch. Me. Again.” He snarls, his eyes boring into you and you nod your head frantically.

“I’m sorry. Please,” you beg as you try to pull your wrist free. His grip only tightens, and your breathing becomes ragged causing his eyes to drift to your chest where his jacket has fallen open, revealing the curve of your breast. His eyes darken as they stare at your pebbled nipples, now on full display through your dress. 

“Please, you’re hurting me.” The sound of your voice pulls him from his thoughts, and he quickly releases you as if he’s been burned. His face, now void of emotion, looks straight at you. 

“I’m hurting you. That was nothing, little lamb. But you touch me again, and I’ll show you what I’m capable of.”

He stands, towering over you once again and you can’t help but shake with fear. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be. Your father murdered my sister and her children and if he doesn’t give me what I want, I’m going to kill every Lannister, starting with you.” With that he turns and makes his way towards the door but when a sob escapes your lips he stops in his tracks.

 His shoulders tense beneath his dark shirt and he glances at you from over his shoulder. “I’m not in the habit of hurting women, so if you do what you're told, you’ll be fine.”

“Funny, considering you just threatened to kill me,” you snipe back at him, and you swear you see the hint of a smile on his face before he reaches for the door. 

“Behave little lamb, and I’ll let you out of this room. Don’t, and you’ll stay here to rot.” The door closes behind him with a bang before you hear the faint sound of the lock. Fuck!

Your father killed his sister? You don’t believe it. He wouldn’t do such a thing. Or would he?

Part 2

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @hungrhay @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @tusk89 @graciexmarvel @pedrostories @musings-of-a-rose @untitledarea @your-voice-is-mellifluous @majestyjade @avengersfan25 @hummelmia @angstismydrug

[theetherealbloom]

AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 5 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Five: Witness The Wreckage Of My Life

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack,

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: Hi there! Tbh I thought no one would read this fic lol that’s why it’s been in the backburner for monthssssss. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Hurt by Sleeping At Last

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

MAIDENVAULT, GUEST CHAMBERS 

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — EARLY MORNING

The faint chirping of birds drifted into your consciousness before you felt it—fingertips brushing gently along your arm, tracing the curve of your skin with a soft, languid motion. A slow inhale filled your lungs as your eyes fluttered open, the room around you coming into focus. The unfamiliar surroundings of Oberyn Martell’s chambers. 

Your breath hitched, and your body stiffened as realization dawned on you. Oberyn’s body was warm and close beside you, his arm draped loosely over your waist. Panic seized your chest, thoughts racing faster than you could process them. You quickly glanced down. Your nightgown was still on, but that didn’t stop the rush of anxiety building in your throat.

Did we…? Oh gods, what did I do?

Oberyn stirred beside you, his dark eyes opening lazily as a slow grin spread across his lips. He didn’t move away, though his hand continued its lazy tracing of your skin. “You treat it as if sleeping with me would be the worst thing in the world,” he chuckled, his voice deep and teasing. “Many people line up for the privilege of getting into bed with me.”

You rolled your eyes, your heart pounding still. “Oberyn—” you started, your voice strained with embarrassment, but then you paused, the tension rising again as you remembered who you were. A servant. And here you were, lying in the bed of a prince.

Your stomach twisted with guilt as you quickly tried to sit up, but Oberyn’s arm tightened around your waist, preventing your escape. “I… I shouldn’t be here,” you stammered, fumbling with the covers as you tried to get out of bed. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Stop,” Oberyn said, his voice gentle but firm, his hold on you unwavering. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart raced faster, your mind protesting even as your body relaxed against his touch. “I shouldn’t be calling you by your name,” you said, the propriety drilled into you for years clawing its way to the surface.

Oberyn chuckled again, his grip remaining strong as he turned you slightly so you could meet his gaze. “We are far past proper,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a playful smile. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

You stared at him, your cheeks burning with the mix of emotions swirling inside you. The absurdity of the situation, the intimacy, the way he seemed so unbothered while you could hardly keep your composure.

And then it happened—a laugh bubbled up from your chest, unbidden and uncontrollable. The sound escaped your lips before you could stop it, surprising even yourself. It was a laugh that hadn’t surfaced in years, a genuine, melodic sound that filled the space between you and Oberyn like music.

He stilled, his eyes widening slightly as he looked at you, captivated. There was something in his gaze you hadn’t seen before—something soft, something tender. He let out a low hum, as if savoring the moment. “You should laugh more often,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in years.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks again, this time not from embarrassment, but from the way his words lingered in the air. Oberyn’s smile softened, and his hand moved up to gently cup your cheek. “I’d kill armies of a thousand men to hear that laugh again.”

His words were spoken with such conviction that for a moment, you almost believed he would. The truth of his promise hung in the air, pulling at something deep inside you. But you quickly smothered that feeling, pushing it down before it could surface.

“I don’t think Ellaria would be so pleased to hear such a statement from you, your grace,” you said, forcing a teasing tone into your voice, hoping to deflect some of the tension. 

A smirk tugged at Oberyn’s lips as he pinched your side playfully, making you squirm under his touch. “You’re using titles again,” he said, his aquiline nose brushing against yours, a soft, teasing gesture that made your breath hitch. “We’ve already discussed this—no ‘grace,’ no ‘proper.’” His eyes gleamed mischievously. “And Ellaria? She knows. She’s out enjoying herself at the brothels right now, likely tangled with a lover of her own. We have an understanding.”

His words were casual, delivered with a smile, but they landed like a stone in your chest. Your heart sank, a dull ache forming where only moments before there had been warmth. Of course, Ellaria knew. Of course, they both had other lovers. That’s how it always was with people like him, free and untethered. You were just another fleeting moment.

You swallowed the sudden rush of feelings and buried them deep, plastering on a faint smile to hide the sting. “Of course,” you said, your voice steady despite the tightness in your throat. “You both live quite... freely.”

Oberyn’s eyes flickered, his smile softening as if he sensed the shift in you. His hand moved from your waist to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Don’t misunderstand,” he said quietly. “I take many lovers, yes. But none like you.”

Oberyn’s words lingered in the air, pulling at you with a subtle, intoxicating pressure. The way he so effortlessly drew you into his orbit—without even a kiss exchanged between you—made it hard to remember where you stood. His lips grazed your forehead again, soft and warm, sending a shiver down your spine. For just a moment, you let yourself forget the distance between your lives, the dangers lurking in every corner of King’s Landing.

But you didn’t dwell on the meaning of his words, or the fact that he had practically claimed you as his without any physical bond. It felt dangerous, even foolish, to hold on to such fleeting warmth in a world that offered little safety.

Oberyn pulled away, giving you a long, lingering squeeze before he stood, his movements unhurried as he dressed in the dim morning light. His tunic draped over his broad shoulders, his belt fastened with the casual elegance only someone like him could manage. You sat up, the sheets pooling around your waist as you watched him, torn between the urge to stay hidden in the folds of the night and the reality of the day ahead.

"I have a meeting with the Small Council," Oberyn said, fastening his leather bracers with nimble fingers. His tone was light, almost conversational, but there was something in his eyes that made you feel as though he was gauging your every response. "I suppose you'll be coming too, to be nearby? Or do you want me to tell you what I've learned later?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, teasingly. “And how will you find me later to tell me such important news?”

He paused in the middle of tying his belt, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, I have my ways.” He rounded the bed, leaning down as his lips pressed against your forehead once more, this time with a lingering softness that made your heart stutter. "Remember the day of Joffrey’s wedding?" he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "I found you setting up by the Sept, looking flustered as ever." 

Heat rushed to your cheeks at the memory, the sight of him approaching you on that fateful day etched in your mind. You bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide, your face betraying you anyway.

Oberyn chuckled as he straightened, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "You were adorable then. You still are," he said, stepping back toward the door. "I’ve asked for breakfast to be left by the door. Help yourself to whatever you like. You must have been tired; you didn’t even notice when I brought it in while you were still sleeping."

Your heart gave a small flutter as he moved to the door, giving you one last look before pulling it open. “Be sure to eat,” he added, his voice softer now, the door closing behind him with a quiet click.

And just like that, the room felt empty again, save for the fading scent of him and the quiet remnants of your own thoughts, still spinning from the morning's encounter. 

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — AFTERNOON

The day had taken on a surreal quality since you’d left Oberyn’s chambers. The fact that nothing happened, and yet everything had changed, weighed on you. You had snuck out, slipping back into your long-sleeved servant gown as though it could shield you from the memory of the man whose side you now found yourself on. A part of you felt guilty, as though you’d crossed a line, even though no line had truly been crossed.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you busied yourself with the day’s tasks, the monotonous routine serving as a distraction. Cleaning, fetching, ensuring every corner of the Red Keep was prepared for the endless parade of courtiers and nobles. Your mind was on everything but the day’s duties. It was hard to ignore the shift within you—the knowledge that Oberyn was on your side. That he believed in your quest for justice, or perhaps vengeance. It was a dangerous alliance, but one that filled you with a strange sense of hope.

The sun had begun its slow descent when you found yourself alone in a secluded hallway, carrying a basket of linens. You were just about to return to your duties when you heard a soft clink, followed by another. Glancing toward the window, you spotted Oberyn, standing in the courtyard below, tossing pebbles at the window with a mischievous grin. His eyes sparkled with amusement when your gaze met his.

For a heartbeat, panic seized you—what if someone saw? But the corridor was deserted, and no guards or servants were in sight. Oberyn motioned for you to join him, his grin widening as you hesitated.

Setting down the basket, you quickly made your way outside to the gardens where he waited. His presence seemed to fill the space, larger than life as always. The scent of freshly bloomed flowers hung in the air, and the sound of the fountains provided a soothing backdrop to the moment.

“I didn’t expect you to be so bold,” you said, handing him a small loaf of bread and some fruit you’d tucked away earlier.

Oberyn accepted the food with a wink. “I promised I’d find you later, didn’t I?” He tore off a piece of bread and took a bite. “Besides, I’d rather be here with you than dealing with the Small Council any longer.”

Your curiosity piqued, you glanced at him as you both strolled through the gardens. “What happened in the meeting?”

He took a deep breath, stretching his arms before speaking. “A lot of posturing and little else. They discussed the trial, of course, but also news from the east. Daenerys Targaryen is in Meereen now, ruling as queen. Tywin thinks the dragons won’t be a problem, but he’s too proud to see the threat for what it is.”

“Dragons?” you asked, handing him a piece of fruit. “Do you really think they could pose a threat to the throne?”

Oberyn gave a half-shrug, though his eyes were serious. “Dragons haven’t won a war in centuries, but Daenerys has an army—Unsullied, sellswords, and advisors who are no fools. Tywin’s dismissing her, but the girl is no simpleton.”

His casual mention of dragons and armies made your heart race. The idea of such power was overwhelming, but Oberyn seemed unfazed by it. He continued recounting the meeting, filling in every detail as though it were simply gossip from a tavern, not the strategic planning of the most powerful people in Westeros.

"They even discussed the Hound," he added, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Apparently, he's out there somewhere, swearing at the crown and slaughtering men. Tywin's offering a hundred silver stags for his head now."

You couldn’t help but smile at Oberyn’s nonchalance. “And what about you? Did you offer your expert opinion?”

He grinned, recalling the way he had brought up the Unsullied with the council. “I told them how impressive the Unsullied are in battle. Less so in the bedroom, though.”

Your eyes widened in shock, but you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. “You didn’t…”

“Oh, I did,” he replied, his smile growing wider. "Tywin wasn’t amused. But Varys—he found it interesting. We had a chat afterward. He’s a strange one, isn’t he?"

“Varys? I wouldn’t know,” you said with a shrug. “He doesn’t speak to people like me.”

Oberyn’s gaze softened. “You’d be surprised. He listens more than you think. Just like I do.”

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, you sat down on a stone bench, enjoying the quiet moment with him. Oberyn leaned against a tree, looking at you with that same intensity you had grown used to.

"Thank you for the food," he said, his voice lower now, almost intimate. "I thought about bringing something for you, but I didn’t know what you’d like."

You smiled, the tension of the day melting away in his presence. “I’m not picky.”

His expression turned playful again as he tossed the last piece of bread into his mouth. "Good. Because I intend to share more meals with you. That is, if you don’t mind.”

The warmth in his eyes was undeniable, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel—contentment. For just this moment, here with Oberyn, you felt at peace.

“You know those moments? Those moments when you’re allowed to like someone? If those moments mean that you’re alive, then how many days do you think I have really lived?” Your voice was soft, nearly swallowed by the rustling of leaves in the nearby garden. Yet, Oberyn heard every word, his gaze unwavering.

He didn’t respond immediately, his expression shifting to something unreadable, a mix of intrigue and concern. His silence invited you to continue, and so you did, despite the heaviness settling in your chest.

You knew how this would end. It was already written in the stars, in the fates that controlled your path. Oberyn would return to Dorne, back to Ellaria, to his daughters, to his life—a life you could never be part of. And you would stay behind, here in King's Landing, with only the memory of this fleeting peace. 

It was bittersweet, knowing you could never truly have him. Yet, the happiness you felt now was real. So real, it almost hurt.

You glance down, watching as the breeze played with the fabric of your dress, the cool air brushing your skin. You’d known from the start that this was temporary. That whatever spark had ignited between you would burn out as quickly as it had begun. And when that time came, you would let it.

Because you would be happy. Finally. You wish to be happy enough that you could die. You want to be happy just by that much.

All of this wouldn’t last, just as this peace would slip through your fingers like sand. The realization settled within you, hollow and aching, but you knew it was the truth. 

Oberyn, unaware of your internal turmoil, reached out, his thumb grazing your jaw, bringing your attention back to him. His touch was warm, grounding you in the present. You looked up at him, the faintest smile playing on your lips, and for once, you let yourself exist in the moment—here, in his embrace, even though you knew it wouldn't last forever.

“You are living now,” he finally murmured, his voice a low, steady hum. “And sometimes, that is enough.”

KING'S LANDING, THE IRON THRONE ROOM – DAY

The trial felt like the closing of a noose, tightening with each step Tyrion Lannister took as he entered the room. For a moment, your breath caught. The Iron Throne room was oppressive today, the tension palpable, thick in the air like the pressure of a storm ready to break. You stood to the side, far enough from the public but close enough to feel the malice that filled the room. 

Tyrion’s face was a mask of calm, though you knew it was a facade. He had always been on trial—his whole life judged for what he couldn’t change. His height, his sharp tongue, his wit that often cut too deeply. The crowd barely concealed their disdain for him, whispers rippling through the chamber like the hiss of a snake.

A door creaked open, and Jaime Lannister entered with Tyrion, the Kingslayer leading his brother to what felt like his doom. Tyrion walked with slow, deliberate steps down the aisle, his chains clinking softly against the stone. 

“Kingslayer!” someone jeered from the crowd, and your heart clenched. How easy it was for them to shout from the shadows. Tyrion’s every move was watched, every breath a crime in their eyes. A part of you pitied him—not for the crimes they claimed he committed, but for the life he had been forced to endure. 

As Tyrion was led to the accused dais, his wrists freed, you cast a glance toward the Iron Throne. Tommen Baratheon sat there, looking far too small for the burden that had been thrust upon him. His grandfather, Tywin Lannister, loomed at his side, a figure of calculated power. To the right of the throne stood Oberyn Martell and Mace Tyrell, both set to judge this farce of a trial.

Tommen rose from his seat, signaling for all to stand. The room echoed with the shuffle of robes and armor as everyone complied, including Margaery, Loras, and Cersei, their faces masks of feigned grace.

"I, Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of my Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, do hereby recuse myself from this trial." His voice wavered, though he tried to sound regal. "Tywin of the House Lannister, Hand of the King, Protector of the Realm, will sit as judge in my stead. And with him Prince Oberyn of the House Martell and Lord Mace of the House Tyrell. And if found guilty... may the gods punish the accused."

Tommen quickly descended from the dais, walking past both Tyrion and Jaime without a second glance. The crowd stirred, uneasy, as Oberyn and Mace Tyrell took their places beside Tywin. Your eyes lingered on Oberyn for a moment—his expression unreadable, though you knew him better. He would play the game today, but his thoughts, you suspected, were far from the politics at hand.

Tyrion stood alone, a figure dwarfed by the grandeur of the hall, but his defiance remained intact. You couldn’t help but admire it, though it would cost him dearly. He looked small, but he commanded the room with nothing more than his presence.

Tywin’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Tyrion of the House Lannister, you stand accused by the Queen Regent of regicide. Did you kill King Joffrey?”

Tyrion’s reply was immediate, almost bored. “No.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed, but he remained calm. “Did your wife, the Lady Sansa?”

“Not that I know of,” Tyrion answered, his gaze unwavering.

“How would you say he died, then?” Tywin pressed, leaning forward ever so slightly.

Tyrion's lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Choked on his pigeon pie.”

A murmur of disbelief and irritation rippled through the room. Tyrion continued, unbothered by the multiple of the stares boring into him. "So you would blame the bakers?" Tywin's voice had a dangerous edge now, but Tyrion remained unfazed.

“Or the pigeons,” Tyrion added with a shrug. “Just leave me out of it.”

Tywin’s gaze turned to ice, his patience clearly wearing thin. “The crown may call its first witness.”

As the room shifted in anticipation, your gaze drifted to Oberyn once more. His expression remained unchanged, but you knew him well enough to sense the amusement lurking behind his eyes. This trial was nothing more than a performance, a game of thrones played on the backs of the innocent and guilty alike.

And you, standing in the shadows, couldn’t help but feel as though you too were being judged—not for crimes you committed, but for your mere existence in this cruel and twisted world.

The load of the accusations hung heavily in the air as Ser Meryn Trant took the stand, his voice dripping with self-righteousness as he recounted his version of events. You stood in the shadows, just beyond the throng of onlookers, your gaze flicking between Tyrion, ever defiant, and the cold, unyielding faces of the judges.

“Meryn Trant,” Oberyn had once called him, “a dog who serves cruelty.” Today was no different. His testimony was venomous, laden with exaggerations designed to paint Tyrion as a monster.

“Once we’d got King Joffrey safely away from the mob, the Imp rounded on him,” Trant declared, his voice rising for dramatic effect. “He slapped the king across the face and called him a vicious idiot and a fool. It wasn’t the first time the Imp threatened Joffrey. Right here in this throne room, he marched up those steps and called our king a halfwit. Compared His Grace to the Mad King and suggested he’d meet the same fate. And when I spoke in the king’s defense, he threatened to have me killed.”

You watched Tyrion’s eyes narrow, the tension building in the lines of his face. His hands twitched slightly, barely restrained as the lies continued to spill from Trant’s mouth. Then, Tyrion spoke, his voice sharp and cutting through the silence like a blade.

“Oh, why don’t you tell them what Joffrey was doing?” Tyrion's voice echoed through the hall, daring anyone to challenge him.

Tywin’s voice, cold as ice, immediately followed. “Silence.”

But Tyrion would not be silenced. His voice rose again, and this time, it was filled with fury, with the truth that no one else dared to speak aloud. “Pointing a loaded crossbow at Sansa Stark while you tore at her clothes and beat her.”

The room gasped collectively, whispers rippling through the crowd like wildfire. You could see the faces of the nobles twisting with confusion, some in disbelief, others in silent acknowledgment. The truth was an ugly thing, one they preferred to ignore.

Tywin’s command rang out, harsher now. “Silence! You will not speak unless called upon. You’re dismissed, Ser Meryn.”

As Trant exited, he shot Tyrion a venomous look, but you knew his words had left an impression. The seeds of doubt were planted, even if only a few dared to show it. 

The oppressive atmosphere in the throne room had only thickened when Grand Maester Pycelle took the stand, his droning voice listing off a litany of poisons that seemed to stretch on endlessly. You could barely suppress your irritation, the corners of your lips twitching in response. Across the room, Oberyn shared your sentiment, leaning back in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he interrupted the Grand Maester.

“I think you’ve made your point, Grand Maester,” Oberyn drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You have a lot of poison in your store.”

You couldn’t help but smirk too, admiring Oberyn's ability to undercut the tension with just a few words. His eyes flickered toward you, the smallest acknowledgment of your shared amusement.

“Had, Prince Oberyn,” Pycelle corrected, his tone defensive. “My stores were plundered.”

Tywin's attention sharpened, his eyes narrowing in on Pycelle like a predator locking onto its prey. “By whom?”

“By the accused, Tyrion Lannister, after he had me wrongfully imprisoned,” Pycelle declared, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd.

The room stirred again, unease rippling through the masses. Tyrion stood there, as composed as he could be under the circumstances, but you could see the frustration seeping into the lines of his face.

“Grand Maester,” Tywin’s voice commanded silence once more, “you examined King Joffrey’s corpse. Was it without question poison that killed him?”

Pycelle gave a solemn nod, as if delivering a final verdict. “Without question.”

The crowd reacted, a low murmur spreading like wildfire. Pycelle reached into his robes and produced a necklace, holding it up for all to see. The glint of the delicate chain caught your eye, and your heart dropped. It was Sansa’s necklace—the one she had worn the day of the wedding.

“This was found on the body of Dontos Hollard, the king’s fool,” Pycelle continued, his voice slow and deliberate. “He was last seen spiriting Sansa Stark, the wife of the accused, away from the feast. She wore this necklace the day of the wedding. Residue of a most rare and terrible poison was found inside.”

Tywin’s eyes darkened. “Was this one of the poisons stolen from your store?”

“It was,” Pycelle confirmed with a nod. “The Strangler. A poison few in the Seven Kingdoms possess. And used to strike down the most noble child the gods ever put on this good earth.”

The murmurs intensified, a wave of collective horror and fascination washing over the crowd. You could feel the tide turning, the accusations tightening like a noose around Tyrion’s neck. And yet, in that moment, as Pycelle’s words rang through the hall, you couldn’t help but wonder who in that room truly believed the lies being spun—and who was merely playing their part.

You stood to the side, concealed in the shadows, watching the spectacle unfold as Cersei Lannister took the stand. Her voice was calm, laced with venom, as she recounted her brother’s supposed threats.

"I will hurt you for this," Cersei declared, her voice cutting through the hushed murmurs of the crowd. "A day will come when you think you are safe and happy, and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth. And you will know the debt is paid."

Her words echoed in the vast hall, casting a chill over the proceedings. You couldn’t help but shudder at the coldness of her tone, the way she wielded those words like a weapon—sharpened and aimed directly at Tyrion.

Mace Tyrell, seated beside Tywin and Oberyn, leaned forward, his voice tinged with curiosity. “Your own brother said this to you?”

Cersei nodded, her face a mask of bitterness. “Shortly before the Battle of Blackwater Bay. I confronted him about his plans to put Joffrey on the front lines. As it turned out, when the attack came, Joff insisted on remaining at the battlements. He believed his presence would inspire the troops.”

Oberyn’s sharp gaze never left Cersei as he interjected, “Tyrion said, ‘And you will know the debt is paid.’ What debt?”

Cersei’s eyes flickered briefly, a flash of something darker beneath her calm demeanor. “I discovered he'd been keeping whores in the Tower of the Hand. I asked him to confine his salacious acts to the brothel, where such behavior belongs. He wasn’t pleased.”

From your vantage point, you saw Tyrion shake his head ever so slightly, a bitter smile curling his lips. It was a performance, all of it—a calculated attempt to paint him as the villain in her twisted tale. The truth, as always, was far more complicated.

Tywin Lannister, ever the stern patriarch, inclined his head. “Thank you, Your Grace, for the courage of your testimony.”

As Cersei stepped down from the stand, you could feel the tension ripple through the room. Her gaze lingered on Jaime for a fraction of a second, their unspoken connection palpable even amidst the disarray of the trial. You watched as their eyes locked, a silent exchange passing between them before she returned to her seat.

Varys, the ever-watchful spider, took the stand next. His presence always unnerved you—his calculating eyes saw too much, knew too much, and yet revealed nothing.

Mace Tyrell spoke first, leaning forward with an air of forced politeness. “Do you remember the precise nature of this threat?”

Varys’ expression remained neutral, his voice soft but clear. “I’m afraid I do, my lord. He said, ‘Perhaps you should speak more softly to me, then. Monsters are dangerous, and just now, kings are dying like flies.’”

A faint murmur spread through the crowd, the tonnage of Tyrion’s words settling in. The tension was palpable. You felt it in your bones, in the way the air seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment.

“And he said this to you at a meeting of the small council?” Mace pressed, as if drawing out the damning words would somehow ease his conscience.

“Yes,” Varys confirmed with a nod. “After we received word of Robb Stark’s death. He didn’t seem gladdened by the news. Perhaps his marriage to Sansa Stark had made him more sympathetic to the northern cause.”

You stood still, listening as the crowd shifted, their whispers swirling around you. Every accusation, every witness testimony felt like another nail in Tyrion’s coffin. The trial was nothing more than a spectacle, a farce to mask the truth, and everyone in the room knew it. But no one would dare say it aloud.

Tywin’s voice rang out once more, commanding the attention of the hall. “You’re excused, Lord Varys.”

Varys, ever the obedient servant, bowed his head and exited the stand with practiced grace. Tyrion’s eyes followed him, his expression a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.

“Father,” Tyrion spoke suddenly, his voice laced with bitterness. “May I ask the witness one question?”

Tywin regarded him coldly. “One.”

Tyrion turned to face Varys, his voice steady but full of accusation. “You once said that without me, this city would have faced certain defeat. You said the histories would never mention me, but you would not forget. Have you forgotten, Lord Varys?”

Varys paused, his gaze unwavering as he responded. “Sadly, my lord, I never forget a thing.”

Tyrion’s face fell, and you could see the force of those words settle on his shoulders. Varys bowed once more and exited the room, his footsteps soft but echoing in the heavy silence that followed.

Tywin, Oberyn, and Mace Tyrell stood, their judgment hanging in the air like a guillotine about to fall. Tywin's voice was cold and final. “We will adjourn for now. Toll the bells in an hour’s time.”

“Clear the court!” the guard called, and the crowd began to disperse, a mass of nobility and onlookers eager to gossip about the day’s events.

You remained where you stood, off to the side, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched the scene unfold. The tension in the room had affected you more than you realized. Unconsciously, your fingers had drifted to your arms, scratching at the scars you had long tried to forget. Only when you felt the dampness of blood seeping through the sleeve of your gown did you stop, the pain a reminder of just how fragile control could be.

Across the room, Jaime and Cersei exchanged another glance, their eyes filled with the weight of a thousand unspoken words. The Lannisters had built their empire on secrets and lies, and it seemed their legacy was unraveling before your eyes.

As the last of the crowd filed out, you looked toward Tyrion. He sat there, dejected and weary, his once sharp gaze dull with the knowledge of how this trial would end. For all his wit and cunning, he was still a pawn in his father’s scheme—a scheme that only seemed to grow bloodier with each passing day.

And you, too, were trapped in this  labyrinth of power and betrayal. The scars on your arms ached, a constant reminder of the past, but also of the future that awaited you in this city of ashes.

Suddenly, a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you out of your daze and through a concealed passage near the edge of the hall. You barely registered the movement until you found yourself in a dim, hidden alcove, the noise of the trial muffled behind the thick stone walls.

Oberyn.

His presence alone was enough to make your heart race, but now, standing this close, away from prying eyes, his gaze burned with intensity. He looked down at you, his lips curving into that familiar smirk, though there was a seriousness in his eyes.

“Spend the afternoon with me,” he murmured, his voice deep, pulling at the knot of tension in your chest. You shook your head, flustered.

“Oberyn, people will see… they’ll talk.”

“Let them,” he said, his tone unconcerned as if the entire court could collapse and he would stand unbothered. “What do I care for their whispers? I care only for you, here and now.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, his words unsettling something within you. “If this is all really that important to you, then…” Your breath caught in your throat as you met his eyes, the boldness of your next words surprising even you. “Then let’s try being romantic.”

His expression shifted, softening as a genuine smile spread across his face. He tugged you deeper into the room, where a small table had been set, food and wine waiting as if he had planned it all along. You sat down, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for a cup of water, needing something to calm the storm of emotions that had begun to churn inside you.

Oberyn, ever perceptive, reached across the table, his fingers brushing over the fabric of your sleeve. You hadn’t even noticed, but his sharp eyes caught the faint stain of blood. His brow furrowed in concern.

“What is this?” he asked softly, lifting your arm gently.

“It’s nothing,” you replied quickly, trying to pull away, but his grip remained firm, his thumb stroking the fabric as if he could soothe away the pain beneath it. “I didn’t even notice—just an old wound.”

His gaze darkened, a rare flicker of something dangerous crossing his features. “Old or new, it matters. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

You laughed nervously, trying to shake off his concern. “I’ve had worse, trust me.”

But Oberyn wasn’t convinced. He leaned closer, his voice low and filled with something deeper than just care. “You’ve bled for this city, for people who don’t deserve you. I won’t let it happen again.”

You swallowed hard, the intensity of his words lingering in the air between you. This was more than just a fleeting moment of tenderness; it was a promise. But promises in King’s Landing were as fragile as the alliances that held the court together. And yet, here, in this quiet room, with Oberyn’s eyes locked on yours, you dared to believe in it—just for a moment.

The silence between you and Oberyn stretched, heavy and thick, as you paced the narrow room. You couldn’t look at him, not when the consequence of your question pressed so deeply into your chest. The words tumbled out, quiet at first but gaining strength with each step you took.

“When you first saw me—before you ever noticed my scars—you didn’t even flinch. You didn’t question what I’ve done, what I’ve had to endure.” You paused, your back to him, fingers tracing the rough stone of the wall. “Why? Why do you trust me so blindly? Why would you do anything for me? What makes you so sure?”

The air felt charged, thick with unspoken truths. You waited, breath caught in your throat, as Oberyn’s gaze bore into you from across the room.

“I’ve told you before,” he began, his voice deep and smooth, like the rich wine of Dorne. “What I feel for you is far more than blind trust. I lived through a season of darkness, of violence. And then I saw you.” His words were measured, each syllable drawn out as if he wanted you to feel them in your bones. “I realized—this woman, you—you are my salvation.”

The words struck you harder than you anticipated, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to face him, meeting his eyes, searching for the flicker of madness or arrogance you had grown used to in the courts of King’s Landing. But instead, you saw only the stark truth.

“At some point,” he continued, rising to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, “one must choose the kind of person they wish to become. I’ve chosen to be your partner in crime. To stand at your side, no matter what may come. It suits me well.”

You took a step toward him, disbelief twisting in your chest. “And what of the others? The whispers… people say you’re mad.”

A smirk danced across his lips as he moved closer, the firelight casting shadows across his sharp features. “Let them say what they will,” he said, his voice rich with the confidence that had always surrounded him like armor. “I plan to live as I choose—even if that means living like a madman.”

He stopped just before you, his hand reaching for yours, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “Let me be mad, so long as it is with you.”

Your breath faltered, caught in the pull of Oberyn’s unwavering gaze. His eyes, dark as the shadows that danced around you, held a promise—one made without words, sealed in the silence between you. Here, in this hidden alcove of King’s Landing, where secrets whispered through every crack in the stone, Oberyn’s reckless devotion felt like the only anchor in a world built on lies and betrayal. The madness that clung to him, the very thing whispered about in the halls of the Red Keep, was the only thing that felt real.

Then, the bell tolled.

The low, resounding chime cut through the stillness, a reminder of the trial that awaited, of the deadly games unfolding beyond this hidden moment. The Iron Throne beckoned. 

“We should go,” you whispered, the significance of duty settling back onto your shoulders like a familiar cloak. Yet even as the words left your lips, part of you wanted to remain in this stolen fragment of time, where nothing but the two of you existed.

Oberyn’s hand lingered at your wrist a moment longer, his thumb brushing against your skin, as if reluctant to let you slip away. “Then let us go,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, “but remember, this madness is ours.”

You nodded, heart heavy with the knowledge of what awaited you both beyond the walls of this room. Together, you stepped out of the shadows and into the labyrinth of power, where every step felt like a descent into the unknown. As you made your way back to the Iron Throne room, the cold walls of the Red Keep felt more oppressive, the air thick with anticipation and unseen eyes.

The crowd had already begun to file back in, and you could feel the tension rise with every step closer to the throne. Oberyn’s presence beside you was like a shield, his gaze steady, even as the treacherous court awaited the next act in this cruel play.

With a deep breath, you entered the chamber, the Iron Throne looming ahead, cold and sharp like the future that awaited. You could still feel the heaviness of Oberyn's promise, unspoken yet burning in your chest, as you took your place beside him once more.

The Iron Throne room was heavy with the scent of judgment, the air thick with the oppressive weight of expectation as you stood off to the side, watching the proceedings with a mix of dread and fascination. The crowd stirred as Tywin, Oberyn, and Mace Tyrell entered, their mere presence enough to command the attention of all in attendance. You, too, were drawn into their orbit, though your vantage point remained deliberately shadowed, a place where you could observe without being seen.

Your eyes flickered toward Jaime and Tyrion as they shared a brief, wordless exchange before Tyrion nodded. The crowd, tense and whispering, settled as Jaime took his position to the side, ever the loyal guard even now. Tywin’s voice cut through the stillness.

“The crown may call its next witness.”

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, and the moment Tyrion turned, his face drained of all composure. Shae. She stepped into view, her posture small, head bowed as if already defeated, but her presence sent a ripple of shock through the room.

Tywin’s voice rang out again, cold and unyielding. “State your name.”

“Shae,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tywin’s question came sharp and unforgiving, “Do you swear by all the gods that your testimony will be true and honest?”

“I swear it.”

You stood still, feeling the tension rise within you as much as it did in Tyrion. Shae, once his secret, now stood against him. What did Tywin have over her? Why betray him now, in front of so many?

“Do you know this man?” Tywin asked, motioning toward Tyrion.

Shae’s eyes flicked to Tyrion, but they were empty, drained of any warmth you might’ve once seen. “Yes. Tyrion Lannister.”

“And how do you know him?”

“I was handmaiden to his wife, Lady Sansa,” she replied. The formality of her words felt rehearsed, distant.

The next question felt like a blade being sharpened, preparing for the killing blow. “This man stands accused of murdering King Joffrey. What do you know of this?”

“I know that he's guilty,” Shae said, her voice louder now, cutting through the hall. The crowd gasped, and you felt your heart lurch.

“They planned it together—he and Sansa,” she continued, and the room erupted with murmurs of disbelief.

Tywin’s booming command of “Silence!” quelled the noise, but inside, you felt the storm brewing. Tyrion’s face was a mask of disbelief, shock twisting his features. You could barely hold your breath, the lies Shae spun as deadly as poison.

“She wanted revenge for her family, and Tyrion was happy to help. He hated Joffrey, the Queen, and even you, my lord.” Her voice dripped with venom, each word a calculated dagger.

You clenched your fists, anger rising within you. You knew these words were false, spun from fear or manipulation. Shae’s lies poisoned the truth, but they were crafted to strike where it would hurt Tyrion the most.

Oberyn, standing near Tywin, raised a brow and asked, his voice cutting through the tension, “How could you possibly know all of this? Why would he reveal such plans to his wife's maid?”

Shae’s voice hardened as she responded, “I wasn't just her maid. I was his whore.”

The murmurs rose again. You could hear the gasps from those seated nearby. The shame, the betrayal, it was all laid bare. Your heart sank with the weight of it, feeling as though the very air around you thickened with judgment. Oberyn, never one to let a moment of discomfort pass without seizing it, looked at Shae but then glanced subtly toward you, a glimmer of mischief in his eye. His lips curled into a small smirk as he asked, “And did you?” His voice was laced with innuendo. “Did you fuck him like it was his last night in this world?”

Your eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the brazenness of his words. Even now, in the midst of this trial, Oberyn’s audacity remained unshaken. He winked at you, and you felt a flicker of surprise, but also something else—a recognition that even in confusion, Oberyn’s attention was always sharp, always focused. You shook your head slightly, hiding the faintest hint of amusement at his lack of propriety.

Shae’s reply came in a voice void of emotion, “I did everything he wanted.”

The crowd erupted once more, laughing at the salacious details. You, however, felt no humor. This wasn’t the truth; it was a distortion meant to strip Tyrion of his dignity, to paint him as something monstrous when you knew better. As Shae’s words continued, painting Tyrion as possessive and cruel, you couldn’t help but feel disgust twist within you. This city, this court—it thrived on the downfall of others.

When Tyrion finally spoke, his voice was filled with a raw, desperate kind of fury. “Shae, please don’t.”

But she continued, relentless, her words carving into him, stripping him of what little humanity he had left to claim in the eyes of those around him. Every word she uttered was another stone thrown, and Tyrion, for all his wit, could do nothing but watch.

As the crowd clamored, you stood, feeling your own heart beating in time with the tension in the room. Tyrion’s next words came like a battle cry, an admission of truth wrapped in bitterness.

“Father, I wish to confess. I wish... to confess.”

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation. The entire room held its breath as Tywin’s voice echoed in response, “You wish to confess?”

Tyrion, no longer defeated but filled with a fire you hadn’t seen in him before, turned toward the crowd, his voice rising. “I saved you. I saved this city and all your worthless lives. I should have let Stannis kill you all!”

The shock rippled through the room, but you could see the righteousness in his anger. His truth, raw and ugly, spilled out for all to hear, and you felt every word cut through the falsity of the trial.

When Tywin asked if he had anything to say in his defense, Tyrion’s response sent a chill through you. “I did not do it. I did not kill Joffrey, but I wish that I had.”

You smirked at the irony of it all, your eyes flicking to Tywin. The calm, calculated facade he wore was slipping, even if only slightly. The cracks in his control were beginning to show. Tyrion’s words, his defiance, had shifted the balance, if only for a moment. You looked at the man who had ordered the death of Princess Elia Martell and thought, You stand on ruins now, Tywin. The walls you’ve built will crumble, and when they do, you will stand alone in the dark.

As Tyrion demanded, “ I will not give my life for Joffrey's murder. And I know I'll get no justice here. So I will let the gods decide my fate. I demand a trial by combat!” The room exploded in chaos, but you stood there, breathless, knowing that this was only the beginning. Tywin’s grip on power was faltering, and you couldn’t help but wonder which one of you would ignite the final spark that brought his empire crashing down.

TAGLIST:

@greenwitchfromthewoods @shessweetsour @christinamadsen