#oberyn Martell x oc

[guiltyasdave]

little lion

pairing: Oberyn Martell x OFC

word count: 394

tags/warnings: alcohol consumption, i think that’s it?

a/n: @catchallfangirl gave me the prompt “finally, something we can agree on”, oberyn and thirty minutes to write. this is the result :)

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

dividers by @plum98 <3

She sips her wine, tuning out her father who is rambling on about uniting houses and how much good it would do for the people of the realm.

It’s not about the realm, let alone the people living in it. She knows it, he knows it, everybody in the room knows it. It’s about power. It’s about the iron throne and ensuring who will sit on it.

The man two tables over from hers catches her wandering gaze and raises his own cup in a quiet toast. As he drinks, he winks at her. She hates the blush creeping up on her cheeks, hates the fact that he can see it, even in the candlelight, if the smug look on his handsome features is any indication. She hates his dark eyes, the glinting of the golden chain around his neck, the way it accentuates the panes of his strong chest, his golden skin, visible through his robe.

She needs some air.

Quietly excusing herself, she rises to her feet and leaves the hall, climbing stairs until she reaches one of the higher floors where the thick stony walls open into big windows, overlooking the city below them.

Lights are twinkling in the darkness of the night, until the city gives way to the ocean, moonlight reflecting off of its surface.

She feels his presence before she hears his quiet steps behind her.

“Prince Oberyn.”

“Hello, little lion.”

Goosebumps form on her neck. He’s closer than she anticipated, she can almost feel his breath on her skin. His voice is low, gravely behind her, his accent wrapping around the pet name. The stupid pet name that he won’t stop using and that sounds way too good from his lips.

“I told you not to call me that.”

He tuts gently, twirling one of the long blonde curls of her hair between his fingers, before giving it a light tug.

“Why did you leave?”

“I was bored.”

It might not be the whole truth, but it’s not necessarily a lie, either. He chuckles, still playing with her hair.

“Finally, something we can agree on.”

She turns her head towards him, eyes searching his. He’s much too close. He gently trails one finger over her cheekbone.

“We shall leave the talking to your father and my brother. Let me walk you to your chambers, little lion.”

thank you for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask. interaction is what keeps writers going <3

[moireia]

lost and led by stars — the titles of alyssa snow

"I’ve been given many titles throughout my life. Bastard, Lady, Princess. I have no desire to add Queen amongst them." —Alyssa Martell, 302 AD (inspo)

taglist ✨: @dragonsbone @lorettastwilight @dio-nysvs @julianblackthcrns @arrthurpendragon @endless-lilach @drbobbimorse @luucypevensie @the-witching-ash @megdonnellys @emilykaldwen @ocappreciationtag want to be added/removed? click here!

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Of Roses and Snakes

pairing: Oberyn Martell x OC!Female!Tyrell

summary: Ella Tyrell gets told what her family had decided against her will. Maybe it was not so bad after all

Word count: 2,5K

Warnings: Angst, fluff, hurt-comfort

Navigation

Ella grumbled annoyed as she rolled over in her bed, the sun had been hitting her face for several minutes by then but she had no energy to move until this moment when a banging on her disturbed her peace even more.

"What?!" She called out harshly. She lifted her head as the doors opened to see who had entered her room. She sighed when she saw Margaery walk into the room already all dressed up and ready to conquer the day and make the boy-king fall for her charm.

"Is it not too early, sissy?" Ella asked, sitting up with a pillow clutched to her chest. Margaery gave Ella and wavering smile, almost looking like a wince. The future queen sat down on the bed beside Ella and reached over to grab her hand, the expression on her face was some sort of apologetic which raised alarms in Ella's head.

"What is it?" Ella questioned curiously, she was not one to fear easily. She laughed in the king's face when he suggested wiping her when she expressed her disgust at the wine they had, apparently that insulted the taste of the mother king. Cersei smirked at Ella seeing her son defend her only for the smirk to be wiped off when Ella burst out laughing, smoothly she recovered and mentioned that she was not one for wine anyways but prefered ale in its stead, that satisfied Joffrey but Cersei hated her guts for that.

"The Queen mother has somehow convinced father of something, sissy" Margaery finally spoke, Ella was half relieved that she was not the only one holding the conversation between the two of them. However the other part of her wondered what queen Cersei had up her sleeve.

"What could possibly be so bad that you had to wake me so early?" Ella pushed her duvet off herself as she spoke. She sighed when her feet touched the cold tiles and she moved to the table a couple of feet away in her room. Her eyes squinted as she looked out of the window where the sun was rising, it had been for several minutes before Margaery had entered.

"It involves you" Margaery uttered looking down at her hands in her lap. Ella picked up her chalice, filled it with the disgusting wine they had in King's Landing, and took a huge gulp in preparation for whatever Margaery had to say. She did not fear wiping, no she feared Cersei using her cunning mind to hurt her, she knew she had the power to, it was no secret that Cersei was happy to abuse the power she had.

"What could she possibly have convinced the idiot?" Ella rolled her eyes. She filled her cup again but took a small sip this time. Margaery squirmed almost uncomfortable while the seconds ticked by, she was trying to form the words in her head, wondering how she could break the news to her sister, her unsuspecting sister.

"They plan on giving your hand away" Margaery's words were hurried Ella nearly understood nothing of them. The chalice in Ella's hands cluttered down on the floor in shock and the wine spilled all over the tiled floor. Margaery jumped at the sound of the metal piece hitting the floor.

"What?" Ella cried out in disbelief, she knew her father was dumb however she did not think him dumb enough to make such a decision without at the very least asking for her consent.

"Calm down, please, sissy" Margaery stood up from the bed and walked over to where Ella stood, making sure to not step on the wine and ruin her dress or shoes. One of her arms wrapped around her younger sister in comfort snapping Ella out of her shock.

"When did you find out?" Ella allowed Margaery to detour her towards an ottoman where the two of them sat down. Margaery trapped Ella's hands in between her own, trying to push her comfort through their touching organs.

"Just now, I came immediately after I found out however I could not hear well and do not know who they have in mind" Margaery sighed. She was heartbroken for her younger sister, the fact that they were born merely eleven moons apart led them to be the closest of friends and they rarely left each other's sides as children and adults. Margaery could only hope that the match would be less violent than her own and Ella would end up with a pleasant man.

"Thank you for warning me" Ella took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. "I should have known her silence never meant peace" Ella laughed at how ridiculous she sounded, Cersei and peace were polar opposites and could never meet.

"Should I expect you when we break our fast?" Margaery asked, her hand tightening over her sister's. Ella and Margaery always broke their fast together, whether it was at home at Highgarden, or whether it was family or merely the two of them alone.

"We shall see" Ella smiled at Margaery not wanting to worry her older sister, although neither really acted their age difference, many thought them to be twins.

Ella paused in the middle of her sentence to her sister when suddenly the sound of someone clinking their knife against their glass echoed around the room. Everyone who was invited for supper with the royal family paused, unsurprisingly Cersei wished the entire council and all the royalty that had traveled for Margaery and Joffrey's wedding to attend the supper. So everyone and anyone in court was in attendance and more.

"I would like to begin this supper by thanking you all for making the journey to travel this way whether it was long or short, and we welcome you with open arms and hearts. The king and I are very happy with your presence for his upcoming wedding to Lady Margaery Tyrell" Cersei's voice echoed throughout the room with false happiness, Margaery had told Ella all about what was conspiring between her and Cersei. Ella turned to watch Cersei with her eyes squinted suspicious of the Queen mother.

"I would like to use this opportunity to announce on behalf of Lord Mace-" Cersei turned to look at Ella's father who nodded with a stupid smile on his face which made Ella wince, how in the world did her father last so long she had no idea and she could not wait for her elder brother Willas to take over the Lordship of Highgarden and they be done with their father. "-that on the morrow two weddings shall take place in stead of one, both his daughters shall marry" Cersei's eyes slid over the crowd analyzing their shocked expressions.

Margaery reached over to grasp Ella's hand in shock, the two girls' eyes widened, they had expected a betrothal but not for her to be married the next day alongside her sister. Ella turned to look at her grandmother who was shaking her head in disappointment meaning she had no idea either. There was rarely anything that Olenna Tyrell did not know so this was near a miracle.

"Lady Ella Tyrell shall be wedded to Prince Oberyn Martell on the morrow" Cersei announced pointing at the handsome prince sitting near where Ella was sat with only her grandmother in between. Ella had met the prince before along with his paramour who seemed not to be in presence at the supper.

"What?" Margaery whispered horrified. Her eyes trailed to Joffrey who was grinning evilly. Ella's heart dropped, all her dreams of falling in love and finding a loyal and respectable man were thrown out of the window with one sentence from Cersei's lips. She was being given to a man known for how lustful he was, he took his paramour with him wherever he went, and he was literally residing at a brothel.

Ella swallowed thickly fighting every urge in her body not to drop the smile from her face, indifference hardly maintained on her face. Her hand was holding Margaery's in a death grip and the other one was engulfed in her grandmother's warm hands. Ella turned to smile at her grandmother as the people around them broke into applause and cheers.

Oberyn was way older than Ella was, he had eight children already all from different whores and paramours while she was barely into her tenth and fifth nameday. Ella allowed her eyes to finally trail to Oberyn at her grandmother's other side to find him already looking at her analyzing her, trying to read her. She gulped and nodded at him before turning back to Margaery not seeing his reaction.

Margaery attempted to give Ella a reassuring smile but failed when her eyes trailed to look at Oberyn who was siping his wine with a neutral look on his face

"Excuse me, grandmother, I feel tired and wish to retire for the night" Ella whispered to Olenna. Olenna gave her granddaughter a small smile and patted her arm as Ella pushed back her chair and stood up. Ella breathed deeply to calm her racing heart before plastering a sweet smile. She moved away from the table and weaved her way through several tables accepting congratulations with a polite smile and a squeaky-sounding "thank yous".

Once outside the hall Ella could not help but take a second deep breath. she leaned against the wall trying to regain her composure. The cold stone walls felt like heaven against her heated and sweaty skin, she was shocked no one mentioned how flustered and ill-looking she must have looked.

She had dreams that were thrown out faster than a horse dump would have been. She had dreams of touring all seven kingdoms and meeting as many families and people as possible during her journey. She dreamed of reading as many books as she could, filling a library of her own, and maybe even writing her own book or books but those dreams were just demolished by Cersei Lannister.

"I never expected marrying me would be such a dreadful thought" Ella jumped when a gruff voice spoke a couple of feet away. She turned to find Oberyn standing a couple of feet away from her watching her, studying her and trying to see her reactions, her intentions.

"Your Grace, it is not like that" Ella almost tripped over her skirt while trying to curtsy, her cheeks were turning from embarrassment. The prince of Dorne just caught her sulking over marrying him. Too many things wrong with this one interaction, first and most important was that the Ladies did not sulk.

"I would be honoured to be called our wife" Ella's mask fell back in place once the shock had worn off. Oberyn however looked annoyed but to the horror of Ella, she did not wish to offend him, she did not wish to have a miserable life more than it already was.

"Do not sugar coat the situation, we both know we are not the partners we wished to have" Oberyn walked over to where she was still standing and leaned back against the same wall she was leaning on before he interrupted her panicked thoughts.

"Your Grace?" Ella turned to face, her face showed just a little bit of how truly shocked she was.

"Ella I am way older than you, I am not an idiot to think you wished to marry a man my age" Oberyn crossed his arms, his eyes roaming all over her face much to her shock. She had expected that a man with his reputation would be delighted to marry a young thing like her, she was awaiting to see his eyes roam her body and see her figure and probably make comments like she's heard other men do to their betrothed including Joffrey.

"My Prince-" Oberyn cut her off by raising his hand rendering her silent. The move irritated her beyond measure but before she could voice that Oberyn opened his mouth and what came out of it shocked her.

"Call me Oberyn, only Oberyn"

Ella was baffled, she knew men loved their women either calling them by title or a nickname, they loved to boast, they were small-minded like that.

"Oberyn, I do not mean to offend you-" Ella sighed. Her eyes were fighting not to water, they stung and hurt and she was sure they were turning red as well. Her hands fisted her dress to keep her composure but it seemed her moment of silence to get her thoughts and words straight yet again was interrupted by the prince standing in front of her.

"I do not intend to cage you little rose, your place is not in a cage but a garden" Oberyn raised his hand to touch her cheek, his fingers were gentle but rough to the touch, calloused with decades of training. He may be known as a master of poisons but he was a warrior still and no less than any guard in the palace, Ella knew that, she had seen him train in passing.

"Just know that as my wife you will be free, free of this court and their expectations. I will not expect you at my beck and call for you are no servant. I will not expect you to welcome me into your bed whenever I please for you are no whore. I do not expect you to be bred and bear me children even sons for you are no breeding mare" Tears weld in Ella's eyes as Oberyn spoke. One of those traitorous tears rolled down her cheek but his thumb was already prepared to wipe it off.

"You say that now but then the court will pressure us-" Oberyn raised his other hand and placed his forefinger over her pouting red lips. He wished to kiss them, taste them, just a small taste but he forced control over himself.

"I will not listen to them, I am not some weak-minded Lord. I am a Prince of Dorne and I shall take you there with me after the wedding" Oberyn promised. Ella took a deep breath to control herself before speaking again.

"There are many things we need to speak of but no time, tomorrow I will become your wife whether we like it or not" Ella took his hand in her own and started to rub small circles over his knuckles, she felt like she should comfort him too, after decades he was being forced to settle for her when he had voiced time and time again that he wished not to marry.

"I promise to care for you, little Rose" Oberyn promised, raising their intertwined hands and kissing her knuckles gently. Ella could not help the blush that crept up her neck and on the apple of her cheeks turning them into what they were called, blood red apples. His lips were soft and his moustache scratched her hand but she found herself not minding it. Her mind even wondered if she would get any beard burns from it if she were to let him in her bed and she found herself not minding this match as much as she did earlier.

[prolix-yuy]

For the Bangathon: Snuggling spoon with Javi G or Oberyn?

Ahhhhh we love ourselves a little snuggly sexxin'! Oberyn was calling to me for this one, but it may be a little more tense than we think...

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x OFC

Position: Snuggled Spoon

Word Count: 1419 (see how these get longer the more of them I write? I have no self-control)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, PiV sex (don’t be a fool, wrap your tool), fingering (f receiving), allusions to public sex, cum tasting, hate sex, Oberyn is an affectionate bastard.

Notes: A follow-up to this drabble, because I wanted to see how it all panned out.

“How are your accommodations, little scorpion?”

The infuriating voice of her captor (and failed assassination attempt) drifts through her cell bars. Remaining on her side on the floor, only a few crumpled blankets to soften the uncomfortable stone, she ignores his question. 

It wasn’t the first time the Prince had visited during her imprisonment. She’d screamed and railed against him the first time, tried to claw at him the second. Every spitfire reaction left him with a smarmy smile, standing just out of reach. He pulled little bits of information out of her each time - who sent her (a prominent family tired of the house leaders), what her plan was (to poison him and flee to Westeros), if she’d ever cum that hard with a lover she chose (silence). The game was more intriguing to him than she’d hoped, praying for his attention to drift so she could devise a way to escape. But every passing day he visits, and every day she grows wearier of her predicament.

Today, she’s done with this game. Her stomach is empty yet again, body aching, and hope waning. Her employers feign ignorance of her plan, abandoning her as she should have guessed. There was no one coming to reward her for her loyalty. 

“Oh come now, has all your fire finally burned out?” Oberyn purrs, but she doesn’t rise to his challenge. She’d overheard the guards speaking of an execution date, fast approaching. What does this sparring matter when she’s about to be erased from history? A blip only in the mind of a small few, forgotten when larger matters loom. 

Oberyn hums, then calls to a guard. Her interest piques for a moment, the rusty clank of keys and the creak of her door opening urging her to roll over and watch. The Prince, in his fine mustard robes and heavy jewelry, steps into the cell. The door closes behind him, even though the guard’s wary face hovers nearby. She sits fully, glaring up at her captor. He only chuckles, leaning back against the bars.

“So I have your attention finally,” he drawls, crossing his arms and raking his gaze over her body. They’d swapped her gauze and silk for a rough shift, the fabric barely keeping her warm in the night. The vulnerability makes her skin crawl.

“If it pleases the Prince of Dorne,” she spits, turning to lay back on her side. Her hands itch to press her thumbs into his eyes, but what good would it do? Speed up the sentence from days to minutes?

“Oh come now, little scorpion, I’ve already commended you on how much your subterfuge entertained me,” he tuts, steps light and cat-like approaching. “Easily the most fun I’ve had in months. And all our sparring over these last days. Don’t let your current state tamp out your fury. It’s the most beautiful thing about you.”

She stays firmly turned to the wall as he sits beside her, the heat of his body melting the ice along her spine. Denying the satisfaction of her relief, she bites down on her lip.

“I’ve never had such a…” he begins again, trying to win her attention for some mystifying reason, before he stops. His fingers brush against her bare arm. “You’re freezing.”

She snorts, very unladylike. “Maybe I’ll perish from the cold before my beheading.”

Suddenly she’s surrounded by warmth, eyes shooting open. The man she was conscripted to kill is now draping his robe around her, bare expanse of his chest snug to her back. His breath dances along her cheek, and try as she might a shudder loosens her limbs.

“Little scorpion, I would not have you suffer,” he says, and the somber tone drips wonder on her skin. Perhaps ill-advised, but she presses back against his blazing heat, wondering if all desert men are this scorching or if it’s only Oberyn. His palm comes up to her arm and warms her skin. A reedy sound of relief catches in her throat. 

Before she can protest his hand travels over her stomach to cup her sex. Such boldness would normally result in the loss of a hand, but at the barest brush her core aches. Much as she hates to admit it (and never would to the Prince), she had dreamt of his touch more than once.

“I can warm you much better than this,” Oberyn purrs in her ear, his wicked fingers already creeping below her shift.

“What makes you think I would want your touch, my Prince?” She tries to hold her voice steady but his fingers are already swiping at her folds.

“This,” he gloats, bringing his soaked fingers to her face. Her arousal gleams thickly. “I think you would positively gush on me again.” Without pretense he drags his fingers into his mouth, sucking indulgently. She turns and watches him, pure sin and infuriating charm. His eyes open, and by the gods, they’re ravenous. 

“Will you take what your Prince gives you, little scorpion?” he demands, and every fiber of her being is screaming to deny him, but her parted lips and slow nod betray her. He smiles wickedly, tugging his cock from his pants to slide between her clenched thighs. Passing over her weeping cunt, he props himself up to closely watch her face. 

“I have dreamt of this cunt since you gave it to me, fucked my fist at the memory of you clenching around me,” he spits out, notching his blunt head at her at her entrance. “And now, I’ll do it again. But this time, you’ll scream my name.”

With a forceful thrust he buries himself inside her, the blinding sensation of fullness and sharp pleasure driving her to tuck into herself. He tuts and yanks her back against his chest, hand loosely around her throat as he sets a toe-curling pace. His teeth scrape her ear as he pants.

“Tight, wet, perfect little thing. Did you think your beauty and wiles would keep me from seeing your true nature?” he hisses, plunging his other hand between her legs to pinch her clit between his fingers. All she can do is wail and rock against his hold, hands scrabbling back to grip his pounding hips. “I’ve had many a pleasure, indulged all my vices, but making you cum on my cock as you tried to kill me…now that was a new experience.” 

Her breath whistles out through clenched teeth, wishing her body didn’t mold to his so readily. Nails digging into his hips, he growls and nips at her skin. Her orgasm is fast approaching, cursing and praising his skill as he pointedly strokes her clit and pounds into the perfect place inside. 

“Yes, my dangerous little scorpion, all glittering and deadly, cum for me a second time. I want your cunt to only desire how well I fuck it.” A quick strum of his fingers and her body traitorously snaps around him, only held in check by his grip and the roar of his snarl in her ear. When her body laxes he manhandles her to her back, lifting her hips off the ground as he slaps into her with reckless thrusts. A few more and he pulls out, fisting his cock and mashing his lips to hers as he cums in the palm of his hand. 

His lips are full and soft, the scratch of his mustache and beard burning against her skin. He sweeps his tongue into her mouth, full and domineering, but when she presses back with teeth and a lap of her own his hips stutter between hers. They kiss messily, licking and biting and panting against each other’s mouths until he finally lifts up and looks down at her. The Prince of House Martell, flushed and satiated, eyes just as dark and promising. 

“I stand by what I said during your arrest,” he says lightly, standing and shrugging off the floor-length robe. He drapes it over her body, sauntering to the cell door with only low-slung pants and the golden expanse of his back. She sits up, clutching the robe to her chest still warm. “You may beat us all to the Iron Throne one day, with that tenacity of yours.” 

One hand pulls the door shut…but not quite. Not enough for the latch to catch, but enough for the guards to believe so. Her eyes snap from the door to Oberyn’s eyes, challenge and conquest pooling in them.

“Come try and kill me again if you can, little scorpion.”

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

[veritable-trash]

May Our Flowers Always Bloom

guess who spent wayyyy too much time on canva making this(it's me)

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Character(unnamed, 3rd person, minimal descriptors)also this is a fantasy AU where oberyn is a forest prince, canon be damned

Summary: He could still remember the first time he saw her enter his grove. Not many dared to venture so far into the wood but she had seemed so at ease. Feet bare to the moss and dirt, flowers delicately woven in her hair, a song he’d never heard gracing her lips. 

He’d been stunned.

Word Count: 3.3K

Rating: T - no smut, though maybe there will be??? who knows, but also parental death, and at this point i think that's it. let me know if i missed something! my whole blog is 18+ anyways so kiddos SCRAM

A/N: hahahaha holy shit. it's been actually an age since i've written anything at all and then today i said fuck it we write and then i wrote this. this is a little fantasy au with my lover oberyn who i've wanted to write for AGES. canon is not really relevant here other than like general personality and such. i might write a part two, maybe make this a series, but every time i say that i never finish or write it so i'm just gonna leave this here for now and see what happens. more rambles, notes thoughts at the end but i hope you enjoy!!!! also minimally edited basically just skimmed so apologies for any mess :) <33333

masterlist woot woot

~~~~~

She had grown up at the edge of the great woods. 

A bit further from the village than maybe strictly necessary but her parents had always been a little off, at least by the town folks standards. 

They had always turned to the earth, turned to the plants to heal and guide them and she had grown with her toes wiggled into the soft dirt, hands clutching at wildflowers and weeds. She knew nothing else. Hated the noise and the chaos of the town. How people stared and whispered about the wild family out in the woods.

She never felt like she was wild. Almost felt as if the townsfolk themselves were the wild ones. But she toed the line between the “real” world and the world of her creation.

The magical realm of the woods.

Her parents had of course warned her of respecting the forest. That though they tried to live as one with all that the earth provided, there were dangers that lurked among the gnarled roots and towering pines. She must tread carefully and never, ever after dark. 

And she obeyed, but only just. Curled up against the base of the trees, writing or sewing or singing or musing, until the sun barely grazed the top most points of those towering giants high above her and the forest began to melt into darkness and secrets.

Those were her favorite moments, eyes adjusting to the low light, fireflies dancing between the trunks and leaves, the calm silence filtering its way signaling the time for rest, and for some reason she could never explain she never felt danger. Even when she would reappear from the woods, darkness having fully settled and her parents scolding her for staying out so long, she somehow knew nothing would harm her among those woods. 

She was somehow interwoven with the roots and moss and flowers and leaves. 

~~~~~

He could still remember the first time he saw her enter his grove. Not many dared to venture so far into the wood but she had seemed so at ease. Feet bare to the moss and dirt, flowers delicately woven in her hair, a song he’d never heard gracing her lips. 

He’d been stunned.

Oberyn had only just been allowed to venture in the human realm. He was still a child to his mother, the wild unruly one who could not be trusted to keep the secrets of Dorne to himself. To understand that the human realm could not know, never know, about the forest kingdom. 

For even though Oberyn could see her in the brightest light of day, she could not see him. He could only appear as one of those verdant things that always seemed to attract her attention. Only upon his knighthood could he enter the human world. 

And so he watched her. 

Sat with her in those mystic groves. Grew her beautiful flowers to pick and adorn her hair. Whispered to the lightening bugs to guide her home when she stayed till twilight. Followed her through the forest until the very edge, keeping her safe, clearing her way, making sure nothing harmed her on her return home. 

They were both so young when they stumbled upon each other in that wood, knowingly and unknowingly, and he grew to cherish those moments. He had always felt a bit different from his family. Lonely and misunderstood, and for some reason around her he felt whole. A calmness settling over his ever twitching hands that he was constantly scolded for. 

He knew he was young, infatuation fickle and deceiving, and yet he could not lie to himself that his heart somehow felt tethered to her. Even the silent companionship of reading right next to her filled the gapes between his ribs with warmth. 

He would sometimes read over her shoulder at the pages of the newest novel she was devouring, aching to know more about the world she came from. Aching to know more about this girl that haunted all of his dreams. 

If his family noticed a shift in his habits, they paid no mind, ever the youngest child, left to his own devices, but he yearned for his knighthood. Ached to be known to her somehow, for it was torture only being able to ghost soft gentle breezes across her skin. Watch her skin prickle, and the most content sigh to fall from her lips. 

He could go mad with this want. 

~~~~~

Her parents passed soon after her 18th birthday.

It had been sudden and destructive. A trip to the market for more supplies cut short by an overturned cart and poor poor timing. The village had helped her but even with such grief and suffering regarded her with distrust. 

The wild girl loosing her wild parents, it truly is no surprise. Who knows what they get up to in that little shack by the woods. Witchcraft probably. Yes, yes most likely so. 

And when the whispers and worry and pain all became too much, the wood was still always there. The first few months after her parents passing she would run there. Tripping over roots as tears overflowed in her eyes, not sparing those flowers even a second glance as she collapsed in the middle of the grove, sun filtering around her but her body feeling nothing. 

She’d dig her nails in the moss, tearing at it as she wailed to no one and nothing, aching for something to ease the pain of a loose she still did not know how to process. Would lay there, unmoving for hours on end until the numbness finally took over and she was able to walk home, unfeeling and disjointed, reality but a film over her eyes. And even in those most dire moments the wood somehow always guided her home as though the trees opened themselves up to create a path.

Her work continued, mothers came for tonics for crying babes, elders came for salves for their aching limbs, and she continued to bear the mantle her parents had trained her for all these years. She had to make coin somehow and the work steadied her. Reminded her of her mothers calming cadence listing off ingredients, her father teaching her of proper techniques for harvesting.

She grew many years in the span of only a few months, but she had to hardened. Had to strengthen her spine and learn to be sure in herself even when it felt like all her threads were fraying. 

The woods were all that saved her in those trying moments.

It was somehow always warm and soothing, wild flowers littering her path as she traveled aimlessly to cleanse her mind. Picking them one by one to build the most beautiful bouquet that would grace her work table in the cottage. It was a ritual for her at this point in her life, always returning to that sacred groove that somehow gave her the greatest peace she’d ever known. Where worries seemed to melt into the soil beneath her feet and lighten the load on her shoulders just a touch. Always a gentle breeze to remind her of the wonders of the wood. The calm that could be found there. 

Her strides back home were always a touch more assured, a touch lighter, and she somehow knew it was all going to be alright somewhere in the end. And every time she’d step out of the wood, she would always turn around and whisper,

Thank you.

~~~~~

You’re welcome flower. 

He was taller than her now, able to look down into her eyes when she whispered those simple two words that set his heart racing. Sometimes it even seemed like she was looking right at him, eyes somehow connecting even between the realms, though he knew it was not true. 

He’d been at a loss when she’d first stumbled into their grove, tears staining her cheeks. He could not understand what plagued her. Was it heartbreak? Had she loved another? Had they hurt her so? 

It had sent him into a rage he’d never felt before. The jealousy, the want, no the need to hurt whoever had hurt his flower overwhelmed him till he could barely see straight. 

His hands had ghosted over her hunched spine, he’d whispered his sorrow for her suffering and it only drove him crazier.

The knowledge that she felt none of it. Wasn’t able to hear a single word. 

He grew her flowers, sent her breezes, shifted the very earth of the groove to cradle her in the plushest of moss and yet her eyes seemed to register none of it. 

They were hollow and vacant, the pain seeming to have sucked every twinkle that had made his heart skip.

But he never stopped trying.

He couldn’t stop. His flower, as he’d started calling her, was suffering a pain he could not understand but he could try and fix. 

Though he was still but a boy, he wanted to be a man for her. 

He grew brighter blooms, lined a path for her to walk to and from the groove, sent breezes filled with orange blossom and spiced earth to ease her heart, used his powers, though still weak, in every way he knew how, and slowly he saw his flower blooming once again.

The first time she’d picked a flower after that never ending winter of pain, he almost shed a tear. Her eyes had sparkled just slightly and she’d tucked it behind her ear, the softest hum of content gracing his ears. 

He felt as though he had slain the greatest beast that ever lived. 

~~~~~

It had been two years almost to the day after her parents passing that the forest had shifted.

She didn’t know how to explain it but the air between the trees no longer smelled of orange blossoms and cinnamon. 

It just smelled like the dirt and decaying leaves and dampness that came with the forest. 

There were no flowers lining the way to that ever calming clearing like she had grown so accustomed to. No soft breeze pushing her along. 

She couldn’t understand it, and even more perplexing was the single most beautiful flower that she found growing in the center of groove.

A lone sprig of forget-me-nots trembling in a breeze that only held the faintest notes of that orange blossom that she had known for the past two years. 

Something in her heart stirred, body growing both cold and hot all at once, unsure of how to understand what this shift, this change all meant. 

It felt almost blasphemous to pick the flower, and yet she couldn’t leave it all alone in this place that no longer felt like a home to her. So she delicately clipped it at its base and turned around and walk back to the cottage. 

The journey took longer than usual, no guiding flowers or friendly lighting bugs to guide her, and her heart sank further as though she had lost something great once again. 

She gently pressed the flower between the pages of her most treasured journal clutching it to her chest as she watched the forest, as if waiting for something to emerge, the sparkle to return, for the forest to feel like hers again.

But as the sun sank behind the treetops and the sky shifted into the darkness, the forest did not call to her. 

It was the first time in a very, very long time that she truly felt alone.

~~~~~

Oberyn had both not wanted to leave and ached eternally to start his quests. He knew what it meant to turn 20. To reach the age where knighthood must be found in a man, for he had longed for this day all his life.

But watching the confusion and pain on her face as she left the forest that day felt like a knife in his gut. A weeping wound that he did not know he would survive. 

He had been foolish to leave the flower, he knew that. Risky and impulsive and dangerous to say the least but he could not leave her without somehow saying goodbye. Without somehow showing her that he would come back, that he could never stay away from her for too long, but he could not foretell how long his quests would be. No way of knowing where he would go, who he would meet, the man he would become in the distant realms.

There was war out there, struggle and strife, and he knew his family expected greatness from him. When Doran, his older brother, had returned from his journeys, he came back with prestige and honor, but he had also come back with an illness that it seemed no one could heal.

What if Oberyn was left like his brother after his journeys? How many years would he be gone? What if he could not return to his flower? What if she left the forests edge to never be found again?

He could barely sleep the days leading up to his departure, and those final moments with her in the groove brought him to his knees. 

He knew he was young, knew that loves came and went and that there would maybe be others for him to love, but something about her called to him in ways he had never understood. And yet if he wished to truly be with her, to brush the delicate skin of her cheeks, to hear her say his name, to feel the warmth of her skin against his, he had to go. He had to toil and suffer and fight and return back to this place and finally reveal himself to her as he has always wished to.

That was the only way. 

And so a flower he left. A memento of their many years together that she knew nothing about but maybe someday would learn of when the time was right. 

~~~~~

She didn’t exactly avoid the forest after that strange day, but she didn’t tempt the fates so to speak.

There was a change in the energy of the forest, a boundary of sorts she had never felt, cutting her off from something. She no longer stayed into the twilight hours, returning earlier and earlier from her scavenging and harvesting, and even stranger was she hadn’t been able to find her groove. 

It was as though it had disappeared completely, a figment of her imagination. The trees looked the same, the path well worn by her own two feet and yet she could never seem to reach it. It always seemed just around the next bend and it made her brain wobble. 

Her reality was somehow shifting and changing, as though those years after her parents passing had been just a daydream. But now she knew how to survive loss. Knew how to put her head down, focus on her work, her garden, the townspeople, her home. One day in town on an errand she had stumbled upon a scruffy little kitten, skittish and hungry, and had wrapped him up in her arms and brought him home. 

Viper and her were inseparable from that day forth. 

And though every so often she would stare at the forests edge, a wistful sigh escaping her lips, there was a life to be lived. Her life. A life that she had been neglecting for too long and had been too afraid to start.   

Life became a bit easier after that. The realization of wanting a future that made her proud, that would have made her parents proud, focusing her and giving her new purpose. She was no longer that wild girl of her youth, but a woman of healing to those in need. The valley she lived in wasn’t extremely large, but there were enough children with runny noses and achy joints to keep her busy and fulfilled. 

The days, months, even years began to pass in calm waves, time lapping at the shores of her life, peace finding its way back in her heart, her soul.

Though every once in awhile loneliness would come again. A chill in her spine reminding her of all that she had lost, all that she could never have, and the only balm in those moments was pressed between the pages of that old weathered journal. Even years later there still remained a trace of that orange blossom spice between those pages and somehow the blue of the flower remained true. 

She sometimes would worry that one day she would open the journal and the flower would be gone, all traces of those memories erased as if they never existed, but that day never came.

~~~~~

His quest seemed never-ending. The distances he traveled unfathomable even to his understanding. 

It felt like there was no land he had not traversed as he fought and learned and matured. 

A lanky boy no longer but a man, roughened, shaped, cut, molded, and broken apart only to be thrown back together again.

He thought of his flower more often than he cared to admit.

~~~~~

It was the 10 year anniversary of her parents passing. 

A lifetime so it seemed and yet the ache still lingered fresh every year on the day. 

She knew it always would and now after so much time it was more comforting than painful, knowing that she would always hold them close in her heart. The pain now a symbol of love not suffering. 

That morning had felt strangely fresh, the air lighter around her as the sun rose above the mountains, an unidentifiable familiarity weaving through the breeze. 

She entered the forest as she always did, though there was no plan for this walk. No need to scavenge, no pressure to look for fresh herbs. This walk was to mourn, to honor her parents and the memories she held of them in this sacred place. 

Weaving between the trees, it somehow felt new to her, like the light had shifted once again, coloring the path before her in the richest of greens. She closed her eyes for just a moment and could almost hear her mothers laugh echo between the branches and leaves above her. A lone tear trickling down her cheek as she couldn’t help but smile at the thought. 

As she aimlessly moved through the forest, she got lost in her own mind. The memories of so many moments flashing before her as she pondered all that she had lived through. A life so full and yet, today, as it happened every year, she felt lonely. No longer achingly so, but still, there was a life she still desired that had never presented itself to her. 

A love like her parents had.

She was no nun by any means, but no one had ever grasped her attention the way she had always dreamed. Maybe she was fickle, cold and reserved, but her heart had suffered much and for some reason no one had ever felt right. 

Her mind continued to weave through her memories, the forest thickening around her as she traveled deeper and deeper into the green. It had been a long time since she had gone this far, but today it felt ok to keep going. As though a solid hand lay at the base of her spine guiding her gently along. 

All of a sudden the tree line broke, that ancient grove appearing before her once more as though it had been waiting for her arrival. 

Her breath stalled in her chest as memories came flooding back faster and faster. The tears, the flowers, the pain, the joy, the tranquility, the confusion, the comfort, the love. 

She collapsed to the soft mossy floor, the feelings bringing back the strongest deja vu, burying her head in her hands as tears blurred her vision. It felt like some kind of dream, some inexplicable moment of fiction. 

Then the breeze kicked up and she smelled it.

Orange blossoms and cinnamon.

And as she opened her eyes, tears tracking down her cheeks, she saw him. 

A man too beautiful to be real crouching before her, a look of devastating devotion etched in his golden irises.

“Hello my flower.”

~~~~~

whoop whoop of course i left it on a cliffhanger come on now it's the best way to do it :))))))) anyways lifes been kinda crazy and so writing has just been not a priority but i had a lot of fun writing this. i definitely don't like writing dialogue hence ending at this point because there haven't been any interactions between these two BUT i missed this and want to push myself to write again and maybe this is the perfect way to do it. so maybe they will interact soonish who really knows <3 reblogs comments are like super duper appreciated and loved so if you liked it or have thoughts or generally just wanna ramble about how hot this man is come hit my line! anyways hugs kisses the whole gambut of affection and maybe i'll be writing to ya soon <333333333

[rainwingmarvel7]

Basic Nadya Dormaire Lore

Born: 281 AC, Raven’s Keep

Parents: Edwyrd Dormaire and Marah Tyrell

Siblings: Alistair Dormaire, Victyr Dormaire, Erwyn Dormaire (Snow)

Love Interest(s): Robb Stark (S1-S3, husband), Jon Snow (S1-S8, husband), Theon Greyjoy (pre-S1 & S5-S8, paramour), Jaime Lannister (S4 & S7-S8, husband (annulled)), Tyrion Lannister (S4 & S7-S8, paramour), Oberyn Martell (S4, paramour)

Children: Carlyle Snow (w/Theon Greyjoy); Ren Stark, Lena Stark, and Eddard Stark (w/Robb Stark); Gwyndolyn, Tyland, and Joanna Lannister (w/Jaime Lannister); Jaime Lannister (Waters) (w/Tyrion Lannister); Robb, Talisa, Margaery, Theon, Edwyrd, and Lyanna Stark (w/Jon Snow)

Titles: Noblewoman of House Dormaire (S1-S8), Queen in the North (S2-S3), Lady of Casterly Rock (S4), Queen Consort of the Six Kingdoms (S8)

Weapon(s): Lady’s Courage (sword gifted to her by Jon Snow), Queen’s Wrath (sword gifted to her by the Tyrells)

Fic: As the Raven Flies

[thepalaceofmelanie]

Martell Week, Day 7: Favorite Martell

Tag: @adriennegabriella @wingsoftheangels @morby @candycanes19 @tashastrange89

(A/N: Honestly, to certain people reading this, it shouldn’t surprise you. Not one bit and you know why! Grab yourself some passion fruit tea and enjoy! This is inspired by a modern day AU oneshot I’m still writing, and failed to get out before Martell week. We came full circle, started with an AU, ended with it. Not sure if it’s in the same universe, but it’s up to you all! Thank you again to @martellspear for hosting this awesome event.)

Day 7: Favorite Martell

Daenerys and Ellaria had left on their respective business trips, leaving me in charge of Oberyn. Some days I wonder how we make all of this work. Daenerys being assertive, Ellaria being sensual, Oberyn being the life of the party..and me, the introvert.

“Apologize my love, for being late! The weather is being horrible outside.” Oberyn’s voice rang out.

The power was out, I had candles lit in the living room. The wind was blowing hard; Oberyn’s outfit had rain marks on it; I got up from the couch and grabbed the pizza box. Oberyn went to his room to change; I placed the box down and two plates on the table and wait for him to come back.

“How are you today?” I asked.

The sound of his footstep coming downstairs echoed in the hallway. A rumble of thunder added to the mix, I could see Oberyn now make his way into the room. I handed him his plate and he sat next to me. I felt my head touch his shoulder.

“I’m fine, how about you?” He answered.

“It’s been quiet. I had the day off and you had work, the other two are away on business.” I replied.

I grabbed my phone and went to find something for us to watch. I don’t mind talking but we’re also eating. We settle on “The Good Place”, it’s been a while since we were able to watch it together. Just some days our schedules don’t match; you either live by the calendar or die by the calendar.

“When was the last time we were together like this?”

“Um...two weeks, maybe three?”

It’s been a while to the point, I couldn’t remember. Oberyn sighed, and I knew he was feeling a bit bad about it.

“Hey, it’s okay. It happens, I’m happy we’re spending time at all than none at all.”

“I know, I know. I’m just trying my best for you three. You three are worth my time, I promise. You three are important.”

I smiled at that, Oberyn...sure can be a bit of a playboy at times, but he’s a sweet and good man. I truly do care about him, I do my best to help him when he is hard on himself. Ever since a certain event happened, his heart has been broken. The three of us are doing our best to help when he needs it or asks for it.

Oberyn laughed at the episode and I could hear the storm was getting worse. Oberyn pulled me closer to him; I’m not scared of storms, but this was kinda romantic; just us and we’re safe inside, I hope.

“Thank you.” I hear him say.

“For what?” I asked.

“Taking care of me, usually isn’t it the guy’s job to take care of his lover?”

“No, we take care of each other. Like a wolf pack. Kinda like our little family. We have a dragon, a sand, a viper and a wolf. Oberyn, remember to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. It’s not fair if you tell me to make sure, if you’re not doing it.”

I did have a point on it. Me and him, we’re two sides of the same coin at times. When it comes to taking care of things, we put everything ahead of us. I feel his hand squeeze mine.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am! I’m the INFJ of our group.”

The two of us busted out laughing. I feel Oberyn’s lips on mine for a quick second. Sometimes I don’t feel worthy of these three, but I’m happy they picked me and I’m happy I picked them.

As for Oberyn, I’m just glad he’s grown over the years.

“I have vacation next week, I was thinking if you can get a moment from the book tour, we could go do something together for the week. I mean Ellaria and Daenerys are going to be gone till late next week.” Oberyn sugested.

A vacation… That sounds great.

[versatileginger]

SYNERGY | MASTERLIST

Oberyn Martell x OC (Ava)

Warnings: AU, violence, weapons, mature themes, murder, everything you'd find in in Game of Thrones. 

Summary: In the embrace of existence, the brilliance of light finds its depth in the shadows, and conversely, the obscurity of darkness discovers its essence in the radiant dance of symbiotic contrast.

CHAPTER 1 (Coming soon)

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Oberyn Martell/Original Female Character(s), Margaery Tyrell & Original Female Character(s), Olenna Tyrell & Original Female Character(s) Characters: Original Female Character(s), Original House Tyrell Character(s), Oberyn Martell, Margaery Tyrell, Olenna Tyrell, Tywin Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Joffrey Baratheon, Original Characters Additional Tags: episode rewrites, no ellaria sand, I am so sorry, i love her to pieces but alas, long lost lovers, Shameless Smut, Joffrey Baratheon Being an Asshole, Dead Joffrey Baratheon, Blood and Violence, Blood and Gore, Oberyn Martell Lives Summary:

This is a repost of this fic that I had posted on my old AO3 account romanticgumchewer.

Aliana Tyrell comes to King's Landing for the wedding of her sister to King Joffrey Baratheon. But while there, she reunites with her old lover: Oberyn Martell.

[rp-partnerfinder]

hi! re submitting since I read one of the rules wrong sorry about that

I 18m am looking 18+ for a Game Of Thrones rp. Specifically one with Oberyn Martell against my King!oc. he's pretty rigid and closed off and I wanted to pair him with Oberyn one because I think they'd be a cute couple and I think his personality would loosen up my oc. a basic plot I was looking for is an arranged marriage, I'm down for different au's looking at you omegaverse. I'm also open for nsfw and have few limits so hmu. I rp on discord but plot on tumblr ❤ like this and I'll reach out!

.

[christinamadsen]

🥺💔🥹❤️‍🩹

To Weep For The Sun

Summary:  Argella Baratheon never wanted to become a lady-in-waiting to her cousin’s, Rhaegar, betrothed. But then Elia Martell smiled at her and the world tilted.

Pairing: Elia Martell/Baratheon!Female Original Character, Oberyn Martell/Baratheon!Original Female Character

WARNINGS: sneaking around with the love of your life behind your husband’s back, Elia and her babies have the canon ending, sorry, maximum angst

Word Count: 9.6k (is anyone surprised?)

(Banner by bb @thesadvampire who would always let me scream and cry about Elia) 

A/N:  This story bounces between the ‘past’ (pre-Robert’s Rebellion) and the 'present’ (post Rebellion.) Please let me know if you have any questions.

Or read on Ao3 here!

Robert’s face was red and wet—redder still from where her hand had connected with his cheek. The clattering of armor, of Kingsguard dogs rushing to their new king’s aid from the woman who had just smacked him, barely registered in her ears.

“You are a monster.”

**

Argella remembered meeting the princess before the royal wedding. She was a Baratheon—a far off cousin of the Targaryen family tree and the only girl born to Steffon and Cassana Baratheon and Queen Rhaella had requested she become a lady-in-waiting to the new princess of the Seven Kingdoms. It was supposed to be an honor, many others had been vying for the position she was unceremoniously saddled with, but she only saw it as an inconvenience. King’s Landing smelled. It had none of the charms of Storm’s End and she hated how warm every day was—where were the storms to lull her to sleep? Or the sea breeze to cool her heated skin?

And she was completely prepared to bribe her new slew of handmaidens to make sure her chalice was always filled with sweet wine but then…

“Hello,” a soft voice said.

And the world tilted.

Keep reading

[happilyhertale]

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

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

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell

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

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

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

Word count: 3.3 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whimper again and your fingers grab his biceps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You only whimper, followed by a loud moan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list:

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

[moireia]

lost and only led by stars — alyssa snow & oberyn martell

hold me, carry me slowly, my sunlight insp

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Ella Tyrell aesthetic (2)

Ella Tyrell face claim: Amy James-Kelly

[prolix-yuy]

Simple Treasures

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Male OC "Tesoro"

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: The day of your presentation to the Dornish court is here, and all the anxieties that brings.

Warnings: T, allusions to sexual acts, Oberyn is a warning all his own, mostly fluff and pompery.

Notes: Hello @mandaloresson, it is I, your not-so secret-anymore Santa for the Pedrostories Secret Santa! This prompt was a lot of fun because, while I've watched and drooled over Oberyn throughout Game of Thrones, I haven't written anything for him! And oh, is he fun to write for!

Happy Holidays!

Three steps down.

Stop.

Wait for the announcement.

Smile.

Then down to the platform.

Wait for them to bow.

Not to you, of course, to the Prince.

Then he’ll put a hand on your lower back and lead you down into the mass of silks and jewels and jealous eyes.

The words swirl in your mind as your eyes remain locked on the twin doors leading to the Dornish royal court.

Ellaria prepared you for the pomp of your presentation as the tailors laid out fine fabrics for your ensemble, only half listening at first until she rolled her eyes and pointed to an ochre silk.

“That will compliment Prince Oberyn’s robe,” she said dismissively, sending the tailors away as she sat in front of you. Keeping your back ramrod straight, face smooth, hands still in your lap, she smiled and tutted.

“Have you heard anything I’ve said to you, Tesoro?” she said, eyebrows ticking up when you coughed and shifted in your seat.

“Were you nervous when he presented you?” you asked, resisting the urge to pick at your nails. You’d worked so hard to remove the calluses, the ragged edges. You couldn’t throw that away just days before you’d be scrutinized. Ellaria lounged on the bed, the shift of her dress swaying deep down her chest as she propped her head up on one hand.

“The eyes of the court are nothing compared to the eyes of our lover,” she said, “He’s all you need to worry about.” A contemplative purse of her lips preceded her next words. “Though you should watch your feet around some of the ladies, they’ll try to trip you up in more ways than one.”

“Because I don’t belong.”

Ellaria’s eyes snapped sharply to yours.

“Banish that thought from your mind. Nothing about where you're from, your history, or what’s between your legs matters to them.”

You take a cleansing breath to blow the cobwebs of uncertainty from your mind. In so many ways your life now feels like a dream compared to what came before. A gardener plucked from the Prince’s flowers, elbows deep in the dirt when you first met Oberyn. He’d looked down at you with a devious smirk, sunlight at his back making him even more god-like than the stories painted him.

“And what have we here? A little treasure buried in my gardens?” he purred, extending a hand to help you to your feet.

“My Prince, I am filthy, I cannot…” you murmured, keeping your gaze locked on the golden finery draped over his shoulders. You weren’t worthy enough to look in the Prince’s eyes, or to even be talking to him. But he clasped your hand anyways, and with surprising strength for his lithe build he pulled you to stand. Every muscle in your body screamed to move away before someone saw you, but liquid slow Oberyn brought a hand to your face, fingers tracing your jaw as his lips parted sinfully.

“I prefer the filth,” he chuckled before drawing you out of the garden, your world, and into his. 

“Tesoro.”

Oberyn’s voice slices through your reveries, twin doors still closed before you but the noise of the high court thrumming behind it.

“Apologies, my Prince,” you murmur as the guards stride to grasp the massive handles. With a flick of his wrist he stops them, the warm hand on you back now cupping your chin.

“What races around that quick mind of yours, my treasure?” he says, concern lacing his brow. 

Nothing he would understand, a man raised in station and wealth. How could he know that you’d studied the traditions for weeks, your jaw aching from the stress of it all. He’d been there to ease the worries away, with his words and his kisses and the debauchery of his bed, but he could never soothe away the fears that festered in your belly. That you were wrong to stand beside him. That worthier men and women filled this room and would gladly tell every secret, every shame you ever carried to be in your place. 

“Nothing to worry over, my Prince,” you say, and his face darkens just enough to spark under your skin.

“Such formality, tesoro. Just this morning you were calling me Oberyn. And sweet lover. And oh gods yes, please, there, right there…” Oberyn teases, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he imitates your moans. You swat at him peevishly, then stiffen at the sight of the guards only feet away. You just struck the Prince. Would they gut you for that? 

But Oberyn chuckles and wraps his hand around your neck, thumb soothing the skin below your ear.

“The opinion of the court matters not to me. They will look at you and assume much. About your goals, your intentions, my proclivities. They will hiss and spit like the pit of snakes they think they are.” He lifts his chin, the sharp angle of his jaw and the steely set of his brow thrilling.

“But I am the Red Viper, and they would do well to remember that.”

As giving and kind as Oberyn can be, the darkness that flits under the surface stirs arousal in you. He must see it in your eyes because he shifts his hip to graze against your crotch, his grip tightening.

“Would you like me to empty that mind of yours before we go in? They can wait,” he suggests, which makes an honest laugh spill from your lips. Freshly fucked was not the way you first wanted to enter the court. You shake your head.

“Such fortitude,” he says, stepping back to take your face in both hands. The danger in his voice softens, crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening as he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs.

“You are more precious to me than any of the finery, the tradition, the status that lays on my shoulders. If you would like to go to the gardens and sit among the flowers I would gladly leave this all behind. These people know nothing of me, of my heart. Say the word and I will forego them.” 

The honesty in his eyes spreads like molten gold through your chest, your smile eliciting a dazzling one from him. 

“I’d like to show off what I’ve learned about Dornish court traditions,” you counter, and the approving smile he gives you eases some of the anxiety away.

“Then let us enter,” he says to the guards, and the doors open to a wall of sound and light and color. 

You make your way down, remembering all of the steps without prompting. The eyes on you are almost as weighty as the finery you’ve donned, and you take Ellaria’s advice and avoid eye contact. Distilling your world down to a banner in the distance and the feeling of Oberyn’s hand on your lower back, you descend into a world you never dreamed you’d inhabit.

The introspection breaks your focus for a moment, and you miscount the number of steps. You take one too many, your foot about to come down hard in a stumble. Your balance tips forward, fear spiking as you try to play it off, but Oberyn tightens his fist in your robe and holds you still beside him. Relief washes over you, the court noticing nothing and Oberyn’s grip loosening once you’re firmly on both feet, smoothing any wrinkles in the silk.

It’s not the only stumble you make that night. When a woman swathed in emerald begins a discussion on flowers, you launch into proper seed care and soil types when you realize she meant arrangements. A man hints too frequently at why he thinks the Prince favors you, and you loudly suggest a local brothel if he’s looking for a male consort. And when a drink is brought to you that is overly sweet and cloying, you struggle not to interrupt the diatribe an older woman is leading about the arts. 

But at each moment you feel the weight of inadequacy, one look at Oberyn quells your nerves. He has to hide a smile at your curt assessment of the nosy man, and brings you another glass of wine to wash down the offending drink. He even graciously redirects the floral conversation and recommends the woman try getting her hands in the dirt every now and then. It could yield untold riches. 

And when he kisses you fondly in your seats of honor, humor and gratefulness in both your eyes, you’re not sure which of you holds the greater treasure.

END

Thank you to @pedrostories for organizing this fantastic exchange, and happy holidays everyone!

[veritable-trash]

game of thrones masterlist

*: smut, 18+, minors do not enter i will fight you!

Oberyn Martell

May Our Flowers Always Bloom

He could still remember the first time he saw her enter his grove. Not many dared to venture so far into the wood but she had seemed so at ease. Feet bare to the moss and dirt, flowers delicately woven in her hair, a song he’d never heard gracing her lips. 

He’d been stunned.