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drakoneve · 1 year

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The Poisoned Cup

request: Hey, dear! if you are taking requests could i get an angst imagine/oneshot Daemon x Martell fem!reader where she and Daemon are married (they really love each other) and she is pregnant and they are beaming, but reader ends up being poisoned and consequently loses the baby, feeling guilty she ends up running away, but before she leaves a letter for viserys asking for an annulment, before making any decision he talks to Daemon who is furious that she ran away and asks for an annulment + so he goes to Dorne after his wife, she doesn't want to see him at first but he doesn't give up, eventually they talk and reader expresses everything she is feeling just like he does, they cry together and he assures her that everything will be fine and asks her to come back with him, which she agrees to, please? (with a lot of angst, fluffy and happy ending)

pairing: daemon targaryen x y/n martell

word count: 3k (#oops)

warnings: fem bodied!reader, miscarriage, poisoning, reader’s feeling guilty and v depressed

a/n: i apologize if there are any mistakes regarding house martell, i don’t know much abt them. i also didn’t describe much of the reader besides longer hair

When your older brother Qoren Martell told you he’d arranged a marriage between yourself and Prince Daemon Targaryen with King Viserys, you were unbelievably angry with him that you wouldn’t speak to him for days. But eventually you came to accept that marrying the prince was your duty to keep peace between Dorne and the rest of Westeros following the war in the Stepstones.

Daemon talked to you before the wedding about how he wanted to wed you in the traditions of Old Valyria, and you agreed even though you were quite hesitant. In the end it was a beautiful ceremony and you felt undoubtedly connected to your new husband.

It wasn’t but three months after your wedding that your lady in waiting, Elaena, pointed out to you that you hadn’t had your monthly bleed. You visited the maester that morning and he confirmed you were indeed with child.

Everything was going smoothly until two months later, when Rhaenyra ended her search for a husband ended and King Viserys announced a marriage between his daughter and Ser Laenor Velaryon, son of Lord Corlys Velaryon of Driftmark. The feast of celebrations had begun and you sat at the end of the royal table in between Daemon and Lord Lyonel Strong, Hand of the King.

“Everything to your liking, my love?” Daemon asks, then sips on his wine.

You grin at him, pulling apart the sweet roll in front of you to get to the soft, warm center. “Mhm,” you hum. “We’re quite satisfied, dear husband.”

He reaches his free hand to rub your growing belly. You cover his hand with yours and continue on to dine on the fine food presented before you.

Unbeknownst to you, Ser Gerold Royce approaches the royal table.

“Your Grace, Princess Rhaenyra, congratulations are in order,” Ser Gerold greets the king and princess.

“We are honored to have you as a guest, Ser Gerold,” the king says graciously. “I must say, I was most distressed to hear of the Lady Rhea's tragic passing. I'm very sorry for your loss.” “Lady Rhea was a unique character. Her kind... is not soon to be seen again,” Ser Gerold says before turning to glare at Daemon. “In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes. Even Targaryens.”

“If there is anything the crown might do to aid House Royce...” Viserys tries to deflect, but Daemon doesn’t allow the show of disrespect.

“Who are you?” Daemon quips as if he hadn’t paid the man the slightest bit of attention until now.

“Ser Gerold Royce of Runestone,” he announces proudly with a puff of his chest.

“And?”

“I am cousin to your late lady wife, Rhea Royce.”

Your stomach clenches at the mention of Daemon’s first wife. You not only knew the truth of what happened, but you helped Daemon plan it out with the help of some of your spies in the Vale. They were married at the time Daemon proposed to you, and there was no way you believed Viserys would allow his rebellious brother an annulment or a second wife in the traditions of Old Valyria. The only solution either of you could come up with to open the negotiations for your hand in marriage was to rid Daemon of is bronze wife completely.

Daemon’s lilac eyes harden as he clenches his jaw before eyeing the man. “Ahh, yes,” he says finally. “Terrible thing. I was positively bereft. Such a tragic accident.”

“You know better than anyone, it was no accident,” Ser Gerold spits.

You gasp lightly, placing both hands on your stomach as if you were in shocked by the accusation. Daemon caught on and sat up in his seat, feigning concern on his features.

He turns back to Ser Gerold with fire in his eyes. “Are you confessing some guilt, Ser Gerold?”

“I am making an accusation.”

“You know, in King's Landing,” Daemon all but growls, “men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cսոts like you.”

Before Ser Gerold has the chance to come up with a rebuttal, chaos breaks out amongst those on the dancefloor. You can’t see exactly who, but a Kingsguard has overpowered someone you cannot see at all, and is pummeling down with a hard right fist.

Knights from behind the royal table rush forward upon the king’s command, furthering the tension in the room. At this point you’ve risen from your seat and secured a place behind Daemon, who has now drawn Dark Sister from her sheath.

The chaos lasts for a few more minutes but eventually the Kingsguard take control of the room, and the knight who began the fight in the first place was escorted from the throne room. Maids immediately begin working on cleaning the mess (minus the body removed by knights), and party goers resume dancing on the remaining dance floor.

Daemon pulls out your seat out for you and you kiss his cheek before taking your seat. You reach for your wine first before Daemon begins feeding you off his own fork and plate. After a few bites, alternating between the pork your husband was feeding you and the roll you were still tearing apart, a feeling of nausea began to overtake you.

You motion for Daemon to stop, at the same time placing your left hand over your stomach. “Daem, I don’t-“

You don’t even get to finish your sentence before you jump from your chair and turn around just in time to throw up behind the table and not in front of the entirety of the throne room. Daemon is at your side instantly as is Lyonel, and who is already yelling for the maesters. Before you can even really catch your breath, you get sick again.

Muscles in your abdomen tighten as a cramp shoots through you. You cry out in pain and Daemon can’t stand it anymore as he picks you up bridal style out of the throne room and to the privacy of your chambers where the maesters can take care of you properly.

Long after the throne room had emptied and Rhaenyra and Laenor were wed the maesters came looking for Daemon. Despite fighting to stay by your side, Viserys convinced his brother to step away from you and allow maester Orwyle to do his work.

Orwyle approached Daemon, accompanied by his brother and Lord Lyonel, with his hand laced together in front of him, a grim look upon his face. “Prince Daemon,” the maester begins solemnly. “I come with grave news. I’m afraid your lady wife has lost the babe, my prince.”

The news hits Daemon like a punch to the gut, but he swallows his grief for the moment. “And what of my wife? Is she alive?”

“Yes, my prince. She’s asleep now, I gave her milk of the poppy to ease her pains.”

Lyonel steps forward, “What’s the cause of such illness? The princess seemed fine all evening.”

Maester Orwyle nods grimly, “I believe the princess’s illness to be a direct result of greycap poisoning. How the princess ingested such a thing is yet to be discovered, but I will not stop until I’ve discovered it. Thankfully this is not the first time I’ve encountered such a thing.”

Viserys reached out a grateful hand and squeezed his trusted maester’s shoulder. “Thank you, Orwyle. Your services do not go unnoticed.”

Daemon turns away from the group of men and begins down the hall for your shared chambers.

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Two weeks after the attempted assassination and you finally began to feel healthy again. Daemon hardly left your side during your healing process like he no longer trusted anyone else in the world with your care. Maester Orwyle was still giving regular updates to Viserys which you advised him was unnecessary.

It wasn’t the poisoning that had been plaguing you the past couple weeks, it was the loss of your unborn babe. This was your first pregnancy, and neither you or Daemon could’ve been happier to receive the official word from the maester. Everything was going well in terms of the pregnancy until the attempt on your life.

You couldn’t help but spend your time recovering riddled with the guilt of the idea that you could’ve- should’ve done more to protect your baby. Your one job for nine months was to home and protect your baby and you felt you’d failed completely. As a wife, especially to someone of Daemon’s status- the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, your job was to give your husband as many heirs as possible, and you couldn’t even do that.

The guilt had been eating away at the strong resolve you’d built over the years of being an outspoken woman in court. You’d failed your husband, your one true love. Now, even weeks later and after everything he’d done to support you, you found it difficult more now than ever to meet Daemon’s eyes.

When you first learned you were with child you were beyond ecstatic as was Daemon. Despite his previous union, Daemon had yet to become a father and was looking forward to becoming one. You hadn’t any children either and the two of you spoke often of various names for your unborn babe, and began to pick out some of Westeros’s finest silks and fabrics for clothes to be sewn. Now there was no need.

How he didn’t revolt away in disgust, you had no idea. You couldn’t understand why Daemon would stay so loyally by your side when you’d been so unprepared to give him a healthy child. Daemon’s own loyalty did nothing ut remind you just how majorly you’d failed him, and this worked as the straw that finally broke down all the fight you’d had left.

So, you wrote the king a letter.

King Viserys I Targaryen,

I must first apologize to you for the chaos my circumstances has caused the Red Keep as it was never my intentions to cause such disruptions within your court. My brother Qoren stressed the importance of my union with your brother Daemon, and the past year I’ve spent as his wife has been the happiest year of them all.

So it is with a broken heart, and the purest of intentions, that I graciously ask you to annul my marriage to Daemon so such tragedies do not continue to plague your court.

I leave for Dorne as soon as I hand off this letter, where I will be awaiting your word in Dorne alongside Qoren. I thank you for the kindness and generosity you have shared with me this past year, your Grace. I wish you good health and fortune.

Sincerely,

Lady Y/n Targaryen of House Martell.

And true to your word, you along with your lady in waiting Sylva, whom you’d known from before your marriage to Daemon, snuck out of the Red Keep from under the guards’ noses and set out for Dorne.

Viserys received the letter hours after your departure, just as you’d instructed the maid to do, after Daemon had taken off on Caraxes for Dragonstone on crown business. In the time that he’d known you, the king had never known you to be one to hide away in a dark corner when trials and tribulations came your way. The king knows Martells to live honorably by their words “unbowed, unbroken, unbent,” a sentiment that had been proven when he met you.

Unfortunately for the king, Daemon would not return for another day or so, and therefore would be delayed in receiving the news of your departure for Dorne. Viserys wanted to keep the matter close at hand as he hadn’t wished for yet another set of rumors to go swirling about about Daemon. He feared his brother’s reaction should he have sent a messenger to Dragonstone to inform the rogue prince, so Viserys decided to wait until Daemon’s return to deliver the news himself.

That’s exactly how Viserys met Daemon two days later in the Dragonpit. Daemon had just barely slid from the saddle strapped to Caraxes when approached by the king.

Before wither man has the chance to utter a word, Viserys extends his hand out to his brother, your letter in hand. “This was delivered to me two days ago, brother. I was hoping to have the matters resolved before your return, but I’m afraid I have been unsuccessful in reaching Y/n.”

Daemon snatches the letter from Viserys’ hand at the mention of your name and he wastes no time in reading it. His first reaction is anger- how dare you leave King’s Landing? How dare you leave him, your husband? The parchment of your letter crumples in his closing fist as Daemon turns away from his brother and back to Caraxes.

“Daemon!” Viserys lurches forward, trying to reason with his temperamental younger brother. “you must proceed with caution, Daemon! Your actions are sure to have dreadful consequences should you not think before you act.”

Daemon whips back around to face the king, shoving him hard once in the chest with both hands. “I do not need you to govern how I act, brother. Much less in the matters involving my wife.”

With that, Daemon mounted the great blood wyrm and set out for Dorne just as he had the first time.

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Qoren wasn’t exactly pleased with you upon your return, moreso afraid of what Daemon might do to Dorne as a result of your abandonment. Though you confidently assured your brother King Viserys would handle the matters, you weren’t entirely convinced yourself.

Daemon was as unpredictable as any man, though twice as dangerous on the back of a fire breathing dragon. Even the time the two of you spent together would not ensure your safety should the wrath of House Targaryen turn its ugly head towards Dorne.

Despite the circumstances, you were happy to be home. Before your marriage you had never left Dorne before, and you’d missed the familiar comforts of your homeland while you were away. You spent time with your brother and some of his friends, catching up on all the Dornish things you’d missed while you were away.

After the second round of wine began to be poured, a member of the Martell Guard steps forward towards Qoren. “My prince, a dragon has been spotted circling overhead.”

Qoren looks to you first as if telling you to deal with the problem yourself. You sigh and reluctantly stand from your seat. “I shall take care of it,” you announce.

Daemon has landed outside the gates of Sunspear and already dismounted from Caraxes. The moment the gates opened and he first caught a glimpse of you, he began making his way to you. You met him halfway despite the tightening knots of nausea twisting in your stomach.

Still you don’t meet Daemon’s eyes as he approaches you, afraid of his fury. Daemon is but two steps from you now and he finally plants his feet. “Imagine my dismay,” he begins. “upon returning home to King’s Landing only to be informed my lovely wife had fled back to the sun scorched sands of her homeland after asking my own brother to free her from our marriage. Tell me, wife, did you intentionally wait until I had departed from the Keep to make your escape? Or was it purely circumstance?”

His lilac eyes are furious. Daemon is no doubt holding his tongue to keep from saying something he might truly regret. A part of you wishes he wouldn’t, however. You wish he would let go and take out his anger on you, as you believed you deserved it.

Tears began to well in your eyes as you finally met your husband’s gaze. “I only meant to rid you of your burdens, my prince. A man of such status as you musn’t be burdened by the troubles of a wife who cannot provide..”

Somehow you don’t have it in yourself to finish your sentence before erupting into uncontrollable sobs. Daemon reaches out for you and pulls you into a tight embrace despite your desperate pleas. He allows you to cry into his chest for a moment before grasping your face in his large hands and forces you to look at him.

It’s only then you notice his eyes are red and wet with tears as well. “You had nothing to do with the poison, or with the death of our babe, dear wife. Had it been up to us, our dragon would still be in your belly, would it not?”

“Yes,” you cried pitifully, reaching one hand down to caress your stomach where you once felt the growing of your babe. “I want my baby, Daem. I want my baby.” You all but collapsed in your husband’s arms, using his large stature as support.

“I know,” he replies, voice thick with emotion. “and I swear to you, Y/n, that I will not stop until I have Ser Gerold’s head on a spike. Until then, my love, we can always try for another if you so wish.”

You pulled away, sobs ceased for the moment. “Ser Gerold? Of Runestone? What does he have to do with these matters?”

Daemon clenches his jaw before relenting. “I believe, as does Maester Orwyle, Ser Gerold is behind the attempt on your life and the murder of our babe. I planned to make way for Runestone upon my return to the Keep, but I’m afraid I’ve been side tracked.”

In that moment the guilt that had settled itself in your gut quickly turned to a bright hot rage. “Take me with you,” you demand forcefully. “and we shall show Ser Gerold, and the rest of the realm, just what happens when you scorn the house of dragons.”

A wicked grin spreads across Daemon’s face before he offers you his hand. “Come, dear wife, and we shall show them all.”

You grasped his hand in yours before beginning towards Caraxes, but not before Daemon pulls you to a stop and leans down to bring you into a kiss. Daemon has never been one to kiss you slowly, typically opting for quick kisses in the eyes of others, and more passionate kisses for the bedroom.

But now as the two of you stand wrapped around each other in the Dornish heat, he kisses you softly, slowly. As if he’s trying to tell you he loves you in the only way he knows how.

When the two of you finally part, you smile up at him. Your first genuinely happy smile in nearly a month. Perhaps Viserys knew just what he was doing in delaying your request for that annulment.

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puchosdementa · 1 year

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i luv him guys this is real

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biggestsimponhere · 1 year

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

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kasagia · 1 year

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Could you make something like where klaus' girlfriend/wife is really attractive and all of his enemies want her(like lucien or tristan)?

Everybody wants to steal my girl

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x reader Summary: Klaus (and you) have been struggling with hybrid's jealousy for 1,000 years. It doesn't help that you're stunningly beautiful and that all his enemies want to steal you from him. But Klaus will not let his wife ever leave his side—or worse, lose her feelings for him. Even if he is "slightly" insecure about himself. Warning(s): jealous Klaus, jealous reader, a bit smut (I think) but not 18+, Klaus being an insecure puppy Word count: 7k I guess

She's been my queen since we were sixteen, we want the same things We dream the same dreams, alright, alright?

Klaus stormed into the abattoir in a rage. He promised himself that he would rip Lucien's heart out of his chest as soon as the circumstances were right, making sure he had suffered enough for his heinous act beforehand.

Klaus was the only one who could flirt with his wife.

He'd have to make sure that this pathetic creature got the message the next time they met. Lucien had condemned his life to death anyway, but Klaus might have had the pity to spare him from his creative torture.

Y/N didn't like it when he got blood on the floor. And when their daughter Hope came into the world, she tried to keep the violence around her to a minimum. Which didn't mean Klaus shouldn't fight every potential suitor of his baby's mother. Hope would agree with him if she was old enough.

When he calmed down, he decided to look into the room of their miracle child. He smiled, leaning against the doorframe as he saw Y/N putting their daughter to sleep. She sang an Old Norse lullaby they both knew from their human days.

Klaus flashed back to the days when he was just a teenager, head over heels in love with the daughter of their village chief. Then he wouldn't even have had a chance to hold her hand in public. His family was lower in the village hierarchy, which meant he could only dream of marrying a(n) Y/N. Which didn't stop them from falling in love. And turning her into a vampire with the Mikaelson siblings—the only thing he owed to his mother.

They both wanted and dreamed of the same thing: being together. They've had their ups and downs over the past thousand years, but they've always stayed together. She was the only person in their family that Klaus had never stabbed. Besides, he couldn't. She was a hybrid, just like him. After breaking his curse, it turned out that their lost dreams of having a family together weren't all that lost. Hope appeared. And they both hoped she wouldn't be their only child. But first, they had to deal with their enemies.

Klaus knew he would do anything to protect his girls. And in moments like this—when Y/N smiled softly at him, holding their sleeping daughter in her arms—he knew that his efforts were damn well worth the hard work and sleepless nights.

His wife might just not be so irresistibly, wonderfully beautiful at every fucking moment of the day. It would have saved him a lot of nerves and fits of jealousy every time someone flirted with his goddess.

"Tough day?" Y/n asked, placing her hand on his cheek. Klaus didn't even notice when she approached him.

"It's better since I've seen you, love." he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest to bury his nose in her delightfully fragrant hair.

Klaus adored every inch of her.

I know, I know, I know for sure Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

On days like this, Klaus was more murderous than usual.

Y/N knew full well that after agreeing to Tristan's polite request for a dance, Klaus was going to explode tonight. Not that she wanted to dance with the brother of a bitch who wanted to take her husband. Tristan's compliments to her, or even the subtle hints of his attraction to her, weren't pleasant to her either.

That was the plan: she was to distract Tristan while Klaus and Freya searched their house. The only thing Elijah didn't take into account was Klaus' enormous tendency to get jealous every time he touched her or received a compliment from another man.

Y/N could have sworn she saw Kol in the crowd eating a pack of popcorn, waiting for things to happen.

So she wasn't surprised when Klaus appeared at one point, snatching her from Tristan's arms with a warning growl. Or that he later marked her neck carefully and every inch of her body that had been contaminated by another man's hands.

Y/N was HIS and no one could ever change that. Not when he was around.

Elijah then burst into your room, being very annoyed at his brother's behavior. But honestly? He should have known better than to hope Klaus wouldn't give in to his jealousy. Tristan was lucky he didn't rip his hands off on the spot. On that day, the second of their first-turned vampires handed down a death sentence. Klaus wouldn't let anyone steal his wife.

Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

The cup of bitterness overflowed in Klaus when Lucien approached you on your annual "wedding anniversary" date. Yes, Klaus dared to show enough of his sentimental and tender side to declare this day a national holiday. No murders and no bodies on this day - that's what he promised you thousands of years ago.

But when he brought your order to the table and saw Lucien shamelessly flirting with you in front of him, inviting you for a drink at his suite, he seriously considered breaking that oath.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do that. He would rather avoid your wrath.

So instead, he walked over to your table with a sly, confident smirk, put the food on the table, and, grabbing your chin, pulled you close to kiss you passionately in front of the vampire.

He was marking his territory.

You smiled as Niklaus ignored Lucien's awkward grunt, only kissing you fiercely. He only let you go when he was sure your lips were swollen enough from his kiss. He smirked at your slightly disheveled state.

"Were you very bored without me, love?" he asked, playing with your hair.

"I kept her company, Klaus." the hybrid winced at Lucien's voice. He mustered up all the rest of his patience and turned his head, acknowledging the vampire's presence.

"Oh really? I didn't notice you, Lucien. You can go now." he brushed him off, turning back to you. Disgust in his gaze gave way to pure adoration. You were always amazed at how quickly you could change his mood with just your presence.

"Nik, sweetheart, it's very inappropriate to talk like that to our oldest friends, isn't it? Lucien, darling, we'll continue our conversation someday. You have to forgive me, but I promised my grumpy husband that I would focus all my attention on him today." you excused the two of you with a cute smile. Lucien just nodded, blushing.

You grabbed Klaus' arm and pulled him out of the bar before he lunged at the vampire.

"Niklaus, my heart and soul, you know I'm only yours, right?" you asked, kissing his cheek to stifle the surge of his jealousy.

"Yes. Which doesn't mean that this creature knows it too. And I'm not grumpy." he grunted, the furrow of irritation on his forehead deepening as he remembered Lucien's sweet words to you. He wanted to vomit as soon as you answered him in an equally nice and polite tone. "Every enemy of mine has a crush on you anyway; even my father doesn't feel disgusted and murderous toward you."

"Yes? You should have seen Aurora's face when she passed us a few minutes ago. She must have sent Lucien here to spoil our evening."

"Wait a minute, love... is that why you've drawn me to this very nice, unexpected, passionate, mind-blowing kiss in the middle of the street?" he asked with an incredulous smirk, watching with satisfaction as a treacherous blush crept onto your cheeks.

"What am I supposed to say? You're as territorial in this relationship as I am. Besides, we don't want to give our enemies the false impression that we see anything but each other, do we?"

"It's good to know you get jealous of me from time to time too, love."

"Time to time? Please, have you seen yourself in the mirror? I'm still at war with all these horny women who want to steal you from me. Such cheekbones, wonderful eyes, and an English accent are the dreams of many."

"Maybe, but I'm probably the one who chases away the most suitors out of the two of us. You have no idea how many people have had a crush on you over the centuries."

Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Oh yeah Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Alright Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na She belongs to me

There was going to be a celebration of the summer solstice in their village. Young Klaus was just waiting for you to sneak out with him after the ceremonial rites for your own celebration.

You've been courting each other for over three years now, and today Klaus was finally going to pluck up the courage (with the help of Elijah and Rebekah and Kol's teasing) to propose to you. The ring was safely in his pocket, and the sword was well hidden where the two of you were supposed to spend a romantic evening.

Everything was planned and ready. Nothing could go wrong today. He anticipated and ready for every circumstance, and his mother (the only one of your parents who knew about this secret relationship) promised him to keep his father away from your tryst's place.

But it never occurred to him that another man would try to steal you away from him.

Thor Ragnarsson, the strongest and most powerful young warrior from their village, has been dancing with you since the beginning of the night. And it didn't seem like he was going to let you go that easily, and after the rumors he heard from Kol, Klaus found out that the man wanted to court you.

Klaus had a panic attack. How could he—weak, one of the many sons of a lesser warrior—compete with such a man for your hand? Thor could give you much more than he can. He was stronger, richer, more famous, and handsomer... No. He couldn't think like that. Not when you were destined for each other by fate, stars, spirits, gods, or whatever was watching over you. He had to do something, and fast, before that son of a bitch charms you and you forget the boy who wrote you poems and painted your portraits on the bark of trees.

Klaus may not have been the strongest, but he had something that many of their villagers lacked. He had the cunning, brains, and skill of the best assassin. He will snatch you from this brute's clutches. But first he'll have to figure out how to do it (and take control of the deepening feelings of jealousy that clouded his good judgment.)

Thor only had two weaknesses. Beautiful women and strong drinks. He doubted that he would get drunk so easily; they don't know each other, so even if he offered him something stronger to drink (with an admixture of sleeping herbs), he would probably refuse and sense Klaus' ruse. So he had to resort to Plan B.

"Rebekah!" he shouted, trying to find his sister in the dancing crowd. He found her pretty quickly. He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from talking to some man (whom he and Elijah needed to check out in the future) and dragged the protesting blonde to a place where they could watch you and Thor. "I need your help. Do you see this skunk who is talking to my Y/N? Please distract him so I and Y/N can run away from there. You know I wanted to propose to her tonight, and that lesser man is ruining my whole plan!"

"Couldn't you have asked Tatia? She would have helped you because of Elijah."

"They got out of here before Kol could scare off another woman. Please, Rebekah. Won't you do it for your favorite brother?"

"She better say yes." she sighed in defeat, threading herself into the dancing crowd. After a moment, she hit Y/N's partner and winked at Klaus. He didn't waste a second. He ran over to you and, making sure everyone was too busy to notice you, threw you over his shoulder and took you from there.

"Nik! You can put me down now." she laughed at him as they entered the forest. Klaus reluctantly set her down, immediately drawing her into a passionate kiss, which she eagerly returned. "What took you so long?"

"I had to make sure the inconvenience wouldn't bother us when we sneaked out."

"That inconvenience has a name. Besides, Thor's just my friend. We both know very well that my heart belongs to only one man in this village."

"And who is it, love?"

"Well, he's quite tall; he has blonde hair and beautiful, mesmerizing blue eyes; and he's artistically talented. I've never seen more beautiful things than the ones he's made, and he's soooo jealous of me, but that's only because he loves me and he's pretty insecure about himself. Thinking about it like that, I guess I should make sure he knows how much I desire and love him so he doesn't come up with some weird ideas. What do you think?"

"I think this man was born under a lucky star to be worthy of a miracle like you."

"I forgot to add that he charms me with his words like no one else." you murmured, placing a tender kiss on his lips, which accelerated the rhythm of your already madly beating hearts. He pushed you into a tree, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close, not wanting the world to let this moment between you ever end. You pulled away from him, placing your hand gently on his cheek. You smiled, looking at him with love in your eyes as he turned his head to kiss your hand. "I dare not agree with you. I'm the lucky one to have you, Niklaus. And believe me, nothing on this earth can change the way I love you. Nothing is even close enough to steal me from your safe, loving arms."

"So what do you say when..." he knelt down in front of you, trembling with nerves as he took a hand-made ring from his pocket. "Will I offer you my heart, soul, and body forever? You have my eternal devotion, loyalty, and love regardless of your answer, but know that it will be a real honor and a gift from the gods to call you my wife and to have a family with you. I want nothing more in this world than for you to be mine, Y/N. And I may not be the best choice; I am not very rich or strong, but I promise you that I will try to be the best husband for you."

"Oh, Niklaus, you stupid, insecure man... of course I will marry you!" you screamed with tears in your eyes, throwing yourself at him and knocking the two of you to the ground. You both laughed happily as you kissed each other's faces. Klaus gently slid the ring onto your finger.

One satisfying thought lingered in his mind as you both lounged in the field, embracing each other and watching the stars, talking about your future together.

She belongs to me.

Kisses like cream, her walk is so mean And every jaw drops when she's in those jeans, alright, alright? I don't exist if I don't have her The sun doesn't shine, the world doesn't turn, alright, alright?

"Any party you forgot to invite me to?" Klaus flinched at your pretentious, cold tone of voice. He turned away from the table to explain why Lucien, Aurora, and Tristan were sitting at the table with him and his brothers but fell silent, trying to keep his jaw from dropping.

"You look breathtaking as always, darling. Tristan and I missed having a beautiful woman at this table." Klaus stared murderously at Lucien as he kissed your hand, ignoring Aurora's offended snort. He knew you did it on purpose.

This morning, when he asked you to take Hope to visit Aunt Hayley for the day, you were wearing a completely different outfit. Now you were wearing those annoyingly tight jeans that showed off your curves perfectly, and you knew he loved them. Paired with a plunging neckline blouse, diamond jewelry, and little makeup, you looked like a goddess. Aurora could hide in the septic tank with her elegant, short dress.

You smirked at Aurora, sitting down between Lucien and Tristan, across from your husband. And that, too, was a deliberate ploy. You were out of reach of his hands to tease him with your beauty even more, regaling those idiots by your side with your heavenly presence. Klaus will make sure you pay for your little feat tonight.

He shot you a warning look as he noticed Lucien inching slightly closer to you, but you ignored him completely, smiling at some comment from the younger vampire.

Oh, yes, you will definitely be punished.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" you asked him, knowing full well where his thoughts wandered.

"No. You're messing up the world order by fawning over this scoundrel instead of sitting next to me."

"Perfectly fine, love. Just admiring your beauty tonight."

"Only mine?" you asked, casually swirling her glass of wine and glancing meaningfully at Aurora, who tensed slightly under your gaze. You smiled meanly, ignoring Elijah's staring at you with irritation.

After failing to get anything meaningful out of Lucien (Klaus wouldn't let you get close enough to use his tricks), Elijah figured Aurora's weakness for Klaus could be exploited. But this time he didn't anticipate that you'd pick up on your husband's jealous behavior.

And you were much worse than the mighty hybrid.

"You know you're the only one I belong to, love." Klaus finally answered, shocking the younger vampires. They had never witnessed the world's deadliest vampire softly professing his love and devotion to you. You smiled sweetly at him, offering him your hand, which he kissed without hesitation. You shot a malicious, defiant look at Aurora.

They thought he had you wrapped around his finger, but it turns out to be quite the opposite...

Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

"Cheer up, she's just talking to him and not even of her own free will, Nik." you heard Kol calming down your husband when you tried to get information from Lucien.

For some reason, a vampire who has been impersonating your husband over the years has fallen for your extraordinary beauty and become infatuated with you.

Elijah decided to try again and use this to your advantage, much to Klaus' displeasure and fury. This time, Elijah put his other younger brother on guard. Honestly, it was fun to watch Kol occasionally hold Klaus by his henley to keep him from running towards you.

But of the two evils, Kol preferred to fight Klaus' jealousy over yours. You have proven more than once that you are a more dangerous opponent than his already bloodthirsty brother.

"Are you alright, darling?" Lucien pulled you out of your thoughts as he looked at you with concern.

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired. Hope's been getting on my nerves lately. She's so little, and she already has her dad's temper."

"A beautiful and caring woman like you deserves one night off." he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and placing a flower there in the process. You had to admit that it was a very sweet gesture. You blushed involuntarily, smiling shyly at the vampire. "Will you do me the honor?" he asked, extending his hand towards you. You really didn't want to flirt with him, but Elijah didn't give you much of a way out. You hoped Klaus knew that. But from the burning look you could feel in the back of your head as Lucien led you to the dance floor, you knew you were bound to have a fit of jealousy at home.

You just hoped no one would die until you were alone in the same room with your husband to ease his jealousy.

You glanced out of the corner of your eye at Kol and Klaus' hideout. You almost burst out laughing as you saw the two brothers jostling with each other as Kol was trying hard to hold Klaus by his henley.

"Bloody hell, calm down before I put a dog muzzle around your neck!" Kol hissed at him, deftly dodging Klaus' fangs as he tried to inject him with his werewolf venom.

Fortunately, Freya came and took control of them, thanks to which the rest of the night went without incident (except that Klaus barged in at the end of the party and, together with Kol, pretending to be drunk, laughed at their ball. The divas, as always, had to show up.)

You thought everything would be fine, but on the way back, Nik didn't say a word to you, only holding your hand in an iron grip as he put up with Kol's story about what a "jealous and rabid dog" he had been throughout the whole ball.

The son of a bitch only made him angrier and escaping to Davina at the first possible opportunity after you were parked under abattoir.

The rest of the siblings got out of the car quickly, leaving you and Klaus alone. You had to defuse the ticking time bomb that was your husband before it was too late, and also on your own.

"Nik..." you began in a sweet tone, but the man didn't even look up from your joined hands as he played with your wedding ring on your finger. "Nik, listen…"

"Do you regret your decision?"he blurted out, not letting you finish your sentence.

"What?" you asked, shocked about his unexpected, serious question.

You turned to him so you could get a better look at him. He was staring at your hands nervously. You could feel his grip tightening with every second of the tense silence between you two.

"Do you regret marrying me?" he asked in a trembling, rueful voice.

"Oh, Niklaus... my best friend, my king, my soulmate. How could I ever regret marrying my first, true, epic love?" you took his cheeks in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. "I love you. All of you. In your good and bad days, and nothing can change that. None knows me as well as you do. Nobody is even close to making me feel the way you have been making me feel for these last thousand years. You are my peace, my home, my security, my heart, and my everything. There could be a billion people asking for my hand, and I'll choose you again, and again, and again. You, our sweet Hope, and your siblings are the only ones I care about in this bloody world. I'm yours, Niklaus, and I'm not going anywhere in the following eternity."

"Good." he murmured, barely holding back tears, and pulled you into a needy kiss.

You grabbed his shoulders and straddled him, knowing full well that, after moments of uncertainty like this, he needed your tender, firm touch.

And with the uncles and aunts watching over your daughter, you were more than willing to take care of your insecure husband.

The next day you woke up alone in your bed, but in a room filled with various beautiful flowers… none of them were like the one Lucien had given you and Klaus had burned.

Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Oh yeah Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Alright Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na

You lay in bed together, sleeping off the long weeks of fighting the de Martels and Lucien. You finally killed them, returning to that blissful, peaceful state. AND! Hope has gained a new Uncle Finn and Grandpa Ansel. And it looked like Aunt Davina would join your happy, crazy, Mikaelosn's bunch, thanks to Kol. Klaus allowed them to look after the baby under the watchful eye of Rebekah and Freya.

It'll probably be years before he trusts them enough to leave them alone with Hope, but that's just how your husband was.

Always a protector, a warrior, repelling any evil that could reach his loved ones.

"Stop thinking. Go back to sleep." he murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

Lately, he has had a strange urge to stay very close to you. Maybe it's because spring is coming? You didn't want to ask him about his wolf side yet. He was fairly new to it and... shy. You were glad that now Ansel would be able to help him understand his other half.

"I thought we established a long time ago that I disobey your orders." you started to comb his hair, smiling as you heard him purr softly. He deserved to rest after bravely defending your family. You didn't know how much time you had left until another bomb exploded in your face.

"You could at least pretend to be a little obedient to your husband." he huffed, his eyes still closed.

"Me? Obedient? I thought you knew what you were taking, Mikaelson. Now, it's too late for any returns." you snorted, amused. Klaus graciously opened one eye, staring at you adoringly.

"I did. You're mine forever." he replied seriously, making your cheeks flush furiously and your heart speed up.

"Good." you whispered, placing a tender, short kiss on his lips.

"Good." he replied, cupping your cheeks and kissing you "properly" stealing your breath away. You enjoyed a moment to yourselves, touching each other tenderly, grounding in the familiar feeling of another's lips.

You two needed it after weeks of jealousy and uncertainty on both sides. Reminders that nothing and no one can take each other away. You belonged to him as much as he belonged to you. Soul and body.

You still were kissing as Klaus slid his hand down your neck, breasts, and belly and started to lift your shirt, making you shiver every time your bare skin made brief contact with his fingertips.

Suddenly, Hope's cry came from downstairs, effectively breaking the moment between the two of you. Klaus groaned, resting his forehead against yours.

"Your daughter is calling us."

"And since when is she just my daughter?"

"Since she's been demanding our attention purely because of her current mood. You spoiled her, Nik, and she's not even 4."

"I know another woman I've spoiled, and she's not complaining about it at all. Maybe that's not a bad thing."

"Just bring her here. I need her too." you backed out, knowing full well you couldn't win this fight. Thousands of dresses, jewelry, and your portraits painted by Klaus spoke clearly against you. Hope may have been spoiled by her dad, but over the past thousand years (and probably many more to come), your husband has made sure you get everything you want. Even a fucking star in the sky.

"As you wish, love." he murmured, kissing your forehead before going to fetch your daughter.

She knows, she knows that I never let her down before She know, she knows that I'm never gonna let take another take her love from me

Klaus couldn't let his guard down. You just had to attract everyone with your beauty. Even the Salvatore brothers. He wasn't worried about Damon. He was too smitten with Elena to even think about making a move to get your affection. But Stefan… the golden, Salvatore hero—who had some dark points in common with him but was definitely a better choice than him. Bloody hell, he would want him too, if he had to choose between himself and him. So he has to work really hard to prove to you that he may be better than Stefan.

It didn't help that the younger vampire was stealing you in front of him and dancing with you most of the time at his mother's ball.

Not also the fact that you were willing to let him lead you after Klaus argued with you about Esther's intentions. You sensed something wrong with her aura, but Klaus believed (or wanted to believe) that his mother meant well. That, like him, she wanted to reunite the family.

You guys argued pretty hard about it. And now you were dancing in the arms of his enemy, honoring him with your beauty, smile and attention.

The worst part of it all was that you didn't send him a single malicious smirk. You didn't tease him like you usually did after your fights. You didn't even notice him as he watched you doggedly, tipping another glass of champagne. His name probably never crossed your mind this evening.

He played with the wedding ring on his finger, watching carefully as Salavtore flirted with you in front of him. He promised himself that this time he wouldn't give in to his jealousy. He won't play by the rules of your game, and he won't play the jealous husband. You will come to him yourself and apologize to him.

At least that was the plan until he saw you take your wedding ring off.

This was too fucking much for him.

He set his glass down on the table and with a quick, slightly unsteady step, walked over to the two of you and twisted Stefan's arm, the exact one he had dared to touch your bare shoulder.

Salvatore groaned, drawing the attention of those around you. But you stood firm as you watched your husband break at least two of his bones. He released Stefan in disgust and grabbed your hand, dragging you through the crowd of onlookers to his studio - the only place where no one would dare disturb you.

"What the hell was that?!" he shouted, slamming the door behind the two of you in anger.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, sweetheart."

"For your own good, don't make me more mad than I already am, love."

"And you, for your own good, remember that I AM NOT the meek wife you can order around! I'm the hybrid, like you, an original. You have no power over me, wolfie, no one has."

"Are you sure, love?" he growled throatily, taking a big step towards her. You backed up until you hit the wall behind you. Klaus walked over to you, your chests rubbing against each other with every breath you took.

He suddenly kissed you aggressively, taking out all his anger and insecurity on you as he bit into your enticing mouth and began sucking the slowly oozing blood. He groaned at the sweet, addictive taste on his tongue.

With one hand, he untangles your complicated hairstyle and wraps your hair around his hand, tilting your head back. While he was busy fucking your neck with kisses, you took advantage of his distraction, digging your nails into his arms, taking revenge for biting your lip. He hissed, annoyed at your bratty attitude, and pressed his lips to yours again. Once he had distracted you, he gave away two of your dresses and slapped you hard on the ass. You moaned into the kiss, rubbing against him, making him even crazier with desire. He had to control himself before you went too far for him to carry out his plan.

"Such a willing… so needy whore for me." you moaned as he brushed against your core, still teasing you, his fangs on your neck as he bit your skin gently. "What a pity I only fuck with my wife." he growled, pushing away from you and heading towards the exit.

"Niklaus!" you gasped in anger as his body heat left you.

"Put your wedding ring back on, and maybe I will help you with your... little problem." he threw over his shoulder, ignoring your shouts of protest and threats.

He didn't even get his hand on the doorknob when you pinned him to the door, kissing him passionately. He grinned, throwing you onto the piano in the corner as he caught a glimpse of the familiar black gold on your finger out of the corner of his eye. Where the fuck should always be. He leaned over you, grabbing your chin hard to make you look into his eyes. Need and lust shone in your irises, making him harder than ever.

"You're mine. I am the only bloody man who'll ever hear your sweet moaning in pleasure like a whore. Nobody can take you away from me. Don't ever dare to think you can have any lover but me."

"Then stop talking and prove it."

"With a fucking pleasure, love." he growled, kissing you hungrily as he tore your dress in half.

Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

Hayley and Jackson's son stayed over at Hope's, and Klaus was more terrified than when he had fought his father. His little girl was playing with some kid. What if he started flirting with her? He had read somewhere that kids that age often find "boyfriends and girlfriends" and call every other person they are friends with that. He wasn't ready to hear from his little daughter that she had a boyfriend.

So ever since Hayley brought him in, he'd been giving the boy a stern look, much to his wife's annoyance. Klaus' reluctance gradually began to turn into indifference when, after hours of time Hope spent with her friend, he did not notice anything suspicious. They'd lasted all day, and there was no indication that the kid would have to be wiped off the face of the earth (or at least taken back to his parents immediately).

But then came breakfast. And Klaus noticed that this kid was staring at you in adoration. And he didn't like it at all.

He was not at all prepared for the insult, the insult directed at him, which the child said after you helped him cut his food.

"You are beautiful and kind as an angel. When I grow up, I will be your husband." Klaus spat out his cup of tea, choking as you tried not to burst out laughing at the 6-year-old's comment and Nik' reaction.

"Honey... but I already have a husband. He'll be very sad if I find another." Hayley called her son, who said goodbye to you and ran to hug Hope before mom took him away. You looked at your stunned husband with amusement. "Well… at least you don't have to worry about him flirting with Hope."

"This kid won't be stepping over the threshold of this house again." he growled, leaving the room to make sure the little one was out for good.

"Niklaus! It is just a child!" you shouted after him, laughing at his jealousy as you ran to make sure he didn't intimidate the poor boy.

Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

It's been quite a few years since Klaus' last fit of jealousy. After the (victory) fight against Inadu, you were finally able to enjoy a moment of normality.

You had lunch at some diner in Mystic Falls; you visited Hope at her school, and somehow it happened that a group of her colleagues accosted her. She introduced you, you chatted with them for a while, and everything was supposed to be a normal dinner with your daughter and her friends, until one of them... crossed the line.

"Now we know from whom Hope inherited such loveliness. You are very beautiful, Mrs. Mikaelson."

You quickly grabbed Klaus' hand across the table, politely thanking the boy. Hope, seeing what was going on, escorted her friends away and left you alone for a moment.

"Niklaus, he's just a teenager."

"Uhm." he muttered absently, staring with daggers at the departing boy.

"He could be our son, for God's sake!"

"Most people on this planet could be our children, but that doesn't stop them from flirting with my wife." you rolled your eyes, smiling with amusement as he growled at the boy staring at you when Hope was explaining something to him. The poor guy looked away in panic and ran away as fast as he could.

You were going to scold your husband for scaring your daughter's friends, but you decided to leave it to Hope. The smart girl knew how to talk to her father better than you. Maybe she'd finally knock those stupid fits of jealousy out of his head, with which you've been struggling for 1,000 years.

"Your pregnant wife, I would like to point out. And we're not going anywhere. Certainly not with a teenager." you said, grabbing his chin and pulling him to you so you could kiss him. Klaus grunted, pleased with the feeling of your lips on his, and automatically placed his hand on your yet-unseen belly, smirking as he felt the pulse of the youngest member of the Mikaelson family growing inside you.

"I'm back!" Hope screamed, stepping behind you with a nervous smile. You raised an eyebrow, while looking at your daughter. Oh, no. You knew that look in her eyes. Klaus had the same gaze as he was about to do... something in Mikaelson's style. "Taking the opportunity... I mean, now that you're reassuring dad. Mom, Dad, I have a boyfriend. His name is Landon, and he's coming to the family dinner on Friday for all of you to meet him. So, bye! I'm going back to school. I love you both!" she said, kissing you both on the cheeks and leaving you both stunned. You burst out laughing at Klaus' shocked, defeated expression.

"Nik? Are you okay?" you asked, still laughing. Your husband's patience really was tested today.

"I told you we should stay in bed today. I knew something bad was about to happen." he growled, giving you a menacing look as you still couldn't stop laughing. You kissed the corner of his lips, a huge smirk still on your face. Klaus rolled his eyes but couldn't hold back his smirk any longer while he was looking at you. The power you hold over him... one your smile was easily changing his mood. Even in situations like this.

"Don't be such dramatic. It's probably better that Hope is dating teens than me, right?"

"Stop it, love." he growled, putting the money on the table. He grabbed your hand and led you out of the bar.

"Stop what?" you asked, pretending to be innocent as you strolled towards your car.

"Teasing me."

"But it's my favorite part of the day… and we all know you enjoy every ounce of my undivided attention." you replied, stopping both of you in front of the car and putting your hands on his shoulders. You stared at him with a mischievous smirk, playing with his hair. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he leaned against your car.

"You know you're ruining my carefully crafted reputation as the greatest evil in the world?"

"I'm not too concerned about this… how about you?"

His only response was a light chuckle before he kissed you with all his love for you. You smiled, cupping his cheeks and pulling him as close to you as possible. You both loved those moments of peace between the two of you. No witches, vampires, or werewolves wanting your death. Just the two of you in each other's arms, too busy with each other to care about anything else.

"Let's go home, love. Before that bunch of Salvatores come down here with white oak stakes." he hummed tenderly, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He could stare at your beautiful face for hours. Even if it meant dealing with the people who wanted to steal his goddess first. It was worth every effort to hold you in his arms again.

"I don't think we're on the top criminals list anymore. Stefan was recently joking that you had retired. And before you get a seizure in the middle of town, let me say that I didn't talk to him. Hope is friends with Delena's daughter. She might have overheard something."

"The gods must have punished me in some way for my many antics, so they sent me a wife to teach my daughter how to get on my nerves without even trying."

"Oh sweetheart. I love you too." you laughed as you both got into the car to go home.

Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Oh yeah Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Alright Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na She belongs to me

You were sitting in a rocking chair, holding your newborn son in your arms. The baby finally fell asleep peacefully, and you were afraid to make any move after hours of putting him to sleep. It looks like you'll have to sleep in this chair tonight.

"Rescue you, love?" Klaus' soft whisper tore your gaze from Henric Nikolas Mikaelson.

"I'd love to, but I'm afraid he'll wake up the moment he leaves my arms." Klaus slowly walked over to you, kneeling in front of you and gazing tenderly at the baby you held. "I guess you're going to have to come to terms with the fact that you're going to have to share me with someone else." the man rolled his eyes at the comment about his jealousy. He shifted his gaze to you and gently grabbed your hand, being careful not to let any sudden movement wake his son.

"I'll live with it as long as our kids are the only ones taking you from me."

"You are a very gracious, all-powerful hybrid." he chuckled, making a tired but genuine smile appear on your face. "Save yourself while you still can. I don't think I'm going back to bed tonight." you murmured, looking at the little usurper in your arms.

"Nonsense, you are going with me.." he lifted you from your chair with your soft, startled squeal and held you in his arms, careful not to wake your son. He carried you to the bed, making sure you were comfortable. He lay on his side, propping his head up with his hand, and stared at the two of you, spellbound. "You can sleep. I'll keep an eye on you two."

"Remember that your siblings and dad are coming tomorrow. Kol and Davina pick up Hope. And please, for God's sake, don't argue with Kol again about him being Henric's godfather, because we both know you don't want anyone else to take his place."

"Well, we always have Marcel and, God forbid, Finn. Besides, what kind of big brother would I be if I didn't torment him every chance I got?" you rolled your eyes, pressing your son to your chest, and used your free hand to grab your husband's hand.

"I just hope you didn't teach our daughter that."

"I'd be surprised if she didn't pick up on our habits herself." he murmured, kissing your hand and watching you fall into a peaceful sleep while holding your son and his hand. Your rings shone in the moonlight on your joined hands.

Yes... you were definitely belongs only to him.

2K notes · View notes

happilyhertale · 6 months

Text

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

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

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell

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

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

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

Word count: 3.3 k

Other stories of mine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whimper again and your fingers grab his biceps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You only whimper, followed by a loud moan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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studioghibelli · 11 days

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yellow - an oberyn martell x reader

summary: you've struggled to feel at home in the kingdom of dorne, far away from the land you once knew. your new husband, oberyn, has just the remedy to help you feel better.

warnings: arranged marriage, implied age gap, not canon at all, some fluff, smut (bath time fun time, cock warming, cock riding, i suppose a slight praise kink, prince oberyn being a good husband, finger sucking, etc)

note: for my sweet angel twizzy @ilovepedro this is for you <3 love you forever! also this has not been edited or spell checked LMAO sorrryyy. i know for sure that this isn’t my best work, but writing for a completely new character was definitely a bit of a challenge! nonetheless, i hope you all enjoy this. xx

There was a certain depth to his eyes that you had never noticed before, a silky richness that lay dormant behind the honeyed orbs that so often glowed from his skull. He was beautiful, no doubt, but your marriage had been one of comfort, a simple decision made without love between two kingdoms.

When you first arrived to the golden shores of Dorne, the first thing you gathered was how.... bright it was. Yellow flowers, golden dresses, amber tile work- it was a tapestry of color that your usual dresses of navy and lavender put an unwelcomed stain upon. You were unsure of how welcomed you would be, by the crowds, by the king, by your prince.

Yet now as you straddled him in the bathtub, soapy with orange scented bubbles and steaming hot water, his fingers pushing down the back of your throat were a welcome reminder that the prince not only welcomed you, but desired you.

He had found you in the dark of night, when sleep had abandoned you, and the silver light of the moon poured through your sky lights, bathing you in her cool richness. Oberyn had placed his mouth on your neck, his hand on your stomach, and his sweet words of comfort melted through your ear like dripping nectar, filling your chest with a warmth that you had not felt for quite some time.

A hot bath? he had asked, and you would have been a fool not to follow him naked down the dimly lit hallway.

And now you were here, water gently sloshing between the two of you, his hard cock nestled deep within the walls of your aching pussy, his mouth sucking a hardened nipple as his fingers gathered your dripping spit from the pad of your tongue. Oberyn was well versed in the ways of sex, and he had opened your eyes to a multitude of earthly delights that were once lost on your naive mind.

"Do you feel me inside of you, little dove? How hard I am for you?" Oberyn's teeth dragged across your jaw, a shiver coursing straight through your spine.

"Yes, my Prince. I do." You words were hot as your breath slipped from the partition of your lips. You couldn't help but drag your hips, his thumb tweaking at the swollen bud of your clit.

"And you.... look at you, dripping all over me. What a precious thing you are. You can hardly stand it, can you?"

You threw your neck back, his hand moving to the bottom of your neck. Oberyn held you there, his hot palm pressing into your flesh, as his middle finger traced shaped upon your clit. He stared at you curiously, intently, as though you were the only woman he had ever known.

“What is it?” You asked softly, the grip he had on your neck loosening.

Oberyn’s umber eyes softened, and he sat back further against the bathtub, bringing you down with him. Chest to chest, he looked at you through wet lashes, lips parting.

Something in the air shifted.

Something felt different. It was a sudden and subtle change, but one you felt nonetheless. One that made your chest compress with a newfound sense of anxiety.

“Are you happy here?” His voice was barely a whisper. His rough knuckles ghosted over the height of your cheekbone. You gulped thickly, staring back at him through the dim light of the bathroom.

The air was thick, palpable. You could have chewed on it if you opened your mouth for a mouth full of it.

Were you happy in Dorne? Were you happy with him?

The Prince was fun, charming, witty and bold, and you had seen the skill he possessed in combat. Any woman would be lucky to have him. You had seen the way he treated his nieces and nephews running about the back gardens, you had seen him talk to his brother about diplomacy and war. His hands were rough and his heart was gentle, he was the perfect dichotomy of both man and warrior.

He was Oberyn.

Curious, charming, playful Oberyn.

Your Oberyn. Your husband.

Husband. The word still felt foreign to your tongue.

Your thoughts wandered to the first night you spent together, Oberyn feeding you chocolate dipped cherries, licking dripping honey from the valley of your breasts as you two spoke of future dreams and childhood memories, lazily tangled up beneath silken sheets and a starry sky. He had shown a side to himself that not many people had the pleasure of knowing, a side to himself that you became fiercely enamored with.

"Happy?" You finally chimed. "Happy..."

Oberyn rested his forehead on yours, his hands running down your soapy sides. "Yes. Happy? I want you to be happy here."

"I am. With you." Your fingers found the wet strands of hair clinging to his forehead, and you tenderly pushed them back. "It was an adjustment, as all things are. But I have found myself.... very- very happy to be here, sharing my evenings with you."

Oberyn smiled, meeting you mouth with a tender kiss. His fingers traced gentle shapes into the small of your back, and you melted deeper in to him, like wax pouring off the sides of a candle. The Prince held you close, and you felt safe in his arms, safe against his chest, safe in his embrace.

He pulled back, basking in your beauty for a moment too long. "Sit back." He cooed, gently helping you off his lap. Your back pressed into the other end of the large tub, bubbles spreading across the valley of your breasts. "Spread your legs for me."

You did as he asked, parting your thighs so Oberyn could gaze upon your most sacred place, the place he had spent hours worshipping, like a lost man on pilgrimage to the Holy Land. There was hunger in his eyes, a dark, animalistic, primal hunger, and it slowly spread through the smile on his face.

"You're so beautiful, little dove. You were made to be a queen. My queen." You giggled softly, resting a foot on the edge of the bathtub as he crept closer. The tip of his index finger swirled across the opening of your cunt, and he smiled a devilishly smile at the feeling of your arousal.

"For me? You shouldn't have." He leaned forward, his teeth sinking in to the soft flesh of your neck. You moaned out as his fingers sunk deep within you, immediately finding the soft spongy spot that made your toes curl. Oberyn was skilled like that- he knew how to make you come undone in a moment, he knew how to play you like a violin, and you would gladly fill his ears with the sound of an orchestra.

Your hand rested on his broad shoulder, pulling him closer as he kept filling you up with two of his thick, long fingers, exploring parts of you that no man could ever find. His name was a mantra on the tip of your tongue, and you were the woman begging for penance. Like a prayer, Oberyn filled your mind. He was your redemption, he was your savior, and he knew how to elicit the sweetest sounds of devotion from your lips.

"That's it, my love. That's it. Do you want to cum?"

"Please, my Prince. Please make me cum." You were whining now, but you couldn't say you cared very much. And neither did Oberyn. In fact, it only made him crave you more.

"Come straddle me. I want to feel you cum on my cock. I want to feel your pussy again." Oberyn's voice was hot and breathy, and he brought you with him as he laid back, helping you align your pussy with his throbbing length.

When you sunk back down on to his cock, you both moaned in unison, the dull edge of his nails digging into the supple skin of your thighs. He held you glued to him, stuck in his grasp- but you weren't complaining.

You placed your hands on his chest, guiding your movements, allowing yourself to memorize the gleam in his eye. The way his lips parted, the way his brow creased- with each movement you made, Oberyn only became more beautiful.

Oh, he was so beautiful. Wasn't he? With sun kissed skin and soil rich eyes, there wasn't a time he had ever looked at you and you hadn't felt that tugging at your stomach, that creeping feeling of love waving her ardent arms, screaming out that she knew your secret. Your deep, dark, terrible secret: You were in love with Oberyn.

"Oberyn." You cooed breathlessly, moans rumbling through your chest as you rocked yourself on his dick, feeling his thick length twitch at the seductive mention of his name.

"Yes, little dove?" He rolled your clit between his forefinger and thumb, a shit-eating smirk crossing his plush lips. You stared at him, mouth hanging open wordlessly, as he brought you closer to the brink of orgasm. "What is it?" Oberyn's words were laced with a hint of ego.

He knew what he was doing to you. He knew how to make you cry out.

You had completely forgotten where you were and the fact that you were on top of him, but in one swift movement your back was pressed into the tub, and Oberyn was sinking in to you once more, now on top of you and calling the shots.

You looked down at where your bodies met, your throbbing clit being rubbed beneath his middle finger as your pussy hugged his dick, each thrust filling you with more and more pleasure, each movement only making you want him more and more.

You could barely warn him before your orgasm hit you like a strike of lightning, and Oberyn's groans of pleasure as you tightened around him filled your chest with a certain kind of pride you had not known before meeting him.

Your nails dragged down his wet back, his hips jutting in to yours as he chased his own climax. Oberyn looked down at you, a smile twitching on his mouth.

"You always look so beautiful like this. Beneath me. All spread out and open for me."

"For you." You whispered back, a smile spreading across your face.

A deep, guttural groan escaped him at the sound of your sweet voice, and before you could say anything else, Oberyn was emptying his load deep within you, teeth barring down upon the blade of your shoulder.

You two lay there for a moment, letting relief blanket over your bodies.

Later that night, when Oberyn was cradling you in his arms, fast asleep beneath the sheets, you were still wide awake, staring up at the richly adorned and painted ceiling.

How you ended up here was beyond you. It had all happened so quickly, and fate had reared her head rather suddenly.

As you looked at Oberyn, nestled snuggly in his golden robes, you thought to yourself: maybe yellow isn’t so bad.

#oberyn martell #prince oberyn #oberyn x reader #oberyn x you #prince oberyn x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #studioghibelli #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal smut #prince oberyn smut #oberyn smut #game of thrones #got

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mooncknight · 1 year

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To the dearest, José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal. 🫠❤️

Now playing: Wild Child by The Black Keys.

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

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𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 — 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

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

pairing: Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: 3k

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

➛ oberyn masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

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

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

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

Now it was empty.

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

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

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

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

“It’s underwhelming, is it not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oberyn-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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chromiumagellanic06 · 29 days

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The Silver Knight: Warrior, Princess, Wife

Daemon Targaryen x Female [Targaryen] OC

"Do they call you Silver Knight for the hair?" but when she shook her head, Daemon added, "I do not pry, Naera. I simply wish—"

"To know me," she finished his words this while, frowning, and added, "but I do not wish the same."

In which, Princess Naera Targaryen, after returning from her time in Essos, is forced to grapple with her arranged marriage to her uncle, and strange visions encircling a Breaker of Chains, some 200 years in the future.

DISCLAIMER: This fic includes incest/targcest, uncle-niece incest, smut, domestic abuse, brutality, violence, blood, some breeding kink, etc.

All image credits go to their respective owners. All rights for the published content for the characters goes to GRRM and company. (Naera Targaryen, the OC is a fan-creation.)

Chapter 01: A Summons

Chapter 02: Civility

Chapter 03: Melisandre

Chapter 04: Kepus

Chapter 05: Khaleesi

Chapter 06: Wisestone

Chapter 07: Daemon

Chapter 08: Three Answers

Chapter 09: A List

Chapter 10: A Wedding

Chapter 11: A Feast

Chapter 12: Perfection

Chapter 13: Brilliant

Chapter 14: Solar

Chapter 15: Dreamer

Chapter 16: From my blood

Chapter 17: Lord of Light

Chapter 18: A Lack of Understanding

Chapter 19: Second Sons

Chapter 20: Letters

Chapter 21: Rhaenyra

Chapter 22: Green

Chapter 23: Visenya

Chapter 24: Confession

Chapter 25: Love

Chapter 26: Returns

Chapter 27: Dragon

Chapter 28: Loss

Chapter 29: Complete

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moonlight-prose · 8 months

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BREATH OF LIFE

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

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

word count: 3k+

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well?” you demanded, keeping your distance.

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

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

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

“What? My dislike?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oberyn—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your emotion blinds you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mine to fuck.”

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

“Mine to keep.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

#oberyn martell x f!reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x y/n #oberyn martell #oberyn martell smut #haunted hoedown #my writing

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themotherofblood · 1 year

Note

Dear author, you don't know how happy I am to see that your ad requests are open. That said can I get an extremely romantic, overwhelming, passionate and rough smut with Daemon x Martell fem reader inspired by the song "Ang laga de", please?

you have no fucking idea how happy this ask made me, like kicking my legs and smiling like a lunatic happy. I have envisioned this very smut scene at least a hundred times. It is a little dark, both Daemon and Y/N are kinda crazy in this. Madly in love, literally

masterlist

smut, talks of murder, blood, loss of virginity, oral (f), more blood, fingering and evil daemon being a softie.

Daemon Targaryen x fem!Martell Reader

“I refuse to be your mistress!”

That is the last thing you had said to your beloved dragon prince.

The Dornish were said to be a shameless lot regardless, and here you fell for a married man.

The Rhoynish gods were laughing at your stupidity, there wasn’t even a lure placed for you to catch. You simply fell for him, hard.

What had been a month long endeavour to see your younger sister wed a distant Targaryen cousin. Turned to your own nightmare. You had never craved for something as much as you had Daemon Targaryen. His flirtatious deeds, bringing your flowers and trinkets had bouncing like a little girl. It was frustrating, you had tried courting before and yet it felt flat, you truly believed that men simply were not capable of pleasing you. Until he came along, him and that stupid red dragon that made you want Daemon even more

He became the thing you wanted to cry to the gods about, the sweets yours parents wouldn’t let you have or that fine silk dress that was far too big for you to wear. His niece Rhaenyra, also egged this fire further and not once had either of them mentioned that he was married! It was painful, really fucking painful, learning that his loyalty was sworn to another.

You’d spent nights unable to sleep on foreign beds, awake in the royal gardens of the Red Keep, where the prince kept you company till the sun graced the horizon and you had succumbed to slumber with your head in his lap. There was serenity, shared comfort that dwelled between the two of you. You had heard stories, counted first hand of the nights he’d spend in brothels with his whores. You didn’t care, you wanted him.

“I refuse to be your mistress.”

It was a lie, you would happily become his salacious secret should he have asked a second time. There was no dignity, no obligations or customs, to you there was just him and the one truth that boiled your blood hot. You had already given him a piece of you heart as you boarded the ship to return home. You wanted him to ask again, to whisk you away on his dragon and yet he allowed you the curtesy to return home with your honour intact.

“If there is anything the crown can provide for Dorne, do not hesitate.” Viserys coughed his words out as he presented his farewells to you in a crowded court

“Should I ask, you wouldn’t be able to provide it your grace.” You wandered, keeping your head low in respect for the man and your wants

“What is it that a king cannot provide,” Otto Hightower questioned, taking offence to your wording.

“Daemon Targaryen.” You stated, gasps echoed across the throne room. You had committed a crime, stained your honour for good. You didn’t care nor did you give Daemon a last look before boarding your ship.

Honour- what was it compared to feel of being in his arms? What was devotion if not sound of his voice relaying Valyrian poetry? What was love, if not your heart that drowned in his blood?

What was love- if not the letter of his wife’s untimely injury?

Rhea Royce, bedridden of her paralysis, remained frozen and useless to her husband.

There was much that Daemon Targaryen was capable of, much that you were capable of. The sheer fire that burned your passions would have soaked your own hands in Rhae Royce’s blood.

She didn’t love him.

You did.

Then came your brother, his stupid alliance and vengeance against the Targaryen’s was costing you your sanity, you had pleaded with him for weeks and then you succumbed to the insanity that perhaps there was venom in your heart for whoever kept you from your dragon prince.

It festered for days, the mirrors in your room painted with clay. Refusing to look at yourself until he laid eyes upon you as his wife.

You had sat at supper with your brother, his disappointment was clear. You wanted to lay with the enemy, if loving Daemon was treachery then you would happily lay your hands forwards retribution. There should have been sorrow, a searing burn of guilt- he was your family, your blood. You shared a cradle and a mother; nothing more. Your sweet brother, for now was thorn digging into your palm as you admired the flourishing bud of devotion. He had to be plucked out.

The forbidden subject was brought up once more, there wasn’t a request in sight but a demand from his brazen sister.

“Let me be his, let him have me.” A prayer, Qoren grew irate over your insolent behaviour.

He loved you dearly, his sweet sister who was blinded by the rage of love. He wouldn't allow it, claiming to chain you to your chamber if you made an attempt to contact him. You said nothing as you nibbled on your food, spatters of blood dripped onto your pie. You could feel your throat constricting and yet it was nothing compared to the agony you had been in without Daemon.

Qoren coughed profusely, blood dripping from his nose as his eyes widened at your betrayal. In truth he had betrayed you first, choosing to keep you away from the one thing you had ever truly wanted. You could taste the copper on your lips, corners of your eyes welling with tears as you ripped the small pendant from your neck; even with the antidote to the poison in your system. The despair never stopped.

An unpleasant event truly, yet what was anyone to do, Qoren had no heirs and your blood-bled mustard. In the true picture of your house’s words, you remained unbent; raging on in sheer will for one man.

Even tainted in blood, you wore white for him; to remain pure, awaiting him to paint you in the colours of his house

He will return for me, for my love

There was no assurance that he would fly to you, no evidence that Rhae Royce’s accident wasn’t a mere coincidence; yet your arrogance had you rubbing rose oil onto your skin.

My dragon would return to me, you were sure of it.

For days the men sworn to the Martells had sighted the skies day and night, all in hopes of seeing a red dragon looming over the palace. The very ladies that had dressed you since you were a child urged for you to see reason, men often toyed with naive noble ladies for their amusement. He hadn't toyed with you, you were his cherished doll, one he stole because he simply could.

“Princess,” A young squire heaved, a folded parchment in between his fingers. Sealed with a three-headed dragon.

Your wish was my command princess.

Even without a name, the curls on his lettering were indicative enough an answer for you.

He had indeed harmed Rhea Royce for you, just as you had killed your brother Qoren for him. In your heart, you knew he would find you soon; just as your orders for exotic flowers and wines were distributed to merchants, people in your household began to whisper of your delusions.

Then the black skies graced your hopes, almost taunting all those who questioned your faith in him. The moon, full as is lit the ocean in its milky glow, from those very black skies came your faith. Loud whistles of a dragon echoed through Old Palace. Yet another young squire mumbled out in laboured breaths.

You smiled to yourself as your ladies sat in silent shock, their efforts in dressing you in white and gold would bear fruit tonight. Their feet sprung to action, the jangles from their anklets were muffled in your ears, and you just smiled to yourself. You hiked you skirts up as you skipped down the corridor, the jangles on your gold anklets seemed to have been cursing everybody who questioned you.

The doors to the Old Palace opened as Daemon Targaryen rode in on horseback, and along with him came a small entourage. He sat tall atop his horse, finally a Targaryen worthy of conquering Dorne. You were sure your ancestors were screaming bloody murder, shunning you and wishing you ill will, and yet as you stood at the enterance of the Old Palace, your father’s name meant nothing infront of the man you loved.

“In a bustling court you asked for me, may all see; I have arrived.” Daemon proclaimed as he stood with his arms out. You feet hurried down the steps, hoping to grace him with an eternal embrace and yet he raised his hand to stop you dead in your tracks

“I applaud you, for a devotion even I was unknown to. You stripped yourself bare of your honour and dignity for a relationship you had no right over.” He retorted, you couldn’t understand was her perturbed? Is that what he was here for, to lecture you?

“What reasoning do you have for this madness?”

“Love.” You stated, even the word in itself felt lacking for the true tempest that swirled in your environs. It had to be bigger, all consuming.

“The one revolts against the mightiest of dragons, that love,” You walked towards him “The one that fearlessly professes her devotion at court, that love.”

“When she sees her beloved and forgets her family, that love.” You eyes glossed over, consuming your skin in wild fire, begging him to claim you already

His hands harshly grasped your forearms, shaking sense into your as he spoke.

“The Faith and my brother’s court will never see you as one of theirs,” He warned.

“I accept.” You smiled.

“Marrying me would have you walking on fire!” He reasoned, hoping you would back away; a flower far to delicate for him to touch. He would give his life for you to not wither.

“I accept.” You nodded.

“I have a wife, Rhea.” He grimaced at the thought of his bronze bitch “I shall never be able to provide you the title of my first wife.” His hand trailed up to hold your cheek, stroking away the moisture that had looked below your eyes.

“Taking my name as yours will bring nothing but notoriety.” He kissed you cheek.

“I accept.”

“Then let it be known, the world would remember us as one,” He moved backwards gesturing towards the priest in his entourage.

“The Watergardens,” You stated, gesturing your servants to lead the priest to the location.

Daemon had allowed you moments alone, your household torn over what was happening. While many sighed in relief, perhaps you would finally eat; let life make your skin glow yet again. The storm gave away and your lamp was still burning bright. He presented you with a head piece made of khaki cloth, amber and rubies with stray pieces of shells. You handmaidens were quick with it, pinning it onto your hair as Daemon made his arrangements. Caraxes looked over the Watergardens, whistling just as ecstatically as his rider as he perched himself on the beach mount.

The universe seemed to have been in agreement of your emotions, the wind on the beach picked up; cooling your overwhelmed and hot skin. The skies were clear, twinkling in stars and the full moon as the complimented the low tided waves crashing ashore. Your own servants had been quick, decorating the gardens with yellow and red candles and exotic Bravosi flower arrangements placed on vases. Daemon awaited you by the shore line.

Your hands held a dhanuchi, clay burners that held sizzling coal pieces accompanied with sandalwood. You hiked your skirts up, walking towards Daemon, counting your steps as your bare feet hit the sand, you were trying your hardest to breathe; he stood their awaiting you looking as galant as the day he received you at the Blackwater ports, it was from that day you knew your fate would be painted black in his name.

Daemon turned, toying with a black obsidian dagger as his eyes softened the second he saw you. He held his hand out for you take as you stopped next to him, placing the dhanuchi at the alter.

“This will hurt,” He whispered, gesturing to the dragon glass daggers. You shook your head, no pain would compare to the three moons you had spent without him. He lifted the edge against your bottom lip, drawing blood as he gently slashed a cut, he guided your hands to do the same. The taste of copper filled your mouth, a stinging sensation ran through your lips; one you knew would only soothe once you felt his lips on yours.

Blood of two, joined as one

You cut a gash on your palm, wincing as blood trickled to the surface; Daemon did the same with his before grasping your bloodied palm within his. The priest wrapped a silk across your palms, your lover’s lilac eyes held concern for your pains and yet wild adoration. You were to be his. Blood began to trickle into the cup of wine placed under you as the priest continued.

Ghostly flame and a song of shadows

Daemon marked your forehead with his blood, you followed his lead as the priest instructed the symbol you drew, he then offered you the cup of wine laced with your blood. You eyes never once left Daemon’s as you sipped on the strong wine before giving him the cup to do the same.

Two hearts as embers, forged in the fourteen fires

His hands came to rest at your cheek, both growing restless of the vows as he wiped the dripping blood from your lips.

A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness.

You pulled yourself closer to him, one might say you were dazed from the blood loss, in truth it was Daemon’s lilac eyes, how his hands caressed your skin. The wanting fires that engulfed the alter seeming leave everything in ashes but the two of you.

The vows spoken through time, of light and darkness.

He whispered along with the priest.

There was no shame in the way your lips crashed against one another, you tasted his blood on your tongue and yet his hands scorched your skin, almost consuming your body whole as his hands wandered everywhere as his lips claimed you. A stray tear fell from your eyes as your held onto his face, letting his tongue explore yours. You couldn’t breathe from the passion of it all, not that you cared; you life was now his to do with as he pleased.

You rested on Daemon’s lap as he lounged on your window bed, working a healers poultice on the cut of his palm, still lingering in the after effects of wedding. His hands gently returned the favour as he wrapped yours in gauze, you prayed that it would scar; it was a testament for your devotion.

“There- all fixed sweet wife.” Daemon whispered, nudging his nose against your cheek. Heat immediately rose to you cheek as you looked away, you were his wife.

You shuffled off of him, you walked to the steaming dhanuchi that you had carried back to your bed chambers, you bed chambers smelled sweet from it aroma. You had lit in hopes of being blessed by the fertitly goddess, that your marriage remaind pure and secure for eternity. You pushed you skirts always as you climbed onto your bed, letting the steam grace and bless your bed with your unconditional wish.

You dropped the burner on the floor after, letting it submerge the room in its sweet smoke. You awaited your husband as he rid himself of his tunic, you shuffled closer as you sat on your knees. Admiring his toned body and taking account for every battle scar on his skin that you would spend the rest of your life healing with your love.

“Will- will you bed me now, husband?” You whispered, your lips dangerously closer to his, begging for another kiss.

“Oh, I plan to do more than just bedding you.” His lips moulded against yours once more as his hands tugged on the ties of your blouse.

“I conquer Dorne tonight,” He teased, peppering kisses to your temple down to you cheek. He pushed you back on the bed, almost immediately pouncing on top.

He grasped your wrists with one hand, pushing them above your head as he laid siege upon your neck. Laying warm- wet kisses and bruising nips at your neck; his hair tickling at your bare skin as your squirmed underneath him. There was no reasoning to the gentle throb that began pulsing at your core- you rubbed your thigh closer to make it halt. He pushed aside your unlaced blouse, your chest heaved as he suckled on your breast, pulling and licking the hardening pebble in his mouth.

You back arched if the bed, pushing your chest into his mouth, small open mouthed gasps left your mouth as his fingers danced past your navel; yanking on the fastening strings of skirts. His hands pushing your skirts and small clothes down at once, unwrapping you like present as your laid in his ordered positioning.

You succumbed to your exposure, you moved your head in shame, opting to look out at the glaring moon as it witnessed your de-flowerinng. Daemon took offence to your actions, using his fingers to guide your chin towards him as he groaned in disapproval.

“Three moons apart and you dare look away from me?” Daemon cocked his brow at you, freeing your hands as he ventured lower on your body.

“I- forgive me, my prince.” You whispered, your lungs refraining you from speaking any louder

“Husband,” He corrected as he pushed you legs apart.

“Husband.” You mewled in shame as his fingers stroked your folds that looked by the minute. His lips latched onto your inner left thigh, sucking and nipping at the skin.

All the while his eyes remained devious yet absurdly comforting, the two fingers that drew circles on your thighs or a small groans he left against your skin, indicative of how much he was truly enjoying himself. Just for his own satisfaction he marked your thighs at several spots, leaving darkening marks for you to reminisce over in the coming fortnight.

You felt intoxicated, revelling in the way his tongue wet your outer folds before indulging in the saccharine delight that was your cunt, a shameless moan echoed through your bed chambers as you felt his tongue flicking at a much sensitive spot. He moaned against your mound the second your taste hit his tongue.

His palm, large enough to lay flat over your soft belly to hold you flush a against the bed as he took his liberties, lapping at your like his last meal had been consumed days before. His eyes bore into yours, his own demeanour turning to command, strumming the pleasures of your body to his own rhythm.

“Such a sweet delight,” He complimented, mostly to distract you from his finger easing into your tightness. You immediately clenched down on the intrusion. “This shall ease the discomfort.” He elaborated before spitting onto your folds

Your head fell backwards in shame, focusing on the comforting caresses in your torso as Daemon plunged his finger in knuckle deep. You couldn't take the prolonging tasks no longer. You whined, pawing at Daemon’s trousers.

“Please, please have me already.” You begged, you wanted to feel him within you. You could careless of the pain or discomfort, you just wanted to be one

“Take them off,” He instructed, your hands immediately worked on unbuttoning his pants, before digging your fingers into her rear to pull them down. His cock- that thing hung pliant between his legs. Part of you looked up at him curiously, and the other half wondered how your envious would engulf such a monstrosity. Your eyes silently asked for permission, to which Daemon simply stroked your hair as your wrapped your hand around the warm appendage. You were unsure of what to do.

“Stroke it, gently.” He guided you as you followed, feeling his cock twitch in your hands as you moved your hands back and forth. His tip soon glistened in moisture leaking from within. All Daemon could think of were your sweet lips wrapped around his cock and yet there was an eternity to teach you of the pleasures of the flesh. “Good girl,” He cooed.

He urged you to lay back against the pillows, working his length to harden to its full potential. He hesitated, having taken many maiden heads before, he needed this to be delicate as he tore through yours. He circled his tip at your sensitive rose bud before pushing at your entrance. You gasped out loud, letting you arms wrap around his shoulders as he inched forwards.

The stretch of his efforts shot a stinging sche through your pelvis, and he halted. Kissing your cheek and cooing at you in an attempt to alleviate even a fraction of the discomfort you were in. He advanced all the way in, hoping to let your ride out the waves of pain; you cried out louder and yet there was a little more left to go

“Look at me, just me. I shall make it better.” He groaned, hoping to suppress his own pleasures that coursed through his body, your tightness strangling his cock with threats of nearly milking him dry before anything had even begun. He felt selfish for feeling bliss as you silently wept underneath him, he caressed your cheek, the thing he held onto as his lips kissed your face. Peppering kisses to your forehead and your lips, over and over again as he inched forward

“Dae-” You shrieked as he finally bottomed out within you, the pressure of the stretch making your eyes well in more tears. You pulled yourself closer to him, trying to muffle your weeps on the crook of his neck. His arm reaches under you to support your neck. His deeper voice whispered encouragements as he awaited you to adjust to the pain.

“Look at how well you take me,” He whispered in between kisses that he pressed in your temples “Made just for me, aren't you? My sweet little wife.”

“Just for you,” You sniffled, letting yourself rest back against the pillows.

There was a humiliating familiarity in the way your aches encouraged your actions, you shuffled underneath him. Hoping to get him to move and yet he solely focused on doting on your body.

“Husband-” You whimpered, making his eyes shoot to you as they were focused on where the two of you were connected just moments before. He hummed in acknowledgement

“Can you- um please.” You stuttered, almost frustrated at yourself for losing your wording this easy.

“You have to tell me sweet wife, show me what you need.” He asked, urging his will into your answer.

“Please move- I need you to move.” You requested, he smiled before angling his hips backwards; hissing wantonly in the process and you mewled under him. There was pain within the first few thrusts and yet the deranged tendencies of your blood milked pleasure from the pain that subsided to a subtle pressure in your belly.

Daemon lost his composure, uttering vulgarities in your ear; the most obscene of sentences paired with the sweets of names he had picked for you.

“Perfect little hole, taking me so well,” He’d compliment one minute.

“Should have fucked this cunt the first day I laid eyes on you sweet girl,” The next he’d complain of the things he’d regretted.

He held your jaw, a feral smirk adoring his lips as he took your apart, your bangles clicking as your body bounced with his determined thrusts.

“Daemon!” You shrieked, such hurtful pleasure causing you to bed for such sinful things

“Just like that, scream your husband’s name.” He grunted, “Let all of Dorne know who owns this pretty body. Go on tell me.”

“You do, you do.” Cries poured from your lips as you held onto his forearms. “My Daemon,” You moaned as pulled yourself up to kiss his lips.

“Yes, yes sweet girl. All yours.” His deviant smile widened. Your cunt began to flutter around him, such flattery could mean just one thing as Daemon pushed his pelvis against yours, his thrusts grinding at your nub.

“That’s it, just lay there and take my seed,” He growled, his playing again harshly grasping your jaw to make you look at him.

“Dae- Daemon!” The ever impending storm began to paw at your insides,

Not long now- “I want it, I want babes and so much more. Please, please.” You begged to hope that itch would finally give way, and so it did. With no warning and only a scream of your husband’s name, your body erupted in ecstasy.

Daemon groaned out loud, muttering praises of your name, good girl, his sweet girl. Yes, you were. All for him as you loomed on a cloud perched high above the ground, you only registered Daemon’s thrusts faltering and warm filling your core, and then you felt Daemon’s caresses on your skin as you coaxed your heaving body to stability.

“Still with me?” He whispered against your hair and all you could muster was a lazy nod against his chest. You hissed feeling his cock leave your opening, he pushed you through it all. Letting his body weight do the work for you as he pulled himself to sit up along with you.

You finally opened your eyes, blinking away stray tears as he wiped at the trails of moisture on your cheeks. He bundled your exhausted body against his as he lifted you off your bed, walking you along to your chaise before wrapping a spare blanket against both your bodies, almost rocking your vulnerable body to a humming under his breath.

Maids poured into the clear martial bed, they all frowned at the image of their beloved Lady Martell curled against a dragon without a care as you nuzzled against him. Daemon snapped his fingers at them as they began to carry the bloodied sheets away, gesturing to the corner of the room for them to leave it behind. He planned to gift it to his brother’s council, as a warning.

There was nothing anybody could refuse Daemon Targaryen from- that and that he had a new wife. A wife of his choice, a wife he intended on loving until his death bed.

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biggestsimponhere · 1 year

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

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal please marry me omfg i need him so bad #i want pedro pascal so bad oml #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff #the last of us #oberyn martell #din djarin #the mandalorian #javier peña

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 2 months

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Main Masterlist | TheyWhoWriteAndKnowThings

Call of Duty/Taskforce 141 [AO3]

Other Characters/Fandoms:

Miguel O'Hara [AO3]

Reacher (Alan Ritchson) [AO3]

Pedro Pascal Characters

Collections/Challenges:

Murder Daddy Kinktober 2023 - 28~ works of mostly smut. Oscar Isaac, Pedro Pascal, and others.

Peg That Middle Aged Man Campaign 2024 - Nearly 20 works from different authors pegging PPCU characters.

Fic Rec Friday! - Collections of fics recommended to me, and some cheeky recs of my own!

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yeollie-plz · 10 months

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The Lovers

Knight! Pedro Pascal x Princess! Reader

Part 2

Synopsis: You always knew you would be queen one day, but you didn’t think the title came with an arranged marriage. Sir Pascal, offers you a way out.

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: Y/N insert, mentions of blood and war, fantasy settings, contract marriage, age gap, fake marriage

Gif credits to owners!

The kingdom of Adéla was a small but strong one. It had a long running monarchy and a prospering army. Your family had been ruling for over five generations and soon it would be your turn.

The earliest memory you had was one of your father sitting you down on his thrown and telling you of the great things you could do for your country. His speech had made you feel empowered, you had never forgotten that moment.

Although you were a princess, your life wasn't all ballgowns and parties. It was also duty and study. When you were not in the library reading any book that was shoved towards you, you were sat beside your father learning the ins-and-outs of politics. The next moment you were learning to ride or keeping the peace in town. It seemed like there was never a moment to relax. You were stuffed into corsets and powdered with makeup. You were rushed to taste all the new offerings of the kitchen. You were...exhausted.

And when you were finally in the solitude of your room, you would think but to your earliest memory. It would make you sigh, eyes shutting, as you attempted to rub the strain out of your worried brow. You knew you had to be the queen everyone needed. You knew you had to follow your duty and keep the strength of your kingdom alive.

Your twenty-fifth birthday was arriving rapidly. Although you wouldn't become queen until your father passed (long live the king), this was the year you were to take on more responsibilities and start making decisions on your own. It was tradition. You were prepared, yet admittedly nervous.

You usually wouldn't make a fuss about your birthday but your mother insisted on it.

"This year is special." She would say. You nodded in agreeance, knowing you would never be able to get her to back down.

Preparations for your birthday party caused everyone to bustle around the palace more than usual. Your father, knowing you didn't really care, set you up in the library with a few study materials and left with a wink to deal with your stressed mother.

You tried to focus but it became difficult with all the noise from outside the large oak doors. With a sigh, you gathered all of your materials into your bag, and made your way outside to the garden. There was still some people out here but if you just went past the trees, you should be able to find some quiet.

Finally finding a comfy spot you placed your bag on the leaf covered ground. Sliding your jacket off your shoulders, you laid it out under a tree and sat down. You decided to take a breath and look up at the towering trees before getting enveloped into your books. Shutting your eyes as a gust of wind flowed over you.

Just for them to snap open at the sound of a blade slicing through the air and sticking to the tree inches from your head. You looked up at the assailant with a mixture of fury and confusion evident in your face. You couldn't see their face with the sun shining behind them.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" A man's voice asked.

"Me? I should be asking you that. Especially after almost slicing my head off." Grabbing the blade of the sword you pulled it out of the tree and away from your face. You ignored the pain from the cut you had inflicted onto yourself and stood to meet the man.

His face came into view as his brows furrowed looking down at the hand you had used to touch the blade. He was of good height and build with dark curly hair. A knight's badge glistened from his casual jacket.

"Why is an off duty knight carrying a sword?"

He ignored your question instead asking about your hand.

You rolled you eyes, "It's fine. Answer my question."

"I was on my way to bring it to the blacksmiths when I saw you."

"So you decided to use it?" You laughed out of shock. He nodded solemnly, still staring at your hand.

"I told you its fine. So, you thought I was trespassing into the palace?" Another nod.

"And what if I told you I lived here?" He finally looked up at your face.

"You live h-" He's cut off by someone calling your name. You both look towards the voice a maid coming into view.

"Ah, Princess Y/N, there you are. Your mother's been asking for you." She spoke up, glancing over at the man who was still staring at you.

"Princess?" The realization of his mistake flashing behind his eyes.

You laughed again, this time from amusement. "Yes, princess, sir..?"

"Pascal." He responded.

"Well Sir Pascal, it was very nice to-" your eyes glanced down to his sword "-meet you." Bowing your head slightly, you followed the maid back into the palace. Glancing back to still see him standing there in shock. What a strange man.

---- One Week Later, The Day Of The Party ----

Your wound was healing nicely, despite your mother had given you a lecture about going into the woods and hurting yourself. You hadn't returned to the woods and you hadn't seen Sir Pascal since that day.

Today was your birthday and the day of the party. Your mother had told you to stay in your room until tonight and not greet any guests. You weren't really sure why, but you agreed to her conditions anyway.

Your maids had been in and out of your room, getting you ready all day long. All of them convinced you had to look even prettier and more put together than usual. You just let them push you around and do anything they desired, knowing it was better to just sit still. A knock sounded at your door about an hour before your big entrance. Your maids were almost done with their preparations when your father walked into the room. Everyone stood and bowed in greeting, he smiled back.

"Ladies, can you leave us alone for a minute. I would like a word with the birthday girl." His smile now reached his eyes as you looked at you. You maids hurried out, leaving just you two.

"You look lovely, my dear." He father complimented, grabbing your hand in his. He turned it over in his hand and traced your veins.

"You know when your mother went into labor, I was so nervous. I knew one day I would have to have heirs, but when it was finally happening, I was besides myself. I didn't know how to be a father, let alone a good one. But the minute you arrived and the doctors had told me it was a girl, I felt like everything made sense. When I held you in my arms for the first time, I knew you would be a great leader. And as you grew it became more and more apparent everyday." He paused, as tears welled up in his eyes, yours mirroring his.

"Father..." You whispered.

He laughed and stood up straighter, dropping your hand. Breathing deeply to hold back his tears.

"Anyways, have a wonderful party my dear, I will see you down there." He moved towards the door and grabbed the knob. Turning it and opening it just a crack before turning back towards you.

"I'm sorry." He said before rushing out. Leaving you confused about what he was apologizing for.

Your maids finished getting you ready, after crying they had to touch up a bit of your makeup too. It was now time for you to join the rest of the guests down in the ballroom.

As you made your grand entrance down the large staircase, you scanned the crowd for any familiar faces. Your eyes locked onto Sir Pascal's, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked you up and down, you felt a blush rise to your cheeks before you forced yourself to look away.

The party was going smoothly, you were greeting dignitaries, eating, drinking, and dancing. Your mother had done an amazing job with the decorations, it was gorgeous. You kept meeting eyes with Sir Pascal but he never made his way over to talk to you.

You sighed finally deciding you would talk to him first. Just as you began to make your move towards him, your father called everyone's attention.

"I feel it's only right if the father of the birthday girl makes a speech." He laughed, causing everyone in the room to join in. "Y/N, is my only child and I have always held her close to my heart. One day she will be your Queen, a very important position, that she is more than prepared for." He smiled towards you. Tearing his eyes from you he looked over at your mother who nodded.

"But the Queen and I felt she should never have to rule alone." Your brows furrowed in confusion as two men made their way next to your parents. One was short, middle aged, with red hair. The other young, tall, and blonde. You weren't sure if you had met them before.

"Your new husband." A voice whispered behind you, you turned your head to see Sir Pascal standing there.

"My what?" You whispered back, sure you had heard him incorrectly.

"Your betrothed, the blonde." He nodded his head towards the younger man.

You snapped your head back towards your father who was trying to read your face.

"We have decided to agree to a marriage between our two nations. The second son of Corenth, Prince Xavier to marry our Princess Y/N."

You couldn't hold back the shock from your face, as your jaw dropped open. You looked to the blonde, who you now knew to be Prince Xavier, he looked solemn. He must not like the idea either. Your eyes shifted to your father, he met them, a look of apology flooding his features.

Suddenly a heat rushed through you, your heart pounding inside your chest, as an applause erupted at the announcement. You were now acutely aware of the amount of bodies around you and the boning of your corset crushing your lungs, no longer able to breathe. You grasped at the lace of your dress trying to find some sort of relief but it was of no use.

Someone congratulated you from your left and it snapped you out of your stupor. You glanced quickly at the large glass doors that led out to the gardens. Without thinking, you grabbed the bottom of your dress so you wouldn’t trip and ran straight out the doors.

You kept running until you made it to a gazebo, where you feel to your knees and attempted to catch your breath. The night air had a slight chill to it, shocking your system into working again. As your breathing became more steady, you started to really process what you had just learnt. Suddenly a voice sounded behind you.

“So, looks like that wasn’t only an announcement to the kingdom, but you as well.” Out of anger you met the face that went with the voice. Sir Pascal was leaning against the banister of the gazebo. Your eyes bore into him.

“And you’re not happy about it either.” He deduced, more to himself than to you. A scoff was all you could muster.

He lifted himself back to an upright position and walked towards you. He bent down to a squat next to you and handed a glass to you. You eyed it suspiciously.

“Water.” He said with slight amusement. “Not like I’d poison you or anything.”

“You almost chopped my head off the first time we met.”

This time he did let of a laugh, “You’re right, but if I knew who you were I wouldn’t have done it.”

“So if I wasn’t the princess, you would’ve just done it, no hesitation.” You took a sip from the cup.

“No, if you weren’t so beautiful, I would’ve done it, no hesitation.” You choked at his response, quickly you covered it by clearing your throat.

“Sorry, I’m betrothed.” You said with an eye roll.

“But you don’t want to be.”

“No, I do not.” You looked down into the cup.

“What do you want?” He moved from his squatting position, fully onto the floor next to you. He rested his head on his hand and leaned in a little closer. You could almost feel his breath on your neck.

“I’m really not sure. My whole life I’ve been trained to rule. I always knew I was stuck in this box of being princess and later I’d be even more stuck as queen. But I never thought my choice of love would be taken away.”

He hummed in response. A silence washed over the two of you.

“Marry me.” He spoke up suddenly after a minute or two of the silence.

“What?” Now it was your turn to be amused.

“Marry me.” He repeated, it was a statement not a question.

“And how would that solve my problem?”

“We can say we got married in secret, I have a few friends who would be witnesses. Plus that maid saw us together the other day.” He pondered for a second.

“So your solution to me getting out of a loveless marriage is to enter a fake loveless marriage?” Your eyebrows raised in a mix between confusion and curiosity.

“Yes. We say we got married in secret and consummated it, I’m sure the King of Corenth, won’t want a daughter-in-law that’s been deflowered.” He said the last word like it was a curse. “He’s old fashioned. He’ll want the perfect, obedient wife for his son.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Well I’m actually from Corenth, my mother used to work in the palace. She told me many stories.”

You nodded.

“What about my parents reactions?” You had forgotten about them entirely.

“I’m a pretty high ranking, officer in Corenth, I’m sure they can still work out a deal with them.”

There’s a silence again as you contemplate his plan.

“So?” He spoke up.

“You’re not tricking me right?” You were suddenly aware of the distance between you. You were also now aware of the things he was implying.

“I would never trick you.”

You scoffed.

“So?” The amusement was back.

“Fine, I’ll marry you.”

#pedro pascal #fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #princess!reader #knight!pedro pascal #knight x princess #the last of us #game of thrones #oberyn martell #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal scenario #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal angst

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maggotzombie · 2 years

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Hello Love, May I Please Request A Smut Where Pedro Pascal Is Injured From The Gym And Reader Doesn't Wanna Have Sex With Him Because She's Afraid To Hurt Him But He Convinces Her He's Okay Please?

gentle touches ; pedro pascal

PAIRING — Pedro Pascal x Reader (fem) SUMMARY — Pedro has overdone his workout and is feeling the results on his body. You're trying to give him space but he has other plans. WORDS — 3,3k TW — 18+ MDNI!, established relationship, mention of minor injury, very explicit smut (unprotected sex, oral sex, vaginal intercourse, very slight spanking, creampie), some language (you know, the dirty talking kind). A/N — This was a challenge. I was not planning for this to be my first Pedro fic (I'm actually in the middle of writing what I thought it'd be lol) but my mind quickly started putting this together once I got this request but, at the same time, I everything I wrote didn't sound right. So it took a little while hehe Hope you like it, anon! 😘

— 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

HE’S TRYING TO HIDE IT since he came back from the gym a couple of days ago and you’re pretending to not have noticed it. But can he really hide anything from your exceptionally vigilant eyes?

Pedro never was good at keeping things from you either. He usually spoils his own surprises because he’s way too excited about them so he ends up admitting what he’s been planning with a huge smile on his face. And, to be honest, you love how fast he talks when he’s telling you everything.

But, yeah, despite his trainer’s warnings, Pedro has overdone it in the gym and is feeling every bit of the consequences on his body. It doesn’t help that he’s not that young anymore and he’s also stubborn as fuck, even going as far as assuring you that everything’s fine when you ask him.

Either way, you’re giving him space to heal, not that he wants any. You’ve been positively ignoring the looks he has been giving you since you were doing a yoga routine in the living room yesterday.

You look up from the book you’re reading when Pedro walks into the room. His lips turn into a smile as soon as he sees you lying on the couch and he quickly makes himself comfortable on top of you, resting his head on your chest.

You chuckle, your fingers immediately burying in those amazingly soft chocolate locks of his. “What’s up, baby?” You ask opening your legs wider to accommodate his body.

“I’m bored,” His voice is a little muffled as he buries his face in your chest.

“Wanna go for a walk?” You suggest, looking down at the crown of his head.

“No, I'm not really in the mood to go out,” Your boyfriend says.

Figuring he’ll just tell you what he really wants at some point, you just say: “Okay,” And go back to your book, which you prop against his back.

Pedro rests his head more comfortably on your chest and you lower your hand from his hair to stroke his back absently. You don’t pay attention to his hands as he traces patterns in your skin but you can’t ignore the goosebumps they leave in their wake when Pedro caresses sensitive spots.

You catch yourself reading the same line multiple times before actually comprehending it. “What’s your book about?” He asks casually.

“Uhh… It’s a thriller,” You reply once you get your head together.

“It must not be that good, you’re not actually reading it,” Pedro comments, his hands carefully going from your hips to your thighs.

“Actually, it’s very good,” You frown, looking down at him. “What do you mean by that?”

He looks up at you with a slight smirk. “You haven’t flipped a page in five minutes.”

You scoff, embarrassed for getting caught right-handed. “That’s because you’re distracting me!” You point out. “Could you keep your hands to yourself, please?”

Still smirking, your boyfriend raises both hands before settling back down. But it doesn’t last too long. This time, he gets bolder and tucks his hands under your shirt, making you squirm under his touch.

“I have an idea,” He starts to pepper kisses on your chest. “Since you’re not that into that book and I’m bored, we could entertain each other.”

You don’t even reply because you’re so distracted by the way his nimble fingers tease one of your nipples over your bra. Your body begins to respond to the stimulation almost instantly, that sweet tingly sensation traveling down your spine and settling on your core.

Pedro’s lips against your chest make a shiver run through your body and he easily reaches up to your neck, nibbling on the sensitive skin before easing it out with his tongue. An involuntary moan slips past your lips as he suckles a hickey on that spot in your neck that makes you go insane.

When your brain starts to function again, you realize you’re tilting your head back to give him more access to your neck so he can continue his ministrations while your eyes are closed and you’re fisting his shirt.

Then it downs on you that it’s what he wants when he came looking for you. Which is fine, until you remember his injury.

“Hold on,” You abandon your book and pries Pedro’s face away from your neck with both hands on his shoulders. “I don’t think we shouldn’t have sex right now.”

He makes a face. “What? Why the fuck not?” He asks, confused.

“Honey, I don’t want to hurt you,” You thumb the spot on his cheek where his dimple appears when he smiles.

He shakes his head. “You’re not gonna hurt me, what are you talking about?” Your boyfriend reaches forward and attaches his lips to yours.

You don’t push him off you immediately. Instead, you kiss him back, getting lost in the sensation of his tongue in your mouth. Then you move him away again but not before biting on his bottom lip and eliciting a breathy groan out of him.

“I meant, more,” You say, panting slightly. “I don’t want to hurt you more,” You look down at his swollen lips as they look even more appealing now.

“I’m not hurt, baby,” He says, trying to go for another kiss but you stop him.

You glare at him. “Pedro,” You say and he sighs. “You know you can’t keep anything from me.”

“Okay! Yeah, I’ve got hurt in the gym a couple of days ago but it was a minor injury and I’m better now,” He confesses rapidly. “Can we fuck now? Because you’ve been killing me all this time with your yoga shit and these fucking tiny shorts,” Your boyfriend squeezes your ass and you can feel his erection when he presses you against himself.

You smirk at his confession. “Is that right?”

“Uh-huh,” Pedro hums, dipping his head to kiss your neck.

You feel your skin prickle with goosebumps in response to his lips and you close your eyes. “Are you sure?” You ask again in all seriousness. “Are you really better?”

“I’m fine,” He rasps, dragging his lips across your jaw.

You buckle your hips against him unwittingly and he moans at the friction. You end up locking your legs around his hips and, in desperation, you hold his jaw and bring his lips back to yours. Pedro gladly kisses you back, tucking his hands into your shorts.

Settling into the couch, something pokes into your back uncomfortably. “Hold on, hold on,” You push him away again.

At first, he thinks you’re about to protest again. But, when you remove the book you were reading from under you and throw it carelessly on the coffee table before pulling him down by his t-shirt, Pedro knows he’s won.

Your boyfriend smiles into the kiss and holds your hip with one hand while grabbing your thigh with the other. He presses his erection against your core again just to hear your sweet whimper.

But he’s not the only one that knows your weak spots and you quickly work to your advantage, lowering your kisses to his throat this time. In addition, you slip your own hands under his shirt, and his reaction from your nails running up his back is to buckle his hips again.

“Fuck, baby,” He hisses as you nip his neck.

You suckle a spot, giving in a hickey of your own before moving away to see the product of your work. But you get distracted at the look of him – his disheveled hair is pointing in every direction, his lips are swollen from your kisses, and his eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown with lust. Everything is a product of your work as well.

“You’re so sexy, corazón. Mi mamacita perfecta,” Your boyfriend murmurs, looking down at you as his hands slowly run up your sides, taking your shirt with them.

You nearly melt into a puddle at him speaking Spanish. “Yeah, papi?” You ask.

The look on his face at your choice of words is downright obscene and he says something in Spanish under his breath that you didn’t catch. It also does make him move more urgently, taking off your shirt more and throwing it somewhere in the living room.

Pedro kisses you fervently before trailing his kisses down your jaw and neck. You moan at the feeling of his hands kneading your breasts and teasing your nipples over your bra. He slips both hands under you when you arch your back and easily unclasps the undergarment as his mouth travels further south, nibbling on your collarbone.

“Tan hermosa,” His warm breath against your skin gives you goosebumps again and you shiver in expectation.

He peppers your chest with wet kisses until arriving at the valley of your breasts. Your boyfriend drags his soft lips against your skin and his mustache tickles you, but you love it. You arch your back again and Pedro chuckles against your skin, sensing your desperation for him to take your nipple into his mouth. He mumbles for you to calm down in Spanish and does what you wish.

Immediately, you tangle your fingers into his curls, moaning at the feeling of his tongue. After a bit, he switches to the other nipple but keeps teasing the previous one with his thumb.

Even though the sensation your his mouth on your tits is wonderful, you’re getting so aroused that it’s starting to ache.

Absently, you push his head down. “Baby,” You whine, squirming under him.

“What’s going on, corazón?” Pedro’s hair is even messier now. He tilts his head, cupping your back as he looks up at you. “Do you need me lower?” He kisses your underboob and then the spot above your navel. “Maybe here?” His fingertips brush your clit over your shorts.

“Y-yes,” You sound winded at the slight touch. “Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” He nuzzles your stomach before dragging his lips and nose down your belly button.

Pedro keeps spreading feather-like kisses down your body and the anticipation only makes you ache more for his touch. You know he’s in the mood for teasing when he doesn’t waste the time slipping both your shorts and panties down your legs. He does take his time kissing the way back up your legs though.

You know you’re embarrassingly wet as you could feel the air colder against your core. “Mami,” Pedro muses after kissing your knee. “You’re dripping wet.”

Your boyfriend runs his index finger across your folds, gathering some of your slick, and it nearly makes you burst into flames. “Baby, please,” You stutter, buckling your hips toward him once again. “Stop playing around and eat my pussy, papi.”

He groans, as you expected, and moves toward your core quickly. Throwing your left leg over his shoulder and pushing your right one to expose you more, Pedro dives in, licking a long stripe of your pussy right away. You moan loudly and shiver at the same time, knotting your fingers into his hair again.

The vision of Pedro buried in between your legs is something that you want to burn into your memory. The way his hair falls over his forehead and how he closes his eyes in focus as his tongue works, lapping out everything you have to give him like a starved man.

As usual, he eats you out perfectly, alternating between sucking your clit and flicking his tongue on your folds. “Fuck, baby,” You cry out, buckling your hips against his mouth. “Your tongue feels so fucking good.”

Your boyfriend groans and the vibration only adds to the feeling, making you throw back your head with a loud groan. You hold his head harder against your pussy and you lock eyes with him as he pushes two fingers into you.

“Oh, shit, papi,” You gasp, moving your hands to your breasts.

He moves his mouth away and licks his lips. “Does this feel good, mi vida?” Pedro asks, pumping his fingers in and out.

“Yes,” You close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of his fingers.

Pedro moves one of your hands away from your boob and covers it with his own, pinching the nipple with his nimble fingers. The added sensation makes you clench around his fingers and he curses in Spanish, reattaching his mouth to your clit.

The combination of his tongue flickering quickly on your bundle of nerves and his fingers scissoring inside you has your legs quivering.

“Oh, God. No, baby, stop,” You ask, panting. You push his head away. “Stop,” You repeat. “I need your cock. I want to cum on your cock.”

“You will, baby girl,” Your boyfriend reassured you but keeps moving his fingers.

You reach out and grab his face, making him look at you. “I want your cock inside me right now, Pedro,” You demand more firmly.

He nods, pulling his fingers away. “Yes, vida.”

Pedro pushes his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean as you sit up to help him out of his clothes. You remove his shirt but he attaches his lips to yours before you could do the same with his shorts. Even so, you reach out and pull his shorts and boxers briefs down to his thighs.

He opens his mouth but whatever he is about to say dies on his lips as you take him in your hands. Instead, your boyfriend groans and immediately thrusts into your fist. You pump his length a few times and he pulses in your hand, ready to stretch you out. So you line him up at your entrance without waiting for him to fully remove the rest of his clothes.

Pedro fills you up with a thrust, pulling loud noises out of both of your throats. “Fuck, corazón,” He rasps with his eyes closed, basking at the sensation of you squeezing him. “You feel so good.”

“You too, baby,” You say, searching for his lips. “You’re so big,” You gasp.

He kisses you and starts to move slowly. You moan as he stretches you out, wrapping your legs around his waist, your brain turning into mush. As the pace starts to get more rapid, you stick your nails to your boyfriend’s back, mewling as he nibbles on your neck and collarbone.

When Pedro grabs your left leg, raising your knee to waist level, your eyes roll to the back of your head. The new position gives him more space to move and makes his cock reach new spots inside you.

“Oh, shit,” You cry out, holding to him tighter.

“Yeah, baby?” Your boyfriend huffs, looking at you. “Do you like it like that?”

“Y-yes,” You whimper, grasping onto his arm. “Yees, papi, like that.”

You don’t even need to ask him to go faster because he does it as soon as you stop talking. The sound of his hips slapping against your thighs starts to get louder, echoing around the room along with your moans as he fucks you into the couch.

After a little bit, Pedro’s movements start to slow down. “Hold onto me, corazón,” He says.

“Huh?” Your lust-induced brain doesn’t quite register what he says.

Instead of repeating, your boyfriend wraps an arm around you and pushes both of you off the couch. He sits down with you on his lap and manages to remove his shorts and underwear, spreading his legs wider.

Pedro looks up at you, settling back against the backrest cushions. “I want to watch you ride my cock, princesa,” He says.

You smirk, resting both hands on his shoulders and starting to bounce on his length. “Like this?”

He rests his head back and closes his eyes. “Sí, bonita,” Pedro moans.

You giggle and, without halting your movements, you cup his face and kiss him. Your boyfriend rests his hands on your hips and you bite his bottom lip, causing him to squeeze your flesh.

Pedro’s attentive eyes rake over your body as you ride him, his hands following it sometimes. He cups your breasts, kneading them before guiding his mouth to capture your nipples again. You cradle his head, encouraging him to go on as your fingers massage his scalp.

He begins to thrust his hips up when your movements falter with fatigue. To keep meeting his movements, you readjust your body, resting your forearms around his shoulder to use the backrest of the couch as support.

At the same time, a slap to your right ass cheek startles you slightly but it also fuels your desire. Another slap to the other cheek has you whimpering lewdly and your boyfriend groans, holding onto your hips and helping your movements up and down on his cock.

You pull on his hair to make him look at you and he groans, grinning when he looks up at you. You take his lips and moan into his mouth as you grind your hips against his, enjoying the way your clit rubs against him. Pedro catches on to that and guides his thumb there.

A bolt of electricity makes you shiver the moment he starts to rub you and you throw your head back, cradling his neck as he looks up at you, rocking against him urgently.

He can sense your orgasm building up by the way your pussy starts to squeeze him. So he keeps toying with your clit as you return to bounce on him with more purpose, snapping your hips down onto him.

Your mewls don’t make a lot of sense anymore and Pedro’s groan joins your sounds. Craving more speed, he wraps both of his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as fucks you faster than before.

You scream, burying your nails on the cushions as your orgasm takes over you, your body trembling against Pedro. He doesn’t let you go and keeps fucking you through your orgasm, your pussy squeezing him deliciously and milking him perfectly.

“Fuck, baby girl,” Your boyfriend gasps. “Look at me,” He asks, feeling his cock swell.

You rest your forehead against his and he becomes more vocal, howling and shivering slightly as his thrusts start to falter. His cum coats your walls and he keeps fucking it further into you with the last snaps of his hips before slowing down to a stop.

None of you can form any coherent sentence and the only sound in the room is from your heavy breathing. With his cock still inside of you, your body keeps convulsing on top of him with aftershocks. Pedro curses when your pussy squeezes him again.

A soothing hand starts rubbing your back, easing you off the orgasm as your heart continues to race. He finds your lips and he kisses you sweetly, a stark contrast from the way he was fucking you literally a minute ago.

“Are you alright, corazón?” He rasps, his voice thicker.

“Yeah,” You croak out, raising your head from his and cupping his face. “Are you?”

“Fucking A, baby girl,” Pedro replies with a lazy smile and you chuckle.

“Does anything hurt?” You raise an eyebrow, playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

“Not right now,” He says truthfully. “The only thing I can feel is your sweet pussy making me hard again,” You roll your eyes but keep smiling. “Do you know you drive me crazy when you call me papi?”

“Why, honey. That’s why I do it,” You giggle at his face when you tell him that.

Once again, Pedro surprises you by lifting you up in his arms swiftly. You yelp, both in surprise and at the feeling of his cock sliding out of you. You begin to leak on him, but he doesn’t seem to care as he gets up from the couch.

You clutch onto him, looking at him questingly. “I’m gonna fuck your brains out in the shower,” He says, determined.

“Ay, ay, papi!” You say and giggle when he grunts, shaking his head.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #the mandalorian #din djarin #javier peña #oberyn martell #frankie morales #francisco morales

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