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asa-do-your-thing · 15 days ago

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OH MY GODS

“What a delight you are,” he praised, and you almost startled at how unexpected the kind word was. - I am giggling on the couch, blushing 🤭

What a delight to read! The courtiers will surely be surprised by how quickly the Hand's wife got pregnant 🤭

Obedience is Salvation

Pairing • Otto Hightower x pregnant reader

Tags • arranged marriage/marriage of convenience, angst, wedding night, power imbalance, dark Otto (sort of), mild slut shaming, mild dom/sub, teasing, spanking, p. in v. sex

Wordcount • 4,955 (no regrets)

Seduced to sin outside of marriage by Ser Gwayne, you find yourself with child. To spare your family and his own from scandal, Otto Hightower takes you to wife and teaches you obedience.

Otto Hightower Masterlist

Echoes could be heard all along the hallway in front of the Hand’s audience chambers, and you thanked the Gods and their small mercies for the fact that it was deserted, and there was no one to overhear your shame. Inside the room, Ser Otto Hightower was currently receiving your father and mother, as well as his own son, to resolve a matter that now resided in your belly.

Never in your young life had you ever thought you would find yourself in such a position, and yet your condition would soon be unmistakable. For now it was hidden, but in a few short weeks you would swell with the evidence of the life that was growing inside of you, one born of sin and carelessness.

The raised voices quieted for a minute, and you closed your hand more firmly over the seven-pointed star pendant you were clutching.

The large doors suddenly opened and Ser Gwayne stepped out—you took an eager step forward, but all your hopes sunk through your stomach and spilled at your feet when you saw the look on his face. It was cold and displeased. “I am sorry,” he said primly. “May the Gods bless you, and my child.”

“Whatever you mean, Ser?” you gasped, rushing after him when his long strides took him further down the hallway, leaving the Hand’s tower.

Despite your shame, you had been hoping for a happy outcome. On the evenings you and your lover had found refuge in hidden corners of the Red Keep, he had often repeated that he would not leave you in disgrace.

Charmed as you were by his words and his face, you had trusted him to follow through and ask for your hand, however months went by and he did not. Surely now that you were with child, he would have petitioned his father the Hand and your own family, and a wedding would take place.

“My father and yours will explain,” he said over his shoulder, barely stopping in his escape.

“Will you not wed me, then?” you cried out, and at that he had the decency to look ashamed.

“Speak to my father,” he said again, before disappearing down the corridor. Before you could rush to follow him, a hand took the crook of your elbow and pulled you back.

“Come, my dear,” your mother said, and shocked as you were by your lover’s behavior, you let her lead you into the Hand’s audience chamber. It was larger than you had expected, but you could hardly focus on the room, instead you were instantly struck by your father’s pacing in front of the hearth.

Standing proudly in front of an imposing desk, Ser Otto was looking calm but weary. “I don’t understand. Ser Gwayne said you would explain,” you could barely articulate, but forced yourself to address the man.

Otto sighed, gesturing for you to sit on one of the two armchairs that had been placed on the rug, facing the desk. Your mother helped you into one of them, then sat in the other one, letting go of your arm. You looked crestfallen, your shoulders shaking minutely while your eyes glanced between himself and your father, looking for answers.

“Indeed. The matter of the fact is that the young Ser is already betrothed, and part of the very handsome dowry has already been paid,” your father interjected from behind you, and for a moment you refused to believe what he had just said.

“I don’t understand,” you said again, sounding meek as a lamb.

“It means my son cannot marry you, my lady,” Otto explained, firm but not unkind. While he was not inclined to feel pity towards the foolishness of youth, he was rather ashamed of his son’s behavior and did not wish to see you burst into hysterics.

“Cannot or would not?” you cried out, reaching out for your mother again. “He made a promise to me.”

“Whatever promises my son has made to you when he—” Otto cleared his throat. “—courted you, are void and null, and he knew it full well.”

At that you brought a hand to your mouth to stifle your cries, and buried your face into your mother’s chest when she pulled you into an embrace, uncaring for the discomfort of two armrests in her way. She had barely said a word all audience, letting her husband speak in the name of your family.

“This is a disgrace!” your father raged, much as he had done for the past half an hour.

“Mind your tone, or soon the whole castle will know of our shame!” your lady mother hissed over her shoulder, finally voicing her concerns.

Her words seemed to trigger another wave of emotion for you, and you cried out—now the harsh reality of the situation was clear to you: you had brought shame to your family and possibly ruined their good reputation. “What will happen to me, then?” you lamented. “Will I be sent away in disgrace, and what of my baby?”

“Perhaps such matters should have come to your mind before—” your father admonished, which Otto interrupted with the offer he had thought of the night prior, already knowing of the matter from his son.

It had plunged his already preoccupied mind into more thinking. Surely Gwayne should have known better than to seduce a young, unmarried lady of the court and to lead her into sin, but he supposed such was the way of young men. He had once been encouraged by his own brother to sow his wild oats before marriage, however it was common knowledge not to dally with highborn girls.

Whether it was arrogance or foolishness, Otto did not intend this misstep to bring shame to his own family. It was grounds for dismissal from the king, and he needed to protect his integrity.

“I will take you to wife, my lady,” Otto announced, which made you startle and look up from your mother’s comforting shoulder—your crying abruptly stopped as you took in his words.

It felt as though the ground had vanished from under your feet and left you floating in the air, for you would have never expected this prospect. Surely the Hand could not mean such an offer, and yet he looked as serious as you had ever seen him, sitting on the throne and conducting duties in the name of the king. His long, angular face was titled towards you, and his eyes were kind despite the displeased set of his mouth.

“An arrangement has been found with your father. I will provide for you and your child, and thus both our families will be shielded from scandal,” the older man continued.

“This is the best outcome you could hope for,” your mother whispered, her hands clutching yours. You finally detached your gaze from the Hand—your now future husband—and looked at your mother and her pleading gaze.

Slowly, at loss for words, you nodded. Ser Otto did not wait for you to speak, and walked around the desk he had been standing in front of, then settled his hands on the backrest. “It is decided, then. I shall see you in the Grand Sept within the fortnight, my lady.”

Your mother pulled you to stand again, even though your knees felt weak and you still struggled to understand what you had just agreed to.

“Thank you, my Lord Hand,” you exclaimed, almost as an afterthought, as you suspected you would come to be eternally grateful, when the shock would abate.

Women’s instincts were often correct, your mother had taught you, and you found yourself agreeing as indeed, when a fortnight came to a close and you wed Ser Otto in a private ceremony, you were utterly grateful.

Reality had finally caught up with you, and when you had realized how fortunate you were not to have been disinherited by your father and sent away to earn your keep and raise your child in shame.

He was a lot older than any prospect you would have ever considered, and you had to admit his presence and status quite intimidated you. He had the king’s ear and effectively served as his voice when the man was indisposed, which seemed to be more and more often these days, as his health declined.

The ceremony had been short and perfunctory, and your father had noted that it was a near miracle that no rumor had spread at court about your indiscretions and the reason for this rather odd union.

You supposed you had your lord husband to thank for this. Despite your worries, you intended to conform to what was expected of a wife. Ser Otto was your salvation, and you would not want to provoke his anger.

“I wanted to say again, how grateful I am, my Lord Hand,” you said to him as he closed the door to his private chambers after the wedding supper.

You had been too afraid to request an audience with him and asked what he expected of you, unwilling to compromise his offer. Nerves knotted your stomach, but you promised yourself that whatever he wanted from you, you would grant it—your mother had warned you that he might intend to consummate, as was his right.

No matter his expectations, you thought it would be better to be wife to the Hand and submit to his desires than to raise your child in disgrace. Court was ruthless, but poverty frightened you too much, as well as the prospect of your babe potentially being taken from you.

“There is no need for such formalities now,” Ser Otto assured you, unbuttoning the first few rows of his doublet.

“Without your generous offer, I would have been sent away in disgrace,” you insisted, wondering if you should assist him. However he did not go past his breastbone before he stopped, leaving his garment loose over his frame once he unbuckled his belt and set it aside.

You stood in the middle of his chambers, the carpet plush under the thin soles of your shoes. It was well-lit and warm, and overall comfortable. The bed was larger than the one in your room, with large, plushy pillows and thick blankets thrown over the footboard, and the mere sight was enough to make you flush.

Otto observed you for a minute, considering your position and your worries—your father could have easily demanded money from him and sent you to give birth away from the capital and to leave your babe behind to be raised with extended family.

Such was often the case when young unmarried ladies found themselves with child. Instead your father had requested that Otto erased the shame his son had caused, and he found a rather agreeable answer to such a request.

Despite your obvious naivety and foolishness, you were a sweet, beautiful young woman, and it pained him to know that his own blood could be raised far away from his concern. He would happily raise the child as his own and hopefully, teach him the values of dignity and honor his son clearly had not retained from his education.

If the child turned out to be a boy, he might inherit part of the fortune your father had made in his lands, but it would only be so if he had a proper parentage.

In the end, there would be another child with the Hightower name, and Otto took pride in it.

“It was particularly unwise of you to dally with a man outside of wedlock,” he finally replied, a bit harsher than you would have expected.

You knew him to speak the truth, still shame burned your throat and hot tears rose to your eyes. “I pray on my knees every night for forgiveness, my Lord,” you answered, your voice wavering.

Otto had to admit he could not decide if your tears endeared or irritated him. You seemed to accept your fate with grace and you showed genuine contrition, but he still felt the need to correct whatever was the source of your initial transgression.

“You shall address me as your husband now,” he corrected, not unkindly, and yet you felt properly chastised.

“Of course, my lord husband,” you breathed, eager to be agreeable to him.

Otto felt your eyes on him as he crossed the room and sat near the hearth, settling into an armchair. Even though you were now his wife, there was something rather illicit about your presence in his chambers, carrying what ultimately was another man’s babe.

“I must admit the surprise I felt when I was made aware of your situation,” he continued under your hesitant gaze. “Surely a young lady of your station would have been taught to keep herself from sin.”

Something akin to satisfaction coiled in his stomach as your breath obviously hitched and you gripped your wrists harder, crossed in front of you. “I was indeed taught. I have shown great disregard to my education,” you confirmed, your shoulders trembling as tears finally rolled down your cheeks. “I allowed myself to be led astray—”

Otto made a soothing noise. “None of that now, crying will not gain you any favor from me,” he said, knowing he was being more cruel than he needed to be, but your sweet face flushed with shame was delightful.

Nodding fervently, you took a steadying breath before you slowly walked up to him, yet did not sit in the chair across from him, likely waiting for his permission. He did not grant it.

“The sin does not lie only with you, but with my son. He not only risked your reputation, but that of my family as well,” he explained, to which you nodded again, seemingly eager not to contradict him.

He shifted in his seat, his knees coming slightly apart, and you thought that he looked more noble now than he had while standing, perhaps even more intimidating. He was a man expecting to be obeyed and you did not want to disappoint. You were already exposed as a sinner in his and your family’s eyes, you would not be a deficient wife as well.

“I would like to see what he risked it for,” he said, which sounded very much like a command.

The meaning of his words caught up to you and you nearly gasped out loud, although his request did not come as a surprise. You did not reply, instead lifted your hands to unlace the gown that was fastened at the side of your chest then at your waist, unwrapping the fabric that had been tightened to hide the budding evidence of your condition. While your belly had barely started to swell, your chest had grown tighter.

Fabric pooled at your feet, and soon your shoes were toed off as well, leaving you in a simple shift and stockings, and for a minute you faltered. The light of the fire surely did enough to show your curves through the thin cotton.

“Well, were you always this bashful, or has shame reined your impulses in?” he commented, making your knees wobble slightly and heat spread across your face.

“I know better than to succumb to urges, now,” you tried to defend yourself, rather weakly.

“This is an important lesson to be learned,” he admitted, and for a moment you thought he would leave the matter be. “Do you know the qualities I expect in my wife?” he asked, and the rumble of his voice made you shiver.

It took you a moment to find your words. “Restraint. Obedience,” you tried. “Dignity.”

“Yes, but not just,” he replied. “I expect her to fulfill the full duties of a wife to any husband…”

At that you knew he would not let you leave these rooms without taking his due, and resolved yourself to perform it. If your mistake had taught you one thing, it was that intercourse could be pleasurable, and you supposed it would be no different with your lawful husband. You pulled your shift up and past your shoulders, draping it over the armchair facing him.

Shivers ran down your spine and limbs as you were exposed to his intense gaze. He looked pleased, his eyes roaming over your chest and down between your thighs, and you had to admit that it incensed you rather. While you had certainly mistaken the lust you had felt for Ser Gwayne for love, you could admit to yourself that there was pride in standing bare in front of a man and provoking his desire.

“Do I please you, lord husband?” you asked, eyes cast down but the hint of a smile pulling at your lip.

“Come closer,” he suggested.

You stepped further into the light of the fire, your socked feet making muted sounds on the carpet, until you came to stand within an inch of his parted knees. Embarrassment and arousal both curled in your stomach, a loop of sensations that made your breasts peak and your core clench.

“You are a beauty indeed, enough to lead a man to sin,” he said in marvel. His large hand made its way up the curve of your inner thigh. “What promises did my son make, for you to give him what you had no right giving?” he asked with an eyebrow raised. “Your purity was for your husband to have.”

His thumb traced the crease between your rosy folds, once, then twice, then again until you granted him another shiver and shifted your stance, your feet coming further apart. Heat licked up your core, running all the way into you, making you clench.

“He promised that he would take me to wife, and cherish me, and that I would want for nothing,” you said with tears in your eyes, the promises now sour on your tongue. “He was—”

Shame cut off your words, or perhaps was it the gasp that pushed past your lips when Otto pressed the pad of his thumb at your pearl. “Tell me, little wife,” he encouraged.

“He was the son to the Hand of the King,” you replied sheepishly. “I was rather… impressed, I supposed.”

Otto breathed a contained laugh, the irony of the situation not lost on him. He continued his mindful exploration, dragging his palm up your belly, tracing the lovely curves of your breasts, then down again at your hips. Soon the evidence of your sin would show, but for now he could happily pretend you were untouched, and his to conquer.

You leaned into his hands instinctively, and he wanted to chastise you for how obliging you were, unsurprised that you had been so easy to convince.

“Eager, are you?” he crooned after you rocked into his hand, chasing the pressure of his fingers.

Your folds had swollen pink, wetness gathering at their crease despite yourself. It was undeniable that he knew where to touch you to make you tremble.

Without another word, he took his hands back and you bit back the sound of disappointment. For a moment you feared he would leave you as you were, trembling and shameful. Instead he rose, walking towards the bed while he unbuckled his belt and shed his doublet.

His tall, rather lanky frame was revealed, but his severe air kept you rooted to the spot.

“Show me how obedient you can be,” he said, gesturing to the bed, and you did not need a more direct order.

You stepped over to the side of the bed, but when you turned to face him again, intending to lay back and let your knees fall off the edges, he made a tutting sound.

You felt yourself flush, feeling rather chastised again, and a simple tap of his finger at your shoulder directed you to remain with your back to him, instead bending forward until your pelvis was pressed against the edge of the mattress and your cheek hit the bedspread.

It was silky and smelled of soap, but there was also an underlying scent, stronger and more permeating, that reminded you of the incense at prayer and old parchments.

Once again his large hands found your hips, his middle and forefingers dipping into the crease leading between your legs, his thumbs pressing into the flesh of your backside. The pleased hum that came next made you shiver in pride, all the more when he took his hands away, only to have them return to your round cheeks and press into them firmly.

You melted into the sheets when one of his palms, warm and soft, followed the curve of your spine and pushed down slightly between your shoulder blades.

“How delightful it would be, to mindlessly lose myself in this,” he commented, taking a step back, and from the sound of it, disrobing himself fully.

You fought against the urge to look over your shoulder, instead resting easy in the knowledge that he seemed to be a gentle man with a firm hand, and that you could trust him.

Your breathing picked up again when he pressed close to you once more, one of his hands finding purchase at your plush skin while the other returned to your most intimate place. A thumb pushed past your folds, spreading the moisture around, and then was replaced with what felt larger and heavier.

Otto noticed how you twitched when he ran the tip of his cock up and down the crease of your cunt, slightly pressing the tip of his length at your entrance, enough to make you clench around his absence. You gripped the edge of the sheet and parted your knees, angling your hips, no doubt to make the glide smoother, but Otto did not appreciate it.

“Do you truly think you have earned this?” he asked, his tone sharp and smooth at the same time, and admired the shiver that ran down your back. “After all, is it not such an indulgence that landed you in this situation?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you held onto your composure. “Yes, husband,” you whispered back.

“You will take what I deem you to deserve, and no more,” he said, to which a spark of heat burst in your core. You bit your lip, nodding fervently against the bedspread, rubbing your face in it to soothe your burning eyes.

Otto finally pushed further, heat spreading in his belly at the way your cunt stretched to welcome the head of his cock. It had been too long since he had indulged in such a pleasure, and he found there was nothing quite like it. Nothing could compare to this sweet heat, to the softness of your skin and the whimpers you were trying to contain.

He could tell by your trembling that you were holding yourself in place, and whenever he would pull back you would grind back, following his movements.

He started a slow rhythm, enjoying the gradual build of pleasure, never pushing further than the head of his cock, instead finding a twisted sort of satisfaction at your frustration. He longed for a full thrust, but knew he would find a deeper climax if he took his time. He let his hands roam your frame, delighted by how responsive you were, but determined to teach you the virtues of patience.

“Husband,” you sighed, your fingers digging into the sheets.

His resolve wavered for a moment and he allowed himself to push further in, your walls stretching to accommodate him. You whined and clenched delightfully around him but he stopped, pressed almost to the hilt, savoring the deeper thrust. He pulled your hair aside, which was clinging to the back of your neck, and was pleased to find that the skin of your nape was flushed. He resisted the urge to kiss you there, knowing there would be time for tenderness later.

It was obvious you were a creature made for pleasure, and that eventually, you would give him all he could ever wish for. However, it seemed that for now, you would need further guidance, as you decided to disobey him. Your hips angled away from him, your belly rubbing against the bedspread and he knew that if he were to look he would find it stained with your essence.

A sharp sound made you jump and yelp before the sting on your backside registered—heat rose in your face when you realized your husband had struck you.

“You will find satisfaction in what you are given and nothing more,” he admonished. “Obey me and I might be more lenient in the future, but not before you have learned your lesson.”

You whimpered, clenching around his length—the pressure made the spot inside of you burst with heat, and you grew desperate for touch at your pearl. “Please,” you whined, sobbing when it earned you another strike across the backside, your cheek burning in time with the throbbing at your core.

Otto watched as you rocked your hips back despite his warnings, angling them and chasing your own pleasure.

“I can see now that perhaps you sought out sin of your own will instead of being seduced into it,” he murmured, rubbing the spot where he had hit you, then pushing his thumb into it for the simple pleasure of making you squirm. “You will take what I give you, or be left wanting, do you understand?” he asked as he pulled away completely, leaving you empty.

You clenched, sobbing into the bedspread, and he soothed you with another gentle stroke up your back. It was only once you had settled that he pushed back in, his cock fitting perfectly in the warmth of your body. You sighed when he sheathed himself fully, finally surrendering to the pressing desire that burned inside of him.

He could see you quivering, desperate for more, but the rhythm he started remained steady and patient. Both of his hands settled on your hips, his thumb digging into the plush flesh where he had struck you, and he lost himself in the way you were clenching around him, struggling to stay put.

A rough breath pushed past his lips after a stronger thrust, and he knew his release wasn’t far. He forced himself to slow down, enjoying the gradual ascent, almost regretting that it would soon be over. You were growing more and more restless in his hands and it was incensing him.

His next few thrusts were sharper, more purposeful until finally he buried himself inside of you and stilled, shutting his eyes as his cock throbbed and spilled. His peak coursed through him in deep waves, made stronger by his patient endeavor, making his limbs shake and his core loosen.

“Husband,” you whined, high and pleading, a great sob tearing from your throat when he pulled away. Uncaring that he was being rough, he pulled at your hip until you flipped over, now spread on your back, your legs falling off the bed.

Looming over you, he looked as poised as he had earlier in the evening and you felt all the more debauched for it. He had left you at the edge and you wanted to weep, remembering he had threatened you to leave you wanting.

To your utter relief he pressed his softening cock back into you, his dark eyes looking down at you intensely. His thumb found your pearl and he pressed firm circles on it, encouraging you to rock back against his touch, and the dual sensation proved to be your undoing.

“Take it,” he requested, and the warmth in his voice was the final straw.

Your vision swam as pleasure erupted at your core, the knot of tension you had been desperately trying to soothe finally snapping. Shame burned bright behind your breastbone at being so exposed, but you were too grateful to care, and too powerless to stop the pulses of pure ecstasy that made your whole body quiver. You slapped a hand over your mouth and rode the waves, grinding into his touch until finally, you were spent.

As soon as you had settled again, he pulled from your body without a word. You expected him to turn cruel once more, perhaps chastise you for your lust, but instead he turned soft. He gently instructed you to lay still as he stepped away, and when he returned it was with a damp cloth. He wiped at the mess between your legs efficiently, mindful of how sensitive you were.

“What a delight you are,” he praised, and you almost startled at how unexpected the kind word was.

“Did I please you, husband?” you whispered, looking up at the ceiling in sudden shyness.

“You did,” he replied, soothing a hand up and down your thigh, then bending to press a kiss at the inside of your knee. You beamed, pride erupting in your chest, and you immediately started to wonder what else you could do to please him.

Otto left your side again to wrap himself in a long robe, and you admired the graceful way with which he carried himself. You did not give him the time to do the tie and instead jumped from the bed and rushed to him, reaching for the belt.

“I am glad I was not a disappointment,” you confessed as you tied the knot. He hooked a finger under your chin, and the gesture made you preen.

“It was not perfect, but we shall work on your obedience, within and outside of this room,” he promised, and it was enough to make your eyes flutter in anticipation.

You would prove to him, and to yourself, that you were worthy of this chance he had given you, and would work hard to redeem yourself. You would become the perfect wife.

Dividers and beta reading by @zaldritzosrose. Thank you for being awesome! Story requested by anon ♡

Otto Taglist: @thedarkwhisperstome @targaryen-madness

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#asas fic recs #asa approved #house of the dragon #otto hightower

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