#otto x you

[sylasthegrim]

In All the Freshness of her Youth

Otto Hightower x Targaryen!reader (Rhaenyra's younger sister)

Requested by @sunphyre

Day 16 ✦ 2,470 words ✦ rating explicit

October Celebration Masterlist

In every noble family across the realm, second sons fought to carve themselves a place in the lines of inheritances and successions, often overlooked and underestimated, but you knew the fate of second daughters was not much better.

As the second female child of King Viserys and the late Queen Aemma, you had grown up in the shadow of your elder sister and her strong character, as well as under the cloud of disappointment. Upon your birth, your father had been so certain you would be a son that he only smiled in a chagrined manner and kissed your mother on the forehead before leaving the room. 

Queen Aemma had been taken with you, like she had been taken with all her children from the moment they took their first breath, and she was immeasurably grateful when you survived the cradle and grew into a healthy child, albeit calm and discreet.

Like in almost every aspect of your life, you blended in the shadows; when the good queen died, and as the tensions regarding the succession kept the attention on your uncle Daemon and your sister Rhaenyra, you retracted further into yourself. 

As time went on and the new queen bore more children for your father, your own fate was almost forgotten, and the matter of your own matrimony wasn’t at the forefront of the king’s mind. As Queen Alicent gave birth to her third child, a healthy white-haired son, your sister Rhaenyra was approaching the end of her first pregnancy, and even though she remained grateful of your presence at her side, you did not feel that you belonged.

The sun was high in the sky the afternoon Jacaerys was born, and as the babe was placed in your arms, your heart soaring with pride at being an aunt to a child you already knew you would love, but the excitement was soon overshadowed by shock.

The child was pale of skin, much paler than anticipated—you still remembered the golden glow of Baela and Rhaena’s skin as they had been presented to the King a year prior, Laena and Daemon looking down at them with pride as the twins slept peacefully in their arms. Also, where thin silver hair was expected, the babe instead bore a thick mop of dark curls, which suited his equally dark eyes. 

All gazes turned to Ser Harwin Strong, the son of the Hand, and the rumors grew until Lord Lyonel could not take their weight anymore and announced that he would be returning to Harrenhal. His loss wasn’t mourned long, as another came to replace him.

Plagued by doubts, King Viserys called his former trusted advisor Ser Otto Hightower back to court, and the man took his place back at the king’s side as though he had never left.

You had been a child when Ser Otto had been dismissed, but now you were a young woman on the cusp of adulthood, freshly turned eight and ten. One of the first matters Ser Otto brought to the king’s attention was your unmarried status, and your father’s answer surprised all those at court, yourself foremost.

In gratitude for his service and the rapidity with which he had returned to his king, Ser Otto was offered your hand in marriage, uniting the houses Targaryen and Hightower even further. It was only logical, your father had said, and you had nodded without a word, accepting your fate with grace.

Grace was your utmost quality, Ser Otto had always found. There was an air of dignity and airiness to you, in contrast with the chaotic energy your elder sister possessed. You were well-liked and trusted around the Red Keep, occupying yourself with noble causes such as the care of orphans in your father’s city. It was no secret to anyone that you had a profound love for children, and that becoming a mother was a task you looked forward to, despite the hardship you knew it could be.

Somewhere deep inside you, you longed for a connection with your own mother and hoped that in taking on the role she had fulfilled all these years, you would finally find your place in this world.

You and Ser Otto had not spoken since the King’s announcement of your betrothal, and you found yourself reluctant to be alone with the man. Your position was one many women knew, to be married to a man you had no love for. Perhaps you would grow to love him, as Alicent had grown to love your father—but you would love his children, you had been assured.

You might not ever love your husband, but you will love his children, on that front a mother has no choice, your Septa had told you, and it seemed reasonable. There was nothing more natural in the world than a mother loving the babes that came out of her womb, even if their conception had been the fulfillment of duty and not a moment of passion.

You were praying on your knees in the Sept one morning as Ser Otto approached you carefully. You felt the back of your neck prickle but you didn’t turn, recognizing him by his measured steps and the strong smell of pine and blackcurrant. 

Keeping your head down, the collar of your dress revealing the pale skin of your nape, dotted with faint freckles; you waited for him to speak.

“Princess,” he greeted in a quiet voice, and you appreciated his consideration for the quiet of the Sept.

You were beautiful, Otto could not deny it. In all the freshness of your youth, you carried with you a sense of renewal and peace. Even though he tried his best not to let those thoughts influence him, he missed the gentle touch of a woman, the soft embraces and the sweet smell of her skin, of her hair. It was only natural for a man still in good health to be in want of a wife, and there you were, offered to him by no less than the king.

How could he not covet you, a beautiful woman in the prime of her youth? 

As you were on your knees in front of the Gods, whispering fervent prayers that sounded like the gentle rush of a stream in the eerie silence of the Sept. He admired you; from the curve of your neck as you glanced at him tentatively over your shoulder, to the soft hairline that blended into a neat hairdo at the back of your head, and finally to the length of your eyelashes as you peered at him.

“Ser Otto,” you greeted in a gentle tone, and his name rolled off your tongue in such a melodic tone that he was immediately taken with you. 

You would make a fine wife, he decided here and then, and he would cherish you as you deserved.

As the doors of the Hand’s quarters closed behind you, the scent of parchment, pine wood, and blackcurrant incense wrapped around you. The room was smaller than your own chambers, but you knew you wouldn’t be expected to stay with your husband every day and night. Otto watched you with attention as you walked around the room, the hem of your cream dress sliding across the stone floors in a soft ruffle of fabric. 

Your hair had been let down for the banquet, with the top half braided away from your face. Your complexion was radiant, flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and the rush of the dances during the evening. 

Otto had been worried you would be unhappy with the match, reluctant to spend time in his presence, but you were surprisingly agreeable. You often had a soft smile on your face, and although you were quiet, the silences were comfortable. Otto could see himself enjoying evenings with you, with a light supper of cheese, grapes and wine, and perhaps a good book, if you were so inclined.

“Would you help me with my dress?” you asked timidly, pulling your husband out of his reveries.

“Of course,” Otto answered politely. He stepped closer to you as you turned, taking your hand in one hand and sliding the white mane over your shoulder, baring the laces of your dress to him.

As your freckled back was exposed to his gaze, the corset of the dress revealing your bare skin, Otto bent forward and pressed the shadow of a kiss in the crook of your neck. You startled slightly, an exhale of breath that morphed into a quiet laugh. You felt and heard your husband smile against your skin, repeating his gesture of tenderness as he pulled the last laces and your heavy dress fell to the floor.

You shivered as your bare chest was exposed to the cold hair of the room, and with a nervous intake of breath, your hands reached for the waist of your petticoat. You paused as you heard your husband disrobe behind you, the clicking sound of his doublet buckled incredibly loud to your ears.

“Husband?” you called, slightly breathless.

Picking up on your need for reassurance, your husband ran a hand along the length of your back, and the tender gesture soothed your nerves. “Do not worry, we will go slow,” Otto said in a low tone and it warmed you.

As he stepped away again, you finally pushed your linens off your hips, and pulling your shoes and socks off your feet, you stood bare to the room.

“Do you— Do you want me on the bed?” you asked as you turned, draping one arm over your chest as the other one came down to hide the patch of white hair between your legs. Otto stayed silent as he took you in. Gods, you were lovely.

You were only hiding parts of your chest, and the supple skin pressed behind your arm called to him. The curve of your waist and hips made his stomach clench, and he realized how much he longed to lose himself in your body. You flushed as you caught his gaze, your face and throat turning a delightful pink as you realized he was bare, your eyes catching a point above his shoulder and undaring to look below it. 

“You are beautiful,” Otto complimented, and the roughness of his tone made you shiver. Licking your lips, you dropped the arm that hid your chest, baring the round flesh to your husband’s gaze, your nipples peeking in the cool air of the room.

“I am glad you think so, husband,” you answered with that timid smile he enjoyed so much, and he knew that while his first wife would remain in his heart, he would come to adore you as any man should cherish his spouse.

Otto gestured to the bed and you followed his silent lead, hurrying to sit on the fresh sheets and cross your legs in front of you, hiding yourself as best as you could. You made a small sound when Otto did not follow you immediately, instead went around the bed and blew the candles that surrounded it, plunging this part of the room in darkness.

The play of shadows made a dark cocoon around you as he finally climbed beside you, and your breath left your chest as he hovered, gently pushing you down until your head was nestled in cushions, your hair splayed around you like a halo.

“We will go slow,” he repeated, and guided you to part your legs to welcome him.

The feeling of a man between your thighs must have been foreign and uncomfortable, Otto knew, but he also knew it was the order of things. All wives had to suffer the indignities required to bring children into the world, and you would be no exception.

You sighed, your arms looping around his neck as he dipped his head again, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin beneath his lips. Your breathing deepened as he lowered his body firmly against yours, and he grunted with bone-deep relief; the feeling of your bare skin against yours was heavenly, and the soft sounds you made as he ran a hand up your thigh was making his head spin.

“Husband—” you stammered again, then your arms unwrapped and you retracted them until your hands found each side of his face. “Otto,” you tried as your fingertips traced the lines on his skin, and you pressed a tentative kiss to his cheek.

Encouraged by your display of tenderness, he reached between your bodies and you gasped as you felt something warm and hard press against you. This part of your body was untouched, unexplored, and while you knew what its purpose was, it was entirely foreign to you.

As promised, Otto pushed slowly into your body, following your cues—your breathing deepened as the uncomfortable feeling receded, and as a burning stretch took hold of you, you buried your face in your husband’s neck. 

You panted as he breached you, and despite the pain and fear you held on, your knees coming up to cradle his waist as he filled you. Closing your eyes, you imagined yourself growing round with his children, coming to cherish the pains inside your body, and you felt honored that this was to be your fate.

Otto grunted as you searched his mouth again, pressing a clumsy but fervent kiss to it, hands clutching at his shoulders as he took you in quick, deep thrusts that rocked your body. 

“How good you are to me,” he praised against your lips, and you felt yourself flush.

“Only as good as you are to me,” you gasped as your abdomen pressed against his, a lick of heat running up your core. How strange, you thought, as it didn’t burn like the earlier stretch. It was only a dull ache now, overshadowed by the soaring feeling in your chest.

“How lovely you are,” he groaned into your ear as the rocking of his hips sped up. “Am I causing you pain?”

“No,” you murmured fervently, unwilling for him to slow down or stop, despite the ache. “I was made for this.”

Otto chuckled in your ear, his beard tickling you. “Indeed you were,” he answered, his hand roaming the curve that ran from your waist to your knee, your body curling around his.

“I was made to carry my husband’s children,” you said joyfully, and at that Otto’s hips stuttered. He groaned lowly, his mouth pressing another kiss to your neck, and you welcomed his fervor with equal ardor.

“How lovely you will be when that day comes, round with life,” he praised, and you closed your eyes as a wave of emotion took over you. You felt your husband shake in your hold and your core clenched around him reflexively, heat blooming inside of you. 

Dividers by @saradika ✦ beta read by @arcielee

#house of the dragon #fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #hotd x reader #hotd x you #otto hightower #otto hightower smut #otto hightower x reader #otto hightower x you #otto x reader #otto x you

[charliedawn]

Hi! I liked your fic with Ultron, I was glad to know that you are writing for him. If everything is fine, may I request a continuation of "How would they react if you were to marry someone else?", but with Ultron?

I decided to add Venom, Otto and Norman because...I love villains. 😂

"So...You chose him ?", Ultron asked before giving a disdainful glance at your partner.

He was unworthy of you. A fleshing. A nothing. You had been created for him. And yet, you had chosen an Earthling as your spouse. How shameful...And how wrong of you.

"You will come to regret your decision...", he warned you—but you shrugged.

"You never even tried to love me. He does."

He restrained a mocking laugh at your claim before his red eyes stared at you and you gritted your teeth at his mocking expression.

"And you do ?"

A shiver ran down your spine and you tried to appear confident as you took a step forward, red eyes meeting red eyes.

"I will marry him. And there's nothing you can do to stop me.", you told him with a serious expression. But, Ultron wasn't convinced. He huffed a laugh before taking another step forward, so you had to crane your neck up to even see his expression.

"Don't. Test me.", he said in a low and threatening voice and you knew he would kill everyone in the room if you kept pushing. You hadn't even invited him. He had decided to stride in and ruin everything—like always. He had made so much ruckus that you hadn't even succeeded in uttering the two important words to seal the marriage.

You wanted to escape fate. But, Ultron wasn't going to let you go so easily. You knew that. And yet...You wanted to try. You turned back towards the priest and opened your mouth.

"I..." Before you could even say I Do, he had covered your mouth to muffle any other sound you might be willing to make. He then took your soon-to-be husband by the throat and grinned at the terror in your eyes.

"The only one who you will ever be able to say 'I do' to, will be me...Understood ?"

Your eyes watered and you nodded begrudgingly. You had no choice. Maybe Ultron had been relieved of any ounce of humanity he ever had, but you hadn't. He smirked and released your husband's windpipe, only to use a metallic claw to pin the priest to his altar.

"Now...I want us to make it official. Come on, darling...", he leaned forward and chuckled darkly in your ear. "~Say yes."

"EDDIE ! Y/N IS GETTING MARRIED !"

Eddie ignored Venom. He didn't have the energy to talk right now. He just wanted to go and crawl to die in a hole. He wanted to drown his sorrow in chocolate sirup and burgers. But, Venom wouldn't let him.

Venom appeared into view and threw the bag of nachos he had in hand to the floor.

"EDDIE !"

Eddie finally raised his eyes to look at the gooey creature before him with an emotionless expression, and even Venom was surprised by the lack of reaction of his vessel.

"What ?", he asked with an unreadable expression and Venom knew at that moment that Eddie was in no playing mood.

"...Are you...Are you really going to let it happen ?", the entity asked with a little hesitancy before staring at his human vessel with something akin to worry.

Venom had never sounded or looked so small...His head peaked from underneath his coat and Eddie's jaw twitched. It seemed that even Venom could feel the storm brewing within him. He had never felt Eddie so upset, and it worried him.

You used to always be there to keep his emotions in check, but Eddie had pushed you away by hiding his feelings from you.

And now ? He had no idea what to do. One side of him was telling him to leave you alone. The other was screaming to be let out and stop what was about to happen before it was too late.

"What are we going to do, Eddie ?", Venom insisted and for the first time, it was Eddie who summoned him—covering his body and leaning into his strength as he all but growled out.

"Bring back our happiness..."

Eddie then jumped out the window and ran with the invitation he had received that very morning in his hand. He wouldn't pass out on another opportunity to be happy. Not this time.

"...Y/N ?"

You looked at the aisle and was surprised to find your ex-husband standing there—shocked. You stared at each other for a few seconds before you had the strength to utter the name you had spent years trying to forget.

"...Norman ?", you replied—dumbfounded.

He had died 5 years ago...What was he doing here ? He looked at you and one of his old coworkers who was now holding your hand before an upset frown appeared on his face.

"You...You're marrying him ?"

"It's been five years, Norman...Five years of lonely nights. Five years of emptiness. Five years of nothing but coldness.", you tried to explain and let go of your soon-to-be husband.

Norman's eyes softened a bit as he took a step forward, but realized then that you weren't alone and everyone in the church was shocked to see him there. He had heard of the ceremony as he was walking by and thought that seeing him would change your mind. But, no. He now realized he was the one who had abandoned you. He was the one who had left you and there was things he couldn't take back.

He smiled and nodded before taking a seat and gesturing for the priest to go on.

"I won't say anything more. Proceed."

Norman stared fixedly at you and knew...He knew you still loved him by the way your fingers tightened around the bouquet in your hands and how your eyes watered underneath the veil. It was his sadistic side that made him wait, made him challenge you by his sole presence.

'Come on, Y/N. You can fool yourself. But, not me.', he thought before counting the seconds until the bouquet of flowers fell to the floor and you embraced him.

It was weakness. You knew as such. But, you couldn't stay away from Norman.

"Do you have anything to say ?", you asked after Otto entered your bedroom the night before your wedding. You looked mindlessly at the city beneath you and did your best not to look at him.

"No. I understand.", he said while shaking his head and you sighed.

"Wrong answer, Otto."

Your eyes were watery and you wondered if Otto had ever not been selfish in his life ? He had went on his silly revenge quest, leaving you behind as if it meant nothing. You were supposed to marry. And he had the audacity to show up the night before and try to tell you that he supported your decision ? He shouldn't have to. He should have been here when you needed him.

Five years.

Five years of waiting, only for him to return and dare pretend to know what it felt like.

You gritted your teeth and threw the nearest glass at his face, a glass he easily caught and set aside with a sorrowful expression.

"YOU LEFT ME, COWARD !"

He didn't even flinch as you started punching his chest and screaming. He was gone. You had mourned him. All that for nothing...You finally rested your forehead against his chest and whimpered.

"I love you...And you left me."

Otto's arms wrapped around you as a shushed you softly.

"I know. I know...But, I promise. It won't happen again."

You let out a shaky breath and shook your head. The man you loved had come back, but at what price ? He wanted you to trust him. But, was it really worth it ?

You looked up and couldn't help but smile up at Otto and he smiled back before leaning forward to kiss you softly. And you let him.

Because no matter how much you wanted to hate him, your heart still belonged to him...

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #ultron x reader #norman osborn x reader #otto x you #dr otto octavius #venom x reader #eddie brock x reader #marvel

[written-in-flowers]

Can we have more Otto Hightower x Rosebud smut or is that off the table? Cause that would be devastating to my mental health 🥲

Absolutely not! Rosebud x Otto is my favorite smut series lol I'd never stop writing for them!

Pairing: otto x fem!reader

Tags: pretty vanilla compared to what they normally do lol creampie, foreplay, fingering, sex while standing, doggystyle position, both of them being absolutely horny for each other. clothed male/naked female sex, sex with clothes on(?)

A Quick One

He came up behind you when you'd stripped for your bath. You turned to greet him, but that familiar dark glint in his eyes made you pause. Warmth built up in your cheeks as he removed his cloak and approached you.

"Lady Wife," he said in his deep voice, the implication sitting right behind his low tone.

"Lord Husband," you replied, giving a playful curtsy even when fully nude.

His eyes swept over your naked form in front of the fireplace. The slight evening chill made your nipples harden, and the sight of him coming closer aroused you. Lifting your chin to meet his eyes, the smooth leather of his gloves sent shivers down to your core. Otto said nothing as he placed a chaste kiss on your lips, his beard and mustache tickling your mouth briefly. You held back the whimper in your throat from the light touch alone.

"You look beautiful this evening, love," he said, kissing you again. "Enchanting."

"Because I'm nude?" you grinned, putting your hands on his chest. Finger tracing the hand brooch on his breast, you forced yourself to keep from brushing into him right away. You felt tempted to push your breasts against him, so you could feel the smooth fabric on your sensitive nipples.

"It's when I find you the most beautiful," he smirked.

He pulled you into his arms. You trembled when his gloved hands smoothed over your waist and hips to your bottom, where he gave both cheeks a squeeze. Seeing the reaction, Otto continued groping them as he kissed you deeply. It had been too long since your husband touched you this way. With your son, his duties as Hand of the King, and general court life, moments with Otto became scarce as of late. Locking your lips with his, you slid your tongue into his mouth. Your arousal burned the longer he groped and kissed you; you gently pushed yourself to his clothed body, the mixture of fabrics sparking more sensitivity.

"I've missed you," you whispered, breaking from his lips and sliding your hands up his neck, "I've been so lonely without you."

"Forgive me, darling," he breathed, cupping one of your breasts. You whined at the thumb grazing your nipple. "It was not by my doing but-"

"-But The King's," you finished for him. "Must he always keep your from me?"

He chuckled in the next kiss. Bringing you away from the tub, Otto guided you over to the bed. Excitement flourished in your stomach once your knees hit the edge. You turned around so your body molded perfectly to his, and gave his hands further access to you. He didn't remove a stitch of clothing. Not even his gloves. You whimpered when he slid his hands up your sides to your tits.

"I am his Hand, Rosebud," he groaned in your ear. Grabbing both of them, the black leather of his gloves teased your naked breasts. "It is my duty to serve His Grace and the realm."

"And me?" you pouted, grinding into his groin. The slightest bit of hardness had you pushing against them. "I am part of the realm, am I not?"

He pressed a kiss to your neck, beard prickling your bare skin, and laughed. "You are."

"Which means you must serve me as well, does it not?"

"It does." He pinched both of your nipples, whining with you when you sqiurmed in his arms. "How may I serve you, Lady Hightower?"

You turned your head, craning your neck to reach his ear. He lowered it further to press kisses to the curve of your throat. "I'd like you to fuck me," you said, the filth from your lips making him groan, "Hard. Fill me with more of your cum, and get me pregnant again."

"As you wish, my lady."

He continued squeezing your breasts with one hand as he slipped the other between your thighs. The cool leather against your heat had you whining once again. You felt the padded fingers swirl around your throbbing clitoris, deftly touching all the spots that made you weak in his hands. Middle finger rubbing up and down your swelling clit, you could feel your entrance already clenching. Each time his fingers came slightly close, it tightened in hopes of catching them. You moaned louder when those fingers rubbed you from side to side rapidly, keeping the brushes light and quick over your dampening sex. His fingers thicker due to the gloves, Otto only slid one finger inside you. Propping one leg on the bed, you kept hold of him as he fingered you in gentle pumps at first.

"My sweet Rosebud," he moaned when you reached a hand behind you for his cock. His length already pressed into his trousers, making a large bulge you cupped easily. "Always so eager for me," he stuffed his finger further inside you and making you arch your back, "Ever since we met."

"It's hard to control it sometimes," you confessed. Expertly, you untied his breeches and pulled them down just enough to withdraw him. Having his hard length in your hand only aroused you further. "Is it wrong for a wife to want to please her husband?"

"Not at all," he moaned, pushing forward into your hand in time with his finger.

The two of you touched for a while longer before he bent you over the bed. Your body already so accustomed to his size, you took it easily. Gripping the bed sheets, keeping your legs spread apart, you stayed still as Otto feverishly pounded into you. As always, one of his hands cupped your breast to pinch your nipple while you rubbed your aching clitoris for him. You made your fingers go in time with his thrusts, the need for an orgasm becoming hotter and hotter.

You both came quicker than usual. All the tension built up over time exploded into a hard, body-quaking orgasm that had you muffling your cries. He kept himself deep inside you for several minutes, doing his usual routine of pushing his seed further. Cedric already growing into a toddler, you'd told Otto you wished for another and he gladly agreed. When he finally pulled out, you stood up on aching and wobbly knees.

"Let's bathe together," he said in your ear, and you knew he was far from done with you.

#otto hightower #otto x reader #otto x you #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #rhys ifans #otto smut #otto hightower smut #otto x rosebud series

[brwnicons]

Otto x Male Reader

PT. 1 Here

☆ Hope you like it! Please, tell me if you find any mistake ☆

"God, Otto, how can you be so soft?" You groaned, your words muffled as your face was buried on his wide chest. It was like lying on a warm pillow that had its own heartbeats and that eventually raised or lowered.

He answered with a loud belly laugh, his body moving with it and so it was your face "Soft? You're laying beside a supervillain, boy. I don't think soft is a very accurate word."

You lifted your sight to look at him, raising an eyebrow as questioning his words

"Supervillain, right? Oh, I am so scared" You joked after you raised your hand to grasp a metal claw that happened to be passing next to you. You started to caress gently the metal pieces while looking into the doctor's eyes.

"For being so dangerous" you emphasized the adjetive with a dramatical hand gesture "You haven't harmed me once, why don't you hurt me right now? I've got your pretty evil tiny gripper right here". The claw chirped confused, first at you and then at the Otto, why would it hurt you?

He sighed, "How could I ever hurt you, my dear boy?" He allowed his proudness walls fall a little. Just for you, just because the comfort of the situation, comfort you helped him achieve. "You're the most precious thing I have"

Ah, what a pity that he noticed too soon how cheesy he was being.

"But... that doesn't mean I'm not able to do horrible things!" He excused himself, "I have terrorized thousands, I have made a hell out of their lives and I do not regret any of it! This city fears me, boy." He continued while slowly raising, his face getting closer and closer to your impassive one, his bare teeth exposed as a primal show of intimidation and his eyes were piercing yours with false rage.

You couldn't help it at his efforts and giggled soundly at how he tried to intimidate you; you had seen him in the most embarrassing situations, you had shared the cutest moments with him and, damn, you just saw him overestimulated under your body, turned into a shaky mess. "Easy there, scary man" you snickered while giving him little pats on his shoulder.

It was physically impossible for him to hurt you or for you to feel intimidated by him, you both knew it, but you just looved to mess around with him about it.

"Sorry, I just can't see you as evil, you're too cute!" you said between giggles, still caressing the claw, just to end up leaving a little peck on top of it.

Otto sighed heavily in defeat and laid back again, closing his eyes, but he didn't try to take the actuator out from your grasp. You lied beside him and looked sweetly in his eyes.

"You know, I still think you're a pretty intimidating supervillain" you said while hugging his claw gently as if it were some kind of plush.

He didn't respond, but you saw how his eyes softened.

He really didn't have had a good streak lately, spiderman always dismantling his plans or taking his hostages out of him without too much effort. In addition, his experiments were not going as planned and his lab was full of scattered scrap and broken gadgets because of his tantrums.

"Also, I think you're an amazing scientist"

"I know" he dryly answered, his brow slightly furrowing. You looked back at the claw between your hands "Sometimes I don't think you really do" you muttered softly.

He turned his head to you with a serious expression, watching how you peacefully traced the pieces of his metal limb. He remained silent but passed and arm around your shoulders, holding you closer. You silently accommodated your head on top of his chest, letting his hand caress your face while your arms still clasped his claw.

"Thanks, for everything" he finally whispered, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you, you smiled softly and reciprocated his gentle love.

"Uhm... I know you like my actuators but, please, let it go -I can feel them and you're really turning me on with all those pettings"

"Oops, sorry. My bad." you snorted as you let his artificial limb free, which chirped sadly but moved away from you to return with the others.

"Although can't believe you have energy for another round, old man"

He ignored your comment and only bothered to roll his eyes. You remained silent and after a few minutes of him playing with your hair and you drawing circles on his chest, an idea popped I your mind and you were eager to share it.

"So" you started hesitantly, breaking the silent atmosphere "You wanna eat out of something? Unless you already have a date with spiderman, or the lab, of course" you said without looking at him. "I think my plan of helping you relax has succeed, so I declare you a free man now."

"I guess I could take the entire day off, did you have something on mind?"

Your face light up and you were fast to nod at his question "Well, since I can't go to a restaurant with my dear boyfriend because he is the most wanted villain in all of the United States and he has, you know, four gigantic metallic claws on his back" You started, earning a roll of eyes and a frown of his brow, "what do you think about a roof date?" You finally looked at him, your eyes shining like little pleading suns.

He just couldn't resist that sight and you knew it too well. Also, he had to admit that it had been a while since you guys got out and the idea of relaxing with you on top of a skyscraper, covered by bright stars, laying on some soft blanket while eating something or just chatting was really something tempting.

"I like the idea. You can go get ready as I go to buy some food, any preference?"

You immediately jumped off the bed and glared at him. You poked his chest "Don't even think of crossing that door before I come back to pick you up, old man. This is your relaxing day and you're not allowed to set foot outside unless it's for a relaxing purpose."

He pinched the bridge of his nose in defeat as he sighed deeply. "Alright, just stop speaking so loud already, boy -you're going to give me a headache"

You giggled and softly kissed his nose before heading out of the bedroom, "I've left your favourite shampoo next to the shower! Also, clean clothes are folded above the drawers in the closet in case you want to use them!"

He muttered a low "thanks you" you weren't able to heard though he knew it wasn't necessary either.

It was only when Otto found himself alone on your shared bed that he felt the unpleasant sensation of a dry, sticky fluid between his legs and the before forgotten back pain. He pulled back the sheets with a disgusted face and headed to the bathroom. It was true, his favourite shampoo was laying on the sink along a yellow post it with a heart on it.

Otto took it off so it wouldn't get wet and made sure to keep it safe. He never said it but he loved your little notes, even the silly little ones with animal fun facts or terrible knock knock jokes.

He got into the shower and turned on the hot water, instantly relaxing and the contact it made with his sore skin. His claws chirped excited as they played with the drops and the soap and Otto finally felt fully peaceful at the lack of their usual, violent thoughts. Though, since he started his relationship with you, he had to admit that his actuators had calmed down and now they even had pretty thoughts about you.

However, he made sure to accept your suggestion and relaxed, trying his best to push the usual million thoughts he would have to the back of his mind. His body welcomed the sensation instantly.

After his shower he did as you said and looked in his closet, where he found the black turtleneck sweater and the dark pants he was wearing just before your...encounter. They were both clean and smelled as if cologne had been sprinkled on them. God, how long had you been awaken before him? He was getting embarrased just at the thought of you watching him sleep —something he was sure you had done more than a few times—.

He took the same sweater since he knew it was your favorite but chose another pair of pants. He wiped his small sunglasses before putting them on and made sure to give himself a quick comb. He even decided to give his actuators a little wipe so they could be all shiny and pretty.

All done! All he would need to do then was to wait for you in the living room, so he took a science magazine that was on the coffee table and gave it a look to kill some time.

-

It wasn't long until you appeared in the front door, a wide grin painted on your face as you showed him bags of snacks.

"I'm here Otto- Oh! You really are stunning" You complimented when you saw his outfit as he got up and approached you. The red that crept to his cheeks because of the unexpected compliment making him even cuter.

"Thank you..." He scratched his neck, "Are you ready to leave?"

"In a minute, I still need to get dressed up all fancy for you", you giggled and winked at him as you let him pick the bags you were carrying, "Why don't you get some blankets meanwhile? I won't be long" and so, you rushed to your room without waiting for an answer.

With the help of his actuators, Otto gathered some blankets and waited for you to return. When you did, dressed up in your favourite outfit as a sweet smell of cologne left your clothes, Otto couldn't help but blush a dark red.

You giggled softly and kissed his cheek before extending your arm and offering it for him for take, just like an old, corny couple. And so, an actuator put on him his dark fedora, that could half-hid his blush too, and you took a jacket for the night's cold.

"Shall we?" Otto asked while opening the door as his actuators beeped and screeched excitedly around. You giggled at his manners and their difference with his actuators' personality and nodded at his question, already taking a step out of the house,

"Gladly".

#otto x reader #otto x you #male reader #pet names #otto octavius x oc #otto octavius x reader #otto octavius x male reader #doc ock x oc #doc ock x reader #doc oct #doc ock #doctor octopus #soft #x mreader #x reader #marvel x male reader #marvel x reader #x you

[b1ueoff1ine]

day 6 long prompt 6? with otto?

Healing - Part 1

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Otto Octavius FanFiction

Prompt/Summary: long #6 -Life is hard, especially for a single mother, but you've made the best of it and took a new job as the secretary for a billionaire. A terrible tragedy rocks his world and you're there as a shoulder to cry on as he heals. During the healing process, however, he finds you are more important to him than he originally thought.

Warnings: Age gap.(Let me know if I missed any!)

Word count: 627

A/N: another otto fic for day 6 WOO WOO also flashbacks are in italics and D/N is daughter's name and y/n is his personal assistant instead of secretary

Full 14 Days Of Valentine's Collection

__

Your husband left you not too long ago for another woman. While your over him now, every time you looked at your four year old daughter you couldn't help but remember him.

It brought tears to your eyes to even think about the way he left, so you didn't do it often.

Your previous job had fired you only that morning, and you started job hunting in frustration.

You had found a job as a personal assistant for Octavius Industries, and you applied. You read the email awaiting you and cried out in joy.

"D/N, I got the job! Are you as excited as I am?"

"Yeah, of course, mama!" Your daughter exclaimed. "Do we get to have a celebratory meal for it?" She asked.

"Of course, my little princess. Only for you." You smiled. But looking at her brought flash backs. You looked back at your phone so she wouldn't see the blank expression you had on.

Your brain played flashbacks of the times when you were happiest- when you were with your ex.

You smiled as you watched Henry eat his icecream, being done with your own. "Is it good?" You asked him.

"Delicious." He smiled back.

You turned of your phone and put your phone on the counter. You needed to forget him. But it was hard being a single parent, knowing he should have been there for his daughter when you weren't.

You made dinner, tucked D/N in bed, then hopped in your own bed and went to sleep.

The next morning, you got ready for work. It was your first day, and didn't want to mess up. But of course, something had to go wrong. As you entered at the front entrance to the Octavius Industries building, someone bumped into you and spilled their coffee all over your blouse.

"Shoot! I am so sorry. Let me go grab you a shirt." They said.

"No, no, it's fine. I brought an extra pair of clothes." Thank goodness you did. The coffee scent was still going to bother you all day, though.

"If you're sure."

"Oh, it's fine. I always come prepared." You smiled at them.

The returned your smile and continued out the door, steering clear of the coffee splatter on the floor.

You checked in with the secretary, then headed up the stairs towards Dr. Octavius's office.

You had to pass through the labs in order to get there, and saw you all sorts of projects. But you didnt pay attention to them, and kept walking.

When you reached Dr. Octavius's office, you knocked and waited.

Moments later, the door opened and Dr. Octavius stepped out.

"Morning, miss. You must be Ms. L/N, my new assistant."

"Yes, sir. I am." You offered your hand.

Dr. Octavius took your hand and shook it. Only then did you notice the actuators on his back.

But you payed no attention to them and asked, "What should I do first?"

"Eager to get to work, are you?" Dr. Octavius laughed.

You nodded.

"Well, just get to know everyone today. It's your first day, we dont want you to over work yourself on things you dont know yet." Dr. Octavius dismissed you.

The rest of the day was a breeze. You met and shook hands with every person you could, asking what they were working on and you told them your thoughts on it. You were honest with everyone, a trait that was rare to see these days.

But you were glad when you got off the bus near your apartment complex. You entered your apartment and went to the kitchen.

You heated leftovers and ate, then tucked D/N in again and went to sleep, hoping to actually do something the next day.

__

Imma make another part, anyone up for being tagged?

#fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #otto x reader #otto octavius x reader #doctor otto octavius #otto octavius #dr otto octavius #otto x you #otto octavius x you #doc ock #doc ock x reader #doctor octavius #doctor octopus #doc ock x you

[neverendingdumptser]

Like I’m screaming and throwing up. Are you kidding me.

#alicent hightower #house of the dragon #rhaenicent #rhaenyra x alicent #olivia cooke #emily carey #game of thrones #Otto when I catch you Otto

[thewriterwithnoplan]

THE HIGHEST TOWER (1/2)

Summary: As a Princess of the Realm the chance to escape political marriage and abscond with your Promised was beyond anything you could wish for. When the time is right, your dragon will lead you to them and your mother will support your union. In return, you must do all you can to protect her claim, even if you must do so from within the very heart of the Greens.

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader (eventual), Aemond Targaryen x Reader (mentioned)

Word Count: 4296

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, just general character awfulness, some espionage, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd.

Masterlist

You had lived the better part of eight and ten years in the Red Keep. The daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen handed off to the Queen like some paltry trinket. The King’s first and final word on the matter of his granddaughter. Thrust carelessly into Alicent’s care at the fresh age of ten, a peace offering and a trade for Lucerys’ life. You scarcely remembered life beyond the borders of the castle. Only that one moment your brother's life had been under threat and the next yours was all but forfeit.

Your mother had clasped the back of your neck, pulled you toward her and begged her father for mercy. You who had not even been in the room when Aemond had lost his eye, lost to your own midnight flight atop dragon back. And then the curtain of Rhaneyra’s hair parted, and from over her shoulder Daemon met your eyes. For a single poignant moment, he stared and then a smirk broke across his face as if he knew.

Knew that you were not the innocent that your mother would have the King believe you to be. Knew that your midnight rendezvous with your dragon at the exact moment of Vhagar’s claiming was not mere coincidence. Your intentions had been innocent at first. A trip to the kitchen for a cup of milk which you would warm on the stove – a feat the late Sir Harwin Strong had taught you. Past your brothers’ room, your mother’s room, the servants' quarters and a balcony overlooking the beach. And then you had seen him. Aemond scaling your cousin’s dragon. And that just wouldn’t do.

Targaryens – true Targaryens who did not cower under the cover of darkness – needed their dragons if they had any hope of finding their Promised. Your cousin, Baela who always shared her sweets and let you borrow her wooden sword, deserved the chance to meet her Promised in the wake of her mother’s death. The man or woman that Vhagar would lead her to when the Old Gods saw fit. In the game of thrones when Targearyens already found so few chances for happiness, how could Aemond strip his cousin of her chance at true love? True, as an eldest daughter Baela’s future husband was most certainly decided – likely one of your brothers. But you were certain that Jacaerys or Lucerys would be understanding and gracious when the time came for Baela to claim her Promised, as she would be when the time came for her Lord-Husband. Such was the way of things. At least for the lucky.

Imagining your dragon, Laesuvion, claimed by another and leaving you with no guide to your Gods-given Promised made you feel ill. And so, you set out on bare, hurried feet to find and mount Laesuvion. You were a Targaryen born of the blood of dragons, of true Valyrian features. Vhagar was your cousin’s dragon by right and it was your duty to protect that claim. She was a formidable, indomitable beast but shackled with a new rider on his first flight. If you had one chance to disrupt the yet fragile bond being formed by dragon and rider, it was to dislodge the green boy and send him toppling toward the sea.

Laesuvion had hatched for you in your cradle. He was much younger and smaller than Vhagar but all the faster. It would be no trouble to fell your traitorous cousin. The difficulty became disguising the shock of white scales along the elongated arch of Laesuvion’s neck whilst searching for Vhagar’s camouflaged breadth.

“Aderī Laesuvion. Dokimarvose.” (Quickly Laesuvion. Focus.) You urged him.

Despite your efforts, you only caught sight of them twice. Once among the clouds, though you were sure Aemond got a greater view of you than you did him. And again, as Vhagar was returning to land Driftmark. Your hunt had been unsuccessful. But you had been sure no one would suspect you of such vengeful intent toward your uncle. Except perhaps Daemon.

“It is a fair price, Rhaenyra,” Daemon’s smirk was cunning, “They will not harm her.”

The betrayal on your mother's face heated your blood. How dare he tell her what to do? Your mother, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the iron throne. This man who was no one, husband of no one, Prince of nowhere, heir of nothing. Who was he to command your mother? And now, to step toward you and attempt to pry you away from her. So close you could almost-

Almost hear the two of them whispering. To each other. To you.

“Think.” Daemon hissed, “They will demand her for Aemond sooner or later.”

“She is my only daughter.”

“She will still be your daughter in the Red Keep.” He kept up the pretence of fighting your mother, despite her arms having gone lax around you. “Not a bastard. Not a bargaining chip. Your daughter. At the heart of the greens.”

“She is a child.”

“A Targaryen child.”

“She is my child.”

“Then let her prove it.”

“Mother,” You warbled. “I don’t want to go.”

“Tala.” Daemon shifted, and his eyes met yours again as if you should know this word. You did not. “You will go. Make your mother proud. Learn at court. Find those who support her claim and those who will side with the Hightowers. You are weak and a girl, they will not suspect you. When the time comes you will be our most valuable weapon.”

“But I want to go home, Kepa.” (Father or paternal uncle)

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Rhaenyra held your face and brushed away your tears. “You will.”

“’Nyra.” Daemon warned.

“But not today.” She kissed each of your cheeks. “Today you must be strong for me. You must be strong for your brothers. You must do as Daemon says, we must keep them happy.”

And then your mother pulled you toward her firmly, pressed her lips to your ear and whispered a promise. A reward should you embark on this mission. Beyond sweets and silk dresses and extra time on Laesuvion. Beyond anything you had ever been promised or ever dreamed of asking for. Do this for your mother and she would exempt you from the chains of political marriage that would shackle each of your brothers. There was no guarantee you would be lucky like your brothers, married to one who would understand. But do this and you could have your Promised under the eyes of the Seven, the Old Gods, and the traditions of old Valyria itself. Even at 10, you knew that for a Princess and a second-born, there was no greater boon.

So, you did what you had to do for your one shot to truly be with your Promised. You squared your shoulders, kissed your mother's cheek, and stumbled toward Queen Alicent. She gripped you by the shoulder, tucked you into the folds of her skirt, and stared cruelly down her nose at your mother.

“Now I will have no more fighting.” Said the King and having satisfied his wife for the first time in their long marriage, he ambled off to bed.

As the crowd dispersed, Sir Criston Cole flanked the Queen and as a unit, the three of you marched from the room. Your mother, scarcely held together in Daemon’s embrace, gave one last warbling cry as you passed the threshold and disappeared, not to be seen again for nine long years.

You were kept that night in the Queen’s own quarters to thwart rescue or escape. Behind a bolted door and no less than three kings’ guards. And yet, that morning, upon waking with puffy eyes from silent tears and aching limbs from the harsh sitting room sofa, you found something that had not been there before.

A gift from Daemond, most assuredly, tucked under the pillow you had slept on. The handle was perhaps an inch too long for your small age, but the blade was curved and wicked sharp and would require little finesse to cause harm. Inlaid in the pommel was a single ruby, the size of your thumb and wonderfully smooth. Carved into the cross-guard flowing Valyrian script read valar morghūlis. (All men must die.)

You would call the dagger gaomilaksir, duty. You would carry it as a reminder of the promises you and your mother had made one another. One day, as Daemon had said, you would become her greatest weapon.

There had been few bright spots in your life as the Queen’s ward. So, few in fact, that you could count them on one hand.

One.

You could not fly. Such a thing would only encourage escape back to Dragonstone and your mother. But you could visit Laesuvion and watch him sweep through the clouds. He had grown much in your teenage years. Still lithe in build and elegant in frame, but more angular like an arrow strung tight. He did not take to Kings Landing, not in all your years trapped there. So used to the comfort of Dragonstone and your family’s own dragons, he often abandoned the Dragonpit entirely. Kept tethered to the Keep by your presence alone.

“Where is Laesuvion?” You were just shy of ten and two when you approached the Dragonkeeper Acolyte.

“Hunting, my lady.” He knocked his quarterstaff against the ground. “He flew north not three hours ago.”

“Do you not offer him food?”

The keeper lowered his head, “He refuses it, my lady.”

“Offer him better.”

“We give him our very best, lady. He is a magnificent but stubborn creature.”

“He is a dragon, not a creature.” You conjured up a playful grin. “And I am a princess, not a lady.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” The Acolyte blustered, “Shall I inform you upon his return?”

“That won’t be necessary,” You strode to his side and plunked yourself down to lean against the stone entrance. “I shall wait for his return here.”

And so, you did. Silently, for the better part of twenty minutes as the Acolyte threw furtive glances your way.

Until finally, “Truly, my lady. Your Highness. He could be hours still.”

Wonderful. You thought and cast a dazzling grin up at him. “Perhaps you ought to keep me better company then.”

And so, you began your mission. You charm the Dragonkeepers – Acolyte and Elder, all seventy-seven of them – who knew the princes and their dragons, their strengths and weaknesses. You befriend the maids, the scullery, the wet nurses, and the servants they bunk with. Piece by piece, inch by inch, you win back your mother's share of Kings Landing.

Two.

Strange though she was, your Aunt Heleana always welcomed you into her chambers. In your shared youth, she always had a critter clutched between her hands as if it were the most precious thing she owned. You are four and ten, a year younger than your aunt when she is forced to split her time between her menagerie of insects and the chubby masses of her twin babes.

“The young prince has lungs,” You smiled at Heleana as the wet nurse rocked a wailing Jaehaerys. “He will make glorious speeches when he is grown.”

“Only one.” She examined the creature in her hands. Today she favoured a centipede, passing Jaehaera onto you.

You had long since learned to ignore her ramblings, “The sweet Princess must be the wordsmith, then.”

“The fourth in an age.” Heleana startled as if only just noticing your presence. “Apologies, Hāedar. You wished to speak?” (Younger female sibling or cousin)

“No apologies necessary, Mandia.” (Older female sibling or cousin). The Valyrian word tasted foul. You had your own siblings on Dragonstone, those whom you had been stolen from and those whom you had yet to meet. But Heleana liked it when you pretended that you were not a prisoner, that you were her mother’s daughter and not her forcibly attained ward. And so you swallowed it with a smile, “Might we talk privately?”

Heleana startled again as she turned to the wet nurse. “Take the children to the nursery, Bria.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Bria gave an awkward curtsy, shuffled the still-wailing Jaehaerys to one side and received Jaehaera from your arms. Heleana turned to you expectantly as the trio disappeared through a side door.

“It is a sensitive matter I am afraid,” You eyed the centipede as it escaped her hands and crawled across her skirts. “I do not wish to cause offence.”

Heleana’s eyes pinched at the corners, “It is not such a terrible burden – to be a wife. Mostly he ignores you.”

“You misunderstand me,” You hurried. “I only wished to speak of your grandfather.”

“Not my brother?”

“Do you wish to speak of your husband?”

“No,” Heleana gave you a quizzical look. “I speak of Aemond, who will be your husband.”

“Aemond?” Your uncle who’s selfishness had trapped you here. One of Alicent’s precious children married to her living doll. The thought would have been hysterical were it not so frightening. Surely not.

“It is the natural progression of things. I was given to Aegon and now you to Aemond.” Heleana’s attention returned to the centipede. “One pairing to strengthen our house, another to mend its bonds. So says grandfather.”

“Oh Mandia. I am entrusted to your mother. There need be no marriage to bring me into the fold. We are family.” 

“Yes. So says mother.” Heleana stared. Not so blind as she seemed. “But grandfather always gets what he wants.”

And so, you are four years into your mission, having sat patiently by the Queen's side. Having listened and learned and noted those your mother can count on. Four years in and the time to begin quietly making moves had arrived with a head start from your oblivious Aunt.

But then you see the centipede crawl from her hands again and writhe across her skirt. And you think maybe Heleana’s warnings have more to do with where the critter is trying to lead her than it has to do with you.

Three.

It took you longer than you would like to admit to worm your way into Otto Hightower’s confidences – if there were such a thing.

You had quickly learned in your first year at the Keep that Alicent feared her father, distrustful of his greed and power lust. Not much unlike yourself, she had been sent into the greedy hands of a different house in pursuit of the Iron Throne. Were Otto not so blinded by his ambitions you might have begun to worry that Daemon’s strategy might ring familiar. But Lord Hightower’s strength was also his greatest weakness. So careful in his scheming, gently coaxing his will unto others, moving his pawns about the board, sacrificing all but himself, he could not see his tactics turned against him. Beyond your connection to Rhaenyra, you barely registered as a piece in the game.

Daemon had been right. Weak and a girl and not a threat. Not yet.

So, you worked tirelessly to endear yourself to Alicent. Just as you learned from her, you began to teach in turn. When you are in the room Otto Hightower dares not spin his lies about succession. When you appear around corners in search of your Queen-mother talk of hastening the king's condition ceases. When you are near, Alicent is safe. She begins to wear you like the expensive accessory you are, a decorative shield.

Hours trailing your Queen-mother to and from meetings of the small council, waiting patiently at her side as she sat in place of the King. Serving wine to fat and foolish lords.

And then finally, on the eve of your ten and fifth nameday, the Queen brings you along to the Hand's Tower.

“Father.” She greets.

“Alicent,” Otto brings you to his office, where a tea set for two lays steaming. “I see you have brought your shadow.”

The Queen barely glances your way as you serve her tea and then her father’s, before retreating to stand at her shoulder. She glares across her father’s desk, “This does concern her.”

“She is approaching her fifteenth year, two since her first blood. Time has well arrived for her to marry,” He stares directly at you then, “Have you any fondness for your uncle, Princess?”

“My lord, the Princes and I are often kept busy by our duties.” Your friends among the servants have divulged their schedules. You stay firmly away from drunken Aegon and selfish Aemond, remaining civil only with young Daeron.

“You must see reason.” Alicent implores her father. “They hold no affection for one another. Aegon and Heleana have already wed in the name of strengthening our family. To marry her would serve only to anger Rhaenyra.”

“And to bind her eldest daughter to us.” Interesting that he would say so openly in front of you. Perhaps you have been more effective in playing a Green than you had thought. “Aemond will be a good husband to her.”

“I have no doubt,” Alicent says and as silence stretches you suspect she is losing conviction; you have not saved her this time.

You clear your throat delicately, “If I may?”

“Of course, sweet pet.” Alicent reaches out to fuss with your hair. She likes it long and keeps its length to your hip despite how cumbersome it can be. Short hair is unbecoming, she claims.

You look to Otto in false deference, “My lord?”

“Very well.”

“I think,” You begin carefully. “Aemond and I may be of better use to you.”

“And how might that be?” He is condescending but you have his attention.

“When the time comes that grandsire passes on, I suspect the lords of the realm will need cause to back a claim to the Iron Throne. My Septa says that peace such as we have seen under his rule may bring unrest. I do not doubt that Aemond will make a fine and just husband. All I mean is that mayhaps it would be wise to keep us unwed until we may serve a greater purpose.”

No mention of your mother nor their ill-begotten plan for Aegon. Hightower's methods played against him.

“And when the time comes you will do this?” He demands.

“It is my duty to my house.”

He tilts his head as a predatory bird might. “You must swear it, to myself and to your Queen, upon your young brothers.”

To pause would mislay your ruse. To hesitate would be to sign your life away to Aemond Targaryen.

“I swear it, upon the lives of my brothers.”

He considered you for a moment, and then his daughter.

“You have done well with her, Alicent.” Your Queen-mother sighs as Otto Hightower stands. “Enjoy your tea, I have matters to attend to elsewhere. Perhaps you will be of more use than we originally suspected, Princess.”

Your first true victory. You will not be shackled to the Keep; you will be kept safe until your mother comes for you. Until such a time that you and Laesuvion can seek out your Promised.

Four.

The Queen held a strange fondness for you. Platinum-haired and purple-eyed, the spitting image of the Realm’s delight and perhaps the only trueborn among your siblings. She took pains to brush and braid your hair, dress you in green and flout you at court. Her perfect tamed Targaryen. Who would eat from her hand, take tea by her side, sit prim and silent as her Queen-mother decorated her. You were her walking-talking glimmering triumph over Rhaenyra.

At ten, Alicent’s obsession stole you from your mother. At ten and four, it protected you from a hasty marriage. And now, at ten and eight, it was your path to freedom.

“Mother?”

Oh, how Alicent loved it when you called her that. One more thing ripped from Rhaenyra’s thieving hands. Alicent pushed into your room with a tired facsimile of a smile and took the seat across from you by the roaring hearth.  

“My sweet pet.” She was dressed head to toe in full regalia. “I am so sorry to have missed you today.”

You tucked a piece of scrap paper into the book you had been reading, buying yourself time to school your features into innocent confusion. “As am I. My door has been locked. I am sorry I could not come to you.”

“A precaution – one that I fought.” Alicent reached for your hair, running her fingers through its length. “But we cannot trust you to betray your mother. Regardless of the years you have spent in our care.”

“I do not understand, mother.” But you do.

“Your grandsire is dead.”

You close your eyes, “Aegon is king.”

“Yes.”

“You did not wish for this.”

“I wish Viserys were still a living corpse. That he would outlive us all so that none could claim his cursed throne. Not Aegon. Not Rhaenyra. Not my father.”

“That is not a solution.”

She tugs at your hair harshly, “Foolish pet, there is none.”

You blink harshly. Your eyes scarcely holding back tears. For the first time since you left your mother's embrace, you are truly scared. No longer are you the meek girl who walks in the Queen’s shadow. Given liberties and protection in a twisted echo of her love for Rhaenyra. You are a living embodiment of what House Targaryen will be to House Hightower. A pretty little puppet kept from your dragon, cloistered away like some trophy, scrambling for a scrap of power to delude yourself that you have some control.

“What is to become of our house?” You whisper.

“Your mother and Prince Daemon remain on Dragonstone. No blood has yet been shed.” Alicent brushed your hair softly behind one ear. “We have sent Aemond to Storm’s End to do as you once suggested. To offer himself to one of the Baratheon girls, that Lord Borros might see reason and acknowledge Aegon as rightful King.”

Good, there were those beyond the Keep who remained steadfast and loyal. It was time to return to your mother, then. To tell her all you had learned these last eight years. To name her allies and set Daemon loose upon her foes. Now was the time.

“What of my brothers?”

Alicent leant back, “Scouts have spotted Vermax flying north likely as an envoy to rally support among the lords.”

“How could they have mobilized so quickly? Was Aegon not crowned mere hours ago?”

“He was, indeed.” Alicent’s gazed into the fire. “The Lady Rhaenys was not so welcoming of solitude as you have been.”

“She has gone to Dragonstone?”

“She has.”

“And no one has come for me?”

“They have not.”

For a moment you each stared listlessly into the hearth. When Alicent shifts back to face you, she has a letter clutched in her hand. It is crisp and of fine quality but most strikingly, stamped with the King’s seal.

“I am under no delusions,” Alicent says softly, mournfully. “You can no more contest your mother's claim than I can Aegon’s. We are matching pieces in this game, I think.”

Your fear swells, “Mother.”

“Please, my sweet girl.” She smooths the hair atop your head. “You must do me one last favour as my ward.”

“I don’t understand.”

She presses the letter into your hands. “Jacaerys will fly first to the Vale, to treat with House Arryn and then to Winterfell. You will take this and beat him there. You will do as you swore to do those years ago.”

“I ca–”

“Listen!” She jerked you by your shoulders. “You must listen. You will wed Lord Stark. He is as fine a match as any. The north is loyal to Rhaenyra and will remain steadfast, you will be well treated. You must go, with this missive from the King, his final wish to send you north to snow and safety. In return for your hand, they will take no part in the fighting, they will protect you as their own, until such a time that the victor is crowned. Do you understand me, pet?”

“The King never cared for me.” You said foolishly.

“And yet, with his dying breath, he spoke of you and of Aegon. That you would carry his legacy, that you would see out his dream to the North. That Prince Aegon was Promised to this kingdom. You must believe me. You must do this for your grandsire.”

“I do believe you mother.” She was deluded. “I will do what must be done.”

Alicent has offered you one gilded cage for another. You will not be fool enough to fall into this one. You will find Laesuvion and be gone in the dead of night. You tuck the King’s missive into your book and smile at the Queen.

“Shall we call for tea, mother? You have much to tell me. I hear I have missed a coronation.”

Five.

You shape your fifth and final joy as the Queen Alicent’s Ward whilst escaping her clutches. You take three sharp detours on your path to the Dragonpit. First, to the chamber of the small council where you snatch the King's ball of quartz, you will make a gift of this to your mother. Then to the creche where the Keeper’s turned a blind eye as you pilfered three precious Dragon eggs. Finally, you find yourself ascending the steps of the Lord Hand’s Tower. To take the Dowager Queen from the Greens would be the greatest gift to your mother and her cause. But Alicent, despite her many faults, had been as kind to you as one might be toward a favourite pet. And so you do as a pet would – you do not bite the hand that fed you. Instead, you do both your Queen-mother and the woman that birthed you, a favour. You find Otto Hightower asleep in his study and you pass onto him your final gift from Daemon Targaryen.

You leave gaomilaksir in the heart of Hightower as you flee north, your duty complete.

(Part 2 : The Winter Keep)

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #queen alicent #alicent hightower #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #otto hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen

[maidragoste]

was your meme w the daemon au about the oneshot where she married him to avoid marrying viserys? because i would LOVE to know how people reacted when daemon (i assume it would be daemon) sends a message to viserys - 🩵

Hi Anon 💖, sorry for the delay in responding but I was actually writing something totally different but I saw your question and Viserys' reaction came to mind so I started writing haha

btw, I thought this would be shorter

I hope you enjoy it 🥰🥰💖💖

I recommend people read "The Decision" first to better understand this

At first, when barely an hour had passed since you had disappeared on the back of your dragon, your family had not worried, thinking that perhaps you had lost track of time while flying. It wouldn't be the first time that happens. But then it got dark and you still didn't show up. The worst thing was that Viserys wanted to dine with you in his chambers. Corlys excused your absence by sending your maid to tell the King that you were feeling ill. Rhaenys was furious with her husband for not telling Viserys that you were missing, if the king asked for it then everyone would look for you but Corlys didn't seem to care about your safety, he seemed more worried that Viserys would think that you had escaped to avoid marrying him. Of course, your father couldn't hide your absence for long. Somehow Otto Hightower had found out about your disappearance and reported it to the king.

The next day the entire council was gathered and the king's fury at having been kept secret from the disappearance of his fiancée was evident. Rhaenyra listened worriedly as her father asked Lord Velaryon for explanations. She feared that you had made a drastic decision to run away, her heart ached just thinking that you had left without saying goodbye first.

Corlys didn't even have the chance to excuse himself and make up some story about actually knowing your whereabouts when a maester interrupted the room. The Grand Master was already about to scold him when the youngest reported that a letter had arrived with the seal of House Targaryen. Viserys instantly ordered the parchment to be given to him, knowing that it must be a letter from his brother.

Everyone watched in silence as the king's face became redder and redder as he read the parchment. “Daemon took her as his second wife,” he announced as he twisted the letter into a bun in annoyance.

Rhaenyra felt her heart skip a beat and had to hold onto the table to keep from losing her balance. You were supposed to run away or find a way to break off the engagement, not get married. The worst thing is that you married her uncle. It was unfair that he could have you but she couldn't. If only she had been brave enough to tell you how she felt but she was a coward and she settled for your friendship. She settled for pretending that you were hers every time the two of you walked hand in hand through the hallways or when she exchanged her rings with yours as if it were some declaration of love.

“Poor Lady Y/n, Prince Daemon surely took advantage of her,” said the king's hand with mock regret. Corlys was not blind like Viserys so he could see how Otto Hightower was forcing himself not to smile. He should be the only attempt with this situation, now with you out of the way he could push his daughter Alicent again so that she could get the king's attention and thus make her queen.

“You can annul their marriage,” said the princess, drawing everyone's attention to the obvious desperation and pain in her voice. Years later, different versions of the reason for Rhaenyra's despair circulated in history books. Some would say it was because she was in love with her uncle. Others would say that you were actually the owner of her affections.

“The king can no longer marry Lady Y/n. Not now that Prince Daemon…”Lyonel Strong trailed off, trying to think of a not-so-shocking word to finish with.

“He ruined her,” Otto continued.

“You're talking about my daughter, watch your mouth!” Corlys demanded furiously, hitting his palm against the table. Lyonel had wanted to avoid exactly this.

Rhaenyra also glared at the king's hand. She hated that he had used that word to describe you but I can't help but think that maybe it was better that the lords thought that of you because then they wouldn't want to marry you. Her father would annul your marriage, you would come home to her and she would never have to worry about someone else trying to steal you from her.

“They married under Valyrian customs. It may not be valid in the eyes of faith but in my eyes, it is” declared the king. Besides, he wasn't going to annul your marriage and then marry you. It would be humiliating. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life with a wife who didn't love him. You had made it more than clear in the letter. He couldn't be mad at you, not when you had apologized for not telling him how you really felt sooner, had told him that you appreciated him but couldn't imagine loving him the way you love his brother, and that you thought he deserved a wife who truly loved him. Still, he was furious with his brother because he had taken advantage of you, it didn't matter that in the letter you said that Daemon didn't force you into anything and that it was your decision to marry, Viserys was sure that Daemon didn't love you, that he had only taken you as a wife to annoy him, as revenge for making Rhaenyra his heir.

“I am very sorry for my daughter's actions, your Grace,” Corlys apologized almost through his teeth. He was furious with Viserys for being so weak. Another man would have instantly annulled the marriage and gone to find his bride but he was not surprised by the king's attitude considering that he had been more interested in planning the wedding than in putting an action plan for the situation that was occurring on the Stepstones

He was so furious with you too. If before Viserys was not interested in the Stepstones, now with you breaking your engagement even less so. He couldn't believe you did this to him. He thought he raised you better. You could have made the Velaryons go down in history by giving the king a son but you ruined everything.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

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#daemon's wife!au! #thanks for the ask! #ask me anything #anon <3 #anon ask #anon 🩵 #hotd x reader #daemon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra x you #daemon x you #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #viserys targaryen #king viserys #corlys velaryon #otto hightower #hotd imagine #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #velaryon reader

[valeskafics]

"Second Chance" - Otto Hightower x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: Otto Hightower is surprised at how much you have changed upon your return to the Red Keep.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, purity/innocence kink, older man/younger woman, oral f receiving, fingering, loss of virginity, p in v sex, breeding kink, heavy overstim, choking

Word Count: 3,785 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

Lord Otto Hightower can almost feel his blood pressure rising when he learns that you will be returning to the Red Keep on the morrow. Prince Daemon’s troublesome twin, sent on a marriage tour to find a husband which ended with little success after you managed to insult every single potential suitor. You were always a willful creature, he recalls, too mischievous for your own good. But there was an inherent kindness to you, something that differentiated you from your twin. More than once, Otto had seen you playing with little Rhaenyra and Alicent, thinking to himself how you would likely make a wonderful mother one day.

The last time he saw you, he remembers thinking how beautiful you’d become. You were twenty then, leaving for your unsuccessful tour, scowling as your brothers bade you farewell. He remembers the little grin you gave him as you curtsied and said your goodbyes to him, that dulcet voice of yours promising that you would be back soon to bother him and cause mischief, earning a rueful smile from the older man.

And now, here you are. More beautiful than ever before. Your hair is longer now, he notes as you approach him, something more mature about the air you carry yourself with. You were called back after Viserys’ coronation, all too happy to end your tour early. You greet him with a sweet smile and a curtsy, your voice like honey in his ears when you speak.

“My lord hand. How wonderful to see you.”

The Diamond of the Realm. That is what you are known as. It is a fitting title, he thinks, as he admires the way your eyes shine, your smile, everything about you. He feels as if he cannot move, he cannot speak. Words do not do your beauty justice. There is a glow about you, one that has bewitched him entirely. Seven Hells, he thinks he might even be blushing.

He quickly bows, greeting you, “The pleasure is mine, Your Grace. How are you?”

“I am well, my lord,” you say, “It has been some time since I saw you last. I was very sorry to hear about your lady wife’s passing. It has been two years now, yes? I apologize for not being able to condole with you properly.”

Otto realizes that this is the first time in a very long time that he doesn’t feel the heavy weight of his grief hanging over him. His love for his wife still goes on, but the pain feels a bit easier to handle when you look at him with that soft gaze. He realizes he has been silent for a moment too long and clears his throat.

“Yes, my princess. It has been two years now. The pain never truly leaves me, but I live on for her. It does little good to dwell on it.”

Why is he talking about this with you? Why does conversation come so easily? Gods, your lips, how your eyes sparkle… He must push these thoughts from his mind. You are a princess and he is your brother’s most trusted advisor.

You nod in understanding, giving him a gentle smile, “My father was much the same when my lady mother passed. Grief never truly leaves us. It simply becomes easier to manage.”

He cannot comprehend this pull he feels toward you. He is drawn to you, like an animal in heat. Why can he look nowhere other than upon your beautiful face? Have the Seven cursed him with lust to punish him for some reason?

“You are wise beyond your years, Princess,” Otto replies, his voice a bit lower and more gruff than usual.

“How are your children?” you ask politely, “Little Gwayne and Alicent.”

You ask after his children. But he cannot stop thinking about how soft your skin must be, how he longs to rest his hand upon your cheek and touch you. Why does he want that which he cannot have? He must resist this. He must resist imagining holding you in his arms, your body soft and warm against his as he cradles you in his embrace.

“They are well, my lady. Alicent remains a kind girl and Gwayne has voiced his fervent desire to be a knight.”

You laugh softly, the sound sending a shiver up and down his spine as you say that you are sure Gwayne will make a wonderful knight, that he will be competing in tourneys and winning jousts in no time. He can barely comprehend your words. Not when he can smell your intoxicating scent, not when he wishes to melt when you so much as smile his way. You are the epitome of grace, he thinks.

“My lord,” you pause before speaking once more, “There is a matter of some urgency I wish to discuss with you if you have the time.”

How could he ever imagine saying no to you? How could he ever deny you anything when you speak in that sweet voice, when you look at him with those enchanting eyes? The way you call him my lord makes his cock stiffen in his breeches, something he is not proud of, but he cannot control himself.

“What is the matter, my lady?”

Your voice is a soft whisper, one he has to lean in to hear, “Is it true that our king wishes to betroth me to Daemon? Is that why I have been called back?”

Daemon. Gods, the name sends a spike of rage through him. He regards you for a moment, basking in your presence, imagining what it would be like to love you, to call you his wife.

Otto nods slowly, lips set in a firm line, showing his distaste for the match, “Yes, my princess. That is the king’s wish. He believes it will solidify the power of your house.”

You gaze up at him through your long lashes, head tilted to the side as you reply, “I do not wish to marry my own brother. I truly do not believe an incestuous marriage will contribute to the stability of the realm. Would it not be more politically sound to marry us into different houses to secure key alliances?”

He has no will of his own when he looks at you, his body betraying him, every fiber of his being screaming at him to reach out and touch you. What is this spell you have cast upon him, temptress that you are? The fire in his loins flares, but he must restrain himself and act in the best interest of the realm.

“You are most right, Princess. I could not agree more strongly. I have brought it to your brother’s attention, but he is not keen to change the proposed match.”

“Would it not be more prudent to send Daemon to the Vale?” you suggest, taking a small step closer to Otto, “Perhaps to marry Lady Rhea Royce? She is of age, I hear, and her family seeks a match for her.”

You are like a siren, he thinks, the sweetest of creatures and he is frozen in place, unable to do anything but stand there and be entranced by your every word. His gaze flickers to the curve of your breasts, your cleavage visible above the bodice of your gown, but looks away as quickly as he begins, clearing his throat.

“That would indeed be prudent, Princess. I will put the idea forward to His Majesty.”

“And who do you think would make a suitable groom for me?” you ask sweetly, gazing up at him, “I should like an older gentleman, I believe. I find maturity to be lacking in boys my age, at least that is what I experienced on my tour.”

And there you go again, gazing up at him in a way that has him weak in the knees. He is entirely enamored. Gods, the way you look at him makes his blood boil under his skin with desire.

“It seems I have lost my train of thought,” Otto breathes, “My lady, yes… Maturity. That is what you need. Someone more experienced.”

“If he had children from a previous marriage, I would not mind that either,” you say thoughtfully, “Some ladies would, but I adore children. I would gladly welcome my husband having them.”

You want an older man. An older man with children from a previous relationship. He can be that man for you. He needs to be that man for you.

“Children are precious to have,” he says quietly, “Gwayne and Alicent give me more happiness than I can put in words.”

“I can only imagine,” you smile softly, “I think I should like to marry a gentleman from the Reach. It would be a politically sound decision to secure the loyalty of that region. What are your thoughts, my lord?”

He is so close to you that he could just lean over and kiss you, but he does not. He cannot.

“Yes, that would be wise. Some say that we have not done enough to bring about alliances with the Reach. I shall bring this idea up with the king,” he pauses before taking your soft, delicate hands in his, squeezing gently as he promises, “I will fight for the best match for you, my princess.”

That is when he sees that mischievous glint in your eyes, the one he realizes that he has quite missed in your time away, “House Hightower is indeed part of the Reach, my lady. We are an old and noble house.” Otto looks at you, standing there and feigning innocence, pretending you don’t know what you do to him, and blurts out, “I know a member of House Hightower. I believe he meets your qualifications.”

“Do you?” you ask, taking another step toward him, smiling slightly at his sharp intake of breath, “What is his name, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

Why do you torture him so? He wants you, he must have you. He must be your man, your husband. 

It is as though he loses the ability to speak when you rest your hand on his chest, batting those lashes of yours as you whisper, “Would it happen to be you, my lord?”

He swallows thickly and nods, “Yes. I… Why do you tease me like this, my princess? Do you want me as I want you? You are so young and beautiful and I… I am…”

“Mature,” you murmur, “Handsome. Everything I ever wanted in a husband.”

“Princess,” he whispers, unable to believe that this is truly how you feel - that you want him.

You gaze up at him, your noses touching, chests pressed against each other’s, your sweet breath fanning against his lips.

“You are still in your prime, Lord Hightower,” you say in that honeyed voice of yours, “And I am a young flower. Ready to be seeded. I can think of no better match.” He cannot resist you. And he doesn’t want to. “You are my brother’s most trusted friend. Why should he not trust you with the virtue and care of his sweet sister?” His breath hitches as you rest a hand on his cheek, “You are a more honorable man than Daemon, whom he wished me to wed.” Your voice is breathy as you continue, “And I would prefer that a more practiced man be the one to take my maidenhead.”

Otto’s eyes flutter shut at your touch, his hands grasping your waist tighter than before as he murmurs, “My sweet princess.”

You lean in to whisper in his ear, your lips brushing against his skin in the most tantalizing of ways, “The first time I ever touched myself, it was your name I cried when I reached my peak.”

He shivers with pleasure. Your words drive him mad with desire. His every thought revolves around you. He wants you so badly he can hardly stand it.

“I am yours to command,” he rasps.

“Then go to my brother. He promised you a reward for your service,” you bring his hands to your chest,  “Ask for me as your reward.”

He lets out a low groan as he feels your ample breasts against his palms, nodding, “I will ask him. I will have you. You will be mine.”

“I want you, my lord,” you murmur, “When I first touched myself, I imagined you between my legs, your beard tickling my thighs…” Your lips ghost along his jaw as you whisper, “My body burns for you, Otto. I wish to give myself to you as a wife gives herself to a husband. To feel you inside me. For you to breed me.”

The heat in his loins so intense that he feels as though he is on fire, wanting  nothing but your touch, to spread your legs and take what he wants. He will deny you nothing, you will be his, no matter what your brother says about it.

“Go now,” you urge, “Ask my brother for my hand. Let us be wed this very night and be one soul,” he lets out a low moan as your hand moves to palm at his cock over the fabric of his breeches, feeling how hard he is and letting out a little purr of delight, “One flesh.”

“Yes, I will…”

The two of you are indeed wed that very night. Daemon looks quite a bit put out by it as your vows are said in the sept, but neither you nor your lord husband can bring yourselves to care. Not when the bedding is so close at hand.

You come to him, dressed in naught but a sheer slip, your body still damp from the bath your maidservant gave you. Otto cannot take his eyes away from you. You are so beautiful, the very embodiment of innocence and youthful beauty. It is almost like watching an angel walk toward him. You tug at the string of your shift, allowing the fabric to fall to the floor, a small smirk on your lips. His breath catches in his throat. You are so beautiful. Your breasts, your hips, your legs, your skin… You are perfect.

“I am ready, my lord husband,” you say, standing before him in all your glory.

He can feel the heat building inside of him as you help him out of his tunic and breeches, his blood rushing to his cock, nothing on his mind but claiming you. Your body is his, now and forever. You run your hands along his bare chest, letting out a soft moan as you press your thighs together. He pulls you into his arms, laying you down on the bed that the two of you are now meant to share. He does not know if he can be gentle with you, not with that coy little smile on your face, the way you mewl like a kitten as he caresses your soft flesh. His touch grows more aggressive, his mouth finding its way to your collarbone, nibbling on your delicate skin, his beard tickling you, making you let out a soft gasp. He grasps at your hips, pressing you against him, his cock hard and heavy against your thighs.

He is a wolf and you are a lamb. He wants you in the most carnal, animalistic of ways, your moans spurring him on as he continues to kiss down your chest, your stomach, your hips, all the way to the apex between your thighs. The feeling of your flesh, so soft and supple in his hands, is intoxicating. He spreads your legs, gazing at you as he buries his face between your thighs, his beard tickling your skin, making you let out a soft squeal as he buries his tongue inside your cunt. He laps at your folds like a starved man, alternating between fucking you with his tongue and suckling at your sensitive pearl. He loves the sweet little noises you let out, his mind filled with no thought other than tasting you, bringing you to your peak, watching your body tremble as you come undone at his hands.

You writhe against his tongue, whining and whimpering pathetically, begging for more as you cry out his name. His eyes burn with lust as he gazes up at you, mouthing at your pearl, easing one finger inside of you, pumping it in and out slowly, watching the way you twist your hands in the sheets. You reach your peak, crying out his name with a long, high-pitched moan of pleasure. He moves back over your body to kiss your lips, holding you against him. Your body has brought out the beast in him, he muses as he bites down on your neck, hands grasping at your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh.

You cling to him desperately as he takes your maidenhead, slowly pushing his cock inside you, your bodies joining as one. You whimper softly, arms wrapped around him as he fills you, your warm, wet cunt enveloping him. You feel so perfect around him, everything from your touch, your scent, your body. When he feels you relax, he lets go of every inhibition, everything that was holding him back. He looks down at you with a fierce glare as he pounds into you over and over, a firm grip on your hips as he holds you in place and dominates you completely. You whimper as he pushes your knees up to your chest, allowing him to fuck you deeper, the moans you let out indicating you quite enjoy this new position, how his cockhead bullies against your sweet spot with each thrust.

“My lord husband,” you moan softly.

He lets out a low growl of desire, increasing his speed as he pistons his hips against your own, wanting you to scream his name. He feels you squeeze around him impossibly tight and let out a whine of his name. He knows you’ve reached your peak, judging by the dazed expression on your face, but he is nowhere near finished with you. He flips you onto his stomach, reveling in the little yelp you let out as he puts you on your hands and knees. He begins fucking you with renewed vigor, his stones slapping against you, this new onslaught of carnal desire bringing you more pleasure than you thought possible.

“Too much,” you whine pathetically, though you make no effort to push him away.

Otto pays no mind to your pleas for mercy. Too much? No. Never enough. He is not a man as he ruts against you, he is an animal. You are not his wife, you are his prey. In this bed, you are not a princess. His hips hold you in place as he continues snapping his hips against yours relentlessly at a near brutal pace.

In this bedchamber, he is a king and you are his whore. His body shudders as you squeeze around him, crying out his name. You glance back at him over your shoulder, whispering a soft plea.

“Breed me, my husband. Let your seed quicken in my womb.”

You reach your peak once more, eyes rolling back and legs shaking in absolute ecstasy, squeezing around him so tight that it triggers his own end. He spills himself deep inside you, smiling to himself as your body quivers and you cling to him, burying your face in his chest as you come down from your high.

“My husband,” you say, gazing up at him, lashes fluttering as you begin to fall asleep.

“You are beautiful, my sweet wife,”  he says, pressing his lips to your forehead, “Rest in my arms for a few minutes and then I will have you again.”

“A few minutes?” you ask breathlessly, “I do not know if I can handle another round, my husband.”

Otto chuckles as you lay your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, “Of course you can, my love. I will give you all I can and then some. You are a dream come true, my sweet love, and I will do my best to fulfill you.”

You lay back, eyes closing, only to fly open when you feel his beard tickling your thigh again, “O-oh!”

Otto has hooked your thighs over his shoulders and is once again devouring you like a man starved, smirking to himself as you squeal pathetically, like a bitch in heat. Your peak reaches you, more intense than any before. You lay there, chest heaving as you stare at your husband, evidence of your arousal glistening on his beard. You shrink away in embarrassment, letting out a soft gasp when he turns you back to face him. Your face is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, tendrils of hair clinging to your temple.

“No, my love, you will feel what I have to offer. I cannot hold back. My love for you is like a fire and I burn for you.”

“Otto,” you mewl as he joins your bodies once more, “Oh, please…”

He laughs quietly, whispering in your ear, “It’s adorable how you plea for mercy when all I am doing is giving you what you want. Your only purpose is to give me joy, Princess. To bear my heirs, to warm my bed.”

“Yes, husband,” you bury your face in his neck as he increases his pace, “Oh, gods, I can’t…”

He feels you writhe against him, grabbing you by the throat and squeezing, feeling your walls flutter around him, making him acutely aware that you’re enjoying his rough treatment. You reach your peak yet again and lay there, lips parted, a dazed expression on your face as he continues to fuck you.

“You belong to me, my wife. I will have you until I am sated. And that will take quite some time.”

Your hips buck up against his, wanting to squirm away yet still craving his touch, overstimulated and oversensitive as you reach your third peak, letting out a sigh of relief as your husband finally spills himself inside you. He collapses beside you, breathing heavily as he holds you in his embrace, peppering kisses all over your face as you shiver against him.

“Will every night be like this?” you ask breathlessly.

He nods, “If you allow me, my love.”

You fall asleep, feeling his hands running through your hair, bringing you a sense of peace and comfort you have never felt in your life.

You feel loved by your husband, a luxury many women are not afforded. And you thank the Seven for it.

And as for your husband? You have given him a second chance at love. And he will be forever grateful.

#otto hightower x you #otto hightower x reader #otto hightower x y/n #otto hightower #otto hightower smut #otto hightower fanfiction #otto hightower fan fiction #otto hightower fanfic #otto hightower fan fic #my writing #otto oneshot #targaryen!reader

[beardeddetectivepaper]

#if you tried hard enough this could fit Daemon and Otto more #but rhaenicent brainworms are too much #love my divorced parents <333 #rhaenicent #alicent x rhaenyra #rhaenyra x alicent #rhaenyra targeryan #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #hotd #hotd shitpost #i am a child of divorce #house of the dragon

[jhuzen]

a what? [m.reader]

this… idk what this is. it’s very indulgent so excuse the very chill grammar. my head is hammered by all the hot men in hsr. so here. yes, they won me over (jfc how could they not my god, i’ve been waiting on them for months) ☠️ so here’s a self-indulgent cat-boy alignment from some tall men in hsr. i’ve been playing since the release and i’m already just a few exps away from level 40 send help.

𖦹 nsfw/suggestive contents, hcs ig, i use the speculative name for the trailblazer hehe, top reader :’D, this is basically a shitpost but also not LMAO.

GEPARD LANDAU — official dogboy, a lapdog too if you will

is this even a question at this point?

he’s your little pup (maybe not so little), and he radiates that golden retriever vibes. he’s a little more serious than that, sure, but rest assured, he’s always on you when you need him and he’s not particularly swamped with his guard duties as the captain.

he never fails to light up every time you pass by him when he’s out on patrol. he appreciates your little visits of course, sometimes even stopping by to bring him some food when you can. but there’s always something so magical whenever he sees you around the city, just minding your own business, not really aware that he can see you from his post.

and there’s just a spike of serotonin in gepard’s brain every time he ‘bumps’ into you in one of your personal excursions, romancing you with such subtlety (it’s really not much subtle, everyone and their mother in belobog knows you and him are together).

he thinks he’s so slick, trying to smooth talk you, when really, the tips of his ears are bright red, while you, completely unfazed only tried to hold in a laughter. what a trooper your boyfriend truly is!

serval thinks she should be getting second hand embarrassment from her brother’s actions towards you, but you both just looked so sweet that she just had to enjoy the view of you humoring her stiff as hell brother. he’s way too serious on the field (rightfully so), but it was all the more endearing to see a bit of that innocent glee that gepard somehow manages to manifest with you around.

he’s your good dogboy bro, always ready to serve you. though that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate getting spoiled. your massages, especially your back rubs, are the highlight of his day after a grueling training — after his nice hot shower, with you guiding him all the way to your shared bedroom to give him a nice massage, it’s absolute bliss for him.

the cute sighs and the way his face becomes scrunched up as you worked the knots away from his muscles was adorable.

and if… the mood provides it, often times it leads to something a little bit more intimate than your wholesome little act of service.

gepard is a babygirl through and through man. he takes everything that you give him like a champ — extremely cooperative and will do anything as you say. maybe it’s because he likes being ordered around for once, maybe it’s because he finds it incredibly attractive to see you take charge… it could go either way and it drives him nuts.

he’s very loud, so you will be entertained at the plethora of ways gepard has to come up with just so he can’t be heard by the other neighbors while you completely wreck him.

handle with care after, please, he has to go to work the next day! we can’t have the famed captain of the silvermane guards limping around >:((

𐂂

SAMPO KOSKI — absolute mid with the way he’s a dog for seeking attention and a cat for being such a little bitch

congrats! you have a weird man for a boyfriend. the man that roams the streets of belobog be it in the underworld or overworld.

you vaguely recall the first time you and him met was when he was trying to persuade an overworld citizen in buying something, and you, as shameless as you are, moved towards him and squeezed the skin of his exposed waist, making the poor man yelp.

you gave him one questionable look before slut-shaming him with that getup, but not before buying your much needed supplies and leaving a sack of belobog currency.

admittedly, your relationship with sampo began as a transactional one. you buy stuff from him and he rewards you with a relatively risqué entertainment that your old folks would certainly faint from if they knew in the first place. but, as it turns out, even such a peculiar relationship can grow an oasis of genuine fondness for each other.

your dates before were just you and him meeting up in his place, hanging out, and then both of you just go on your separate ways. nowadays, it’s him that comes inside your house, incredibly woeful and in need of your attention and you oblige him regardless of how whiny he is.

oh, right, yes. sampo is whiny, have you seen him around his comrades? the man has the ‘woe is me’ attitude every now and then, and more often than not, you instigate that form of reaction whenever you tease him with a grin on your face.

there’s reasonable (or so i hope) amount of you calling out his outfit and why he feels the need to expose his waist only. sampo said it’s to attract customers like you, and you gotta hand the win on him on that one. though, it was becoming far more evident that you no longer see him as just an entertainment value and you as his source of income.

so. bloody. needy. it’s like he can’t live without your attention — thank the stars that the ban between the overworld and the underworld was lifted eventually so he can visit you more on the surface. one minute he skirts out of your home after some good fucking and then the next, he crawls back to you pathetically like a kicked puppy.

though, that is only to say that you got sampo absolutely hooked with your touches that he feels still lingering on his skin — you had an affinity for just harassing his poor waist while you call him names. he loves it anyway.

his clinginess comes with merit though, he appreciates the skin contact and you appreciate that chest of his to lay on. absolute king. if you tell him that his tits are the only selling point of why you finally fell for him, he will sulk and just sigh all day, looking at you with such disappointment.

“so i’m just a slab of meat to you, huh?” — sampo koski, xxxx

“pretty sure what’s in here are fats.” — you, nuzzling your face in his chest, xxxx

honestly, dating sampo feels like a one night stand, considering that he’s willing to limp away from your home in the crack of dawn, but it also feels just as endearing when he seeks you out or if you do the seeking, you could see how genuinely delighted sampo is to have you near him.

𐂂

JING YUAN — certified cat boy that’s just too good at fucking [with] you

mercilessly sly and an absolute mastermind, jing yuan has his fair share of mischief in the first place and you aren’t one he can spare despite having the honor of being the famed general’s partner.

you’re not so much of a fighter, you’re just a humble assistant to fu xuan (she disapproves of your poor taste in men though), but you learned to sleep with one eye open at the cost of you getting completely mauled to death by a general in need of his lover’s touch. he jumps at you with little to no warning, and you’re not certain if you should be proud of his stealth skills or just straight up be terrified lest you wake up to a succubus sucking you dry.

all that aside though, jing yuan is a passionate partner behind closed doors. he might look passive, but he’s sure to constantly be listening to your mumbling, even down to you just listing down what you need to buy for your home. he loves every part of you undoubtedly.

though, he likes to randomly charge you these fees wherein the currency is your warm hug. he could be a lot taller than you and still drape himself to your side while you hold him with one arm all the while cooking with the other.

a big, biiiiig cat, that’s for sure. and he accepts it, but on the account that you use it to tease lil ol’ him, get ready to be milked dry or at the very least, deprived of any form of affection from your cat.

he’s got a bit of an attitude too. he dreads the fact that you have a far more gentle disposition to his subordinates compared to him. you’re always so hard on him on work days, it makes him feel so lonely.

alas he has a remedy for that, particularly something you didn’t like at all.

mischief and a bored jing yuan on slow days are days you reminded yourself not to enter his office on, just to be safe and not get lured into his silly tricks. it always somehow fails, considering that he still is the general, and even though you are acting as fu xuan’s guide/assistant more than the general’s right hand man, you can’t refuse his calls because it’s still one of your responsibilities.

your cunning partner made sure to take advantage of that and cue… you writhing and breathless on his seat while he helped himself to your… offering from under the table. he promises he will be quick, but jing yuan is insatiable. for every time this happens, once or twice, a cloud knight would walk in to look for their general, and you had to talk to them without even giving away the embarrassing position you’re in.

hands down, a pillow princess if he’s not riding you to death. he’s the dozing general, but when the mood calls for it, he can take charge and just… leave you dry. so good luck with that.

cherishes the aftercare, he loves the slow intimate moments between you and him after. and if you’re a god at it, you can’t ever make him leave the bed, ever.

you once said, “oooh big stretch” when your beloved general did so one morning. that was the first and quite possibly the last time that you had him completely speechless for a good second. and that was saying a lot, considering that he always has the last word in your conversations. it became a core memory lmao.

𐂂

BLADE — another ultra catboy… except it’s the kind of cat that demands a lot from you after scratching your face

how in the many worlds did you ever pull this tormented man and his big sword? it’s concerning, really. kafka finds it amusing though that you even managed to make a space for yourself in blade’s little emo heart.

just laying it out there, you and blade babysit silver wolf and there’s no getting out of it apparently. kafka already placed you as the voice of reason when the one time she sent out only blade to look after silver wolf while you were off stalking the astral express gang, he dressed like a hobo, so much that he became extremely suspicious in sight more than he ever could dressed as just himself.

that aside, blade is probably one of the most demanding lovers you have dated (threateningly jealous at times too). no one can top him (but you ehe), he’s like a grumpy cat, literally swiping at you on the first few months before suddenly caving and asking you for almost everything.

really he just misses you, but he’s not into admitting such a fact. for the years that he’s gone through, whatever it may have been, you who did not care about who he was before was something that drew him in even more, you went at your own pace and it was no different when you became his. there was a sense of comfort that you brought to him.

so anyway, demanding partner that wants nothing but you. he’s extremely protective, which you found endearing, until you realized he will point a sword even to a little kid who so much as insults your face. not really good when you’re gathering intel when elio asks you both to do so.

dates with blade either includes the stellaron hunters because they are very fond of your relationship and are very nosy… or just you and him cooped up in your room, sleeping together, or ‘sleeping together’. not all too grand, but on missions that elio sends you both out on, you take the time to indulge your beloved and eat on different places, trying out delicacies of every particular world you visited in. blade doesn’t say much, but with the way his hand grips onto yours tightly already says a lot.

just throwing it out there, he is… quiet in bed. a grunter or a gasper, but if you really, really hit the right spot, he gives the deepest whine that leaves him shaking.

you either handle him with care or if he asks for it, go rough on him. like what was said, blade knows what he wants and will demand it from you all the same, no exceptions. and if you fail to live up to his expectations, he will move himself all the while glaring at you with so much disappointment.

he has… insane stamina, and if you can’t keep up, you better start working on that. the last thing that you want is to disappoint your vengeful boyfriend that has a lot of issues on his back. and while it’s not too bad of a sight to see your beloved imitate a sulking cat, it’s not so good when he ignores you. it’s not just about sex, if you so much as get that disappointing stare, best make it up to him and treat him like he’s your everything (as you should).

you once saw kafka and silver wolf planning out wedding destinations for you and blade at some point. you are unsure how to feel about your comrade’s deep involvement in your relationship — even more so when elio suggested the big wedding after you lot have accomplished your mission to the universe.

anyway, to say the least, your catboy is overly possessive and knows what he wants and can and will demand it from you. but even with such an overbearing personality and a terrifying look on his pretty face, you were already well versed in the blade language.

he thanks you on nights when you’re just out cold, probably tired from a mission, pressing a soft kiss on the side of your head. this man may have already considered elio’s proposal of the wedding date (jk).

𐂂

DAN HENG — third cat in a row. are all xianzhou men cats? but he’s the cat that’s quietly watching you, always listening

what do you mean he’s a [redacted for spoilers]? absolutely not. this man is a cat through and through.

the cat that silently watches you from afar while you do your own work. perhaps it’s because you always offer a sense of tranquility that dan heng found himself deeply enamored with you. you were just… so peaceful. it helped a lot, your presence soothed his deeply rooted anxieties born from his past. it’s as simple as you just shrugging and telling him, “why bother with anything else when i am alright where i am right now,” and dan heng fell hard.

you are as expressive as you can get, and can even get on the trailblazer and march’s antics. but the fact that you were mature enough to let yourself be resigned to the fate of time, that you were able to accept things as they are far better than anyone could, it was something your dearly beloved dan heng admired. in a sense, he also wanted to emulate whatever you’ve got going on.

bettering himself even more just because he loves you? goals. you changed this man and that was a sworn promise that he will never ever leave you from then on. always prowling around you, babysitting march 7th with you, reluctantly holding the trash the trailblazer rummages through with you, teaching old man welt how to use his beacon with you, etc.

that’s it, you can never pry dan heng out of your life anymore (unless you ask him to, in which case, please don’t, the man already has a lot to carry, how do you expect him to bear the weight of a broken heart from someone he thought he found happiness in?).

this catboy definitely lacks the expressiveness that you have, but just like any other stoic cat owner out there, you’ve basically read him well at that point. it’s almost as if you have the urge to make a guidebook about your boyfriend, and the aeons know that everyone in the astral express will eat it up.

he’s a little hard to coax at first to be more open in the beginning parts, but give him some time and he will be quicker to pry open than any other food that has an equally hard shell.

same thing in your more… intimate moments. give him some time to get used to things, especially if you’ve got far more experience at this sort of activity. go gentle, he loves the cradling embrace every time you ease yourself into him. he gets shy randomly out of nowhere in the middle of your little session, so do be patient.

though rest assured, he will grow bolder, eventually asking you to do all sorts of things that even you weren’t aware he knows about. he’s very eager to learn from you all the more, not just about the things that he prefers but what you also want! he’s extremely observant with your reactions, where you like to be touched.

let him take control every once in awhile, let him know that even in something as intimate as this, he can have a say. let him ride you until whenever, let him go at his own pace and he absolutely will lose his mind over that. the feeling of your arms around him, securing him in a tight hug while he drapes himself over you? dan heng will go nuts.

he’s also… very vocal. but he tries his best to keep it to a minimum lest you both let everyone in the express know what’s happening. usually though, you two only get frisky when everyone’s off the train and the only left are you, him, and dear ol’ pom-pom.

aftercares are everything to him, there’s something so touching at the fact that you are more than willing to still get up after being so spent just to make sure he’s comfortable after. you’re making this man cry, damnit! too good, too good.

never underestimate the tight grip he has on you — he’s usually the big spoon and he never hesitates to cling onto you. you’re like the safety that he finally found after running away from the things that trouble him. and every day with you is a day he always looked forward in waking up to.

𐂂

CAELUS — what the fuck is this? it’s not a dog or a cat. it’s a fucking trash panda.

ah yes, a raccoon with rabies (see: stellaron)

honestly, there’s no telling what is wrong with your boyfriend. it is… terrifying tbh. but you promised to be a supportive partner no matter how unnerving it is to see your beloved rummage through myriads of trash cans around belobog. more than once or twice, he has come up to you with a trash bag and even brought you a golden one.

you once asked what their use would be, and caelus just gave you a carefree smile while saying “we eat them to have better and stronger attacks against the enemy!” you quickly called dan heng and march to restrain him.

he texts you at the most ungodly hours. you don’t normally sleep at the same time as the other trailblazers since you took up the mantel in keeping watch of the express with pom-pom while the lot of you traversed through the heavenly galaxies of the universe. and because of that, your boyfriend just texts you until he falls asleep.

and when you are asleep in the day, before he heads out, he makes sure to tuck you in real good with a kiss for extra measure. seriously, he’s way too sweet for his own good. once or twice, you’ve caught him while you’re barely awake and he still manages to leave you flustered.

missions in different worlds means having to taste the myriad of delicacies a certain nation in a world has to offer. you both once ended up in a remote broken up island when the express made a quick stop in this one particular world that has… what do they call those again? archons? and you and caelus went ham on the dango milk (there was a distinct lack of trash cans around and everyone was safe from his addiction).

he loves you all too much, to the point where he’s attached to your hip, going wherever you go. getting all sulky when someone had your eye for a little bit longer. in that same nation in a world you stopped over, your eyes just happened to gaze a second longer at this young man with long braided blonde hair. though you were more interested in the tiny floating thing beside him, your raccoon was not able to inhale some copium and went all pouty at you.

either he ignores you, or he sends you a batch of sad pom-pom stickers in your beacon.

just wrap him in a blanket and fuck him silly, it can make him forget about the tiny things he was mad at you for. and just like dan heng, he can be very loud. so you kinda have to keep shushed up, a kiss usually does the trick however, so it shouldn’t be too hard to manage your little rowdy trailblazer.

he’s willing to take charge every now and then, he also still wants to make you feel good, after all! but he’s more of a pillow princess too, fuck him sideways and that gets him going, it makes him cry actual tears and alas, it was a blessing in your eyes to see him plead for you all the while trying to muffle his own sobs.

and after doing his head in, it is a must to spoon him after you clean him up. and maybe formulate a half-assed response when march comes knocking on your door, asking if you both fought or… let her come to an impending realization and just… make her not look at the both of you for a good week straight.

either way though, caelus is your pretty boy, always armed with witty teasing remarks and shitposts and a lot more stickers of pom-pom ready to flood your private messages with him.

10/10 -5 for the trash can obsession. ehe.

#you might be asking #wheres luocha or welt #well #i still have honkai trauma #particularly otto trauma LMAO #meanwhile old man welt #i feel like a homewrecker since he literally has a son and a speculated wife answimef #dw i will write #I PROMISE I HAVE SOMETHING IN STORE #maybe i’ll post it tmrw? #maybe #For now have this shitpost #hsr x reader #hsr x male reader #honkai star rail x male reader #gepard x male reader #sampo x male reader #jing yuan x male reader #blade x male reader #dan heng x male reader #caelus x male reader #jhuzen’s stupid hcs

[just-some-random-blogger]

Accidental Targ

Scene III: i told you to hold my hand! | Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen x Modern!Reader

Summary: After coming to terms with the fact you were in King's Landing some two thousand years before your birth, you get reunited with your friend and try to manifest your way back to the present. For the meantime, Harwin Strong is your bodyguard.

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: fem!reader, time travel au, descriptions of reader's hair, incestuous gremlin!daemon, very sus and innappropriate boss-employee dynamics, low key sugar daddy!otto hightower vibes, crackfic, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS I DID IT. I FINISHED IT 😫 Also, its come to my attention that perhaps the way i planned out everything geographically is ??? bad but no its not just roll with it AND!! remember yall voted for him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i have a feeling you didnt read the prompt fully but whatever HAHAHAA i honestly have no idea where i meant to take this fic, so ???? enjoy?? HAHHAAH

Shoot me if I ever say it again, but for now: gods bless capitalism, specifically for it desecrating a national landmark.

Where once I was one of the people who protested against the building of the High Garden Centre, girl, was I thankful that the old ruins of the fucking Red Keep laid there as a little ol' artsy featurette.

"What's that sound?" Daemon asks as we stand from our spot.

I turn to my side, never before so relieved to hear and see, no more than two blocks away, a rave spilling out of a club, the very one Libby and I were at before we got into this shit show. "That, my prince, is called EDM."

I hurriedly run to Libby's side to pick her up, but Daemon does that himself. He get down and pulls the blue haired woman on his back, and I help him. At the same time, I feel a buzz from my satchel.

My phone!

Daemon watches me as I frantically claw for my device. The amount of texts and call notifications that pop up on my screen is overwhelming. I decide to just let it go off and grab Daemon's arm, "come on."

We walk down from the ruins, shifting through the shrubs and foliage around it. I catch the sight a mall cop and feel agitated when he looks over. He couldn't care less though, the site was open to the public after all, and with a literal club being right there, we were the least of his worries.

We pass the rusty chain fence surrounding it, and draw near Harrenhal (the club). Once we're there, a bunch of men hoot and holler at me. I ignore them as they say something about my 'Targaryen' hair and it dawns on me they were probably calling me princess and lady because I was still in a fucking Targaryen era dress.

Still, I ignore the stupid fucks as they ask to see my pretty skirt, opting to walk faster instead. I was horrified by how loud and violent Daemon's scream was.

He shouted so gutturally that I couldn't understand a lick of The High Valyrian flaming out of his mouth. The vein on his neck popped out and I literally had to hold him back from charging and dropping Libby.

"Daemon, please!" I whimper, heart racing, "Libby's still on you-"

"Grab her and I'll fucking ram steel down- COME OVER HERE AND SAY THAT AGAIN. SAY THAT-"

Steel? I look to his belt. Fucking seven hells, he brought Dark Sister?

I look back at him with wide eyes, feeling nauseous now that I've caught how maddened he looked.

In a panic, I gently pat his face while pulling his arm back, "Daemon, please."

He doesn't look at me.

My voice gets softer and my eyes water, "Daemon, I beg you."

He huffs and clenches his jaw, still not sparing me a glance.

"We don't have time for them," I whisper and keep my hand on his cheek, "I'm just going to connect to the club's wifi from here, then I'll can call us an Ubor."

Daemon does not tear his gaze from the men, who eventually waddle away to whatever sewer they came from, still hollering bullshit as they did.

"Kesan daor nārhēdegon naejot nyetodha aōha irosh," Daemon mutters. I will not forget to slit your throats.

The relief that washed over me was unparalleled when I booked an Ubor set to arrive in 3 minutes. I whimper and rub my eyes, "okay, not long now."

Daemon finally looks at me, still visibly pissed, and adjusts Libby on his back.

I wipe my face, "we're just going to get in the c-" Fuck... I should probably prepare him for the car.

"Okay," I raise my hands, "we're going to get in a metal..." I motion to the space, "... there's going to be a- a- carriage? But with no horse... but and when I get in, you just get in with me, okay?"

Daemon's expression is now one of confusion.

I sigh and place a hand on his shoulder, "it's going to be okay."

His lips curl, "... OK."

I screw my eyes shut and shake my head rapidly, "I mean alright. Alright! ALRIGHT!"

Daemon takes in my visible frustration and nods slowly, "OK."

To be honest, Daemon was a pretty good Ubor passenger, save for the fact his sword nearly cut me, Libby, him and the fucking car seats when he tried to sit without removing his scabbard first. We were lucky the driver seemed to be used to... ren fair people.

He also seemed to be used to driving people to the ER. I was too relieved to think realize how fucked up that kinda is in the moment. Needless to say, I gave him 5 stars and an extra tip.

With Dark Sister in my grip and Libby in Daemon's arms, we finally made it to Lannister Medical Center.

The moment we get there, I run inside the ER and break down at the first nurse I see. I infodump everything, how Libby got attacked, how Harwin lost her, how some maesters tried to help us, how she lost a lot of blood, how I'm afraid she's going to die, how Daemon ended up carrying her, and I just keep going up until I saw Libby's blue hair scattered on a stretcher and the nurse told me to sit down.

I didn't have much fight in me left to argue, so I sit myself down on the bench. But then I see the nurse speaking to Daemon, who, seemed to be explaining what had happened, and I panic all over again.

Before I could stand though, another nurse was there to accommodate me. He did a checkup on me, asked me how I was feeling, and asked if I needed anything to calm down.

I told him I was fine and proceeded to answer his other questions. Daemon eventually came to my side and eyed him.

The nurse gives me a nod and offers a smile, "you seem to be physically well. Just let yourself relax. The doctors have your friend; they'll do their best to help her."

"Thank you."

The nurse nods again. He gives me and Daemon one last look before walking off.

I grab Daemon's hand once it's just the two of us. I look up and shudder, "we did it."

He looks down at me, violet eyes solemn. He brings a hand to my cheek and swipes at my cheek, "ȳdra daor limagon."

"I don't know what that means," I mumble.

"I said don't cry, pretty girl," he kneels in front of me, "worrying will not save your friend."

I stare at him, feeling my heart race and belly roll because of the look he had. He brushes my silver hair back behind my shoulders, only intensifying the flurry in my stomach. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, suddenly, my stomach growls. Oh.

Daemon turns his eyes to my belly as I clutch it.

"You want something to eat... prince?"

Daemon reaches a hand out, "lead the way."

I take his hand, grab Dark Sister, and hand it to him. He fastens his scabbard as we exit the ER and I go through my satchel, fishing for my wallet. Just before I get it, I remember that I blew most of my money on the Ubor.

"Fuck," I curse and turn to Daemon, "I don't have enough money."

Daemon rests his hand on his sword and simply stairs.

"I don't have coin," I clarify. I look around the road and figure our chances of riding a bus at this hour was nonexistent. I give him a look, "do you mind walking home with me?"

Daemon raises a brow, "as opposed to swimming home with you?"

I raise my brows and sigh, "Daemon-"

"Lead the way," he nods and points, "I am not one to tire easily."

I nod and slice through air to drive a point, "okay. No matter what happens," I reach out to him, "you have to hold my hand, okay?"

He looks at my hand then my face, his violet eyes sparkle with amusement. He chuckles but he links his fingers between mine (overkill if you ask me). I'm glad goosebumps don't form.

Daemon smiles softly, "you take me for a child, riña?"

"This child knows how to cross the street," I squeeze his hand harder than necessary and begin to walk off, "I'm not sure you do, kekepa." Grandfather.

Daemon laughs, full-on throwing his head back, "how hard is it to cross? You jus-"

His words go dry when an empty school bus passes us. He was so stunned by the yellow contraption, I had to tug his arm to continue walking.

Just then, a Megatron looking-ass truck drives down the street. I hiss and curse the 14 wheeler for emitting such horrible smoke, eyeing it as it drives away.

Meanwhile, I catch the prince's stunned reaction and almost feel bad for finding it funny. Almost.

We arrive at my apartment about 20 minutes later.

I press the elevator button and turn to Daemon, "don't put your arm between the door, okay?"

Daemon gives me a look.

The elevator opens and we step inside. Daemon gives me a look, "we have lifts you know."

I pull my head back, "you do?"

"At the wall," Daemon retorts as the elevator door closes.

"The wall?" I think for a moment, "ahh. You're right."

A beat.

I knit my brows, "wait, you've been to the wall?"

"Of course I've been to the wall."

The moment we get to my place, relief washes over me. I take my shoes off and scoop my hair in front, "fucking rip this dress off me."

Without a single thought between his brows, Daemon's reaches out to undo the ties at the back of my dress.

Just before he does this, I hear him walk in with his boots and nearly have a heart attack when he passes my threshold.

"OH, ABSOLUTELY NOT!" I turn and shove him back, "take your crusty boots off now!"

Daemon looks at me in bewilderment but walks back and doesn't protest as he removes his shoes. He places his shoes on the rack along with mine.

Not wasting time, he catches my arm and yanks me towards him. He spins me around and immediately undoes the back of my dress. I hastily begin to tug my dress down once I can.

He chuckles, "eager girl."

I rather literally jump out of my dress when I can. Pent-up rage overcomes me. I turn around and start kicking the dress away, releasing all my frustration and anger out on the thing. I curse 8th century Westeros and the Red Keep in particular and assault the object until I'm out of breath.

I proceed to jump onto my sofa and allow exhaustion to finally take over my being.

A second later, I catch Daemon's expression and realize, he probably thought he was going to get lucky when I asked him to basically strip me naked.

"Ahh," I get back on my feet, "sorry about," I point to the dress, "that."

Daemon says nothing as he steps closer. He reaches out for my hip and I swat his hand away. I shake my head, "this is my house."

He chuckles as I evade him on my way to the kitchen, which was not nearly as far as it should have been. The prince eyes the space, "yes. An impressive little room you've got." He follows after me, "I'd love to see the rest of it."

I look at him as I reach my fridge and open the door.

Daemon squints at the light that radiates on me. I cuss at the fact I only had cereal (no milk) and some vegetables that have gone bad. I grab the paper box and hand it to him. He blankly stares at it as I discard the vegetables.

Daemon's brows contort at he box, "it's cold."

I wash my hands, "yeah, refrigerators do that."

"Gra'-nola," he reads.

"Granola," I correct as I dry my hands on my shift.

I'm suddenly struck with the realization his grubby has have never seen antibacterial soap. I snatch the box from him and motion to the sink, "wash your hands."

Daemon turns to the sink and purses his lips.

For a second, I debate if he'd melt if he uses something antiseptic, but then figure I should still take my chances.

I prop the cereal on the counter and exemplify him how to wash his hands. Daemon, with slight reluctance, pumps some hand wash on his palm, opens the sink, and rinses.

I excitedly applaud him once he was done.

"A hand towel," he raises his dripping hands.

I look around even though I didn't have a hand towel. I shrug, "I usually just use my pants."

Daemon shakes his hands by the sink, "your pants?"

"Yeah. They're like clothes that you put on your-"

He grabs my shift and pulls me closer. He wipes his hands on it, "I know what pants are, princess."

I push him off and smirks as he dodges. I make a face, "well, I do so beg your pardon, your majesty."

The prince lets out a low laugh, "don't get too brazen, or I'll have you begging till you weep."

I quickly change the subject, "get that damned sword off your hip." I shoo him and rummage through my kitchen cabinets.

Daemon watches this and chuckles again. He tilts his head as he eyes my legs. He undoes his scabbard, sets it on my dining table, and pulls out a chair. He sits down just as I find a can of Sbam. Huzzah!

I grab a chopping board and open the can. A small smile spreads on the prince's lips as stares. But then, his expression drops when I shake, or try to shake, the processed meat out of the can.

I huff once I've succeeded, and I begin to cut the Sbam chunk, "you know this was in created during the war," I slice a piece, "it saved a lot of people from starvation."

"Which war?"

I freeze when he says this. I open my mouth then close it, unsure if recounting the details of world wars to him was a good idea, "you know what, never mind that."

Once I was done with the Sbam, I got a pan and heat it up. I get a plate and a loaf of bread, then place it on the table.

I click my tongue at the sight of his sword, "off the table!"

Daemon watches as I take Dark Sister and replace it with the plate and bread. I place the sword by the shoes and he takes the plastic wrapped bread. He feels the material and opens it, "what is this?"

"Bread," I retort, going back to my pan.

"No, I know that, but what's it wrapped with?"

I give him a quick look, "oh, plastic," I begin to cook the Sbam, "it's made of carbon... I think- I dunno- don't quote me on that."

Daemon opens the bag and takes a slice of bread. He pulls his had back, "it's sliced."

I beam and jump excitedly, "it is! It's sliced bread! Betty White is older than sliced bread! And so are you!"

Daemon ignores this as he sniffs the piece in his hand. He takes a bite then and makes a face, "why does it taste like that?"

"Like what?"

His brows knit and his eyes narrow, "like a pretender."

I burst into a laugh. I flip over the Sbam with a spatula, "imitation bread?"

"It wants so earnest to be bread," he pushes the loaf away and shakes his head, "but it clearly isn't."

I laugh even harder.

He snorts at my reaction. He smiles as leans back on his chair. A few moments later, he grows serious, "you ought to dismiss your royal baker."

Oh. My lips twitch and I chuckle under my breath, "ah, yes. My royal baker. Yes, I will dismiss my royal baker for making horrible sliced bread. Yes."

The Sbam was now cooked. I present it to him on a plate, "bon app-- ... I hope you like it."

Daemon leans forward to scrutinize the dish.

I press my lips into a line as I sit down next to him. I take a slice of imitation bread and fold in a slice of Sbam. I realize just how hungry I was after taking a bite. Through half-full mouth, I mutter, "it's good."

Daemon watches me and follows suit. He takes some bread and Sbam, then chomps.

I stop chewing. Wait, what if he gets an instant heart attack because his living fossil-self can't handle processed food?

He licks his lips and chews. I begin to grow more agitated as he makes a face.

"It's delicious," Daemon says, going in for another bite.

My agitation turns into shock, "really?!"

"Well, it's no roasted pork, but it'll suffice," he mutter between chews.

I let out a soft laugh and nod, "I'm glad it's enough for the prince."

"I'm honored the princess herself made it for me."

Aw, fuck. Who's gonna tell him?

There is a knock on my door. At the same time, my phone rings.

Daemon is alerted by the sound and I dash away to finally answer my phone.

"What is that?" the prince asks.

"It's my phone. Remember? You can call people with it."

Daemon narrows his eyes as I rummage my bag for my device. The knocking on the door gets louder.

I turn to the door, "just a minute."

I find my phone and feel my stomach drop at the caller ID. The banging on the door persists.

I answer the phone and head for the door, "hello?"

"Fucking hells!" the voice is worn and apparently worried, "where the fuck have you bee-"

"It's not you outside, is it?" I cut him off as I head for the door.

"What?! No! I'm in the fucking North, dammit! Your friends have been calling me nonstop, since fucking Sunday! -"

I open the door and my face falls. Standing before me is a man in a dark teal suit; his tie was loose, his stubble was thick, and he held what looked like a dozen bags in his hands.

"- You and Libby have been fucking missing for days! Where-"

"Mr. Hightower," I lower my phone as the man on the other end continues to chastise me.

Otto Hightower looks me up and down, then sighs, "out of the way."

Without another thought, I step back to let him in. He expertly slips out of his leather shoes then heads towards my sofa. He places all the bags on the coffee table. I follow after him.

I hear my name being shouted from my phone. I close the door and follow after Otto.

I listen in on the call again and I hiss when the voice pierces my ear drum, "Jon, calm down."

"CALM DOWN!? HOW CAN I BE CALM WHEN YOU WON'T TELL ME ANYTHING!?"

I begin to panic when Daemon walks over.

"Who is that?" Otto asks me. He notices Daemon, then makes a face, "who are you?"

I look at Otto, then Daemon, and dash over to the prince, grabbing his hand. I watch in real time the recognition and disbelief that floods the Targaryen's features as he watches the other slowly remove his tie.

"Libby and I got stuck in the ren-fair!" I reply to my phone.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING CALL?!"

"MY PHONE DIED, JON!" I shout back a lie.

Otto's brow raises. He looks at me and mouths, "Jon?"

I ignore that and groan "LOOK! I'm fine! Libby's-- ... Libby's," I whisper softly, "in the ER-"

"THE ER-"

"I'M TAKING CARE OF HER!"

"WHY THE FUCK IS SHE IN THE ER?!"

"Libby's in the ER?" Otto mutters.

I raise a finger to answer my phone, "Jon, please. I'll explain everything tomorrow."

He screams my name and I have to rip my phone away from my ear again. I vaguely hear him rant about how I should explain why his sister is in the fucking ER.

"Jon, Jon, I love you but I have to go," I quip and immediately end the call. I turn on airplane mode and throw my phone on to the couch.

I release a breath and find myself pulling a smile as the man in the suit eyes me. He's about to speak, but Daemon beats him to it.

"What was that?" the prince asks, pulling me by the arm to face him.

I turn to him and make a face. It's Otto that answers for me, "her ex boyfriend."

I turn to Otto as he tilts his head and raises a brow, as if daring me to correct him.

I do, "my best friend's brother."

Daemon eyes Otto; the latter makes a face, "who used to your lover," he crosses his arms, "I'm offended you take his calls but not mine."

"And who are you?" Daemon hisses, stepping towards him.

Without missing a beat, Otto meets his gaze and scoffs, "who are you?"

Daemon's pulls his chin back and chuckles dryly. His expression screamed FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT.

I jump in front of him, my back presses his chest. I give a nervous laugh, "Mr. High- Director- Mr. Director- sir. This is Daemon."

Otto watches as I grip Daemon's hands behind me.

"And Daemon," I barely look at him over my shoulder, "this is... my... employe-"

"Otto Hightower," he cuts me off, bringing his hand into his breast pocket, "Director and CFO of King's Landing Holdings."

I wince, fuck.

"King's Landing?!" Daemon laughs out loud.

Otto produces a business card.

"It's a company!" I turn around and wave my hands, "it's a company! An establishment!"

Daemon does not tear his eyes away from him.

"He's my employer!" I explain.

Otto offers a piece of paper between his fingers.

The prince looks at it and slightly pushes me away, "what's he doing here then?"

"That's hardly any of your business," Otto retorts, tucking his business card back into his pocket.

Daemon laughs and finally turns to me. He mutters something in High Valyrian along the lines of 'let me do something' and 'stabbing'. I frantically shake my hand and push him back.

He thankfully relents and I sit him back down on my dining table.

My relief is fleeting when I realize the only reason Daemon didn't refute was because Otto was trailing right after me. My stomach drops when I feel a hand on my back.

Otto is right behind me. He places a few of the paper bags he brought on the table. He opens them, "I bought you dinner."

I turn to him, intent to tell him he shouldn't have.

"Amongst other things," he adds.

Daemon barks, "we have dinner."

"How did you even know I was home?" I say at the same time.

Otto's eyes flick to him, to the plate of Sbam on the table. His face is blank as looks back to me. He decides to remove his coat jacket, "I suppose you'd-" eyes Daemon, "-also think a candle equal to a campfire."

"Mister Hightower," I helplessly mutter.

He hangs his jacket on the backrest. He turns to me, "and you were missing--"

My expression sours.

"-- what did you expect me to do? I obviously utilized my connections. I'm offended you'd ask me such a thing."

Daemon mutters something in High Valyrian again.

"Of course, I had come see you myself," he looks at me through his lashes as rolls up his sleeves. My eyes dart to his sleeve tattoos and arm veins. When I begin to scrutinize the hairs on his skin, I realize I've stared to long.

In a panicked frenzy, I begin to unpack one of the paper bags. He, himself, brings out a stack of food containers and places them on the table.

The smell alone makes my stomach grumble.

Otto steps away and comes back with plates and cutlery. He places one plate in front of me, and has a prolonged stare at Daemon before placing the other in front of Daemon. He says, "I would hate for prince Daemon to be reduced to eating Sbam for dinner."

My expression drops. Daemon does not move an inch.

Otto turns to me and pulls out the chair. I take a moment before sitting down, because, really, did I have any other choice?

Otto opens the containers one by one and my mouth waters as I see lobster, lamb, and lemon cakes. He serves me meat and veggies, "I would assume you're not hurt like your friend."

I watch as he places food on my plate. I gulp before responding, "I'm just... tired."

"Then, I would also assume you'll not be attending work tomorrow," he takes my hand, putting the utensils in them. He scrapes a chair to my side and sits down next to me, urging me to eat with a motion.

I look at Mr. Hightower, "oh no- I will! I will-"

"You won't," he raises a hand, "see to it you're well rested."

I turn to my plate, feeling a flurry in my stomach over his words.

"Are you not going to serve your prince?" Daemon cuts in, raising his brows.

The lamb I was about to eat drops back to my plate.

The two glare, as if willing the other to spontaneously combust.

Before anything else could happen, I stand and reach out to Daemon's plate. I squeak when both grab me by the wrist.

My throat tightens.

My heart races when Daemon stands, "release her."

Otto raises his brows and tilts his head, "sit back down."

I rip my wrists out of their grips. Thankfully, neither put up a fight.

They stare at each other for what felt like ages. My agitation rockets when I see my boss begin to fidget with his hands the way he did when he was annoyed and ready to do something drastic.

I give Daemon a panicked look and grab his wrist, "kostilus." Please.

Daemon clenches his fist.

I continue to beg him until he sits.

I squeak when he grabs my chair by the seat and pulls me towards him. He mutters, "kesan daor emagon ao va bona run." I will not have you near that thing.

I turn to Director Hightower; I could see his annoyance building.

Fuck.

"Miste-" "Enjoy your meal then," he speaks as he stands. He grabs his coat and points, "I've bought some first aid things. I'm sure your friend can help you put that away."

I move to stand but Daemon stops me. He looks up at Otto in disgust, "do mind the steel contraptions on your way out."

I snap at Daemon, eyeing him hotly. He places a hand over my legs, ensuring I do not evade him. I watch as Mr. Hightower heads for the door, and in a split second decision, I turn to the prince and kiss him on the lips.

He is evidently taken aback, but it only takes him another second to get into it. Once he's put his guard down, I rip away from him and chase after my boss just as he exits my apartment.

"MR. HIGHTOWER!"

Otto turns around. I huff as I meet him just outside my door, "I'm really sorry about him. He's... he's just like that."

"You're not responsible for the actions of others," he retorts, nonchalant.

"I know. But still-"

"You are responsible for the company you keep," he adds.

I brush my silver hair back, "and you're not responsible for my well-being."

He snorts and shakes his head, "I'm your superior."

I press my lips into a thin line, deciding not to get into this conversation right now, "that, you are, Director."

We stare at each other for a moment. I examine his well-ironed suit, noticing how he didn't bother to fix his tie or buttons any more.

"I'll-"

"Is he not-" Daemon kicks the door open.

My eyes widen, "DAEMON-"

"-fucking gone yet?!" he points Dark Sister in an offensive stance. I yelp when he swings his weapon and scratches the door.

Otto's fight or flight instincts kick in and he takes flight down the hall.

"DAEMON-" I scream. I duck down and grab him by the torso, "STOP IT!"

Daemon screams out in High Valyrian. He laughs and lowers his sword, "yeah, you better run."

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon angst #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x modern!reader #hotd time travel au #hotd au #daemon crackfic #harwin fanfic #harwin strong fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #otto hightower fanfic #otto fanfic

[wackyharpy]

Just have an urge to point out:

Since the moment of the trailers' release, I've already met people who are arguing and humiliating others who don't like the characters they do, or who aren't at the side of the team they like. I understand that you may tend to be more at the side of team black or green, but let's not forget that this is a show, and the characters are fictional. Any person can have fav characters, whoever they like and that's incredible, that's what the show is created for. So, please, you may cheer and support anyone, but don't forget to be respectful and mind others' business. Eventually, I don't think we should be divided, we are all the fans of the same show, we are all united here by one story. So, let's enjoy this adventure together.

Thank you for your attention

#aemond #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower #queen rhaenyra #criston cole #helaena targaryen #prince jacaerys #lucerys velaryon #house targaryen

[written-in-flowers]

Could you pretty please do another part to the only mine one that you just posted? The one with Otto and the Targaryen reader?? The smut there would be so amazing lol! Otto being all sexy Dom on their wedding night and her being all innocent and gentle. 🥺🥺🥺 please please please! 😂😂

Also, feel free to totally ignore if it’s not something you want to do lol! No pressure I just figured I would ask!

The Bedding

Pairing: Otto x Targ!Reader (daemon's daughter)

It's based on this fic right here: All Mine

Warnings: virgin!reader, old/young dynamic (consensual), oral sex (m. and f. giving/receiving), lots of breast and nipple play, light anal play, breeding kink, multiple sex rounds, multiple sex positions, lots of check-ins, otto being the nicest lover ever,

Word Count: 6k

***

The wedding of Ser Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, and Y/N Targaryen, niece of King Viserys, was by all accounts marvelous. Otto would've preferred a small ceremony and supper, but Viserys would not allow it. He said this marriage between their families once again should be celebrated lavishly. So, Otto allowed the council to host a tourney in his and your honor. Otto sat beside you as men knocked each other off horses all day, the victor finally crowning you as his Queen of Love and Beauty. Later, he listened to all the mummers, singers, and dancers who came forward. He ate the long line of courses, drinking small amounts of wine, and dancing with you when you requested it. He accepted ‘congratulations’ and well-wishes from friends, family and fellow lords. He smiled when you asked him for a kiss and again, when you both cut the wedding pie, with several doves flying out of it. 

It was a grand affair; one to rival his previous wedding to his first wife. 

But that was not the part he looked forward to. No, Otto sat throughout the night beside you, counting the minutes until he could finally claim you. When he danced with you, he held himself back with near pain. You looked beautiful. Alicent, wanting to give a proper gift, had paid for your wedding gown. A white silk dress that just barely fell off your shoulders, it had golden flowers embroidered into the bodice and down the center of your skirt. His own gift hung from your neck: a gold necklace with white pearls hanging off it. He regularly imagined tonight when he’d slowly strip you down to your nakedness, kissing and fondling your young body while you whined and whimpered. He bit down on his inner cheek thinking of your virgin cunt, untouched and unspoiled by anyone else, and how it’ll be his after tonight. You will be his. You are his. 

As the night drew to a close, he spotted you talking to Alicent and several other ladies. His previous nerves settled when Alicent said she accepted the union. You are, after all, one of her dearest friends. After the marriage to Viserys, Rhaenyra had distanced herself from her childhood companion and cousin, so you only had one another. While the title of ‘stepmother’ did not sit right with you, you were happy she did not hate you. Being only a few years older than both Alicent and Rhaenyra, the age difference between you and your new stepdaughter was narrow. Perhaps his daughter saw what he did: either you married her father and stayed in King’s Landing or she’ll lose her only friend to a Pentoshi merchant across the Narrow Sea. You both hugged, kissing each other’s cheeks, before parting. When you turned around, he saw the nervous smile you gave him. You must be teeming with anxiousness about your wedding night. 

"Husband," you said nervously, though still smiling shyly, "Did you enjoy the feast?"

"Greatly," he replied, stepping closer so only you heard him, "Though, not as greatly as I'm going to enjoy you."

You looked at him bashfully, giggling at his implication. He offered you his arm, which you took and walked with him home. His body burned with anticipation. He did not know how much longer he could hold back. Otto ordered his household staff not to disturb you both for the rest of the night. The last thing he wanted was being interrupted. Otto brought you into the bedchamber, his cock hardening the moment you looked over at him. Warmth crept up his neck to his cheeks, and he suppressed the feral growl the sight of you brought. His eyes scanned over your body as he walked over to you. 

"How are you feeling, my love?" He asked gently.

"I must admit, I am quite anxious."

"You don't need to be," he said, coming closer to you, "We don't have to do it tonight, if you're uncomfortable." As much as it'd pain him to say it, your consent has always been part of his fantasy. 

"No, no, I would like to…do that…," you replied, "But nobody has ever…I have never…"

"As it should be," he told you, pulling you closer to him. Otto examined the features of your face, cupping your chin and tracing your bottom lip. He placed a chaste kiss on them first, then another and another. "I will show you," he assured you, kissing you once more, "Let us get rid of these clothes." 

He brought you to the long mirror nearby, and carefully began untying your dress from behind. He made sure you felt his fingers on your bare skin, knuckles brushing your spine as he went downwards. "You were beautiful tonight," he said, "I could barely take my eyes off you."

"Thank you," he saw you grin in the mirror. You gasped when he slid your gown off your shoulders and down to your waist, "My lord-"

"-As I have told you already, love," he said in your ear, letting the skirt fall to the floor and leaving you in only your chemise, bodice and stockings. "You may call me Otto now. I want to hear you say it all night," he kissed right beneath your ear and down your neck. When you giggled, he said, "Does that tickle you?"

"Yes," you smiled, shuddering when he continued untying your corset, and taking it off you. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your neck, and cupping your breasts. Your laughter turned into another gasp, and you forgot about the ticklish sensation. Otto groaned at the weight of your breasts in his hands. He gave them a gentle squeeze, and soon your nipples prodded his palms. This caused him to pinch them softly, rolling them between his fingers through the thin shift you wore. All the blood in his body rushed to his groin, where his cock pulsed in his trousers. He wanted to take it out, and shove it deep into you. But, he practiced patience once more. Otto glanced into the mirror to see you watching him, shivering and biting your lower lip.

"Do you like it when I do this?" He asked, still groping your tits. 

"Yes," you nodded. "It feels good."

“Do you like it softly?” He brushed both his thumbs over your nipples gently, seeing you shivering against him. “Or would you like me to go harder?” 

You winced when he pinched and rolled them harshly, and you shook your head, “Softly, please.”

He returned to gently palming and teasing. “If I do anything you do not enjoy,” he said, “Tell me. I do not wish to make this unpleasant for you.” He kissed up your neck, saying in your ear, “I cherish you so dearly. I’d hate myself if I caused you discomfort or made you feel you must do this.” 

“I do want this,” you told him, confirming it by putting your hands on top of his. “I have for a long time. Please, Otto, don’t stop. Make me yours; make me yours so my father cannot take me away.”

“I’d kill him first, King’s brother or not,” he grunted, pressing his cock into your back and cupping your breasts delicately. He hooked his fingers on the last layer, and said, "May I? Or would you rather leave it on?"

"Y-you may."

He exhaled deeply and carefully lifted it off you. It was like unwrapping a gift. The curves and dips aroused him even further. In nothing but stockings, the sight overshadowed anything his fantasies conjured up. Otto's eyes fell down to your sex and his mouth watered. He saw the lips and pictured the sweet pearl in between them. You turned away, embarrassed and aroused at the same time. You put both your hands over it out of habit, but Otto gently pulled them apart again. 

"There is no need to be shy, dearest," he told you, eyes looking back down to your pussy. He wanted to bury his face in it, giving you ultimate pleasure over and over. But, he held himself back. "I'm your husband now. It's alright to show your body to me." 

“Forgive me,” you said, “I’ve never been this…exposed before.”

“It is a feeling you will get used to,” he kissed your neck softly, “Especially with me as your husband.” 

When he cupped your bare breasts again, he took their supple flesh and hardened nipples. He toyed with them, making you squirm in his arms. Otto noted how your bare flesh felt smooth on his palms, and the wrinkles in your hard nipples brushed his thumbs. He briefly pictured the things he could do to your tits alone, and the visions drove him wild. He turned your head and kissed you deeply. You moaned softly into his mouth, and he moaned right back. His cock strained against his breeches, the tent pressing into your back as he started running his hands up and down your sides. You yelped when you felt him push into you. He took the opportunity to grasp your hips, letting you know where his hands were and where they’d go next. 

"Would you like me to touch you there?" He asked you between kisses, "Or do you want me to keep touching you this way?"

"Um, I…"

"I will not be upset at either answer," he replied, going back up your body. "We can go to the bed, if that will make you more comfortable."

"I'd like that."

He brought you over to the bed, watching you climb to the pillows and rest there. Your thighs remained squeezed together, and saw you shudder. Otto took a moment to dress down to his shirt and breeches, before joining you on the bed. Delicately, he spread your thighs to see your sex in front of him. His jaw fell open at the sight of it so close and within reach. But, he refrained once again and laid down beside you. He continued kissing and caressing you. He wouldn't force you to do anything; he'd hate to ruin this perfect moment with hastiness. But, he groaned when something touched his groin. 

"Is this okay?" You asked him meekly, keeping your hand there. 

"Yes," he breathed, "Yes, it is."

"Do I keep rubbing like this?" You asked, still tracing his bulge. 

"Yes."

Otto left enough space for you to comfortably grope him. He pulled you to him, bringing your leg over his as you continued touching and kissing. His arousal tenfolded when you started cupping him earnestly, going up and down his length through his pants. He did not want to rush you into seeing his cock, but he wished he could. The animalistic part of him wanted to lay you on your back and take you. Your tits in his hands, that same feeling continued throbbing inside him. He bent you back to take one nipple in his mouth. This next step had you whining and shivering. He gave it a careful suck, tender and light, and swirled his tongue over the very tip of your nipple. He did the same, suckling on one while massasing the other. When he kissed up your neck, you went back to fondling him. 

"Otto," you whispered his name, "May I…" you hesitated, looking down at his crotch. "May I…"

"May you 'what', darling? Use your words, angel."

He knew what you were going to ask, but he wanted to hear you say it. 

"May I take it out?" You asked in a single breath. "I've never seen one before. I’d like to see yours."

"Of course you may," he answered, sucking one of your nipples before rolling onto his back for you. 

You knelt beside him, shaky fingers undoing the laces his cock pushed forward. Otto continued watching you, putting every naked inch of you to memory. He saw a mixture of eagerness and hesitancy in your eyes. You knew what you’d see, but never seen one in the flesh. He was glad your first would be his. You undid the flap of his breeches, then slipped your hand inside. The feeling of your cold hand on his hot muscle made him hum softly. When you took it out, you looked at it while timidly stroking him. He brought you back over to him as you did this, gripping your backside with one hand and kissing your neck. Otto groaned in your neck, focused on the hand jerking him slowly. You ran your thumb up under his tip, giving a soft squeeze so a droplet of precum came out. Otto’s heartbeat drummed in his ears. You held him out to see his full length and balls underneath. He isn't an intimidating size, yet you still pouted.

"What if it doesn't fit?" You asked him worriedly, smushing the precum leaking from the hole to test its slickness. "Lady Dustin said that can happen if a man's too big."

He chuckled, and kissed you, "It will fit just fine. I'll be gentle with you." 

"Would you like me to use my mouth?" 

Yes, yes he would. He'd kill a man to have your mouth wrapped around it, tenderly sucking and moaning. "If you wish to," he said. "I will not force it on you.”

“I’d like to…try it.”

“Then, be my guest, love.”

He watched with bated breath as you lowered your mouth over his head. Your tongue tentatively licked the precum from him. You swallowed it once, then did it a second and third time. The very touch of your tongue of his sensitive flesh had Otto quivering. He ran his hand up and down your back soothingly, simply taking in the curve of your spine and smooth skin. You then licked the shaft up and down. His excitement grew when he saw you take a space between his thighs, tug his pants further down and take the base of him in your hand. Your eyes met his while your mouth slowly engulfed the tip. You sucked him softly, unsure whether he liked it or not. But, when he groaned suddenly at the tongue licking the underside, you took it as a sign to continue. He wondered where you’d learned of this act. It is not the sort of thing Septas or mothers told their daughters. Then again, Prince Daemon is your father; you must’ve heard stories about the whorehouses he visited. This excited Otto: picturing you in a brothel, laying naked on a bed while you learned how to pleasure men. Imagining you doing it for his benefit made him harder. 

“Am I doing it right?” you asked nervously, stroking him still. 

“Yes, yes you are,” he huffed, removing his shirt to cool himself down. “Keep going like that.” 

You continued enthusiastically, starting to take in more of him whenever he praised you. His eyes fell shut at the feeling of your mouth around him. The pleasure heightened when he remembered whose daughter you were, and the look on his face should he find you about your marriage. Otto took hold of your hair, simply to feel a part of you as you continued sucking him. He pictured Daemon’s face, enraged and scowling at him when he sees you wed and pregnant. Because, yes, he will impregnate you. He will fill you with his seed, and pray it quickened there. Otto had no interest in having more children until tonight, when he imagined you swollen and round with a child inside you. His child. Otto let out a long groan at the soft tongue sliding up and down the underside of his cock. He looked down to see your cheeks hollowed out, and stuffing him in your mouth. Innocent, pleading eyes gazed back up at him, eager for more praise and encouragement. 

“Such a pretty girl,” he purred, lifting you from his groin and sitting to kiss you. He didn’t mind the taste on your lips or in your mouth. Your kisses were addictive, and he’d indulge himself every chance. “You’re doing so well, pet,” he murmured, pecking your lips. 

“Do you like it?” you asked sweetly, stroking his hard cock in your hand. “Am I pleasing you, Husband?”

“Yes,” he breathed, grabbing your breast for a gentle squeeze, “Yes, you are. I’d like you to keep doing it just how you were: slow and gentle.” 

“As you wish.”

The Seven truly favored him. Nothing aroused him more than hearing you obey his very whims, eager to please and pleasure him. You both fondled one another for a moment before he laid back down, groaning as he watched you slide him back into your mouth. You did as he asked. You tenderly sucked his length and hummed around it softly. He could tell by the way you rocked your hips to the bed, your cunt ached for him. Otto gripped the bed underneath him as he thought of your virginal sex dripping, throbbing and fluttering. When you picked up your pace, due to your arousal, he couldn’t help thrusting into your throat. He heard you gag, and he immediately withdrew. 

“Forgive me, love,” he panted, “You arouse me so much, I’m having difficulty holding back my keenness for you.”

You pulled away, coughing and looking at him, “I do?”

“You do. Gods….come here.”

He brought you back to him, your thighs straddling his waist as he greedily kissed you. He allowed you to grind against his wet member, enjoying the sensation of your hard clit and soaked folds stroking him. You mewled and whined at the friction; you wrapped your arms around him and moaned into his mouth. Otto put his arms around your waist to grab your bottom. The deepest, darkest, filthiest parts of his desires involved doing things to your tight, round ass. He pictured himself buried deep inside it, you moaning and unable to handle the pleasure mounting inside you. He gave both cheeks a tender squeeze, and guided you along his length. You squealed when one of his fingers brushed against the center, and you broke from him. 

“I’m sorry,” he crooned, still grinding and groping you, “Did you not like that?”

“I…I don’t know,” you replied nervously. 

“Would you like me to do it again, and if you don’t I’ll stop?”

Only when you nodded did he continue stroking that area lightly. He went in time with your gyrating hips, still grabbing both your ass cheeks and massaging them. He knew you enjoyed it when you pushed yourself into his hands. Sucking lightly on his neck, he growled at the feeling of your tight entrance against his fingertips. Eventually, he sensed you starting to tremble on top of him. He left your bottom to smooth his hands over your back and shoulders; he trailed down your thighs and back to your sides where he cupped your chest again. You sat up on him, hands on either side of him as you went faster. Otto thought he might burst right then, but he’s an experienced man who is well trained in patience. 

“Otto,” you cried out, “It…It tingles.”

“It’s supposed to, sweetling,” he moaned. “Would you like to cum now, or do you want to cum together?”

“Together.”

Otto rested you on your back, staying between your thighs as he kissed you again. Able to control the pace, Otto allowed you a short cooling period to gather yourself again, so he pecked along your hips and thighs for the time being. He knew you’d orgasm right away if he let it continue, and he’d normally give it to you. Yet, he wanted your bedding to be special. He didn’t want you looking back on tonight with disappointment or regret or shame. Part of his fantasy was you aching for more, wanting and craving him and his cock. Simply marrying you isn’t enough. He wanted you to want him, so then he could throw it in your father’s face when he uncovers the truth. 

Feeling you relaxed on the bed, he started making his way towards your center once more. “Now, my darling, it is my turn to taste you,” he said against the flesh of your thigh.

"On me? Where?"

"Down here," he looked down at your sex again. 

"People do that?" 

"Some," he replied, rubbing the side of one lip and making you shudder. "I certainly enjoy it. I've been very, very, very," he rested his mouth right over your sex. It glistened, and he smelled that natural aroma that came from your heat, "Eager to kiss yours. Would you like me to do it for you?"

You nodded your approval, and tried staying still for him. His mouth salivated seeing a trickle of wetness there now. Your thighs and abdomen tensed when he rolled his thumb from bottom to top, spreading the sticky substance over your clit. The moment he brushed the small nub, you took a sharp intake. He smirked, and continued rubbing it slowly in circles. He fell in love with your pussy right there and then. Otto rested over your cunt, where he switched from thumb to tongue. The new sensation made you melt underneath him. Your juices coated his tongue, and he tasted your sweetness right away. When you started wriggling around, he buried his tongue further in to focus on your clit specifically. You gasped and your back arched as he lapped your pussy. 

"Otto," you squeaked when he rapidly flicked over your clit, "Otto, oh god, Otto…" 

"I take it my beautiful bride is enjoying my tongue?" He asked, sneering and sucking your clit as he did it. 

"Yes," you nodded, "Please, don't stop."

Otto held you by your thighs and suckled at your pussy. He hummed against you just to hear you moaning his name. Otto looked up to see you massaging your breasts and teasing your nipples, and he groaned. You were the most erotic, sensual being he'd ever seen. He wanted to stay like this until the end of time, making love to you and seeing your naked body. To avoid too much overstimulation so early, Otto stopped kissing your pussy and instead pushed a finger to your entrance. He only had to look up and see your permission before carefully sliding inside. Your walls pulsed around his finger each time he slid in and out, nearly pulling them inside. He kept his thumb circling your clit in time with his gradual pace. Soon, he added a second.

"Is this alright?" He asked you. 

"It feels…different."

"I know," he said, "But do you like it?"

"I do," you nodded. 

"It doesn't hurt?"

"Not too much."

"Good," he pecked your inner thigh, "If it ever hurts, tell me."

You nodded, and let him continue. Otto teased your clit, letting the pad of his thumb circle the bundle while his fingers slunk in and out. He saw how his fingers stretched your hole, and the way your body reacted to his intrusion. Occasionally, he’d relax his thumb and switch to his mouth to suck up the sweet juices spilling from you. When you started pushing yourself to his face, he moved his hand faster. He was sure any guard standing outside would hear you moaning his name while he mercilessly flicked your clit. The mixture of fluids made fingering you easier, and your pussy clenched the digits curling inside you. His fingertips found purchase on the spongy, sensitive spot that made you quake each time he touched it, and he continued going. 

Then, he stopped. Despite your disappointed groaning, your first orgasm would be with him inside you. He didn’t ask if you were ready. He knew you were by how you spread your legs further apart, giving him plenty of space to occupy. He grabbed your ankles and lifted them to your chest. Otto pressed his tip to your entrance, tapping and slapping himself against it for a while, before finally plunging inside you. Your eyes widened, and you yelped from the first penetration. Breathing heavily and grabbing onto his shoulders, he knew he’d done something right. Otto kept a delicate, slow speed, knowing he’s much wider than his fingers and you’d need a minute to adjust to his size. 

“Does it hurt, precious?” he asked you, grunting as he filled you fully now and desperate to pound you. 

“A little,” you admitted, wincing when he entered at a different angle. 

Yes, perhaps your body isn’t ready for certain positions. Otto let go of your ankles and let your legs wrap around him naturally. Holding you close, he kissed you while thrusting carefully into you. 

“Is this better?” he asked you between kisses. 

You nodded, grabbing onto his shoulders and humming softly. Otto wanted to ravage you. He wanted to pin you down and have his way. Every instinct in his screamed to fuck you like a whore, but he refrained. There’d be plenty of time for that down the road. Right now, he was content to hold, kiss, and rock himself into you. He went back to teasing your nipples, knowing you enjoyed him touching them. He did this even as he flipped onto his back with you in his grasp. The new position made you wince, but not for long. Like before, you rolled your hips on his and your moans grew louder. 

Otto let you enjoy yourself on him. He held onto your hips as you experimented with different speeds and angles, finding the ones you liked best and enjoying them thoroughly. You particularly liked the ones where your clit brushed into his pubic bone, but he used his fingers for this whenever you started riding him. Hands on his chest, your moans began matching your bounces and he couldn’t help admiring you. Though, after a time, he noticed you starting to weaken and grow sluggish even with the need to orgasm encouraging you onwards. Otto took hold of you properly, ceasing your movements, and pushing himself into you. 

“How’s that?” he asked breathily, your cunt gripping him tightly and milking him each time. The squishing of fluids between you became more audible, and he almost picked up speed. “Is it better?” 

“Goo-Good,” you mumbled, hanging onto him as he pumped inside you. “Otto, would you…would you…”

“Yes, love?”

“Would you go faster?”

“Faster, hm? You mean like this?” he picked up the pace very slightly, though not enough to hurt you. 

“No, faster.”

“Like this?” He kept a firm grip on you as he bucked his hips faster, the slapping of skin matching the bed knocking into the wall behind him. “You wish for me to have you like this?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

The new angle had you squealing as he rammed himself into your sex. For added pleasure, he rolled his thumb around your swollen clit and another pinching one of your nipples. Your nails dug into his chest, leaving small half-crescents on his skin, and scratches down his front. He knew your climax was coming, since your sex tightened considerably and he thrusted deeper inside. Otto felt his own starting to tighten his muscles, and slowly gained momentum the longer you rode him. He couldn’t stop himself this time. He needed you to cum. He wanted to be the reason you did. 

“Otto, Otto, I’m…I’m…”

“I know, sweetling,” he huffed. “I know. You can. Go on, cum for me…cum on my cock like a good pet and let me fill you with mine.”

And as all good girls do, your orgasm erupted from you. Head thrown back, spine curved and your body shaking in every wave, your first true orgasm filled the room. Mixtures of his name and exclamations fueled his own desire, and he soon followed you. Your tight cunt quivered around his length as he spilled his seed into you, his juices mixing with yours. Otto wished he could bask in the moment, forever hanging in bliss with you. But, like all good things, it ended and you fell on top of him, sweaty and gasping for breath. Otto did not pull out of you until he’d softened completely, helping you onto your back to avoid his semen coming out. He meant it when he said he’d put a child in you. 

Removing the rest of his clothes, Otto slipped you back into his arms and kissed you passionately. His hands gently roamed over your body, while yours did the same to him. Otto felt triumphant. He’d claimed the woman of his dreams and made her his wife. The thought alone had him sliding back into your tightness, pumping you gently from behind on your sides. His fingers spread the cum inside of you over your over-sensitive sex while his cock hardened within you. He gripped your breasts in his hands and teased your nipples. 

“Otto,” you breathed, “It’s so sensitive.”

“I know, darling,” he moaned, sliding out of your pussy and going back in with short thrusts, “But you feel so good. Just let me have you once more, then you can sleep.”

“You can go for as long as you like,” you replied, putting one his hands back on your clit and guiding him over it, “I won’t stop you.”

This encouraged him to keep on going. It took you both longer to finish now that the initial orgasm happened, but it was still as sweet a second time. He couldn’t help himself. Otto spent the night pawing and groping your body; your soft moans aroused him every time, and he enjoyed feasting on your overstimulated sex every time. You returned the favor by sucking on him after the third round, tired but still so needy for him. By the time exhaustion and reason came back over you both, your bodies were planted on the mattress. Otto held you close, kissing you once or twice as you drifted to sleep in his arms. He felt the distinct stickiness between your thighs, and fell asleep imagining Daemon’s face when he learned the truth. 

****

You woke up the next morning in Otto's arms. His light breaths broke the early morning silence, and you counted each one. His warm arms kept you encapsulated against him, and it was strange but oddly good. You liked feeling his hard body pressed to your back, his arms keeping you close and safe. Idly, you ran your own fingers over the light arm hairs, feeling more heat come off his skin. Everything smelled like him. The pillows, the sheets and blankets all carried Otto's light musk, which you inhaled deeply. As the silence continued, you thought about last night. 

A delightful night that felt borderline magical. From the ceremony, to the feast, and to the bedding, you couldn't stop smiling. You'd originally felt hesitant to marry Otto. You knew it'd enrage your father beyond sense if he learned what you'd done. He'd kill you like he'd killed your mother. He had his new wife and daughters now; he did not have use for you. But, when Otto promised he'd protect you as he'd done since you arrived, you believed him. Adding to this safety was your mother’s family. Your Vale relatives rejoiced at the announcement, and all gathered in King’s Landing for the ceremony. Your grandfather, Lord Royce, gave you away in place of your father. He said your mother is watching over you always, and would have approved of this smart match.  

The man currently holding you would never put you in harm's way. He adored you. He loved you. Not as a father might for a daughter, but as a man for a woman. You willingly gave yourself to him because you knew he'd be careful with you. He held you as if you were made of glass, being delicate and gentle with your body. When he broke your maidenhead, you felt safe. You were his now. You were happy with that. 

Some time passed before you slid carefully from Otto's embrace. Last night came back in sore muscles and a slight pain between your legs. You liked it though. It made your bedding much more real to you. You pulled on a chemise and bedrobe when Otto stirred in the bed. 

"Y/N?" You loved how he said your name, so intimately and informal. Titles no longer stood as a barrier anymore. 

"Yes, Otto?" You grinned, immediately returning to the bed in your clothes. 

"Are you well?" He asked, pulling you to him for a prickly kiss. You shuddered remembering that mustache and beard on your naked flesh, and briefly wanting it again. "You are not in too much pain, I hope?"

"There is some, but nothing I cannot handle," you replied, kissing him again. "Last night was the best night of my life."

"And of mine, sweetling."

You rested beside him, arm draped over his stomach and kissed him once more. Running your fingertips over his chest and abdomen, he gave a low rumble and pulled you onto him again. Kissing him deeply, tongues sliding over one another, you gradually grinded against him. Soft whimpers escaped you as your bare sex found his cock once more, sliding over the flaccid shaft under you. Otto’s warm hands went underneath your gown to grasp your bottom, and this time you moaned your pleasure at the touch. Your sex throbbed against his tip, the bulb pressing to your dampening sex over and over. 

“Can I?” you pouted, pecking his lips and whirling your hips to hear him groan. “Please, Otto?”

“Yes…” he breathed, hands gripping your ass, “Yes, please.”

He tugged down the neckline of your dress and fondled both your breasts once more. You moaned at their gentle touch, palms pressing your nipples and fingers kneading the suppleness. The pinching fingers on your nipples made you rock on him desperately, whimpering and whining at the light tingles it brought. Soon, you sensed his cock pulsating under you, and you eased it into your aching sex. Nothing felt as good as being filled by your new husband. You found yourself becoming easily addicted to the sensation. Despite the twinges of pain, you rode Otto. Thighs helping you bounce on his length in short strokes, you felt him immediately pressing into that special spot inside you. Otto continuing to play with your nipples only added to the tightness building in your pussy. It was when he started pushing up into you that you nearly came around him. You never imagined sex being this enjoyable. Alicent told you it hurt. You thought it’d be awful and shameful, but Otto didn’t make it so. You bent forward, giving him access to your breasts and met his hips in the middle. 

“Oh gods…” you moaned, “Otto, don’t stop. It…It feels so-so good…”

“I know, angel,” he grunted, rolling you onto your back so you yelped in surprise. “It will be every time, I promise,” he said, pecking at your lips. 

Pinning your wrists to the bed, your husband ravaged you. You didn’t mind. You submitted your body to him completely. The bed hit the wall behind you each time, drowning out the moans and cries you both released. Your orgasms came sooner than you’d wanted, and Otto’s hot semen spilled inside you once again. You prayed it sunk deep and planted itself in your womb. You’d love nothing more than to have a child of your own; Otto being the father will make it even sweeter. Otto trembled on top of you, lightly kissing your chest and neck before finding your lips. You locked your legs around his waist to keep him buried between your thighs. 

“Let us not leave yet,” you cooed, kissing him back. “Let us stay here and keep doing this. I want nothing else today.”

Otto chuckled against your lips, “We must, I’m afraid. I am Hand of the King. I am needed at his side during meetings.”

“His Grace is a man grown. He can handle affairs without you for one day.” You lifted your chest slightly to push your breasts to him, and said, “Please? If not all day, then a little while longer? I believe I have yet to have my fill of you.”

He paused, considering the request before kissing you, “Did I not fill you enough last night?”

“Not nearly,” you said, putting his hand on your breast, “I don’t want to stop until I’m pregnant with your child.” You then added, “I can imagine nothing would upset my father more than me being pregnant with your child, Otto.”

He hummed against your neck, and laughed, “Have we resorted to scheming to get my attention, love?”

“If that is what it takes,” you smiled, enjoying the warmth and weight of him on top of you. “Please, Otto, stay with me.”

You knew you’d won him over when he rolled his hips into you once more, making you squeak from the sudden movement. “May we at least break our fast?” he asked, “You must be famished after last night.”

“I admit I am.”

“Then I will call for a spread.” 

He kissed you one final time, grabbed his own robe and left the bed. You stayed on the bed, soaking in more of Otto’s scent and warmth, and felt his remnants dripping between your thighs. It had not been a persuasive lie. It was a fact. You did not speak to your father, but you knew he disliked and distrusted Otto. His daughter being married and pregnant by his greatest rival would enrage him. Even if he ignored you. Even if he showed nothing but disdain at the thought of your mother. You’d foiled his plans for a political alliance as well as married into the family he disliked more than your mother’s. He’ll be furious with you. Watching Otto give orders to a maid, you did not care. Let the Rogue Prince throw a temper tantrum if he wishes. Nothing worries you anymore. 

You had Otto, and that was enough for you. 

***

A/N: two people had more or less the same request, so I went ahead and put them together <3 here’s more otto smut. Also, so sorry about the time between postings. I'm currently working on my own novel lately, since I hope to publish soon, but I am gonna try getting through some things on here. Thank you for sticking around lol

#otto hightower #otto x reader #otto x you #otto x yn #otto hightower smut #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagines #hotd fanfic #hotd drabbles

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Would That I

Pairing: Otto Hightower x f!reader Warnings: Smut, age gap, keeping it in the family. Word count: ~1.1k Summary: Otto makes sure his pretty, young wife has absolutely everything she desires. Based on this request.

She is smitten with Otto the moment she lays eyes on him. Arriving in King’s Landing she anticipates a week of uninteresting jousts and tedious formalities, but as she sits in the stands, thoroughly uninterested by the spectacle of the two knights charging towards each other on horseback, her eye is drawn to the Hand of the King. He is older than her by at least three decades, but he is refined, tall and ruggedly handsome. While the potential suitors within the capital are seemingly endless, none of them compare to Otto Hightower

Using every excuse within her arsenal over the coming days, she seizes all opportunities to see and speak to him, and is delighted to find he is every bit as charming as he is handsome. He titters at her jokes and she is enamoured by the way his eyes crinkle as he smiles, the green of his iris appearing to sparkle as he does so. His voice is deep, yet velvety smooth and she hangs on his every word. He is intelligent, diplomatic and sharp as Valyrian steel.

Her desire for him intensifies as the days press on, and emboldened by one too many cups of Dornish red following a feast one evening, she leans forward and presses her lips to his, her heart fluttering as she feels the warmth of his large palm cup her cheek as he returns the gesture.

“I have not felt like this about a woman in years,” He tells her.

She smiles at his words. She has not felt like this about a man ever.

There is no need for her to leave come the end of the week, King’s Landing is now her home, and after a hastily put together ceremony in the Sept, Otto Hightower is her husband.

He surprises her with his virility on their wedding night, wringing peak after peak from her pliant body, leaving her exhausted but with a satisfying ache between her thighs the following morning. Otto spoils her beyond comprehension, she wants for nothing and has the finest of everything; jewels from Lys, gowns of Myrish silk and lace, wines from the Arbor. He is diligent in keeping her sated in every aspect of their marriage.

It is obvious his daughter, Alicent, does not approve, though she does not say it, and who can blame her? She has to admit that she’d be annoyed too if her father chose to marry someone younger than his own daughter.

It is not Alicent’s silent disapproval that bothers her, however, it is how the ladies of the court love to gossip. It is not unusual in Westeros for men to wed women much younger than themselves, yet she finds herself at the center of all manner of prying questions regarding the nature of her marriage to Otto. She supposes it is because of the responsibility he holds as the King’s Hand.

“What is it you see in him?” One bold lady dares to ask.

She bites her lip, considering her answer. She longs to say that it sends a thrill through her body to wait upon her knees for him, gazing up at him as he presses the head of himself past her lips. Such talk would cause a scandal, however, so she gives a tight smile and says that he is tall.

“Surely that can’t be all?”

“No, he is handsome too,” She says wistfully, thinking about how he gazes up at her from between her thighs, the softness of his beard tickling her soft flesh, the sensation causing her to clench around nothing.

“Is he kind to you?”

“Oh, yes, Otto is extraordinarily generous!” There is a particular necklace that Otto insists she wears, with nothing else to accompany it, whenever they are alone in their marital chambers. It sits tight against her throat, adorned with emeralds that gleam in the same shade of green as the Hightower house colours. It likely cost a small fortune, but in his eyes nothing is too good for her, not when he is buried to the hilt inside of her.

“Is that your favourite quality of his?”

“No,” She muses. “I adore his dedication to his family.”

The combined heat from the fireplace and lit candles that sit upon every surface of the bedchamber make the room stiflingly hot. She feels sweat trickle down her neck, disappearing beneath the emerald choker that sits snugly around her neck, every green gemstone glittering in the dim light as she rolls her hips against Otto’s.

His grip on her waist is vice-like, every sensation heightened by warmth, as the length of him nudges against a spot inside of her that makes her tense with every undulation of her body. She feels taut, pulled tighter than a bow string until it eventually snaps, sending her headlong into oblivion, waves of ecstasy rolling through her as she collapses against her husband’s chest, triggering his own release.

His fingers stroke gently over her dampened skin as he holds her close. Already, renewed desire throbs between her legs.

“Are you satisfied, my dear?” Otto asks softly.

“I will never have enough of you, my love,” Comes her playful response.

“That is not quite what I had in mind.”

“Oh?” She lifts her head, eyeing him curiously.

“I have seen the way that you and Aemond look at each other, I am no fool.”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “It is nothing, I can assure you.”

“I do not mind,” He rises from the bed, pulling on a robe. “I wish for my darling wife to be satisfied, to have everything she desires, so I shall make it so.”

He opens the chamber door, uttering “you can come in now” and her eyes widen in disbelief when she sees Otto’s second oldest grandson hovering in the doorway. It seems outrageous to her that he would suggest such a thing, yet she cannot deny the way it makes her pulse race.

“I shall be back in an hour.” Otto informs them both, before leaving.

She is too stunned to speak at first as she takes in the sight of Aemond. He seems stoic and unaffected in his demeanour, until she studies him more carefully. She takes in how his pupil is dilated with lust, the prominent bulge that presses against the lacings of his trousers, and the slight parting of his lips as he struggles to control his excited breaths.

Arranging herself atop the bedspread, she relaxes knowing that he desires her just as much as she desires him. She beckons him to her with a crook of her finger. “Come now, don’t be shy.” He goes to her eagerly.

It is just one of the many perks of being Otto Hightower’s wife. He is nothing if not generous in every aspect of their marriage, and so dedicated to his family.

#otto hightower #otto hightower x reader #otto hightower smut #otto hightower x y/n #otto hightower x you #otto hightower imagine #otto hightower fan fiction #otto hightower fanfiction #otto hightower fanfic #otto hightower fan fic #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd smut #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fic

[laedeviour]

Aemond: I'm not scared of insects, I have a dragon!

Also Aemond: *for real got traumatized when one of Helaena's scorpions were set loose around the castle*

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #ewan mitchell #hotd #alicent hightower #helaegon #helaena x reader #helaena targaryen #helaena the dreamer #aemond x helaena #tom glynn carney #emma darcy #otto hightower #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aemond x reader