Game of Thrones: Imagines and one shots. Book four

In the strangest places - Part 11 - Roose x Reader

(Y/n) made her way through the fort. There was a strange exhilaration that had overtaken her after being able to do what she had done to Ramsay. An exhilaration that was emboldening her. Making her feel brave, confident.

She had never felt that way before; it was hard to feel brave and confident when all her life, her father had treated her as though she were nothing other than a burden. A curse upon his House. When she had had to be weak and quiet to avoid her father's wrath. It hard to be confident, when you were always told that you were never wanted; that you were worthless because you were not a boy; not the son that he had desired more than anything else. And it was true what Ramsay had said, she was naïve; her world had been small, she never allowed to leave her father's castle, never allowed friends, other than the maids that had served her. Her knowledge of the world that lay beyond her rooms and the castle's gardens, coming to her via the copious amounts of books that she would read, and the gossip of the servants. But no more. Yes, Ramsay still scared her; she was sure that he always would, and that despite their conversation, she would still find him sculking in the shadows, watching her; but at least she had a little power now, and she would do as she had promised if he overstepped the mark. She would tell Roose everything, she would weave a tale so terrible, that her husband would have no choice but to kill his bastard son; and a little part of her, she must admit, would like that. That she would like to see fear in the bastard's eyes; the same fear that the young man had probably seen in the eyes of all those that he had hunted, tortured and killed, as he was dragged away, kicking and screaming; begging her to intervene on his behalf. To save him.

"(Y/n)..........?" Roose asked, as she pushed her way into his rooms, without even a knock. The older man pushing back his chair, as his young bride locked the door behind her, and made her way over to him.

Being able to face Ramsay, as she had, had had the strangest effect on her. It had made her ache. It had made her want to find her husband. To have him fuck her, long and hard. The Lady of the Dreadfort sure that she could feel her arousal make its way down the inside of her thigh, as Roose gave her a concerned look.

"(Y/n).......what........?" The rest of her husband's words left unspoken, as she crashed her lips into his. (Y/n) gripping at his leather jerkin, as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. A groan filling Roose's mouth, as he felt her hand rub over his crotch. His manhood stiffening under her firm touch. The Lord of the Dreadfort, not caring what had made his wife come to him like this, just that she had. Roose looking down at her, as she pulled away. A smile coming to his lips, as she pushed him back into his chair, and began to pull at the cords of his breeches.

"(Y/n)..........?"

"I need you Roose. I need you here, now....." (Y/n) simply replied, before pushing the parchments, and ink pot from the top of the table. Black ink seeping into the ancient stones beneath his feet, as the lord watched his young bride climbed atop the desk, placing her legs either side of his, before pulling up her skirts, then taking his hand and placing it to her naked womanhood. A growl making its way from deep inside him, as he felt how wet she was. The lord coating his fingers with her arousal, before bringing them to her lips and tasting her; sure, that nothing tasted sweeter than the woman that only he had touched. The head of House Bolton quickly finishing the job that she had started, by releasing his swollen cock from its confines; (Y/n) moaning, as she watched it spring up, her husband once more coating his fingers her juices, before wetting his already weeping manhood, with them.

"Roose, please............" The lady moaned, releasing her bosom from the bodice, before laying back and opening herself up completely to her husband.

For a moment, he wanted to tease her. To make her squirm; to make her plead and beg for his touch. But she looked so perfect, so beautiful spread out before him. Offering herself up to him. So much so, that he couldn't do anything but give her what she wanted. Roose pushing back his chair, before pulling her legs over his shoulders and lowering his head to her womanhood. His moan, as he tasted her, as lewd as the one that left (Y/n), at the feel of his tongue finding its way inside her. His nose nudging against her sensitive nub. Her hand finding the back of his head and forcing it closer to her. The Lady of the Dreadfort sure that she had never been more aroused than she was, at that moment. The image of Ramsay's shocked look, as she beat him at his own game, mixed with the feel of Roose's tongue and now his fingers, pleasuring her; quickly sending her over the edge. Her first climax only making her want more. For Roose to bury himself inside her and fuck her until she was hoarse from screaming out his name. And that was what she would have.............