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bonkbobl · 1 month

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happy to please

ROOSE BOLTON X READER

a/n: this is set before anything bad happens in the show, maybe like early season 1 or even before. i know in the books there was domeric and i considered mentioning ramsays kinslaying but decided to just go with the show, which, my impression is that domeric just never existed and ramsay grew up at the dreadfort being cared for by roose. this fic comes from the book quote about him growing fond of walda bc she actually liked sex with him and buddy never experienced the loving touch of a woman with his past two wives

summary: roose bolton had two wives before you. so he thought he knew what to expect during the bedding but nothing could have prepared him for those sweet little noises and the way you writhed

warning: smut!!! roose bolton is very awkward and not very romantic, forced marriage but once you see roose irl you're like oh... wait guys hes kind of hot nvm im down

It was high time the Lord of the Dreadfort took another wife to try for more heirs. A bastard born to a Millers Wife was hardly a suitable option. The goal-driven Lord Bolton wanted a speedy affair and not too much fuss about it. When word was sent out that the “Dreadlord” was seeking a hand in marriage, the response was not sparse.

Several offers to meet Northern Lords’ “most beautiful” daughters landed on Roose Boltons desk. But Roose didnt want the fuss that came with that. There was no need to fret about which girl was the most desireable, only which prospect bred the most advantage.

You came from a semi prominent house, a large advantage was the fact that you had no siblings to succeed you and your uncles were all bordering on geriatric. Because of this, your father was eager to broker a marriage between you and any Lord to start producing more options for the succession of your house — you came with a heavy dowry.

All negotiations occurred on paper and before you’d learn anything about your husband, your father has your servants packing your belongings up into carriages. You were on your way to the Dreadfort

Dreadful name for a castle, you thought to yourself. Perhaps that set the tone for the marriage. You should expect nothing but that —dread.

The entire journey, you did not utter a word to your father, so upset that he’d gone behind your back to do this. You had been stubborn, growing up. You’d met several Lords from minor houses through the years and you turned all of them away.

They weren't handsome enough, weren't noble enough, weren't gentle enough, weren't firm enough. That one was too loud, too annoying, to full of himself, not sure enough of himself, too meek, too weak. There was always something. But you were never forced to. Not until now.

Perhaps it was the fact that your father finally listened to the whispers of those around him, telling him that if he doesnt marry you off soon, no lord would want an old bride. You think thats most likely. Theres also the fact that House Bolton was an extremely powerful house, your liege lord for centuries. They stood only beneath the Starks and the Crown.

When you stepped down from the carriage to greet your husband to be, you steeled yourself. You didn't know what to expect. You knew he was around your father’s age, which wasn't exactly a comfort.

But you met his cold eyes, your expression softened considerably. Your father had grown plump with unkempt hair on his chin. It was patchy and uneasy to look upon. His hair was also receding quickly as the years passed.

The years were kinder to Lord Bolton.

Giving a curtsy, you surrendered to his examination of you, suddenly feeling nervous. You found yourself hoping he liked what he saw because well… Lord Bolton, you think, immediately appears to be, well, lordly. He looks physically fit, cleanshaven, intimidating features. His stare was hard on you, and you almost shied away thinking he was, in fact, unhappy with you, but glancing back, you realized that he may be one of those men with a permanent hardness to their stare.

You mainly hope he isn’t cruel to you.

Lord Bolton nodded, then spoke, “My lady.” Taking your hand and pressing a courteous kiss to it, he continued, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You swallowed, trying your best to keep your gaze even. His voice was so smooth and deep… The kind of voice that you’d want reading to you in the darkness at night.

He’s everything you think a man should be, in appearances. The boys who wanted your hand in marriage would stumble about their words and it was endearing in their own right, but here, under his lordly gaze, you felt more willing to you resign yourself under his protection.

“Happy to please you, my lord,” You said softly, curtsying.

Roose’s eyes looked you up and down for what felt like the millionth time but he couldn’t really help it. He hadn't expected you to be the beauty you were — that wasn’t why he was marrying you — but he got lucky, it seems. You were a shy thing, barely able to meet his eyes.

Roose looked at your father, standing far away from you, awkwardly staring out into the wind and avoiding engagement. It wasn't difficult for him to make out that perhaps you might be unhappy to be here. If theres anything he can recognize, its a tense familial atmosphere.

But he watched you smile and speak your courtesies, sweet and polite. Yes, you would do just fine. You were perfect, he’d even dare to say, he was delighted by you.

You would make him rich, and it seemed like you had enough understanding and commitment to duty to not make a fuss about anything that may be unpleasant to you. He just hopes you’re fertile so that he doesn’t have to pain you unnecessarily with too many attempts.

“I’d like you to meet my son, Ramsay,” He brought his son forward.

You smiled politely at him and allowed him to kiss your hand, “My lord, it’s lovely to meet you.” You hoped it didn’t show that you were a little wary of Ramsay. It was hard to ignore the rumors of the Bastard at the Dreadfort. But you’re happy that you are not to be his or his fathers enemy.

“As it is for me to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

Roose allowed a smile and began directing you to your handmaidens, who would lead you to your temporary room.

As far as first meetings go, it might have been awkward but it wasn’t completely unbearable. You’re grateful for it.

—————

When it came time to wed him, Roose made it clear that there was to be no bedding ceremony, and you let yourself relax, smiling to yourself gratefully. It was a tradition spreading all the way from the Wall to Dorne, but you really didnt know why. The thought of being stripped and groped by all the men in the room rained dread upon you.

Instead of being carried to your room by many men, you were led there by your husband, who you were growing more fond of in each moment. Sure you barely knew him, but he was handsome enough.

Not just handsome enough, you’d say that if there was to be a ball with all the Northern men and women, you would have stared at him in the corner of your eye all night hoping he’d approach you. He reminded you of those scenarios that you’d read about only in books.

He also seemed to be respectable and a gentleman, which comforts you greatly. The fact that he chose to forego the bedding was something you hadn’t expected but it certainly made you more amenable to whats to come.

It started sort of mechanically and passive. Your husband poured you a cup of wine for your nerves, and you exchanged some words about the ceremony and he watched you drink it.

Then when he deemed you relaxed enough Roose asked, “Did your septa teach you about what happens during bedding?”

You nodded, “My septa, yes. And I had read a book once that contained some details that she had left out, so I actually know more than many would assume,” You rambled out.

Roose tilted his head questioningly but gave an amused sigh and a nod.

It was true, you did read a lot. And one of those books included a scandalous romp between the main character, a man, and a whore. Your father found you reading that and burned the book but he couldn’t burn it out of your memory.

It was part of why you might have had such a high standard for the men who had approached for your hand. The men in the books were confident but not arrogant. They could please their women properly because they knew what they were doing but also knew to listen. They were powerful. Possessing a subtle dominance that was too nuanced for younger men to understand.

Roose exuded dominance. This brand of dominance.

It excited you just as much as the memory of those pages.

“Good,” He said, “Then I have little explaining that I must do.”

You watched him stand and offer his hand to you again and you took it, letting him help you up and to the bed.

Roose couldn’t really understand it, but he identified nerves stirring inside him at the thought of bedding you. Its been a long time since he’s taken any wife to bed and he is aware that most of the time, its only really pleasurable for men.

His past two wives would lay there, passive and unmoving, waiting for him to have his fill before quickly getting up to clean themselves.

He really intended to make this as easy for you as possible and wait a week to try again. After that, perhaps he’d take you every few days until you came to be with child. Ever methodical about everything, of course he thought of how to go about this.

Roose helped you with your dress, coming up behind to aid in unlacing it. Meanwhile, you busied yourself with taking out the pins that had been keeping your hair up.

You wanted to be comfortable, Roose was pleased to note. He was glad to know you were thinking of your comfort. Making this as easy as possible. You were a girl who understood what needed to be done, a good quality to have in a wife.

His past wives understood to an extent, as well, but not without at least a little bit of whining and whinging.

With your hair undone and your dress unlaced, you took it upon yourself to shrug it off your shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Roose watched you, gracefully doing your duty, a small smile coming to him.

You surprised him quite a bit, actually. Especially when you turned to him, a little shy about your exposure, but confident enough to pull him in by his collar and kiss him for the first time.

Your lips moved shyly against his, and Roose returned your gentleness. Each thing you did made him ever more curious about you. The two of you continued to mold your lips to each others as he worked on disrobing himself. He could sense the hesitation and curiosity behind your lips movements.

All the better. He'll let you do as you needed to feel more comfortable.

Very quickly, Roose had taken off all his clothes and the moment you realized your husband was bare and ready to finally take you, you parted from him. His eyes opened slowly to see you staring up at him with those big eyes and he held your gaze as you edged backward onto the bed, situating yourself at the edge of it. Then you laid yourself down, splayed out for him.

Roose watched you get ready for him, wondering what he did to score so lucky with such a sweet, innocent, eager little wife.

He pressed the tip of his length to your slit. The edges of your pussy lips were dry but as he moved the head of his cock through your folds, some moisture coated him. Roose paused because you mewled and turned your face to the side, eyes closed, hands bunching into fists in your sheets.

His cock twitched against you as he watched, something that hasnt happened since Roose was a teenager with his first wife.

It moved him to push inside. He watched your lips part with heavy breaths, eyebrows coming together as your breaths turned into soft whimpers. He had to pull out after a certain point and push back in, further. You whimpered, grasping the sheets harder.

Roose found himself completely and utterly hypnotized by you, watching your face, turned to the side, eyes pinched shut, gently chewing your bottom lip.

“You’re very reactive,” He muttered, catching your attention.

You turned back to look at him over your rising and falling chest and giggled, running your hand over your forehead, “Yeah, I… Nothing has ever been inside like this so... I’m reacting.” A coil in your stomach twisted as he pushed even deeper and your lips puckered, letting out an "Ooh..."

Roose chuckled at the first sign of a little bit of sass in his wife, amused at your playfulness during what most would deem to be a serious moment. Roose typically disliked those who cracked unnecessary jokes in inappropriate moments, but somehow it seemed appropriate in this moment.

Your hand came down to grab his and you guided it to your thigh. You felt your husband bottom out inside you after not too much struggle or pain and you laid there happily. You were happy to take his gentle thrusts. Your cunt grew wetter and sloppier as he fucked you.

He filled you well, and it felt good to be full like this. You wanted him to touch you… You wanted him to move more. Faster, harder. You just wanted more of him.

You breathed a heavy sigh, squeezing around him, trying to coax him into moving in you.

“Roose,” You whined, squirming beneath him. Your legs came to wrap around him and guide his movements in you.

Your husband gasped at your shameless neediness, responding quickly to your coaxing movements. You felt like heaven, squeezing so tight around him. But it wasn’t just the pure sensation of a cunt enveloping him it was the fact that your heel remained pressed against his lower back, pulling him toward you. It was the fact that little whimpers kept tumbling out of you, meanwhile you hid your face as if you couldn’t keep them in. It was his name, falling from your lips, in between the whimpers.

And then you whimpered, “Harder.”

An appreciative hum rumbled in Roose's chest, his eyes focusing even harder on you. You shuddered to look at him. His smolder could easily be mistaken for a glare and you'd hate to be a man in any other situation, on the receiving end of such a look.

Here, it just made you more excited.

You cried a loud, unrestrained moan when he gave a sharp thrust, his cock angled upward and hitting a deep spot within you. When his cock touched that spot, it felt as if a little burst of pleasure had come from it and melted into the rest of your body, the coil in your tummy tightening deliciously.

His pace slowly increased, as did your pleasure. You writhed beneath him... At times it almost felt like pleasure was too much, like you were about to tip off some edge, and you had no idea what could be found once you made it over that edge other than just even more, blinding pleasure. You didn't even know if you could take it.

But you had nowhere to run. So if you had to find out what was waiting for you over that edge, so be it. You fought to hold your legs open as much as possible but your thighs would sometimes beg to close, unused to the intense stimulation. And most of the time, you kept your eyes closed and your face turned to the side.

Roose stared down at you, burying himself in you over. And over. Watching as each time you had to succumb and give yourself away to the sensations. It sparked something primal inside him, and truly for the first time he felt an animal-like instinct that often came to be the failing of many great, even-minded men.

He felt lust. Inspired by the image of your body tightening and twitching as he plunged himself deep into you.

Grabbing your waist, he fucked you faster, snapping his hips at a faster speed while he used his strength to pull your pliant body into his.

It wracked your body from head to toe, a long, loud whine, pulled from your throat, enunciated by each meeting of his balls against your ass. Your hands shot up to grasp to anything you could find on the bed but all it found were more sheets. You buried your face in the soft flesh of your arms.

Roose slowed and gave you some hard, defined thrusts, grunting as he did so. You cried out each time and then managed to blink your eyes open and look at him, eyebrows still knitted together, hair a tangled mess under you, and your lips red and wet from your chewing on them all the time.

And then your husband rediscovered the energy to plow into you again.

You held your tits this time, to keep them from bouncing uncomfortably.

He growled, adjusting so that your legs were put over his shoulder before continuing. That felt amazing. But even more amazing was that he decided it wasn't enough, climbing on the bed and pushing you further up on it. He maneuvered his leg, planting a foot next to your side.

That. That had you crying out, damn near sobbing. At least, you wouldn't be surprised if anyone passed your room and mistook it for that.

Soon your body was twitching uncontrollably under him and Roose was sighing loudly, shocked by just how tight your cunt was gripping onto him. Your moans grew weaker and breathier and your body tensed to a peak before you seemingly began to come down from it.

Your breaths remained heavy as you attempted to catch yourself, small aftershocks of convulsions and shaking taking you. He was still fucking you just as hard and your body was oversensitive to the stimulation.

But thankfully you didn't have to endure the pleasurable torture too much longer. Roose released you with a few hard thrusts and deep groans.

He stilled in you and dropped his head in exhaustion, staying buried deep inside, as he attempted to catch his breath and recover and you stared at him, also trying to catch up with yourself.

You lowered your legs to the side though and in the process, his penis slipped out of you, quickly softening. You don't know what possessed you to do so, because there was really no need to, but you brought a hand up to your husbands face and moved it so you could stare into his eyes.

His soft, exhausted eyes met you, the strong hardened exterior that you saw on him at your first meeting, melted off.

Cautiously, you closed the distance, molding your lips to his again.

Roose kissed back fervently this time, no longer hesitant and letting you take the lead. His domineering hand coming behind to cradle your face.

Your eagerness had surprised him in the beginning. But once he'd entered you, it was as if a switch had turned on for both of you. He'd expected you to bravely take on the duty that all women had to endure but he'd never expected you to take to it so well, craving more, wanting him.

Roose had never been the type of man to think about, much less want to be wanted. But his cock nearly twitched back to life, remembering. You pulled him in with your legs, asked him to fuck you harder, you came, and even afterwards, you wanted more.

When your lips finally parted, he stared, evaluating you with a new lense, a lense of true fondness. It was something that — Roose wouldn't ever dare say out loud but — it was something that could even develop into something deeper than a vague fondness or physical attraction. Something like love.

You pressed one last chaste kiss to him and smiled widely, asking, "Is that what every night will be like?" You asked, "If so I think you'll make me a very happy lady."

Roose couldn't think of a proper, clearly worded answer, so he just pressed his lips to yours again, hungrily. A very happy lady indeed. And he'll be happy to see you happy.

#roose bolton x reader

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