Ramsay Bolton - Blog Posts

Grand northern masquerade

Just my thoughts on GoT Battle of the Bastards

Spoilers* Spoilers* Spoilers

On Sansa- At this point in time, I think Sansa doesn’t trust anyone, not even Jon.. Well let’s say she does trust him but not that much. After all that’s happened to her, it’s just difficult to trust someone even if it’s her own brother. I also think she didn’t tell him about the Vale army because she isn’t exactly sure if they will come or not. In addition to that, Jon might change battle plans thereby alerting Ramsay’s camp then they might change plans also. She knows how manipulative Ramsay is.

True, not telling Jon about the possibility of the Vale army coming is a questionable move by Sansa. Some might say she is selfish for sacrificing Rickon, because well that is really selfish. But is it an intelligent move to try rescue him? She knew from the moment she saw shaggydog’s decapitated head that rescuing Rickon is going to be a fruitless effort. Why would Ramsay keep him alive after the battle?

Sansa may be showing that she can play the game but she is still learning. Her moves might not be best. I, myself, don’t think it’s a good idea not to tell Jon about the Vale army or not to pursue saving Rickon, but it is Sansa’s move based on her character.

I hope we see a fitting funeral for Rickon though, or that they show us Sansa crying for the death of her brother just to show us she did not this fully cold hearted person. I hope she would trust Jon more because they need each other now more than ever.

These are just my thoughts though..

That's crazy if you think about it

welcome back thramsay!!!!!🥰🥰😍😍

Just like the rest of their fics…. This is a must read. Highlyyyy recommend. The emotions, the character motivations, the spice... it’s all there. And so much more. Mind the tags, as with most Thramsay:)

It’s been a bit since I posted a fic so I wanted to share my Photographer Ramsay x Model Theon AU 📸🎀

With each shutter click, Theon is sure the photos look worse and worse. “This isn’t working,” he says petulantly, dropping the pose and turning around to face Ramsay.

The photographer lowers the camera, clearly amused if the lopsided grin was anything to go by. “Just try something else then, babe. You’d look great in every position.” The crude remark is punctuated with a look of disconcerting hunger.

Any smile that had a hope of living for the camera died on Theon’s lips.

Through The Woods

A mythology Thramsay fic inspired by this quote;

"Oh, but you must travel through those woods again and again... and you must be lucky to avoid the wolf every time... But the wolf... the wolf only needs enough luck to find you once" — Emily Carroll

Theon’s village is plagued by a creature which lures young women to the forest, never to be seen again. Seeking fame and perhaps a chance to restore his pride, Theon alone ventures out in hopes of conquering this beast. For surely where others failed, he would succeed.

But these woods are not the ones of his youth; these are darker, more sinister. The very air beneath the leaves feels wrong. He finds help in his quest in the form of a man who lives in these woods. A man obviously keeping his own secrets, though what they could be, Theon is yet to find.

He will learn though… What it truly means to hunt. And what is required to guard himself from being hunted.

*Text below the cut. Small mention of a bloody knife.*

It had been perhaps twelve hours since he first set out when Theon felt a presence like a ghost at his back. The air itself seemed to still all of a sudden. There was no wind to cool the sweat on his brow. The density of the trees began to close in around him, their branches reaching down like gnarled fingers, as if hoping to snatch him.

“Need some help?”

Spinning around, his hand reflexively flew to his quiver in the same motion. His fingers stilled, resting atop one of the arrows. He froze, staring. Waiting.

A man stood before him, dressed in fitted black breeches and boots, with a deep red shirt—red like blood—which hung open across his pale chest, seemingly to account for the sheer girth of it. A dark smattering of chest hair trailed up to his throat. The hair on his head was black as night without stars or moon. Black as the shadows behind him. It hung below his broad shoulders.

But his eyes seemed to steal the breath from Theon’s lungs the same as if he had taken a plunge into the shrieking river. They watched him, meeting his stare.

Theon shivered; the bright blue of them glowed in stark contrast to the darkness of the forest. Like fallen stars. Stars that could sear the very flesh from his bones.

As if the man could read his thoughts, his wide lips curled up into the smallest of smiles. He was leaning up against a tree. A casual pose if ever there was one.

Were it not for the blood on his clothes and knife in his hand.

“My sincerest apologies for scaring you.”

The words were considerate enough, but the tone which danced at the edges of them, had Theon’s hackles rising despite the pounding of his heart and suspicion brewing in the back of his mind.

Theon’s arm dropped back to his side, his other gloved hand tightening around the handle of his bow.

“I was not scared,” he huffed, shifting his feet. “I was… startled.”

The smile grew on the other man’s face, exposing glinting white teeth. “Forgive me; my apologies for startling you.”

Where before there was perhaps the hint of mockery, now there was no mistaking it sliming the tone.

Theon glared fiercely. “I wouldn’t be so disrespectful if I were you,”

A dark brow raised. “No disrespect was meant, I assure you.” He pushed off the tree, taking two steps closer. Their proximity brought to light just how much wider and taller he was than Theon; he looked down at him as if observing a particularly interesting rock he had found lying in his path. “But might I inquire as to why you’re above being disrespected?”

The smell of him engulfed Theon like a cloud. A heady mix of spice, wet soil, greasy pork… and a metallic scent that had Theon’s stomach turning.

Theon’s eyes flitted between the knife in his hand and those eager eyes. He swallowed thickly. Suddenly his station in life seemed unimportant and weak when alone in the wilderness.

But no, he was an important person. And this low-life needed to learn just how beneath him he was.

The words somehow came to him as strong and firm as he intended for them to come out. “I’m a lord.”

Something sparked in the other man’s gaze, but it was gone so quickly that Theon almost thought he’d imagined it.

“A lord? Of course, I understand; you deserve your proper respect.” He sheathed his knife, blood and all, inclined his head and grasped his cloak in one hand before giving a small bow.

Yet again, despite the deference the action showed, the tone with which he spoke, even his motions, felt off.

“Indeed,” Theon sniffed, haughty and irritated for reasons he couldn’t fully place.

The man straightened with a playful smile. “Don’t you care to know my name?” He sounded petulant, like a child, despite his prodigious size, which only served to annoy Theon further.

He eyed him in a way that he hoped portrayed his disinterest. “Not particularly.”

The other man’s smile fell. “That’s very rude, you know.” Theon sensed a faint, venomous note

“A lord can afford to be rude to someone beneath his station.” Even as he said that, Theon’s eyes found the knife again. A warning flared to life in the depths of his being, like a candle deep within a cave. His foot inched backward beneath the sharp look of the other man. “What were you doing out here anyway?” He looked back up into the man’s face.

A thin smile met him. “Hunting.”

Selkie Theon AU. Snippet below the cut.

The waves lapped at the shore, mere inches from Theon’s toes. He watched from his place on the beach, arms wrapped around his legs, chin rested on his bony knees, unable to look away from the grey water that stretched serene and peaceful to the horizon. The distant cawing of seabirds echoed across the waves in the early morning. They taunted him with their songs and harsh voices more mocking than that of his master.

Theon pushed that thought far into the back of his worn mind. Now was not the time for thinking of him. Now was not the time to bemoan what might have been. Now was the time for dreaming of what was. When he’d been a selkie.

A frown tightened his lips. He was still a selkie.

Although his pelt may now belong forever to his tormentor—lover—and kept permanently out of his reach, it changed nothing. The place Theon would truly always belong, was to the ocean. His ties to it were strong, the pull of them unbreakable. A constant presence in his being that was as unyielding as the moon and the tide, urging him to find his way back home.

Except he would never be permitted to answer its call.

READ THIS NOW!!! Such a fantastic portrayal of these characters!!🥺😭💗

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy Characters: Theon Greyjoy, Ramsay Bolton Additional Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, Trauma Bonding, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Masturbation, Rape Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Mixed Canon, Self-Esteem Issues, Not Beta Read Summary:

Reek knew he didn’t deserve pleasure, but Ramsay never gave him a choice in the matter. Somehow that thought was comforting.

Just look at this beautiful arttttt. Agh!! Stunning. Everyone should go read The Best Pet by Weeping Eighth on Ao3!!! If you like dog Theon, you’ll love that!!🥺🥹❤️

They are playing twister

Some book Ramsay, I have a sudden urgent to bite his belly

OMG!!! Makes me think of cat boy Ramsay… One of the best aus ever…🥺😍😍

Thramsay warrior cats 😁

I made Ramsay a tortoiseshell so he's either transgender or infertile (your pick)

[ Local Maul - WIP Snippet ]

Um. So uh. I'm writing the Modern AU where Ramsay, Theon and Myssa work at the mall. Myssa's at Hot Topic and the boys are at Spencer's. Here's a snippet of Myssa introducing Jeyne to her morbid fiction game. (Spoiler alert, but Myssa and Jeyne will never be friends in any universe. Sorry not sorry. But I live for their misaligned interactions.)

Myssa nodded towards the Spencer’s, where Mr. Canines’ dirty blond friend was positioning a promotional sign just outside the store’s entrance. His jeans were way too tight and his black long sleeved tee looked like it had seen better days, even from a distance. By how faded it was, she recognized it as the one that had Cthulhu on the front.

“That guy,” she began, staring at him intently while he tripped over the corner of the sign’s metal stand and looked around to see if anyone noticed. “Goes to buy weed from his regular dealer but it’s a setup. Escapes the cops on foot but hops the wrong fence. Two massive dogs defending their yard chase him, bite the shit out of his leg. He’s bleeding, stumbling, jumps the next fence, slips on his own blood and falls into the neighbor’s pool. Only it’s still covered and his weight makes him sink, water flooding in, drowning him kicking and screaming and tangling himself to death.”

“Theon?” Jeyne burst out laughing. “Honestly, you might not be far off.”

Myssa turned her attention back to her coworker. “You know him?”

“Yeah, he’s my best friend’s foster brother. Or, uh, he was. Before he turned eighteen and he got kicked out for stealing Mr. Stark’s beer.” She looked thoughtful and laughed again. “You know, he’s more likely to die from getting too drunk at the river and falling in. Not exciting, but realistic. I mean, hardly anyone has a pool around here.”

Myssa shifted her jaw and grabbed a pen from the counter to jab at the notepad beside the POS. Of course Jeyne would ruin the game by being “realistic” about it. That wasn’t the point at all. That was boring.

“Fine.” Myssa directed her glare at Theon’s back as he headed into the opposite store. “How about he tries to blow himself upside down on his couch. Cums in his throat and aspirates to death on his own jizz.”

“Oh my god, you are vile,” Jeyne said and burst out laughing so hard she slapped her manicured hand on the counter. She nodded furiously, pigtails waving. “Yes. One hundred percent. You have him pegged.”

I can’t handle looking at this for more than a few seconds at a time. Feels too real and I’m simply in awe🥺❤️💗❤️ Look at their art! It is all so beautiful! And TY, TY, TY!!

All bets are off, art from my favorite part of the fic! (All of it’s my fav but this part was good!

Fic by @dauthdaert-the-orchid

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62885251

Hooooooooooly shit. Simply stunning!! No words… Other than… Everyone must read this fic and see this art…!!!!Truly some of the best pieces of art around…🤩😍

Theon humping Ramsays stomach

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59310016/chapters/151263199?view_adult=true

(Love your work gendry! Big love forger and ever on the work 💚🙏🏻

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64633732

(Fic graphic by the amazingly talented @theeironprice ! Thank you, thank you!!)

Word count: 21,383. Rating: Explicit. Less lighthearted than its predecessor, friends. I won’t take offense if it’s not your thing. Mind the tags:) Some text beneath the cut.

Theon’s own brow furrowed as he watched the expression on Ramsay's face change. Where once there was a teasing and arrogant smile, it was replaced with a seemingly thoughtful gaze.

He flinched when rough fingers began to card slowly through his hair. The sensation was far from unpleasant, but it still put him on edge; he leaned away as far as he could into the thick, uncomfortable pillows. But when the tips of those fingers massaged into his temple, he had to bite back the sigh that was halfway up his throat, poised on the back of his tongue.

A thick finger twirled a lock of Theon’s hair around it next to his face. A frown pulled the corners of Ramsay’s lips down. “That’s such an unpleasant word,” he murmured quietly. “It’s disappointing how quick you are to slip that mask back on. Hiding from what you really want but are too cowardly to reach for.” The brush of his nose along the side of Theon’s face made him shudder.

UM. UHHH…… I, like, need this as a whole fic. Like, yesterday. Freaking brilliant.

Au where theon is a pup play/nsfw Twitter account, and Ramsay being the biggest incel gooner, is his biggest fan,so he starts chatting up theon and eventually becomes his master/handler, and theon post about it, proudly shows his collar etc, until after a while he stops posting at all, one of his mutuals and friend, Kyra, notices after two months of inactivity, she DMS him curious, then worried, because Theon doesn't spend longer then and hour away from his phone and he hasn't replied to her, after a week after she starts dming, theons account disappears, she freaks out at first but it's not like she can do much she didn't even know his actual name, and after a while she just figures that maybe theons new master didn't like him posting, so she convinces herself everything is fine and moves on

Based off of this tweet

It’s here!!!!

The forecast is looking lovely today with a 90% chance of a new update on my fic, Ellipsism, tomorrow. Bring an umbrella, it’s raining smut and angst. 

Here’s a preview: 

(text beneath the cut)

It’s a faraway sound, like coming up from underwater, familiar enough to jolt him out of wherever he is, louder, breaking through the surface. 

The door creaks when it opens, even after all those weeks of not being used, that first footfall of what must be a boot on concrete. Theon wonders what the room would look like if he were able to see right now. He’s felt the coldness of it, can only envision the fluorescent lights that would accompany it, the dancing shadow moving across his floor as Ramsay stalks over, approaching him from behind. 

Theon had moved his mattress, turned it over after staining it more with his filth, because if he’s to live down here, alone and forgotten, he might as well move the one thing he was able to. Positioned himself in the corner of the room, because somehow it felt safer there, warmer. Lays with his knees against his chest now, stifling another shiver that creeps along his spine. 

Ramsay steps deliberately slow. 

He’s in a daring mood. 

Feels like the end of a season:(

[ R - Chapter 22 ] Complete!

Here's some closing credit music for this monster of a fic. I'll be over here being emotional. Thank you for going on this journey with me, whether by sharing the links or reading or commenting or cheerleading or any combination there of. What a lovely six month journey this story has been amidst some of the worst mental bullshit my brain has put me through.

acne + scratch marks

Um, my eyes have been blessed this day🥺❤️💝The detail here is astounding and I am so beyond touched and grateful.

from @dauthdaert-the-orchid fic all bets are off!!

I loved the story and it's setting, the descriptions, and god! the characterisation was on point! Definitely a big fan so I thought what can I do to show my love? 🤔

Draw! So I did Ramsay riding his bull, because it was one of my fav parts (and I love drawing animals)

I will not rest until this fic gets its proper due. It is so good!!!🥺💞 If you love Thramsay, this is an absolute must read. And if you just want a good story about characters with questionable morals, spiciness, phenomenal characterization, stellar relationships, relatability and a fantastic premise… This has everything you need. Read it now, you will not be disappointed.

New chapter of my Blockbuster Thramsay AU ‘For Rent’ is up! ⭐️

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59310016/chapters/163471921

I’m not the most jazzed by this fic graphic but I found the Blockbuster employee training manual on the internet archives and I wanted to try and use it 🥺

I’m out of town for a few more days!! But as soon as I’m back I’ll be replying to comments~

Preview:

“You’re home early,” Ramsay comments as the younger man stalks over to the kitchen. The lack of greeting irks him, but interest in Theon being home so early overrides his desire to scold his pet.

A crisp ‘pop’ of a tab punching a hole in a can echoes from the adjacent room, and then Theon returns. Ramsay watches the muscles in his neck squirm as he takes a long, dramatic gulp of his beer. “I got fucking fired.”

Ramsay shoots up and practically skips over to Theon. His sea-blue eyes are brimming with salty tears—if they fall, he doubts he’ll be able to stop himself from licking them up. The redness of his waterline tells him that he’s already shed a few tears on the drive home. Maybe he’d even cried in the store; the mental image delights him.

the sketch from my old blog that i sadly imprisoned

Place Your Bets

There was a soft ‘tsk’ behind him. Theon tensed as, with a quiet grunt, a large body slid on with him. To his horror, a thick arm hooked around his stomach and pulled him flush against the person at his back, the warmth of it drawing forth immediate goosebumps across his flesh.

The knobs of his spine sank into the soft stomach, he felt them vibrate with the rumbling chuckle emanating from the chest behind him. He squirmed in the confinement.

He can’t be serious. Hasn't he mocked me enough tonight? The clear implication that he was incapable of doing this on his own nearly made him combust with the sheer force of his righteous anger.

Even worse, the man’s large metal belt buckle dug into his backside, drawing his attention to how unbearably close they were.

“Get away.” He pushed an elbow back into the other man’s side. It didn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever; he remained unmoved. Theon huffed and quickly gave it up as no use. That didn’t mean he had to take this treatment silently though. “I’m not a child,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Lips at his ear, hair tickling the shell of it. “Then quit acting like one if you don’t want me to treat you like one.”

Theon’s lip curled of its own volition. “It’s not for you to say how I behave or don’t behave.” He hated the hint of truth in Ramsay’s words; he had been acting rather like a child tonight. But like hell was he ever going to admit that.

The arm around him tightened, pushing the air from his lungs. “Mmm,” Ramsay hummed, rubbing his other large hand down Theon’s arm. “Maybe not yet. But from that pitiful performance earlier, I think it’s obvious you need some guidance.”

Theon felt his stomach quiver at his use of the word ‘pitiful’; nearly everyone in his life had slung that descriptor at him at one point or another. But he refused to give in so easily here and now. “I can ride,” he snapped.

“Really?” There was an obvious smile in the other man’s voice. His tone dropped in register, breath ghosting across the back of his neck. “Then show me.”

Dog Hybrid Theon fic.

Title: Adopt Me.

Give it a read if you feel like.

Thank you endlessly to @theeironprice for this incredible fic graphic, AND the prompt!! (And you should definitely check out their fic in this collection: Spoil Me, if you haven’t yet, and give it all the love! We need more of it!!)

Adopt Me: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63158356

Spoil Me: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63158908

It was so so soo good… Heed the tags, but absolutely give it a read, k?

[ Plush - Dog Toys part 2 ]

Ramsay has a very special Valentine's Day gift for his "dog" Reek. [ Part 1 - Creep ] aka How Theon's Dick Got Him In This Hot Horrific Mess

Word Count:.. too long..:10811. Title: “All Bets Are Off.” (Thank you for the title and the fic graphic, @theeironprice!! You’re the absolute bestest!!) Modern AU, Rodeo Thramsay. It’s Thramsay… but they’re both competing in a rodeo. The most lighthearted I have ever written… but it’s still Thramsay. Rating: Explicit. For downright raunchiness. Link if you wanna see where this strange tale takes us: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/62885251"

Theon examined the bottom of Smiler’s hoof with a practiced eye. The frog looked well-formed still, his flare of thrush seeming to have receded fully after the regular treatments.

Smiler shifted against his shoulder, strong muscles quivering beneath smooth, sleek hair.

“Easy,” Theon soothed, reaching to run a hand across the underside of his horse’s stomach in hopes of comforting him. “Almost done.”

Before he could even reach for his hoof pick, a harsh, stinging smack to his right ass cheek nearly had him sprawled face-first into the dung-covered dirt.

He dropped Smiler’s foot abruptly in a way he never normally would, but the force of the slap, even through his riding breeches, had him staggering forward with a yelp.

With his left hand braced on his horse’s flank, he quickly regained his balance. He stood motionless for a moment in stunned disbelief and resolved that whoever had the nerve to do that, had approximately three seconds to cobble together a fantastic reason, before his fist made its connection with their face.

“Need some help?” A voice all but purred from close behind him.

Wait… he knew that voice.

Shit fucker.

He turned around and sure enough, Ramsay Bolton. Clad in his blue jeans, rough leather chaps and light pink button-up shirt. Half the buttons were left open showcasing thick dark hair painted across his broad chest. Long, black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. A signature teasing smirk curling half of his thick lips.

Theon fought to stifle his groan. He had gotten his hopes up that Ramsay wouldn’t be at this rodeo- he hadn’t seen his name on any of the sign-in sheets.

“What are you doing here?”

Ramsay raised his brows, his expression sardonic. “Well, you may be aware that this is a competition, and I happen to be a top competitor in it.”

“I mean harassing me in my horse’s stall, obviously,” Theon snapped, irritation thick in his tone.

The larger man put on an exaggerated, faux-wounded expression and placed a hand on his chest. “‘Harassing’? I only came to wish you luck.”

“Well, you have now, so goodbye.” Theon made a point to turn his back, pick up a curry comb and start brushing the dirt off Smiler. It was pointless; he took immaculate care of him and nary a speck of dust could be brought up. He just needed something to occupy himself with and make it look like he was busy.

He jumped and dropped the comb when a large hand cupped his ass, spanning almost all the way across the entirety of it. Fingers dug into his flesh, kneading, and bringing a throbbing warmth to the sore, abused cheek.

Theon shied away, pulling free of the grip and turning a glare on Ramsay. “Don’t touch me.”

The other man cocked his head, an amused, if slightly incredulous look on his face. “We’ve fucked, and you have a problem with me touching your ass?”

“First of all,” Theon said, drawing himself up with as much dignity as he could muster, “we fucked once, and it was only because I was drunk, and you took advantage.” He walked over to his black English saddle with gold accents, hefting it easily. “It hurt to take a shit for a week after, in case you were wondering.” Ignoring the other man’s snicker at that, he tossed the saddle onto Smiler’s back and began fastening the girth and breast collar. “Second,” he purposely kept his back to Ramsay, “you didn’t just ‘touch,’ you hit me.”

“It was a love-tap.”

“It. Hurt,” Theon grit out.

“Aw, want me to kiss it better?” He sounded far too eager for that; Theon could picture his eyes lighting up.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Your loss,” Ramsay hummed.

a fictional man: *is kinda fucked up*

me: i want him so bad

because posting on Instagram doesn’t feel safe from judgment, here’s my drawing of my favorite bastard, Ramsay <3

Theon examined the bottom of Smiler’s hoof with a practiced eye. The frog looked well-formed still, his flare of thrush seeming to have receded fully after the regular treatments.

Smiler shifted against his shoulder, strong muscles quivering beneath smooth, sleek hair.

“Easy,” Theon soothed, reaching to run a hand across the underside of his horse’s stomach in hopes of comforting him. “Almost done.”

Before he could even reach for his hoof pick, a harsh, stinging smack to his right ass cheek nearly had him sprawled face-first into the dung-covered dirt.

He dropped Smiler’s foot abruptly in a way he never normally would, but the force of the slap, even through his riding breeches, had him staggering forward with a yelp.

With his left hand braced on his horse’s flank, he quickly regained his balance. He stood motionless for a moment, and resolved that whoever had the nerve to do that, had approximately three seconds to come up with a fantastic reason, before his fist met their face.

“Need some help?” A voice all but purred from close behind him.

Wait… he knew that voice.

Shit fucker.

He turned around and sure enough; Ramsay Bolton. Clad in his blue jeans, rough leather chaps and light pink button up shirt. Half the buttons were left open showcasing thick dark hair painted across his broad chest. Long, black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. A signature teasing smirk curling half of his thick lips.

Theon fought to stifle his groan. He’d gotten his hopes up that Ramsay wouldn’t be at this rodeo- he hadn’t seen his name on any of the sign-in sheets.

“What are you doing here?”

Ramsay raised his brows, his expression sardonic. “Well, you may be aware that this is a competition, and I happen to be a top competitor in it.”

“I mean harassing me in my horse’s stall, obviously,” Theon snapped, irritation thick in his tone.

The larger man put on an exaggerated, faux-wounded expression. “‘Harassing’? I only came to wish you luck.”

“Well, you did, so goodbye.” Theon made a point to turn his back, pick up a curry comb and start brushing the dirt off of Smiler’s back. It was pointless; he took immaculate care of him and nary a speck of dust could be brought up. He just needed something to occupy himself with and make it look like he was busy.

He jumped and dropped the comb when a large hand cupped his ass, spanning almost all the way across the entirety of it. Fingers dug into his flesh, kneading and bringing a throbbing warmth to the sore, abused cheek.

Theon shied away, pulling free of the grip and turning a glare on Ramsay. “Don’t touch me.”

The other man cocked his head, an amused, if slightly incredulous look on his face. “We’ve fucked, and you have a problem with me touching your ass?”

“First of all,” Theon said, drawing himself up with as much dignity as he could muster, “we fucked once, and it was only because I was drunk and you took advantage.” He walked over to his black English saddle with gold accents, hefting it easily. “It hurt to take a shit for a week, in case you were wondering.” Ignoring the other man’s snicker at that, he tossed the saddle onto Smiler’s back and began fastening the girth and breast collar. “Second,” he purposely kept his back to Ramsay, “you didn’t just ‘touch’, you hit me.”

“It was a love-tap.”

“It. Hurt,” Theon grit out.

“Aw, want me to kiss it better?” He sounded far too eager for that; Theon could picture his eyes lighting up.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Your loss,” Ramsay hummed.