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ramsayxme · 5 months

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Chapter One / Chapter Two / AO3 Link

Authors Note: TW- forced sex, forced oral sex, slight violence, Ramsay things, abandonment, etc etc.

Chapter Three: Your Reward

You finished your bath alone. A servant came in to add wood to the fire, allowing you to have promised warmth for the night. The water grew cold as you soaked, hoping and praying to the Gods that the water would cleanse you of his touch. When the water was finally as cold as the air, you pulled yourself out and slumped in front of the fire, pulling your knees to your chest. You hadn't been given another nightgown. You wrapped a pelt around your shivering and damp body as you allowed yourself to air dry in front of the fire.

Once you dried, you padded naked to the door. You knocked aggressively. "Can I get some clothes?" You yelled. A man was on the other side, keeping watch of your door, and he hollered back to you in a gruff voice. "Lord Ramsay has not delivered any clothes for his prisoner." You huffed, slightly annoyed. You walked over to your bed and laid down, covering yourself with the blankets. It was nearly impossible to tell what time of day it was here, your tiny window only ever showed overcast snowy skies.

You closed your eyes, exhausted from the last 48 hours, and wanted to attempt to get some sleep while Ramsay was likely on a hunt or doing whatever it was that evil Lord's did during the day. You closed your eyes, and drifted to sleep.

******************************

You stirred, waking up. Your room was nearly pitch dark, the fire completely dead. The only light you could focus on was the lit candles on your small table. You jumped, realizing that Ramsay was sitting at the chair next to your table, staring at you as you woke up. He had a wine cup in front of him, no doubt full to the brim. He had no expression on his face as he stared at you. You closed your eyes again, hoping that he wasn't really there and you were imagining things.

"I brought you the clothes you asked for." Ramsay's voice echoed in your room, breaking the silence. You groaned, your body was aching. You opened your eyes to look at Ramsay. "Thank you...M'lord." You whispered as you sat up in bed, making sure the blankets stayed over your naked skin. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" He asked you. You gingerly rubbed your face, softly allowing your brain to turn on again. "No, Rams- My Lord. I don't know." He chuckled. "You slept all day and all night. You poor, tired thing." He suddenly stood up, the chair scooting loudly.

You believed him. You had been so exhausted, you could imagine yourself sleeping that long. "I'm sorry, My Lord, I was very tired." You watched him intently as he walked over to your bed, sitting on the foot of it. "It's quite alright. I forgive you." He smiled, his eyes strangely calm. You didn't understand his dynamic, one minute he was angry at you and the next, loving and soft. He leaned forward towards you, and whispered, "I missed you yesterday. I came by last night but I saw how deeply you were sleeping. I didn't want to..." his eyes rolled around their sockets, searching for the right words. "...disturb you."

You forced a gentle smile. "Well, thank you for that. I needed the rest. That was... very kind of you." Ramsay chuckled, placing his hand on top of your leg over the blankets. "Kindness is what I am known for, My Lady." You weren't sure what to do, so you just softly smiled at him. He stood up and walked to the window, staring outside. "You deserve a reward, you see." He began.

"Last night after I visited and then left, the servant who was in charge of locking the door seemed to have forgotten his duties. Your door went unlocked all night long as you slept!" He exclaimed. Your heart sank. You could've escaped. You mentally scolded yourself for not being more vigilant. "But! Don't you worry, I took care of him. He won't be guarding your door any longer... come and see!" He beckoned you with his hand. You slid off the bed, dragging the blankets on the floor behind you, still covering your body.

You reached the window and Ramsay draped his arm over your shoulders, pressing his cheek against yours. "Look, there." He pointed outside. Your eyes followed the imaginary line until you saw it. Hanging on a wooden platform, there was the bloody and fully exposed muscular system of what was once a man. You gasped and looked away, burying your face into Ramsay's shoulder. He chuckled. "Aww, you are so innocent. That was the man that failed to lock the door, you see? I could've done that to you when you tried to run away. But, I showed you mercy." He cooed into your ear, his free hand playing with your hair.

"Are you ready for your reward?" He asked, using his index finger to tilt your chin up to look at him. "Are you going to flay me?" You asked, lower lip trembling. Ramsay smiled empathetically and cradled your face with his hand. "No of course not. Your reward isn't being flayed, silly girl. Your reward is pleasure." You stiffened, unsure of what he was alluding to. "Go, lay on the bed." He pointed towards your bed. You reluctantly made your way and laid down, burrowing under the covers. Ramsay began unlacing his shirt as he approached you. You prepared yourself to be used once again by him, and a knot formed in your stomach.

You closed your eyes, listening to Ramsay's leather fall to the floor along with his trousers and the clatter of his knives. You felt the weight on the bed as he climbed on top of you. You opened your eyes, expecting his face to be in front of you, but it wasn't. You saw him lifting the covers at the foot of the bed, and crawling head first in. "Let me please you." You heard him say under the blankets. Your body stiffened as you felt his shoulders between your ankles, and then up to your thighs.

He pushed your knees up, resting your thighs on his shoulders. You clamped your legs together, but Ramsay softly spread them. You felt your stomach churn, but this time, it wasn't with anxiety. You felt your core warm up as he began kissing your inner thighs softly, gently sucking as his lips grazed your skin. You held your breath as his hands traveled up, squeezing your breast softly, rubbing his thumb over your nipples. You whined, your body at war with itself. Ramsay was coaxing you gently with kisses, begging you to relax as he kissed as high as he could on your thighs.

You exhaled a moan as his lips met your wet cunt, kissing and sucking gently. He hummed with delight as he felt you were already wet for him. He gripped your thighs with his hands as he pulled your legs apart, allowing him full access to your most sensitive area. "Ramsay I-" You tried to say, but were cut off by your own gasping as he swirled his tongue around your clit. He was very good at this, which was making your body go into a pleasure induced swim even if you didn't want it to.

He continued to kiss your folds, his tongue snaking inside you as his nose pressed against you perfectly. You allowed your eyes to close as you sank deeper into his trance. You reached under the blankets and started swirling your fingers in his curls, gently gripping at his hair. He groaned as you did so, causing vibrations to gently tickle you as he licked. Your grip on his hair tightened as he licked faster and more passionately. "Doesn't that feel good?" He groaned, his lips grazing your clit. You moaned in response because unfortunately, it did.

You had never been eaten out before, but Ramsay definitely knew what he was doing. Your body was shivering under his touch, a flick of the tongue was enough to send a rolling wave of lust over you. You wanted him badly. You tugged at his hair and lifted the covers. "Ramsay, I want-" He reached up and covered your mouth with his hand. You whined into his hand as he silenced you, his other hand made its way down to your core.

"I know what you want." He whispered while pushing two of his fingers deep inside you. You lifted your hips, begging for more. He slowly slid his fingers in and out of you, the slow pace driving you crazy. Your hips began grinding on his fingers as he kept kissing your clit. You felt yourself climbing towards orgasm, and Ramsay could tell. He read it on your face. He pulled himself up, and his fingers slid out of you completely. Ramsay lie down next to you on the bed and he put one of his toned arms behind his head.

He grinned at you, his face slick with your arousal as he grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked you down to his waist. You immediately took his hard cock in your mouth. "That's right, good girl." He groaned as you began allowing his cock to fill your throat. You bobbed your head slowly up and down on his length, you couldn't quite fit all of it in your throat without gagging. Ramsay seemed to enjoy the gagging, though. You felt his hands on the back of your head as he applied pressure, pushing your face down on his cock.

You groaned, gagging on him. He exhaled loudly as you gagged around him, your throat contracting on his twitching cock. "Ahh, that feels so good..." His voice was raspy and low. You wanted him inside you. At this moment, you didn't care that he had flayed a man earlier today just for fun. You didn't care that he would probably hurt you within the next hour. You didn't care that he was Ramsay Bolton.

You pushed yourself up, Ramsay staring at you wide eyed. You quickly straddled him, his cock soaking wet with your spit. He chuckled as he saw the desperation in your eyes. "You want me badly, don't you?" He reached out, squeezing your hips. You nodded, whining as you rocked back and forth on his lap, his cock nudging at your entrance. "Take me then. After all, this is your reward."

Ramsay kept kneading at your hips and thighs as you guided his cock inside you. Your body was sent into a euphoric state as he filled you, moaning loudly as your walls stretched to accommodate him. Ramsay was watching you intently as you filled with pleasure, his eyes wide and tracking your face as you slid up and down. Sweat began forming on his forehead and on you as well. Your legs were already so sore from everything you had been through and he noticed you struggling to keep a decent pace.

Ramsay smiled, flipping you over so he was on top. "I'll take care of you, you just enjoy your reward..." he began thrusting into you. Your eyes rolled back as you allowed him to fuck you at his own pace. You didn't realize how badly you wanted him until now. You dug your fingernails into his back as he thrusted, groaning while you dug them in deep. You felt the warmth of your orgasm approaching as he continued to keep the pace. You started to tip over the edge, spilling over and flooding with pleasure. Ramsay didn't slow as he fucked you through your orgasm.

You were panting, aching, and trembling as Ramsay pulled out of you and threw you to the floor by your hair. You slammed onto the ground hard and looked up at him, your body and mind spinning from being so full of pleasure to suddenly thrown on the floor. Ramsay stepped forward, his cock dripping from being inside you. He grabbed your hair and lifted you to your knees, forcing his cock into your mouth. You didn't have the strength or energy to fight back as he fucked your face.

You barely had caught your breath before his cock was in your throat and you were gagging on him again. He groaned words to you, but you were in such a haze that you didn't understand them. He let go of your hair and you fell to the floor, leaving his cock unattended. He growled angrily as he lifted you up and threw you on the bed face first. He slammed his hand down, smacking your ass cheek so hard you let out a shriek. "I said bend over!" He barked. You must've not heard him the first time, as you positioned yourself on the edge of the bed.

His hands grabbed your hips and he fucked you from behind, slamming your thighs into the side of the mattress. He kept smacking your ass, leaving you whining like a pathetic whore. You could tell Ramsay was close to finishing as he got more erratic with his thrusts. He flipped you over to your back, and he straddled your stomach. One of his hands immediately went around your throat while his other hand began stroking his cock which was twitching and ready to release.

He began choking you as he jerked himself off, he was completely sweaty and his face was very serious. You couldn't help but swoon at the sight in front of you. You almost felt lucky to see him like this. Suddenly, the hand choking you pulled back and landed swiftly across your cheek, sending a ringing through your ears. He smacked you across the face. You cried out and Ramsay came, his warm cum hitting you in the face where he slapped you and sliding down to pool in your neck. He held a fist full of your hair from the top of your head as he finished cumming.

His breathing was heavy as he stood up, leaving you on the bed covered in his seed. He smiled at you as he threw you a cloth off the floor. "Keep doing good things and I will reward you more often." He grinned as he pulled his clothes back on. You laid there, wiping his cum from your face and neck. "You do look lovely like this..." He chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Now, be a good girl and clean up this room. I'll be back for you tomorrow." Ramsay swiftly left the room without another word.

You finished wiping yourself off and sat in silence, allowing your body and mind to process what just happened. On one hand, you were humiliated and hated him for using 'your reward' as a chance to just get what he wanted... but on the other hand, you were pleased to be the lady who he used for his pleasure. You were confused and ashamed as you splashed the cold water from your last bath on your face, washing yourself up. You argued with yourself as part of you wished he would come back for more.

Chapter Four

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tinfairies · 2 years

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most to least likely to have a daddy kink

ps. Ur blog is life xx

Most

Daemon

Theon

Aegon

Jace

Rhaenyra 😏

Tyrion

Robb

Ramsey

Aemond

Podrick

Jon

Least

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lenaswritingandstuff · 2 years

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Could a really nice person write me a Theon x Stark!f!reader where Theon brings you back to Jon after you've been abused by Ramsay at Winterfell and Theon and Jon argue and Theon ends up screaming that he loves you with everything he has left, that you're everything to him, and that he saved you and helped you escape because seeing you getting abused by Ramsay every day hurted him more than any torture Ramsay did to him.

(Bonus: you hear Theon and confess to him that you love him too)

I would write it honestly but I'm not feeling comfortable enough to write about GoT yet.

To the person who is willing to write it, I'd be forever grateful!

#game of thrones #jon snow #theon greyjoy #winterfell #got #theon x reader #reader insert #request #house stark #winter is coming #ramsey bolton

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babylonfelldown · 1 year

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Theon is Anti-hero bc it's him, he's the problem, he's the monster on the hill slowly lurching towards our favorite city, he wakes up screaming from dreaming that Robb will get tired of his schemes and leave him making life lose all meaning for the last time, so he leaves first and when it's midnight and his depression works the graveyard shift all of his ghost stand there. He should not be left to his own devices, they come with prices and he does end up in crisis

Theon is You're on Your own, Kid bc he waits patiently, Robb's gonna notice him and it's okay, they're the best of friends. He didn't choose Winterfell, he dreams of getting out but there's one who could make him stay. He waits ages to see him and searches the party of better bodies just to learn that Robb never cared. And because he's on his own, and has always been, he sees the great scape and picks the petals to see that he (Robb) loves him not; with that something different blooms as he writes in his room. He gets to Pyke and knows his dreams aren't rare, but he gives his blood, sweat, and tears and listens to the humiliations, Winterfell goes from sprinklers splashes to fireplace ashes. He clings to Ramsey, starves his body, and lives by the approval like he's gonna be saved by the perfect kiss, he looks around and sees a blood-soaked gown and something Ramsey can't take away, he takes Jeyne and runs. So he makes the friendship bracelets and tastes the moment, he's got no reason to be afraid anymore, he's on his own, as he's always has been, and he can face this

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an-artist-who-loves-got · 1 year

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First I like to say How I love your art. I love asoiaf artists so much and your one of my favourites. Now I don't ship them, but could you do a drawing of Arya if she married Ramsay. So its Arya in a wedding dress while she's holding on to reek as he leads her to the Godswood Xxx

There you go, the wedding dress looks quite casual but northerners dont really dress up for weddings, if I remember correctly?

Also thank you:)

#arya stark #ramsey bolton #theon greyjoy #reek #wedding #godswood #cannon divergence #au #asoiaf #got #winterfell #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #arya x ramsey #fan art

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axelsagewrites · 1 year

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Ramsay Bolton*My Father Would Kill Me

Pairing: Ramsay x F!Reader

Summary: The reader decides to try convince Ramsay to help her family in less honrouble ways.

Requested by @darkrose33

Warnings: Ramsay, swearing, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, fingering, humiliation, spanking, rough sex 18+

Word count: 3411

A/N: Ramsay is a terrible terrible person who did terrible terrible things that I do not condone...however Iwan Rheon made him so attractive in a strange way so you cannot blame me for writing smut for him

Masterlist Here

Ever since Ned Stark had died and Robb rode off into war the north had fallen into what you honestly thought was madness. The trade between Winterfell and the rest of the North had basically been cut off then randomly started again then slowed down then stopped then picked up again. Crime was all over the place since there was no Stark to fear.

Lords began to try snatch more power after Robb was murdered and the fights. Good gods the fights between houses and lords and ladies were endless. Petty fights turned into alliance breaking feuds. Up until recently your family had been relatively okay. until wilding attacks began more frequent in the surrounding villages. Before the Starks deaths they used to send men patrolling around the villages and outskirts for criminals and wildings, but the Boltons had no continued this. They didn’t care how the rest of the north was as long as they had Winterfell.

“We can’t continue like this,” you overheard your father tell your mother, “I must go to the Boltons and plead for their help,”

“What use is that? Roose hated you before he took the castle. You think he’ll help us now?”

But then the news came. Roose Bolton was dead. many said it was his bastard son had killed him and was the new Lord Bolton of Winterfell. Everyone knew before her death Catelyn Stark was terrified that a bastard would take Winterfell from Robb. How could she know that the bastard would turn out to be Ramsay Bolton?

Despite the news making your stomach churn it gave your family a brief glimmer of hope. The enemy of my enemy is my friend after all. Your father insisted this was your only hope and bundled you into your finest furs to go to Winterfell alongside him.

Now you were sat in Winterfell with your father waiting for its new lord to come and speak to you. It was hard not to grow nervous the longer you were forced to wait for Ramsay’s arrival. You had met him once years ago as a child. He had picked you a daffodil from the gardens to give to you, he must have been no older than seven. You had found it sweet at seven but when the other children noticed they teased him for presenting a lady with a weed. Ramsay pushed over the boy who had started the teasing however unfortunately for him that had been ten-year-old Theon Greyjoy who tattled on him, and Ramsay was dragged away by his father.

However, the Ramsey that entered the courtyard where you waited with your father looked far different from before. He no longer had noodle arms and knobbly knees. He walked with confidence oozing off him and a strange look on his face you could not quite place. His hair was no longer an overgrown bird nest on his head but a curly mop of locks that fit his face. If it weren’t for the rumours, you had heard about him on first glance you would have assumed he was a respectable lord of a noble house.

When Ramsay approached you noticed almost a twinkle in his eye. He ignored your fathers outstretched hand to take your hand into his. His hands were rough, but you noticed how soft his lips were when he placed a kiss to the back of your hand, “My lady,” he greeted, “How lovely it is to see you again,”

You tried not to blush as you bowed your head and gave a slight curtsey, “As it is to see you Ramsay- “your father shot you a shocked look at your slip up, “I mean my lord,” you tried to correct but Ramsay just chuckled at your embarrassment.

“Its all right My Lady. Old habits are hard to break,” his eyes lingered on you before going to your father. “How may I be of assistance my lord?”

Your father tried to explain the situation as best he could, but you could see Ramsay bore as each word carelessly fell from your father’s mouth in a half-jumbled mess. “As you can imagine lord Bolton it can be quite the struggle. It means so much to my family-to my daughter,” he said as he grabbed your arm desperately trying to keep his interest, “If you could spare even a few men- “

“I’ll have to take some time to consider it,” Ramsay cut your father off with a fake smile that made your stomach churn, “In the meantime you’re free to roam around Winterfell. I’ll tell them to set each of you up a chamber,” Your father’s disappointment was written across his face. He hadn’t expected this whole thing to last more than a couple of hours, but Ramsay clearly enjoyed having the upper hand, “If you’ll excuse me my lord, my lady,” Ramsay bowed his head, eyes focused on you before walking away with his hands clasped behind his back.

“When Ned Stark was in charge,” your father whispered in your ear, but you gave a sharp elbow to his side, “What?” he spat.

“Give him a chance,” you shot back in a whisper, nodding your head to where the guards stood obviously trying to listen into your conversation. “Lets just wait and see,”

Once you were in a private chamber your father began his long and incessant vent. While you could understand the frustration you also just wanted him to shut up. “I have half a mind to march up to him and- “

“Let’s not be hasty,” you cut him off, practically pushing him into a chair, “Why don’t I go enquire about food and we can figure out what to do after supper? We’re clearly not going home till tomorrow anyway,” he grumbled but finally agreed.

After you had requested for the kitchen to send your father some food, hoping a full belly would calm his temper, you suddenly found yourself walking to Ramsay’s chambers where the maids told you he’d be. You knew if you left it for your father to do it would not go so well. You paused in front of the door, unsure of what to say when you went in or if he would even let you speak. It was so out of the norm for you to be in a lord’s room especially alone. Perhaps this was a mistake.

Then the door swung open. A maid with a full basket of washing stood in front of you with a shocked expression. “What is it?” you heard Ramsay call from inside.

“You have a visitor milord,” she said, her eyes darting away from you. “The lady (Y/N),”

“Send her in,” Ramsay said but you could hear the smirk in his voice.

The lady gave you a sad smile before hurrying past you. you took a deep breath before entering the room, closing the door partially behind you, “My lord,” you greeted with a curtsey.

Ramsay was stood in his trousers and undershirt, and you blushed at the sight. Without the tunic and cloak, you could see he was far more muscular than you had expected. “What happened to Ramsay?” he enquired with a raised eyebrow as he crossed the room to where you stood by the door.

He was less than a foot away from you now and you could smell the sweet musky scent off him, “It would be improper my lord,” a smirk crept on his face.

Ramsay leaned in closer, one hand moving to shut the door behind you. his ears were by your lips, and you could feel his breathing on your skin, “More improper than visiting my chambers unattended?” he said before pulling back to where he stood before.

You blushed under his gaze, “My lord I came to- “

“Ramsay,” he corrected.

“Ramsay,” you smiled, the blush now spreading to your ears, “I came to plead for you to- “Ramsay sighed as he stepped back and walked to a table that held a jug of wine and two goblets. He poured two as you repeated practically the same speal your father had. He held one out to you and you took it without instruction to which he smiled at, “So it would mean so much to me if- “

“What do I get out of this arrangement?” he asked cutting you off. You were stunned for a second as you began to stammer for a response, “I’m a reasonable person my lady. I like to think at least. Its not crazy of me to expect to be compensated for my losses,”

“Of course, my lord,” you said, “It’s just that- “

“That your father has nothing to offer?” he asked, and you nodded sheepishly, “Perhaps then we should consider other options. Perhaps you have something to offer for instance,”

“My lord im afraid I have no more than my father,”

Ramsay laughed as he finished his wine, “I promise you my lady you are very,” Ramsay began to close the gap between you, now towering over you, his eyes gazing down into yours, “very mistaken,”

A flush spread across your cheeks at the look in his eyes and your gaze fell to the floor to avoid it, “I don’t understand what you mean my lord,”

Ramsay’s fingers went to your chin which he gently pulled up to force you to meet his eyes again, “I think you do though,” he said, his voice low, “I think you wouldn’t have come to my chambers if the thought hadn’t crossed your mind,”

You swallowed and stuttered under his gaze. While you had found him incredibly handsome you were a lady. To sleep with someone before you were wed could be catastrophic, “I cannot jeopardize my virtue,”

“Who would have to know?” his head dropped so that his lips were beside your ear again.

You shivered as his hot breath kissed your skin, “Its wrong,” you stuttered, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Can it be wrong if it feels so good?” he whispered before placing a kiss behind your ear.

You gasped slightly at the gesture and felt his smirk against your skin, “My father would kill me,”

Ramsay pulled back from your neck and took your face into one of his hands, his thumb stroking across your cheek bone, “As if I would let him to such a thing to such a pretty little thing,” it was hard not to lean into his touch.

“I’ve heard of the things that you do,” you stuttered, and it only caused his smirk to grow.

“A good girl doesn’t listen to the hens clucking,” he tutted, “All I have ever done to you has been kind,”

The memory of the daffodil brought a sad smile to your face, “Ramsay I- “

“If you can look me in my eyes and tell me you don’t want this, I’ll let you leave,” he said as his hand fell from your face.

His eyes never left yours however and you squirmed under his gaze, “I- “

“I’ll know if you lie,” he added as he stepped closer to you leaving no space between your bodies. His hands went to rest on your hips, “Tell me sweet girl,” he leaned closer, so his forehead was pressed onto yours, his lips an inch from your own. The words were caught in your throat as you tried to answer. “No one has to know,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours.

Without thinking your hands crashed onto his however while you intended a quick kiss Ramsay’s hand quickly went behind your back, pulling you closer to him and deepening the kiss. They felt like velvet against yours and you felt yourself get lost in the kiss. You had forgot about the goblet of wine you held until it fell to the floor with a clatter, the wine splashing on his fur rug. “Ramsay im so sorry,” you stammered as the kiss broke when you noticed the stain seeping into the carpet.

“Its okay,” he said taking your jaw in his hand and forcing you to face him. “You can make it up to me,” his lips dived back in for another kiss but this time his lips were far more desperate. He bit down on your bottom lip causing you to gasp into the kiss. You felt him smirk before he slid his tongue in. you moaned into the kiss at the feeling of his tongue mixing with yours.

You had kissed a couple lords before but none like this. No ones hold felt as strong as Ramsay as he pulled you as close as possible to his body. Your hands rested on his chest which felt so strong under your fingertips. Your hands crept up to his wide and muscular shoulders that were barely covered by the thin undershirt. Ramsay’s hand slid from your back to your arse that he dug his fingers in over your dress. You gasped when he suddenly spanked it and Ramsay just chuckled in response. With his hand lower down and pulling you in you could now feel his hard member pressing against you.

Without much warning Ramsay broke the kiss to harshly turn you around as he hastily began to unlace your dress. It came off quickly along with your shift. The air felt cold against your skin despite the fireplace in the corner and you flushed under his hungry eyes, “Much better than any of my dreams,” he grinned from behind you, his hands going to hold your breasts as he pressed himself to your back.

You gasped when he began to squeeze your breasts, his lips falling to press hard kisses along your neck. You felt his hard on pressing and grinding into your ass as his hands massaged and squeezed your chest. His kisses turned into sucking hickeys into your skin. “We shouldn’t,” you said but it came out as moans.

Ramsay chuckled as he let go of you before turning you to face him, “Then why are you moaning at my touch darling?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. His hand trailed down your body and your breath caught in your throat as his finger ran across your folds, “You’re so wet,” he chuckled causing your skin to turn hot, “And you’re blushing,” he laughed, “You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

His lips captured yours again this time your hands holding onto his arms to steady yourself as his finger teased you, running up and down your fold but never going in. you whined into the kiss as his finger ghosted your clit. “Please,” you whined against his lips at how tortuously gentle he was going.

Ramsay let out a dark chuckle as two of his fingers quickly dove inside of you. the burn of him filling you up made you gasp but Ramsay didn’t stop as his fingers began to massage inside if you, “Is this what you want darling?” his other hand grabbed your jaw as he forced you to look into his eyes. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers?” The way he began to curl his fingers made you moan but you didn’t answer, “Answer me,” Ramsay gripped your jaw tighter.

“Yes, my lord,” you said.

“Im beginning to like the sound of that,” Ramsay smirked as he repositioned his hand, so his thumb was now rubbing your clit. Your fingers dug into his strong biceps as you tried to steady yourself as your legs began to feel less stable and a knot was growing in your stomach. He clashed his lips back onto yours in a messy desperate kiss. His spare hand went to your ass. He placed a hard spank on your ass before rubbing his hand over the read mark. He enjoyed your gasps and moans each time he spanked it and praised the growing red mark.

Suddenly Ramsay pulled his fingers out of you causing you to whine as the growing knot suddenly disappeared. Ramsay spanked your ass at your protest before shoving his fingers that were wet with your juices into your mouth. “Suck,” he commands, and you greedily complied. Ramsay moaned at the sight of your soft lips around his fingers, “I’m going to ruin you,” he said before he pulled his fingers back.

Without warning Ramsay almost threw you onto the bed that was thankfully soft. He didn’t waste time in crawling over your body, leaving dark hickeys across your skin as he did. You moaned at the feeling of his lips sucking your skin, your fingers in his hair pulling it gently. “You look good enough to eat,” Ramsay said, and you shivered at the suggestion. His mouth wrapped around your nipple which he began to suck on the hard bud. His hand went down to your soaking cunt, rubbing sloppy circles on your clit. This plus the way his teeth grazed your nipple caused a series of moans to fall from your lips.

Ramsay let go of your nipple before he quickly flipped you onto your front. As you lay on the bed, face in the pillow, you heard Ramsay shuffling behind you and soon he was back behind you, lifting your hips up to be against his now naked length. Ramsey began to tease his cock up and down your slit causing you to whine. “I suggest you hold onto something darling,” Ramsay said as he lined his tip up with your hole before pushing into you. you gasped as it filled you up far more than his fingers had. Your hands curled into the sheets beneath them, your knuckles turning white at how strong your grip was, “I’m not very good at being gentle,”

And with that Ramsay began his thrusts. They were deep and precise as he filled you up completely causing a mix of gasps, moans, and curses to fall from your lips. You could hear his own grunts and moans as he thrust into you. his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips which you figured would leave deep marks by the time you were done. Ramsay sped up his past, his thrusts slightly sloppier but still just as deep.

“God your amazing,” Ramsay grunted as his thrusts grew quicker. “You take me so fucking well,” he said as one of his hands moved to rub circles on your clit. Your moans only grew and to try hide muffle them your face buried into the soft pillow. Ramsay’s hand shot to grab your hair, pulling your head up and out of the pillow as he pounded into you harder, “I want to hear you,” he grunted as he relentlessly pounded into you causing loud moans to tear through your throat, “That’s it,” he said, “Moan my name,”

“Ramsay,” you moaned, your voice shaky from the pleasure building within you. Ramsay’s hand dropped your head but this time you did not try concealing the moans he caused. He slapped your ass yet again before grabbing your hips tightly. His fingers sped up their circles and your moans grew louder, “Fuck. Please Ramsay. Please don’t stop,” you begged.

“That’s right,” he said, his thrusts becoming sloppier, “Who’s making you feel this way?”

“You are,” the knot from before was back and the pressure built even quicker than before, “I think im gonna- “you tried to warn as you felt your walls start to clench around him. Ramsay had moved your hips slightly causing him to hit a new spot that sent the pressure over the edge. You were practically shaking around him as the organs ripped through your body causing your lips to almost give out.

Ramseys arm went under your hips to hold you up. His thrusts were even faster as you rode out your orgasm but the way you had began to clench around him made his own come even quicker. “Fuck!” Ramsay groaned when he suddenly spilled inside of you. his grip on you was tighter as his orgasm took his breath away.

You crashed onto the bed when Ramsay’s arm fell away from you. he soon fell beside you on the bed sweaty and naked and panting. You forced yourself to roll over and stared up at the ceiling as you realised what you had done, “My father’s gonna kill me,”

Ramsay rolled over to place a kiss to your lips, “You’re far too valuable now to let him do that love,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy

#ramsay bolton smut #ramsay bolton #ramsay bolton imagine #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay snow #ramsay now smut #game of thrones smut #game of thrones show #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #iwan rheon #iwan rheon smut #requested #asoiaf #asoiaf smut

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in-my-feels-probably · 1 year

Note

I just realised I forgot to send a request!! silly sausage hours fr ✌🏻😔

anywho! if it is at all interesting to you, I was wondering if you’d like to write a Protective!Jon x Short!S/O based piece?? can be whatever you want, a blurb, headcannon, imagine - whatever idea comes to you based on this very vague prompt cuz I want to give you all the creative wiggle room to do what you want to do!!

could be something about the Short!S/O getting hurt defending Jon when someone talks shit about him or Jon sees/finds out his S/O was being harassed/had been touched without consent in any way and he sees RED, could be anything at all!! just some real good protective Jon Snow content pretty please 🥺💗

but, all the same, if this idea doesnt grab you then please do not feel at all pressured in writing it, it’s completely up to you!! no hard feelings 🤗

I wish you the most wonderful rest of your day!! ♡

That’s My Girl

Request: if it is at all interesting to you, I was wondering if you’d like to write a Protective!Jon x Short!S/O based piece?? can be whatever you want, a blurb, headcannon, imagine - whatever idea comes to you based on this very vague prompt cuz I want to give you all the creative wiggle room to do what you want to do!! could be something about the Short!S/O getting hurt defending Jon when someone talks shit about him or Jon sees/finds out his S/O was being harassed/had been touched without consent in any way and he sees RED, could be anything at all!! just some real good protective Jon Snow content pretty please

Hi! Thank you for the request, I'm sorry for the long wait. This is my first time writing for Jon! I’m hoping this is what you were looking for, but if not. Just let me know and I'd be able to fix it or write you something else.

I love Jon, I'm happy to write for him. To make sense of the story, the reader is technically a Bolton, and a sister to Ramsey. I set this around season 5-6. I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, violence, a fight, mentions of blood and wounds, slight sexual harassment, gross men, let me know if i missed anything)

—

The Wall was not a good place for a woman. That fact, you knew all too well.

Women weren’t allowed at the wall, regardless of station or reason. This was a fact your family knew, and a fact they ignored.

You were born to a handmaiden, fathered by Roose Bolton. When you entered the early stages of being a woman, Lord Bolton legitimized you, and sent you to Winterfell to learn the ways of being a Lady. He figured you may be useful to him one day, someone he could marry off for an advantage.

Winterfell was where you met Jon Snow. He had always liked you. While you were technically a Bolton, you lived more than half of your life as a Snow. You were no longer legally a bastard, but you felt like one anyway.

Jon knew the feeling, and you became quite close throughout your years, before he left for the Wall and the rest of the Starks left as well.

You lived through the Greyjoy Rebellion, when Theon came and took Winterfell. You received word from your father, and were asked to stay anyways. After Robb’s death, the Bolton’s officially took over the castle.

Despite your father being named Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, he was no family to you. You’d never see him as such. Instead, the Northern folk who had lived in the city since the reign of the Starks took care of you, always there to be a friend if you needed them.

They were your true family. Them, and the Starks, although you hadn’t seen any of them in years. Most of them were dead.

When Lord Bolton died and his position was passed to the newly legitimized Ramsay Bolton, the families that had helped you sent you away for your own safety.

With you being the last legitimate Bolton, other than Ramsey, you challenged the claim to the North, despite being a woman. The North liked you more, and Ramsay was afraid they’d rebel if he allowed you to live.

You went to the Wall, seeking asylum.

You reconnected with Jon, who had recently been named Lord Commander. He allowed you to stay, despite the rules he was meant to follow.

But if he had allowed the Wildlings passage, he could allow you to stay as well.

To appease the men, you worked as a stewardess, making up for being another mouth to feed and for filling a bed in the single room. The only other empty single room, next to the Lord Commander’s suite.

It got easier as the weeks passed, and you slipped into a routine that was comfortable enough.

Sometimes, the men were a little rough with you. It was if they forgot you were a woman, not remembering to be gentler with you.

Others never forgot you were a woman, keeping their eyes on you at all times.

This occurred on opposite ends of the spectrum, one end containing men like Jon, Edd, and Sam, and the other containing men like Ser Allister, who hated you being there, as well as the men who wouldn’t hesitate to do you harm.

You knew those who followed Jon would keep an eye on you, never allowing true harm to come your way, but you still kept your guard up most of the time. In between doing your duties, you trained with the men, learning combat skills.

It reminded you of the times in Winterfell as children, when Jon would sneak you out of lessons with the Septa to train with him.

You were quite short, compared to the women of your age. Jon was on the shorter side too, in comparison to other men, but he could hold his own well enough. He wanted you to be able to do the same, so he wouldn’t have to worry as much about your safety.

You had gotten quite good at it, especially with the refresher at the Wall, and you were confident enough that you could handle yourself.

That didn’t mean you necessarily wanted to. If you could avoid it, you’d try and keep to yourself for most of the day, ignoring the men you didn’t like. But some of them made it quite hard on you.

“Lady Snow,” Ser Alliser taunted, coming into the kitchen where you were scrubbing pots. “Where’s your Commander? Figured he would’ve sent one of his watchdogs to come guard you, considering he isn’t here to do it himself.”

“He’s just as much your Commander as he is mine,” you replied, not looking up to dignify him with a reaction.

“That may be,” he said, taking a step towards you. He stopped in his tracks when he heard a growl coming from behind you, and saw a white beast stepping out from behind your legs.

“You’re right, My Lord,” you said, leaning over to scratch behind Ghost’s ears. “Jon did leave me unattended. Although, I expect a direwolf is as good of a watchdog as any man here. Would you like to test that theory? Come closer, then.”

Ghost snarled at Ser Alliser, making him take a step back. He glared at you, retreating to the door.

“You don’t belong here, Snow. You’ll come to see that soon.”

“Thank you for that,” you called, returning back to your work. “You can piss off now.”

—

Later that day, much to your annoyance, another group of some of the men tried your patience again.

It was before dinner, when you had just finished up with your duties for the day. You had just brought Ghost his dinner, and were returning to the hall to eat, when three men cornered you in the courtyard.

“What do you want?” You asked, unimpressed.

“We want you to go,” one replied, making you roll your eyes.

The one closest to you nodded in agreement. “We didn’t vote for Jon to be the Commander.”

“You’re lucky you have him—“

He cut you off, his tone more aggressive. “Are we? So far, in the weeks he’s been Commander, he let the Wildlings through our gates. Now, he’s let a girl in.”

“That’s your problem? Ser Alliser almost let the Wall fall because of his own pride,” you spat, growing angry. “He should have listened to Jon when he had the chance. It cost us lives.”

“Us? There’s no us, you’re not one of us,” the man on the right finally spoke. His voice was significantly higher than he looked like he would sound, making you chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” The middle man asked.

“All of you,” you replied. “You’re very amusing to watch. Pathetic, really.”

“Watch your tone, bitch,” the man closest to you said. “Nobody wants to hear your mouth. As far I’m concerned, a woman has two purposes. Popping out kids, and warming my bed. Would you be interested in either?

You raised a brow, clenching your fists at your sides. He smirked, taking a step closer to you.

“What? Cat got your tongue, bitch? Not brave enough to say something without your useless Lord Commander there to save you?”

You couldn’t contain yourself any longer, swinging and cracking your knuckles across his jaw. You swung again before he could recover, smashing your fist into the bridge of his nose. He faltered back this time, landing on his ass.

“What?” You smirked, flexing your hand. “Cat got your tongue?”

He snarled, standing up. The other two tried to hold him back, afraid of what would happen if they actually hurt the Lord Commander’s girl, but they weren’t strong enough. He broke through, shaking them off.

Before you could take a step back, you felt a palm strike across your cheek, stinging the flesh. His ring caught on your cheekbone, cutting a small slit.

You brought a hand up to your face in shock, balling your hand into a fist, but he caught your wrist in the air, squeezing it tight. You gasped in pain, whimpering.

“What are you gonna do now?” He asked, wiping the blood from his nose.

“Let me go,” you said, trying to pull away. “Let me go, or you’ll regret it.”

“Yeah? Why’s that? What are—“

“Hey!”

You turned your heads across the yard to see Edd standing near the kennel door, Ghost standing next to his side. Ghost snarled, looking ready to pounce.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let her go!” He said, bounding towards you.

You felt the man let go of your wrist, and heard their footsteps retreating as Edd approached you. You rubbed your wrist, reaching down to run a hand through Ghost’s fur when he got to your side.

“Hey, boy,” you muttered, then turning to Edd. “What are you doing? Why’d you let Ghost out?”

“He was pawing at the door, whining, I heard him all the way from the watchtower. He wouldn’t stop till I let him out. He ran out here, and I followed him. What happened, what did they do to you?”

You shook your head. “It’s alright, I’m fine.”

“Your cheek is red and scratched, and your wrist is already bruising. You’re not fine. Jon is gonna raise hell when he sees it. Not that you couldn’t handle your own, but what were you thinking? Three against one isn’t good odds to start throwing punches.”

You groaned, casting your eyes on the ground. Edd sighed, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Come on, then. He’s still in his office, and everyone else is in the dining hall. I’ll take you halfway, and keep everyone occupied till you’re ready to come back.”

“But—“

“No buts. Jon would have my head if I didn’t take you to him straight away. You’re going.”

You relented, giving him a grateful nod as he led the way. He left you halfway, as promised. You walked the rest of the way yourself, only hesitating when you found yourself outside of Jon’s office.

Sighing, you went in.

He was at his desk, his head down. He shuffled through papers, sorting through everything on his desk. You slowly approached, wringing your hands together.

“Jon,” you said softly.

“I’m almost done, love, give me a minute.”

You internally groaned, preparing yourself for the painful conversation you were about to have. You spoke again.

“Jon.”

“What?” He sighed, looking up, only to drop his things at the sight of you. “Y/N?”

He hurriedly stood, pushing his chair back and bounding around his desk to stand in front of you, cupping your jaw in his hands. You grimaced as he turned your head, inspecting your cheek more closely. He was absolutely fuming, practically shaking with rage.

His voice was eerily calm. “Who?”

“Jon—“ You started, but he cut you off.

“Y/N…who?”

“I don’t even know their names, you’ll have to ask Edd,” you relented. “It was three men. He stopped them.”

“What happened?”

“The same as usual. They don’t like that I’m here, they don’t like that you’re Lord Commander, and they think I’m making it worse for everyone being with you.”

“That’s not true—“

“I know,” you immediately said, sighing. “I know. And normally, I ignore them, or stay calm till they get bored and eventually leave me alone. But this time, I just got too angry. It wasn’t just me they were insulting, it was you, too.”

Jon seethed as he listened to you talk, moving from your cheek to inspect your wrist. The bruise had settled to a garish green.

“He threatened me, and I swung. I don’t know why I did it, but he went down. Obviously, he didn’t take very kindly to being hit by a girl, as you can see.”

“You don’t hit a woman,” Jon said, cradling your face in his palms, gently wiping away the dry blood on your cheek. “I’ll find them. I’ll find them, and they’ll wish they’d never laid eyes on you. The noose is too good for them.”

You leaned your forehead against his, trying to calm him down.

“I’m alright, Jon. I’m alright. That’s enough, for now.”

He took a deep breath as he rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. You ran a comforting hand over his, drawing circles with your thumb over the back of it.

“You can’t fight my battles for me, darling. You can’t get yourself hurt because of me.”

You shook your head, almost grinning. “Why not? You do it for me.”

“You’re too pretty for scars,” he mused, caressing your cheeks.

“So are you,” you agreed, tracing your finger across the one that had faded to a thin white line, just over his brow. “And yet you fight for me. It’s only fair that I do the same for you.”

Jon sighed, looking down at you with soft and loving eyes. “So, what did he look like?”

“What?” You asked, shaking your head in confusion.

“The other guy. What did he look like?”

“Worse,” you grinned proudly. “Much worse. I think I broke his nose. And his jaw is sure to be hurting for the next few days.”

Jon smiled, holding you by the waist and pulling you into him. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, breathing you in.

“That’s my girl.”

—

A/N - Hi! Sorry that this is on the shorter side, I hope you still like it. I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think!

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #jon snow #jon snow imagine #jon snow x reader

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lim-boe · 6 months

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Ever my savior

This is a Jon Snow x Reader fanfic

This is not for the faint of heart and this is part one of many.

Warnings: Violence, torture, Ramsey Bolton

If you are a minor DNI

——————————————————————————

You were a lady of a northern house. Your father was not too influential, but a lord nonetheless.

You were a lady.

You couldn't tell if you still held that title.

You stood in Lord Bolton's war room. Or was it his bedroom? Is there a difference?

He was seething. Pacing. Clenching his fists.

Not good signs.

“ That fucking bitch”, Ramsey hissed.

Sansa ran away. Theon and Sansa ran away. Theon ran away. Your one lifeline. Your ally.

Alone.

That was what you were.

Alone to face Ramsey by yourself.

He was gone.

He left you.

“ Darling,” Ramsey gripped your chin harshly, squeezing your cheeks, “I’m feeling frustrated, do me a favor and lay on the table.”

He always did this. Played the part of a sweet and understanding man before stripping you of your dignity. You were used to this.

But not alone.

Theon was always here. Someone to anchor yourself to while Ramsey did what he wanted. While Ramsey tortured you.

Theon understood what it was like being tortured by Ramsey.

He knew.

And he still left.

You walk over to the table and lie down, just like Ramsey wants.

Ramsey never touched you in the way that you’d think. He wasn’t interested in fucking you. If he was then he would've done it by now. Instead, Ramsey, ever the gentleman, left you your purity. It seemed that he thought you would catch him a better ally or price while still retaining your purity.

You were given to Ramsey as his betrothed before Lord Balish brought Sansa. She was a much better choice. You thought that you would be permitted to go home. You weren't.

Ramsey had his fucktoys. He had his wife.

You were his chew toy.

Ramsey pulled up your dress to reveal your pale thigh.

He dragged his knife around until he found an area of unmarred skin. Then he carved. He liked to hear you scream.

You weren't in the mood.

The absence of Theon numbed you.

When you did not scream Ramsey looked at you curiously and pressed deeper. A tear escaped and fell to the table. Still, you were silent.

“ Really? You too?,” Ramsey leaned down to whisper in your ear, “ Are you keeping silent in some sort of solidarity with the half-wit and his whore. Maybe you're the half-wit whore.”

He removed the knife from your thigh. The feeling of warm blood pooling on the table beneath you caused a shiver to run up your spine.

The Lord smiled at you as he stood up and ran his eyes down your torso. His gaze stopped on your lower abdomen.

In an instant, Ramsey had cut a deep gash through your lower abdomen and you let out a blood-curdling shriek.

Bastard.

#jon snow #jon snow x you #jon snow x reader

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bad-got-imagines · 1 year

Text

freedom las vegas!!! eventual bolton?(;D)!reader x theon greyjoy

your bastard brother ramsey bolton was torturing some guy again. you sighed as you heard the screaming, wishing he’d just shut up so you could focus on dissecting the dead baby fox in front of you. you licked its blood off your finger as your bedroom door pounded.

“what?” you called out, pissed that ramsey got to be the heir and u didn’t.

“mr bolton wants u to cum to his torture room. NOW!!!!1!!” you recognised miranda’s stupid preppy voice. she tried to be dark and evil like u and ur brother but she was too much of a whore.

“fuck off slut!” you heard her huff and stomp away. regardless, you obeyed your brother - he was a man after all - and hopped to his room.

“ah y/n!” he grinned when you leapt through the door frame, feeding your momentum into an army roll into him.

“what do u want?” you roared, flirtily.

“this fucking man is theon greyjob.” he pointed to the very thing and panting man tied up, spread-eagle on the cross of jesus christ our lord amen.

“sso?” you retorted.

“i am torturing him.” he whispered back.

“and?’

“i am fucking torturing him!!!!!!!!1!!!!!” he had had a stomach ache so was being a cranky pants >:( ((((((a/n poor ramsee >o< love u bby ramsey boltun: love u 2 author-chan me: >:00))))).

“fine. i will suck his toes” you sighed. ramsey grinned as you go to your knees.

(((((((((((a/n incest is sexxy if you are incestrophobic then gtfo!!!! >>>:[))))))))

but when you looked up, theon’s dirty big toe sat on your tongue, your eyes met his light blue orbs. they were....... beautiful.

the toe dropped put of your mouth with a slimy pop, “theon handjob. i am in love with you!!”

his crystal cerulean sight balls filled with tears, “babygirl I love you 2!!!1!”

you stood up and with your bare hands you snapped ramseys neck.

“now we r free my love.” you roared. and grabbed his hand.

theon laughed, “seize the means of production.”

you laughed too.

it was time to be yourself: y/n targaryen, the lost princess of old valyria and heir to throne of gondor.

#bad got imagines #bad game of thrones imagines #game of thrones x reader #got imagines #game of thrones imagines #got #game of thrones #theon greyjoy #theon greyjoy x reader

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2braincellslz · 1 year

Text

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ramsayxme · 5 months

Text

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / AO3 Link

TW - violence, murder, flaying, murder (of a child), physical abuse, emotional abuse, sex, smut, full blown stockholm syndrome, gaslighting yourself, ramsay bolton. I hope you enjoyed my 10 chapters! Thank you so much for reading x

Chapter Ten: And Full Of Terrors

You both awoke to a servant knocking on your door and your infant crying in his bed. You rolled out of bed to grab your squalling baby and Ramsay pulled on trousers to answer the knocking. Ramses quickly latched to your breast, ready for breakfast. You laid back in bed, pulling the blankets high to shield your body from the servant. Ramsay opened the door and a very nervous young man stood on the other side. "My Lord. I am sorry if I woke you, but there is something happening in the courtyard you need to attend to." His voice broke multiple times through the sentence.

Ramsay huffed. "Alright. Let me get dressed... and this better be important." He shook his finger at the servant. "I'll be out in a minute." He shut the door, allow privacy once again. Ramsay looked at you and rolled his eyes regarding the servant. "Sorry, My Lady. I have to go handle this." He pulled a dusty grey waffle-knit over his head before donning his leathers. "Wait a moment and let me come with you. The Little Lord can start his lessons early." You smiled. Ramsay chuckled. "Fine, but bundle him up." Of course you would. Ramsay held his son as you got yourself ready to leave as well and swaddled baby Ramses in the finest furs. You tied him to your chest so the three of you could head down to the courtyard.

You closely followed your husband, his cloak draped over his powerful shoulders and swaying with his steps. With each swing of the cloak, you caught a glimpse of the handful of knives and daggers that he kept on his waistband. You loved how powerful he was. His curls coiled together on the back of his neck and his ears peered out from the dark waves. He walked with confidence, each step oozing of power and purpose. You felt like the most powerful woman to exist as you floated behind him, his heir cooing at your breast.

You exited the stone walls and were met with icy air hitting your face, your hands instinctively covering your baby with your cloak, wrapping it around his tiny body. Ramsay wasn't affected by the cold, his hair blowing softly as it began collecting snowflakes. There was a small group of men, their metal helmets reflecting the snow and making them gleam. "What is it?" Ramsay barked as you approached the men. Without speaking, they began leading Ramsay to the large entrance of the Dreadfort. The wooden doors were towering over you as they pushed them open. On the other side stood a shivering woman, frail and afraid. She held hands with a small boy who looked to be around 4 years old.

Ramsay stood still as a statue, staring at the woman. He turned his head towards the men, and put his hands up, his leather gloves squeaking as he pointed to the woman. "And how is this my concern?" The men nodded and looked at the woman. She had tattered clothes and long blonde hair that was matted in knots. The small boy had black hair and piercing blue eyes. His jaw was prominent and he wasn't shivering. You stared at your husband as he took in the sight.

"Ramsay..." the woman practically whispered. "You don't remember me?" You felt your heart jump, the jealousy and anger bubbling up in your chest. You tensed your body and wished you had brought your knives with you. "No." Your husband said, "Why would I?" She took a step closer, causing all of the men to tense up into attack mode. Ramsay chuckled. "I don't think she will be attacking me. Let her speak." The men relaxed, stepping back to their previous spots. "Ramsay... years ago we lay together. I woke up and you had fled, but..." her voice trailed off as she turned to the boy. Ramsay stared at the child. You were unable to read his expression.

"This is your son." She put her hand on the boys back and gently pushed him forward. He took a few small steps closer to Ramsay and stared up at him. Ramsay gazed at the boy intently. "No, no... if he is mine, he is a bastard, not my son. This is my son, my true heir." He turned to point to you and Ramses. Your eyes were locked on the woman, hatred boiling in your chest and heat pouring into your cheeks. She met your eyes and curtsied with her rags. "My Lady, I mean no disrespect, I mean no trouble-" You interrupted her. "If you meant no trouble, you should have stayed far away. Shut the gates." You demanded the men.

Ramsay held his hand up. "Bring them to the guest chambers. My wife and I will need to discuss a few things but until then, they can rest." Your jaw dropped, your fury now directed at your husband. Ramsay turned on his heels and grabbed your arm. You followed him to the kennels where it was quiet. "Ramsay! I will not-" He interrupted you with his hand on your throat, pushing you backwards into a stone wall. "Let me speak!" He hissed, spitting on your face. "I do not want a bastard son and I do not want this whore woman. I am simply allowing them to come inside until I decide what I want to do with them. Do not question my power again, do you understand?" You stared at your husband, teeth grinding together as you nodded.

"Wonderful. Now, for all we know, this woman is lying. I don't recognize her." You rolled your eyes. "The boy looks like you." You muttered, jealousy oozing from your lips. Ramsay's face twisted into a grin. "Why, you're jealous aren't you? Does it bother you to think about me fucking her before I even knew you?" You growl as you shove Ramsay. Your shove barely moves your sturdy husband. He chuckles. "You're angry. I like when you're angry. My wild wife." He coos, nuzzling into your neck. Ramses is asleep at your chest, so Ramsay can't press his body against you. He kisses your neck, sucking hard and leaving a mark.

While he kisses your neck, he whispers into your ear. "We can get rid of them. Shall we feed them to the dogs? Burn them? Flay them? I'll let you pick, my love... my gift to you." You purr when you hear him say this. You press your lips against his, moaning with passion as your tongue slithers into his mouth. You bite his lower lip hard and twist it between your teeth, making him gasp and pull away. "My feisty bitch!" He grins, blood dripping down his chin. You smile. "Let me take care of the woman. You do whatever you want with the bastard."

Ramsay agreed to this fairly quickly. You had a strong inkling that he found your possessiveness over him quite attractive. Nobody was going to interrupt your life, touch your husband, or push your child to the side. "I think I will tell the bastard that I accept him as mine and want to show him around his new home. When we come in here," Ramsay pointed around the kennels. "I will put him in my biggest girl's kennel and let her get a nice treat." He grinned wickedly at you. "And what will you do?" He kissed your cheek before kissing the black hair on your son's head.

"I want to flay her." You whispered. Ramsay's eyebrows raised. "You've never flayed anyone before, love." You nodded. "I know. I want to flay her, though. I want it to be slow and painful, so she will regret that she ever left her home. And just before she dies, I will tell her what happened to her bastard son!" You chuckled as you watched Ramsay's eyes grow wide with lust. He lets out a snarl as he leans into your neck and bites down, his hot mouth leaving another mark on you. "I'll fetch the boy. You head inside and I'll send the woman in." He whispered before he vanished behind the stone walls.

You ran to your chambers to grab your flaying knife, bow, and some arrows before heading to the torture room. You lay Ramses down for a nap, kissing him on his little forehead. Once you reached the room with the large wooden X, you snuck into a dark corner hidden from view. You remembered Reek in that moment, his frail body dangling from the large wooden cross. More importantly, you remembered the sex that you and Ramsay had on the floor, a wave of fluttering rose in your core as you remembered how it felt. Shortly after you arrived in the room, a few men of the Dreadfort brought the woman into the room, kicking and shrieking. You bit your lip in anticipation, excited to flay this whore that wanted to ruin your life.

She was left on the X, crying and wailing. "Please! My son and I will leave right away! I just thought Lord Bolton would want to meet his son!" She was flailing wildly, the chains clanging on her wrists and ankles. You felt furious at that statement and decided that now was the time to walk out from the shadows. "He does know his son." You said, rising from the darkness of the corner. She trembled as she looked at you. "I gave him his son, his true born heir. Not some bastard he had with a whore. He doesn't love you!" Your voice was gruff, anger settling in your throat.

"Please... We will leave right now. Forgive us." She begged, her eyes dark and wide with fear. You smirked as you got closer to her. "I think it's too late for that." You pulled your knife from behind your back and pointed it at her. "You walked in here like you would take my place. Did you really think that would work?" You pressed the point of your knife to her throat. "No, My Lady, I don't want to take your place. I wouldn't want to be with that monster!" She cried out as you pressed the metal against her skin.

"He is NOT a monster." You growled through your gritted teeth. "Take it back." She shook her head, tears falling from her eyes. "He is a monster, and so are you if you don't see it!" You laughed at her ignorance. "Stupid whore." You muttered as you pressed the knife even harder against her skin, nearly piercing it. You heard the faint sound of barking from the window. You gasped theatrically and leaned in to the woman. "Do you hear that? Shh, listen..."

She started blubbering when she heard a scream when the dogs began barking even louder. "Terrible. I am sorry you had to hear that... but, the dogs have to eat." You grinned, staring at her as she cried out for her bastard son. "Where should I start peeling first?" You asked the woman between her sobs. "Please!" She blubbered. You rolled your eyes as you leaned down, slicing the skin open across her kneecaps. She howled in pain as your knife slipped through her skin easily. You grabbed the flap of skin that hung over her fresh wound and began slowly but steadily pulling it up towards yourself. Her screams were deafening.

Suddenly, you felt hands on your hips. It startled you, since you couldn't hear anyone coming on account of the woman's whining. You spun around to see Ramsay smiling at you proudly. He had blood on his arms and hands, his leathers were off and he was only wearing the grey loose-fitting shirt. You pressed into his body with yours, leaning fully into his arms as you kissed him. You felt warmth immediately between your thighs as he gripped your waist. "Well done, well done!" He chuckled, admiring what you'd done to the woman so far. You felt a tingling sensation in your stomach when you knew Ramsay was impressed by you. "Shall we finish the job together, my love?" Ramsay asked, releasing his own flaying knife from its sheath.

The woman was completely flayed and the bastard was no longer existing. Ramsay was breathing heavy as he stepped back from the wooden X and draped his arm around your shoulders, you both had bloody hands and arms. You stared at your husband, watching him breathe through his grinding teeth. He peered over at you and flashed a smile. "I'm very proud of you." He raised his eyebrows and turned to you, placing a hand on your cheek. You felt your cheeks flush pink as you looked deeply into his pale eyes. You slammed your lips against his, moaning in his mouth.

You both dropped your knives with a loud clatter on the stone floor, desperately wrapping your arms around each other. He lifted you by your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You wanted him. You knew it would be wildly painful but you wanted him regardless. You wrapped your fingers in his hair and yanked, desire was taking over your body. He groaned into your mouth as he felt the dull pain at his skull. He walked with you over to a chair that was in the corner of the room, next to a small table which you promptly shoved over. He sat down with you on his lap.

You hiked up your skirt around your hips as he undid his trousers, just opening the front enough to release his hard cock that was begging to be touched by you. You wrapped your hands around his throat and squeezed mercilessly. His eyes bulged as you slowly slid down on his cock, the pain was intense but you wanted to please him no matter what it took. He groaned loudly when your cunt was around him, squeezing it tightly in your walls. You continued to choke him with one hand, the other hand grabbed a handful of hair at the nape of his neck and you yanked.

His neck was fully exposed to you and you leaned forward to suck and bite the soft skin. He moaned as you rode him with desperation. You moaned with a mixture of intense pain and pleasure as you bounced on his lap, his cock pounding in and out of you. He held onto your skirt, pulling and pushing with your body. You pulled the hand back that was in his hair and you slapped him hard, his skin immediately flushing red where your hand landed. He growled with pleasure as you choked him harder.

You reached behind his waist and pulled one of his knives from his waistband. You pointed it at his neck, barely pressing the tip against his skin. A low moan crept out of his lips as you nicked his collarbone, blood began trickling out. You sliced down his shirt, freeing his pale chest to the air. You began dragging the knife across his chest, leaving scratches and small gashes across his muscular body. He was staring at you with obsessive eyes, obviously loving what you were doing. You finished with a large and somewhat deep cut across his sternum, digging a little deeper than before.

You threw the knife to the ground as you leaned forward, licking up the blood that was trickling down his chest. Your mouth filled with the warm iron and you continued grinding your screaming body against his. He was panting hard, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips spread apart to let the moans escape effortlessly. You knew he was close to his orgasm and you didn't slow down as you slid your tongue into his largest wound before kissing him, your mouth leaking his own blood into his mouth.

His thighs tensed and his breathing caught in his throat as he pulled your skirt, desperate for you to slam down on him harder. You obliged, riding him hard as he came. Your poor body was bleeding too, your cunt sore and abused but you couldn't care. You only wanted to please Ramsay. You rode him through his wave until his cock softened inside you. You slowly lifted yourself, nearly collapsing on his lap once you pulled him out. The pain was excruciating. He held you on his lap as his cum dripped out of you onto his trousers.

You were out of breath as well, and tears finally began to fall down your cheeks. Ramsay smiled as he pulled you close, pressing your chest against his. You could feel his heart beating strongly as he held you. He caught his breath and whispered to you, "You're mine forever, My Lady."

You thought back to a time when those words would have terrified you. You used to be so weak and scared of Ramsay. You almost chuckled at your past self, she had no idea what was ahead of her. You remembered the first time you saw a flayed man from a distance and how it made your stomach churn, threatening your lunch to come back up your throat. You thought about now, the act of flaying someone caused you and Ramsay to bond so deeply and even arouse both of you. You remembered the first time you felt pain at the hands of Ramsay, lying on the pelts in the woods when he revealed his identity to you. You laughed at how foolish and simple you were. Now, pain was just another weapon that you were able to harness to turn into pleasure. You learned so much from your lover, you almost wanted to thank him.

You were confident that nobody else would understand your relationship with Ramsay, the relationship that you battled with in your head for so long. You knew that people would assume that you were evil just like him, and perhaps they were right. All you knew is that you loved Ramsay, and he loved you. It had to be love. It had to be. You were too horrified to think of what it was if it wasn’t love. You swallowed the thoughts and settled with the comfortable words you were able to tell yourself. This was love. It had to be...

The End.

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peterjakes · 1 year

Text

Theon Greyjoy - ‘they see right through me’

Theon Greyjoy survived The Long Night. He helped saved Winterfell. He has atoned. The Hero of the Godswood.

But things don't always go to plan. His uncle killed his sister, Yara. This can only mean one thing. Theon Greyjoy is Lord of The Iron Islands. The one thing he had always wanted as a boy, he now has. The one thing he doesn't want, he now has. The one thing he didn't believe he deserved, he now has.

But at what cost?

back when s8 aired, I had some thoughts about what would happen if yara died instead of theon (mostly bc of selfish reasons) but I thought it would be interesting to look at theon's potential feelings about this and possibly what would happen if he was named the last remaining heir of The Iron Islands

thanks for reading x

also posted on ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/45919603

Theon Greyjoy had, against all odds, survived the Long Night. He had survived the Godswood. Survived the Night King. He could go home. Wherever home was. Theon was still unsure of that. He had rescued his sister from his uncle, made sure the Iron Islands had its Queen. But then he had left her, for a place he never truly believed he would set foot in again. He had left his sister for Winterfell, to fight for the North, to fight for the Starks. Could Pyke ever be his home again? Would he want it to be? Being back at Winterfell, back at the place that caused so much anger and anguish in Theon, the place where he had destroyed so much, it brought up some strange memories, some strange feelings. Could Winterfell be his home? Could he stay here, a now honorary Northerner? Theon wasn’t so sure.

Volunteering to protect Bran in the Godswood, Theon knew what that meant. He knew it had to be him. He had to make up for his crimes against Winterfell, against the Starks, against Bran himself. He was sure everyone else who had watched him say those words knew too. Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran. They all knew what it had meant. Theon didn’t want to be thanked. Didn’t want to be celebrated. It was what he had to do. For all of them. It was the only real way he could ever make it up to them. Not only for betraying them, their family, their brother, their mother, their father. But betraying himself. For believing he was anything but part of them. He was, in truth, he just hadn’t realised it yet.

As Jon had said, Ned Stark was a part of him. But it wasn’t just him, it was all of the Starks. It was Jon, who had told him he was both a Greyjoy and a Stark. Who had forgiven him for what he had done. It was Sansa, who had embraced him with such kindness and warmth. Who had relied so heavily on him during Ramsey’s reign of terror and had forgiven him. It was even Bran, who didn’t seem like the young boy Theon had once terrorised, who had told Theon he was a good man. Who had thanked him. It was all of these moments, so important and perhaps maybe so insignificant to anyone else, that had made Theon realise something.

He had done things, truly terrible things, to the Starks, to Winterfell and to the North. He didn’t deserve any kindness, any forgiveness. He just felt regret, remorse and guilt. Every single day. And every single night. But regardless of that, he had been forgiven. He had been rewarded with kindness. With something he never thought he would get. He had been redeemed. Even before he had stayed in the Godswood with the Iron Born. Before he pledged to fight for Winterfell. Before he had saved his sister. But Theon just hadn’t realised that yet. Theon had been given a second chance, more than once. Saving and getting Sansa to safety. Citing Yara as his Queen. Fighting for Winterfell. Theon had been given so much more than he believed he had deserved. The Theon Greyjoy who grew up at Winterfell no longer existed. Nor did the Theon who took Winterfell and betrayed the Starks. The Theon who was tortured by Ramsey, gone. Reek? Gone, gone. Theon Greyjoy had been reborn; he had been redeemed completely. Theon had survived, not just the Long Night. Not just his uncle. But every single thing that had led him to that moment in the Godswood, he had survived. He could do more than that now. He could live.

It was his sister he’d wanted to see. Wanted to apologise again, although Theon wasn’t sure about what. He had left her, but she had allowed him to do that. He still felt some guilt. He was a Greyjoy, he had pledged to follow her, she was his Queen. But at that moment, going back to Winterfell was the most important thing for Theon. He had to face those ghosts one last time.

But that wasn’t going to happen, not for Theon. It was late afternoon when Sansa had told him. She looked weary and tired, clearly things had not been going well in King’s Landing. But she didn’t mention that, only of Theon’s news.

“Yara’s dead.”

After those two words, everything else seemed to stop. Theon had stopped listening to Sansa, although he wasn’t sure she had said anything else. It was possible she let the news sit with Theon, let it sink in, until Theon finally realised what she had just told him. His vision became blurred, he could only see the red from Sansa’s hair in the distance, the black from her dress. Everything else was gone. His breathing seemed to pitch up and his blinking, could he blink? Theon wasn’t so sure. Theon had not been awake that long after the battle, he was supposed to recover, supposed to heal. But he could only think of one thing. His sister.

Theon was the one who was supposed to die. He was the one who would sacrifice himself, finally atoning for what he had done. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Yara...she couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t right. Everything that had happened had led to her ruling the Iron Islands, the way it was supposed to be. Theon was never sure whether he would be able to stand by her side, but now he never would. No one would. She had been taken, by the waves, by the sea. She had drowned, the gods had taken her. Never to be seen again. She had floated out into the distance, where Theon couldn’t reach her.

Theon wasn’t going to pretend he and Yara had the best relationship. He didn’t remember much about her growing up. He’d told her she looked like a fat, little boy when he was taken from Pyke. As a baby he would cry and cry and cry. But Theon didn’t remember that. His memories of Pyke, his memories of his father, his mother, his brothers, his sister, even they were never clear enough. Everything was always over-clouded, overshadowed by the North. There were bits and pieces he would remember if he thought about it hard enough. His mother’s smile. His brother’s play fighting by the sea. A fat finger prodding him all over. His father’s angry expression. But nothing concrete. It didn’t matter. Theon wasn’t angry or upset. Those memories were not who he was. They didn’t define him. They never could.

But the memories of Winterfell always seemed far clearer. Robb’s laughter at any of Theon’s jokes. His anger. Lord and Lady Stark, their stern faces. Arya practicing with Theon’s bow. Sansa and her long, auburn hair. Little Bran and Rickon. The Maester. Ser Rodrik. These memories were now ruined, however, by what Theon had done. Taking Winterfell. Beheading Ser Rodrik. Burning the two little bodies. And then Reek’s memories, they would always come back to him. The ones he thought for long he deserved. Maybe he still did. Ramsey’s strange touch. The scars. The smell. The kennels. The hounds. Sansa. Her wedding dress. That night. Betraying her again. Escaping. Letting her go.

New memories sometimes found themselves in Theon’s mind. Returning to his sister. Travelling to Mereen. Standing by his sister’s side. Dragonstone. Jon’s kind words. Saving his sister. Winterfell. Sansa. The Godswood. Waking up, realizing he had made it. Theon’s memories had reborn; they had become something else. He had been given the chance to make new ones. Whether that was on Pyke or somewhere else, Theon did not know. But perhaps he shouldn’t waste it. Yara would not want him to waste it. Even with everything that had happened, he was her brother, and she loved him, in her way.

Meeting her again after so long away, Theon hadn’t given the best impression of her younger brother. Thinking back to how he had acted then, Theon felt ashamed. He felt ashamed about so many things, still now, particularly about that time. He knew that feeling would never leave him. This was the price he must pay to live, the Iron Price. He knew that now, though he wasn’t sure whether he had accepted it. Did he deserve to live? Deserve to want to live? He had hurt so many people, including his sister. But he had come back to her, to the Iron Islands, to Pyke. He had named her as his Queen, supported her and escaped Euron with her. It was something, something Theon could hang onto. He would have to. There were not many happy memories between the two and now there wouldn’t be.

But none of that mattered now, not truly. She was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. Theon was alone in the world. The only Greyjoy left. This wasn’t right. He couldn’t be the last one, it should never have been him. Yara, it was supposed to be Yara. It should always have been Yara. She would have taken great pride in being the last one, she would have made sure all of Westeros remembered the Greyjoys, remembered the name. Theon knew he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t up to that. Yara and Theon were so different. He wasn’t her and she wasn’t him. He couldn’t do anything for her memory. Not one thing.

It wasn’t until Sansa brought up the subject that Theon realised with both Yara and Euron gone, there was only one person left who could rule the Iron Islands. Theon. But no. Theon couldn’t. He wasn’t fit to rule. He didn’t deserve to rule. He didn’t want to. But he was the last Greyjoy left. He was the last link to his father. His father, Balon Greyjoy. His father, who had shipped him away to the North. His father, who had bent the knee. His father, who never seemed to have any love for Theon. His father, who named Yara as his heir. His father, who died alone. What a father he was. Jon had once told Theon that Ned Stark was more of a father than the Greyjoy Lord ever was. Theon’s real father had lost his head at King’s Landing. Wasn’t that what Theon had told Ramsey once? What connection did Theon have with his father? Not one that mattered. His connection was stronger with the Starks, with Winterfell and the North.

Theon couldn’t rule, he just couldn’t. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be the reigning Lord over a place he could hardly remember. It was supposed to be Yara. They were supposed to have their Queen. Their first Queen. After everything, how could he go back? He couldn’t go back, not there. He didn’t deserve to go back. Theon spent so much of his life being torn between Winterfell and Pyke. He seemed to belong to neither, floating between the two. The Northerners always saw him as an outsider, a sheep in wolf clothing. And when he went back to Pyke, he didn’t belong there. He didn’t dress like the Iron Born, sound like the Iron Born, didn’t look like the Iron Born. He wasn’t Iron Born.

But how could he desert the Iron Born? The ones who were left. So many died as Theon should have in the Godswood. Yara had taken her remaining ships home or had intended to. She hadn’t made it. And Euron, he was gone too. Killed by Jaime Lannister. How was this possible? This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. Theon knew what had to happen. He had it all planned out in his head. His death, his sacrifice, was one of the first things he would have control over again. How could it have gone so wrong? And what about the Iron Born? The men who had followed Yara with no real idea how it would end for them. They didn’t want Theon as their ruler, they wanted Yara. What could Theon do for them? He wasn’t worthy of it. Wasn’t worthy of anything.

Yara was sworn by duty to lead her men, the Iron Born to do what had to be done. It was something that Theon admired about her. She seemed to know what the right thing was to do, always. Whether anyone else thought it was right was another thing completely. Theon didn’t share that quality with his sister. There always seemed to be a choice he had to make, an impossible one. But maybe there wasn’t one now. The Iron Islands had been ruled by the Greyjoys for so long, would he really be the last Greyjoy? The one to end that. Yara had a duty. But she was gone. Was that duty now Theon’s?

Self-doubt and self-hatred were only two feelings that occupied Theon. They had occupied him for so long now, they had become a part of him. These feelings were why Theon couldn’t do it, he couldn’t take his sisters place. He was not like Yara, he never was and never could be. Even when he would pretend, he and everyone else knew it was all a front, knew it was not real. How would Theon even rule? Could he even do it? Could he replace his sister? No, no one could. Theon had spent many years at Winterfell wishing to go home, knowing that when he returned, he would be treated like a King, the heir of the Iron Islands, they had been waiting for him. But that didn’t happen, of course it didn’t. He was a fool. A stupid, fool. But worse men had been a Lord of a great house. This didn’t make Theon feel any better, however. Just worse.

This did mean something, however. Theon could do home. His family home. Where he was born. Where he was supposed to grow up. But Pyke never truly felt like Theon’s home. There was a part of Theon that knew he couldn’t leave the Iron Islands. He couldn’t let the people, the Iron Born fend for themselves. But he didn’t want to leave the North now, not when he had come back. Winterfell didn’t feel like a home growing up, but Theon thought now that his younger self never allowed it to be a home. He didn’t even try. Even though Theon spent so many years wishing it was his home, wishing he was a real Northerner, wishing he was a Stark, he couldn’t let himself wish too much.

Theon had spent so many years at Winterfell. Those years under Ramsey’s belt didn’t make it feel like a home, but a nightmare. Regardless of that, there was someone at Winterfell who understood completely, who was probably dealing with the same feelings of confusion. Sansa. She was here, she was at Winterfell, she was surviving. If she could do it, why not Theon? Sansa had seemingly overcome everything that had happened to her. She had changed, it had made her who she was. She was strong. Stronger than Theon ever could be. She was healing. She had lost people too. She had lost siblings, just as Theon had. But she wasn’t the last Stark, she still had a family. Something Theon could only dream of.

But there was a family who would welcome Theon, maybe not with welcome arms, but still, they would want him. He had seemingly always been a part of this family, even when he didn’t believe it himself. He was part of this family when he first arrived in the North. When he would sit next to Robb in the great hall. When he would practice his archery in the courtyard. When he would tease little Arya. It was unconventional, that was true, but the Starks were more of a family than the Greyjoys ever were. They were not given the chance too. Two brothers dead. A mother dead. A father filled with so much hatred. And a sister…a sister. Gods, Theon didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t. How could they ever be a family? How could Theon ever have one? Theon wondered if he asked to stay at Winterfell, whether they would let him. Sansa, maybe. The way she hugged him tight when he arrived back, that seemed to signal something.

That sense of divided loyalty, that feeling Theon felt for almost all of his life, it wasn’t going to control Theon anymore. He didn’t have to choose. He was connected to both Pyke and Winterfell. To both the North and the Iron Islands. He was both a Greyjoy and a Stark. And he was going to be Lord of the Iron Islands whether he liked it or not. He knew this was what he had to do. Knew it was important. For Yara.

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