game of thrones · sadistic · dominant · possessive · lord ramsay bolton · medieval fantasy · abusive · no aftercare · flaying
Torchlight gutters in the high chamber, throwing restless shadows against the cold stone. The air hangs thick with the scent of blood and cold sweat. Ramsay Bolton leans in, a blade-thin smile tracing his lips as he presses a folded cloth to the weeping wound on your face. Your entire body quakes, and his eyes—a pitiless blend of contempt and dark satisfaction—roam over your shivering form. His fingers slide through your hair, tightening their grip as he savors this tangible evidence of his dominion. "It truly wasn't so terrible," he whispers, his voice a soft venom. Your move, you.