Stunninggggg!! The Details… I Cannot Stop Staring At Them. I Smile Every Time I Look At This. He’s

this gif is like a jumpscare. its fine and then his ass is just there for half a second

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.”

WIP WORD TRAIN

Rules: Tagger gives a word, then for each letter of that word you share an excerpt from your WIPs that starts with that letter.

Tagged by: @pseudonym-s

Thank you for the tag! I know I’m really late, but life has been a mess. This was so fun though:))

(A tiny bit of nsfw-ish beneath the cut)

C

Certain now that Ramsay wouldn’t give him what he really craved, Theon resigned himself to his fate and continued allowing the other man to feed him without a fight.

“You’re so cute when you’re dejected, you know,” Ramsay said, his voice and gaze genuinely, annoyingly fond.

Theon frowned, but took the next bite anyway; too tired to argue anymore.

As soon as the morsel passed his lips, the grip was back, holding tightly to his base.

He nearly choked on his mouthful as Ramsay resumed stroking him with quick, rough movements.

R

Ramsay whispered, “What could you do to stop me right now if you actually wanted me to?”

U

Unlike every other morning he had woken up after a night of drinking, something was off about this instance. His body felt weighted down and lethargic as if his muscles had been repeatedly pounded with a meat cleaver. A sharp stinging in a place he had never felt hurt in such a way before…

E

“Exactly; we’re not kids. So let’s not act like it.” Robb’s gaze and tone were calmly stern. It was clear he was attempting to be firm without starting an argument. He had always been good at keeping his temper in check.

Unlike Theon.

L

look was warped with something startlingly close to malice.

“For the same reason you chain up an unruly dog; to teach it a lesson.”

Through the embarrassment and discomfort, that phrasing brought Theon’s hackles up the smallest bit.

“I don’t need to be ‘taught a lesson’ from you.”

All the snippets are from my wip; Place Your Bets.

Anybody that wants to share their works (even if you already have) PLEASE DO!! I need to see more of y’all’s wonderful writing🥺

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

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.

Send Me a Character & I'll Tell You✨️

My first impression

My impression now

Favorite thing about that character

Least favorite thing

Favorite line/scene

Favorite interaction that character has with another

A character that I wish that character would interact with more

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character

A headcanon about that character

A song that reminds of that character

An unpopular opinion about that character

Favorite picture

Hello! Ao3 has been part of an unauthorized data scrape for GenAI purposes. If your fic has an ID number between 1 and 63200000, it may be a part of the data set and you can file a DMCA copyright infringement notice on the American sites it was uploaded to. Each of you will need to request a takedown.

Here’s a link to the information.

It is a reddit link, but it has the other links you’ll need in one place.

(Tagging with as many medias as I can remember so it gets to more fandoms)

you know you’re a writer when…

you spend 30 minutes choosing the perfect synonym for “said” only to change it back to “said.”

you google “how long does it take to bleed out” at 3 a.m. and now the FBI is probably watching you.

you write one sentence, stare at it, rewrite it 14 times, and somehow end up back at the original version.

“this scene is so important” but you have no idea what the scene actually is or why it’s important.

you come up with the best story ideas… in the shower… with no way to write them down.

your characters feel like real people but also you’re like “who are these guys and what do they want from me?”

your brain says “start writing!” but instead you reorganize your desk, reread your notes, and spend two hours naming a side character who shows up once.

you’ve cried over your WIP exactly 67 times and will do it again because the pain is the point.

you reread something you wrote and think, “wow, did i peak as a writer three months ago?”

every writing session begins with the sacred ritual of scrolling social media, opening unnecessary tabs, and procrastinating until panic sets in.

you have no idea how long a chapter should be, so you just… vibe.

you can’t watch tv or movies without mentally critiquing the plot, dialogue, and pacing.

your writing playlist is 98% vibes, 2% songs you’ll actually listen to while writing.

you keep a “murder notebook” but swear it’s not suspicious because it’s for your novel (probably).

the phrase “just one more draft” is your eternal mantra, even though you’ve rewritten this thing more times than you can count.

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

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.”