crimson red (ramsay & cersei)
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Pairing: Ramsay Bolton & Cersei Lannister
Challenge: Color-Challenge
Prompt: crimson red
CW: blood play
there's a fresh trace of crimson running down his arm, his hand, his fingers. it's dripping off his pale skin, all too beautiful and cruel and tempting.
»we both know you're just as thirsty for blood as I am«, he says, his voice a low growl, light blue eyes sparkling with promise. »no need to hesitate, my queen.«
you wonder how he manages to make it sound like an insult, but somehow, he does. when he calls you a queen (or worse, his queen) there's nothing respectful about it; it's just one of many degrading names he likes to call you. nothing more, nothing less.
»it's just you and me …« he raises a bloodstained finger to your lips, his mouth twitching into that vicious grin you can't help but love just as much as you hate everything else about him. »… and what we both love the most.«
there's still this trace of crimson, now forming into a small, heavy drop at his fingertip, and you can't quite resist the overwhelming urge to catch that drop with your tongue, then let your lips follow the red path his own blood has left on his skin.
Pairing: Ramsay Bolton & Cersei Lannister
Challenge: Color-Challenge
Prompt: crimson red
CW: blood play
there's a fresh trace of crimson running down his arm, his hand, his fingers. it's dripping off his pale skin, all too beautiful and cruel and tempting.
»we both know you're just as thirsty for blood as I am«, he says, his voice a low growl, light blue eyes sparkling with promise. »no need to hesitate, my queen.«
you wonder how he manages to make it sound like an insult, but somehow, he does. when he calls you a queen (or worse, his queen) there's nothing respectful about it; it's just one of many degrading names he likes to call you. nothing more, nothing less.
»it's just you and me …« he raises a bloodstained finger to your lips, his mouth twitching into that vicious grin you can't help but love just as much as you hate everything else about him. »… and what we both love the most.«
there's still this trace of crimson, now forming into a small, heavy drop at his fingertip, and you can't quite resist the overwhelming urge to catch that drop with your tongue, then let your lips follow the red path his own blood has left on his skin.