#sandor clegane x you

[enveine]

when doves cry - s. clegane: chapter one (pilot)

pairing: sandor clegane x f!eldest stark reader summary: your loyalty to your family is unwavering, a steadfast commitment that defines your character. however, navigating the turbulent waters of newfound, intense emotions for a man devoted to a family starkly opposed to your own will challenge the foundations of this loyalty. as you stand on the precipice of conflicting allegiances, the question looms: what sacrifices would you make in the name of love? rating: 18+ word count: 4.4k chapter warnings: smut, "we just met but I want to fuck you", kinda ooc sandor, language, story loosely follows the timeline of S1, semi-public sex- very risky, rough sex, reader probably cares more about what's happening then sandor does, hickeys in hidden places, unprotected piv sex, angst, "we just fucked and now we're practically going to be living together".

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The great hall of Winterfell buzzed with activity as the Stark family prepared for the arrival of King Robert Baratheon and his entourage. You were the eldest daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark, so you knew all eyes were going to be on you; a young woman of noble birth, at an age desperate to be married well. You moved gracefully through the throngs of people, your eyes keenly observing the bustling preparations. You wore a simple but elegant gown, the Stark colors proudly displayed.

A little nervous, to be expected. Nothing a little ride couldn’t fix.

On the way back, you noticed that winter truly had begun its descent upon the land, the air frigid and the wind mighty. The crunch of snow beneath the hooves of your horse echoed through the trees as you headed back towards Winterfell. You were eager to greet the royal party.

As you approached the stable, you hear the unmistakable clatter of hooves against the cobblestone. The royal retinue had arrived. Intrigued, you watch closely to see the beautiful ocean of golden banners, curiosity piqued by the impending arrival of the king.

The gate swung open, revealing the group of visitors. Your gaze was drawn to a towering figure at the back of the party. A man of imposing stature, his face hidden beneath a twisted helm, and clad in dark, rugged armor. He radiated an air of danger that made the other courtiers instinctively give him a wide berth.

Still mounted, you took a step back, closer to your direwolf Nyx. You watched him with a curious gaze. As he sat there, a silent sentinel also mounted upon his horse, you felt a shiver run down your spine as his gaze met your own.

"Who's that?" you inquired, directing the question to a nearby stable boy.

The boy hesitated before answering, "That's the Hound, my Lady. Sandor Clegane, the King's dog."

You clicked your tongue, “King’s dog, huh?” a small laugh, “Interesting title.”

You watched as the man dismounted, your eyes narrowing with interest. He moved with a certain controlled grace, his movements deliberate and purposeful. An unexpected shiver ran down your spine as you observed the mysterious figure. There was something about him that defied the norms of courtly behavior, an untamed quality that set him apart. In a sea of polished knights and well-mannered courtiers, he was a dark anomaly.

You couldn't help but be intrigued by the mysterious figure. Your eyes lingered on him, studying the scars that marred his face. There was a hardness in his gaze that suggested a life of brutality, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the man beneath the armor.

Your eyes met for the briefest moment, a flicker of connection that sent a jolt through your spine. Quickly averting her gaze, you tried ignoring the heart pounding feeling in her chest. The Hound continued on, seemingly indifferent to the glances and whispers that followed him. After his eyes left yours, you couldn’t help but watch his every move again. That man, Sandor Clegane, he was beautiful.

And he was coming right towards you.

As you dismounted her horse, the Hound's attention shifted briefly to her. You felt a twinge of discomfort under his scrutinizing gaze, but being the strong-minded Stark you were, held your ground. Nyx, ever vigilant, growled softly at the Hound, who merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"You a Stark girl?" he grumbled, his voice rough and devoid of warmth.

You nodded, a defiant yet humorous spark in your eyes. "Well I stand before you wearing Stark colors. I’d hope so. (Y/N) Stark. And you are?"

"The Hound. Sandor Clegane," he replied with a hint of mockery. "King's dog, they call me."

You arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "A dog, you say?” In a bold move, your eyes slowly moved up and down, taking in a good look of his entire figure. “I don’t see a collar.”

His lips twitched, almost forming a reluctant smirk. It was a rare sight, a crack in his stoic facade.

“Well, dog, I hope you’re house-trained.”

Your exchange was brief, but in that moment, something shifted. A connection, unspoken and unacknowledged, lingered between the two of you. The Hound turned away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving you with a lingering sense of curiosity and an unsettling awareness that even though you’d just met that man—you wanted more of him.

Later that night, the great hall of Winterfell resounded with the clinking of goblets and the boisterous laughter of the guests. You found yourself drawn into the festivities, attempting to put aside the enigmatic encounter with Sandor Clegane. The feast in honor of King Robert Baratheon's visit was in full swing, and the Stark family showed they knew how to put together an extravagant feast.

As the night progressed, you caught glimpses of him across the crowded hall. His presence was ominous, and whispers of him still followed like shadows. Your curiosity mingled with a sense of unease, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that your brief exchange held a significance you couldn't fully comprehend.

You continued to mingle among the noble guests, trying to keep your eyes away from Sandor. But to no avail, you watched in-between pointless conversations as he stood at the outskirts of the celebration. His gaze fixed on the revelry with a mix of disdain and disinterest and you felt a peculiar pull, as if the currents of destiny were nudging you toward the enigmatic man.

An unexpected voice interrupted you in the middle of your thoughts. "(Y/N), you seem quite taken with the Hound," spoke your younger sister, Sansa Stark, her blue eyes glinting mischievously.

You raised an eyebrow and snorted out a laughter, attempting to conceal the obvious interest written in your eyes. "Taken? No, my dear Sansa. Merely curious. He is a formidable figure, after all." You put your arm between hers, nudging her body in the direction of the man who looked quite bored. “You know what mother always tells us. We are wolves, we must be the ones to pounce before the others.”

Sansa's gaze flitted between you and the man in question, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Well, just be careful. Rumors say he has a fearsome temper."

You chuckled at her, feigning nonchalance. "Rumors are just that—rumors. I'm sure there's more to him than meets the eye."

“Rumor has it that I think you’re full of rubbish.” She replied, a playful laugh falling from her lips.

“Oh Sansa, run off. Father needs you.” You nodded in the direction of your father, clearly enjoying his conversation with King Robert and his son, Joffrey.

Poor Sansa, you thought, that boy looks like nothing but trouble.

As the night wore on, you couldn't shake the feeling that their paths were destined to cross again. And fate intervened sooner than expected. The King's squire, Lancel Lannister, approached you with a cup of wine.

"From the Hound," he declared, offering you the goblet.

You hesitated, fingers brushing against the cold metal. You glanced in the direction of the Hound, who merely nodded in acknowledgment. Taking the wine, you nodded back with a small smile, and Lancel retreated into the shadows.

As you sipped the wine, the rich flavor lingered on her lips. As you found yourself drawn once more Sandor, you wondered what he’d taste like lingering on your lips. As your eyes met, a silent understanding passed between the two of you—a forming connection, born from the flames of need for passion.

Eventually, after a few more cups of wine, you found yourself standing at the edge of the hall, watching the dancers twirl to the music. A deep voice behind you interrupted your thoughts. "You fancy dancing, Lady (Y/N)?"

You turned to find Sandor standing there, his burned face impassive. "I can dance if the occasion calls for it," you replied, your eyes meeting his with something you couldn’t describe, but you could definitely feel it.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "She’s a wolf with claws, then."

You were undeterred by his nature, offering a playful smile. "You sure seem to enjoy lurking in the shadows, Ser Clegane. Is that where you find your solace?"

He grunted, a low sound that could be mistaken for a chuckle. "Solace is overrated. I prefer the edge of the firelight."

You tilted your head, curls cascading over your shoulder. "A mysterious man, I see. Are you afraid the light will reveal too much?"

Sandor's lips twitched into a half-smile, a rare sight on his scarred face. "Some things are better left in the dark."

Leaning in, you whispered, "But not everything. Some things are meant to be uncovered." You caught the glint in his eye, a flicker of something lustful beneath the rough exterior.

The conversation continued, the banter growing more flirtatious with each exchange. You teased and prodded, finding amusement in the unexpected connection you felt with the man. He, in turn, responded with a gruff charm that surprised even himself.

Eventually, he left you with short instructions, “Broken tower.”

At last, you found yourself in the quiet solitude with the idea of getting to know Sandor better. In a way you’d known nobody before. The anticipation of his presence weighed on you, and a flutter of nerves danced in your stomach. The air was charged with a different kind of energy, one that held the promise of a connection that transcended the boundaries of right and wrong.

A soft knock on the door signaled his arrival, and when you opened it, there he stood, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of intensity and vulnerability. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over his scarred face, softening the harsh lines that had witnessed battles and hardships.

"I thought we might continue our conversation," he rumbled, his voice carrying a note of sincerity that caught you off guard, especially when he roughly grabbed your cheeks in his hands and pressed his lips against yours. Your heart raced as you welcomed his tongue inside your mouth, trying your best to close the door.

The room pulsed with palpable tension, igniting like a fervent flame, as your hands yearned to make contact with him in every possible manner. The warmth emanating from your skin created a contrast against the cold, unyielding metal of his armor. Restless and eager, your hands became a silent testament to the unspoken urgency of your desire.

Sandor's gaze remained fixed on yours throughout, ablaze with a passion you had long yearned for—a fervor you couldn't fathom experiencing with the man standing before you.

Your teeth sank into his lower lip, coaxing a resonant, primal groan from him, prompting his reluctant withdrawal. "She's a wolf with claws and teeth," he chuckled, wiping away the trace amount of blood that had emerged from the newfound wound.

Rather than offering a response, your body found itself pressed against the wall, his calloused hand gently mitigating the impact on your head. "Couldn’t very well carry our conversation with your lips against mine," you remarked at last, tilting your head to the side as his lips met the tender skin of your neck.

He stopped for a moment- another faint chuckle coming before continuing, “aye, that was the point.”

Sandor persisted in tracing kisses along your neck, momentarily pausing only to leave subtle bites in places known only to him. In this moment, he recognized that he was on the brink of losing all restraint, evident in the autonomy of his hands, which seemed to explore every inch of your body with a desire you willingly indulged. Oh, how willingly you would allow him to continue.

“Sandor, please, I need-” you were cut off mid sentence by him grabbing your right leg and wrapping it around his waist. The cold metal hid his hardening cock—the feeling of it against your warm skin made you anticipate his every move. “If we’re g-gonna do this.. we need to hurry..”

“You need to keep quiet.”

His lips descended, caressing the delicate fabric of your dress. His fingers deftly maneuvered to release you from its confines with a sense of urgency; there was an animalistic quality to his actions—rough fingers, accompanied by soft growls, responding to the rhythmic dance of your body against his determined hold. A silent plea resonated, a tacit acknowledgment that you craved everything he was willing to bestow upon you.

A hushed stillness enveloped the space for the next few moments, broken only when he skillfully lowered your dress, unveiling your tits. Sandor's fingers delicately traced the contours of each nipple, his unwavering gaze captivated by their response. With each circular motion, they seemed to intensify in firmness, a testament to the heightened sensitivity your body exhibited in mere minutes of his touch. He reveled in the allure of your immediate responsiveness.

If anyone were to walk in they’d see such a pornographic sight: the beloved, eldest daughter of Ned Stark, nipples hard and swollen, dress hiked up to her waist while the Prince’s hound let her hump his armor. By this point, you'd wager that the burgeoning dampness in your silk panties had left its mark on the cool silver surface, a silent proclamation of your possession of the man. Yet, the mutual understanding between you both acknowledged that any unsuspecting onlooker venturing in would be treated to an undeniable spectacle.

If this were your first time, perhaps a hint of nervousness would have crept in, particularly as you sensed his hands gently sliding your panties down to your knees. Yet, even in such a moment, his adept handling imparted a profound sense of security. This man, bound by oath to safeguard his King, was now silently pledging to protect you with equal devotion.

But, fortunately, nothing could protect your body from what Sandor was about to do.

Seating himself on the ground after loosening his leather pants, he then drew you down to join him. As you settled onto his lap, he playfully grazed against your entrance with his cock, all the while continuing his descent of kisses along your neck. With a stern tone, he uttered, "My Lady, speak the word and I’ll stop."

Gazing into his eyes, you found them ablaze with desire, mirroring the fervor you sensed within yourself. His captivating eyes, the unsteady cadence of his breath, and the formidable frame enveloping you in its embrace—you desired nothing else in that moment.

“I don’t think such words exist.” You whispered.

At last, your lips met again with an intense passion, and as he slowly pushed his cock inside, his kiss carried a raw urgency that you eagerly reciprocated. Midway, a soft moan escaped as an indescribable sensation stirred in your stomach. Gazing down, your eyes caught a glimpse of your warmth enveloping him voraciously—a hunger akin to a famished wolf.

Sandor wasn’t even in completely.

His hips moved gradually against yours, a measured rhythm aiming to acquaint you with his full length. Pressed chest to chest, he sensed the rapid cadence of your intense heartbeat, but as his fingers traced small circles on your thighs, he felt it gradually subside. Sandor understood that in due course, he would sense the resurgence of your elevated heart rate, particularly when he ultimately filled you entirely. The connection was palpable, your pelvis intimately aligned with his.

He sustained a consistent rhythm, guiding your hips in a reciprocal dance of thrusts. The entire encounter was swift and purposeful, each thrust delivered with a sense of urgency, as if time were a constraint. In a sense, it was, considering the uncertainty of someone stumbling upon you at any moment.

Yet, beneath it all, an undercurrent of passion prevailed. The symphony of your gasps harmonized with his occasional groans, creating a melodic atmosphere. Your hand remained anchored on the back of Sandor's neck like a steadying handlebar, providing support as his thrusts intensified. It felt fitting that this was how Sandor Clegane fucked his women—clothed, he embodied roughness and intensity; how could one become tender and affectionate when undressed?

The familiar sensation of tightness formed in your stomach, and truth be told, there was a hint of disappointment in how swiftly the entire encounter unfolded. Yet, the lack of surprise lingered; he had proven to be the quickest in getting you into bed. The inexplicable allure he held over you remained a mystery, but in this moment, such thoughts were irrelevant—especially when you stood on the brink of blissful release.

Suddenly, a surge of sensation swept over you as his hand enveloped your throat. Sandor felt the subtle tightening of your walls around his cock, a telltale sign that you were teetering on the edge. He sought to bring you to that exquisite pleasure. Amidst the crescendo of your growing moans reverberating against the tower walls, his grip tightened, not to stifle your ecstasy but to cloak the sounds and shield the secrecy of your rendezvous.

As tears cascaded down your cheeks in response to the overwhelming pleasure, he spoke, "That's it, (Y/N), that's it…" It was as if he momentarily shed his usual demeanor, softening as he observed you in your vulnerable state. However, amidst the whirlwind that had your head spinning and everything fading to white, the only thing you could truly register was the profound impact of your orgasm.

Sandor wasn't far behind, withdrawing as you caught your breath, leaving your back adorned in ribbons of white cum. A soft whine escaped you as you felt it trickle down, accompanied by his heightened groans that surpassed those from when he was inside you. The aftermath left both of you in a hushed stillness, contemplating who would break the silence first. It was him, rising to his feet after moving your body off his lap and discreetly tucking his softening cock back into his trousers. He handed you a handkerchief, a gesture to cleanse the now drying traces from your back.

You wondered whether he would abandon you in the tower, retreat to his quarters, or perhaps rejoin the now dwindling party. To your surprise, he didn't. Instead, he extended his hand, helping you rise and assisting in the process of reclothing yourself. It was a considerate gesture, you acknowledged, yet it only added to the palpable tension that seemed to be mounting. You were certain Sandor could discern it in your expression—the subtle frown betraying your disappointment that the encounter had concluded. As you gazed at him, you searched for any sign of shared sentiment, any indication that he, too, would miss the intimacy you had just shared. Regrettably, you found nothing.

The air outside the tower was crisp, and the moon cast a silvery glow across the surroundings as Sandor led you down the winding path to your quarters. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, the tension between you two lingering even in the cool night air.

The journey was silent, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the soft echo of your footsteps on the cobblestone path. Sandor's hand, firm yet strangely comforting, guided you through the dimly lit passages of the castle.

As you approached your quarters, a mix of conflicting emotions washed over you. There was a longing for something more, a desire to bridge the gap between the intimacy you'd just shared and the reality of the castle walls around you. The silence between you spoke volumes, a tacit acknowledgment of the uncharted territory you both found yourselves in.

Upon reaching your door, Sandor released your hand, and for a moment, it felt like a sudden loss. He stood there, his expression unreadable in the muted moonlight. You searched his eyes for any sign of what lay beneath the surface, but they remained enigmatic.

"Goodnight, Lady (Y/N)," Sandor gruffly uttered, breaking the silence. The words hung in the air, a simple farewell laden with unspoken complexities.

"Goodnight, Sandor Clegane," you replied, your voice soft and tinged with a hint of something unsaid. As you entered your quarters, the door closing behind you, the weight of the night settled in.

Alone in the hushed sanctuary of your quarters, the echoes of the night's encounter reverberated through the room. The emotions, like an unruly storm, swirled within you, and the dam holding them back began to crack.

As you stood there, the weight of what had transpired bore down on you. The tears, uninvited, welled up in your eyes and spilled over, tracing the contours of your cheeks. It wasn't just the physical intimacy that left you shaken; it was the tangled web of emotions that accompanied it.

Regret gnawed at you, and confusion settled in like a heavy fog. What had led you to this precipice, and where did you stand now? The vulnerability of the moment washed over you, leaving you adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.

Fumbling with the fastenings of your dress, you sought solace in the act of undressing, as if shedding the layers would somehow alleviate the burden you carried. The moonlight filtering through the window cast shadows across the room, emphasizing the isolation you felt.

Laying on the bed, your tears soaked into the fabric beneath you, a silent lament for the choices made and the uncharted territories navigated. The intimacy, though a fleeting connection, left a profound impact, and the aftermath left you grappling with a whirlwind of emotions.

As the night wore on, the tears eventually subsided, leaving behind a quiet ache and a lingering question of what the dawn would bring. In the solace of your room, you found yourself wrestling with the complexities of desire, regret, and the uncertain path ahead.

The morning sun painted Winterfell in hues of gold, casting a warm light over the courtyard. Despite the tender touch of dawn, the echoes of the previous night's emotions still sat within your heart.

A soft knock on your door signaled the entrance of your father, whose countenance bore the strength of responsibility. "(Y/N)," he began with a softness, "gather your sisters. There's something we must discuss."

Compelled by both curiosity and a lingering sense of unrest, you summoned Arya and Sansa to join you in the family chambers. As the three of you assembled, a somber atmosphere enveloped the room, foreshadowing the gravity of your father's impending words.

Ned stood before you, a stalwart figure. "My daughters," he started, his voice bearing both love and gravitas, "a change is upon us. I have been offered the position of Hand of the King by King Robert."

Sansa's eyes widened, Arya's skepticism palpable, and you exchanged a glance with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.

"We will be relocating to King's Landing," Ned continued, his gaze encompassing each of you. "It is an honor, but with it comes great responsibility. The court is a labyrinth of politics and intrigue, and I need my family by my side."

Arya's rebellious spirit simmered beneath the surface, while Sansa's excitement mingled with trepidation. As for you, the events of the night before lingered, making the move to King's Landing feel like an unexpected twist in the intricate tapestry of your life.

Amidst the familial exchanges, there was another silent dance occurring—one between you and Sandor. His eyes constantly drew your gaze. It was as if an invisible thread connected you, and in those moments, the world around you blurred as your eyes met his, wordlessly conveying a shared understanding of the complexities unfolding.

Ned Stark, seemingly oblivious to the subtle interplay, continued to outline the responsibilities that awaited the Stark family in the capital. As he spoke, your eyes frequently found Sandor's, and each exchange carried a weight of unspoken emotions. His gaze, normally guarded, held a hint of something that transcended the stoic exterior he presented to the world.

When Ned mentioned the unity of the Stark family in facing the challenges ahead, your eyes involuntarily sought out Sandor's once more. In that shared gaze, there was a recognition that echoed the uncertainties of the path ahead and the uncharted territories that lay before you.

The air seemed heavy with the weight of impending change as you sought out Sandor in the quiet corners of the castle. You found him in a secluded courtyard, the familiar hounds of House Stark milling about nearby. The atmosphere was tense, and the silent exchange of glances from before lingered in your mind.

"Sandor," you began, your voice cutting through the stillness. He turned to face you, his expression guarded but expectant.

The words tumbled out, the night before demanding acknowledgement. "What happened between us… it was unexpected, and now with the move to King's Landing, I don't know what this means."

Sandor's gaze, normally impenetrable, softened in a rare display of vulnerability. "It means nothing, my Lady. Just a moment in time, and we move on."

But you couldn't shake the lingering questions. "Is that all it was to you? Just a moment?"

He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours with a raw honesty. "It was more than that, but it's not something that fits into our worlds."

A surge of frustration mixed with a tinge of sadness swept over you. "Our worlds? What does that mean, Sandor? We're both headed to King's Landing. We're both a part of whatever is coming next."

His gaze held a complexity that mirrored the conflict within. "In King's Landing, there's a different kind of game being played. I’m not the one to bring into your world, and you sure as hell don't belong in mine."

The words stung, but there was a resignation in his tone, as if he sought to shield you from the harsh realities he faced daily.

You took a step closer, unwilling to let the unspoken linger. "I can decide what world I belong to, Sandor. And right now, I want to understand what this is between us."

He sighed, a mixture of frustration and reluctance. "We're just two people caught up in a storm. Best not to overthink it."

Before you could press further, the sound of footsteps approached, and the courtyard suddenly felt less secluded. Sandor's eyes met yours once more, a silent understanding passing between you.

"In King's Landing, things will have to change," he muttered, his tone a gruff acknowledgment of the challenges ahead.

The bittersweet taste of truth lingered in the air as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your forehead. A silent understanding passed between you, a farewell woven with unspoken regrets and the inevitability of parting ways.

As the distance between your bodies widened, the courtyard seemed to stretch infinitely. The angst that clung to the parting moments left an indelible ache, a silent ache that would resonate in the chambers of your heart long after the echoes of Sandor's footsteps faded into the shadows.

"I don't want to lose you," you confessed in your mind.

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog

+:✿ Chapter - 1 ✿:+ New Pretty Cage

next chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of animal death, alcohol consumption, mention of infant death, mention of parent(s) death, loras being very lgbtq , mention of arranged marriage. 

Leaving the Eyrie at first was exciting. You hated to admit it, you screamed at your father for even suggesting it, you cried like a child, but it was. The Eyrie was hardly a home, It was cold, isolated, and a constant reminder of what you’d lost. Kings Landing was warm, crowded, and offered a future outside of living in the past. 

Your father, Jon Arryn, was more than optimistic that you would find a suitor worthy of your name. Your aunt and now step mother, Lysa Arryn was elated at the opportunity of ridding her and Robin’s lives of you. 

After the death of your mother, Aemma of house Tully, your father married her sister, your aunt. You could have stomached it, you could have even forgiven it, if it weren’t for the fact your mother died during her labors of childbirth. 

As you and your father rode in the carriage, your mind couldn’t help but think of it. You’d spent your mothers entire pregnancy hoping she’d bear a son. You even prayed, prayed to the seven Gods whom you didn’t even believe in. You had hoped if the child was a boy, you wouldn’t have to be wed off to the best house name possible. 

What's worse, not only did the labors kill your mother, but it also killed your brother. You’d prayed for a brother and the Gods gave you a brother. But they took him away and your mother with him. 

You had spent days sulking, wallowing in grief. Unbeknownst to you, all the while your father was arranging his own marriage with Lysa. A son followed behind soon, Robin, the brat. You hated him, even if you were the same blood.

“We approach,” your father said under his breath. It was enough to bring you back to reality. 

“How long will I be here?” You asked, knowing the answer. Your father shot you a look with a furrowed brow, as if to say, “You already know.” You nodded as your concerned gaze turned to a glare as you looked out the carriage into the city. You lost your sweetness after your mother died, you were in no rush to get it back. 

“Who am I to wed?” You asked flatly, your stoic expression and eyes filled with venom shot outside of the carriage and away from your father. 

He sighed and looked upon you softly. “The Baratheon boys are eligible I suppose,” before he could finish you began. “Blondes, I have a distaste for blonde men.” You say as you rest your chin on your fist, still staring outside of the carriage. Your father let out a sigh about to lecture you on the importance of uniting families and the unimportance of such trivial things like personal happiness. But you cut him off, you look at him with eyes filled with venom, “I know you’ve a plan. You don’t go into anything blind.” he let out a small huff of a laugh as you arrived at the impressive castle. Your eyes did move from your fathers however. “You are just like your mother. Filled with angry eyes and hard questions.” Your eyes narrowed a bit, as the door to the carriage opened. 

“Welcome Lord Arryn, welcome Lady (Y/N)” 

Later that evening, you met the Lannisters and Baratheons over dinner. 

You took note of the “Baratheon boys” your father mentioned. Sons of the King. From all those story books you'd read as a girl you would have thought that Princes’s would be handsome, kind, gentle, and brave. However you weren’t a naive child anymore. So the scrawny and boyish looking Joffrey didn’t surprise you, but did disappoint you. And Tommen was boyish too however Tommen was just that, a boy, a child. You found yourself praying again, praying you wouldn’t be subjected to an arranged marriage between either of them. 

The dinner was mostly spent with your father and Robbert yammering, and occasionally people needing to remind you that you were being spoken to. 

It was strange, on one hand you were excited to be out of the isolation of the Eyrie, on the other hand you couldn’t care less about the people around you. That was until the royal family's guard stepped into the room. The man was giant, standing at least 6 '6, his shoulders were so broad he had to step into a room at an angle. You felt your eyes linger on the figure just a second too long. Reverting it back to your hands in your lap. 

You felt her cheeks blush, you felt yourself get embarrassed by this. But the thing is you’ve never seen a man like that. You never saw a man that big, a man that broad, ever. The Eyrie was secluded and maybe men from the vale were just shorter. Maybe this was a southern thing. Before you could roll the thought around your brain for long, the hulking figure walked to the opposite side of the room, it was only then when you noticed his face lit by the candle lights.You saw the left side of his face first. His face was masculine, there was nothing about his appearance that was feminine. As you analyzed his face, he turned it towards you which is when you saw the opposite of his face. It was horribly scarred, all the hair on his face was burnt off and ribboned in scarred tissue. 

It was beautiful. You’d never seen anything like it. 

You didn’t break your gaze as it was intertwined with the giant in the room. His deep brown eyes seemed somewhat confused with something about you. You felt the blush returning to your cheeks and nose as you studied him. You only broke your improper gaze once you felt the dread you feel everytime your fathers gaze comes towards you. You were able to look away before he noticed. He grabbed ahold of your hand and shot you a half hearted smile hoping your sour mood would magically improve with this minimal affection. However the daggers in your eyes did not surrender. 

You spent the following days walking around the castle, hoping for another glimpse at the man everyone feared so terribly. You asked your father about him, “He’s the royal family's dog, both the Cleganes are. They are not the kind of people I wish for you to be around.” You rolled your eyes, but the information you got from anyone else was no better. His monstrous and vile actions. His temper is so fierce he’d kill anyone without a second thought. But when you saw his eyes, those deep brown eyes, they weren’t mean or angry they were sad. They were scared.

Days in this shit city were long, and often just as boring as the days in the Eyrie. Only instead of a shivering cold there was a sticky warmth. Instead of Lysa and Robin there was Cersei and Joffrey. At least Robin didn’t kill little creatures and beat girls for fun. 

There were some advantages to living here however. There were more books, more food, more drinks, more dresses, more music. Living so high in the mountain such luxuries were sparse. Luxuries like friends, of which you felt you gained a few. The Tyrells for example were the only people you felt you could be truly honest with. Specifically Loras, there was a sense of vulnerability you two shared with each other. Both of you are unhappy with the prospect of marriage, arranged specifically. You remember the time he confessed to you that he was in love with a man. You walked through the garden together, those times became special. The only times when you and he could speak plainly. You always thought of how lovely it would be to have a friend, someone to trust solely. You always thought it would be a woman but you couldn’t complain. 

You held onto his hands as he confessed. He said he wished he could change, to not be what he was. 

“Never,” You held onto his hands tighter “Never wish for such things. Change even a single thing of you and you aren’t you. And you are my friend, my dearest friend.” You whispered, he embraced you tightly. You however had a slight growing distaste for Renly, a man who brought such tears to your friend. 

To anyone secretly observing, it was courting. To you and he, it was friendship. In its purest way. 

Maybe your father was true to his promise, he’d find you a man whom you’d love, a man who was brave and gentle. Only this love was different. As he was the only person you could trust.

The two of you thought of a plan for you and the wedding of one another. It was a good plan, the two of you would be bound by love and respect of which you both shared for the other. And the two of you would be free to find romantic, and sexual love freely. Loras teased you’d be able to fuck all the KingsGaurd if The Hound did not please you. It made you giggle but blush in embarrassment like a little girl.

Honestly you and he would have had the most healthy relationship of all the realm, and the only difference would be the two of you never consummated. But who would need to know? 

You almost went through with it after the death of your father. If it weren’t for the fact Cersei forced her company upon you so much, you could have ran to the nearest septon and made your marriage official. But Cersei never left you alone, you were either with her, or one of her ladies. And, and you hated to admit it, you’d miss those butterflies in your belly anytime you caught The Hounds gaze. It makes your cheek red and your belly burn. And you loved it, it might have been the only reason you could have lived during those days. You spent anytime you got alone with Loras talking about The Hound, a topic he grew bored of quickly. So you also spoke of your marriage. 

However these plans changed at the arrival of your cousin Sansa. Upon her arrival you saw a girl who would never handle the city she was stepping into with such naive big eyes and fairy tale fantasies of her future. You agreed with Olenna that Loras should attempt to court Sansa prior to her wedding with Joffrey, one last attempt at her freedom. You began to care less and less of your own.

Selfless yes, but stupid. 

During the tournament you sat beside Sansa, and her father Nedd Stark who had such an affinity to your father apparently it was transferred to you now that he was dead and gone. She begged her father to stop the tournament. You wanted to roll your eyes at it, but you also wished someone would stop it as well. The Mountain, Gregor Clegane, scared you. He was different from his brother. The Hound was almost as big but he had a stoic and sad nature to him, even though everyone told you to beware. The brother you feared was Gregor, he was unstable, rabid, and frightened you to no end. You’d hoped your plan of him using your mare, who was in heat, would work. 

It was a trick, but a good one, if it worked. And it did, it upsets and confuses Gregor's mount. Gregor was thrown off his horse. You felt a wave of relief as Sansa stood and cheered. What you didn’t account for was Gregor's reaction. Gregor, absolutely furious, decapitated his own horse. You, still seated, grabbed ahold of Sansa’s arm as Gregor made his way to Loras. You sat and watched, you hoped someone, anyone would intervene. Renly, Nedd, the King, anyone. 

Just as you were sure that was the end, “Leave him be!” The giant man behind you roared. The Hound swung his sword blocking a fatal blow to Loras. You sat there, your eyes not wide but narrowed and brows furrowed. You studied the battle between these two brothers. You wondered why, why would this man risk his own life just to save one of Loras? If he was the merciless monster that everyone had claimed, why do this? As you watched these men fight you noticed, the noble men all fought as they were trained, this man fought as he knew would kill. He fought with experience. 

You couldn’t help but find it exciting. 

As The King called off this fight, The Hound dodged a fatal blow he simultaneously bowed to the King. This made your lips part slightly as you struggled to conceal a smile. 

As Loras named The Hound champion everyone stood and clapped, but not you. 

You sat and stared at the man, your cheeks with a renewed blush on them. You smiled softly at him, his gaze soon met your own. Once met, it was hard to break. 

You managed to weasel your way out of the sight of the Starks and Lannisters to check on Loras. As you made your way to the stables you didn’t find Loras but The Hound. You felt like you walked into a brick wall as you saw the Giant drinking from a wine skin sitting against the stable that held your own horse. He didn’t look at you as he said “Your pretty boy isn’t here, girl.” as he took another long swig of the wineskin in his fist. 

“I’m sure I don’t know who you refer to.” You lie as you slowly walk over to your horse. 

“Fuck you don’t.” He hissed  “Dirty trick you and that boy pulled.” 

“No honor in tricks.” You say feeding your horse some feed from your palm. 

“Honor,” He scuffs “only cunts believe in that shit.” your brows raised, you’d never heard a man curse so much. They rarely did in the company of a Lady. 

“There was honor in what you did, It was quite brave, Ser.” 

“I'm not a ser, I already told your pretty boy that.” 

“Loras is not my ‘pretty boy’” you said in a mocking tone making the hound crack a small smirk. 

“Fuck off,” He scuffed, “Round that boy you’re as in heat as that bitch mare in that stable.” 

“Is that why you came here? You sit in front of my mare's stable because you wanted to accuse me of having relations with a friend of mine?” You eyes shift from your mare to glare at him with disgust. His eyes locked with yours. He hardly needed to look up at you to see your eyes. 

“I don’t like the way you look at me.” He said flatly

“I don’t like the way you talk to me.” Your eyes went back to your mare. “Don’t talk to me like that and I won’t look at you like that.”

“Don’t matter how you look at me, just that you do.” He said as he took another swig. 

You looked down contemplating what that could have meant as you looked over to him. 

“Didn’t I just fuckin’ tell ya not to do that?” He growled however your gaze did not falter. 

“You did not, you said you don’t like it.” You asserted mockingly, not at all scared of this man beside you, even though you maybe should be.

He stood, showing just how small you were in comparison to him. As he loomed over you, his eyes raked over every part of you, avoiding your eyes. 

“It will serve you well to listen to a man. Save yourself some pain. Some men, like to hit stubborn girls like you. Men who like to beat them.” He said in a somewhat more gentle tone than before. 

Your eyes met him once more, as you looked up at him, you realized he’d never been so close to you. 

“And what of you? Are you one of those men?” You asked teasing him, testing his patience 

“Maybe,” he rasped “You don’t know the things I’ve done,” 

You turned your body towards him to face him completely. 

“You should be scared of me, of any man in this shit city.” 

“I should be, but I’m not. I tried to be, but I can’t make myself feel frightened by you.” You said fidgeting with your necklace. 

“I’m a killer,” He wrapped his fingers around your throat, but his grasp was hardly there at all, almost like he was hovering his hand there. “I could crush your pretty throat.” 

“Do it.” You said quickly, His brows furrowed, “You think I want to live here? Do it.” you held onto his wrist, needing both hands to grasp his thick wrist fully. “No, you won’t hurt me.” You say softly. 

His hand runs down your throat and lays flat engulfing your chest in his palm as his fingers laid on your collar bone. He felt your heartbeat for a moment, savoring it.  “No, no little bird, I won't hurt you.” He conceded painfully, the name he called you made your cheeks blush. With that he turned away from you and stomped out of the stables. 

You felt yourself release a breathe, fuck, you thought to yourself. 

Few questions remained in your mind, ‘Why was he so gentle?’  and ‘Why did he make you feel this way?’

NOTE: Hi, this is my first time writing any fanfiction- believe me it will get better. We will be fuckin I promise we will be laying it down girls!! This one is mainly just world building. Let me know if there's anything you’d like to see going forward! 

Xoxo 

Bambi <3

[rax-writes]

↬ in the middle of the night

Sandor Clegane x Reader

Warnings: None

Something awoke you from a deep slumber. Perhaps it was the Mother herself, you thought, because when you opened your eyes, they slowly focused on your husband, who was standing in the middle of the room, his silhouette illuminated by a couple of candles and the sliver of morning sunlight peeking over the horizon.

Sandor’s back was to you as he stared at the cradle at the foot of your shared bed, fully clothed in his leathers and his sword strapped to his waist. When he heard you stir, he spoke, but did not turn to face you.

“I should go with them. Go kill my brother,” he said with a humorless laugh. “Gods know I’m the only one who could end that evil bastard.”

You said nothing, so after a few moments, he continued – and you could swear you heard him sniffle faintly before speaking.

“But I just keep staring at this little fucker here, and… I can’t. I can’t bring myself to walk out that door – knowing I’d never see him, or you, again. Knowing I’d be condemning him to grow up without a father. Knowing that me walking out on him makes me no better than my father – who abandoned me to protect Gregor.”

A little noise from the dark-haired babe in the cradle prompted another, louder sniffle from Sandor this time. There was another pause, followed by an agitated, “Damn it all.”

The Hound then began hurriedly prying off his sword, outerwear, and boots, letting it all fall carelessly to the floor before climbing into bed with you. When he rested his head on your chest and wrapped his big arms around your torso, you noticed his face was wet, and he sniffled quietly a few more times. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, the feeling of the scarred flesh so familiar to you now.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what?” Sandor grumbled.

“For staying with us.”

He let out a heavy sigh, and although he did not respond, he gave you a squeeze in response. Sandor’s breathing slowed as you gently scratched your nails up and down his back, and when you heard a snore, you knew he was asleep. Soon after one last kiss to his forehead, you joined him in sleep.

[fandom-puff]

hello, congrats on 10k! i just read your answer about sander’s first kiss and now my heart hurts :( could we get a baby blurb of sandor and a reader who really, really wants to kiss him for the first time!!

Sandor deserves so many kisses ready mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah

You frowned up at Sandor despite the gentle kiss he pressed to the top of your head. “What was that for?” You demanded.

“What?” Sandor grunted, straightening to his full height and staring down at you.

“You pulled away…” you mumbled, suddenly embarrassed at causing a fuss. But Sandor had always been your protector, and now there was something more there… or was there?

But Sandor was not one to reject your advances, your hugs, your gentle touches.

Only your kiss.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I didn’t mean to offend you… didn’t want to… I thought…”

“You wanted to kiss me?” Sandor asked, his voice a mixture of astonishment and incredulity, a frown etched on his scarred face. When you nodded he cocked his brow. “And why the fuck would you want to do that?” He said, his thumb subconsciously rubbing at the scarred half of his lips.

You covered his hand with yours, moving it slowly. When you cupped his face-the burnt side- he almost jolted back like a jumpy horse, but soon melded to your touch. Slowly, he lowered down to your level, and when your lips brushed against his, he did not recoil.

Instead he pulled you closer.

[ottosuricatoblog]

"Protected."

Link to my masterlist

Author: soooo this is my first request! Thank you sm for asking! I hope this is alright! As you can see, reader is also a Stark but this is not part of my series "Fucked". I hope you enjoy it!!💖

Request: Prompt 13 and 23 would he so cute together! Maybe like an arranged marriage🤭 I would love to see what you could come up with 💕

13. “what are you doing in my room?” “oh, you mean, our room?”

23. “and who are you to tell me who i can and can't be with?” “i'm your future husband, and probably, father of your future children.”

When your father told you and your little sisters you were moving to Kings Landing with him, you were less than thrilled. Arya could take it. She's a witty girl. Sansa, though, was an innocent bird, and she had been promised to the prince, the little fucker. You knew you needed to be there for her until she could be there for herself.

The days in Kings Landing were exhausting. You were always looking over Sansa, which meant spending time with the hateful prince as well. The only positive thing about it was getting to know the prince's guard, Sandor. He was quite dry with you at first, but you didn't mind, continuing to be the chatty girl you've always been. He pretended not to listen to you, but he always asked something if you didn't talk, which didn't fail to make you smile. You developed an interesting relationship. He took care of Sansa when you couldn't, and you soon realized he cared more for both of you than he would admit.

After your father's execution, Arya was nowhere to be seen. The now King took pleasure in torturing everyone, but specifically your sister. The second time he decided to take her to admire your father's head on a spike, you couldn't take it anymore.

"Do you really enjoy this?" You hiss, holding your sister as she cries. "You're a monster."

"How dare you disrespect your King? You fucking whore!" He shouts. "DOG!" He motions for Sandor. "Take her to the Great Hall. I'll decide what I do with her on my way there."

Sandor looks at you, anger in his eyes.

"C'mon." He grunts, pushing you slightly.

Halfway through, he stops abruptly.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" He barks. "I can't protect you from the King if you're fucking insulting him in his presence."

"I know!" You groan, still pissed. "I know. Couldn't help it. He's cruel, Sandor. She's just a kid."

"Yes, he's fucking cruel. He's also the fucking King!" The look in Sandor's eyes is a mix of anger and pain.

"When he kills me," You start, and he clenches his jaw. "Take care of Sansa." Your eyes fill with tears.

"He won't kill you." Sandor says and starts walking again.

You arrive at the Great Hall, and ten minutes later, so does the King.

"My King." You try as he's sitting on his throne.

"Shup up!" He says. "You don't get to talk."

You stay still, remaining silent.

"I wanted to execute you, put your head next to your traitorous father's. My mother has advised against it." You sigh, thanking the Gods for Cersei in that very moment. Sandor does the same at his spot.

"Nevertheless, you did insult me, so this cannot remain unpunished." The King continues. "If I recall, you called me 'monster'. You're going to know a real monster." He shows an evil smile. "DOG!" He shouts.

Sandor looks at him confused. "Your Grace?"

You look at Sandor out of the corner of your eye.

"Here!" He says, motioning for you. "Come here."

He does as he is told, standing next to you.

"Lady Y/N, here's your monster." Joffrey says, delighted. "You're to marry the Hound."

You walk back to your chambers, very confused. You thought you were dying today. Instead, you're getting married. You're marrying not other than Sandor Clegane. It could be worse, but you're certainly shocked.

You get to your chambers, going directly to the table and pouring a cup of wine.

The door suddenly opens, and you see Sandor stepping inside and closing it.

"What are you doing in my room?" You ask, still a bit shocked.

"Oh, you mean our room?" He says, irony evident in his voice. "What the fuck was that?"

"The hell I know." Yoy say, sipping your wine.

"It's a bit early to drink, don't you think?" He seems amused.

"Fuck off." You mumble, which makes him smirk.

"Look, I know this is not what you dreamed of when you were a child," He starts. "A beautiful lady marrying an old ugly dog."

"You're not." You interrupts him, but he stops you again. Does he think you're beautiful?

"I don’t need you to lie to me, girl. I know what I look like."

"Will you shut up?" You say, walking towards him. "I was a bit shocked because I thought I was going to die, and the marriage news got me by surprise."

He stands there, looking at you.

"That said, if I have to marry someone in this shithole, it would be you." You continue, to which he frowns. "You're the only person here who was been kind to me, at least in your own way. You've protected me and my sisters. You're a survivor, just like us." Hiz gaze softens at that. "And, even if you may not believe it, you're unconventionally attractive." You smirk.

He shows the shadow of a smile. "It's not like you have a choice." He says softly. "I will protect you. I will take care of you. I promise."

You take his massive hand in yours. "I know you will." He pulls you into his chest, his arms around you.

You stay like that for a few seconds, until he hears you mumble against his chest. "If you fail to protect me, I can always marry Ser Meryn Trant." You tease, knowing how much he hates him.

He grunts. "You're not even talking to that fucker again."

You laugh against him. "And who are you to tell me who I can and can't be with?" You say, smirking.

He grunts again, which makes you laugh. He moves you to the wall so you're pressed against it, your faces dangerously close.

"I'm your future husband," He groans against your mouth. "And probably, father of your future children.”

You feel butterflies in your stomach, fighting the urge to kiss him and deciding to tease him a bit longer.

"That so?" You say, smirking.

You hear him say "Mine." before he presses his mouth against yours.

PD: I'm starting a tag list, if you wanna be in it, let me know🫶🏻

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sandor Clegane x reader

Chapter 4

1 - 2 -3 -4

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter, cussing, 18+ language and themes, insults, fighting, gossiping, alcohol consumption.

Standing next to the hound you watch as Marcella cries as she's rowed out to seat the larger journey ship. Tommen cries as his sister leaves his sight past the rocks. Joffrey rolls his eyes at all the attention she's getting.

Your ladies stand a distance away from the hound and yourself not wanting to be near him. He looks down to you briefly before Joffrey gets bored and walks up the stairs calling him along with him. 

“Come, dog!” he spits out hound follows him with an eye roll. 

“My lady you've been invited to a tea party in the garden with a few of the fellow court ladies' ' your lady in waiting says about to lead you out. 

“Can it wait.” you ask, looking at a cersi whose tears fall silently. She doesn't answer when she sees Sansa follow after her ladies. Your eyes avert to the water again, the light splashes of the water against the rocks before you watch cersei exit the ceremony following shortly after her. 

—-----

Your ladies continue to follow you as you walk through the garden. You huff and stop turning around to them. 

“Will you please possibly go do something else besides follow me like abandoned dogs on the street! I don't need to be followed everywhere I go” you snap at them. They curtsy and scurry off. You sigh, shaking your head. You turn back again seeing the other ladies and Sansa sitting under the gazebo giggling and drinking tea. 

“y/n how lovely for you to join us. We've saved you a seat as well as a cross stitch fold.” lady tyrell says as a guard pulls out the spare chair for you and you take a seat in between lady nighall, and lady cricket. You nod at her smile and a servant pours a cup of tea for you. You take the cross stitch in hand and work on it to occupy the time before the ladies barrel you with questions.

“You wed the hound, sandor clegane yesterday, how exciting.” lady ebsings speak. She's a skinny woman with dark black hair that she keeps in a high ponytail. Her dresses are always too elaborate to function yet she finds a way somehow. She married a man who's rich because he's the top ship seller. 

“Yes I did.” you reply. 

“And what I mean can't be much of a fun experience between a king's guard and a legitimate princess.” lady cricket, a larger woman with brown hair she keeps half up and half down always with a decorative hair pin holding it back. She wears green dresses even though it clashes with her skin tone. 

“It's…new. Being married isn't something I would have thought about for a while but the king thought we’d be a good match so we were wed.” you answer. Lady Tyrell gives you a small smile and nod knowing it was fully forced although liking the way you answered the question. 

“Oh come now spare us the sugar and get to the gritty, the consummation…he’s big?” Lady Nighall retorts, a woman of particular size but on the older side around her mid 40s who doesn't get much action as her husband is flaccid all the time so she indulges herself in self pleasure and pleasure houses as she is the country side's top broker for silver coin. You don't answer her question however. 

“you , did, consummate correct.” She digs for answers.

Once again the uneasy feeling erupts from your stomach as all anyone ever wants to talk about is if you and sandor have bedded. Opening your mouth to tell the truth you're sick of people asking so you lie. 

“Yes…he's very adequate.” you say into your teacup trying to fake a description of the act of sex. You sip on your tea before placing the cup back onto the tray. They all accept Sansa and Lady Tyrell, giggle and quickly speak about their husbands in bed for a short period of time. 

Your eyes attached downwards at the table of various sweets and tea. Lady ebsing speaks once again. 

“A-and how…was he.” she smiles at you. 

“Adequate.” you answer once again. 

“Oh come now you're a deflowered princess with a large husband. I was so sure he might split you in two or least break your neck while holding onto you.” she says as they continue to go back to gossip. 

“The hound is a big ugly brute. I'm surprised. After all, if he were to get married he doesn't deserve a small thing like yourself. No wonder all the maidens fear him. His best quality I guess would be being able to kill a man.” lady nighall says. I look up seeing him standing behind her. 

“Sandor.” you say. 

“I know his name, my dear. I just chose not to use a name. Did you know his mother wouldn't even look at him? Mhm heard that from the grape vein.” she says, sipping her tea. 

“My apologies for disturbing your chatter.” Sandor says through gritted teeth as he had to listen to everything that bitch said about him. His deep gruff voice hitting the ears like a clash of steel. 

“OH!” Lady nighall squeals, dropping her tea cup, spilling the tea on her dress. 

“Damn! Sneaking up on a woman is never a good quality” she exclaims 

“Apologize” he says knowing he's not really sorry. 

“Are you alright sandor?” you ask him. He nods before turning to Sansa who is still scared to look at him. 

“The king requests your presence my lady” he says as she nods and stands. 

“Thank you for having me, it was lovely.” she says and stands before walking off a guard that was standing post walks behind her. 

“Lady nighall maybe instead of indulging yourself in the insulting of other maybe you can focus more on the coin you spend daily to indulge yourself in lord baelish's pleasure house, or more rather hoe he indulges himself in you.'' Sandor retorts. Lady nighalls mouth opens in a gasp. 

“And close that yapper its using up more words than the kingdom” he says which makes her shut her mouth. And the other ladies snorted a giggle at his comment. Nighall looks at you square anger on her face as the hound begins to walk away. 

“I apologize for him.” you say getting up, gathering your skirt and running after your husband.

“Sandor!” You yell gathering your dress chasing after him. 

“Sandor, I'm talking to you!” You yell out to him.

He grumbles, continuing walking away. You stop, stamping your foot against the ground and shout at him.

“SANDOR CLEGANE! YOU STOP THIS INSTANT” You shout. He stops and turns to you before walking back to you. 

“Go back to picking flowers and sewing with the other ladies. I bet there will be more gossip about fox and hound eh!” He barks at you.

“You made me look rude, you should go and apologize to her.” you say 

He scoffs 

“Apologize? APOLOGIZE? My whole damn life I've been apologizing to highborns like yourself not as if any of you are worth it so speaking my mind once in a while..yeah I'll do that especially to over entitled cunts who drown themselves at pleasure houses.” he barks out. 

“Why are you always so hateful!” You snap back at him. 

“You’ll be glad of the hateful things I say someday! When I’m the only thing in your way of a good life and a bad one.” he says.

“I’ve got 3 bad things in my life and if you think you're one of them you’re wrong! I didn’t choose to marry you, but Fuck I’ll make the most of it!” You yell at him. Looking him dead in the eyes. Never in his life has he had someone yell at him and look at him square. His look softens ever so slightly. 

“Go finish your tea party. Eat your cakes and don't spill on your shiny gown and dont fucking call me that.” He spits out before turning away from you walking off. 

“GAH! I hate you!” You huff and turn walking away. Back to the other women. 

You ignore the hound for the rest of the day purposefully feeling your distance when Joffrey and Jaime knight the new king's guard, when you see him following the other guard to look the opposite direction pretending not to notice him. You don't know how much good he will care about it, you're damn sure getting a reaction out of it. 

Night falls and for the second time sandor does not join the room, the mester came to watch the consummation but you had him sent away wanting no one in the room and nothing. Sitting in the bath the water filled in oils and scents making the room smell nice as well. You sigh dipping into the hot water dunking your head under the water. The quiet of nothing for a few seconds before you come back to the surface. 

Moving your wet hair out of your face. You sit to the side and rest your head on your arm and you and your other out of the bathtub letting the water dripping off your finger tips onto the stone flooring. 

The memories of a happier time flood your mouth, your brother and you walking and laughing in the gardens. Him teaching you to ride a horse. Your family in your home's castle. All things you'll never get back. Confined to hatred and stone walls of kings landing. 

—------

The next day you continue to ignore the hound. Although has busy supervising the training of the new guards you pass by the courtyard you can feel his eyes on you. 

“Marriage troubles already?” meryyn says to him as sandor huffs at you. 

“Shut the fuck up trant.” he grumbles. 

“What's wrong clegane aren't performing well.” merryn laughs sandor walks towards merryn and grabs his collar. 

“You dont fucking shut up ill turn your insides to out side do you understand!” he tells me. Before dropping him into the mud. The other men stop to watch merryn trant get told by the larger man. Merryn gets up and draws his sword to sandor. 

“Oh what? You're going to pull out your little sword on me?” Sandor is annoyed with his temper tantrum. 

“Go on then swing it. Show everyone what a big strong man you are!” hound yells at trant. Who then swings his sword missing sandor everyone laughs as merryn only prompting him to swing again missing sandor for a second time.

“Fuck sake.” Sandor rolls his eyes at him, grabbing his sword out of Trant's hands, throwing it to the side and landing a punch on his face. Everyone oohs at the site of merryn getting his ass kicked. He gets up and charges at Sandor with a yell barreling into him pushing him back, tackling him. 

“You fuckign fat ugly cunt!” Sandor yells at him and pushes him over, holding his face into the mud. Jamie walks over with his arms crossed as he chuckles at Merryns struggle. 

“Don't pick a fight you can't win.” Jamie says as Sandor gets up, spitting out the mud that got into his mouth and wiping it off his face. 

“Dumb cunt.” Sandor says before spitting out more mud. 

—-----

You stand in the throne room staring at the iron throne alone, your handmaidens out of your sight finally. Nothing but peace and quiet as you stare at the throne. 

“Beautiful isn't it.” you hear a voice turning to see lord baelish. 

“My lord.” you say nodding your head. 

“Princess.” he answers, taking his place right next to you. 

“It was forged after all the battles against the Targaryens were done. People say that the throne room used to be covered in swords from all the battles, they would melt the swords right down onto the stairs” he says holding his hand out. 

“Where are they now? The other swords?” you ask in wonder.

“Removed when the chair had a new sitter. Children running around. They say servers would trip and impale themselves so often they had to train staff to a speciality. Out of all the brutality the targaryens ensued…they cared for the weary.” he says you continue to look at the throne. 

“You are lady clegane now, yes?” he says

“You were at the wedding banquet, surely you must know.” you say reluctantly. 

“You don't sound pleased.” he says

“I…it's just for the past few days that's all anyone speaks of my being lady clegane the princess away from home…i just…” you trail off. 

“Just what my lady?” he asks. 

You're about to open your mouth to speak again but the door opens and you both turn around seeing sandor half covered in mud. 

“Speak of the demon himself, what brings you? Here to collect for my lady wife?” Baelish says. 

“Fuck off you grey haired squirrel” sandor grunts as he walks twords your way. 

“Why are you muddy? Are you alright?” You ask. 

“Becuase merryn fuckign trant dosnt know when you keep his greasy fucking tits out of the way. Picked a fight while over seeing guarding fucking cock sucker. He says passing you both.

“Don't keep us waiting to tell if you win?” Baelish asks. 

“Fuck…off.” he huffs walking down through the hall to the council room. Also reminding lord baelish why he was walking through the throne room. 

“I beg pardon my lady, I wish you a good night.” he says bowing before following after sandor.

Chapter 5 here

[promptthebear]

Kissmas Day 9

Prompt: Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x Reader

CW: Female reader, lots and lots of swearing (It's Sandor c'mon now), reader is pregnant, some mentions of canon typical violence. If i forget anything please let me know!

A/N: Hello! This is a little different from the last few fics I wrote. I was going for like something cozy? So the pacing is a little slower and it's sort of a "not much happens but there's vibes" kind of fic. Hopefully you all enjoy it. I just really wanted to give my boy a story where he's safe, well fed, well rested, and doesn't have shit trying to kill him for like five minutes.

It was still dark when Sandor awoke, and colder than a wight’s arse. He could see the earliest light of dawn, though, through a nearby window. Pale yellow rays were starting to kiss the tops of the large, gloomy pines that encircled your cottage, and he knew it would be several hours yet before the sun would provide any proper warmth.

Grumbling and cursing under his breath, Sandor pushed back the furred hide that served as a blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He hissed when his feet touched the floor, the chill so fierce it bit at his soles, even through the two layers of woolen socks he wore. Everyone, from great Kings to common fools, knew that Winters in the North were bitterly cold. But it was one thing to hear the tavern stories and another thing all together when you were trying to live through it.

He wondered, as he tugged on his boots, why he didn’t make for the Free Cities and Dorne like the few remaining knights did when the whole world finally fell apart in flame and ruin. Yes, the stories of the fine wines and glimmering cities where even beggars could be Kings might have been exaggerated, but it couldn’t be any worse than here. At the very least, it might be nice to live somewhere your piss didn’t freeze midstream and your cock didn’t stick to your hand each time you used the privy.

Sandor turned the idea over in his mind, finding that its appeal grew with each passing moment. However, any thoughts of leaving vanished the instant he glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of your face peeking out from under the edge of the blankets. Your expression was peaceful, almost serene.

He leaned over you, his hair falling around his cheeks like a curtain, and placed a quick kiss against your temple. You stirred slightly in response, your eyelashes fluttering as a soft moan escaped your lips.

“Whassamatter?”

Sandor chuckled and reached out to deliver a gentle pat to your side before answering.

“Nothing. Gonna go cut some firewood. I’ll be back before you’re up.”

You mumbled something in reply, too faint for him to make out, before sleep’s embrace claimed you once more. He chuckled again and fondly shook his head.

At one point, nobody wanted to spend a night in his bed, not even when he'd gone to a brothel. Those girls had been too frightened of his face to give him more than a few hours at most, leaving him to wake to a cold bed and empty purse the next morning.

You, on the other hand, were comforted enough by his presence to stay through the night. You even claimed you slept more soundly when he was with you. It had taken a while before Sandor believed you, but after over a year of waking with you warm and content beside him, he was starting to see that you’d been telling the truth.

The bedroom door squeaked as it opened, which made the large, shaggy dog the two of you kept leap to its feet and growl deep in its throat. Sandor shushed the animal, which immediately bounded over from its spot by the fireplace, tongue out and tail wagging at the sight of its master.

“Stupid mutt.” Sandor said, as he began to rumple and massage the dog’s ears. “Good thing you’re loyal, or else what use would you be?”

The dog, which you’d so cleverly called Nameless because Sandor had refused to give it one, eagerly leaned into his touch and gazed up at him in squinty eyed delight. You’d found the poor beast roughly around the same time Sandor had been able to walk again, where he’d been left to die in some abandoned crofter’s hut.

At first, Sandor had wanted nothing to do with the animal. As far as he was concerned, you didn’t need another mouth to feed, what with him still half crippled and you were only able to set the most basic of rabbit snares. There had barely been enough food for the two of you, let alone a walking gut disguised as a dog.

He’s a big, black dog you’d insisted on just like your crest. If that’s not a sign from the gods, I don’t know what is.

Bugger the gods had been Sandor’s reply, but in the end, he’d yielded, if only to have some peace from your griping. Since then, Nameless had followed Sandor around like a second shadow. He’d cursed the beast and the bitch that whelped him each time he got underfoot, but eventually this gave way to begrudging acceptance and finally a quiet sort of affection.

Whoever left Nameless behind had, whether they knew it or not, forfeited a skilled hunting dog. Despite his sweet nature with people, he could catch rabbits and squirrels as skillfully as any wolf, which kept you and Sandor well stocked with meat despite the North’s unforgiving climate.

Once again, Sandor found himself questioning why he’d chosen to live in the frozen arse end of the world as he tried to open the front door. A thick layer of ice had settled over the tiny cottage you called home, a parting gift from last night’s storm.

Despite ample shoving and force, the door was refusing to cooperate. With each attempt, the aged wood groaned and creaked as though in protest, but wouldn’t budge. Though he couldn’t see it, Sandor had a feeling the damn thing had frozen shut in its frame, which was a much more common occurrence than he would’ve liked it to be. With a muttered oath, he threw his shoulder against the wood, swearing louder at the shock of pain that came after.

A thin sweat had broken out on Sandor’s brow when he finally gave himself a moment to breathe, half slumped against the bastard door and wishing agonies upon whichever fool god made ice to begin with. He stole a glance over his shoulder, hoping the racket hadn’t woken you, and was greeted with the sight of Nameless. The dog was sitting a few feet behind him and watching the entire process as though it was a Mummer’s show Sandor was putting on especially for him.

“Are you just going to look? Or are you going to be helpful for once in your sorry life?”

By way of response, Nameless rose to his feet, stood for a moment, squinted at Sandor, and then let out a quick, loud sneeze that sent forth a spray of drool and dust motes into the chilled air. Satisfied, the dog sat down again with a bump, and stared at his master. He cocked his head to one side, and spread his mouth wide in a lolling, doggy grin, as if two of them were sharing some sort of secret joke.

Sandor couldn’t help but grin back, albeit a little lopsidedly, before returning to the problem of the door. Once upon a time, he could’ve split the bloody thing in two with the heel of his boot and a well-aimed kick, but he had been a different man then. The Hound, with all his strength and rage, had died with Gregor the day they both went over the falls. Now, all that remained was Sandor, who had to huff and puff and struggle with frozen doors just like anyone else.

When the door finally gave way, it did so with a mighty crack, which shattered the morning air in a flurry of loose snow that tumbled off the roof and bits of ice that shimmered like diamond shards as they fell.

Sandor stumbled outside, shoulder first since he was mid shove when the door decided to open. Instantly, he was blinded by the sheer, sterile whiteness of fresh snow and sunbeams that cut like yellow knives after the dimness of the cottage. For a moment, he had little choice but to wait and lean against the door frame while his vision cleared.

Despite the early hour, the woods were already awake and teeming with life. Around him, Sandor could hear all manner of birdsong, as well as the chattering of squirrels and the far off call of a solitary deer.

From behind the cottage came the sounds of the sheep, small, squat, shaggy creatures with more wool than brains between their ears. They bleated mournfully from inside their little shed, hoping it would get them fed all the sooner, but their cries stirred no pity in Sandor’s heart. He could hardly stand the sight of the fool things, with their empty eyes and the way they ran in panicked, useless circles every time they were frightened.

When you’d first asked Sandor why he hated the sheep so much, he told you it was because he had no patience for anything, man or beast, that was too stupid to know how stupid it actually was. You’d laughed at that, a bright, musical sound that made warmth bloom in Sandor’s chest, but you hadn’t left the matter alone like he’d hoped.

As far as you were concerned, there was no point in wasting time hating something so pathetic and harmless and so you persisted. If Sandor was stubborn, you were twice as much, pestering him with that unfaltering cheerfulness each time you went you to feed the damn things. Eventually, he relented, the name and reason tumbling from his lips like rain after a drought.

Mycha.

From the ashes of Sandor’s rage, shame had blossomed, and with it a thin, choking vine that clenched a little tighter around his heart each time he’d thought of the boy. He’d lived what felt like a thousand different lifetimes since that fateful day by the river, and no matter how much he’d drunk, fought or fucked, he couldn’t seem to shake that one particular ghost. It was as though a small part of Mycha had always been there, slowly poisoning what little shreds of goodness Sandor had managed to grasp hold of, and for a while, he supposed that was what he deserved. Until you came along.

You, who had dragged Sandor out from the water when he was little more than a half drowned corpse. You, who had set every broken bone, stitched every wound and fed him spoonfuls of broth even when he’d cursed you after each one. With your constant, stubborn, infuriating cheerfulness, you had talked Sandor into talking, smiled him into smiling, and somehow loved him into loving you back. You had become the sun that rose and set on each day of Sandor’s life. You were what got him up in the mornings and kept him working until dusk. The thought of losing you, or worse, having you cast him aside, scared him more than dragons, others, and his cunt brother ever had.

That was why, in the end, Sandor had chosen to tell you the truth. At least then you’d hear it from him, instead of whatever exaggerated horseshit the village gossips would invent. Ugly as it was, Sandor knew honesty would be his friend in this matter, and he’d had more than his fill of liars after spending so much time in service to the Lannisters.

And so you came to know the whole sordid tale, one dreary morning in the sheep shed. He spared no detail, no matter how gruesome it was or how poorly it reflected on his character. If you were going to keep loving him, it was best you knew the sort of man you’d chosen, lest the truth curdle what little affection he’d earned.

At first, Sandor wasn’t sure how you were going to take things. He half expected you to try to brain him with the bucket of sheep’s feed, then drive him off in a hail of shrieking and chunks of dung. Tears were also a likely possibility, though you didn’t really seem the type. But learning that the man who you’d let into your home and bed had the blood of an innocent child on his hands could make anyone behave strangely.

When he’d finally got up the courage to stop staring at his boots and look into your face, you, as always, surprised him. You were smiling at him, that same warm, gentle smile that Sandor remembered from the moment he’d woken up in your arms.

I know is what you’d said. I’ve always known, and I love you anyway.

You’d reached for him after, setting aside your bucket so you could bring your hand up and caress his scarred cheek. Sandor had leaned into your touch, like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart into a million pieces. Of course you’d known, who in all the Seven Kingdoms hadn’t heard the stories about King Joffery’s rabid dog and the things he’d done? He should’ve given you more credit.

From there, it had been easy enough to tell you why he hated those sheep. Their cries, the sheer terror in their eyes each time he approached? They reminded him too much of that boy, and regardless of how you felt about it, he was not entirely certain he’d ever be able to forget. It was one thing to have your forgiveness and another thing entirely to be able to forgive himself.

Give it time is what you’d told him And let me worry about the sheep. You’ve got enough to do around here, anyway.

The sound of Nameless’ barking is what suddenly tugged Sandor from his memories and back into the here and now. Somehow, the dog had managed to squeeze past him without Sandor noticing, and he was now diving face first through the fresh snow, on the hunt for grouse tracks and anything else that would provide a decent chase.

Sandor watched for a moment, unable to hide the smile playing about his lips. The sight of the big dog, now sporting a healthy dusting of snow across his shoulders and muzzle, was enough to brighten anyone’s mood. He supposed, after almost starving to death on his own, the idiot creature was simply happy to be alive long enough to see another day.

The two of them would go and check Sandor’s traps later. With any luck, they’d snag a rabbit or two that you could roast for supper and have plenty of bones left for Nameless to enjoy. But, in the meantime, you wouldn’t be cooking anything if there wasn’t any wood for the fire.

It hadn’t warmed up any by the time Sandor walked to the woodshed. The snows frozen crust crunched under his feet as he walked, while his breath floated away in thick, white clouds that dampened his beard. His axe, stuck blade down in the stump a few feet away from the woodshed, was a welcome sight.

It was by no means half the weapon his greatsword had been, but Sandor found comfort in the way its worn, wooden handle fit snugly into his grasp and in its blade that thirsted for pine sap instead of blood.

Before long, the sound of logs splitting filled the air, mingling with the soft creak of trees in the wind and an occasional bark from Nameless. Sandor quickly found his rhythm, letting the weight of the axe guide his arm on the downstroke and pushing aside each long with his other hand to be stacked in the shed later.

He went on like that for a while, cut, push, another log, and do it again. The repetition of the work was soothing, almost meditative. It brought a sense of peace to Sandor the way only busy hands could.

Cut, push, new log, do it again.

It was like the axe was an extension of his arm, with the beat of his heart matching each thud of the blade and his breath moving in time as the axe swung through the air. There was most likely going to be a fresh tree fall after last night’s winds, no doubt with plenty of new wood for Sandor to haul home. It probably wouldn’t hurt to bring a length of rope and the sledge when he went hunting with Nameless later. If they didn’t catch anything, at least they wouldn’t be coming home empty-handed.

The young pine he was currently working on was halfway gone by the time you’d made an appearance. Sandor hadn’t heard you at first, too absorbed in what he was doing. It was only after you’d said his name for the third time that he’d finally stopped and turned to look at you over his shoulder, squinting at you as though he wasn’t quite sure who you were or where he was.

“What are you doing out here?”

His tone, like everything about him, was gruff. You smiled at him all the same, knowing that for Sandor, gruffness and worry were often interchangeable.

“Came to check on you. You’ve been out here for hours.”

Sandor glanced upwards and was surprised to find the sun sitting squarely above his head. A sheen of sweat had also broken out over his arms and forehead, and he could feel where it was pooling in the hollows of his back. With a sigh, he set aside his axe and removed his heavy woolen cloak, before turning back towards you.

“Have you been asleep this whole time?”

The slight tilt of his chin in your direction indicated your odd choice of garments. Born to a wilding father and shepherd’s daughter, you always swore the North in your blood kept you from ever truly feeling cold. Still, a sleeping shift, boots, and knit shawl tossed hastily about your shoulders was a questionable choice in midwinter, even for a Northern girl.

You shook your head and gestured back towards the cottage where steam had fogged up the windows.

“I started the laundry, wanted to make use of the sunlight while we still have it. I figured it didn’t make much sense to change until my other clothes were dry, and then I could wash these next.”

Sandor listened to your explanation, his face unchanging save for an arched brow. When you finished, he raised his arm and pointed back at the cottage with a thick finger.

“You should be inside, you fool, woman. You’ll freeze your tits off out here.”

You laughed before wrapping your shawl a little tighter around your shoulders and closing the space between you and Sandor with a few steps.

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. I’m a Northerner. I don’t get cold. We’re not as pampered as you Southern city types.”

Sandor grumbled softly and shook his head, something about “tongue lashing harpy bitch.” There was no venom behind his words, however, only affectionate resignation. Instinctively, he brought his hand to rest on the curve of your stomach, a protective gesture towards the child you’d been carrying for the last five months. You reached up for Sandor’s face, cupping the scarred side as you usually did against the palm of your hand.

Sandor’s eyes fluttered shut in response to the touch, and for a moment, years seemed to fall away from his expression. He turned his head slightly to the side and pressed a kiss against the skin of your wrist. You loved seeing him like this, vulnerable and content. It was like a glimpse into the past, when he was young and full of hope. However, his eyes opened all too quickly, and he was back to being the Sandor you knew. Older, grumpy, and entirely done with your nonsense.

“Inside. Or I’ll sling you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and bring you there myself”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he’d do no such thing, not while you were pregnant, anyway.

“Fine. But I want a kiss first.”

There was more grumbling, but Sandor did as you asked, catching your mouth against his while his hands snaked down to encircle your hips. You leaned into the kiss, pressing your body as close to his as you could get while still keeping your feet on the ground. His beard was coarse against your cheeks, and he smelled faintly of the woods and sweat. The heat of him seemed to envelope you, like a familiar blanket.

You stood like that for a while, the two of you bathed in morning sunshine and kissing as though you’d never get a chance to do it again. When Sandor tried to pull away, you chased him, closing the space between your mouths by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him downwards. This kiss was a little messier and rougher than the first, most likely due to Sandor’s surprise, but you didn’t mind. It was only when you nibbled at his bottom lip that he broke the kiss off in earnest, catching your two hands in one of his and trapping them against his chest.

“None of that. I told you, go inside.”

You stared up at Sandor and pulled your mouth into an exaggerated pout.

“One more? Please? And then I’ll go, I promise.”

Sandor swore softly under his breath and used his free hand to adjust the front of his trousers before leaning down to claim your mouth again. For a moment, it seemed as though you were going to get your way. Sandor had brought his other hand up to twine in your hair, which only served to deepen the kiss. You welcomed it eagerly, opening your lips and running your tongue against the seam of his mouth. He let out a groan in response, the hand that still held yours squeezing tight. You squirmed against him eagerly, trying to wrap one of your legs around his and haul yourself upwards, your hips seeking the friction they so desperately craved.

This, however, didn’t have the desired effect. Sandor began to laugh, and then placed his hands on your shoulders, gently pushing you back so you could no longer reclaim his mouth.

“I’m not a tree, you little minx, so stop trying to climb me. You said one more, you’ve had one more, and now you’re going to go inside or else.”

One look at Sandor’s face, and you knew there was no use in pushing your luck. With a long, suffering sigh, you stepped away, already mourning the absence of his mouth and hands on your body.

“Fine. But I better see you again before it gets dark. I’ll need to wash those clothes you’re wearing, and I’m not warming up your dinner twice.”

Sandor grunted, the noise vaguely affirmative enough that you took it as agreement. You turned to head back towards the cottage, only to stop mid step when you felt the familiar sting of an open hand strike your ass. You spun back around, your shawl spinning about your shoulders, and stared at Sandor, who grinned wolfishly back.

“That’s not fair!” you sputtered, your already pink cheeks flushing deeper.

“Nothing ever is,” came the reply.

You shook your head, turning once again to leave. Sandor let you do so without further torment, watching the way the sunlight made your hair glisten and the subtle swing of your hips as you walked. Nothing was ever fair, but sometimes things got close, even for an old dog like himself.

[thebookbutterfly]

Hey there! Could you possibly write a Sandor Clegane x gender neutral reader where Sandor has a soft spot for reader and reader feels the same? He tries to hide it but one day reader get’s hurt and he patches them up and maybe confessions come out?

🦋 Little Bird— Sandor Clegane x gn!Reader

Summary: You get injured in an ambush. Sandor carries you to safety and takes care of you.

Tags: #so much hurt/comfort, #a teensy bit of angst, #fluffy ending, #potentially OOC Sandor Clegane but personally I think he is pretty baby girl, #request

Warnings: Gender Neutral, no use of Y/N, descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of death, cannon compliant threats of violence, no beta and no ‘ragrets' [1,371 words]

AN: This is a request by @agender-wolfie. I really hope that this is what you were looking for! It came out a bit longer than I intended, but I am such a sucker for hurt/comfort tropes I really shouldn’t be surprised lmao. I wrote this all in one sitting and I haven’t done any editing so please excuse any errors. Happy reading! 🦋 Love BB

If you like this work my requests are currently open! So please give me your ideas ;)

You hissed a curse, gravelly and threadbare, as Sandor sidestepped another fallen tree.

A jumble of vulgar expressions that barely registered to you as they left your mouth. Almost all of them taught to you by the giant man holding you to his chest. The hound cradled you surprisingly gently, but his tension was evident. It was written all over him.

His scarred face, which you so rarely got the opportunity to study, was pulled into a broken grimace. The rest of him taut like a wire ready to snap beneath his armour. If you weren’t bleeding all over him, you might have reached up to prod the furrow of his brow. A silly attempt to smooth away Sandor’s permanent scowl.

The thought shattered as another wave pain tore through your ribs. Every bump in the path sowing fresh agony in the ruined skin and muscle.

Sandor ran a calloused thumb over the side of your knee in apology. Uttering clumsy noises of comfort as he picked up the pace.

“We’re almost there. Hold on just a bit longer, little bird.”

His gruff voice was cut with a noticeable amount of panic. Your brow scrunched at the unusual sound. You had gotten used to many things about Sandor as you travelled North with him. His rough sense of humour, bitter attitude, scarred face and huge stature were familiar to you by now. Underneath those things, his kindness and his softheartedness had become apparent to you too.

All the vulnerable pieces of himself that he smothered and choked beneath layers of vulgar humour and recklessness, had been presented to you in glimpses as you got to know him. But panic? Panic was new to you.

The farmhouse that Sandor had marked out in the distance finally drew into view. Up close it was a measly grey thing. The stone masonry looked haphazard at best but its chimney puffed with life. Behind it a barn lay with its doors open and rattling in the freezing wind.

You expected Sandor to head straight for the shelter of the barn but instead he strode to the front door. The family of four, seated around the dining room table inside, scrambled back as he slammed open the door with his usual subtlety. Which was to say— none at all.

You groaned as the sudden movement jostled your wound. Normally you would have chastised him for being so rude but your head was swimming. Too weak to lift your hand, you focused your energy on your eyes. Willing them to stay open, if not for your sake then for the sake of your worried companion.

An old man stepped forward to speak but Sandor cut him off, “One of you better be a healer, because if they die I will mount all of your heads outside on sticks.”

It was an ugly threat and they paled. The youngest boy whimpered looking suddenly ill. A younger woman with dark hair and a generous smattering of freckles stepped forward. She gestured a slightly shaky hand towards the table before him, before turning to her family.

“Clear the table, quickly. We can lay them down here,” her attention shifted back to the massive man standing in the doorway, “I’m not a healer by profession but I’ll do everything I can.”

Sandor seemed pleased enough by this answer. The rest of the family had been wise enough not to put up a fight and so Sandor stepped forward. He eased his grip and lay you down on the hastily cleared surface.

He moved to step away and let this stranger do her work but you whimpered. Fingertips clutching at air until he shifted back into reach.

A leather belt was stuffed between your teeth as your tunic was torn up the side. Unfamiliar hands grasped at your arms and legs. Holding you down with a bruising grip. All the while, Sandor brushed his bloodied fingers over your forehead and through your hair. The warmth of his skin a small consolation for the pain you were about to endure.

The woman lifted a needle and thread. With a glance at Sandor and his affirming nod she began to count down and you closed your eyes, unable to look.

Three.

Two.

One.

Fire. Your body was on fire. You arched off the table. Trying to escape the agony, the needle slowly piecing your flesh back together. The table shook as you thrashed but the hands holding you down didn’t falter. Sandor’s gravely words of comfort were the last things ringing in your ears as the world went black.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first thing that you noticed when you woke up was the lack of pain. Your side still ached, the wound tender, but it was a dull throbbing now. No longer, the screaming torture it was as Sandor carried you away from where you were ambushed.

The second was the warmth. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this warm since you and Sandor had journeyed across the border into the North. Sandor.

You opened your eyes slowly. The lighting was dim but from what you could tell you were inside the barn. The door was closed now though and soft orange candlelight illuminated the space.

You lay on your good side underneath a thick layer of blankets, and next to you lay the man your eyes sought for. His arm tucked you to him, large calloused hand resting somewhere on your lower back.

His heart thudded rhythmically beneath where your head lay on his chest. His even breathing and faint snores filled the quiet. Despite your inner protests it was the most comfortable you had been in years.

You gazed up at him, not wanting to wake him just yet. Sandor didn’t sleep nearly enough and you were content to watch the way the candlelight danced across his skin. It caught on his scarred cheek. Shadows flickering on the panes of his face.

Unable to resist you lifted a hand to his cheek. Your touch was featherlight but his eyes snapped open. Sandor’s gaze flicked to you immediately. Scanning you for distress and finding none, his body relaxed.

“Seven Hells, I thought you were going to die. Never do that again,” he said gruffly. His cheeks were flushed but he made no move to shift away from you.

Your voice was cracked from screaming but you still managed to mumble, “M’Sorry.”

Sandor sighed, “It wasn’t your fault, little bird.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a water-skein. Unscrewing the top he held it out towards you.

“Here, drink. Then you can go back to sleep,” he said.

“Thank you.”

The moisture eased the pain in your throat and soon you were snuggled back up under Sandor’s arm. The wind howled through the rafters and you both sat in silence for a little while.

Your thoughts broke the quiet, “Thank you for carrying me here. Thank you for staying.”

Sandor’s eyes met yours, they were unguarded and soft in a way that seemed reserved for you. Reserved for these conversations in the dark.

His voice was low as he replied, “I would have carried you to the ends of the earth, little bird.”

You studied him, the scars that mottled his skin, the cut on his brow and the curl of his mouth. Something deep within you settled, like a cat stretching out on a rug.

“You’re a good man, Sandor Clegane,” you said.

The conviction in your voice hit him harder than any blow on the battlefield ever had. The tidal wave of emotions that followed threatened to take him under but he swallowed them down.

You pretended not to notice his watery eyes and he lifted his spare hand to stroke your head. “Go to sleep, I’ll keep you safe.”

You nodded sleepily, too tired to fight it off any longer. A few seconds pass before you feel it. The soft press of his lips on your forehead. They linger there for a while before he pulls back, the warmth that they leave behind searing like a brand on your skin. You smile as you drift off, lulled to sleep by his warm embrace and steady breathing.

“Goodnight, little bird.”

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿  

・Yes he’s grumpy, yes he only likes you. He’s literally an asshole to everyone except you.

・Many swears but you’re used to it / also swear as well

・His love language is definitely acts of service, and will make sure that nothing needs fixing

・Nothing disgusts him...nothing. So you should never feel self-conscious around him

・Protects you with his life; you’re never scared when he’s around. He got you a really big dog so when he goes away you’ll always be protected.

・Also teaches you how to defend yourself, and will test you when you least expect it

・He LOVES it when you rub his back/give him a massage. He tries not to but the groans he lets out make you laugh every time.

・He likes it when you lay ontop of him, resting your head against his chest.

・If you like reading, he’ll take you to buy/steal (lol lets be real, if the vendor/place is rude then yeah he steals them for you) them.

・Believe it or not, he does take you on adventures. Taking you to the river, or seaside. You collect shells and put them around your home that he built with his own hands.

・With some prodding, he tells you stories. But some he’s ashamed of. There are times when his guilt feels overwhelming and he wishes that he’d just die. But you’re there to comfort him, to show him that he’s changed.

・You understand that people aren’t perfect, that everyone makes mistakes. Some worse than others, but he’s a better person now. And sometimes he needs reminding of that.

・Easily jealous; does not like anyone looking at you and WILL cause a scene.

・Has put you over his shoulder, on more than one occasion. But with the defence, he’s taught you - you can escape his grip. Other times you like it.

・He’s actually very witty and you have great banter. His humour matches yours, but I do think sometimes he goes too far. (And you tell him why he shouldn’t say it.)

・You also get jealous when someone is looking at Sandor with lust in their eyes. Then you usually pull him in for a passionate kiss or yell, “Hey! What are you looking at?”

・You put your cold feet on his to be annoying

・He’ll sit with you under the sun, basking in the heat.

 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖🔞 no one under 18 past this point 

・Size kink - this man towers over pretty much goddamn everyone. So with you, he’s like a giant. This turns you on to no end, and when Sandor finds out ... get ready to be thrown around, picked up, pushed up against a wall etc...

・Breeding kink,, his favourite place is to cum inside you. The dirty talk is usually about how he’s filling you up with his pups.

・He’s huge, I don’t care if it’s cliche - but this man is hung so much that it’s nerve-wracking. He warned you that you might not be able to handle it.

・He wasn’t always so comfortable with sex between the two of you. He thinks of himself as beast-like; lower than; unworthy. He thinks his scar makes him hideous, but you could not care less.

・Man-handles you; grabbing, pulling, and ripping your top open to expose your breasts. He loves biting, sucking, and leaving marks all over your tits.

・Loves bending you over a table and fucking you - no matter who is around. If you’re teasing him too much, he’ll let out a roar and quickly stand from his seat. Then he’ll yell at everyone to fuck off and push your skirts up to your waist.    

“If you tease me like that again, girl, I won’t tell anyone to leave. I’ll fuck you in front of the whole crowd. I’ll show them who you belong to.”

・Eats pussy like it’s his last meal. Rubs his nose into your cunt, pushing his thick fingers inside of you, licking your juices from his fingers.

[phntmeii]

♡ Dating Sandor Clegane Headcanons:

❝ I could keep you safe. They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them.❝

[ SFW + No Gendered Terms ]

> This is pure Grumpy x Sunshine & Sunshine x Sunshine Protector dynamic with this man.

> He absolutely keeps his gruff attitude even with you no matter how long you two have been together. He has a reputation to uphold you know!!

> His main Love Languages to give are: Acts of Service and Gift Giving. These show his love in a way that doesn’t feel too embarrassing for him.

> Like genuinely, you would come home and find that the chores that needed to be done are already completed mysteriously and he absolutely did them without saying anything.

> He’ll come home with a gift each time. Likely small things he’ll toss your way and claim he didn’t pick it even though he precisely planned what to give you and debated for a solid ten minutes as to whether you’d like it or not.

> His favorite Love Languages to receive are: Words of Affirmation and Physical Touch. Hearing how well he’s doing, what you like that he does or how you love him makes him incredibly happy!

> He’ll likely brush you off because he’s embarrassed but inside, he’ll be all giddy, knowing he’s doing well by you!

> He rarely will say “I love you” before you do. He normally says it in response to whenever you say it since it’s less embarrassing in his head to respond rather than to initiate.

> He loves when you show your love physically! Please hold his hand and interlock your fingers with his and he’ll melt inside completely. If you are smaller than him, the feeling of your small hands in his makes him overjoyed.

> He especially enjoys tender affections while getting ready for bed or while cuddling. Your kisses, hugs and general warmth absolutely melts him entirely that he’ll completely forget about being the Hound and is just yours.

> If you’re out in public together, absolutely scary dog privileges. You sincerely do not have to worry when you have a 6’6 Hound following you everywhere.

> He tries to stay stoic and unaffected by you but it is hard to resist. Some people passing could swear that the only time they’d ever see the Hound crack a small smile would be when he’s beside you.

> If you ever point out that he smiled or laughed at something you did or said, he’d clear his throat and try to claim he didn’t. If you keep persisting (and likely giving him some smooches too), he’ll give in and admit to it.

> He’s incredibly perceptive so he’ll know if you’re upset without you even saying anything! He’ll simply bluntly ask “What’s the matter with you?” or which “cunt” he has to have a “chat” with.

> If it’s something small, he’ll give you small bits of affection like patting your head and caressing your cheek and telling you not to worry about “such silly little things”.

> If it’s something more serious or caused by someone else, INSTANT PROTECTION MODE. This man is INSANELY overprotective and if someone caused you to be upset, they better count their days.

> He enjoys watching you from afar as you are busy or distracted by your hobby or chores. Something about seeing you completely in the zone, unaware of him that allows him to simply admire you is amazing to him.

> If you’re ever interested in something he knows well, fighting, horseriding, etc. and you’re inexperienced, he’ll secretly be so happy about this!!

> He’ll likely encourage you to learn how to defend yourself in some capacity just because he is incredibly paranoid about your safety.

> When teaching you how to hold a sword or stances, he’ll stand beside you and adjust your posture with his hands. He’ll probably laugh a couple times if you get knocked down but will do so while helping you up and ensuring you that you’re doing fine.

> He’ll rarely, if ever, use pet names like “darling” or “love” but rather a specific, personal nickname to you. If you are a highborn, it’ll likely be related to your House in some way. (EX: Stark=Pup, Little wolf, etc.) If the House Sigil is a fearsome animal like Stark Wolves or Lannister Lions, he will always refer to you as the smaller version of that animal, (Pup, Cub, etc.), simply because he cannot see you as a threat in his eyes.

> Because he can put off his emotions and tends to be aggressive, fights can happen from time to time. He tries his best to keep calm but again—This is the Hound. He’s likely to raise his voice and yell.

> Regardless of if you are sensitive or not to such a thing, he feels AWFUL. This man would blame himself endlessly for treating you horribly like that.

> He is incapable of apologizing because he isn’t good at words. He’d close himself off for some time and revert to trying to do something to gain your favor again even if you say it’s unnecessary.

> Once he’s sure you’re alright, he holds onto you for a bit, just to make sure that everything truly is alright.

> You are likely to be the only person who could boss him around and he’d oblige happily. He’d complain under his breath while immediately heading off to do whatever you asked of him.

> In terms of marriage, he’s indifferent. If you wished to get married, he’d take some time to consider it before inevitably giving in to you as it’s impossible for him not to.

> With kids, he has a massive hesitance at first. Considering his own family, he has a massive fear of failing them by being too harsh or failing to protect them as his father failed to protect him against Gregor. Give him enough time to heal and encourage him that you trust him to be the father to your children and he’ll give it a chance. He’d call your children with him his “little pups” and if you had daughters, he would 10000% be the best girl dad you’ve ever seen.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[enveine]

when doves cry - s. clegane (teaser)

“Sandor. Please, listen to me.”

You reach out to cradle his face in your hands but he’s quicker than you- he pulls away, leaving your outreached hands vacant in the air.

“No. No, I won’t listen to you.” His hand rests on the handle of your chamber doors, threatening to open and leave you at any moment. “You know what I’ve told you since the very beginning.” The flickering candlelight casts shadows across his scarred face, accentuating the turmoil within him. Suddenly the atmosphere was thick, the skin exposed by your thin nightgown grew colder.

"(Y/N)," he begins again, his voice gravelly and laden with regret. "We can't go on like this."

You look up from your empty palms now resting on your lap; your eyes meeting his with a mixture of confusion and heartbreak. "We’ve come this far, Sandor, why give up now?"

He takes a deep breath, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You know we can't be together. It's not right."

Your brows furrow, and you stand abandoning your now cold bed. "Not right? Sandor, we've faced so much together. I thought we had something special."

Sandor turns away again, unable to bear the pain in your eyes. "Aye, we do. But it's not enough.” You wonder what’s going through his mind to make him think such things. “I'm a damned man, cursed and broken. You’re the purest woman I’ve ever met.” You let out a scoff at his admittance.

“I can't give you the life you deserve." He says in defeat.

You approach him, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but he pulls away. "You don't get to decide what's best for me, Sandor. I love you, scars and all. I've seen the good in you, the kindness you try to hide.” Tears that had threatened to spill finally break and slide down your cheeks. “We can make this work, please.”

He shakes his head, his hair falling into his face. "No, (Y/N), I've seen too much darkness, and it's always lurking around me. I can't let it consume you, too. You deserve happiness- I can't provide it."

Tears well in your eyes as you plead, "I don't care about the darkness, Sandor. I care about you."

His jaw tightens, and he took a step back. "That's not enough. You deserve a man who can give you more than just survival. I'm leaving. It's the only way."

You stand there, feeling more nude than you were mere moments ago, watching as his grip on the handle grew tighter. The weight of his decision hung heavy in the air. Before he left, he turned to look at you one last time, the pain etched on his scarred face mirroring the ache in your heart.

"Goodbye, my Lady," he whispers, and with that, he walks away, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room, the echoes of his departure lingering like a ghost.

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 4 ✿:+ Candle Flames

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, -, 5

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: SMUT, MINORS DNI, afab reader, thigh fucking, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, alcohol consumption, mention of death, mention of arranged marriage, LOTS OF VIOLENCE, blood, implied threat of non-con, 

Word Count: 4738

After you’d spoken to Loras, you’d felt even more alone than before. The talk offered no comfort other than the fact he didn’t want you dead. Sansa was fine company but she was something you felt the strong urge to protect. You put yourself in harm's way constantly just to prevent her from facing any pain.

Specifically one incident when you and her were walking with the Royal Party after watching the Princess sail away to Dorne to be wed off. It was hard to watch the crying girl sail away, especially when you’d been in her very place. 

It was easy to keep your eyes averted to such a sight when The Hound was there to accompany Joffrey. You kept your head low but your eyes stayed on him. You’d still had so many questions about the night you both shared, but now was not the time to ask. 

Later making your way back through the capital city you were sickened by the sights you saw. The Lannisters and Baretheons were supposed to be the wealthiest and most powerful houses. And yet the people of their cities sit in filth and starve. Starving over a war they did not want nor started. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to be even the least bit angry when the crowd began to shout vile things. However you found yourself slightly confused once you heard the words ‘bastard’, ‘incest monster’, and ‘brother-fucker’ being sworn towards the royal party.

However your confusion only occupied your mind for a brief moment before someone within the crowd hurled cow manure at the King's face. You felt a brief sense of enjoyment when you saw it hit his face, but it was soon replaced by fear when the King ordered for the execution of the entire crowd,

“Find the man who did that and bring him to me! Kill them, Kill them all!” The King shouted.

Foolish it was, he’d only a few gold cloaks, some kingsguard, and even less knights. Outnumbered by the hundreds of rioting starving people.

Sandor grabbed hold of Joffrey protecting him.

“What are you doing? I want these people executed!” Joffrey whined loudly

“And they want the same for you!” He shouted back

The city watch was quickly overpowered. And the High Septon that you and the royal party was traveling with was pulled into the crowd. You were horrified to witness him being pulled limb from limb, never seen such a thing in your life.

“Move, Move!” Tyrion shouted at you

As the Kingsgaurd were able to eventually carve somewhat of a path towards the entrance of the Red Keep, Joffrey, Cersei, and Tyrion were all rushed inside quickly. 

Before you could make your way inside you noticed your cousin Sansa being derailed and separated from the rest. 

You grabbed ahold of her quickly and pushed her into a Kingsguard who brought her inside. However once she was in, without seeing you they closed the doors. 

Alone.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆

Inside the keep 

“You blind bloody fool!” Tyrion scolded Joffrey’s moronic behavior by hitting and cursing at him. “We’ve had vicious kings, we’ve had idiot kings, but I don’t know if we’ve ever had an idiot king!”

“You’re talking to a King!” Joffrey shouted back like an embarrassed child.

Tyrion raised his hand and slapped him “And now I’ve struck a King, did my hand fall from my wrist?” He shouted back, he turned around and noticed you were not there, “Where is the Arryn girl?” He shouted at the men. 

“Let them have her!” Joffrey retorted 

“If she dies her relatives in the North won't forget it! She’s cared for in the vale and might I remind you she shares blood with the Starks! You need her alive!” He shouted back before frantically calling upon all the king's men to return to save you. 

“Gather your men and find her!” He shouted to Ser Meryn 

“I only take orders from my king, imp.” Meryn responded coldy. 

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ 

Meanwhile as you attempted to hide in a dark hall, winding up in some kind of stable. You thought for a moment you’d made it there unnoticed and alone. However four men soon walked in behind you as you backed yourself against a wall. Your hand found his way around the handle of a small sharp shovel of some kind. The blade of it was sharp and flat. 

You’d not said a word, you knew if you shouted for them to get back or to fuck off it would be of no use. 

“Look at this little bird's eyes, she’s furious.” One of the men with short hair was mocked. 

“I’ve no gold, no silver, no bread.” You said in a low tone, firm voice. 

“Aye, but you’ve got something.” The taller man said with a crooked grin.

As that man began to take a step towards you, you grasped the handle of the shovel firmly and stabbed it into him. Between his neck and his collarbone. 

As the other men began to shuffle towards you, you pulled the shovel back out and pointed it at them as their friend fell to the ground holding his bleeding wound. 

The man with short hair managed to grab ahold of you whilst his other friend grabbed ahold of your wrist, yanking the shovel out of your hand. The man with short hair placed his hand over your mouth, in response you bit down onto his fingers so hard you were afraid your teeth would shatter. You could taste the blood rush into your mouth. 

In response to your bite, with his other hand he hit you creating a cut over your eyebrow. It threw you off just enough to make you fall back and into the other man's arms. 

The three men began to pin you down shouting vulgar remarks, as they did you kicking at them and scratching at them. Just as the one with short hair began to undo his pants, he was stopped. 

Picked up by the back of his neck like a puppy, practically lifted off of the ground. His guts were cut out of him. As his body fell to the ground you saw him, it wasn’t Sandor, it was The Hound. This is what everyone spoke of. 

The men who held your wrists were next. He cut with precision. His swords swung and took off the man's head. The next he grabbed before he could escape. Slamming his fist into his head, and shoving his blade deep into his stomach. Once he was done he put away his sword. He turned back towards you, and it was him again, Sandor. 

He bent his knee to you and spoke softly “You’re alright now, little bird, you're alright.” He said as he picked you up in both arms and carried you back to safety. 

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧

As the two of you entered the keep Tyrion was shocked. 

Once Sandor placed you down gently, a few ladies including Sansa rushed to your side pawing at your bloody face. 

“My Lady are you hurt?” Tyrion asked as he tried to assess whether the blood on your mouth and hands were yours or not. 

“Little birds hurt, get her back to her cage. See that cut on her head.” Sandor commanded the women as he walked away, 

as he did Tyrion shouted back to him. “Well done, Clegane.”

To which Sandor responded, 

“I didn’t do it for you.” 

Tyrion, confused by his words, went back to your side and asked again before your ladies could take you away. “My lady, are you hurt? There’s blood- your hands and-“ he said reaching his to touch your chin where the blood from your mouth dropped. 

“I bit one.” You said plainly, exhaustion in your eyes, unwilling to attempt that you’d murdered a man. 

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

As you laid in your bed that night, you looked at the one candle you had burning beside your bed. Contemplating whether or not to blow it out. Watching the flame kept your mind away from the memories you’d made today. You’d never seen such horrid things before, and much less partook in them. You’d killed a man. And yet, felt no remorse, which made you feel terrible, but maybe that alone counted for something. But soon even that left as your memories shifted to the feeling of being in Sandor's arms. 

Before you could blow it out, 

you began to hear the sounds of metal clanking up the hall. Sandor thought you’d never notice, but he often walked up and down your halls more than he was meant to. Simply to make sure you were alright. 

Every time you heard the metal clanking pass you’d smile to yourself. Only this time it stopped, in front of your door. You sat up slightly on your elbows and peered towards the door. Without knocking, he came inside your chamber. 

“What’re you doing here?” You asked in a whisper. 

He didn’t respond, but made his way to that same golden pitcher in the corner of your room. 

“It’s water, remember?” You said. He huffed and put it back down without taking a swig of it. 

“What are you-” You began before he spoke in a low deep husky voice. 

“You could’ve been killed.” He said without looking at you. 

“But I didn’t.” You said in a sweet whisper.

He began to walk towards your bed. “The fucking cunts would ‘ave taken you bloody every which way, that pretty throat would’ve been slit open. You’d been left for the fucking rats.” 

You took his hand and pulled him onto the bed, his metal scrapping the delicate sheets as he sat on it. 

“You saved me, you’re the bravest man I’ve ever seen.” You said with a strange kind of adornment, one he’d never heard before. 

“Brave?” He dryly scoffed, “Dogs don't need courage to chase rats.” 

“You’re no dog.” You say with that same sweet whisper, it’s as if you’d realized you’d began to fall deeper into whatever emotional trap you two had created here. 

“You killed that man?” He asked in a low whisper. 

“I did.”

“How’d that feel.” 

“Necessary.” 

He stared at you for a moment, not in judgment or disgust but in understanding and some other emotion you couldn’t quite understand just yet. 

“You can’t do that again.” 

“Kill?” 

“No.” His eyebrows furrowed, he couldn’t give less of a shit who you killed or why, “You risked your life for that Stark girl.” 

“You saw that?” 

“She kept yapping about it.” His tone husky 

“I needed her safe first.”

“Too bad.” He said not giving you any room to argue as his thumb ran over the cut on your eyebrow, you winced slightly. “I’d kill those cock sucking rats a million times again if I could. Died too quickly. I should have cut their arms off, their hands, taken their eyes for even looking at you.” 

Your hand came to his jaw, pulling yourself to his lips but he pulled away. with a sigh he came close again. He rested his forehead on yours. 

“I don’t know how to- do this- gently.” He let out a small rumble, “fuck” he hissed “i want to do this gently. I want to be gentle with you.”

He was like a dog given a bone that he so badly wanted to preserve. 

His hand came to your lap, and fisted the fabric of your nightgown. You placed your hands on top of his, you smoothed out his hand to lay flat on your lap. 

“Like this..” you whispered as you guided his hand up, making the fabric ride up. As your thighs became more and more visible he stopped and backed away, 

“No, no this isn’t right.” He grumbled as he walked over towards a large chair in the corner of your room. His face was illuminated by that single candle light. You could see his frustration and desperation in a battle with one another. 

You stood, and walked towards him. He slumped forwards. Resting his forearms against his strong thighs. 

“I can’t be what you wan- what you need.” He corrected. His voice was low and deep. 

You pushed him back by his shoulders, making him lean against the back of the chair. His deep scowl was ever present but it didn’t stop you from running your fingers through his coarse hair. 

“I shouldn’t have come back here. Should’ve stayed the fuck away. Left you be,” 

“I don’t think either of us have much a choice.” You said as you moved yourself between his large thighs. Standing in front of him still running your hands through his hair. “Do you think of that night?” You asked in a whisper. 

“Fuck do you think-“ He barked back before you stopped him, 

“Gentle.” You corrected him 

“Aye.” He conceded painfully, his hands coming to your sides holding you by your waist. His large hands engulfed your ribs. 

“What part of it do you think of?” You whispered sweetly as you began to move on top of him. Your thighs spread across his as you straddled him. His eyes never leave yours. 

He grumbled something low, you couldn’t make it out, but it sounded like “Your eyes.” 

You didn’t want to push him, to make him repeat it. 

Your hand cupped his chin, as you slowly pressed your lips against his. You pecked at his lips for a moment. Then pulling away, looking into his eyes waiting for his response. His eyes filled with shame, he looked away. 

You pressed a kiss into the scarred tissue on his cheek, he flinched at the feelings and his eyes darted back to you, 

“My face, why did you-“ He rasped suddenly 

“Don’t you want me?” 

“Course’ I do but I-“ he cut himself off as his lips hit yours once again, he sucked on your lips as hardly audible groans escaped his throat. 

You pressed your thinly clothed cunt against his hardening bulge. However as soon as he felt it he grabbed you by your hips and lifted you up. You whined, and his forehead slumped forward and rested on your chest. “Fuck-“ he said breathlessly, “Can’t do that shit to me.” he panted. 

“Why?” you whined a little too loudly, his grip on you tightened. 

“Told you, stubborn fucking girl.” He finally caught his breathe, “Ye poke at me too much and i’ll fuck you bloody.” His eyes leaving yours in what looked like guilt.

“That’s what I want-“ 

“Don’t matter.” He snipped back quickly, his eyes snapping back to yours. “Once you're wed that imp will stick his cock in ya’ and know you’re not his.” He said, his words harsh, sharp and cold 

“I’m not.” you said, his eyes went a little wide, with what? adornment? 

You slowly lowered your hips onto his once again. Waiting for his push back but were met with none. You let out a small gasp as the bulge separated your lips through the thin fabric that covered your cunt. Another moan left your lips once you felt the hardened mound poke at your entrance. You grinded against it, your cunt began to clench around nothing. 

“At’s it” He groaned into your neck, “Grin’ yerself on my cock.” He grumbled low and deep. 

His face contorted, his muscles tensed, and his groans became more and more primal. His grip on your hips began to sting a little how tightly he held you. Your cheeks began to heat up, and that knot in your stomach tightened. 

He picked you up abruptly, kissing your neck. 

“On your back, now.” He commanded as he placed you onto the fur rug on your bed chambers floor. 

He untied his breeches that clearly had a wet spot on it, unclear if it was your doing or his. He was still fully covered in his armor, as he pulled out his cock. Harder than you’d seen it before. 

You rode up your night gown to your hips and slipped out of the thin underclothes you’d had on. 

He was on his knees before you, you on your back, legs bent and spread, ready and inviting. 

He stared at you, admiring you. 

He placed his heavy aching member between your folds. Rubbing up and down, his tip hitting your clit in the most perfect way. 

He pressed your thighs together, and he let out a long drawn out groan. 

“Fuck!” He hissed as he began to buck himself against your cunt. “So fuckin’ wet” He growled as his bucking continued in a more erratic pace. 

You arched your back and squeezed your thighs together as his fat tip kept hitting your clit

“Don’t- Don’t stop.” You whimpered looking up at his hair falling into his face, his eyes trailing all over you, from your wet thighs to your breasts that bounced with every thrust to your pouting lips all the way back to your eyes. 

“Not fuckin’ stopping.” He said through gritted teeth. “But,” He was stopped by a deep guttural moan, “Don’t look at me like that.” He said panting, “You’ll make me finish too quickly.” He said once more through gritted teeth. 

You took it as a challenge, stubborn as you were. You gave him a smile, and a giggle. 

“Fuckin' stubborn girl.” He said through gritted teeth, then picking you up and turning you around. Your back flesh with his armored chest. 

He pressed your thighs together again, and pushed his cock back in between them, but slightly missing and catching your entrance. Even though he graced it only slightly you moaned so beautifully it almost made him cum right then. That's when you realized how truly lovely it would feel to have him inside of you. 

“I want it inside” You moaned as one of your arms reached over and behind you to wrap around his broad shoulders. While your other hand held his large forearm that draped over your stomach holding you in place. 

“Can’t do that to you.” He said breathlessly, as his other hand removed the straps of your gown. As it fell to your waist, he cupped your breasts, his large hand completely engulfing it. 

You whined again. You didn’t care if you were ruined, you wanted to be. But you couldn’t force him. 

His tongue and teeth danced along your neck, you begged in your mind that he’d bite down or suck on your skin but no, never. Never to burden you with evidence that this ever happened. 

You felt that heat rise and the knot in your belly begin to snap. He could feel you clenching and it produced a vulgar moan from him, 

“That’s alright, you can cum,” He grunted, as he said that you moved your head back and faced him. “MH-” He gave you a sloppy and passionate kiss to mute your moan as you came over his cock. As your high was ridden out, he continued to thrust, he separated the kiss and looked deeply into your now exhausted and satisfied eyes, “Sandor” You whispered, sweetly, “Sandor,” 

He didn’t break your eye contact, his teeth gritted as he tried to hold back his moans as he began to spill out and over your thighs, “(Y/N)” He growled with a final deep and long thrust. 

As you laid there, on the fur rug of your room catching your breath. He laid with you. 

You peered over to him, “I meant what I said.” He peered over to you, raising one eyebrow. “I’m not his.” You said softly. 

“Aye.” He looked away, “But for your sake he’d better think you are.” He said in a low husky voice. 

You raised your hand to his scarred cheek, you began to run your fingers over it when he pulled away. 

“I don’t mind it, really,” You whispered. 

“Every one fucking minds it.” He hissed 

“I don’t.” You said back defiantly 

He huffed, and laid there in silence, he looked over at you, feelings somewhat bad he’d snapped at you. ‘Gentle’ he remembered. 

“When I was a boy, my brother caught me with one of his toys. Thought I stole it. I didn’t, just playing with it. Pressed my head to the fire. All like Baelish told you.” He let out another sigh, “But the worst part was that it was my brother who did it. And my father who protected him. Told everyone my bedding caught fire.” 

You moved closer to him and rested your head on his chest. You tried to listen to his heart beating through the armor, only making out a few muffled thumps. Your eyes heavy, closed soon enough. 

When you woke in the middle of the night you were in your alone bed, your legs were cleaned and you were dressed. 

And 

Your candle was out.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

Every Morning since the riots you were awoken by a handmaiden, sometimes two. They’d dress you in red or gold. Braiding your hair, being sure to put lots of intricate, and no doubt expensive hair pins in it. You were beginning to feel more like the ornate decor that was scattered around kings landing than you felt like an actual woman anymore. 

As you walked the halls your handmaidens were like guards, guards of a prisoner. 

You passed a mirror as you walked and caught a glimpse of yourself, hardly recognizable. “As high as honour” what a joke you thought. Look at you now, looking more and more like a Lannister with each passing day. The red and gold you were forced to wear was a stark contrast from the blues and silvers you’d grown to love. But now you’d really had no home. You didn’t align yourself with the rest of your house anymore either. Lysa and Robin felt like intruders in your home, and they treated you the same. And now, Baelish was a true intruder in it. Being allowed in by your stepmother who’d no right to allow him entrance. Entrance to your home and now your titles. Rightfully yours. 

To gain your titles the Lannister's were your only hope now, so for now you’d be Cersei’s doll and Tyrion's wife. For now, you’d play along. 

But where did that leave Sandor?

You knew that first night he was angry, not at you. He was angry you were the one thing he couldn’t protect. You were his master's thing and couldn’t stop them from toying with you. He was angry you were the only thing he’d ever wanted, and just like everything he couldn’t have. He was angry he couldn’t tell you how much he wanted you. 

And the second night, he was scared, and vulnerable. 

You’d stopped eating since the riot. Normally, that would have gone unnoticed. However your now doting husband has made sure to keep eyes on you at all times. Your handmaidens are unwilling to engage in an argument with you knowing you aren’t the person to pick a fight with, told Tyrion. 

As your ladies ceaselessly brought you trays of food whilst you attempted to lounge on your balcony while you read you simply waved your hand at each tray, now not even bothering with a “No, thank you.” As it didn’t seem to stop them. 

Tyrion stepped onto the balcony, your eyes went towards him but snapped back onto your book as soon as you knew who was joining your handmaidens in disturbing your peace. 

“Lord Tyrion.” You said in greeting, hardly exerting any energy into it. You would have felt badly about discarding your virtue once more for another man if he’d hadn’t made you feel even more like a prisoner. 

“Lady (Y/N)” He said back, sitting across from you, “What are you reading?”

“Something of little consequence,” You said, closing the book and looking over your shoulder at the women who surrounded you “May we be left alone?” You asked, the women didn’t budge but looked to Tyrion who nodded at them, once at his command they left. 

“They don’t listen to me.” You said with harsh eyes. 

“I told them not to.” He said with a huff as he repositioned himself in his seat and putting on a half hearted smile. 

“Did you tell them to dress me like this too?” You said tossing the closed book to the side table next to you. 

“I asked them to help you fit in,” He said, leaning closer to you, his eyes filled with some kind of concern. “Joffrey has a tendency to single you out I wanted to see if I could correct that... Aesthetically.. Cersei had some dresses made for you and-”

“If you wish for me to continue to view you favorably, you are failing.” You said stoically, "Was I inadequate before?"

"No- no I-" He stopped himself, “I just want to do all I can to ensure your safety.” He conceded. You did appreciate it, but your need for freedom overweighed that appreciation heavily.

You sighed and looked away, off towards the near distant ocean of blue. You fidgeted with your new golden rings on your fingers. “And, you’re not eating.” He said in a lower tone, 

“And, you’re spying on me?” You said now focusing back on him. 

“Your ladies told me-” 

“Your ladies.” You corrected. 

“I am concerned. Ever since the riots you’ve not eaten a meal.” He huffed, “You need to eat. Name any food you want and I wish to have it made.” 

“I don’t want to eat.” You responded bluntly.  

“I am your husband to be, It is my duty-”

“Your duty? Your duty to imprison me in this place, in this engagement?” Your angry scowl dropped soon as you realized how cutting your words were. To him he was keeping you from further harm, and you knew that. You sighed and looked back to the sea, “It is hard for me to eat, it is hard for me to sleep.”

“Tell me how to help and I will.” He said almost pleading as he leaned forward and held his hands out palms up. "I’d do anything for my lady wife.” The words ‘lady wife’ made you want to vomit, especially after the previous night. 

“I want to go home. I want to claim my titles.” 

“You and I both.” He said with a dry chuckle. “I have wanted to claim my own birthrights long enough to know the feeling.”

“Were they stolen from under your grieving feet by Petyr Baelish?” 

“No-”

“Mine were. And I am powerless to stop it, because I sit here in this castle in these red gowns and Lannister gold. I am presenting myself as indifferent to my own birthright being stolen from me.” You sighed, “I understand what you are trying to do. I do, I may be angry but I do understand. But you need to understand this, in doing what you feel is protecting me, whether it is or is not, you have taken whatever independence I had left.”

“I understand.” He said sitting back into his seat, “And I will do all I can to help you proclaim your titles. But, it would seem Stannis aims to attack this city.” 

“Stannis Baretheon?” You asked in some confusion, no one ever told you anything.

“It seems we are not the only ones who wish to claim titles.” He said in an attempt to jest, “So we're not the men to fight for you yet, however we aim to win this war. Once it is, I will see to it that your titles are restored.” 

You smiled, “Thank you, Tyrion.” Although not in the slightest comforted by the idea of war approaching your doorstep

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆

As you walked down the halls of the castle you were hit with a brick wall, Sandor. 

“you’re not eating.” Sandor said in a hushed but deep and husky tone

“How’d you-” You began before he interrupted you. 

“All those fucking handmaidens tell the royals.” He said in annoyance

“I eat when I'm hungry. haven’t been in a while.” 

“you don’t eat, you’ll starve.” His voice was like he was warning you.

“unlikely. That takes time. Stannis aims to attack the city. I'm sure I'll be dead then.” You responded stoically.

“You won’t die.” He said as if it were fact,

“How can you be certain?” You retorted defiantly 

“Cause I fucking said so.” He said stomping off, his cape flowing behind him.

NOTE: Hey all you cool cats and kittens I hope you like this one!!! The next two are going to be a wittle cwazy just a warning... ALSO yall I wrote the smut part during jury duty LMAO... anyways

Also the last few chapters have gotten so much love and I am so very grateful thank you!!! <3

[luxbub]

sandor clegane x stark!reader pt.1

a/n: i actually hate this but i needed an escape from my writing slump, also ignore the fact that i frogot half of my vocabulary ( not proofread )

Sandor clegane whose face was the first one you saw when the king came to winterfall, his face— half covered by a helmet of a hound, with his teeth bared and scrunched up brows—burned from the left side made a grimace come over yours and yet when your eyes met you back shot up straight and a small smile graced your features.

Sandor clegane for who you circled the whole camp for while going to King’s Landing with your father. Even catching the smallest glimpse of his big frame and scowling face gave you enough satisfaction to go on about the day with a smile.

Sandor clegane who of course noticed the stark princess suddenly appearing everywhere he went. Stupid girl and her stupid smile was oblivious of the looks the troops gave her when her skirt swayed so deliciously as she trudged around the camp or when her corset was tightened more than usual and her seemed to spill over the neckline of her dress.

Sandor clegane who never smiled before you and your backhanded comments to that cunt of a prince Joffrey appeared( it was never a big broad grin, only the right corner of his mouth lifted up just barely, but enough for you to notice).

Sandor clegane whose favourite place in whole of King’s Landing was a tavern far from the Red Keep, where he could drink his weight and more in wine.

Sandor clegane who you stumbled into one day while rushing through the halls of Red Keep. “My apologies, ser.” Not many women dared too look him in the eye; even the whores he payed, looked at their feet in his presence. Your eyes hypnotised him, the enthracing sound of your voice seemed to freeze him in his place before he answered. “I’m no ser, girl.” He grunted and stomped away, the clanking of his heavy armour being the only sound left echoing in the corridor.

Sandor clegane who had already drank two glasses when you walked through the door with a cloak and hood pulled up as if the filthy scum of flea bottom wouldn’t notice the shiny material of highborn clothes, weaving at your feet.

Sandor clegane who had noticed some of the dwellers visiting the tavern getting a little to close to you, so he stood up—the sound of his chair chirping the wooden floor, catching the attention of nearby drinkers—and marched up to your table, where you were giggling at a man whose hands were wandering too far south for sandor’s comfort. With each of his heavy steps towards you, your giggles seemed to get louder and louder and the man’s greasy hands go lower and lower.

Sandor clegane who stood there for a minute until you and that cunt noticed him. He could feel your stared burning a hole through his head, but dared not to look you in the eye and instead stared the filthy man down. In a matter of seconds he kneeled down and hauled you up on his shoulders, turning towards the exit. “What do you think you’re doing?” Your screeched with your head hanging upside down. From what Sandor remembers from your encounter your voice had not been as high as it was now, your head must have become pumped up with blood for the little time sandor has been having you hang over his shoulders. “What does it look like?” If you asked Sandor he wouldn’t be able to tell you why he did it, why his ears turned red the moment he noticed that you had found company, the moment the scum’s hands started wandering all over your body.

Sandor clegane who seemed to have painted a target on his back now with your little encounter in the tavern, from smiles he was now met with scowls and narrowed eyes. It all kept on going until your father was attacked in Flea Bottom, now it was you whose every move was watched and critiqued, it was you who had to be humiliated from the cunt Joffrey who became a King, it was you who had to see your father's head chopped off.

Sandor clegane who happened to be the only one you found comfort in, after he held you back from meeting the same fate as your father.

Sandor clegane who came to you first when he planned to run away from King’s Landing and it’s stupid King.

Sandor clegane who would not allow you to stay in the castle, so when you said that you couldn’t leave your sister alone, he proposed to take her with you. But when she declined, his knees felt ready to buckle. All this stress and all this torture, would be all for nothing if he couldn’t get you at least out of this hell. Your sister seemed to have noticed him and the absent distance between you two, and started begging you to leave, go without her, tell Robb about her, tell mother about her, but save yourself.

[vikingstoner69]

Sandor/reader: After the Battle

Fandom: Game of thones 

Parining: Sandor/reader

Summery: The battle is over and now at the party you try to see sandor but sansa beats you to him. what happens when he follows you to your room? 

Smut!!!!!

I  Your legs shook and your lungs burned from the cold. The war was over the night King was gone along with his army. Leaving behind a battlefield of fallen friends and family. 

It was now time to drink and party. While drinking you see Sandor and head over there to him but Sansa beats you to him and you feel your heart drop. You sigh and go back to drinking. You look back at the table to see Sandor looking right at you. 

Sometime later without saying a word you leave the party and head to your room. You sigh when you get in the room and close the door. You were finally alone, or so you thought. 

"You've been avoiding me little wolf" you hear his voice and you look to where he sat. 

"I have no idea what you mean, I'm just tired" you say without looking at him. You stand on the other side of the room. 

"You're a shit liar, ya know that?" He grunts as he stands up and walks till he is in front of you. Your body tenses And you feel the tears sting your eyes. 

"I'm sure Sansan will be missing you, maybe you should go back to her" you say softly but there was an edge to your voice. You were tipsy and you were hurt. 

"Look at me little wolf" he says, you shake your head slightly and bite your lip.

"Just go back to the party" you tell him, your voice soft and shaky noting how it had been moments ago. You hear him growl and then you feel his rough fingers under your chin making you look at him. You tried to blink the tears away but it was too late some had fallen. He swipes them away with his thumb and sighs. 

"I don't want her," he says, his voice rough. His brown eyes stare into yours making your heart speed up.

"Oh really? You two were looking pretty cozy to me" you snap moving your head out of his grip. Any softness you had was now gone, hurt and anger was what you felt. He growls and pins you to the wall. He shoves his knee between your legs and thrusts up so you are sitting on his knee and you cry out at the pleasure. 

"You really think I want her? You really think she could handle me? I'd break her. Besides little wolf I don't- oh for fucks sake!" He snaps and pulls your face to his and he kisses you deeply his fingers tangle in your hair and you moan kissing him back just as deeply. 

His lips travel down your neck and he bites your neck hard marking you as his. You moan your hips grinding down on his knee and you bite your lip. 

Sandor rips your shirt off. You look up at him and reach for his shirt and he helps you pull it off. You lean up and kiss him deeply, your hands tugging in his hair. He growls and lifts you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. 

Your nails dig in his shoulders as he grinds hard into you as he sucks and bites your neck. 

"Sandor please" you moan, you were soaking wet for him. He chuckles into your neck. 

"What do ya want little wolf?" He growls in your ear making you shiver and your nipples harden. His one hand moves to your breasts and he rolls the hard nub making you moan. 

"You! Please fuck me! Make me yours, so everyone will know" you moan out and he growls and your back leaves the wall and you are now laying on the bed with sandor hovering over you. You lean up and kiss him deeply. Sandors lips travel down your neck to your breasts and he sucks a nipple into his mouth making you moan. He bites your nipple as he tugs your pants off leaving you naked under him.

"You're soaking wet little wolf" he grins as he rubs your clit making your hips thrust up and you moan. He slips a finger inside your tight heat making you cry out and reach for him. 

"Sandor!" You moan and bite your lip trying to keep quiet. 

“Your so tight” he groans, as he fucks you with his fingers. You close your eyes as your head falls back on your pillow. Your eyes fly open as you feel his hot wet mouth on your cunt making you cry out and your hands tug his hair as he eats your cunt like its the best meal he had ever had. He holds your hips still his hold tight letting you know there will be marks in the morning. 

“Cum on my tongue I want to soak my beard” he growls looking up  at you from between your legs before sucking your clit in his mouth. 

“Fuck! Sandor '' you cry out as he sucks and bites your clit you feel your climex crash into you like a wave and you scarem out his name. He grins up at you as you pant he kisses up your body till he reaches your liips and he kisses you deeply making you moan with your taste on his tounge and lips. You moan and reach down rubbing his covered cock making him groan. As you undo them and set his hard cock. You wrap your hand around his cock feeling his lenught and you lean up and push lightly on his chest for him to lay on his back. 

“What ya doin little wolf?” he says looking up at you. You bite your lip as you tug off his pants and you grab his cock. 

"I've gotten myself off thinking about sucking your cock so many times' ' you grin as you lick his balls to tip before sucking the head in your mouth and you moan around him. 

"Seven hells!" He groans his big hand on the back of your head. You look up at him and take him even deeper. You suck hard and moan. Sandor holds your head still and thrusts up in your mouth fucking your throat how he wants. You moan at the filthiness of it all.  He grunts and cums down your throat and you suck taking everything he has to give you. You pop up off his cock and lick your lips after you swallow his load. 

"You taste so good" you smirk and he takes a deep breath. And looks at you. 

"Bloody hell little wolf!" He pants and you grin and straddle his hips moaning as his cock rubs your soaked cunt.

"Fuck me sandor, please" you moan as you roll your hips. He was hard again. His hands go to your hips and he holds them tightly. He flips you onto your back and your head hits the pillow. Sandor kisses you deeply and bites your lip making you gasp. He kisses down your neck and he nips up to your ear. 

"When I make you cum on my cock I want you to scream my name" he growls in your ear making you moan. Sandor grabs his cock and rubs it through your folds making you cry out. 

"Sandor!" You cry out your hands going to his shoulders, your nails leaving little marks. Sandor grunts as he slowly slides in making your head falls back showing him your neck fully as he fills you full. Sandors head lands on your shoulder and he bites leaving a mark making your cunt tighten around him. 

"Fuck! You're bloody tight! Look at me little wolf, look at me as I fuck you" be growls and thrusts into you hard. Making you cry out your nails digging into his back making him growl. 

"Fuck! Fuck sandor, choke me" you moan he grunts as his hand gose around your throat and you moan and thrust your hips up. He growls and flips you to your hands and knees and thrusts back into you hard and deep. He slaps your ass hard and you thrust back into him taking him even deeper. 

"You're mine!" He snarls as he pulls your head back pounding into you. He smacks your ass again making you cry out. 

 "Feels so good! I'm so close!" You moan loudly. Sandor pulls out making you whine at the loss of him and he flips you on your back once again. He thrusts back in and you moan. You lean up and kiss him, flipping him on his back, your hands going to his chest. 

"You fill me up so fully, I love how your cock feels" you moan as you roll your hips, his cock fills you and you slowly ride him with a smirk on your face. 

"It's not nice to tease love" he grunts through his teeth as you roll your hips slowly. Your hands grab your breasts and moan as he slaps your ass hard. 

"Ooh but it's fun" you moan as you pick up speed and then slow down. He growls and pins you down, his hand going around your throat and he pounds into you hard and fast making you scarem out and cling to him. 

"How fun is it now" he snarls fucking you so hard the bed moves with each thrust.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum!" You cry out feeling so close to the edge. He growls and rubs your clit. 

"Cum on my cock!" He snarls as he rubs your clit hard and fast, sending you over the edge. Your cunt clamps on his cock and he cusses loudly.

"Seven hells!" You grunts as he cums hard deep inside of you. Sandor rolls onto his back panting and you look over at him. 

"Better" you pant an roll to your side laying your head on his chest and he pulls you into him. 

"What?" He grunts his heart beat finally slowing down and you look up at him then kiss his chest. 

"This was better than I imagined it" you say his fingers run down your back making you shiver. 

"You think about me often?" He smirks as he strokes your back and you bite your lip trying to hold back your moan. And in the blink of an eye sandor was back over type of you. Your legs wrapping around his waist. 

"Yes!" You cry out biting your lip as he sucks marks into your neck. 

"Don't be quiet little wolf, I want to hear you" he says, grabbing your breast with his free hand and you moan. As he slides his hard cock back into you. 

"Sandor! Fuck!" You moan as he rolls his hips deeply into you. Sandors hold on you was hard and tight. Your hands reach and touch every bit of him you could. 

"I'm no way near done with little wolf, we are just getting started" he growls in your ear making you moan. And he was not joking he didn't let you sleep till the early morning. 

[ottosuricatoblog]

"Nightmare."

Author: hola! I'm starting a new chapter of my life and it's going to keep me a bit busier, but I'll try to keep posting as much as I can. I decided to mix up this 2 requests since I thought they went well together. I really like how this turned out, and I hope you like it too!

Request: Hi! I loved your fics! I looked at the prompt list and honestly so many of them would go perfectly with Sandor. How about 7? The reader soothing Sandor after a nightmare and then continuing with smutt.. That would be quite hot.

Request: Hi! Could I request something with 14 and 19? With Sandor and y/n already married if possible, something fluffy and sweet🥰 There was also one prompt about hand kisses but I forgot which number, so if you could add something about that too that would be lovely!!

Prompts:

7. [character] wakes up breathing heavily from a nightmare, and you soothe them by bringing them to your chest, and whispering sweet things to their ear while your hand caresses their hair.

14. tracing [character]'s features while they sleep, and vice versa.

19. “gods, your lips are so sweet. Please kiss me again?”

80. [character] giving you knuckle, hand, and palm kissing.

WARNINGS: language, night terrors, smut, oral sex (him receiving)

Sandor has always had trouble sleeping, especially since the fire incident. He never slept for longer than 3 or 4 hours. He was more than used to it by now, and now you were too. You are what is called a sleepy head. You used to have trouble sleeping as well, but sleeping next to Sandor changed everything. Now, you could sleep for hours and hours as long as he's with you, holding you somehow. It's one of the many perks of having him as a husband.

Tonight, after a passionate session, you were lying on him, both of you naked. You always drifted off right after sex, and tonight was no different. He loved those moments, just holding you while you were in your most vulnerable.

You turn in your sleep, laying your head on the pillow instead. He then turns into his side, holding his head up with his left arm. He stares at your profile, wondering how he got so lucky. He raises his arm, using his index finger to trace your features. He starts at your forehead, continuing along your nose and down to your lips. Gods, those lips.

He repeats his actions a few times until you shift, turning again to bury your head in his chest. He hugs you into him, kissing your head.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He mumbles into your hair, nodding off soon after that.

You wake up to Sandor shaking and whining beside you. You turn to look at him. He's extremely sweaty, and his face cringes in pain.

"Gregor! No!" He whimpers.

You sit next to him, taking his head between your hands.

"Sandor!" You say, holding his head. "Baby, it's just a dream."

He whimpers again. Noticing what you're doing isn't enough, you move your hands to his shoulders, shaking quickly.

Sandor wakes up abruptly, his defensive instincts on. You take your hands off his shoulders, raising them before you in a redemptive way.

"It's me." You say softly. "You're okay. It was just a nightmare."

His gaze softens when he meets your eyes, his breathing getting back to normal.

"It's okay." You say, bringing his head to your chest and stroking his hair. "You're okay. I'm here."

"I'm sorry." He mumbles.

"Don't be." You whisper. "We don't need to talk about it."

He nods, silently thanking you. He moves a bit, so his head is resting on your lap while you continue stroking his hair.

He takes your hand in his and brings it to his face, giving you knuckle, hand, and palm kisses.

After a few minutes, his breathing is completely back to normal.

"Better?" You ask in a soothing voice.

"Yes." He mumbles, kissing your hand on more time before sitting up.

He moves to sit next to you, and you caress his face, turning to kiss him softly. He hums, kissing you back.

When the kiss breaks, you hear him mumble against your lips. "Gods, your lips are so sweet." He moves his hands to your waist and shifts you so you're straddling his lap. "Please kiss me again?"

You smile, understanding what he wants. Your husband is a dominant man. It's pretty obvious to everyone. Normally, Sandor is also dominant when you two are intimate, and you do love it when he is. Some nights, though, he just needs to feel loved, for which he likes to give up control. Tonight is one of those nights.

Leaning in to kiss him passionately, you move your hands to the nape of his neck. You slightly scrape the skin there as you know he loves, and you feel his groan inside of your mouth.

You kiss all over his face, especially over his burnt-out side. When you reach his earlobe, you gently bite it, whispering. "I'm going to take care of you."

He hums, moving his hands from your hips to your backside.

"Hands off." You say, running your tongue over his bottom lip. "I'm doing all the touching tonight."

The smirk on his face tells you he's enjoying this as much as you are, and he takes his hands off your butt to position them on the bed.

You kiss him again, harder than before. You feel his half hard cock twitch between your bodies. After years together, you know exactly what gets him going.

You kiss his lips one last time before moving to his neck. You know he likes it a bit rough, so you bite all over his skin, sucking afterward.

You hear him groan. He loves to mark you, and he secretly loves to be marked as well. It tells the world he's yours.

"You're so hot." You say, kissing your way down to his groin. You hear him moan.

You avoid touching his now aching hard cock, kissing his belly instead. Your hands move his thighs, softly scratching the hair there.

"Fucking Gods Y/N." He whines. "Do something."

This is teasing you as much as him, and you know this is going to come back to you as payback sooner than later, but you enjoy the sounds he makes when you tease him too much.

"I'm doing something..." You say against his skin, smirking. "What do you want?"

He groans desperately, realizing he's going to have to say it. "Please, dear wife." He says, and you look up with a smug smile. "Take me into that pretty mouth."

Your smile grows wider victoriously. You sit comfortably between his legs, and you grab his cock and suck his head slowly. He lets out a moan he reserves for these nights, when your teasing frustrates him.

"See." You say, stroking his cock slowly. "You just had to ask."

You don't give him time to answer as you take him into your mouth again, sucking with gusto. His groans are music to your ears.

"Oh fuck, love." He moans. "Suck that cock."

You bob your head repeatedly, taking as much as you can of his cock. You see his hand moving to your head, but he remembers your command and places it in back on the bed, clenching his fist around the bed sheets. You reward him by moving your hand to stroke the part you're not sucking.

You keep sucking vigorously, enjoying his pleasure as if it was your own.

"You're so fucking good at this." He groans. "So fucking good."

His praising makes you smile, and you take a second to take a breath and look up at him. His lustful eyes meet yours.

"Do you want me to stay here?" You say, pecking his head, to which he trembles slightly. "Or do you want me to ride you?"

If you were wet from the teasing, sucking his cock has made you literally dripping.

He licks his lips, exhaling heavily. "Ride me." His voice is darker than usual. "But first I need a kiss."

You smile but move up, straddling his waist again and leaning in to meet his lips. You hum against his mouth as he deliciously sucks your tongue.

"You ready?" He asks, and it almost offends you that he doesn't know how wet sucking him off makes you.

You take his hand, leading it to your pussy.

He moans at the touch. "Fuck, baby. You're soaking."

You kiss him again. "You can touch me now." You say, biting his bottom lip.

He hums, moving his hands to their spot on your hips as you move up, taking his cock in your hand and positioning it at your entrance.

You both let out a moan as you sink into him.

"You feel so good." You moan.

"Ride that cock, darling." He grunts.

You start to move, your hips doing circular motions as they move up and down, which you know he loves. His moans are guttural, needy. Yours are starting to turn into whimpers.

He sits up, kissing you desperately. The new position changes the angle slightly, hitting all the right spots inside you. He moves his thumb to stroke your clit.

"Sandor." You moan against his mouth. "Just like that."

"Gods." He groans. "I'm..."

You already know he's close by the way he's clenching his jaw, so you speed up, humping him.

"Come for me." You moan. "Come in me."

He lets out a loud groan as he starts to come, which triggers your own orgasm. You keep moving to prolong your pleasure. Once you're done, you lay on his chest, exhausted.

His breathing is still getting back to normal when you feel him caressing your back.

"I love you." He says, kissing your hair.

You're almost asleep when he hears you mumble an "I love you too."

Taglist: @broadsdrinkwhisky @malkaviangirl if you want to be in, let me know🩷

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sandor Clegane x reader

Chapter 2

1- 2- 3

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for the chapter- forced marragie, alcohol consumption, joffrey, mention of dead loved one, mention of consumation, 18+ languge and themes.

The large doors are kicked open by sandor as he walks to your bed placing you down on it before standing and bowing and walking out to leave you to the attention of your hand maidens. Once you hear the door close you curl up and the screams you were holding in let out in sobs and screams of pure pain. 

Your wails are heard as the sounds bounces off the stone walls of your room. “M-my lady.” one maid says holding out a hand to you touching your shoulder but you finch away. 

“L-Leave me!” you sob. 

“But my lady-” “LEAVE!” you yell at them. They curtsie and scurry out of the room. 

“You shouldn't talk to them like that.” you hear a familiar voice as you look over seeing sansa walking to you and sitting on the bed next to you. 

“What am I supposed to do?” you ask 

“I dont know.” she says, shaking her head. 

“Move over.” she says you sniff and listen she lays next to you facing you. Reaching out she moves your hair out of your face. 

“I overheard Joffrey, he said you're too married to the hound tomorrow. At noon. He wants it done as soon as possible.” she says a disgusted look on her face. Your eyes wander her face as she places a hand upon your cheek. 

“At least he didn't have ser merryn bruise your face. We saw what he did to you liliana.” she says you nod. 

“My brother sansa..” you say. 

“And my father out past the gates, his head on a pike, joffrey is no king. He's a demon craving power he's too weak to get. You're my best friend, you're a lady of the same standard as me. I don't know what to do but you can marry sandor.'' She says you scoff and sit up and hold the bed sheet to your body. 

“I was sent here as a peace offering, you were too.” she says. 

“But peace doesn't need to be forced.'' You say moving your hair to one side. 

“No…but it does need to be enforced.” she says. You shake your head. 

“I can't marry a hound.” you say pulling your knees to your chest. 

“Cant or wont.” she says looking up at you. You nod without giving a clear answer. 

“Y/n you're going to be killed if you don't marry him.” she says. 

“I’d die before marrying a man I do not love, marrying a man filled with such violence.” you say looking at her as she sits up to face you. In disbelief she shakes her head. 

“You want your head on a silver platter? You’ll have your head on a spike.” she asks

“Yes.” you respond. 

“Y/n. Your family will have nothing left, my sister is gone, my brothers are on the other side of the country, my father is dead…I only have you and I cannot, no, Will not lose you too, my best friend. Please…don't let me loose you, and marry him, just please do a duty as a lady as the king's subject, worthless daft cunt as he is…” she says making you giggle at how much she enjoys making fun of him behind his back. 

“...but please for me.” she says. You look at her and sigh nodding. 

“Alright.” you say she nods and hugs you you hug her back. 

“Do me one favor?” You ask. 

“Anything.” she answers. 

“Walk me down the aisle.” you say she nods a smile on her face. A smile that's full of sadness. 

“My pleasure.'' She gets up and walks to the door, sending your maids back into your room to help you dress for bed. 

—---

The morning sun hits your face as you sit outside by the window and a pillow on your lap brings your knees to your chest. 

“Her grace is the queen cersei.” one of your maids announces as the doors to your chambers open. You turn seeing cersei walking into the room you get up and curstie to her not worried about the fact you are still in your nightgown. 

“My dear…you're not dressed? You have to give a present in an hour?” she asks. 

“no..I have nothing to wear. I'm not sure my day gowns would suffice as a wedding dress.” you say. Cersei smiles her devious smile. And walks to you taking your hands before turning and noddeding the doors open once more as the seamstress walks in with a dress on the form.

“I had this made for my wedding, however I came to be with my child before I was able to wear it. So it's my gift to you to wear this time.” she says leading you to it. 

“It's beautiful.” you answer. 

“Yes and I had it tailored to your number so it will fit perfectly…” she says and trails off as you take the sleeve in hand. 

She walks over to the bed and takes a seat. You turn to look at her as she sighs looking up at you. 

“Do you know the action of a man and a woman in bed my dear? What is to be expected of you on your wedding night?” she asks me to pat the spot on the bed next to her so you'll sit. You walk over and take the place next to her. 

“My mother wanted to tell me but my aunt never let her explain.” you reply. 

“Well you must consummate the marriage with intercourse it's a scary experience. You are there to pleasure the man, do you understand? You shall abstain from any struggle and do everything he wishes you to do. Do you understand?” she says. 

“Y-yes your grace.” you say now fearful of what the hound is willing to do to you. 

“I'm so sorry my dear have I frightened you?” she asks. You open your mouth to speak but she cuts you off. 

“No matter, I'm sure Sandor clegane will make a fine husband. And you shall have many fine babes.” she says before once again standing and putting her hands together in a clap, the noise making you jump.

“Now! Try it on shall we.” she says you stand and nod. 

—----

Almost as if you’d blacked out and had not remembered the rest of the time spent getting ready for picking at your nails waiting for the door of the large keep to open. You can hear voices murmuring behind the large black wood doors. 

“y/n.” Sansa speaks, causing you to jump. 

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you.” she says taking your hand. You shake your head, eyes glued forwards on the door. Your mind races with the things cersei was babbling about earlier about the consummate marriage and who has to watch.

“Y/n?” Sansa brings you back to reality although not far from your head. 

“Did you hear me? I said you look beautiful.” she says you give her a worried smile,but she wasn't wrong. You wear a white and gold embellished dress with sleeves and a trail in the back. Your veil falling far past the dress you hair down your back pulled out of your face. 

You hear the music and the muffled voices of chatter die down as everyone has taken their seat. You hear footsteps towards you and Sansa both turn their heads seeing joffrey. He stands neck to you and smiles smugly. 

“What are you doing?” you ask

“Your fathers not here and your brother is gone and as a high born son so as next to lead and father of the realm it's my duty to give you away to your husband,” he says. 

“I apologize for your grace because I asked your lady, Sansa, to give me away.” you say. 

“Yes…but she will not.” he says, taking your arm in his as the doors open. You give Sansa a look. She shakes your head in regret. You look forward to your heart dropping seeing so many people from highborns to servants. Down the aisle you look up seeing the priest Joffrey has picked and sandor who is in all black armor with a gold and white cape seemingly made for him just for today as there's no dents or nicks and it shines with the sunlight that peers in through the stained glass window.

Walking down the aisle your legs feel jello and your heart races so fast and hard you can hear it in your ears. Moving closer and closer to your soon to be husband. Joffrey walks you up the stairs to the altar setting you in place but not before leaning into your ear to speak to you and you alone. 

“Be a good bitch for my dog will you?” He gives you a smile and walks back down the stairs to watch with everyone else. You glance at the entrance wanting nothing more than to run knowing that if you do the only option after would be death. Refraining from the thoughts the priest speaks. 

“Please cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” 

The other garment sandor holds is set out as he lifts it over you and places it around your shoulders. You look up at him for what is supposed to be a brief moment but your eyes keep their hold on his face. His usual resting bitch face is prominent but the hint of something you can quite make out.

“Your grace, your grace, my lords and ladies. We stand here in the light of God to witness the binding of these two souls. From house clegane symbol of three dogs on a golden banner, a loyal servant of the crown, And house vixen symbol of a fox on a red banner. May they be one in body, mind, heart and soul. Forever.” he says. You continue to look up at the hound only looking over when the priest takes a hold of  the bible and holds it out to you both. 

“You may place your hand on each other and join fingers” he says as you glance at Sansa who now stands next to Joffrey who gives a reassuring nod. Both you and the hound turn to face the priest as he holds his hand out. You place yours on top of his and intertwine your fingers, his hand so much bigger than yours. The priest wraps a red cloth around your hands. 

“In the sight of the king, the queen, god and man, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one. For eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.” he finishes step back a step. You turn to the hound as he does you. You look up at him once again he looks down to you trying desperately to avoid eye contact but the way you look at him doesn't allow that. You both speak in tandem. 

“Father, smith, warrior, mother maiden, crone stranger.” 

“I am his and he is mine.” “I am hers and she is mine.” 

“From this day until the end of my days.” you both end. 

“I pronounce you husband and wife of house clegane.'' The priest continues to take a slight intake of breath as the hound leans down to you close your eyes feeling the scruff of his bread cooled with the surprisingly softness of his lips against yours. You relax as you somehow melt into him only for him to pull away as everyone claps and cheers. 

—------

You sit at the head of the table, your hands in your lap picking at your nails, the stories Cersei wouldn't shut up about running through your mind about what the night is set to hold. The fear bubbling up in your throat. 

“Stop that.” Sandor speaks, making you jump. 

“You’ll ruin your nails, and you’ll bleed. I don't think you want blood all over your dress.” he says. 

“You don't seem very much concerned with yours.” you say 

“I don't need to be im not a princess.” he says scoffing at you before chugging his wine. 

“No you're not…but you just married so that makes you a prince.” you say. He sets his cup down harder than normal and reaches for the stronger alcohol. 

“Fuck me.” he cursses and pour it into his cup before taking a swing of it. This amuses you slightly and you let out a small laugh. 

“Something funny?” he gruffly asks. 

“The thought of you with a crown on your head all shiny, just like you are now but all the time.” you say. 

“Want me to be like your brother? If I was like him right now I'd be dead.” he says seriously. Your smile immediately fades. As you feel tears prick at your eyes. 

“Congratulations.” you look to your front seeing more people coming up to you and bowing you nod faking a smile. A glass clinks getting everyone's attention as the music and talking subsides. 

Cersi stands as she's going to speak. 

“I want to wish the newly weds good fortune and prosperity, for many children to come, and happiness to ensure” she says 

“HEAR HEAR!” Everyone chatters as they cheer mugs together and drink and continue eating. 

The rest of the evening is spent in quiet between you and sandor although he wanders off for a few minutes with the other kingsguard member speaking with jaime and joffrey before wandering back to you as your ladies in waiting lead you both to your new chambers.

Walking into the large room it has a huge bed made from oak wood which has been dyed black draped with red and black curtains covering in a soft comforter and pillows on each side a small table, a stone and steel plated fireplace with a fire blazing. A large sitting chair table next to it also formed from the black oak, in the corner is a golden tub and a desk with a mirror and a dressing screen. The large black dresser trunk and drawers. 

You look around entering the space as sandor follows behind you and you hear the doors shut. Your hand runs along the fabric of the bed, your mind wandering to the horrible things he’ll force upon you. 

You move your hair to one side as you take a hold of the strap along the back of your dress pulling at it loosening the fabric. Your hands are shaking slightly. 

“What are you doing?” Sanders' voice barrels at you. 

“U-undressing for you.” You say. He lets out a scoff. Pulling your hands away. 

“Don't bother.” He says gruffly as he passes you walking to the table with a jug of wine pouring some into a glass before chugging it and wiping his mouth. He looks at you now standing confused waiting for his command.

“What? Did you think I would bend you over this table and fuck the life out of you?” He says you look down embarrassed and unsure of how to answer.

“How ever you see fit to consummate… you may.” You say. He scoffs again. 

“Im not going to fuck you little fox, not now, not ever, I didn’t want to marry you, let alone marry anyone. The only thing I care about is blood and ale. If you want someone to deflower you it won't be me!” He barks. 

Before taking the jug of wine and heading for the door. 

“Wait.” You say he stops, turning to you. 

“What?” He ask 

“You’re not sleeping in here?” You ask. 

“Just because I'm your husband doesn't mean I take naps with you. I'm still the king's guard. I've got a job to do.” He replies and continues to head for the door before you stop him once again.

“Sandor.” You say he groans before turning around seeing you holding out his cape he took off to cover you yesterday. 

“I believe you might want this back.” You say. He takes a few short steps to you before taking it from your hands and slumping it over his shoulder,

“Don't call me that.” He speaks before finally, turning and walking out. Your ladies in waiting come to you after the door closes and help you undress from the uncomfortable garment and into your night wear for sleep