#sandor x reader

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Sandor's Secret

Sandor Clegane x Fem! Reader

Summary: Sandor has a secret hidden away from everyone.

A/n: I should be writing The Wolf Among Men but I can't. Once i have an idea, I need to let it out. This is one of them. I do hope you enjoy and remember please comment. I read all the comments and it makes me so happy and gives me the boost to keep writing. ENJOY! - L

WARNING: NFSW, we are fucking, whore, Sandor likes it dirty, Hidden away from everyone, mention of abuse but not from Sandor. Border Credit: @black-dread

Word Count: 3.4K

Sandor has a secret, he’s been having it for a few years now. No one knew about it and he tends to keep it that way but the ones who were too nosy...there were taken care, of course. 

No one will ever take you away from him. 

Sandor has too many enemies in King’s Landing because of his brother’s wicked ways. His brother, Gregor had enemies throughout the seven kingdoms and most of the time Sandor will be the one suffering the consequences. Enemies usually thought that they could fight or hurt Gregor’s little brother to get back at him, but at the end of every fight the enemy is lying cold on the ground with their throat split open or a sword rammed into their stomach. That's why he has hidden you. 

His shift taking care of the king’s bastard ended and he was walking to his small home. He lived a few miles away from King’s Landing. He had declined the housing that the king provided him in the castle. He didn't want it. He liked his privacy, was what he said. Making it home, he walked Stranger to the small stable near the house. Making sure the horse was fed and had fresh water, he shut the stable door before walking to the house. He stood in front of the wooden door and knocked five times and jiggled the knob. This was a sign he came up to make it known it was him outside. 

A few seconds later, the door opened and he was pleased at the sight in front of him. 

He walks in before you can jump in his arm. This was something he had gotten used to and he loves it how you greet him like this after a hard day taking care of the spoiled brat. You didn't mind the blood or the sweat on him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You kissed him on the lips. He puts you down and you immediately start to help him remove his armor. Sandor can smell the stew warming on the fire as he sits on the chair near the dining table. You knelt down in front of him and began to unlace his boots. 

“Don’t gotta-” 

“Hush.” You cut him off with a smile. You had this conversation with him many times before. He told you he didn't expect any special treatment since he bought you. You would shake your head and tell him it’s something you are willing to do just like you're willing to continue to sleep and live with him. 

You were fresh off the boat when you came to King's Landing. No family and no money, there was the only thing to do. Sell your body. Little Finger inspected your body, lifting your arms and touching your breasts. He looked pleased when he grabbed a handful of your ass and sent you to an empty room. That night Little Finger had told the girls, the King's guards would be coming after a successful hunting trip and the whorehouse started to prepare for their paying guests. 

Guards came in and you can hear their laughter and hollering as they picked their woman of the night to keep them warm. The whispers came when you saw the largest and tallest man you have ever seen walk in. You had no idea who this man was but everyone froze for a minute before turning away from him. 

“Looking for a girl.” He told Little Finger. The smaller man gave him a smile and spoke to him in a low tone. You looked down at the ground when you heard the words, fresh and unused. The tall man handed him a few coins. Little Finger called out for you and the ladies gave you a pity look as you walked towards him. 

“This is her, Sandor. Easy on the eyes. She just came in. No one has touched her.” You grew the courage to look up at the tall man called Sandor. You realized why everyone was whispering. Half of his face was disfigured, burn.

“Hello, Sandor.��� His brown eyes softened for a moment when you greeted him. 

“Go on, take good care of the prince’s guard.” You nodded and without a single thought you grabbed one of his large hands. You looked up at him when you felt him tensed up but he quickly relaxed when you began to walk with him to your room. You kept ignoring the stares from the girls and the other guards as you continued to hold his hand. You wondered why everyone was making such a big deal about it. There were men and women with facial scars, it was nothing new to you. 

You grew worried as you began to think more about it. What if he was aggressive? Mean? What if it gave him pleasure in harming the woman he slept with? 

Opening the door for him, he continued to stare at you closely. 

“Is something wrong, Ser?” You asked as he walked inside and sat on the edge of the bed after removing his sword. His eyes are still on you as you shut the door.

“I'm not a Ser. Not a knight.” He huffed out as he leaned his sword on the bed frame. “I see.” You told him before slowly walking towards him. “You are new around here? He asked. 

“I am. Is it that obvious?” You said as you kneel down to help him unlace his large boots. 

“You don't know me?” He asked as you began to remove his boot and quickly started working on the other. You shook your head at him and looked up to meet his gaze. 

“I'm sorry, I don't but from what Little Finger said you're the Prince’s guard so you must be very important. I hope I can meet your satisfaction, Sandor. I’m new at bei..” Your words came into a halt when you looked away. 

“Being a whore.” He finished your sentence. You nodded at him as you took his other boot off. 

You were about to stand up when he raised his hand. “Stay down.” You obeyed and looked ahead, you grew red when you were staring between his legs. He spread his legs and you saw the outline of his bulge. He leans forward and his hand goes under your chin, making you look up at his face. He looked so confused when he saw no fear in your eyes.

Insecurity started to brew deep in your chest and you began to thought. Were you not up to his standards? He must have many beautiful women thrown at him because of who he is and who he works for. 

“Sandor, I know I’m new but I swear I will be good. I don't wish to anger Little Finger. I fear he may kick me out.” You blurted out to him. You feel him touch your cheek and your hair. With his index finger under your chin, his thumb begins to trace your bottom lip. He pulled your bottom lip and you opened your mouth letting him put his thick thumb in your mouth. Closing your mouth, you began to suck on his thumb. 

Sandor sat up straight in his seat when you brought him a bowl of stew and a plate of fresh bread. He nodded at thanks to you and began to eat quickly. He was starving and the woman in the kitchen of the castle doesn't know how to make food taste good like you. He looks across the table to see you sitting down with your own bowl. He found himself glad, he never would have thought he would be living with a woman. He thought he would end up alone for the rest of his life. Now he has a beautiful woman living with him, cooking for him, treating him like a person and keeping him warm. 

He found himself thinking about that night, he met you. Sleeping with you was something he never experienced. Perhaps it was because you were so kind to him, you didn't flinch when you stared at his face. You were an eager thing to please and he loved it. Sandor knew his fate was sealed when you kissed him at the doorway the morning after. You didn't have too, he told you but you simply told him. You wanted to and if it was alright to kiss him again. He leaned down to meet you lips and kissed you hard that it left you breathless as he walked out of the whore house. He came back a week later, he couldn't stay away from you for too long. You and your sweet cunt occupied his mind. When he asked for you, Little Finger’s second in command gave him a small frown. 

“Half off. Some animal hit her.” Sandor gave her a face but nodded, giving her the payment. 

He walks to your room and the door is half open. He looked inside of your room, you're sitting on the edge of the bed. You felt his presence and looked at the door. Rage engulfs him completely when he sees you with a black eye and the side of your face is bruised. 

“Sandor.” The way you said his name made snap back into reality and he quickly walked away. 

Sandor finished his bowl before you, he got up to grab the pitcher of ale. He notices it’s almost empty and gets up to refill. He sees you’re about to get up from your seat to do it. 

“It’s fine.” He tells you softly, pushing you back down on your seat. “Finish eating.” He tells you and gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

He turns back to the table when he finishes and refills your cup as well before sitting back down on his seat with a sigh. Today was a hard day, he's tired on his feet. You noticed it when you finished your bowl. You tell him, you’ll heat his bath water. You're about to grab his bowl as well when he grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him gently. He knows he's strong and the last thing he ever wants is to hurt you. He can't hurt you, you're his. He'll die before hurting you. Taking the bowls from your hands, he places it back on the table. 

Sitting on his lap, you wrap an arm around his neck. You're blushing at his gaze. Sandor staring at you was something you always blushed at. He stared intensely and it made you wet. No words need to be said because both of you knew what each other wanted. Cupping his cheek, you feel his scars under your touch. You liked the touch of it since the first time you laid with him and you still loved it even after he took you away from the whorehouse. 

Sandor returned a few minutes later with a maester. He stood at the corner of the room while the maester looked at your eye and your face. You wondered how Sandor knew that Little Finger hadn't even offered to get you looked at. When the maester was gone, Sandor walked towards you. 

“Get your belongings, girl. We are leaving.” 

Sandor is the one to pull you in for a kiss. He tasted like ale and the stew, he was so warm as well. He tightens his hold around you as you open your mouth, his tongue slips inside of your mouth and you can't help but moan. His arm around you, his other hand goes between your legs. He groans as he pushes the hem of your dress up so he can touch your bare skin, your bare cunt. He groans once more in your mouth when he feels your lips, he spreads them with his fingers to touch your clit. You pull away from his lips to cry out as his fat thumb circles around it. He nips and kisses the side of your neck enjoying the whimpering coming from your mouth. 

 “I think about this cunt all the time. I smelt it all day on my mustache.” The thought of your nectar on him all day made you blush. He woke you up this morning at dawn with his head between your legs.

“Sandor.” You whispered his name. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. 

“Can I suck your cock? Please.” He nods as his eyes twinkled with excitement. You slide down from his lap and kneel between his legs. He stares down at you as your hands unlaced his trousers. Licking your lips when you pull out his cock. It feels heavy and hot in your hand. You bring your other hand to get a better hold of it. 

Sandor starts to breathe heavily as you lick his head, humming as you tasted his salty pre-cum. 

“Fuck.” He whispered under his breath when you spit on his cock, he felt a blob of spit run down his shaft. Your hands are jerking him as you start to suck him off. You moaned as his cock stretches your mouth wide as you try to take him all in. 

Sandor brings a hand behind your head, grasping your hair as you start to gag on his fat cock. 

“Shit-t. Yes, just like that.” He huffs out when feels your hand cupping his balls over the trouser. Sandor throws his head back when his cock reaches the back of your throat. 

His praise only makes you suck him harder, your jaw starts to ache but it’s worth it. Seeing this giant man turn into putty because of your mouth was everything to you. Breathing through your nose you reach all the way to the end. Sandor moans when he feels your nose touch his pubic bone.  

Sandor pulls you away and you gasp when you feel him sliding out. Tongue out, breathing harshly for air and eyes filled with tears, you look up at him. 

“Come here.” He tells you and helps you up. You lean against him as he kisses you. He kisses your cheeks frantically as you try to catch your breath. 

“Bed.” He nods at you as he stands up removing his clothes.

He feels like his nickname, a hound staring at you. His nose is tingling as he watches prey, you undress. You had looked over your shoulder and blushed when you met his face. He’s ready to pounce, ready to sink his teeth on the only good thing he has in his life. 

“Everything okay?” He watched you walk over towards him when you were done. He wanted to purr when he felt your hand rub his stomach all the way up to his chest. You were biting your lips when you touched his thick dark hairs on his body. His chest was hard and you can feel the old heal scars splatter on his chest. 

Sandor just nods. He doesn’t answer. Cat got his tongue when he feels you touch his cock with one hand. You let out a surprise yelp when he grabbed you by the chin making you look up at him as he kissed you. He kissed you so messy and passionately, he nips your lips and consume you. When your legs start to wobble from being on your tippy toes, you pull away from him. He gives a mad huff and pushes you gently on the bed. 

You push yourself to the middle of the bed, opening your arms for him as he gets between your legs. You wince from the sudden movement. Sandor is a big man, his waist is wide. When he’s on you, he completely covers you under his frame. 

“Fuck.” He moans when his lips start to attack your chest. He pinches your nipples making you cry out, he drowns you out with his kisses. 

“Tell me? How? Now?” He says as he licks the valley of your breasts down to your navel making you squeal. He pulls away for you to move. 

“Like the first time.” You mumbled turning around with your ass in the air. You earn yourself a slap on the ass, it makes you quiver. You let out a moan when he gets behind you, a heavy hand on your shoulder while the other rests on your hip. 

“You came all over my cock the first time, remember?” You nod at him, shoving your face in the pillow so he didn’t have to see your blushing face. 

“Milked me dry, girl. Took all my cum deep inside of you.” Sandor says as he brings his hand from your hip down to your ass. He squeezes it, pulling a cheek to the side to see your waiting holes. He’s not surprised when he feels your pussy dripping wet. He growls because of it and cups your mound possessively. A smirk grows on his face when he feels the soft curled hairs on your mound get wet as he spreads your slick all over your mound. 

You cry his name out as he holds you, your wet cunt is throbbing for his cock. 

“Please. Fuck me.” You beg him and his hands goes back to your hip making you arch your back. You feel the hair on his stomach touch your ass as he leans over you, you clenched the pillow under you as you feel the tip of his cock. It’s so hot and big, Sandor’s above you, giving you praises as he splits you open. He even gives your ass a rub when he slowly slides in. 

You gasped when he slid himself to the hilt. You feel him in your tummy, that fat mushroom head is knocking on the door of your cervix and his heavy balls are resting on top of your clit. Sandor holds you down and takes his time so your sweet cunt is used to his size. He feels you clenching around him, he feels you under him moving your ass. 

“Not even going to wait for me.” He tells you when he feels you throwing your ass back softly. 

“It feels so good. I’m so full.” Sandor leans over you making you cry out by how deep he’s getting. He moves the pillow under your chin and he pushes your head to the mattress to the side. 

You gripped the sheets under you as he began to move. Each thrusts you’re crying out, moaning as he fucks you from you behind. You feel your toes curl up when he begins to growl when he grabs your hips and uses you like his personal toy. Moving you up and down on his cock, his hand stays on your face, covering you completely. 

He cages your head behind you as he ruts into you. You’re crying his name and Sandor is loving it because it’s his name you’re calling out, his name coming out those lips he loves so much. He whispers your name behind your head, he kisses the back of your head when he feels your tight cunt pulsing around him. 

“Yes. Yes.” He says as he slips his hand between your legs. “You’re soaked.” 

Sandor helps you get near, he’s about to cum. All day working, stomach filled with delicious stew and cock being milked by you. A perfect ending after a long day. 

“Pleasee.” You cry and Sandor looks down at you, you’re looking over your shoulder and it’s the only time Sandor shows his soft side with you. You only know this side of him. 

“I got you, my pretty girl. Cum for me. Let go.” He tells you before kissing your lips. His fingers rubbing your clit as he fucks you harder. Your mind is fuzzy, your filled to the brim and you can hear him moaning your name on top of you. You can hear skin slapping against one another, his heavy balls slapping your clit making you clench him even harder. He holds you in place when you start to cum on him, on his cock. He feels it, he even lets out a moan of his own. You start to whine, salivating on the sheets when Sandor comes undone. He holds your body, making sure he unloads his cum deep inside of you. 

Sandor watches you as you sleep on his chest, your fingers were in the middle of running through the massive amount of hair on his chest before you knock out completely. He holds you in his arms as he’s deep in thought. He chuckles to himself thinking what would Gregor do if he ever found out how pussy whipped Sandor had become for you. 

He was, he wouldn’t deny it, just count the dead bodies he buried a few miles away. They all had failed to find out what was Sandor’s secret. 

[axelsagewrites]

Sandor Clegane*Brat

Pairing: sandor x f!princess!reader

Kinktober Day twenty-three: brat taming with Sandor Clegane – after growing sick of a princess’s bratty attitude Sandor decides to teach her how to behave

Word count: 2147

Warnings: brat taming, secret relationship, teasing, reader being a brat, jamie slut shaming, fingering, p in v sex, rough sex, spanking, degrading, swearing, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

Your footsteps were somehow both silent and quicker than his horses, something Sandor loathed as he chased about after you. being your personal guard was apparently an honour however the past two years of this honour made him consider if locking princesses in a tower was still socially acceptable.

While sure you had your moments of being tolerable, sometimes even pleasant, to the giant they called your guard dog, right now was not one of them. Usually, he appreciated your sarcastic remarks to your younger brother Joffrey, agreeing with most of your snippy quips, however today it had led to a fight between you both.

This then led to you storming around the castle, with Sandor falling behind, then to a fight with your mother which Sandor had to listen to through a door despite being absolutely starving, then when he could finally go and eat you decided to go on a walk through the forest unannounced and he had to track you down and bring you back.

“Try not to get lost again princess,” Sandor said through gritted teeth, trying not to let his stomach grumble.

You rolled your eyes as you sat on your love seat in front of the fire. “I was never lost. You just couldn’t find me,”

Sandor rolled his eyes as he went to leave however Jamie fucking Lannister decided to stop him. “The queens requested for you to stay in this room and guard the princess,”

“What about my fucking break?” Sandor spat back, not having the same gentle voice as your uncle.

“Well, it will have to wait. There are Dornish ambassadors riding into court and we cannot risk her getting…lost again,” Jamie said, and you couldn’t help stifling a laugh making Sandor want to fling you out of a window. Jamie leaned in closer, whispering to Sandor and getting his slimy breath all over him, “Prince Oberyn is coming, and we cannot risk her sullying her reputation,” he said however only Sandor was able to hear him.

“But me staying in her room all night is fine?”

Jamie looked the hound up and down before putting on his most cunty smile, “Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone will question your activities. Goodnight Clegane, best behaviour princess,” Jamie called to you before leaving, the door slamming behind him.

Sandor Groaned as he began to strip off his cloak. Like fuck was he gonna be kitted up all night in this. “What did he whisper?” you asked, reaching over to grab a grape. Sandor couldn’t tell if the way you popped it in his mouth made him more hungry, horny, or fucking angry.

“Prince Oberyn is coming to court,” Sandor said as he tossed his cloak on a chair, “So I’ve to guard you all night so you don’t go falling in his bed,”

Most women would gasp or swoon or deny the accusation, but you just barked out a laugh. It was another one of your few redeeming qualities in Sandors eyes. “How much of a whore does he think I am?” you joked, picking up your wine.  Sandor stomped over to the table, snatching the wine from your grip before plopping down in a chair. “Hey!”

“Hay is for horses,” he grumbled, gulping down the wine, “You’ve been a fucking brat all day, the least you owe me is a drink,”

“My, my, swearing in front of a lady, a princess no less,” you tsked at him as Sandor began to unbuckle his armour, “Not very honourable of you ser,”

“I’m no ser,” he said, discarding the battered metal as he reached for the next piece, “And besides I’ve done far less honourable things to you than curse in front of you,” this was of course his favourite quality in his princess. Even when you annoyed him to his core you were still the best fuck he’s ever had. “Fuck you’ve said worse things than I have,”

“Like what?”

“You know what,” he chuckled, beginning to undo his breast plate which would leave him in just a shirt and trousers. “You and that dirty mouth of yours,” he said, thinking back to all the thoughts and whimpers you’d moaned in his ear.

He did his best not to meet your eyes as they travelled down his frame, “Watcha gonna do about it?” however sent a spark down his spine. Prince Oberyn was not the one they should be worried about sullying your reputation.

Sandor dropped the metal breast plate, ignoring the clatter in made as it hit the floor as he moved to stand in front of you. his hand gripped your jaw, easily holding your whole face as he made you look him in the eye, “Don’t test me princess. You’re already on thin fucking ice,”

“Why would I want to be on ice when I could be on your…” you said, eyes trailing down his frame with a fiery spark.

He growled as his lips smashed into yours for a brief kiss that knocked the air out of your lungs. He broke the kiss, pushing your frame back into the love seat making you gasp. Within seconds his boots were off, and his arm was around your waist, hosting you over his shoulder making you squeal. Your back hit the soft bed as you desperately tried to sit up, but he was already on top of you.

“How expensive is this dress?” he asked, his fingers trailing the neckline.

“Your annual salary,” you replied and gasped when a tear ripped through the air, “Sandor!” you gasped as the cold air washed over your bare chest, your nipples perking at the feeling.

He’d ripped it just enough to be able to pull it off your body without having to hassle with any ties or laces, “Please as if you wont just pout and get a new one,” he scoffed.

“I don’t pout!” you objected, now feeling more exposed under his hungry eyes.

Sandor laughed, his eyes moving from your tits back to your face, “All you do is pout princess. All fucking day,” he said, his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb tracked over your pouted lip, “And all day I’ve been having to look at these fucking lips,” he said, his thumb prying open your mouth so he could stick his thumb inside, pressing down on your tongue, “and think about how much better they’d look around my cock,”

His words sent a shiver down your spine that didn’t go unnoticed by Sandor. “Is someone excited?” he asked, his hand gripping your thigh before slipping between them. His fingers trailed up your slit and you felt his chest rumble as he chuckled, “So wet for me already,” he said, his smile dropping for a moment, “Suck,” he commanded.

Instantly you complied, sucking on his thumb and trying not to whine as he rubbed slow circles on your clit, “Good girl,” his head dipped, moving to kiss along your collar bones as his thumb slipped from your mouth. He rubbed the spit over your bottom lip before his hand moved to tilt your jaw up, giving him space to kiss softly up your neck.

You bit your lip, slight whimper escaping as he worked on your bundle of nerves. When his fingers slipped away you whined but gasped when you felt him push two in, “Cmon don’t act like you cant take it,” he chastised, nipping at your skin enough to make you gasp but never to leave a mark, “I’ve seen you take far bigger,” he said, grinding his bulge against your leg to emphasis what was to come.

His fingers began to curl slowly inside as his thumb rested over your clit. When you whined again, this time louder and enough to make his cock twitch in his trousers, he moved his other mouth to clamp over your mouth, “Quiet,” he grumbled, curling his fingers deeper making you moan against his hand, “You know the rules princess,”

You nodded, meeting his eyes for a moment before they shut as his fingers began to brush against a familiar spot. You could feel your peak soon arriving but when you felt him pull his fingers out not even his hand could fully cover the loud whine you made. “Gods you really are a desperate thing,” he chastised, his hands moving to squeeze your hips tightly.

Before you could protest, he’d flipped you on your stomach, hand coming down on your ass leaving a stinging slap. “Hey!” you whined only to be met with another slap.

“Behave,” he chastised, keeping one hand on your ass, fondling it as the other moved to push down his breeches, “Maybe if you behave I’ll let you finish around my cock,” he said, gripping it with one hand and with the other forcing you onto your knees, ass presented perfectly for him, “Bet you’d like that wouldn’t you? me fucking you silly like some whore,” he said, running his tip up and down your wet cunt making you whine.

Instead of responding you grabbed a pillow, moving to lay your face in it when Sandor suddenly grabbed your hair, “I asked you a fucking question,” he growled, his tip pushing in slightly as your back arched.

“Yes,” you stuttered out.

“Yes what?” he asked, pulling your hair tighter, pushing slightly further in.

“Yes, I want your cock please I need it,” you whined, your hips trying to move further back onto to be stopped by Sandor, “Please I’ll be good,”

Sandor let go of your hair, your body lurching forward as you fell back into the pillow, “Wonder when I’ve heard that before,” he grunted, his hands moving to squeeze the soft flesh of your ass refusing to push his tip any further in.

“I promise,” you whined, gripping at the pillow, “I’ll behave I promise I-fuck,” you whined as you felt his cock sink further in.

Sandor hissed as he felt your cunt squeeze around him as he pushed his way in till he felt himself fully inside. He left one more slap to your ass, smirking at the way you bit the pillow instead of protesting at the stinging slap, before he started to set a steady pace.

His thrusts were slow and precise at first, making your whole-body lurch forward as he fucked you and your fingers tightened in the sheets. He could hear the stifled whines you let out and reached forward to grab your hair once more, this time gentler as he turned your head till the pillow muffled your mouth. Before you could question him, you moaned into the fabric as his pace began to quicken.

His slow thrusts had turned into heavy pounds that shook your body and made a knot grow in your stomach. His spare hand moved to squeeze your hip one more time before slipping forward to rub fast circles onto your clit. His grunts and groans were like music to your ears as your legs began to quake but falling was not an option.

Sandor cursed at the way your cunt squeezed around his cock, sucking in breath as he screwed his eyes shut. Despite how hard it was for him not to finish right there he had a job to do. He bit his lip, opening his eyes to appreciate the sight beneath him.

He could hear your muffled moans through the pillow and felt the way your body jerked and squeezed around him. “Aw is my little princess gonna cum?” he teased, his thrusts growing harder, “does she deserve to cum around my cock?” he asked but your response was muffled. Sandor pulled your hair, lifting your mouth up from the pillow, “I asked you a question,”

“Please sir,” you moaned like music to his ears, “Fuck please let me please,” you begged.

“Do it then,” he grunted, shoving your face back into the pillow, “Cum around my cock like a good whore,” his words were all it took to push you over the edge as your peak crashed around you.

However, this was not going to make him stop. Instead, his thrusts became harder and less precise as he fucked you mercilessly chasing his high while you rode yours out with eyes rolled back into your skull. It didn’t take long for him to feel the familiar twitch and suddenly pull out. With only two more jerks his seed spilled across your ass as his eyes screwed shut. “Fuck,” he gasped once he felt he could breathe again. Gently he moved his arms to lay you down on the bed.

You were too busy catching your breath to notice him searching for something till you felt him running a damp cloth over your ass to clean you up. “Still think I’m a brat?” you asked, still trying to catch your breath.

“Fuck yes. But you’re my brat,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy  @valeskafics

[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

[ladyinwriting18]

A Gift For A Hound (Sandor Clegane x Reader)

Summary: Joffrey gives his faithful Hound a gift---you.

Words: 5,277 Warnings: PIV, Oral sex, Master/Slave,

The Hound walks down the long stone corridor that leads to his room. In his right hand he carries a wineskin filled with the first thing he could get his fucking hands on. Being the personal bodyguard to a cunt like Joffrey is no easy task. The little shit is ruthlessly cruel. Which is saying something coming from him. Sandor Clegane isn’t known for being kind hearted but he’s no Joffrey. The boy is sick in the head. He does his best to push it from his mind. The day is done, meaning he can forget the shit from the day and drown himself in wine alone until the numbness of sleep takes him. This is Sandor’s nightly ritual. One that he honestly looks forward to. But when he opens the door, he isn’t greeted by the usual solitude. Instead, there’s a naked woman kneeling on the floor beside his bed.

It takes him a moment to get over the initial shock, but when he does, his voice booms throughout his chamber. “What the fuck is this? What are you doing here?”  You lift your head to look at him, keeping your hands palms up on the tops of your knees. You’re as naked as your nameday, all except your neck. Tied around it is a yellow ribbon with three black dogs down the front—the colors and sigil of his house. “Hello, My Lord Hound.” “I’m no lord. So you can keep those meaningless titles to yourself.” You nod but stay silent. Sandor growls, nearly barking at you. “Well? Are you going to tell me what the fuck you’re doing in here?” You don’t even flinch at his raised voice, just answer him softly with a voice as warm as honey. “I belong to you. I am yours to do with as you please.” His brows pull together, not understanding the words that just left your mouth. “What?” You smile and patiently repeat yourself. “I belong to you now, for as long as you want me.” Your words have his eyes roam over your body for the first time. Every curve, the smoothness of your skin, and the way the chill in the room already has your nipples hard makes his cock twitch. “I’m a gift from King Joffrey.” That catches his attention. Joffrey barely spared him a glance. Now he was giving him gifts? “You’re…my gift.” You smile warmly. “Yes. Master.” That was new. No one had ever called him that before. He isn’t sure how to feel about it, but it’s far better than being called ‘my lord’. He steps over the threshold and lets the door shut behind him before moving closer. At his approach, you once again bow your head. There’s a gentle air about you. It’s something that isn’t a typical trait to the women found on the Streets of Silk. Not that Sandor was a frequent visitor. Most women couldn’t stomach looking at his scarred face. Even when he paid them, they struggled. What was the point of wasting coin on that?

You, on the other hand, are almost intoxicatingly feminine. It makes him want to press his nose to your cunt and breathe in your scent. He looks down at you, feeling more curious and less irritated than when he first walked in. “You said you belong to me?” You nod. “So, you’ll do anything I ask you to?” You keep your eyes downcast but respond without hesitation. “Yes, Master Hound. It will bring me great pleasure to fulfill your every request.”

A tension builds through his frame. Not out of anger, but anticipation. Anticipation to feel release that he often doesn’t get unless he takes his cock in his hand. “Look at me,” he commands. You do so eagerly, looking at him without a speck of fear. He searches your eyes for the lie, determined to find it. He is the Hound afterall. Usually he could smell a liar from yards away, but with you, he only sees devotion. As if you truly wish to serve him. Most were intimidated or afraid of him, but this is something different. It’s submission. It awakens his more animalistic needs. The part that wants nothing more than to fuck and claim and breed. His unscarred eye twitches as his hand moves to your cheek—to see if you’ll flinch at his touch. But, fuck, you lean into his palm and press your lips to the pad of his gloved tumb. Never once averting your gaze. He lets out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. You’re all his.  He starts to pull his armor and clothes from his body. You sit up on your knees, helping where you can. You manage to pull the gauntlets from his hands and unbuckle his sword belt. But the rest he does. His fingers move too fast and he knows the armor like the back of his hand. You find other ways to make yourself useful, taking items from him and gently placing them down while he throws the rest on the floor. When he’s left in nothing but his pants and boots, your hand lightly runs over the bulge in the front of his pants. Involuntarily, he bucks into your touch, wanting more. However, you make no move to continue past teasing touches. He grunts impatiently, catching your attention. Your eyes meet, your head tilting to the side as you whisper the words…. “Command me, Master.” Command? Why the fuck would he need to do that? Any other whore he’d ever slept with always took matters into their own hands and rushed to get things over with. “Tell me how to please you. I just want to please my Master.” Your pleading tone shoots right to his already hardening cock. The corners of his mouth twitch into a grin while his hand moves to the back of your skull. He pulls you in, guiding you closer to his groin.

“Kiss it.” Immediately, you obey, leaving kisses along his clothed cock. Only the linen of his pants separates you, but still he can feel the warmth of your mouth. Sandor lets out a rough growl while undoing the knot at the front of his pants. “Don’t stop.” You coo as sweetly as a dove and your kisses become more passionate as moans escape your parted lips. You hold eye contact with him without fear, without disgust, without judgment. He can’t recall a time when even his fellow King’s Guard was able to look at him, let alone a woman. Everything about this is different. You are different. 

You look at him with desire. It only makes him more eager to sink his cock into you. However, once the cloth falls away to reveal his fully naked form, you sit back on your heels with your feet folded beneath you. You sit with your spine perfectly straight and your hands resting on your knees. You look more like a high born lady than a common whore. So submissive and pretty. “You’re waiting for my command, aren’t you?” His hand comes down to wrap around the length of his aching cock. Your eyes dart to the movement of his hand. You seem transfixed but still manage to respond, “My sole purpose is to give my Master pleasure. I’m your property to do with as you please.”

“My property?” he breathes and starts to slowly stroke himself. He does this more to tease you than himself. It clearly works because you only seem able to nod. A sly grin comes across his features. “You’re my property,” he repeats, louder to refocus you. “A beautiful…little thing…that belongs to me.” Sandor pants between words, stroking himself with a firmer grip.

“Yes, Master,” you moan with a lick of your lips. “I belong to you and only you.”

“Then be a good girl and come suck your Master’s cock.” You rise onto your knees so fast that you almost take him by surprise. Within moments, you’re pushing his hand away and wrapping your own around the base while your tongue traces over the veins in his shaft. “Your cock is so thick,” you moan out. Sandor isn’t sure if you meant to say that out loud but it hardly matters once you wrap your lips around the head of his cock. Your hand and mouth work in tandem—tugging firmly while lovingly sucking. That is…until you drop your hand away and swallow his cock whole. “Fucking Hells,” he swears and involuntarily bucks his hips forward. You hum, tightening your lips around his thickness as you pick up the pace and bob your head up and down. He watches you intently. Dark brown irises burn with lust as you suck him off like your life depended on it. “Filthy thing is enjoying this, isn’t she?” he pants, dick stiffening and pulsing in your mouth. 

You nod with a happy little hum, and Sandor can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corners of his scarred lips. Your mouth is warm and so fucking inviting, like his cock was always meant to be there. He wants more. His hand shoots out to grip the back of your head as thick fingers tangle in the locks of your hair. He moves you up and down at just the right pace. You obey his physical command, allowing him to fuck your mouth while you drool all over him. Sandor is by no means a small man and his cock is no different, but you handle it with skill. The sloppy, wet sounds of you sucking with such enthusiasm makes him feel drunk. The pleasure courses through him, all the way down to his toes. It’s almost too much. And your big, beautiful eyes don’t make it any easier. They’re full of affection while unshed tears prickle at the corners of your eyes from how wide your mouth is stretched open. He slams his cock into your throat, hitting as deeply as you can possibly take him. Your hands and nails dig into his thighs to hold yourself steady. “That’s it,” he grunts, “take it.” You moan and gag with your brows knit together. He would have thought you were in pain if it wasn’t for the blissed expression on your face.

Sandor takes all of you in, wanting to commit the image of you gagging on his cock to memory. So that when you were gone, he’d at least still have that. But that’s when he catches sight of you pressing your thighs together. The blood in his veins sings. You’re getting off on this.

On pleasing him. On having his cock in your mouth. On obeying. Suddenly, having you down on the ground isn’t enough. He forcefully pulls away, slipping his cock out of your mouth. You whine at the loss and lean forward to try and get him back in your mouth, but not even your alluring mouth will keep a man like The Hound from getting what he wants. Bending at the waist, he shoves his hands under your armpits and lifts you up from the ground before throwing you onto his bed. You yelp when your back hits the mattress. Sandor simply grins at your shock from being so easily manhandled.  “Is that cunt as pretty as your face, girl?” Blood rushes to your cheeks, coloring them, but still you open your legs, baring yourself. You’re a soaking, dripping mess. He’s certain he’s never seen a cunt as wet as yours is right now. It makes his throat feel dry…and in desperate need of a drink. Not willing to wait any longer, Sandor sinks to his knees and dives his face between your thighs. His tongue drags along your folds before it grazes your clit. Even at the slightest touch, you sigh and arch into his mouth. “More. Please, give me more.” Your pleas are sweet. So sweet that he’s no longer interested in teasing. He repeats the movement of his tongue but this time uses the flat of it to press firmer against your sensitive bud. You cry out, thighs closing tightly around his head. Sandor grunts, his arms sliding under your legs. He curls them around your thighs and uses his hands to keep your legs apart. With your movements restricted, he smashes his mouth against your clit. His lips wrap around it and suck. You buck and manage to throw a leg over his shoulder. Your foot presses against his broad back, using it as leverage to grind your hips towards his mouth. He smirks, proud that he’s the one eliciting such a response from you. While it’s true he rarely spends his coin on whores, this skill was something he learned long before his days at King’s Landing. In his youth, there had been a servant girl who worked in the kitchens. They had grown up together and thus she hadn’t ever feared his burned face. Exploring one another's bodies had felt natural. That’s how Sandor became acquainted with the taste of women. Once upon a time, they might have been married…if Gregor hadn’t found out and killed her in a jealous rage. Sandor forces the past from his mind. There’s no use in it when he has your cunt filling his senses. He savors the taste on his tongue, using it to flick your clit while sucking on it. You continue to buck and cry out, the pleasure clearly building for you. But he doesn’t want you reaching your peak just yet. He moves away, only slightly. His saliva mixes with your slick. They drip together making you all the more wet. It’s a delicious sight.

“Messy thing,” he praises, and he can feel the way your toes curl against his back. “You know,” he continues, “I usually spend my nights drinking but you’ve interrupted that.” Purposely, he pauses, letting you think he’s actually upset. You whimper, ready to apologize but Sandor speaks over you, his voice huskier than before. “Are you going to make it up to me, girl? And give me something else to drink?” You stumble over your words but still manage to speak, “Y-Yes Master, anything.”

Sandor hums from the back of his throat and swipes your clit with his tongue before answering. “Then be a good little slut and cum on my tongue.” Not bothering to wait for a reply, he runs his tongue to your slit, gathering more juices along the way. He probes your entrance before letting it fill you. You gasp in time with his moan. No longer can he taste the wine he was previously drinking. His taste buds are filled with nothing but your cunt. He vigorously pumps his tongue in and out of you. Your hands find his head, fingers tangle in hair in an attempt to tug him in deeper. “Fuckkkk, you’re so good with your tongue, Master!” Usually Sandor hates being touched without permission, but you’re so desperate it feels like he’d be committing a sin if he stopped you.

Besides, you’re dripping down his chin and giving him exactly what he wanted—a drink. But like a man starved, he wants more. He presses his thumb to your clit to stroke it. You throw your head back and sing. It’s the purest music he’s ever heard. 

The louder you moan, the harder his cock throbs.

For the next few moments, the only sounds are your cries of pleasure and his grunts against your core.

It isn’t long before you start trembling, to the point that even your inner thighs shake.

“I…I’m going to–”

You don’t need to finish your sentence for Sandor to know that you’re about to cum. He doesn’t let up the movements of his tongue or the pressure to your clit but still you try to force words out of your mouth. “P-Please. Please can I–?” Realization flashes through him. You were asking for permission to cum. Why you think you needed to ask, Sandor doesn’t know, but Gods if it isn’t the most erotic fucking thing. He moves away just enough to speak. “Go on, girl. Give me what I want and cum.” His tongue plunges back into your depths and you spasm around it. When your orgasm hits, your entire body goes rigid and breathy, unrestrained moans bleed from your throat. His cock twitches wildly in response, precum surely dripping onto the stone floor he’s kneeling on. You’ve coated his tongue with your juices, making Sandor wonder if you’ll do the same to his cock. He works you through your aftershocks while drinking from you, licking up every drop he can.   It's only when you fall limply back onto the mattress that he stops and removes his tongue and fingers from you. He sits back to look you over. You’re even more beautiful with a flushed face and glossed over eyes.

“Thank you for letting me cum, Master,” you murmur politely.

And just when he thought you couldn’t be any more perfect. Rising onto the bed, he grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you towards him. His mouth crashes onto yours, forcing his tongue past your parted lips.

You return the kiss in a flurry of passion while your hands roam freely over his body. Starting from his shoulder, you trail your hands down his bare chest to his hip bones. He moans into your kiss, enjoying the feeling of your soft hands and the way you gently suck at his tongue.

Your hands continue downward until your fingertips brush against his still very hard cock.

He breaks the kiss with a smirk. “Something you want, Little One?” You brush your lips against his with a nod. “Make me belong to you.” “I thought you already did,” he teases gruffly with his hot breath in your face. “You’re my property, remember?” Color blooms across your cheeks, but whether it’s in satisfaction or embarrassment, Sandor isn’t sure. “I am. I belong to you, Lord Hound. I’m your—” He barks over you, cutting you off. “What did I say about that ‘my lord’ shit?” You instantly close your mouth, lips pressing into a thin line at your mistake. Fucking hells. He wanted to fuck you, not scold you. Sandor lets out a breath and forces himself to soften his tone. “I don’t need fancy titles, my name is good enough.” Your expression falls, the color draining from your cheeks. “King Joffrey only referred to you as ‘The Hound’. Is…Is that not your name?” You look upset, bordering on mortified but Sandor can’t stop the gruff laugh that bubbles from his chest. 

“I should have known that slimy little bastard would pull something like that.” You look thoroughly confused. His dark eyes look you over, your once pliable body now stiff as stone. However, it’s the ribbon of his house sigil that catches his attention. It doesn’t have the same appeal now that he knows you don’t know what it means. “And I’m guessing he didn’t tell you the meaning behind this?” he questions bitterly and starts untying it from around your neck. You shake your head ‘no’. “Just that it would please you to see me wear it.” He pulls the ribbon free, but before he can toss it away, you grip his large hand with both of yours. “Tell me? Please, Master, I want to know.” You ask so sincerely that it halts his movements. Your eyes meet, and all his willpower leaves him. “It’s the sigil for my house.” “House?” you prompt in hopes he’ll continue. 

“Clegane.” You smile bright, repeating after him so you could lock the information away forever. Sandor, on the other hand, is too distracted by the new rush of blood that pumps down to his groin. When he doesn’t say anything else, you squeeze his hand gently. “And my Master’s given name?” “Sandor.” “Sandor.” You take your time saying it, as if tasting his name on your tongue. “Sandor Clegane,” you whisper with a smirk, noticing how he starts leaning in closer. He doesn’t stop, forcing you to shift your position and slowly lay back onto the bed. “Master Sandor.”  You moan and he growls. Your legs part to accommodate him and he places a hand beside your head, trapping you beneath him. “You don’t need to call me Master.” Your smirk widens. “But you like it when I do.” He huffs because you’re right. “Fucking vixen,” he snarls and kisses you hard. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders and your legs hike up to his hips, allowing his cock to press against your core. You’re still so warm and wet that it’s almost painful to not plunge himself inside. And maybe he would have if you hadn’t been so smug just now. “Beg,” he commands, while the hand not holding him up grips your neck. “And tell your Master what you want.” His fingers wrap effortlessly around your throat. He doesn’t do this to hurt you, just to apply enough pressure so you know who’s in charge. To his surprise, you moan and tilt your head back to give him better access. “That’s better,” he coos and rewards you by running his tongue from your jawline to the shell of your ear. “Brat just needed to be put back in her place, didn’t she?” His hot breath in your ear gives you goosebumps. “Yes, Master. I’m sorry, Master.” “Then prove it.” He gives your throat another squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll behave, I swear.” Your hands run from his forearms, over his muscular shoulders and down his chest until the swell of your breasts are pressed against him. “I just want my Master to claim me. Want to feel him inside.” You pause and rock your hips forward to grind your cunt against his length. “Please, Sandor? Please fuck me.”  It’s his name that does him in. He isn’t used hearing it, let alone someone saying it while asking him to fuck them. He straightens his back and guides your legs to fully wrap around his waist. You continue pleading but instead of giving you a verbal reply, he plunges balls deep inside of you. You both instantly tense. He, because of the tightness of your walls clinging around him, and you, because of the sudden intrusion of his cock demanding to be taken. “That’s it. Taking me so well,” he breathlessly praises, slowly moving out, then back in so you’d have time to adjust. He breathes out, watching his cock glisten from your juices when he pulls out a bit. Your head lulls to the side with a moan, feeling beyond stuffed full but also whole.

“Is this what you wanted, girl? To be speared on my cock and used?” “Yes!” you cry, trying to arch back to get his cock deeper. “Please use me. Ruin me for anyone else.”

At that, he slams into you, not being able to wait any longer. You yelp at the pressure, screaming and twisting your fists into the bedsheets. There’s no way he could keep his pace slow, not when you feel this good melting around his cock. 

You had said you wanted to be ruined. Sandor Celegane might not be a lord, or a knight, or a gentleman, but he could most certainly ruin you with his cock.

He repositions your legs, throwing them over his shoulders so that your feet are by his ears. He’s able to fuck you even deeper now, his balls smacking against you with every brutal thrust.

His rhythm is rough and steady. And with how tightly he holds your legs in place, you can do nothing but lay there moaning and clenching around him. 

“You’ll never forget this. When the next flimsy little knight comes along to fuck you, it’ll be my cock you think about.” 

Your eyes screw shut, the pleasure building in your lower belly. It feels like he’s everywhere, filling your cunt and taking over your mind and body. How you manage to nod in response is beyond you. But a nod isn’t good enough.

“Say. It,” he snarls, punctuating his words with even deeper thrusts. You curl your toes with a whine. “It’ll be your cock, Master! Only your cock.” “Mhmm, good girl.” He looks down at where your bodies are joined and sees his cock, hard, ribbed with veins and coated in your juices as it thrusts in and out of your wet hole. It’s a glorious sight and it has his orgasm threatening to hit, but there’s something he has to do first. And that’s making you cum. He reaches between your bodies and easily finds your clit. He rubs it, strokes it, and draws circles on it until he finds the touch that has you babbling in broken, indecipherable sentences.

“I want you to cum,” he speaks in labored breathing, rubbing your clit while still spearing you on his length. “I want you to cum for me now. ”

For a moment, you fall completely silent, but then it hits. The unfiltered, beautiful howls that accompany your climax. All the while your inner walls close around him in the most delicious way.

He curses, lurching forward as you gush and spasm all over him. It’s too much and he’s quickly following you over the edge, filling you with his cum. Like a cat having their head scratched, an almost purring like sound leaves you at the feeling of him filling you with his seed. It has Sandor feeling dazed as to why that would please you, but his focus is on steadying his breathing as he comes down from cumming for the first time in fuck knows how long. Your breathing is also labored, while your eyes struggle to stay open. It’s clear you’re fighting off sleep. He carefully slips out of you, even more careful not to jostle you as he sits on the edge of the bed. He finds his wineskin from earlier by the foot of the bed. Greedily, he drinks from it until his throat no longer feels dry. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of your naked form. If he was this thirsty, then your throat must be raw after all that screaming. He reaches for you, tugging you into his arms to help you sit up. You whine, eyes fluttering open, but relax when he pulls you to sit between his thighs and leans you against his chest. “Here, this will help soothe your throat.” He hands you the wineskin, which you graciously take. Sandor watches you take long, slow sips. A drop slips past your mouth and drips down your chin to land on your breast. He grins. He likes a woman who doesn't mind getting dirty. You’re just as beautiful now as you were when he first walked in to you demurely sitting on the floor. “Will you tell me your name?”

You lower the wineskin from your lips and say it with a smile. This time it’s he who repeats you, liking the way it rolls off his tongue. You nod, smiling at him before taking another drink. He stands and starts making his way to the basin of water set on a small table in the corner of the room. “Drink as much as you like. I can get more,” he says from over his shoulder as he starts washing away the sweat on his chest and the slick that you’ve managed to coat even his balls in. Afterwards, he puts on a pair of lightweight sleep pants. When he turns back to you, he expects to find you still drinking or dressing, but instead he finds you sitting on his bed and watching him. “Where are your nightclothes?” You fidget uncomfortably, looking away. Sandor grunts under his breath, he should have known this wouldn’t last. “If you don’t wish to stay, then just say so.” The bite in his voice is evident and you snap your head up in his direction. “I-It’s not that!” you protest. “I want to stay. I just…don’t have any clothes.” His brows pull together in confusion, “Joffrey didn’t leave your clothes here for you?” You shake your head ‘no’. That angers him. Joffrey was a callous shit but to leave you with nothing was just cruel. “No personal belongings? How the fuck did he expect you to get home after this?” You flinch, once again looking away. “The King said….” you trail off. “Nevermind, Master.” Your discomfort radiates off of you. Quietly, he fishes out a clean shirt out of a trunk at the end of the bed and makes his way over to you. “Arms up, Little One.”

You lift your head and see the shirt in his hands. You obey and he slips the shirt over your head and helps you dress. “This damn thing is going to look more like a dress on you, but it’ll do until morning.” You pull your knees to your chest while muttering a ‘thank you’. There’s still something bothering you and Sandor is determined to figure out what it is. “Look at me,” he commands, knowing you’ll obey. You do and he continues. “Do you know why they call me ‘The Hound’?” You stare at him in fascination and shake your head. “Because I can smell a lie as easily as I can breathe. So out with it. What’s upsetting you?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip before responding. “King Joffrey told me I didn’t need to pack anything because he bought me from the keeper of the pleasure house. He…” You falter, trying to find the bravery to continue. “He said that if you didn’t wish to keep me once we were through, that he’d pass me around to his other guards until they used me up. Or that maybe he’d kill me himself.” Rage boils in his blood. Not only because Joffrey put you through hell, but because he suddenly can’t bear the thought of another having you. “No one is going to touch what’s mine.” The threat of his words hangs in the air but you look relieved. “You…You mean you’ll keep me here with you?” Sandor nearly chokes because he hadn’t thought that far ahead. All he knew is that he didn’t want Joffrey or any other to get their hands on you. “Is…Is that what you want?” You smile bright, brighter than the summer’s sun. “Nothing would make me happier, Master.” As beautiful as you are, and as lovely as it sounds to have a warm cunt to bury himself in each night, the cold blade of reality cuts through. “Well don’t go making it sound like it’ll be all sunshine and lemoncakes. I’m not by any means a joy to live with and—” But you aren’t listening because you’re too busy crawling into his lap. You straddle him and nuzzle your face into the side of his neck. “Thank you, Sandor,” you whisper against his skin, melting against his body as you make yourself comfortable. No one had ever thanked him in his entire life. He isn’t sure how to handle it. The longer you lay against him, the more a warmth blooms inside his breastbone. He likes the way it feels having you close. It makes him feel things. Things he doesn’t have a name for. You let out a small sigh, seemingly starting to fall asleep while sitting up. He shifts and lays down on the bed with you still tucked against his chest. 

There was no way of knowing what the future held, but Sandor Celange did know one thing….. This was the best damn present he’d ever received.

[pinkykats-place]

Sandor Clegane x Reader Insert Fics

Tumblr Recommendations

Disclaimers!

Stories and Gif are NOT mine.

Some contain mature content.

Readers are mostly female.

Note: if you read and enjoy any of these stories - please like, leave a comment and/or reblog original post!

In the North

Summary: they had a relationship before they had to part ways and so they get reunited when reader is sent with Jorah by Daenarys to get a white walker, Beric and Thoros is in disbelief that Sandor can be able of loving someone

Love?

Sandor Clegane x Stark!Reader

Opposites Attract

Sandor Clegane x fem!reader

The Kennel Master’s Daughter

Sandor x female!Reader

Sandor Clegane x fem!nurse!reader

Warnings: none it's fluffy

Summary: Back at the time when Joffrey was king, the king's guard got into a fight with the people of flea bottom ending up with many of them injured including Sandor Clegane himself. What will happen when out of all the nurses only Y/N is brave enough to help him?

A Hound Will Die For You But Never Lie To You 

Trigger warnings: NSFW, swearing, all the usual Game Of Thrones warnings.

Rating: M (It jumps right in there so if that’s triggering for you I’d suggest skipping it)

Summary: Imagine being the one to gentle the rage inside Sandor Clegane.

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x Reader (gender neutral).

Everything

Summary: A little drabble about Sandor’s feelings for the reader.

Scarred

Summary: Request from anon: I have a request! Sandor/Reader where the reader is being really lovey with Sandor and kissing him everywhere and she kisses his scarred side and he pushes her away but eventually gives in because she’s persistent that she will kiss him there and that he doesn’t have to worry because she loves his face.

An unexpected scene

NSFW Fic

Angered Beasts

Request: Hi can I request a drabble where the reader is one of joffreys playthings, like sansa is, and she runs into the hound after a beating? Something a little fluffy, please x

Warning: Mentions of violence and slight blood, female reader

Bathing in a tub with Sandor - drabble

Last Night

Fem!Stark!Reader

Request: Are requests still open? If so, please could I request a Hound x Stark reader where they confess their feelings for each other before they fight the Night King?

Good Dog

Warnings: Spoiler!,Fluff, swearing

Summary: Reader is found in the snow 

Hounds and Gingers

Summary: a short, fluffy imagine

An Urgent Confession

(female reader)

Summary: A little story about the reader reminiscing of a moment between her and Sandor 

A Hound’s Jealousy

Just a short little jealous!Hound request

Warnings: jealous Sandor, handsy guy

A Good Punishment

Summary: a handmaid is given to the King’s dog

Another Drink

Summary: rough smut with Sandor after he’s sees you with Bronn

Meeting at Winterfell

Summary: Imagine being a Stark and meeting Sandor Clegane at Winterfell

Imagine Sandor realizing that Tormund has a crush on you

Jealous Sandor…

Sharing a Bed with the Hound

Awkward Fluff!

To Break the Spell

Summary: Beauty & the Beast au

Imagine it’s you who Sandor takes away from Kings Landing during the Battle of Blackwater Bay

Series: More Than Our Servitude

Sandor Clegane x Fem!Reader

Summary: You lived your life as one of the washerwomen of the Red Keep, only seeing the Hound in passing. Still, when the madness of the Battle of Blackwater erupted, he came for you. The Hound is weary from battle, but you try and soothe what little you can.

Our Family

Sandor x wife!Reader

Summary: Sandor enjoys spending the day with his wife and son

His Queen

Sandor x female Reader

Sandor is soft with joffery’s wife

Sandor’s Secret

Sandor x fem!Reader

Summary: Sandor has a secret hidden away from everyone.

Series: Fox and the Hound

Sandor x Reader

Summary: 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. 

Secret Wife (female reader)

Based on this request:  Can you do something with Sandor secretly having a wife. Maybe they met when he was serving king Robert and they met when she was hunting and eloped after a few years. She left before the battle of Blackwater because Sandor didn’t want her getting wrapped up in that so They meet again in Winterfell and no one can actually believe it.  

WITH THIS ADDED: Sandor and reader in a somewhat secret relationship. Tormund keeps hitting on reader in front of Sandor and finally his jealousy gets the better of him and he makes a loud declaration of their love. 

[author-morgan]

Title: A Dove and a Hound Rating: T Pairing: Sandor Clegane x fem!Reader Summary: A little dove with broken wings must save her wounded Hound. Or in which Sandor Clegane finds something sweeter than killing. Word count: ~3.7k Warnings: Injury/blood and typical Westerosi shenanigans.

ARYA STARK LOOKS at the bleak landscape around where they had made camp for the night in the northern Riverlands—almost in the Vale. It’s all craggy with sharp boulders and high patches of land, and hardly any trees. The names roll off her tongue as they do every night. The Mountain, The Hound, Cersei, Illyn Payne, Meryn Trant...she doesn’t make it to the next name after hearing the scraping of boots on rock nearby. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Syrio Forel’s words are burnt into her memory. 

"What’re you going on about now, girl?" The rasp of the Hound's voice makes her jump, and she curses him, looking up at the night sky, watching for shadows when she hears the soft noise again.

“We’re being watched,” she tells him, turning on her bedroll to face the Hound, her hand resting on the hilt of Needle.

His laugh cuts through the air—a rough sound that hurts her ears in a strange way. A man like the Hound should never laugh. "Here, in the middle of fucking nowhere?" His scarred face looks all the more hideous with the light of the fire licking at his skin. "Finish your little list, girl, then go the fuck to sleep." Arya frowns and looks around again at the land but sees nothing but boulders and empty plains, but she knows someone is out there. 

Sandor Clegane won’t admit it, but the Stark girl’s warning is the reason he stays up for over half the night. Then, when he’s certain Arya is asleep, he rises from his bedroll and unsheathes his sword, setting off to search between boulders and in the shadows cast by their dwindling campfire. But there’s nothing there. The Hound moves to return to his bedroll, but that’s when he hears quiet cursing and soft crying. And then he finds a woman huddled between two rocks, trying to nurse an injured leg. 

You see the hulking shadow approach too late to muffle your grunts and groans of pain. “Come any closer and I’ll put a fucking arrow through your eye!” You shout. But Sandor Clegane can see the bow in your hand is broken, even if you try to hold the two wooden pieces together to make it seem whole. Then he sees the broken arrow shaft sticking out of your swollen calf, too—the reason for your caterwauling. 

“With a broken bow and the only arrow you got stuck in your leg?” The Hound asks, laughing. “Pay a couple of hundred silver stags to see that done.” Sandor drives his sword into the dirt and awkwardly kneels near you, looking over the wound. He can feel your eyes on him, gaze nigh burning. But the soft white light of the moon softens the sight of his half-burned face. He looks familiar. Like you’ve seen him in passing somewhere—or maybe on the parchments nailed outside taverns noting bounties and the enemies of the Crown. 

You swallow the knot in her throat and look up at him—you might not be able to place who he is, but you know he’s dangerous, a killer. “Well, go on,” you snap, tears stinging in your eyes. “Kill me and get it over with.”

The Hound recoils as though stung by the words—he knows he’s put a lot of people in the ground, but for some damn reason, he can’t stomach the thought of landing the mercy blow now. You close your eyes and wait—no longer fearing death or pain. But the cold bite of steel never comes. Instead, Sandor Clegane lifts you into his burly arms and heads back toward the dying campfire.

Arya’s surprised when the Hound returns and lets you down to rest against the boulder nearest the fire. The girl’s quick on her feet, bringing a half-filled skin of water, and you greedily drink. "Think I'll end up losing it?" You ask the girl—wiping your mouth with a torn sleeve—a glint of humor shining through as you pat your thigh, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain that shoots down to your calf and makes your toes curl. 

“If you’ve gone this long” —Sandor crouches down and looks closer at your injury— “it’ll take more than an arrow to kill you,” he says. It earns him a dry and humorless laugh with a surprising grimness. Given enough time, he thinks he could come to enjoy the company, but right now, he and Arya Stark are already pressed for time, luck, and coin. Neither of them needs the liability of an injured woman—another mouth to feed—on the path to the Eyrie. Be best to leave her come the morning, he thinks, but now that he’s brought you back here, he knows the Stark girl won’t let that happen.

“May I have your name, good ser?” You finally ask—it only seemed proper to know the name of your white knight.  

Sandor Clegane looks at you, and the firelight paints the tangled and twisted mass of scars on his face red—pocking the flesh with craters and cracks. “Not a fucking knight,” he bites back.

And then you can piece everything together—his brute size, the burned half of his face, the posters scattered around the Riverlands. The rumors people whispered are true then, you think. Joffrey’s dog tucked tail and ran while the Blackwater burned. “You’re The Hound.” He grunts. You glance at the girl staring down at you with wide ice-grey eyes. If he’s the Hound then... “You’re Arya Stark.” The girl nods.

The silence that grows between the three of you is heavy and tense. You shift and grimace again. Then your gaze flits back over to the Hound. “Well, are you going to help me get this arrow out my fucking leg or not?” You ask, not understanding why he hauled you back here if he didn’t mean to do something about your current state. “'Cause if you aren’t, I’d sooner you cut the damn thing off or put me out of my misery.”

Sandor moves to you after that and cuts away the fabric of your britches from the arrow, then calls Arya over to set his dagger in the flames—unwilling to go closer. She does as he says, pushing the blade into the hot coals, but then Arya Stark leaps to her feet when she sees Sandor’s hand grip the shaft of the arrow—like he means to tear it from flesh. She knocks his hand away then pushes back on his shoulder, almost hard enough to knock him off balance from where he sits on his haunches. 

“We can’t just pull it out!” She tells the Hound like it should be obvious. But he’s not the one who grew up with a maester in Winterfell or spent time reading any books.  

“Then how you gone get it out, girl?” He asks, gruff and impatient. You glance between the odd pair, wondering how they haven’t killed one another by now. Arya crouches down and prods the swollen and bloody flesh, then without warning, she grips the arrow shaft and breaks off the fletching. Seven hells, you think, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep a wail of pain at bay, I am going to lose my leg. 

“Push it through,” Arya says, remembering the time she watched Maester Luwin remove an arrow from a hunter's shoulder. The Hound grunts and draws a second, smaller dagger, starting to whittle away at the splintered end of the broken arrow shaft. 

Arya goes to fetch more water and brings back a cloth with her before settling down to watch with wide, curious eyes. Blood starts to seep down your calf around the entry and exit of the arrow shaft from being handled so roughly. Satisfied with his woodwork, the Hound steadies your leg against his trunk and starts to pull on the iron-forged arrowhead. 

You grit your teeth together, fingers digging into the soft earth below, as he begins to ease the wooden shaft through gently and quickly as he can. Arya watches your face twist in pain, but somehow, you don’t cry out. It feels like an eternity. Sandor sets the arrow aside and takes the waterskin from the Stark girl, dumping the cool water over your leg to wash away the blood—there’s a cool but welcome sting.

Sandor tosses the empty skin back to Arya. "More water, girl,” he rasps. 

“Bring wine too,” you insist, and the Hound howls with laughter.

“Seven hells,” Arya remarks. You’re just like him. The girl heads off, then comes back with more water and looks at the open wound on your leg with a scrunched-up nose. 

“Needs to be sealed with fire,” Sandor says, sitting back on his haunches, that’s why he already had Arya put a dagger into the flames. They don’t have salves and ointments and teas and brews to keep infection at bay, and despite his fear and hatred of the fire, he knows it’s the best way to clean and seal a wound like this.

“I’ll do it,” Arya offers. Her hands are steady, and the fire and heat don’t bother her like it does the Hound. He nods, and the girl goes to fetch the hot knife. They give you a strip of leather to bite down on, and then the Hound looks away when the girl presses the flat of the blade against your flesh—you do scream then. He knows that pain—that scream—and the putrid scent of burning flesh that jumps into the air. Black dots and white stars dance around in your vision. It hurts worse the second time. But you fight through it. 

Your gaze settles on Arya after a while, struggling to stay awake. “Where are you taking her?” You ask, eyes flitting to Sandor Clegane. The two are an odd traveling party that much is certain—a Hound and a wolf—made even stranger by your sudden arrival. 

“The Vale,” he tells you, “she has an aunt there.” You hadn’t expected a man with his reputation to do something so kind, not even if heavy coin purses were offered as rewards. A hush falls over you, but then the Hound rises and picks up a threadbare blanket from his bedroll. He drapes it over your shoulders, not ungently. “Best get some rest,” he says. “It’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”

THE DAYS ARE both quick and slow to pass, and soon, you’ve lost track of the time since meeting Arya Stark and the Hound—it could have been a few weeks or maybe months. But since that fateful night, your wounds have healed cleanly, and the only reminders of them are a fading scar and the limp in your stride after long days or over strenuous terrain. You remember the first time you insisted on walking instead of riding Stranger—a great black, unruly destrier. When you slowed, Sandor Clegane slung you over his shoulder like a sack of flour before depositing you back on the horse and complaining about the slow pace. Arya Stark was particularly amused by it all. 

Disappointment is all that awaits you all at the Bloody Gate of the Vale. Lysa Arryn is dead, and her young son and named protector, Petyr Baelish, will not accept visitors—not even one of Lysa’s own kin. So at the point of arrowheads and tips of steel blades, the Hound turns back, and you and Arya follow, trekking through the Vale and back to the Riverlands, unsure of what to do and where to go. Arya says they should go north, to the Wall—she has a brother in the Night’s Watch—or across the Narrow Sea.

There’s a small village not far, and you take a handful of silver stags and copper stars in hopes of replenishing your stock of ointments and bandages—especially with the now festering wound on Sandor’s neck, a nasty bite from a rogue—and maybe a decent bottle of wine or ale too. But by the time the sun is beginning to set and you return to Sandor and Arya, they’re not to be found. 

The campsite is empty. The fire still burning. The bedrolls laid out for the coming evening. You look around the craggy landscape, feeling panic seize your heart and stomach—mind racing. “Arya!” You shout, but there is no response from the girl. “Sandor!” And again, there is nothing but silence.

If not for the fading evening sun glinting off tarnished pieces of silver armor, you think you might not have found him. You stumble over to him, kneeling at his side, fearing the worst. But his chest still rises and falls, and he starts when you touch his cheek, hand wrapping around your wrist, leaving a thick smearing of blood. 

There’s something in your eyes, not pity, but he’s not seen that look before —almost doesn’t want to think of what it could be, could mean. Sandor’s grip goes slack, and he grimaces, each breath a ragged rasp. You look over his mangled shoulder, the bruises and scrapes on his face, the muscle-deep cuts on his palm, and his lame leg. These wounds are beyond your skills, and there are not like to be any travelers on this path for days.

The Hound tugs free a dagger from his belt and places it in your hand. "Go on,” he rasps, nodding toward the knife, resigned to his new fate. “Get on with it." The Stark girl wouldn’t put him out of his misery for the hatred she still bore toward him, but maybe you would. 

Your fingers curl around the hilt of the blade, grip tightening, but frozen in place—unwilling and unable to move. "I can't," you breathe, fervidly shaking your head. I won’t. He curses you when you drive the blade into the hard earth and not his heart. Sandor Clegane saved you from certain death, and now you’ve a chance to return the favor.

You wet a strip of cloth and dab it over his bloodied face until he turns his head to look at you. "If you think I'm some wounded pup you can redeem, you're stupider than I thought, woman,” he snarls like an aggrieved dog. 

But you don’t pay any mind to his hateful words. “Be still,” you chide, gently, going to collect the pack of supplies from Stranger’s saddle. The Dornish strongwine eases the pain, and he lets you clean the rest of the cuts and bruises to the best of your abilities —his broken leg, though. You aren’t sure what to do, but you know if something isn’t done soon, Sandor Clegane won’t be using that leg again in this lifetime. You lose track of how many times you have to wander down to the nearby stream. All you know is the limp in your step has come back. By nightfall, the wine and pain claim him, and you’ve said your prayers to the Seven, asking them to spare your poor wounded Hound.

There’s a dim lantern on the dark horizon, steadily drawing nearer and brighter, and then you can hear the rattling of a cart and the braying of a mule. You rise from your post and go to intercept the rickety cart thumping along the winding trail. The mule comes to a halt—the path forward blocked. 

The driver has a kind face, rounded from smiles and wrinkled with wisdom, and eyes that are deep and thoughtful but speak of the horrors of the world. “A lady and her knight,” he muses, sparing a glance at the makeshift medicinal supplies illuminated by faint firelight and the state of the brutish man sleeping—half-dead more like.

“Can you help us?” You ask. “Please.” And the broken plea strikes something deep down in the man’s heart.  

He thinks on it for a moment. “Aye,” the man says, “I can try.” If he couldn’t, the others on the Quiet Isle could—especially the Elder Brother. His dusty brown robes dust across the rocky ground as he goes to the Hound’s side. It takes all your strength combined to lift Sandor Clegane into the cart—even with the weight of his armor gone. Then you clamber to the front of the cart next to Sandor, letting his head rest in your lap, and with a snap of the reins, the mule walks on again, heading south along the bumpy road—it would be a long night.

Weary and exhausted, you look between the Hound and the driver. “Who are you?” 

“You can call me Ray,” the kindly man says. “I’ll take you both to the Quiet Isle. The Elder Brother can help.” You’ve heard tales of the isle—where men go to atone for their sins and take vows of silence. Some even say those who reside in the Bay of Crabs live in a world unlike the one ravished by war and pain. Brother Ray can see the growing trepidation on your expression. It’s nigh common knowledge women are not allowed to dwell on the Quiet Isle. “Won’t force you and your knight to be parted,” he tells you. 

“He’s not a knight,” you murmur, eyes trailing from the road ahead to Sandor, knowing he doesn’t like being called a knight—and for good reason. 

“No, but it seems he’s your knight,” Ray says with a chuckle, sparing a wayward glance back at you and the Hound. You flush at the thought and turn your gaze to Sandor, his head resting on your thigh.

A MONTH PASSES and Sandor is as well as he’ll ever be. The damage done to his leg makes him limp after long distances or strenuous tasks, but no one would be able to say such injuries made the Hound a feeble man. Even now, you’ve never seen a man split firewood with so much power and anger. Sometimes, you wonder if he hates you for not ending it when he pleaded for the blade’s mercy. But on the day when the brothers let you see him again, he wore a fleeting smile, soft and weak—the first time you’d seen such a sight. 

Storms roll in for the night, and lightning flashes through the window—thunder rattling your featherbed. You pull the covers tighter, squeezing your eyes shut, praying for sleep to come. It feels childish to be afeared of a storm, but it’s a reminder of the night the Lannister men destroyed your home and family and put an arrow in your leg. Rousing from the uneasy rest, you pull on your dressing robe and wrap the wool and linen blanket around your shoulders before setting off in search of company. 

His bed is empty, and you frown. Disheartened, you turn back only to bump into a solid wall of flesh and muscle. No man his size had a right to move around so quietly. “What are you doing awake, little dove?” Sandor asks, and you’re unable to meet his gaze with your flushed cheeks as you search for a valid answer. “Can’t sleep?” He surmises, and grateful he spake first, you nod sheepishly. The hand that wraps around your wrist is warm and calloused, yet his touch is light—as though you’re some bird with a broken wing. But wordless, you climb onto the bed next to Sandor, still huddled under your blanket, but not alone, and even with the storm raging outside, within these walls with him, you’re safe. 

The morning light breaks through the small window—only glowing embers remain in the hearth, not enough to chase away the chill in the air. You wake to find yourself alone, and it sends a strange pang of sadness through your heart. Making your way back to your chambers, you change into a plane shift and stride from the cottage to find him—the wet grass tickling the soles of your feet as you head down a winding path toward the water’s edge.

Sandor is sitting down on the rocky shore of the island, his dusty brown cloak fluttering in the wind. You go to him and sit on the weathered rock next to him. The morning is cool, and the spray of waves breaking against rocks in the bay kisses your cheeks. Wordlessly, the Hound pulls his cloak free and drapes it around your shoulders. In comfortable silence, you pull the coarse material tight and rest your head against his arm, looking out over the water and the clear blue sky—as though the Old Gods had not unleashed their wrath upon the land last night.

After a long while, Sandor rises, knowing it’ll be time to head to the Sept and see what tasks the Brothers need help with today. You’re quick to follow after him, but before he can start up the rocky path again, you brush your hand against his with all the timidness of a mouse, daring to have a lingering touch as you gather the nerve to ask something that’s been festering in the pit of your stomach, in the darkest parts of your mind and the deepest parts of your heart. You take both his hands—rough and twice the size of your own—and look up at the Hound. "Sandor,” you breathe, his name like a birdsong in your voice, “will you kiss me?"

He laughs—thinking you are playing him for a fool. No sane woman would ever wish to have his touch or his kiss. “With this ruined mouth?” He mocks. But the next jape dies on the tip of his tongue when you fist your hand into his woolen tunic, hauling him down with all your strength to just the right height where if you stand on the tips of your toes, you can kiss him. And you do. Sandor is surprised at first, but his hard exterior fades, and then a strong arm curls around your middle, hoisting you up and then off the ground entirely. You pull back for only a quick second and smile for him.

“Little dove,” he rasps when you move your hands to hold his face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks—one marred by the flame—and down into his thick, wiry beard. He half expects to find a shred of fear or disgust in your eyes, but there isn’t any. There never had been. You kiss him again, softer and sweeter this time, and he returns it in full. 

Reluctant to part, he places you back on the ground but is quick to pull you into his side and hold you close in the golden hour of the morning. And for the first time since he can remember, Sandor Clegane has a handful of happy memories, and perhaps, in the end, he's found something even sweeter than killing.

[Game of Thrones taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @hc-geralt-23 / @holysmokesblog / @Idkjj04 / @lady-stark-winter-rose / @mikariell95 / @misskatiewrites / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @nyotamalfoy / @rigshak / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Game of Thrones taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

[dilfssleepingbag]

Sandor Clegane NSFW hcs:

Minors dni !!!

Sandor would call you his Little dove

He isn’t very vocal while fucking you into oblivion, you’d only hear some Small deep grunts.

He is usually very rough and loves to cum deep inside you (he loves to claim what is his)

Very possessive especially when he sees other men staring at you “the next thing that cunt will look at is my fucking fist before I serve him his eyes for breakfast”

Sandor loves choking you and Display the Power he holds over you

He’d wait till you run out of breath before he releases his grip on you and if you’re about to pass out he’d smack your cheek until you regain your consciousness

His dick is probably big enough for it to form a small bulge in your abdomen

He’d Grab Your Hand and press down on it so that you can feel him thrusting in and out of you

During the deed he’d probably call you his little whore

Sandor loves eating you out until your legs are shaking from overstimulation and you’re begging for a break.

He wouldn’t clean his mouth or Beard right after it but wear your juices with Pride

He enjoys spanking you and putting you back in your place when you’re acting like a brat (you can still feel him days After he spanked you)

His favorite position is probably mating press. He loves looking at your face while he squeezes your cheeks to make you look back at him. Your attention should always be on him when he’s fucking you

His second favorite is cowgirl. Sandor enjoys watching you ride him until your legs give out (he’d Probably mock you for that)

His hands are always on you, it’s his way of showing you That you only belong to him.

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sandor Clegane x reader

Chapter 5

Read previous chapter here

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- SMUT! 18+, pinv, unprotected sex, female genitals, fem reader, bruises, size kink (if you squint), 18+ themes and lanaguage, nakedness.

Entering your chambers for the night you let your handmaidens undress you and get you into night wear before you send them away for the night. You sit on the bed brushing your hair out as a book is propped up open to the pages you've been reading. 

The serenity of the reading is broken with the door opening and Sandor walks in having been cleaned off and changed armor sets for the rest of the day. Shocked at first why he’d be in here but then remembering it is supposed to be your shared chambers. 

You watch as Sandor places down his sword and walks to the large chair by the fireplace. He drags the chair a far distance from the fire but still enough to barely feel its warmth. You've arrived at your room late. You now wonder what time it is now you had time to undress, bathe and read for around an hour. You close your book and get up. As you see him, he sits in the chair. 

“I thought I told the servants not to place this fucking chair here!” He bellows angrily at the events of the day. 

“Sandor.” You speak. 

“And I thought I told you NOT TO CALL ME THAT!” He yells slumping down into the chair. You walk over to him. 

“Take off your armor or I can call in the servants to come help you” you say. 

“I don't want servants here.” He grumbles. 

“May I help you?” You ask boldly he gives you a glare before his gaze softens once his eyes focus on your features, soft and comforting. 

He reluctantly nods as you move closer to him. You step into the space between his legs and reach to the side of him the smell of the lavender and pine scented bath you took earlier fills his noise with the comforting smell of you. 

“I want to apologize to you…I didn’t mean it…what I said. I don’t hate you. You’re actually very hard to hate.” You say Your fingers fiddle with the clasps getting them undone taking off the chest pieces and untying the rest picking it up off him and setting it to the side of the chair. 

He doesn't answer your comment As you stand back up to remove the chain metal he wears underneath, you stop for a second as his hands place themselves on your waist feeling up and down the sides of your body. His large hands basically engulf you as he pulls you closer to him. 

“I-i need to get this off you.” You say. He doesn't answer, mesmerized by the way you fit in his hands. 

“Sandor?” You ask him. He looks up at you briefly before pulling his hands away for you to remove the last garment, setting it down along with the other armor. He sits left in the white cotton tunic and black slacks. His hands return to their original position against you firmly placed in this chosen spot. 

You take the opportunity to place your hands against his cheeks, your thumb brushing against his cheek, the texture of his scar under your fingertips, the scruff of his stubble against your palm. He flinches at first but lets you feel the left side of his face. 

He frowns as he looks up at you seemingly confused by something about you. 

“What is it? What's wro-“ he stands suddenly but doesn't let you go. He pulls you into him and smashes his lips against yours in a deep kiss. You let out a small noise as he grips your skin and the fabric of your night dress, the thin fabric allowing him to barely feel your skin. 

He pulls back from you feeling your hands move down to his rest on his chest. Looking down at you, your height difference becomes apparent. You’ve stood on your toes and strained your neck to kiss him. his eyes wander your expression he's about to pull back from you when you grip his shirt. 

“Dont.” You speak. 

“Don't leave. Not tonight. Please.” You continue waiting for his reaction. He leans back into you carefully. But you eventually become annoyed and pull him to you kissing him. He easily rips the fabric of your gown off you letting it fall to the ground before picking you up and walking you to the bed, lips still attached.

His hand travels down your side, hiking up your leg by the thigh. He pulls away from the kiss when you pull his shirt off his large toned chest and arms perfect under your touch. You’d never truly realized it before, how handsome Sandor was, how careful.  All the fearful things the women of the court were saying about sex had disappeared as his hands roamed your body and lips kissed your most tender parts. Your hands wandered his strong back and arms. 

Your breast disappears in his grasp as he squeezes it lightly. His kisses moving down your jaw line to your neck. Surly making marks. His hand moves down your front his fingers finding your cunt. Swiping over the fold spreads you to perfectly find your clit making you gasp out a noise you've never made before as you grip onto sador. He continues swirling your fingers around your clit.

“S-sandor.” you call out his name as pleasure surges through your body in waves. His finger passes through your folds as he inserts a digit into you. Thick and rough the perfect texture to bring a moan from your lips. 

“So beautiful sandoe speaks quietly as he watches his finger disappear into your pussy. Your soft wet walls are perfectly lubricating to move another finger into you. The stretch is slightly uncomfortable but it's soon replaced with the pleasure you felt from before. Hooking his fingers upwards pressing them against the spongy spot in you your back arches as a stronger wave of pleasure fills you. 

His gestures against your clit and movement in your pussy cause you to cum, your nails digging into his back clutching onto him which he allows. Your whimpers muffled in the crook of his neck as you shut your eyes, the pleasure becoming overwhelming. 

“It's alright little fox..” he says before pulling his hand away for your parts. You pant as he removes your arms from his body. You feel him pull away from you. You open your eyes to see why immediately feeling self conscious about your fully nude state despite him removing the rest of his garments. Your breath hitches to a halt when your eyes come to contact with the rest of his body. 

You sit up to your knees scooting closer to him standing on your knees at the edge of the bed. Your hands touch his chest feeling the scars that littler his body. He takes your wrist in his hand when you reach for a specific scar. Your eyes look up to his face, his expression back to his usual stern one. 

“I-i'm sorry i-” 

“Dont.” he says before leaning you back down. His hands moving under your knees pulling your thighs up spreading your legs. You turn your head away when he takes his place between you. 

“Look at me.” he says you take a breath and turn to look at him. 

“Are you scared?” he says. 

“Yes…of many things.” you say 

“Are you scared of me?” he asks 

“No…it's not you, I'm scared of sandor. Im scared of the pain.” you say. He leans down to releasing your legs but the sheer size of his body is enough to keep them apart. 

“I won't hurt you little fox.” he says, his thumb caressing your cheek. 

“I want you…sandor..please.” you whine out he grunts your words have gone straight to hardened cock. He looks down your body moving himself to line up with your entrance pushing in. having got  a glimpse at his extremities he is large no doubt what the other women have said. Perhaps he will split you into one. 

“Ngh.” you grip his bicep as the once pleasure you felt form him filling you with his fingers is long forgotten with the pressure from his connecting with you. He continues pushing into you although it's painful you do hope that it won't always be this way. The first man to be in your bed, taking your maidenhead, Sandor “the hound” Clegane.

your nails claw at his shoulders as he thrusts down into you filling you, seating his cock in your cunt balls deep. 

“Ah!” you let out a yelp of tears slipping from your eyes. Trying your hardest not to let out another cry but one slips out regardless. 

“Dont cry.” you hear him as he kisses your face in attempts to distract you from the discomfort between your legs as he moves softly thrusting his hips back and forth against you. He grunts at the feeling of you around him. The three women who he’s ever bedded with never felt the way you do right now, perhaps it was because they weren't virgins, perhaps because they were experienced in letting men do what they want to them. 

The softness of your skin and the tightness of your cunt threaten to make him cum before he's done with you. He looks down upon your face softening as you've adjusted to him and the pleasure his fingers brought you now prominent in your body. 

you whined at the sensation of his cock dragging against your walls as they molded around him. 

His arms propping him up as your small body rests under him gripping onto him like a koala as he thrust into you. Moan and grunts filling the room. The lewd sound of skin against skin and wet noises from where you connect. Your juices mixed with the small amount of blood gain from breaking your hymen. 

“F-fuck y/n.'' Sandor grunts as he pulls your thigh up to him sitting on the bone of his hip. He doesn't struggle to hold himself up with only one arm which you find arousing and impressive. 

Your moans and his name filling your mouth continues to drive straight to his aching cock as he shifts in position gripping your hips as he sits back your ass off the bed your arms have fell to the side as he continues to fuck you loosing himself in you not realsing how rough hes being. You moan become yelps of pleasure as his left hand stays grasping your hip in place and his right gripping your bouncing breast. His large thumb palming at your budded nipple. 

“S-sandor A-ah ah.” You moan out as he leans into you again, someone thrusting deeper and harder into you surly hitting the entrance of your womb. You've never thought the act of sex could be so pleasurable but that of course comes with the correct partner. The way your bodies fit with each other could never have been foreseen. Your pussy being filled by his dick. 

“Fuck.” he grunts out as he grips the head board of bed pulling your leg over his shoulder the new position stretching you out as you clench around him that same wave over pleasure from his finger rushing through you as you experience your second orgasam. 

His grip on your thigh tightens as his cock throbs in you.with a few more rough thrusts he cums filling you. The sensation of him throbbing against you makes your eyes roll back and shut as you claw at his back. Surely making him. Slowing down you pull him into you sharing a kiss. 

Your hands resting upon his cheeks keeping him in place of you. Pulling away only for a quick breath does he look down at your body muttering another curse word. You kiss his face. He places another kiss on your lips reluctantly pulling away from you his forehead resting on your a pained expression on his face as if it could be one of regret.

—----

Morning wakes you were woken by your ladies in waiting. Drawing a bath, cleaning the room and opening the curtains. You looked to your side to also see yourself alone.

Recalling the after event, Sandor stayed with you until you can remember sleeping. You reasted your head on his chest as you both lay under the sheets of clothing and garments scattered across the chamber. You could hear his heart beat slow, heavy and calm. You wondered if would race the whole day and then he came to you for relaxation. His large hands ran up and down your body as your leg was draped over his waist. His fingers caress your bruising skin where he held onto you.

 You sit up in bed, holding the covers close to your body, feeling every part of you to be deliciously sore, never having a feeling is way. You see one of the women picking up the chair to move it back by the fireplace. 

“No Dont. Dont move it back please.” you say she places it back in the spot. You look around the room not seeing any of sandors armor he shed. You reached out for your robe as a maiden ran to your side to help you put it over your naked body. 

A gasp leaves her mouth as she looks at you prompting the other ladies to turn your way. 

“What? What is it?” you ask looking back at the messy bed before looking back at her. 

“Y-your body my lady.” she says you frown looking over to the full length mirror by the dresser as you pull off the robe letting it drop to the floor you see your body bruised everywhere.

“Did lord clegane do this?” another asks. 

You ignore her ask and look at the love bites that mark up your neck and breasts, a bruise along your ribs where the hound held you as well as a large handprint-like mark on your thigh. The marks on your wrist and arms. A smile forms across your face as the memories flood into your mind. 

The door of your room suddenly opens and closes as sandor walks in stopping in his tracks he sees you standing in front of the mirror the marks scattering your body. You turn to look at him, your smile fading when you see his rough expression as he looks around the room at your hand maids. 

When you fell asleep he stayed awake just watching your then way you even slept beautifully however once he saw the day begin to brighten at dawn he got up and dressed leaving to go to do his duty as a kings guard but he was fully intending on coming back to see you wake. And he would have if your maidens hadn't come in earlier than usual. 

“Sandor-” you speak but he turns and walks out with a snarl. 

“S-sandor!” you call as you put your robe back on running after him your bare feet hitting the cold stone of the castle flooring. You open the doors running after him, his long strides already taking him halfway down the hall. 

“Sandor!” you call out reaching him grabbing his hand he huffs and turns to you.

“Good Morning.” you say with a smile. He doesn't answer, just looks down at you. His other hand rested on the handle of his sword. Your smile fades as you 're not happy about something. 

“What's wrong?” you ask. He looks behind you seeing your handmaid's watching you. 

“They are watching to see if i'll hurt you again.” he says deeply before looking back at you. 

“Again?” you ask his eyes to drop down to the rest of you. You open your mouth to speak, to tell him you are far from hurt, but he pulls his hand away from you pulling off his cape and drapes it around you as your robe is slightly see through. 

He nods to you before walking away. 

“My lady the maester is here for you.” your maid says to you. You turn around seeing the grand maester standing with the rest of the girls having been called when they were frightened by your bruises. Angrily you march back to the door of your room. 

“I'M FINE, NOW LEAVE ME ALONE!” You shout before opening the doors to your room closing and locking the latch.

—---

Closed off in your room the rest of the day worries your hand maidens. You lay on the bed covers pulled over yourself. The knock on your door doesn't prompt you to move until you hear the voice behind it. 

“y/n it's me.” Sansa speaks. You look over twords the door. 

“Will you let me in? I haven't seen you all day, are you alright?” she asks. You move the covers off you and get out of bed and walk to the door reaching up to the latch. 

“Please.” she says. You sigh and unlatch the door opening it. You move to the side as you let her walk in. She wears a light pink dress with stones beaded into it. Closing the door behind her as she steps in. 

“Why have you not been out?” she asked. 

“I'm tired, Sansa. I'm tired of the new staff and the changes since I married Sandor last night. I mean...w-we..” you trail off walking back to your bed sitting on it pulling a pillow to your lap. 

“You what?” she asks. 

“You know..he came in angry and i offered him solace.” you say 

“You consummated?!” she exclaims sitting in front of you. 

You nod. 

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Did he force you!” she says take your hands in hers. 

“I'm fine and no! Not far from it. If anything I asked him. He was gentle, very gentle, and called me beautiful. We spent the rest of the night in each other's arms but when I woke this morning he was gone and my handmaidens had awoken me and commented on what he’d left behind. He came back to the room not long after and he got upset and stormed back off again.” you answer.

“What did he leave behind?” she asks, shaking her head in confusion. You take a breath about to explain but rather you show her. You move the sleeve of your robe exposing your shoulders and neck showing her the marks he left as well as the one on your wrist. 

“There's more on my thighs and torso.” you say wish a bashful smile. 

“y/n..!? How can you say he was gentle when this is the outcome? You are bruised from head to toe, littered in love bites.” she says 

“No no that's what i- ugh. He didn't hurt me, that's what they don't understand. Sandor did not hurt me. I don't feel the marks. I do believe I left him with more than a few marks myself.” you say biting your bottom lip looking down at your hands in your lap. 

“What do you mean?” she asks. 

“He had gotten up to cover us and I had scratched his back up..quite heavily.” you say. Sansa snorts a laugh leading you into a laugh as well.

“Did you tell him that you're not hurt?” she asked. 

“I tried but like I said he stormed off. I've been avoiding my maids all day.” you say

“Get dressed, I'll help you. You can come with me to oversee the annual kingdom festival.” she says 

“I don't really want t-”

“Jeoffry will be there.” you say you give her a disgusted look. 

“Now i really don't want to join y-” 

“If Joffrey is there, Sandor will be there.” she says give you a look. You roll your eyes and nod. 

“Fine..” you say. she smiles and hops off the bed as you do going to your dresser to pick out a dress for you.

Chapter 6 here

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hi I just saw that your requests are open! Could you write Sandor with a religious wife [faith of the seven]? Both SFW and NSFW are fine, just whatever you think of! I love your writing🫶

(ah thank you so much!! I've missed writing for Sandor so thank you for indulging me with your request :D enjoy!)

(Sandor Clegane x female reader - no warnings, all SFW :D)

Sandor is not religious himself. He's had too many difficulties with religious people in the past (mostly followers of the Lord of Light), so it might take him a while to warm up to you.

Once he sees that you're truly a good person, that your religion makes you hopeful and strong but not vulnerable, he starts to admire it. In his eyes you're pure and virtuous, which makes him worry that he isn't good enough, but with enough reassurance he might start to believe he's worthy of you.

When you start courting, he finds a seven pointed star pendant that he buys without a second thought to give to you. If he sees you wearing it he's pleasantly surprised, and if you point out how happy it makes him seem then he will absolutely get flustered.

Fancy ceremonies were never really his thing, so your wedding is almost entirely your choice. Any particular traditions that you'd like to incorporate? Give him the puppy eyes, he can never resist you when you look at him like that.

(he's definitely 100% wrapped around your little finger by the time you're in a relationship but he's in denial)

Sandor is willing to put up with almost anything if it makes you happy, and at your wedding he's too awestruck by you to really pay attention anyway.

He remains largely agnostic even after you're married, but he no longer bears the same hatred of religion.

Your commitment and faith is always going to be something he loves about you, and by being yourself in this way you encourage him to be a better person even if you don't realize.

Provided that you have a less tumultuous life than is usual in King's Landing, he starts to view the world a little more from your perspective. He finds himself going out of his way to help people, to think more carefully about his actions, and for the first time in his life Sandor has some hope for the future.

[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.”

[justagirlwholikesadam]

The Wolf Among Men

WARNING: RATED M, smut, death, mention of almost SA, act of violence, Themes of Religion, alcoholism

A/N: This will be my first GOT fanfic, I will being going along with the plot on the show with my own twist. I haven’t read the books so if I get something wrong or the plots are all over the place. Let it be. My story my rules. Please note comments are welcome. Enjoy! -L

Summary: Jon was told that his eldest sister, Y/n arrived to Castle Black. He was surprised when Y/n arrived with The Hound, Sandor Clegane.

Word Count: 11.9K

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Chapter Two

Months Later After The Fall 

A cup of ale was given to Sandor by his father when he killed his first man. Sandor was only 12 and he gagged at the taste of it but his father told him to drink up since he was a man now. Sandor did what any 12 year old would do. He listened to his father and drank it all. He was 15 when he noticed the drinking was the only thing that helped him sleep. It helped him ease the nightmares he had of his older brother. As Gregor grew, the maids in their house disappeared along with a sister, he doesn't recall. 

He has a rough time remembering anything before Gregor did what he did. It was like he had lost his memory after that but it came back in nightmares. Nightmares of his older brother shoving his face in the fire, horrible screams and sounds of a girl choking echoing in the hallways of their home. The news of his father’s death was said to be a “hunting accident”. When he was told of his father’s death it scared him because Gregor stood behind the maesters with a stone cold stare. No one mentioned the blood stain on Gregor’s trousers, no one even dared to say what they were thinking. 

The drinking helped Sandor sleep and not care. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him anymore, not like when he was a kid. He didn’t mind the names or the snickering behind his back but he did have his moments. Sandor was just 16 when he was in a tavern minding his business and drinking by himself. No one dared to bother him but a drunken knight decided to bully him. He ignored the warning and walked towards Sandor shouting about his face.  The knight was so drunk out of his mind that he didn't notice Sandor had a knife in his hand. The people in the tavern screamed while others stared in horror as Sandor rammed his knife at the knight's face repeatedly. 

Sandor was on him, pinning him to the ground with his weight. He noticed the blood and chunks of brain had stained the white cloak the knight wore.  Sandor scoffed at the sight of it. White cloak, a knight’s garment. The white signifies purity, virtue, and innocence. Knights are supposed to be good but all the knights around him were pieces of shit who used and abused their powers on the weak. 

Being a knight was a dream for him when he was small. That dream broke and disappeared when Gregor was knighted by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Sandor didn't understand it. 

“How can he be a knight?’ He asked himself. His brother is a monster, evil with legs and a face. 

The awful truth that Sandor learned was knights protecting the good and the unfortunate were all fake. In the real world it’s the strongest who survives, the strong prey on the weak to live. You need to kill to survive. 

Sandor stopped when the knight's head was completely smashed. He wiped his knife on the knight’s cloak and rose up from the ground. He ignored the people around and sat back down to finish his cup of ale. 

He learned that day he was pretty good at killing and he liked it. 

When he became Joffrey’s guard, he started drinking more. Since he was paid well, he drank wine. Wine made him feel good and yearn for a woman's touch. He would spend his nights at a whore house where some rejects from little finger’s establishment stayed. He drank until he couldn’t feel the tip of his fingers anymore. He drank until he couldn’t see the woman’s face and paid for her time. He kept it simple and quick. Bend them over then have them bring him a pitcher of wine when he finished. 

He would wake up the next day with a slight headache and cotton mouth but he slept the entire night without any nightmares. His eyes would open and stare up at the multicolor fabrics hanging from the ceiling of the establishment.  

Sandor never told you but when he first talked to you when you arrived at King's Landing that night he drank and he dreamt for the first time in a long time. He dreamt of you and your sweet smile that you had given him when you saw him. The dream became a nightmare when Gregor appeared behind you. Gregor was going to kill you and Sandor without a thought grabbed his sword. 

He shot up in a sitting position when he sliced Gregor’s throat wide open in his dream. It was the first time in his life he had dreamt or even thought of killing Gregor. Sandor was now bigger and stronger. He had more experience in fighting now. He knew if he tried his hardest he might be able to win against his brother.  The only thing that was lingering on his mind was, when will it be his chance to get his revenge on Gregor. 

Sandor found out that he might be able to defeat his brother when he protected Loras Tyrell from him during the Hand's tournament. A rush of energy came at him when he saw Loras on the ground, his brother was about to strike the younger man. 

He did hold his brother off and King Robert commanded them to stop. Sandor was the only one who obeyed and kneel, showing his loyalty to the King. Loras thanked him graciously as Sandor stood up. He raised Sandor’s arm up declaring him as the winner.  He saw you quickly rise from your seat beside your father and clapped for him. You cheered his name loudly, not caring who was looking at you. The crowd followed and cheered for him as well, making him tense up since these were the same people who ridiculed and despised him are now cheering for him. 

He made a decision as he walked up the steps to take his place behind Joffrey. He was going to kill his brother and get revenge. 

Sandor started to gain consciousness and he thought he was back in the whorehouse. He will wake up like always and see the multicolor fabrics hanging above him. Sandor opened his eyes and stared up and saw a wooden ceiling. He let out a hiss when he tried to get up, he couldn't do it. He looked at his surroundings for a moment. He realized he was inside of a wooden shack. Everything came rushing back in his mind at once. He fell off a cliff and you were crying over him as you tried to pick him up. 

Y/n. He thought to himself. He let out a grunted as he tried to get up again but it was no use. 

“You’re up.” Sandor's eyes widened at the sound of a man’s voice. He tried to sit up on the bed to see who it was but fell back down on the makeshift bed. An older man with a beard walked inside the shack with a small bowl and a cup. 

“Y/n?!” Sandor called out in a raspy voice. 

He looked down at himself to see his clothes were gone. He wore a brown tunic shirt. He was bare from the waist down under thick blankets. 

“Wow! Relax.” The man said putting the bowl and cup on the small table near the makeshift bed when he saw Sandor trying to get up again. 

“Where is Y/n?!” Sandor shouted as the men sat down on the bed with his hands in front of him showing Sandor he meant no harm. 

“She’s eating supper now. She’s done with work.” The men helped Sandor sit up as he spoke.  

“What?” Sandor said not understanding as he leaned against the wall.

“You should eat too.” The men said, grabbing the bowl. 

“She will be happy that you’re awake. Poor thing was starving and tired. Told her I’ll feed you today.” Sandor watched as the man took the spoon from the table, he was about to feed it to him like he was a baby. 

“I can fucking do it.” Sandor said, grabbing the bowl from the man’s hand.  The man laughed while Sandor gave him a glare. 

“She said you were a mean one.” Sandor quietly moaned as he drank the warm soup straight from the bowl. He was starving. 

“Who are you? What’s this place?” Sandor asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“I’m Ray. Some people call me brother Ray. We are here building a sept in the hills. We found Y/n in the mountains. Poor thing was crying and asked us for help. She offered to work in exchange.” Ray said with a smile as he looked around the small shack. Sandor frowned. 

“What is she doing? What kind of work?” Sandor asked. Millions of thoughts were running inside of his head. Sandor didn’t believe Ray. He knew men like him. Sandor has always been good at reading people. Ray seemed to catch on what Sandor was implying and  frowned. 

Ray shook his head. “No! We really are building a sept. At first she would cook and clean. Clean clothes of the people here but some people thought it wasn’t fair because food and shelter was being given to you.” 

“Y/n is something. She yelled at men twice her age and said she will work with them, cutting trees down just to shut their mouths.” 

Ray rose up then made his way to the table filled with bowls and candles. Sandor watched as Ray started to mix some powder and made a paste. Sandor continued to finish his soup as Ray kept talking. 

“Never seen a girl her size cut down wood before. I think she has been through a lot, she hasn’t said much about herself. Every time she’s chopping wood she said she imagines it’s the face of the people who hurt her.” 

Sandor was lost for words. You haven’t left him. You kept your word and stood by him. You worked for him. Sandor felt his heart was about to burst as Ray kept talking about you. 

“You gave us all a fright.” Ray said as he lifted the blanket up to Sandor’s knee.  Sandor saw his leg was straightened out. He can see the nasty large scar across his knee. His knee bone was pushed back in and he was stitched up. The stitches looked red and angry but Sandor was happy about that. It means the wound is fresh and healing. Sandor held his breath for a moment when he tried to move his toes. Ray let out a chuckle when he moved them.

“Scared the fuck out of Y/n when you started to move them in your sleep.” 

“You were in and out of death so many times. Never seen a woman pray so much like Y/n did by your bedside.” Ray said as he carefully spread some of the paste on Sandor’s knee. Sandor tried to keep a moan of relief when he felt the cool paste on his stitches. 

Ray wrapped some cloth around his knee and covered him back up with the blanket. 

“I’m glad you’re up.” Sandor watched as Ray grabbed the empty bowl from his hands and started to walk out of the shack. He looked over his shoulder at Sandor and told him he will tell you that he's up. 

Sandor was left alone and he stared at his hands on his lap trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s alive thanks to you. He looked up at the sound of someone running. He froze when he saw you by the door. You stared at him with wide eyes and a big smile. You looked different. You wore dark trousers with a beige tunic instead of your usual dress. You looked slimmer, and you looked like you had been out in the sun for too long.

“Sandor.” You cried as you walked inside and sat on the bed close to him. Sandor didn’t say anything when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and hugged him. 

“I’m so happy you’re up.” You said looking at him, cupping his face with your hands. Sandor tried not to cry, he really did but you were there in front of him, alive and he was alive too. 

“It’s okay, my love.” You whispered as you kissed his cheeks. You caressed his burned cheek while he looked at you. 

“Thank you.” He softly said.

 “Thank you.” He repeated as tears ran down his cheeks.

He kissed you gently and laid his forehead against yours. You pulled away when you heard him let out a sharp breath, he bore a grimace look on his face. 

“Are you in pain? Ray said he put the paste on your leg. I’ll give you some milk of the poppy.” You said leaning forward to the table, grabbing a small vessel and the cup Ray had bought.  

“Where did you get that?” Sandor asked as he watched you put a few drops in his cup. Medicine is not cheap.

“Ray took me to a town a few miles away. I have been chopping wood and selling them there. I got enough money for medicine.” He was about to take the cup from your hands when he froze at the sight of them. 

He grabbed one of them when he noticed the bandage wrapped around your palm. Your hands were different as well. Not the hands of a lady anymore. Your hands were rough and you had dirt underneath your fingernails. 

“It’s just a cut. It’s healing.” You told Sandor as you gave him the cup and removed your hand from his grasp. 

“Let me see.” You shook your head. 

“Drink first. Please.” Sandor didn’t say anything. 

“Please. I’m alright.” You said pushing the cup towards his mouth. Sandor didn’t want to anger you so he did what you told him. He was ashamed that you had to work to take care of him.  

You told him about Ray and the group as you helped him lay back down. You told him how Stranger was outside as well. You didn’t have the heart to sell the horse and his sword, you thought if Sandor died then Stranger and the weapon would be a reminder of him. However you did have to sell his armor for a maester to come all the way up the hills to check up on him.  

Sandor was drifting into sleep from milk of the poppy when he noticed he took almost the entire makeshift bed. He wanted to ask where you slept. He was going to ask when you started to hum softly to him. He felt your hands on his head, you brushed his hair with your fingers as you continued to hum. 

Sandor got his answer in the middle of the night when he woke himself up from a cough. He opened his eyes slowly, still feeling the effects of milk of the poppy. He saw a small candle on the table near him burning. He looked around as best he could. He stopped when he saw you on the ground sleeping. He wanted to get up to get you in bed with him but he winced at the pain in his knee. You were in the corner with a pillow under your head and a blanket over you. Sandor can see you were holding one of his knives in your hand while you slept. 

He tried to call your name out, trying to fight back the sleep but he lost and shut his eyes. Days passed and Sandor got better and stronger. He was in a foul mood every time you left for work and came back. You spoke to him telling him you did this for him because you love him. 

“I know you would have done the same for me if I was the one in that bed.” You told him. Sandor nodded as he agreed with you. 

Sandor tried to have you sleep in the makeshift bed with him. He had shouted until you laid with him every night. As soon as you heard him snoring, you carefully got off. You didn’t want to tell Sandor the real reason why you chose to sleep on the ground. Some nights you would sit on the ground by him and stare at the entrance of the shack. 

Days turned into weeks and Sandor was finally able to walk with the help of Ray and a teenager boy named James who wasn’t afraid of him.

Sandor already had a reputation among the group and they weren’t to kin at the idea of the tall man with half of a burned face around them. Sandor walked a few steps before sitting back down. Ray told him it was normal and to have him walk more to get the strength of his legs back up again. 

Sandor was up and walking in no time. The sept you were helping build was done. Sandor and you went with Ray along with his group to another place to do the same. Since the group changed location it wasn’t too far from the shack. Each morning, Sandor and you rode Stranger to work then back again in the afternoon to the shack to rest. 

You ignore the talk and the stares people did whenever they saw Sandor and you. Sandor impressed many when he was able to carry a log by himself, a log that took at least five people to carry. Sandor began to chop wood and he made you get a job that didn’t require so much manual labor. You didn't want to at first, since you got used to the work but Sandor pleaded with you. You started to help the other woman with the cooking and the cleaning. 

You ignored the snickering you heard behind your back from the women who talked about you being with Sandor. Some were afraid of him, while others were repulsed by his face and some were jealous of you for having a man like Sandor. Tall and strong is what you heard from them and for the first time it made you feel jealous. 

Sandor and you have been traveling alone for so long that there weren't other people to make you feel that way. You knew Sandor wasn't like that, talking to other women or even looking at them. Even on the road and going inside of a tavern he never once looked at women. 

 The woman in the group wore dresses while you wore trousers and a shirt that Ray had given you. Your hair that was once brushed and braided is now tangled and greasy from being out in the sun and working. Insecurity and jealousy seeped into your body. 

You were unaware that Sandor heard how the men spoke about you. Just like you, Sandor knew the rules not to fight and not to steal from each other. Sandor didn’t want to be the reason to be kicked out of this place. It was good, no one knew who both of you were, both of you had somewhere to stay and had food. 

Sandor was surprised when Ray came around the corner and spoke out when he heard one of the men start to speak about you. “Perhaps if you pray hard enough to the gods, they will bless you with a lass like her. Hardworking and pretty.” 

Ray looked over to Sandor who walked away to get another log. 

“Y/n didn’t tell me what happened to you.” Sandor heard Ray behind him following him deeper into the woods to his chopping area. 

“It was a fight.” Sandor replied. 

“Wow, I don’t want to see what the other guy looks like.” 

Sandor shook his head. “It was a woman. A tall, big fucking woman.” 

Ray chuckled. “She wanted to take Y/n away from me.” 

“Well, I’m glad she didn’t.” Ray walked closer to Sandor. “Me too.” Sandor said as he sat on a log stretching his leg. 

“Many people say you came back from the dead. Some said it was fairies that healed you.” Sandor scoffs at the idea of little fairies over him. 

“I know Y/n helped but it was up to you to survive. What made you survive? I didn’t have the heart to tell Y/n that you were done for. No man can come out of the state you were in.” Ray said. 

Sandor thought about it for a minute, why was he still alive? Perhaps it was for you, to keep you safe. Before you, he was alive to have his revenge on his brother. “Hate or maybe I’m just a hard fucker to kill.” 

Ray shook his head not believing him. “No, there's a reason. Gods aren’t done with you yet.” 

“Heard that one before.” Sandor said as he remembered Beric telling him that the gods wanted him alive before leaving with you after his win. Sandor didn’t believe it at all. 

“Why would the gods want me alive? I have done hateful shit before. You don’t know the things I have done.” 

“If you are what you say then why is she with you?” Ray said, looking behind Sandor. 

Sandor followed his gaze to see you walking towards them along with two bowls in your hands. “I believe you're alive for a reason.” Ray said, patting Sandor on the shoulder then left. 

Ray greeted you as you walked past him. 

“Hey.” You told Sandor as you passed him a bowl with rice and meat. 

“Thanks.” Sandor said while you took a small leather wineskin off your shoulder. 

“Your favorite, water.” You told him before giving it to him. Sandor snorted a chuckle, he was telling you this morning how he would chop every fucking tree in the forest for some ale. 

You used your fingers to grab the meat and rice as Sandor took a drink of water. It’s been a while since he had ale or wine. He was alright without it just as long he was with you, he thought to himself. He closed the wineskin and looked down at the bowl. He was still thinking about those men talking about you. It wasn’t the first time he heard men speaking about you. In King’s Landing, he saw how men looked at you. He heard what the knights and lords said about you. The Lords were all over your father asking for your hand but your father kept telling them how you were already promised to another. He never found out who it was though and he didn't want to think of it. Another man with you, another man touching you and looking at you.  He was able to give one look at the knights and scare them off but he didn’t know what to do about the men here. 

He didn’t want to cause a problem. He didn’t want both of you to get kicked out. Ray seemed nice enough. Ray never looked at you like you were a piece of meat. 

Sandor trusted Ray with you, he knew why Ray helped you heal him. It was after a tale Ray told to the group one afternoon. Ray had told the group that he had gotten into a fight when he was still in his misfit ways with a couple of smugglers. At the end, the smugglers sought out where he lived and killed his daughter because he wasn't there.

“ I can not bring back my daughter. I regret that fight so much but I know I can make a difference now. I can bring back a bit of good into this world.”  

His story was cut short when three men rode into their camp looking for trouble. Sandor had gently pushed you behind him when the men started to stare at the woman of the group. He knew who they were, they were from the brotherhood and followed the Red God. They didn't recognize him, Sandor had longer hair that touched his shoulders and was much lighter in color. The beard that he kept short was now fuller.  You hid behind Sandor, your forehead was pressed against his back as you listened to the men asking Ray if they had any gold or weapons. You gripped the back of his shirt when the leader of the men told Ray to be careful because the night is dark and full of terror. 

Sandor didn't sleep that night, he stayed up with his sword in his hand in case they came. Ray told him that he wouldn't fight them because violence is a disease. He kept looking at the entrance of the shack. Sandor knew Ray was right about violence being a disease but it was the only way to make sure you were safe. 

Ray helped you because you remind him of his daughter. Ray couldn't do anything to help his daughter but he was going to make sure to help you and he did. Sandor was alive, breathing and walking again.  

Sandor swore to himself that he was going to do the same as you did for him. You helped him, you saved him from death. He wasn't going to let anything or anyone hurt you. You showed how much he means to you. You showed him everyday how much you loved him. 

“I love you.” He mumbled without a thought. His eyes widened at his confession, he quickly turned away from you. 

“What?” You asked when you heard Sandor mumble something. You were too busy eating to hear what he said. 

Sandor shook his head and kept eating, avoiding your gaze.

“I want you to tell me if anyone is bothering you. Alright?” Sandor finally spoke after a few minutes. You looked over at him with a strange look. Did he find out?

“What are you talking about?” You asked softly, trying not to panic. 

“I heard some of the men talking about you.” Sandor said, looking over you as you wiped one of your hands on your pants. You let out a small sigh of relief. 

“I don’t know if I’ll need you to save me. I’m pretty good with an ax.” You said, giving him a smile. He didn't need to know, you thought to yourself. It was over, he’s safe. He is alive, that's what matters. 

Sandor grinned at you. You were good that he had to admit, he had seen you chopping wood. At one point he had to leave when he got a hard on from just watching you. He got aroused by the look on your flushed face, the sweat dripping down your forehead and neck. He liked it, it reminded him whenever you rode him. Your body would be covered in sweat as you moved your hips, your breasts bouncing. Your sweaty face reminded him of the time he pounded you from behind. Your pretty face looked at him over your shoulder mewling with each thrust. 

“The women talk about you too. You know?” You said as you brought a piece of meat to your mouth. Sandor shook his head at you as he ate. 

“He’s the tallest man I've ever seen in my life. He’s so strong.” You said mimicking in a high pitch voice making him chuckle.  

“Pretty soon I'll have to swing my ax to keep them away from you.” Sandor chuckled looking at you. He stopped when he noticed you looked a bit annoyed. This was new for Sandor, he had never seen this side of you before. You’re jealous and he didn't like seeing you like this. He didn't know what to do to make you stop feeling this. Sandor wasn't good with emotions, he knew that. You were the first person to ever make him feel something that wasn't hate. He was nervous about what to say, last time the words came out of his mouth without a thought. Those words back in the barn, he regretted because of the face you made when he mentioned your family.

In his mind he wanted to say, stop being stupid. I don't want those broads. 

“There's only you, Y/n. I only want you.” The words that came out of his mouth washed away the insecurity and jealousy you felt. You looked at Sandor and saw he was being sincere, you looked away licking your lips. 

“Y/n. Look at me.” Sandor spoke, you looked over at him. He had gotten closer to you. 

“I only want you. You’re all I want.” 

You bite your bottom lip as Sandor kisses your cheek. It’s been so long since you felt him, since you felt his touch. You wanted him so bad but you knew he had to heal. You didn’t want to hurt his knee but your fingers weren't the same as his, your cunt was used to his rough and large fingers. Your body craved his touch and cock. You yearned for him. It’s been months without him. 

You felt Sandor kiss the corner of your lips. You dropped your bowl to the ground to kiss him on the lips. 

Sandor dropped his bowl as well to grab you, he wanted to be closer to you. He wanted to feel you. “Are you sure?” He heard you asked him as you kissed his neck. 

“Aye.” He said standing up from the log, pulling you up to follow him further into the forest. He didn't want anyone seeing you.

“You?” He asked. You nodded, “Yes please” He grins at your response. 

He found a large enough tree to keep both of you hidden behind.  He pushed you gently against the tree as he leaned down to kiss you on the lips. His hands grabbed your ass, squeezing it over your trousers. You let out a moan as he nipped your neck.

“Sandor.” You cry his name. His large fingers made their way to the rope tied around your trousers to keep them from falling down. He untied it and pulled your trousers off along with your boots. 

He let out a moan when he came close to your mound, he kissed it. Enjoying the scent of your musk. He was about to eat you out when you begged for his cock. 

Sandor felt himself grow hard at your words. You told him how much you missed his cock, and you missed how he fucked you. He quickly pulls his own trousers down, jerking himself a bit. 

Sandor manhandled you and picked you up roughly. Your back was against the tree, legs wrapped around his waist. Your fingers digging into his shoulder as he slipped himself inside of you. He groans as he feels your cunt on him. You were so tight, it’s been so long since he felt you. He was shocked how wet you were. You were wet just by kissing him. 

He held you tight as he thrust inside of you. He held your ass in one hand while his hands held onto the tree. 

“F-F-uc-k.” You cried into his neck as he fucked you. You heard Sandor grunting as he thrust into you hard and rough. 

“You’re mine.” Sandor moaned into your ear. “You hear me?”

“Mine.” Sandor said as he felt you clench around his cock by his words. He hated hearing the other men talk about you. Didn’t they know that you were with him, that he’s yours and you’re his. 

“You like that? Knowing you’re mine. You’re fucking mine.” Sandor grunted as he felt you cum around his cock. 

“Yes.” You moan as he kept fucking through your orgasm. You held him tight as he reached for his climax. He let out harsh grunts against your neck as he fucked your cunt. Thrusting in and out rapidly, the sound of your ass hitting against his thighs can be heard. 

“You little minx.” Sandor tells you as he feels your wetness dripping down his balls. Letting out a whine when you felt your clit against his stomach. The feeling of his happy trail rubbing against your throbbing clit made you lightheaded. You were about to cum for a second time. 

“Say your mine.” Sandor cries out about to cum. 

“I’m yours. I’m your woman.” You tell him out of breath. 

“Only yours.” 

You kissed him harshly and sloppy. Your tongue slipped in his mouth as you moaned. Sandor bit your bottom lip when he felt you cum again on his cock. He grunts as he pushes you completely against the tree. His hand leaves your ass to hold both of your legs open as he cums deep inside of you. 

You ignored the pain of the tree bark digging your back as you felt Sandor cumming inside of you. You felt him thrust softly making you whine while he grunted. 

“Fuck, Y/n.” Sandor says as he holds you. He moans as he kisses your neck. He held you against the tree for a moment. He held you, enjoying your warmth and scent. He had to stop to admire you. Your eyes were bright and your lips turned upwards in a smile. 

He wanted to remember you like this. He wanted to say those three words again so you could hear him but fear filled him. What if he said it and he would wake up in that place again. He didn't want to wake up to see the multicolor fabrics on the ceiling.

He winces as he pulls out from you softly so he doesn’t hurt you. He brings you down to your feet. You lean against the tree, your cunt throbbing and legs wobbly. Sandor quickly pulls his pants up. He grabs his handkerchief from his back pocket to kneel down in front of you. 

He looks up at you as he wipes his cum dripping out of you, he’s so tender as he wipes.  Grabbing your discarded pants, he helps you to put them back on.

“Thank you.” You said as you sat down on the ground to put on your boots.  He waits for you as he catches  his breath while leaning against the tree. He looked around for a moment, he hoped no one saw. He knew he was going to kill someone if they mention seeing him with you fucking. 

“I missed you.” Sandor heard you say as you got up and walked in front of him. 

“Me too.” He said as you leaned against him, hugging him. You laid your head on his chest, he wrapped his arms around you placing his chin on top of your head. Sandor had come to be comfortable doing this with you, hugging you. 

He wanted to tell you that you were the first person to ever hug him. He thought what his brother would say if he saw him hugging right now. Gregor, without a doubt would’ve punched him in the face and called him a pussy.

After some time both of you walked back to retrieve the bowls then back to the main camp. You talked to Sandor about what the people from the group wanted to build next. 

Sandor nodded when you mentioned their plans, walking back to the main camp to bring the bowls back. You froze when you saw the body of a woman a few feet away from you laying on the ground. You looked over at Sandor who began to look around for anyone else when an arrow was sticking out of her chest. 

You quickly began to sprint further into the camp and cried out when you saw the group was dead, all of them. Their throats had been split open, others had an arrow in their chest or in their head. 

“Sandor!” He heard you cry out as he walked towards you.  You were kneeling over James. The teenager had an arrow in his chest. He was gurling blood out of his mouth as he tried to speak. “They came back.” You looked up at Sandor who’s eyes darkened at his words. 

“The men on the horses?” You asked as you held the boy's hand. 

“Y-y-ye.” James tried to speak but his eyes closed. You looked up at Sandor and your face fell at the thought of Ray. He was the one who spoke to them. 

“Ray.” You shouted looking around. Sandor quickly walked further to find Ray as well. You got up to follow him, you looked ahead to see Sandor standing still in front of the unbuilt sept. 

Sandor heard you behind and turned around. “Don’t look.” He told you but you didn’t listen. 

You cried as you saw Ray hanging from the half build sept. Sandor continued to stare at Ray. He didn’t deserve to die. He looked away from the body and kept looking around in case the bastards were still around. He had to keep you safe. 

“We have to go.” Sandor told you as he grabbed your arm. Sandor needed to take you back to the shack, he will stand guard all night again. 

“Aren't we going to find them?” You asked him, making him stop in mid step. 

“What?” Sandor asked. 

“I want them dead for killing Ray.” You told Sandor as your face grew angry with furrowed brows. 

You wanted revenge. Sandor nodded, he wanted the same thing. Ray did not deserve it, not after everything he did for you and him. 

“Let’s get our stuff first.” He told you. 

Packing as fast as you can while Sandor got Stranger ready to ride, making sure his sword along with his ax was strapped on the horse. You wiped your tears quickly and walked out of the shack. You handed Sandor another pack. Sandor was about to help you saddle when you did it all by yourself. He sometimes forgets that you have changed. You weren’t the same lady that he left King’s Landing with. He noticed a knife strapped by your belt. 

Sandor rode behind you on Stranger who let out a neigh as it began to walk out of camp. Sandor knew they couldn’t be far. The wounds on the people were still fresh. It was 20 minutes later when both of you heard people talking. 

“Is it them?” You asked Sandor as he got off the horse first a few feet away from. Sandor grabbed his sword. 

“Stay on the horse until we know for sure.” Sandor told you before walking towards them. 

“Oh shit.” You heard from the other members of Brotherhood without Banners. You looked around to see them staring at you and Sandor. 

“Clegane. What the fuck you doing here?” Thoros said, looking at him then at you. 

“My lady.” You didn’t respond to him. 

“Chasing the men who killed the group that was building the sept. We were helping build it. They killed a friend of ours.” Sandor told him. 

“You have friends, Clegane?” Thoros asked, surprised. 

“Not anymore.” Sandor snapped back. 

“No need to chase.” Beric said then looked back at the three men about to be hanged in front of them. 

“They did it. We are going to hang them.” Beric said. You grabbed the reins on Stranger, signaling the horse to walk forward. 

“I’m surprised you’re still with Clegane, My lady.” Beric said as you got off Stranger and walked towards them ignoring Beric. 

“Who killed him?” You asked the three men. 

“Who the fuck killed the man in charge?” You yelled. The left one shouted it was the one in the middle. 

“You fucker!!” The middle man shouted as he looked nervously at you and Sandor. 

“I want him.” You told Beric who looked shocked. 

“Give me this one.” Sandor said, pointing the one to the right since the man was eyeing you. 

“My lady.” Beric spoke but you cut him off. “I want him. I’ll slit his fucking throat.” You grabbed your knife from your belt and Sandor was about to swing his sword.  

“Whoa! Whoa!” Thoros said to both you and Sandor, stopping both of you.

“It’s the brotherhood's good name-“ Beric said standing in front of Sandor.  

“Fuck your name. They are ours to kill. I have killed you once before. I’ll be happy to do it again.” Sandor cut him off quickly and got close to him, staring him down. 

“These are our men. We will kill them. Lady Stark, this isn’t you.” You frowned at Thoros. 

“These men killed our friend. Ray helped us, feed us and cloth us. These fuckers came and killed him.” You hissed looking back at the middle man who looked like he was about to shit on himself. 

“Alright, we will give you two out of respect for your friend.” You looked over Sandor who gave you a nod. 

Sandor raised his sword but was stopped by Beric who told him not to chop off a body part. Only hanging. You continued to stare at the man as Sandor cursed them out about being weak and how he would have killed everyone just to kill the three how he sees fit. 

You sighed as you pushed the barrel softly so it could be longer for him to die. Sandor did the same, you heard Beric and Sandor talking behind you while the three men hanged to their death. All you did was watch them. Their faces turned red while their legs swung around. Sandor looked over at you when you didn’t move or even flinched when the legs of the middle guy got close to you. 

What made you change? He thought. This had to be the first person you killed, right? 

“Y/n?” You turned around at Sandor, he gave you a look. 

“You alright?” He asked. You nodded.

He watched as you walked back to Stranger, the nod you gave him made him feel unease. He looked back at the middle and started to rip his boots off along with his belt so he could have his sword strap to his hip. He knew both of you would need better supplies for traveling up north. Both of you decided to continue the journey again to see Jon. He took the cape from the man next to him as well. Winter is coming and both of you have to be prepared for the cold. 

Beric was kind enough to spare some food for you and Sandor. You kept to yourself as Beric and Thoros spoke to Sandor about the gods bringing them back together for a reason. Thoros looked over you and passed his pouch full of rum towards you. You thanked him with a nod and took a drink. 

“What about you?” Beric said, looking over at you. His eyes watched you carefully then at Sandor. He was a bit worried that you had been this long with the hound. He noticed you looked different as well. 

“What about me?” You asked, passing the pouch back to Thoros. 

“You’re alive. Most highborn ladies aren’t cut out living like this.” You sighed at his words. 

Sandor looked at you as you stared at the fire when you didn’t reply back to Beric. His words cut deep into you, you knew if it wasn’t for Sandor you would have died or worse kidnapped and raped. You would have been at the end of the cliffs sitting next to Sandor’s corpse if it wasn’t for Ray. 

You shut your eyes as you kept seeing Ray swaying back and forth from the half built sept. You missed him. He was the only one who talked to you when Sandor was still sleeping. He stood by your side whenever you tended Sandor’s wound. He stood up for you when the group threatened to kick you for not contributing more when Sandor was still injured. 

You felt so hopeless because you always needed someone to come to your rescue. You wished you could have protected Sandor from Brienne, you wished you could have saved Ray from being hung. You wished you were able to save your brothers, your mother and father. You were so weak and you hated yourself for it. 

The only time you felt strong was that night Ray found you in the shack. Sandor was quick to place a hand on your back when you broke down in tears in front of them. Beric and Thoros stood quiet as you wept. 

“I’m sorry. I miss Ray.” You told them as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand. 

“I would have been dead a long time ago if it wasn’t for him and Sandor.” Beric nodded, giving you a sympathetic look.

“The gods have a plan for you as well. Think about it, you have come so far even with the help of them.” Beric said as he looked over at your shoulder when he noticed a few men from their group noticing you crying. They began to stare at you as they talked among themselves. 

Sandor followed his gaze to the group a few feet away from them. Sandor moved closer to you. His legs practically pushed against yours. He was ready to kill any fucker that would come close to you. 

“Why don’t you join us? Both of you. We need your help. Something is coming this way. We are part of something larger. We need good people to help us.” 

Beric watched as Sandor passed a piece of jerky to you when you finally calmed down.  Thoros and Beric shared a look. Sandor Celgane, the hound is being nice. 

“I need to go to Jon.” You told them. 

“Jon Snow, he’s Lord Commander of the night watch.” Beric said, making you smile at your brother's accomplishment. 

“He’s the only family I have left. We were going to see him.” You didn’t know if your sisters were alive, Jon is your last resort. 

“We want to go beyond the walls. Let’s travel together since we are headed in the same direction.” He suggested. You let Sandor decide, you knew he would pick what was best. 

“Any of your men touch her. I’ll gut them alive.” Sandor said to Beric and Thoros.  

“I do the same if they do.” Thoros admits looking between Sandor and you. 

Riding alone was something you had to get used to quickly, they had extra horses since the hanging. You missed the heat Sandor gave when he rode behind you. You missed the conversations and being close to him. Sandor had told you that he would prefer to have you ride in front of him where he can see you. Beric rode beside you while Thoros rode next to Sandor. You couldn’t help but laugh as they bickered like children behind you. 

Sandor swore that Thoros’ top knot was a wig while Thoros gave Sandor the nickname grouchy old bear. Vulgar insults were thrown at each other.

“Beric?” You called out to the man as you both rode next to each other. 

“Yes, my lady.” He answered looking over at you. 

“Do you truly believe in the gods?” You question him as you try to ignore the bickering behind you. 

“I do. I have been dead 6 times and brought back.” 

“I want to tell you something.” Beric looked at you worried but nodded. 

“Sandor was hurt. Really bad and I  felt his heart stop beating many times but he always came back. There was a woman in the group who said she saw the children of the forest. Everyone thought she was crazy but I didn’t. My father believed they were real but went extinct a long time ago.” You said remember the girl and how her face lit up when telling you stories about them. You felt sad when you remembered seeing her on the ground with her throat slit open. She was the only kind person to you beside Ray. 

“She found me one day and said she spoke to them about Sandor. They gave her something. A flower, they told her to make a medicine out of it. A paste.” Beric watched as your eyes got teary. 

“I did it and Beric it worked. Sandor had his bone sticking out his knee. I thought the scar would have never healed but it did. If you see it, it’s just a line now. I’m telling you this because I don’t know what to believe anymore. If the gods were real, why was my father, a good man, beheaded? Why was my mother and brothers murdered but I was spared?” 

“The gods almost took Sandor away from me. They would have if it wasn’t for the children of the forest.” You said. 

Beric was quiet for a second before speaking. “Y/n, it’s alright to feel conflicted about believing in the gods or something else. It’s what makes humans. Who knows why the children of the forest helped or why you were spared. I ask myself the same question everyday, every hour. Why me? Why am I alive? I’ll tell you something, I knew we were going to cross paths again, Clegane and you.” Your eyes widen by his words. 

“I saw it in the flames. Us riding together going up north.” 

“When I tell you, my lady. That we are part of something I was not bullshitting, maybe it’s the new god, old gods, every fucking god there is and the children of the forest working as one. Now that we are together, we need to find out why. ” 

“You know, Ned talked about you a lot.” He spoke after a brief moment of silence.

“He loved you dearly. He always said that the new and old gods bless him with a child like you. The men and I didn’t think anything of it at first. We just thought it was because you were his first daughter but seeing you now alive after everything. I believe him now.” Beric told you, your heart grew heavy at the thought of your father. 

“You girls done gossiping? Let’s set up camp?” Thoros shouted from behind. 

Sandor and you sat together away from the group for some privacy. Sandor rubbed his hands together as he stared at the small fire a few feet away from him. He wanted to ask you something that's been on his mind for a while now.  That night he saw you sleeping on the ground with a knife in your hand. He wanted to know what made you change while he was asleep. 

“I can hear you thinking.” He looked over you, seeing you smiling at him as you stretched your legs. You were sitting on a log next to him.  

“What’s wrong?” You asked, grabbing his hand that was on his knee. 

“Have you killed anyone else?” He asked you, making you pause. 

You wanted to lie and say no. You didn’t want to cause any problems but you knew Sandor would just know you were lying. You didn’t want to get him angry. 

You nodded, “Aye, I have.” 

Sandor turned to you with a look that made you remove your hand from his. You grew worried. 

“You were still asleep and some man from the group thought he could have his way with me. He came one night.” Sandor frowned and started to breathe heavily. 

“He tried to kill you first and I knew right then and there. If I didn't kill him right away we both would have been dead.” 

“I remembered what you told me, aim for the heart. I grabbed a knife where I kept your sword and rammed it into his chest. I didn’t stop until I heard Ray calling out for me.” 

“Your hand?” Sandor asked, grabbing your hand to see the healed scar on the palm of hand. 

“He tried to kill you. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I grabbed his knife and pushed him.”  Sandor traced the scar with his thumb. 

“You changed, little wolf. I’m sorry. I wasn’t there to help.” 

“Without your teaching, I would have been raped or dead.” You told Sandor. 

Sandor was about to say something when you spoke something that was troubling you.

“I liked it. The killing. The look on his face, his blood, the scent of it. The power I felt and all I can see was Joffrey, Ceresi, the Freys, and fucking everyone who betrayed or hurted us.” 

“I thought of your brother as well for hurting you.” You told Sandor as you looked at him nervously. 

“I know you never told me but I know. Little finger told me. I’m sorry that happened to you.” 

“What else do you know?” Sandor asked, ignoring the apology. 

“Your fear with fire.” You said softly. “I've seen it.” 

Sandor nodded as he looked at you. He kinda already knew that you were aware about the story of his face but he didn’t know that you knew about his fear of fire. He tried to keep it hidden from you. 

“The night of the battle of Blackwater. Everything was on fire and all I thought about was you. I was so scared that the fires would get to you in the castle.” 

“You still want me?” Sandor asked nervously. 

“What?!” You asked.. 

“Do you still want to be with a man who's afraid of fire?” 

“Of course, I do.” You told him, going between his legs, kneeling in front of him. 

“What about you, do you still want me? I don’t look like a lady anymore or act like one now.” Sandor grinned as he shook your head at your nonsense question. 

“Your lady is a murder now?” You added. 

“You aren’t! You protected yourself. It’s defense.” Sandor told you tugging you closer to him. 

“I’m proud of you.” Sandor said with a nod. Sandor wasn’t a man of many words but he really was proud of you. 

“So do I get a reward for keeping my man safe?” You asked as you pulled Sandor down to face you. You kissed scarred cheek making him chuckle. 

Your man, Sandor, loves the sound of that.

“What do you want, little wolf?” He asked as your lips started to head towards his neck. He quickly looked at his surroundings making sure no one was looking. Most were already asleep or talking among themselves. He let out a soft whine when you pulled the collar of the tunic shirt down to kiss his chest, your fingers touching his soft chest hair. 

“What does my little wolf want?” Sandor asked again as he grabbed your chin making you look up at him. He stared down at you with hooded eyes, you let out a shy giggle under his gaze. 

“I want you.” You whispered to him. Sandor immediately leaned down to kiss you on the lips. 

Snow started to fall and the air started to get colder as the group made their way up north Each day you got more excited to get to Castle Rock. You longed to see Jon. You wanted to hug him and tell him about everything. You wanted to tell him about Sandor. You hoped Jon knew something about your sisters. You hoped Sansa was alive as well as Arya. You forgave her a long time ago for wishing your death. You couldn’t be mad at her. Sandor took her friend's life but you understood that he did because the King ordered him too. 

Death was something you thought a lot about even before Kings Landing. You were glad that your father told you about it when you were younger. He didn’t shield you from the world as your mother shielded Sansa. 

“It happens to everyone. We must not fear death. For death comes to everyone.” 

You told Sandor the exact same words that your father told you. It was after Joffrey showed you and Sansa your father‘s head on a spike. He found you on the balcony again later that day, Tears rolling down your face as you stared at your father and Sansa’s septon. The older woman was kind even when Sansa wasn’t. 

He immediately gave you a handkerchief as he stood by you. You grabbed it, giving him a nod of thank you. 

“You’re not afraid.” He said looking at you. You didn’t flinch like Sansa did when she first saw it.  You repeated your father’s words to Sandor. 

“Your father was a smart man.” You shook your head. 

“If he was smart, he wouldn’t have gotten himself killed.” You said looking at Sandor who looked shocked at your words. 

“He was up to something and he didn’t tell me. I don’t know why. I would have helped him. Now he’s fucking dead, leaving my sisters and I in this shit hole.” Sandor watched as you turned around to face the wall and played with his handkerchief in your hands.

“You aren’t like the little bird.” You chuckled at him and agreed. You were nothing like Sansa. She was mostly with your mother while you were closer to your father. 

“Unlike her I learned how the world works at a young age. I learned what my place would be the moment I bled for the first time. That was the moment I realized that the stories I read when I was a child about kind, merciful kings and honorable knights were really just fantasy.” 

Sandor listened attentively as you spoke. You were perhaps the only lady he ever met that spoke the truth and for some reason it made him feel sad. You weren’t a horrible person, you were kind to everyone, especially to him. You deserve the honorable knight and the kind and merciful king. He thought to himself. You’re tough and he liked it but sometimes it bit you right in the ass when it came with Joffrey. Sandor realizes at the moment near the bridge that he likes you and he will protect your sister and you from the monsters living in King’s Landing. 

You knew you should have told Sandor something was not right with you as the days passed. You noticed your moonblood hasn’t started for a while but you didn't think anything of it. Your mother has told you when a lady is under tremendous stress and hasn't been eating properly. Her moonblood would often not come. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you had a good meal or a good sleep. Sandor would give you his share but you always decline. You knew Sandor needed more than you. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger when both of you joined the group. He hunted for food  at dawn with a man who was good with a bow and arrow. He chopped up the woods for the fires every night and morning. Sandor had you stay with Beric and Thoros most of the time. 

You haven’t been able to sleep at night as much as you tried to snuggle with Sandor. Sleep wouldn’t come to you. You began to worry as cold chills ran through your body. 

“What’s wrong?” Sandor asked when he saw you haven’t eaten your ration yet. You had placed the bowl on the ground as you hunched over near the fire. You tugged the fur cape around you when your body started to shake. 

“I’m not hungry.” Beric overheard you and walked toward Sandor and you. 

“What do you mean? You haven’t eaten this morning and last night.” Sandor knelt down to get close to your face. 

“I don’t feel good.” You whispered as you felt the tears welled up in your eyes. You felt like shit, your body was aching. Your fingers and toes felt like they were going to fall off from the cold. 

Sandor stood up and looked over his shoulder to see Beric walking towards him. 

“She’s sick.” Sandor told him as Beric got closer. 

“Fuck, we past by the only town five days ago. It should be a week until we reach the wall.” Thoros came walking in listening to them. 

“I didn’t see a maester in the town we passed.” Thoros told them since he was the one gathering supplies for the group. Sandor let out a sigh, he didn’t see one either but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one for sure. 

Sandor came back to you, kneeling down in front of you again as Beric and Thoros stood a few feet behind him.

“Y/n.” Sandor said your name softly trying to catch your attention but you kept staring off into the distance. 

“We are a week away from the wall. The town we passed by was five days ago. We don’t know if there is a maester in that town for sure. Are you able to hold on for a week?” When you didn’t answer he grew nervous. He noticed you were dozing off. 

“What do you want to do?” He asked, cupping your face trying to get your attention. 

“I don’t feel so good.” You mumbled. Sandor felt his stomach drop when he touched your forehead, you had a fever. 

“I’ll go back to town and come back as fast as I can.” He said as he got up. His words snapped you right out of your disorientated trance. 

“Don’t leave me. Please.” You pleaded, grabbing his hand.  

“I’ll be fine. We keep moving forward.” Sandor looked over to Beric and Thoros. You took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes with the palm of your hand. You didn’t want to be away from him. 

“Try to eat something.” You shook your head. “For me.” Sandor pleaded. 

He grabbed your bowl of warm soup and he sat next to you. Sandor tilted the bowl in your mouth so you could drink straight from the bowl. You didn’t realize you had slept after he fed you. The men from the group watched as Sandor warmed you as you slept, rubbing your arms and back as you leaned against him. 

The second day you weren’t able to ride anymore. You were looking ahead when you felt lightheaded. You let go of the reins and fell off your horse onto the cold snowed ground. Last thing you heard before passing out was Sandor yelling your name. The group knew Sandor was at his last wits when you still hadn't woken up on the fourth day. Sandor wiped the sweat off your forehead and kept the fire burning near you. He rubbed your freezing hands with his warm ones.  They helped Sandor, carrying you up to get on top of Stranger, Sandor kept one arm around you so you wouldn’t fall off as they kept riding to the wall. 

The fifth day, the weather was horrible. The cold wind blew harshly and the horses were growing tired. Beric decided they should set camp when one of the men in the group announced he knew a small cottage ahead. Sandor kept quiet when the familiar cottage came to his view. 

Sandor wanted to keep going for your sake but another harsh wind blew and it made him shake. He had given his only fur to you but the fever was growing stronger. Sandor would be up until dawn wiping the sweat from your face. Every hour he would place his head on your chest to hear your heart making sure you were still alive. 

He would be anxious as he held you closer to the fire during breaks. His eyes would look away from the flames and stare down at you. He had to be close to the fire to warm your hands and feet. Beric noticed the look Sandor had whenever he was near the fire. He offered to hold you near the fire but Sandor would always tell him to fuck off. 

At night he hugged you from behind as he sat on the ground. His back against the tree while the small fire Thoros had made for him was near him. Sandor’s body shook behind you, his forehead pressed against the back of your head.  He didn’t want to look at the fire not while he was this close to it. 

He knew he had to get over his fear for you, every night he tried his best. He wasn’t going to let you freeze to death so he knew he had too. He tried his best to calm his shallow breathing. He shut his eyes and his mind tends to wander off that night in the tavern where you confessed your love to him. 

He didn’t understand why you were sick. Beric and Thoros threw around ideas about your illness. Something you ate, perhaps the water. Ideas were said but in the end they weren’t maesters, they didn't know much. Sandor held you tighter when they got near the cottage. He wondered if the farmer and daughter were still there. 

“Let’s stay for the night.” Beric said, the group agreed.  Thoros held the door open as Sandor carefully carried you inside. Beric grabbed the blankets from the packs to lay it on the only bed in the room for you.

The rest store the horses in the stable for the night, one by one they enter the small place. Thoros started a fire in the fireplace. He looked over at you in pity as you slept. He shut his eyes and recited a little prayer for you.

“The weather will set us back at least three days.” Beric said as Sandor took off his cape to drape it over you. He sat at the corner of the bed with a sigh. 

“I wonder where the farmer went.” Beric said loudly as he placed his pack on the table looking around at the place. 

Sandor kept quiet, ‘somewhere safe.’ He thought. At that moment, he looked over to you when you started to moan in pain as you moved around in the bed. Sandor was quick to get up and lean over you. He called your name out as he grabbed your hand but as soon as he did you stopped. Sandor took a deep breath as he tried not to get angry. He felt so useless that he couldn’t help you. 

“I can go to the wall now. I’ll take my horse and won’t stop until I bring a fucking maester back here.” Sandor said. He was about to take his cape when Beric shook his head. 

“You won’t make it, not in this weather. Be realistic.” Beric told him. Sandor grew mad at his words.

“Then what the fuck do I do?! She hasn't woken up in days. She hasn’t broken the fever. What do I do then? Why don’t you ask your fucking lord of light?” Sandor hissed at him. 

“You said we were part of something but she’s dying now.” Sandor cried out as he looked between Beric and Thoros. 

“It was probably just a fucking lie you told us. You knew since she’s a Stark that Snow would grant you access to pass through the wall. So you can do whatever the fuck your lord told you to do.” Sandor said.

Sandor didn’t notice but Beric flashed a look of anger. He wouldn’t have done that to Ned’s daughter, he respected him. He respected you. 

Thoros looked away from the fire then at Sandor. “Clegane.” He called out. 

“Come here. I want to show you something.” Thoros said when Sandor didn’t move Thoros told him, “Don't worry, the fire won’t bite.” 

Sandor rolled his eyes as he took a deep breath. If it wasn’t for you being sick he would have killed everyone in this room. He can imagine you trying to calm him down. 

“It’s my fucking luck. I ended up with a band of fire worshippers.” He said as he stood up and walked towards Thoros. 

“Almost seems like divine justice.” Beric spoke, making Sandor scoff as he stood a few feet away from the fire. 

“There’s no divine justice, you dumb cunt. If there were, then you would be dead and Y/n would be well.” 

“Look in the flames.” Thoros said  Sandor shook his head. 

“I don’t wanna look in the damn flames.” Sandor answered back. Thoros sighed. 

“You saw me bring him back from the dead after you killed him. Don’t you want to know what gave me the power?” 

“Well, I keep fucking asking and no one wants to tell me.” Sandor answered, looking at him and Beric. 

“We can’t tell you. Only the fire can tell you.” Thoros told him Sandor rolled his eyes as he walked closer towards the fireplace. 

“What do you see?” 

“Logs burning.” Sandor blatantly said. 

“Keep looking.” 

Sandor was thinking about pushing Thoros into the fire for a second but he relaxed and kept looking. He watched as the flames grew. Sandor felt the hair on the back of neck stand up when he saw an image of ice, a wall of ice, the wall that meets the sea. He held his breath when the images started to move.

“Ice, the wall that meets the sea. Thousands of dead people are marching past.” Beric rose up from his seat and walked toward him. 

Sandor flinched when the log broke and the fire got bigger. “There’s a wolf.” 

Beric and Thoros look at each other.  “A big fucking wolf on a mountain staring at me.” 

Thoros was about to speak when you started to cough. The men jumped at the sound of it. Sandor quickly walked over to you. 

“Y/n!” He calls your name out as Beric hands him a pouch of water. 

You felt Sandor’s warm hand on your face as he helped you pour some water in your mouth. You greedily drank the water. You opened your eyes to see Sandor staring down at you worried as he wiped your mouth with his thumb. 

“Sandor.” You say his name. “I’m here.” 

Sandor can see your chest heaving, you were moaning in pain as you laid back down. He grabbed your hands with his. 

“I saw my father.” You croak out. 

“And mother and Robb.” You cried to him. 

“I miss them so much.” You sob. Sandor bit his bottom lip hard to not cry with you. The sight of you sick and crying. He didn’t like it one bit. He felt so hopeless. 

“Tell Jon I love him.” Sandor heard you say. He shook his head and he squeezed your hands. 

“You’ll tell him yourself, you hear me. We are almost there.” Sandor tells you firmly. Sandor feels your hands shaking in his. He brings your hands to his mouth and blows into your hands trying to warm you up.

“I love you.” You whisper at him, Sandor freezes when your hands go limp in his grasp.  Sandor was quick to lay his head on your chest when your eyes closed. He can still hear your heart beating, it was slow. The group of men stayed silent as they heard soft sniffling from Sandor. They were smart enough not to say anything, for they knew Sandor would kill them for even speaking about you. Sandor laid with you on the bed keeping you warm, he couldn’t stop the silent tears rolling down his face. 

Beric was right, the storm caused them to delay for three days. Sandor walked those three days as Stranger pulled the wagon they found in the barn. You laid there with furs and capes given to you by the men of the group. They were 10 miles away when one of the wildlings found them. Sandor had told them who you were and they were quick to let the group in.

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Taglist: @abbiesxox @fruitymoonbeams-blog

[poisonsage808]

��� Need ♡

Sandor Clegane x GN! Reader

18+ only under the cut

request: sandor has had a very, very rough day and when he gets back and sees them there the first thing he's doing is stripping (consensually) because he has had the most stressful, awful day and he wants the reader and he wants them now.

warnings: gender neutral reader, breeding kink, marking, unprotected sex obvi

He hadn’t said a word when he came to his chambers and found you there, waiting for him like you sometimes did. Sandor began tugging at the latches on his armor but his fingers would slip and he would growl and tug harder. He was already frustrated of the day’s events. Like it was squeezing the air out of his lungs, he was equally as desperate to get the armor off as he was pissed.

Sandor sees you drawing nearer out of the corner of his eye but he can’t look at you just yet. Your hand comes fully into view, helping him remove piece by piece his ensemble of black and steel. He usually took such care of his armor, to see him dropping it on the floor was surprising. Less so when Sandor finally rids himself of the chain and bends down to capture your lips.

It’s rough and needy, a wordless action for your permission and when you wrap your arms around his neck he knows he has it.

Your back hits the bed but when you part from the kiss, he rolls you onto your stomach with ease. You smile into the sheets but don’t dare giggle, not this time. With just as much frustration as with his own armor, he tugs your clothes off barely enough to get access to what he wants- no, needs. You can feel that need against your thigh, his hard cock weeping onto your skin. It makes you bite your lip in anticipation.

Sandor likes the view of your ass, his massive hand palming one cheek and squeezing as he lines himself up with your entrance. He moves slowly at first, giving you time to adjust. He’d sooner jump into a burning pyre than hurt you, accidentally or otherwise, especially when being intimate. Especially days like this where he’s so frustrated he can’t focus, can’t do anything but breathe until he finds safety inside of you.

Sandor’s so lucky to have you and silently he’s praising and thanking you, sinking into your warmth until he bottoms out.

You’re intoxicating.

“Better than wine,” He growls, finally speaking,

The words hardly ever come out right but that’s fine.

Your lips part to draw in a gasp, exhaling with a delectable moan that makes Sandor shudder. He loves those sounds, he intends to hear a lot more before he’s through. The behemoth of a man is more than content with actions.

He snaps his hips with as much self control as he can muster but eliciting a plea from you that finally forgoes his patience. Sandor drills into you desperately, like an animal with a feral pace. Like a hound mounting his bitch because that’s what you are. He’s greedy when it comes to you.

“You’re all mine.”

You pant, already knowing he wants— needs to hear, “Y-Yours.”

He does, Sandor loves the reminder especially when he doesn’t ask for it. His grip is bruising in the best way, pulling you to meet each thrust. Award from lips sing his favorite song, the wet slaps lude and becoming faster.

Tell me you won’t go. Tell me.

“Could stay like this forever, would you like that?”

You whimper, nodding your head against the sheets. Your hair is wild, obscuring his view of your face. Sandor frowns. That won’t do.

Gently it’s brushed away and he tilts your chin more to the side. He likes to see you, the faces you make, the way your body melts into his touch and especially how your eyes search for him when you’re about to become undone.

You’re perfect.

“Gods, you’re fucking perfect.”

Of fucking course that can come out right but seven hells, you blush like he wasn’t already fucking you raw. Your bottom lip gets trapped between your teeth to fight the growing smile. Such a pretty sight suddenly shoves Sandor closer to the edge than he wants to be. At first it was release he was chasing, now he doesn’t want this moment to end.

There isn’t enough time or restraint in the fucking universe for Sandor Clegane when he’s with you.

He refuses to come before you. It’s bad enough he’s using you like a stress doll, he needs you to come undone on his cock. Sandor grits his teeth as he hugs his arm around your stomach and turns to sit on the bed. He needs to feel it. Gods, it’s almost pathetic how badly he needs you.

He bounces you on his cock, rutting up to meet your abused hole. Sandor holds you tightly when you start to squirm, kissing and nipping at your neck and shoulder. His beard scratches the spot that makes you weak in the knees and you’re already done for, but his lips don’t relent. Sandor kisses you there as you whimper and ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, hugging you flush against his chest.

For a moment you wonder if he was holding back before but your brain turns to mush as he desperately thrusts into you. Sweet kisses from your lover turn into one toe curling bite on your shoulder that will absolutely leave a mark you’ll struggle to hide. He grunts as he cums into you, fucking his load so deep you’ll carry his pups by morning. (You won’t, but the thought drives him wild)

Sandor’s breaths become heavy as he finally relaxes. Frustrations gone, all he feels now is the pure adoration he has for you and only you.

“You alright?” He asks, eyeballing the teeth marks in your skin. Impossible, but he swears his cock twitches again inside of you at the sight.

“Mhm,” You sigh, resting your head back against his shoulder, “You?”

Sandor’s quiet for a moment busy studying your blissed, fucked-out face with that pretty blush still dusting your cheeks. You really are fucking perfect, aren’t you?

“Aye.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Better now.”

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 2 ✿:+ White Mare

previous chapter | 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, MDNI, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, alcohol consumption, mention of parent(s) death, mention of arranged marriage, mention of prostitution, mention of NSFW themes

Word Count: 3037

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Ever since that day in the stable you filled your days with reading, sewing, mindless activities to keep yourself busy. Anything to relieve your mind of the horrors of Kings Landing and your shameful thoughts of the giant who roamed the halls. Loras and you grew distant since you rejected his hand in marriage, in turn you spent your time with the Starks. It was hard at first to be without your only friend but you were determined to get your cousin out of this city. But it wasn’t hard when Sansa clung to you like a scared beaten dog. You were treated no better of course. But at least you knew how to handle such cruelty with a stepmother like Lysa. 

“Don’t let them see you cry,” You’d repeat holding her face “Don’t let it show. Don’t you see how much pleasure he derives from seeing you like this?” 

 Arya would teach you small things she learned during her sword training, and in all honesty it was the most fun you’d had in years. You found yourself becoming more and more invested in those little girls' well being. 

It seemed as soon as Nedd arrived in Kings Landing his time ended. 

That day seemed like a dream. You were summoned by Cersei to her Chambers.

“Has Lord Stark mentioned anything to you about the nature of your fathers death?” Cersei questioned you calmly as she poured wine into her gablet.  

“My fathers?” You asked genuinely confused, she nodded as she sipped her wine “No, your grace.”  

“Good. It would be cruel of him to spark paranoia in the mind of a grieving daughter.” She said as she paced the room with her goblet of wine in hand. 

“Paranoia?” If you weren’t before you would be now. 

Cersei interrupted you once more “Lord Stark will be arrested for treason today. Somewhat unrelated but it would seem that Lord Stark’s head is filled with paranoid thoughts.” 

You didn’t understand why your uncle was on trial for such a crime. You were just a girl to these men, they didn’t speak of such things with you, that is yet. “Little bird, you are a clever and strong girl. I know you are loyal, loyal to the Starks, they are your family. But it is important to be loyal to your allies just the same. Sometimes family will only drag us down, allies however can make us stronger.” Cersei not so subtly threatened you.

You nodded politely, as soon as you could leave you tried to find your little cousins. 

You found Arya by the stables. You noticed the men lying dead on the ground with the Stark girls baggage. You saw Arya holding her bloodied sword after pulling it out of the stable boy.

She was horrified, you approached her slowly and quietly.

“Arya” You spoke gently but that didn’t stop Arya from jumping and pointing needle at you. “Arya, you need to run.” You said softly, almost a whisper. 

She ran to you dropping needle, she wrapped her arms around you. You held her close but kneeled to her height. 

You held her face with both your hands and your eyes bore into hers. “Your family is not safe here. You are not safe here.” Your grasp on her head did not waver. “You have to find a way out, get to the city, find a way out of the city, get to the north.” 

“I can’t!” She began to whine as she cried 

“You can!” you stroked her hair trying to keep her attention “You killed those men?” 

“Just the stable boy” she cried softly

“You killed a man. That's more than most women will ever kill.” You pulled her face closer trying to make sure your words reached her  “Listen to me those men will come and they will kill you. Don’t trust anyone, never tell them your name, never tell them your house. Lie, and get good at it. Kill if you need to.” You said as you grabbed needle and put it in her hand, “Now go.” You say as you let go of her and she runs off. 

‘Good’ you thought as you watched her run away. As you watched you didn’t notice the tears that had fallen from your eyes. 

Soon enough you were summoned by Cersei to witness Nedd’s verdict. 

She didn’t anticipate what came next, and neither did you, watching the death of your uncle. 

You held Sansa through it. As she screamed and cried, you tried your best to conceal her eyes. 

Your eyes however dodged from your uncle to The Hound behind him. You hoped he would do something to stop it, but he didn’t 

And so, it happened. 

The second hand of the king died.

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He thought of it every night. 

The moment he touched you, your skin, the moment his rough hands caressed your throat. 

He rolled the thought over in his mind millions of times. Gods’, it tortured him to no end. He tried to bury himself in his duty, bury himself in any woman who looked the slightest bit like you on the Streets of Silk, even taking himself in his hand at the thought of your scent…. More than once.

The thought of you sparked resentment and anger in his chest. He was Kingsguard now, he had no use for a woman, had no use for these emotions he felt. 

He hated you for it. Hated you for the way he wanted to rip Loras’s head off anytime he saw you and him in the garden. Hated you for the way he thought of your eyes everytime he closed his eyes. Hated you for the way his mind would wonder at you at any turn even on duty. Hated you for the way his chest tightened anytime he caught even a glimpse of you around Kings Landing.  And he hated you for the way your eyes caught his. Each time it was like a deadlock, those eyes, they were a bow and arrow and they shot through him each time. 

He grumbled under his breath anytime you were near. Purposefully look away from you as if you didn’t exist. You pretended not to care, but you fought hard just to catch a single glimpse of his face. The burns that draped across the right side of his face like the sheer lace curtains you had in your room in the Eyrie that distort your view from the window. 

Neither of you had much time to think about these emotions during the following days. You were spending your time mothering Sana as she grieved her fathers death. The Hound was now King Joffrey’s personal bodyguard now that Robert was gone. A terrible task truly. 

Even worse one when your stubborn and rebellious tongue didn’t obey your better judgment around the new king. The Hound tried to convince himself he hated it, but it turned him on even if he didn’t want to admit it. He tried to keep you safe, as safe as he could. Whenever you shot an annoyed glance, a cleverly concealed insult Joffrey's way, the Hound would simply divert Joffrey’s attention to something else. But if you ever got on Joffrey's bad side he couldn’t do much, far be it from him to question a king. On Joffrey’s name day you tested his patience. Joffrey had you and his lady Sansa accompany his side during his Name Day celebration. However you felt a slight sting of joy knowing you’d be so close to him once again. But more so your stomach turned in on itself. Joffrey no doubt invited you for the explicit challenge of trying to elicit some kind of reaction from you in some way. This became clear once he continuously asked for your input on the celebratory fighting. You’d had a small fascination with combat at first. It was like a dance but with blood and swords. but soon you’d grow bored of it. 

As The Hound had beaten a man to a whimpering submissive pulp the fight was over. Joffrey clapped and cheered as The Hound removed his dog helmet.  

Still you were stunned by him. You wanted to hate him for not helping your uncle. You tried to hate him but in all honesty you knew he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He’d no real power, no real way of stopping it.

“Well struck, Dog!” Joffrey shouted, and snapped you out of your trance.

Joffrey turned to you and Sansa “Did you like that?” he asked, taunting you and her. 

“It was well struck, your Grace.” Sansa replied, stoic. 

“I just said that.” Joffrey said, his eyes narrowed, his tone deepened. 

Ser Meryn looked over in Sansa’s direction. You knew what that meant, 

“I found it boring.” You chimed in, your eyes just as narrow as his. 

“You did?” He asked with the same threatening tone 

“Mm” you nodded 

“And what man did your house bring to fight?” 

“Brought no man.” You shook your head 

The Hound returned to his station by the Kings side. He pretended not to listen but he was, intensely. 

“You brought no man to my name day tournament?” He questioned further, you knew he would have taunted you further. To state it was for lack of good men or perhaps your dead father’s power died with him, that your house was to die with it.

“Not one.” Your head whipped towards Joffrey, gaze sharpening. “Not one man wished to celebrate your name day it would seem.”

“Ser Meryn.” Joffrey commanded. 

You noticed the Hound's head tilt in your direction as Ser Meryn walked towards you and slapped you across your face, cutting your lip with the armor of his glove. As Ser Meryn walked away you turned your head back towards Joffrey. 

“You are a pretty girl, a little more plump than I would like, but still a pretty girl.” Joffrey said “You should be more agreeable in tone, or you might find you won't be so pretty.” He smiled as he threatened you. 

“Hm?” He waited for your response as you wiped the blood from your lip. 

As you looked up, “Do you wish for me to cry, your Grace?” you asked almost mocking. 

Joffrey began to dryly chuckle at your remark, probably about to order another hit for you as Ser Dontos Hollard stumbled onto the tournament drunkenly. The Hound cleared his throat, getting Joffrey to shift his attention towards him and not you. With his attention shifted you were safe once more.

Your eyes stayed on the Hound however. You knew what he had done for you, however subtle it was, you noticed. 

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You found yourself spending more and more time near your mare. The moon shined on her just right for her coat to shine almost like metal, and your candle light shined on her just perfectly for her to glow like the sun. Lika, she was the only thing left you had from your home. You’d begin to yearn for the times you’d be furious with your fathers decisions and his useless attempts at comforting you. Because at least if he’d seen you were struck the way you had been, he’d have taken you home. He’d have helped you. But for now, you had Lika. 

As you sat in front of Lika’s stable, you read some book you’d stolen from Tyrion at some point. It was hardly interesting, infact you’d almost fallen asleep but Lika nuzzled her snout into your neck and sniffed you deeply, jolting you awake before you smiled and wrapped your arm around her head. You began to stroke the side of her head as you heard a low and deep voice beckon from the entrance of the stables. 

“Fuck are you doin’ girl.” 

Your head snapped towards him, relief befell you once you saw it was him, the Hound.

You looked back towards your book, “Reading, or I was anyway.” You replied softly

“Read in your room,” He said gruffly as his large hand opened the doors to the stable wider. He was so tall he ducked into the doorway as he walked inside. 

“I’ll decide where I read.” you said defiant as always. 

With a dry chuckle he began to walk towards you, “Words like that are the reason you got that cut on your lip.” 

“You don’t have to remind me of it.” You thought to yourself how this is exactly how you must sound to Sansa.

“Fuck-” He hissed under his breathe “You don’t want my help? Suit yourself.” He huffed “But don’t scream for me when you need it.” 

“I won’t want it.” You say softly “Anyways, you can’t help me.-” You began as he cut you off

“I helped that Tyrell you love.” He said with venom in his voice and a softness in his gaze. 

You furrowed your brows, stood up and faced him head on “And I have thanked you for it.” 

“I know you helped that Stark girl escape.” He said matter of fact

You huffed “What do you want from me?” you asked pained

“I want you to stay away from me.” 

“You seem to forget you came to me.” 

“You should run from me, you should tell me to go.”

“I don’t run.”

“That’s the fucking problem with you, girl. If you’d any sense you’d think of yourself. Change that tone of yours. Change those eyes, the way you look at people… like you want to gut them.” 

“I do want to.” 

“Stubborn” he chuckled darkly “Stubborn will get you beaten.” 

“Why did you come for me?” 

“I saw the light-“

“No. If it were anyone else you’d’ve gone on your way by now.” 

“Fuck does it matter?” 

“Sandor-”

“Don’t call me that.”  He hissed

“Tell me,” You say, raising a hand to his scarred cheek. He flinched and backed away quickly. His scowl deepened. He moved away from you, he turned to face outside the stables. “You wrapped your hand round my throat, and you won't let me touch your cheek?” 

“It’s different, you’re not ruined.” He said whilst he stared into the nothingness outside the stable doors. 

“Am I not?” You asked, your words felt sharp. 

“No, no you are not.” His words felt gentler. 

“I’ve no one, I’ve only this cage I sit in.” 

“You’ve got someone,” He scoffed over his shoulder at me, my eyes looking up at him widening against my will. “You’ve got that Tyrell,” You huffed, “That stark child that follows you like a bloody shadow.” He looked back into the night, “I’ve got no one,” 

“You do,” You say without noticing how bold it was until he turned to you, “Or you would, if you’d let them.” 

“My brother.” he mumbled, his head hung low as he walked closer to you. “Pressed my cheek to the fire.” He finished, unwilling to give anything else. “I know you’ve heard the story, Baelish, that cocksucking rat, no doubt told you.” 

“Course he did.” You didn’t lie, you never could to him. “But I asked you.”

He smirked slightly, his head still slightly turned away from you not wanting you to see. 

Your hand rose to caress his cheek, you did it slowly. He flinched his head away slightly and in turn you pulled your hand back slightly. As his head came back, moving closer towards you. You moved your hand to his cheek once more, slowly. He grabbed your wrist before it could make contact with his face.  

“Look at me,” He hissed “I’m a killer, the things I’ve done-” He thought back on those things “You don’t want this girl.” His grip on your wrist did not loosen, as if he was genuinely trying to protect you. “You’ll wed some lord, you’ll have his sons, and you’ll be far and gone from this shit city.” 

“I don’t want to wed a lord.” Your eyes now are not so hateful but sad. 

“World, doesn’t give a fuck what you want.” His hand reached out, slightly cupped the back of your head, hardly touching. He ran his hand down the length of your hair. Once he reached the end of it he held a lock of it in his hand to examine the color in the candle light. His deep, rich brown eyes reached yours once more. He could swear yours sparkled in any light. 

“I’ll walk you to your chamber.” He said gruffly, peeling his eyes away with yours. He grabbed the book in your hand and walked towards the doors of the stables. 

You let out a staged huff as you followed him. 

As he led you through the halls you realized that you were doing just that, following him. He knew where your chambers were and knew how to get there swiftly. 

The thought lit a fire in your chest. 

As he arrived at your door he stopped, as you opened it you turned to look at him. 

“You stole this from the imp.” He grumbled as he held up the book you did in fact steal. 

Your eyes went from the book to him, “Are you going to report me to the Queen.” You said, you smiled slightly with your eyes. Testing him and his loyalties. He growled under his breath and walked off.

The way you tested his patience stirred something in him. 

He’d definitely be taking himself in his hand that night again.

Is love the death of duty.  Or is duty the death of love?

[verymuch777]

giggling and kicking my feet tee hee

[levithestripper]

can i request game of thrones hcs about jaime, bronn, and sandor's (and whoever else you'd want) sex habits? kinda like the sex habit post you made for attack on titan?

Sex Habits with Jaime Lannister, Bronn, Renly Baratheon, Loras Tyrell, and Sandor Clegane

masterlist

warnings: gender-neutral reader, mating press, hickeys, mention of bondage, power bottom! bronn, orgasm control, oral [m! receiving], dirty talk, overstimulation, hair pulling.

relationships: jaime/reader, bronn/reader, renly/loras, sandor/reader.

included characters: jaime, bronn, renly, loras, sandor.

length: 1.1k || read on ao3

⤷ if you want to be added to the taglist click here

a/n: recently bought myself a hbomax subscription so my game of thrones hyperfixation came back with an aggression that’ll only get worse once house of the dragon comes out

Jaime is always the dominant one in the bedroom. He enjoys having that type of control over you; it’s different than the kind of control he has over his men. Being with someone who trusts him enough to let him restrain them to the point where they’re utterly defenseless fills him with an immeasurable amount of desire.

He loves to leave hickeys or a visible mark on you in places where it’s impossible to hide them. You belong to him, and he’s going to make sure everyone knows you’re off limits. He always ensures they’re a deep, vibrant shade of red or purple, ensuring that the men and women of the court would whisper to themselves about them.

Jaime’s favorite position to take you in is a tossup between cowgirl and missionary. After he loses his hand, cowgirl is easier for him, and he gets the added bonus of watching you bounce on top of him. Even after his hand is gone, missionary is still common with you two, but not as much so. Jaime enjoys folding you in half, pushing your knees to your ears, makin’ you squeal from it.

“Fuck, my love,” Jaime groans, “You’re so tight ’round my cock.” He has your legs resting atop his broad shoulders, effectively folding you in half. His hips slap against your ass, the sound of skin against skin echoing throughout the room. Your moans mix nicely with it, which only spurs Jaime on further. “Gods, I’m gonna fuck you stupid.”

Bronn is more lenient when it comes to dominance in the bedroom. He’d never entertain the idea of being on the bottom, but he’s willing to hand over the reins of control every once in a while. He’s always in control, it’s almost therapeutic for him to let go. Bronn likes it when you take control, likes it when you straddle his waist and make him ask for permission to cum. But if you overuse your power, he’ll stop letting you do it.

Other than cowgirl, his favorite position is doggy. Seeing your pretty little back arch downwards and your ass wiggling in front of his face gets him harder quicker than anything else. His hands spread themselves down your spine, thumbs rubbing over the ridges he finds there.

“Mm, you’re very good at this, you know,” Bronn said, his voice somewhere between a chuckle and a groan. Your lips are wrapped nicely around the sellswords’ thick cock, sucking him off like you have all the time in the world. Bronn cards his fingers through your hair, tugging on it when he wants you to move faster. “Yeah, just like that, love. Just like that.”

Renly and Loras have found what works for them, and they stick to it. Renly likes to top, while Loras prefers to bottom, so it works out well. Loras is a pillow prince; enjoying being pampered and praised and fucked out of his mind. Renly is more than eager to give Loras whatever he wants, loving the sounds of his needy moans.

Loras knows exactly how to get his lover going, and he uses that to his advantage constantly. While Renly is away at his war council, Loras spreads himself out across their bed, back arched nicely, hips swaying as they hovered over the mattress.

The large oak door creaked as it shut behind him, blocking the noise of angry Lords arguing over tired battle plans. Renly ran a hand down his face and then through his hair, groaning softly. A whistle floats through the chamber, guiding Renly’s gaze to his bed. “My Prince,” he grins, the sight of him washing away any stress brought in from his council. “You surprise me.”

Loras chuckles coyly, wagging his hips enticingly. “Your war council was long today, my love. You left me alone for so long.” He fakes a sadness in his voice, enjoying teasing him. Renly walks to the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving the gift that was Loras’ ass. “You like what you see, Your Grace?”

Renly nods, hands gravitating towards the ass in front of him. “Apologies, my love. The war we wage is growing ever most complicated as of late.” He tugs Loras’ breeches down to his knees, hands spreading his cheeks apart to gaze at all his lover has to offer. “I’m sure I’ll be able to make it up to you, hm?” Loras twists his head back to look at him, a broad grin on his face. “Yes, I know just how to make it up to you, my love.” Renly leans down, licking a fat stripe up his lover’s taint.

“Oh, Gods, Renly,” he moans out in surprise, gripping the pillow in front of him, his knuckles turning white. “Just like that, please, keep going.” His hips press against Renly’s face, a silent beg for more, which his King granted. It wasn’t uncommon for Renly to go down on his lover. Loras melts every time. The feeling of his tongue tracing his rim, dipping slightly inside, making Loras moan even louder than before. Renly rarely needed to stop for air, content with the quick, shallow breaths he got between his own moans. “Renly, My King, please, please give me more!”

When you’re with Sandor, there’s no question of who’s in charge. Sandor is either inside the walls of the Red Keep or out on the road, so sex with him is usually quick, as that’s all he ever has time for. He’s not below pulling you into a closet or an empty chamber for a quickie or a sloppy blowjob.

But when he does find himself with an extended period of free time, he spends it catering to you and your pleasure. He pulls you to sit on his face, his nose buried deep in your sex. Sandor doesn’t stop until his chin is dripping with spit and slick and cum, the fluids rolling down his neck and getting stuck in his beard. His hands sit at your hips, forcing you to keep you still and preventing you from wiggling around.

“Sandor, Sandor, please!” you beg, tears streaming down your cheeks, your hands tangled in his unruly, knot-filled hair. His large, calloused hands envelop your waist, forcing you still. You’re positive there will be bruises blooming there later tonight. “Please, please, I can’t cum anymo—ore!” your voice cracks with arousal, pulling on Sandor’s hair harder.

Sandor came up for air, his lust-filled eyes meeting your own. “You’re done cummin’ when I say so, sweetheart.” He kisses the insides of your thighs before returning to the feast above him. Licking stripes up your sex, each one leaving you trembling and shaking with overstimulation. “Now that I’ve tasted you, how can you expect me to stop so soon?”

taglist: @aestosia, @sandorcentral, @aestheticallywinchester, @th3rah, @broadsdrinkwhisky, @i-smoke-chapstick, @groovy-lady, @its-deputy-caleb

[megsironthrone]

Never Fake-Date Your Savior

Based on this request: : glad you’re back!!! i hope you and your hubby get to finish HotD soon! 👀👀 a while ago you wrote a sandor x reader drabble where he’s in the mafia/gang and protecting reader from the boltons by holding their hand? i was wondering if you’d be interested in doing a continuation where they’ve kept up fake dating to keep reader safe but on one of their dates, they both highkey admit they’ve grown to genuinely like the other? 👉👈 if not that’s totally ok, you can ignore this!!! 💌 hope you have a great day

Here you are lovelies!! This is the fic that the 1st place winner of Game of Characters chose to be posted next! *Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*

This fic is a continuation of a drabble I wrote for my 2200 follower celebration

Warnings: Mentions of mob violence? Modern/Mob AU. Fake Dating Trope. Angsty-ish. Fluff.

Pairings/Characters: Sandor Clegane x reader

How did this happen? That was the question you’d been asking yourself for the last several weeks. Ever since you figured out who the man who’d saved you from Roose Bolton’s men was. You’d managed to trade one mob family for another. However, Sandor Clegane was nothing like Roose Bolton or his son. He had saved you the night you met him and had even given you his number so you could contact him as often as you felt unsafe. 

You told him exactly how you’d gotten on the Bolton’s radar and he called you stupid. It wasn’t said to hurt you, but rather to stress just how poor your decision making in your dealings with the Boltons was. You realized that when the Bolton’s men would not leave you alone. It got to the point where you were calling or texting Sandor every other day. It was getting tiresome, but luckily for you, Sandor came up with a brilliant idea.

“What?” you asked in disbelief as you stared at the scarred man. “As often as I see you, we might as well.” You merely stared at him as your brain processed his words. “Let me get this straight,” you managed to say after a few minutes, “You want to fake-date me and make it obvious until Roose and his cronies finally decide to leave me alone?” He nodded. 

“Look, they leave you alone whenever I’m with you. We might as well make sure that’s as often as possible without you having to pull me from work. And I don’t have to listen to your whinging every time you see them.” You glared at him. “I don’t whinge,” you muttered, but he heard you anyway and arched his brow. With a loud sigh, you said, “Fine. I know it’s the best idea we’ve got. So, let’s do it. What could possibly go wrong?”

*time skip*

Feelings. That’s what could go wrong. You developed feelings for Sandor faster than you ever thought possible. Spending so much time with him, day in and day out lead to you falling head over heels in love with him. And you were doomed. Sandor was not a man who expressed feelings easily and he certainly had a very bleak outlook on love. There was no way he would ever, ever return your feelings. 

You hid your growing adoration as best as you could. You stopped seeing him as often, which didn’t help the whole Bolton situation. You kept conversations shorter unless you were out in public together. Anything you could do to avoid confronting your feelings, you tried. Eventually, however, you couldn’t any longer. 

One evening, you and Sandor planned a dinner “date” and for some reason it made you even more nervous than usual. You couldn’t help feeling like something was going to happen. Good or bad, you didn’t know. Just something. You just knew that your life was about to change again. 

Dinner was a soft-spoken affair. That was typical. Sandor didn’t talk much and when he did, it was either quiet enough so only you could hear or loud enough the entire restaurant could hear. No in between. After dinner, you were still feeling a bit antsy, so you asked Sandor to walk with you through a nearby park. He agreed, but was even more quiet than usual. 

“What’s up?” you asked when you were finally away from a crowd of people. Sandor didn’t reply so you stopped walking and looked up at him. “Sandor…” He met your gaze and those deep brown eyes nearly had you drowning in them. “Are you okay?” He nodded, but you didn’t believe him and asked again. “Sandor, I know something’s bothering you. What is-”

“You.” You blinked and your jaw dropped open in surprise. “Oh,” was all you managed as you felt your heart twist in your chest. “I see,” you croaked out, willing the tears not to come. You would not let that man see you cry over him. 

“Why can’t I get you out of my head?” he asked, almost too quietly for you to hear, “You’re always there. I can’t take it anymore. WHY? Why do I always see you staring at me with those (e/c) of yours? You don’t look at me like everyone else does. Like I’m dangerous, which I am. My entire family is. You look at me like…like I mean something. ” 

At that, you felt the tears you wanted to stay away come to your eyes. “Sandor, you do mean something. You mean so much. I-I think I might…” you trailed off, unable to put your feelings into words. Instead, you stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his unscarred cheek. You gently guided him down so you could meet his lips, kissing him softly.

When you pulled away, Sandor was gazing down at you in surprise. He clearly had not been expecting that. While the two of you had shared small pecks, mostly on the cheek, to sell the idea that you were together, you’d never kissed on the lips before that moment. You gave him a soft smile. 

Then, as suddenly as your happy moment came, it ended. Sandor glanced up and a frown made its way to his lips. “Oh,” was all he said before backing away and heading in the opposite direction. You took off after him, confused until you looked over your shoulder. Bolton’s men. 

“Sandor,” you panted, “Wait!” He stopped and whirled on you, fire blazing in his dark eyes. He was furious. “What was that about?” you managed to ask. He gave you a look that said, “Are you kidding me?” 

“I knew we were pretending, but that was lower than I ever thought you capable of,” he growled. Your brows knit together in confusion. “What?” 

“Kissing me like that just because Bolton’s men saw us again. I know I’m no prize, but you didn’t have to…to-” he trailed off as you realized that he wasn’t angry. He was hurt thinking that you only kissed him because you were pretending. You had to remind yourself that the man standing before you hadn’t been shown real love in his entire adult life. “Sandor, I didn’t even know they were there. Honestly. I kissed you because I wanted to. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.” 

Sandor was silent, hanging on your every word. You continued, “When we started this, I was just grateful to be protected. But then I got to know you and spend time with you. I don’t know when or even how it happened, but I fell and I fell hard. I love you, Sandor and nothing else matters. Not what people think, not the dangers from any other “families”, not the Boltons, not even your brother. The only thing that matters at this moment is whether or not you love me too.” You answer came in the form of the giant man pulling you to him and kissing you breathlessly. 

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @etherealpotter @smalltownbigheart @frozenhuntress67 @cd1242 @gruffle1 @supernatural4life2022 @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Sandor Clegane Tags: @songoficecreamandfireworks @nkjktk @silversprings98