#sandor clegane x reader smut

[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

#sandor clegane x reader smut #sandorx reader #Sandor clegane smut #x reader smut #game of thrones smut #the hound smut #sandor x reader #sandor the hound clegane

[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

#sandor x reader #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane #sandor clegane fanfic #sandor the hound clegane #games of thrones fanfiction #games of thrones #rory mccann #Sandor Clegane #smut #sandor clegane smut #Sandor Clegane x reader smut #games of thrones x reader #the hound #got the hound

[bigdog-23]

Sandor x poc reader

#game of thrones #game of thrones au #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane #the hound #sandor clegane x reader smut #x poc reader #x reader

[axelsagewrites]

Main Masterlist Here

House of the Dragon Masterlist Here

Warnings/Guides

【P】Platonic【P】 🆇Smut 18+🆇

Request Line Up and Request Rules

♡ Jon Snow ♡

🆇What he's like in bed🆇

Blind date

🆇Milady🆇

🆇Home Alone🆇

🆇Price of My Secrecy 🆇

Relationship Moodboard

🆇Couldn't Resist🆇

♡ Robb Stark ♡

Best Friend

Marriage night

🆇Dream🆇 🆇part two🆇

Frey Girl 🆇part two🆇

🆇I miss you🆇

Cloak

Honey Cakes (cloak part two or standalone)

Comfort

Sweet Girl

🆇NSFW Alphabet🆇

🆇Good girl🆇

Yearbook

Don't Die For Me

🆇Little Secret🆇

🆇Can't Catch a Break🆇

Goodnight Dear Husband

♡ Sandor Clegane ♡

Most People Say Goodbye Part One - Part Two

🆇Brat🆇

♡ Beric Dondarrian ♡

Home

♡ Thoros of Myr ♡

Favourite Friend

♡ Brienne of Tarth ♡

【P】Queen in the North and South【P】

♡Ned Stark♡

🆇MiLord🆇

🆇Wife🆇

♡Ramsay Bolton♡

🆇My Father Would Kill Me🆇

🆇Catch You🆇

🆇How Far Would You Go🆇

🆇Appreciate You🆇

🆇Bath🆇

🆇Little Mouse🆇

♡Roose Bolton♡

Perhaps

Not Yet

♡Edmure Tully♡

【P】Who We Call Family【P】

My Queen My Love

♡Theon Greyjoy♡

Dream of Sweet Memories

🆇Give it back🆇

♡Sansa Stark♡

Roommates

🆇NSFW Alphabet🆇

🆇What's This?🆇

Surprise Visit

♡Podrick Payne♡

🆇Praise🆇

♡Daenereys Targaryen♡

🆇My Queen🆇

♡Jamie Lannister♡

🆇Extra Credit🆇

♡Oberyn Martell♡

🆇Duty🆇

♡Margaery Tyrell♡

🆇Ropes🆇

♡Cersei♡

🆇Morning🆇

♡Tormund♡

🆇Real Man🆇

🆇Use your words🆇

♡ Yara Greyjoy ♡

Flirting

Preferences/Multicharacter

🆇Company🆇 - Yara and Ellaria threesome

🆇What they're like in bed🆇 – Robb, Jon, Sandor, Podrick

How they react to teasing – all

🆇What They're Like in Bed🆇 – Margaery, Sansa, Danny, Yara

Share pt1 🆇Competition pt2🆇 🆇Wait p3🆇 - Robb and Jon

🆇Hook ups🆇 - Theon and Jon

Love Languages - Jon, Robb, Bran, Tormund, Podrick, Oberyn

Thanks for any support I appreciate it all xoxo Sage

Dividers from here and here from @saradika

Post topper made on Canva

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #ned stark x reader #robb stark x reader #sansa stark x reader #bran stark x reader #jon snow x reader #sandor clegane x reader #jamie lannister x reader #ramsay bolton x reader #brienne of tarth x reader #podrick payne x reader #got #got x reader #got imagine #game of thrones imagine #masterlist #game of thrones fanfic #robb stark #jon snow #game of thrones smut #robb stark smut #theon greyjoy x reader #yara greyjoy x reader #daenerys targaryen smut

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 1

Part 2

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (wedding night, loss of virginity, mild dub con, PIV, biting, praise kink), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: what do we say to big scary murderers? all together now: i can fix him. the smut is at the end so just keep scrolling to the bottom if you wanna pass (: originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx

A collective gasp resonates in the hall upon the utterance of the proclamation. The blonde boy basks in the reaction. I release a breath, hand on my churning belly, as I stand there in front of the Iron Throne. The agitation that filled me threatened to spill from my lips when I curtsied to the king. But by the gods, I manage to mutter, "you have honored me with such a decision, your grace."

King Joffrey smirks, "yes," he shifts in his seat, "I have." He stands from the throne and raises a beckoning hand, "dog!"

All eyes turn to one corner.

The rustle of fabric and the clink of steel fill the hall. I watch as he walks towards me. I watch the large man, clad in darkness from head to toe, hand on his hilt, face adorned with a large burn, come to my side but pay me no mind. He turns to his king, "your grace."

"My king," queen Cersei mutters to her son, "he is a member of the Kingsguard, he cannot--"

"My word is law, is it not?" the boy says.

His mother looks at him then us, and says no word.

Joffrey grins, "I present your new ward," he raises his arms, "orphaned at war, parents and brothers dead, house left with no heirs. She turned to me for counsel," he points to his chest, "for she would die on her own. And now I give her you," he clasps his hands, "to have and to hold in holy matrimony."

The room is dead silent.

"Consider it a gift for your loyal service," he turns to me, "a rather generous one, given your infliction," he turns back to him.

The man on my side nods once.

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes."

I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine father."

A loud and shrill laugh echoes in the chamber, demanding everyone's attention. Joffrey wheezes until he's red and tumbles back into his metal chair. He catches his breath and nods, "he- mmm, he would," he chuckles.

The king settles himself and waves us off, "go forth and make arrangements then, my lady. Your protector awaits."

I flinch at the way the wooden door is opened. Sandor stands before me, in a dress shirt and a scowl, leaning against the opening of his chamber door. I look away and curtsy, "good morrow, Lord Sandor," I steal a quick glance at Lucy by my left, "I've had my handmaiden prepare f-"

"Hound." 

I lift my eyes to his face. The sour expression he held is amplified by the scar on his side. His eyes burn into me. "They call me the Hound," he grunts, "y'know that?"

I clasp my hands in front of me and open my mouth before muttering, "yes. Yes, I do."

"Then save me of this lord business," he straightens up and walks off inside his chambers. I watch him as much as I can from where I stood outside his room. I pipe up when he is no longer in eye's view, "may I come in?"

"Door's open, isn't it?"

I look at Lucy hesitantly, motioning she stay outside. I push the door wider and walk in, seeing Sandor was now getting dressed.

I stare at him for a moment, pressing my hands closer together, "would you like for me to he-"

"I'm not the king who has a bitch for every task."

I clench my jaw at his icy words.

Sandor begins to do his clasps, "why are you here, girl?"

He does not look at me after asking. I purse my lips before replying, "I am heading to the tailor to pick fabrics and-"

"Why isn't the tailor coming here?" he asks, still focused on dressing himself.

Sandor finally turns to me after fixing his top. I look up at him, feeling a dread build in my belly, "I wanted to go outside."

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head. He takes steps closer.

My lips part. I blurt, "the palace is too stuffy."

"Stuffy?" he retorts, "I wonder how large your house is if you find it stuffy here."

I shake my head, "I did not mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?" Sandor says, tilting down to look upon me once he is close enough. I am unable to withhold myself from stepping back. I mutter, "there are many... looming presences. It's overwhelming."

"Looming, she says," he grumbles. "Well, little lady, you're going to be shackled to me, and I'm shackled here. You'll have to get used to these looming presences."

I turn away from him and take a breath. Must he speak to me like I'm a child?  "I understand that."

"No, I don't think you do," he says.

I look back at him. His gaze is as hard as ever.

"The moment a thing like you is outside the castle walls, thieves and rapists will fight to getcha," he walks off, "get your footman to escort you right in front of the shop and back."

I furrow my brows as he heads to the door, "wait, what about you?"

He stops right in front of Lucy and turns back, "what about me?"

"I'm going to the tailor to be fitted a dress for our wedding," I explain, "I came here to bring you along with me," I point to the woman at his side, "Lucy has made food for you to-"

"Why would I go with you to a tailor?"

Will he ever let me finish speaking? I hold back my annoyed expression, "you need to be fitted for your wedding at-"

"I'm not your dress up dolly," he grumbles, face pinched in disgust, "I'll be wearing my armor and that's that."

We stare at each other for a moment. I watch as Lucy glares at Sandor from behind. I clench my jaw tightly before curtsying, "as you wish, my lord-"

"Hound," he barks.

I look at him in shock, "you wish me to call you hound?"

He narrows his eyes and scoffs, "it's what I am-- what you're marrying, isn't it?"

I debate his words, unsure if he meant it or if it was a trick, a reason for him to be angry at me, "may I call you by name?"

He feels disdain burn up from his belly to his throat, "what? Too good to admit that-"

"That is not what I said!" I quip hotly.

The hulking man is rendered silent. He did not expect that. Still, he decides not to respond and walks away.

I scoff when he does so.

Lucy makes a face at him before coming up to me, offering a remorseful look, "he's a brute, milady! Rugged and ugly and mean!"

"Lucy," I warn as she takes my arm and escorts me out. She closes the door on our way and makes a face, "he's a thickheaded oaf!" she glares behind her to no one, "he's lucky-- blessed by all gods to be promised to a lady like you, and he treats you as though you were the degene-"

"Lucy!" I quip, yanking her by the arm.

She is finally silenced because of this. We both halt in our spot.

I hiss, "if someone were to hear you, if he were to hear you..." I shake my head, "he is my lord now. He is your lord."

Lucy grumbles.

"If it could be, I would not marry anyone," I tell her under a hushed voice, "but you know that cannot be."

We begin to walk down the hall. I continue, "I had thought I'd end with an old lord, eager to inherit my estate and esteem," I shake my head, "shocking as it was to be thrown like a bone to him..." I look out the open windows, "at least... the Hound... can protect me," I look back to Lucy, "protect us."

Lucy's face falls solemn. We hold each other's gaze for a moment. She then offers, "you're right. Them forest monsters will cower in fear at the mere sight of the 'ound."

We head to the castle gates, "do you think the guards will let us-"

"We'll walk, Lucy," I reply.

"What?! But the Hound said-"

"He expected me to have footmen and you know well that I don't. I do not think it would be appropriate to instruct the servants here to go out of their way for us. Besides, the shop is not far, you know this."

"But, Lady, I- I can drive the carriage again!"

I shake my head, "don't be ridiculous, Lucy. Do you know how silly we'd look galloping in a carriage for just a few streets down the city?"

Lucy is unable to talk me into any of her ideas. We ask the guards let us through the gate then walk to the tailor.

Once there, I am greeted by the tailor and immediately attended to.

Lucy and I go through the fabrics together. I laugh at her sentiment that all the fabrics would look good on me.

"Here," the tailor says, placing a strip of fabric on my shoulder, "I think this would suit you well, lady."

I look at myself in the mirror just as Lucy says, "that's it! That's the one!"

"Lucy," I chuckle, "you've said that about all the fabrics thus far."

"And I meant it every time!" she retorts, "but this one, this one is truly better than all the rest."

I look at myself in the mirror, "this one is actually quite pretty," I agree, "it's a very pale shade of red, but I quite enjoy it."

"It is all the rage with the ladies at court," the tailor says.

I smile, "very well. I should like to have this for my wedding dress."

Lucy squeals and applauds.

"A fine choice, my lady," the tailor nods and finishes measuring me.

The moment Lucy and I exit the tailor shop, we are scared by a loud holler. We turn to our side and see the mighty Hound, leaned against the wall. He straightens up and marches towards me.

"My Lord Sand-"

"What did I tell you about going outside the castle?" he barks, glaring down at me. His nostrils flare. His jaw clenches. My stomach rolls.

I give him a look and push Lucy behind me, "there was no dange-

"That's what you think. But tell me, what do little girls know but to play dress up?"

I whimper when he grabs my arm and drags me like an unruly child all the way back to the palace. I do not try to fight him. I know I will only hurt and tire myself if I do.

"Maybe I should let the peasants have at you," he mutters, side-eyeing me hotly, "teach you a lesson."

"Let her go!" Lucy shrieks.

He threatens to strike her when she tires to pull me away. I shout in protest. Sandor huffs and decides to simply continue dragging me.

The moment we are past the gates, he releases me roughly, making me yelp. Lucy grabs my arm and checks if I am injured.

Sandor eyes every one of the men present, "I'll make a jump rope out of the entrails of whoever fucking lets her out again."

The Hound storms off, leaving me and my handmaiden reeling and everyone else uneasy.

Sandor walks down the halls across the keep. He notices a guard looking down from the window. He wonders if he should push him for no other reason than the fact that he can.

He doesn't. He goes downstairs. He furrows his brows at the sight of men huddled together, looking at something in the gardens. He realizes it's most likely the same thing the man upstairs was looking at.

He walks their way, because he has to anyway, but is, frankly, uninterested in whatever the fuck has these men gawking.

On his way to his insufferable master, he passes Baelish, who is seemingly chipper to see him. The man smiles, "greetings, Hound."

The Hound ignores him.

"Pretty little thing in the garden. A darling flower, ready to be plucked," Baelish smirks as he watches the large man pass, "our king truly blessed you with such a match."

His expression does not change but his ears do ring at that as he walks down the hall.

He wills himself not to think of it, Littlefinger is a leech, but by the end of the day, his words are still ringing in mind. How irritating it was, suddenly, that he did not look at whatever the fuck it was those men were gawking at.

He's fuming at the sight of more men flocked by the garden when he reaches that hall again.

"OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!" he growls, thrashing past anyone who was slow and stupid enough not to get out of his path in time.

Sandor's eye twitches as when he sees what the commotion is all about.

"So, the princess said to him, 'away with you. I would rather never feel your kiss than yearn for something I will never feel again.' " I read the last section of the page. I flip to the next part and offer a smile to the children leaned on my lap listening to my story.

"Why would she tell him to go away?" Benji asked me from my right.

Lucy, beside him, chuckles and brushes his hair back,

I offer, "well, the prince had to go away. I suppose the princess just wanted it to be done with."

To my left, Ophelia, the boy's younger sister, pushes the book in my hand down so that she can see the picture. I show it to her just as Benji says, "she should have kissed him."

I chuckle, "well, maybe she will. There are a few more pages le-"

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

I gasp and look up. A protective form of ire burns through me at the sound of Sandor's words. The two siblings in my arm squeal at the sight of him and cower into my breast. I glare at him, "there are children here!"

"I can bloody see that," he looks down with contempt, "what? Are they your bastards?"

Lucy takes hold of the children.

"They are not bastards!" I rebut, "they are my childhood friend, Lady Deena's children, who, mind you, travelled far to King's Landing for our wedding!"

"I don't give a fuck about Lady Deenas or Lady Danas. Couldn't you have read to the rats in your damn chambers, girl?"

I give my handmaiden one look and, immediately, Lucy takes Benji and Ophelia along with their fairytale book. They scurry away to their chambers as the children clamor.

I stand from the stone fence we had been sat on, "we wanted fresh air."

"You wanted attention," the Hound quips.

I am wholly offended by his accusation. Now that I was standing alone in front of him, my confidence from having something to protect dwindles. I don't get to ask from whom he thought I wanted attention because he's soon berating me all over again. He quips, "does it please you to know all the guards in King's Landing want to fuck a baby into you?"

I am appalled by his venom.

He grabs me by the arm and begins hauling me off. A squeak spills from my lips at his brute force. Part of me wishes to fight back this time; I do not want him to humiliate me by dragging me around again. And yet I find myself unable to do anything more than latch my fingers into his iron grip, trying to at least loosen it.

Sandor, of course, does not budge.

"Is it a crime to read to children?!" I whine out in frustration, finding it immensely difficult to keep up to with his wide strides.

He does not make a sound, save the sound of his boots on the stone floors. I pant as we hike up the steps, yet still, I find myself explaining, "I would have done the same to our children!"

I do not see that Sandor reacts to this because I am too busy trying to match his pace.

I thank the gods when he finally releases me. When I catch my breath, I realize I am in front of the door to my chambers.

"Do not stroll around as if you actually live here," Sandor quips, raising a finger at me.

"But I do-"

"Last time I checked, you're not marrying into royalty," he cuts me off.

I watch the large man walk off right after speaking this. I rub my arm as I feel my eyes water. More than his heavy grip, I was once again hurt by his jagged treatment. My voice breaks as I shout out, "wou-ld you at least tell me what exactly I've done to have angered you so?!"

He does not slow, nor does he look over his shoulder when he barks back, "I don't want to see you fucking reading to those children again."

Needless to say, I crumble into a fit of tears the moment I get into my chambers.

When Lucy comes to my side on my bed, he curses the Hound and does her best to console me. She rubs my back as I weep my woes out into my pillow, "oh, Lucy, he doesn't just despise me, he despises children!"

Lucy scoffs, "why am I not surprised."

She regrets saying this when I turn to her with wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. She gives a guilty expression, "milady, I-"

"That's all I ever wanted," I sniffle, "all I ever dreamed of-" my lips quiver, "being a mother. Having children. You know this."

Lucy bites her lips tightly as I continue to sob. She mutters, "pardon my foolish words, lady."

"Oh, what does it matter-" I rub my philtrum, "you're right. This is not a surprising development."

"You can still get him to give you his babes! Men like making babies, not really taking care of them. And of course, I would never leave your side. I would help you raise your darlings, protect them from him," she speaks sincerely. I knew her words meant to comfort me but in truth, I don't think they do.

It seems she can tell that, which is why she's apologizing all over again.

I shake my head and place my hand on her cheek, "it's alright, Lucy... you needn't worry... it's all... going to be alright.

Sandor and I look starkly contrasting at the altar. He is dark and brooding, clad in hard armor and a perpetual frown. I am bright and jittery, wrapped in pale reds and nervous smiles.

The septon binds our hands together in fabric. We turn to each other as we speak our vows.

My heart races when we are told to kiss. I suck in a breath and get on my tiptoes to reach his lips. I crane my neck up; he makes no effort to lean down in return. Still, our lips meet and in that moment, I am his.

The audience applauds us, the sound of King Joffrey's laugh is apparent even through it. Our wedding was not a grand event; the king wanted it to happen in haste, and I could not afford to make it a grand anyway. There were also not so many people in attendance, and yet it felt like the whole world was watching me in this moment.

The celebration feast that came after was terribly tedious and severely unenjoyable for me, and for Sandor. Everyone else seemed to enjoy the merrymaking though, namely the king, and I suppose that was enough.

I did nothing but smile and thank my guest from my seat next to Sandor. He did not speak to me, let alone anyone who came up to us with congratulations on their lips. All he did was eat. I suppose it could be worse. At least one of us could stomach eating at this moment.

The only life I felt was when I was introduced to a babe of one of the ladies. The sweetling had only seen 4 moons and she was as sweet as can be. She was so precious. I just had to hold her. I was inspired to even stand and frolic a bit with her in my arms.

Her mother and I conversed much about babies and child rearing. My stomach rolled in a mix of excitement, dread, anticipation, and worry all at once, knowing this was to be the next part of my life now.

I enjoyed all the stories she told me. I was flattered when she said I would be a great mother, for her child in my arms did not fuss one bit and she was known to be quite fussy. I giggled at all the wonderful memories she had with her other children who, she said, were even fussier than her daughter. I nodded solemnly at her advice in child birth and breastfeeding, making sure not to let a single word go unheard.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Sandor was watching this all from his spot with the cup of wine before him. He did not avert his eyes once; he watched each and every move.

Well, it was unbeknownst to everyone excluding Lord Baelish, who was rather amused by it all, which was why he decided to act.

"Lady Clegane," Lord Baelish comes up to me and raises a hand, "might you spare me a dance?"

I turn form the babe in my arms to him. I smile a small one, "I'm afraid my darling friend here makes me unwilling to do anything but coddle her."

The child's mother on my left laughs, as does Baelish. He links his hands together, "well, judging from your darling friend's temperament, I'd say you would be a fine mother."

"I agree," the lady says.

I grin from ear to ear, heart soaring at the sentiment, "I would like to be nothing more."

Baelish presses his lips into a smirk, "may the gods bless you with many children then," he raises his hands "and may they all take after your sweetness, grace, and beauty."

The way Baelish speaks those words were intentional, as was everything was with him. The comment leaves an air of tension between us. The man basks in it and decides his work is done here.

"I-It is kind of the king to assign a larger room," I muster up as I walk into my new chambers-- our new chambers.

Sandor follows after me, locking the door behind him. He hums, "I doubt it was the king that thought of it. It was probably the queen."

I stand by the end of the bed. I brush the sheets with my hand. I mutter a correction, "kind of her to think of us."

When I turn, my breath hitches at the sight of Sandor standing right behind me. I suck in a sharp breath as I take in his expression. His face is barely visible in the dark. I can only see as much as the moon allowed. Still, I can tell he is stoic, hard, and predatory. This was it.

My hands tremble. I fiddle with my fingers, "shall I-" I bring my palms to his chest plate, "help you out of your armor?"

Sandor does not respond to me.

"H-husband?"

He takes my hand, taking a shaky breath from my lips along with him. He leads me to his claps and shows me how to undo them before releasing my hand to do it myself. I continue to undo all the claps until his armor is off him. When he is left in his shirt and trousers, he snatches my wrists before I can undress him any further. I freeze in my spot.

My belly churns at his touch. It is reminiscent of the times he has dragged me by the arm, and yet the firm grip is a notch gentler. The way is brows furrow is barely visible because of his burns, but I see it. He leans down and his dark hair spills over his scar, "do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"

My breath hitches. I take a moment to even my breathing before responding, "yes."

He hums and lifts his nose, "what's going to happen?"

"You're going to fuck me."

Sandor laughs lowly. I am shocked when he swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."

I look up at him with wide eyes as his own rake me up and down. I feel incredibly self-conscious under his scrutiny. I want to push him away and hide under the sheets. Yet still, I am rendered frozen in my spot.

"Tell me honest, have you ever done this before?" he speaks rather softly.

I feel my body burn. I shake my head, unable to speak.

Sandor allows me a second. He believes it yet finds it hard to believe. "I would not judge you if you did," he adds.

I shake my head faster.

He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't--" he grabs my ribs and spins me around. The action makes my heart hammer. He pushes my hair to the side, over my shoulder. I squeak softly when he begins to undo the back of my dress. He completes his thought, "-- you're a good girl."

Though he was loosening my ties, I was finding it harder to breathe. He very soon slips my dress off my shoulders, leaving me in my shift. After doing so, he begins to remove the pins in my hair. It takes a while for him to accomplish it. I count the clinks that come from him dropping the clips onto the floor.

When he is done, he gently combs through my locks and lets my hair run loose. It was then he nudges me, "on the bed. On your back."

I shudder and crawl on the bed. I watch him take his shirt off the moment I lie on my back. I immediately turn away and close my eyes when I notice his bulge. His hands undo the string of his trousers.

I press my thighs together. I feel my heart pound. It pounds intensely between my legs.

"Aren't you curious to see what it looks like?"

I curl my legs up at his words.

I gasp and flinch when he grabs my ankles, my eyes ripping open to see what he was doing. He straightens my legs out and pulls me down; I gasp once more when he does so.

I catch sight of his opened trousers. I see the way the hair on his wide, battle-scarred chest trails down to the thick, dark hair beneath his navel. I see the imprint on his pants clearer. I shut my eyes again.

I hear him pull his trousers down. I feel the bed dip as he crawls over.

My hands dig into the sheets as he knocks my legs apart. I am passive and obedient; I make room for him. I can hear my pulse from my screwed eyes.

Goosebumps form on my skin when Sandor's hot, calloused fingers brush up my thighs. He lightly kneads my flesh. The action almost makes me moan. He stops and pushes my skirt up when he feels something by my hips, "where did you get this?"

I feel him ghost over the deep scar on my left hip. I cover my face in the crook of my elbows, "I was attacked."

He does not respond.

"That was the day my family died."

Sandor feels bad for asking. He feels a bit more when the thought does not prevent his cock from hardening. He adjusts his grip, hiking my shift up higher. His hands claw on my hips but only one remains. His mouth waters.

I gasp and slap my thighs close, or at least try to, when I feel him brush something firm and damp against my pulsing core. He uses the sheer size of him to prevent me from actually pressing my thighs together.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh-" he tuts, "this is for your own good. Believe me."

My toes curl and my hands dig into my pillow as he fondles with me. The sensation makes my body twitch and the wet squelching sound that pierces my ears fill me up with an unnamable sensation. Soon enough though, I feel myself become undeniably aroused.

My hips begin to roll and my back begins to arch.

Sandor grunts and licks his lips, loving every moment of his private show, "good girl."

His words strike up my belly like lightning.

Lewd sounds begin to dribble past my lips. I feel my body begin to tingle. The sopping sounds intensify.

"Feel good?" he asks, "you like it?"

I find no room to deny it. I instantly respond, "yes."

"Good," he trails off.

My grip on the pillows loosen when he begins to slow. I bring my hands to the side when he falls to a stop. Just as I am about to look down to see what was wrong, my heart races all over again when he hooks his fingers behind my knees and nestles between my thighs. He positions against me. I feel him guide his hardened length into my folds.

I let out a loud groan when he slips into my wetness. He grunts and cusses as he sinks down, balls deep. My nails claw at his shoulders. He pushes my knees back to the mattress. Surprisingly, the weight of him is not suffocating, in fact, it was welcomed... it was delicious.

I whine viscerally when he begins to buck his hips slowly.

"Mmm, fuck," he pants, "so fucking tight. So pretty and wet and warm, my sweet virgin."

My jaw drops at his words.

"My sweet lady wife," he growls, "all," he drags out, "mine."

My breath strains and escapes my throat hotly. My sounds match each of his thrusts; they are deep and lewd. Sandor's male ego is through the roof because it if. He slowly picks up the pace.

I am a mess of whines at the feel his manhood stretching and prodding into me. My body shivers every time he collides with the tender spot in me. It feels so good; it's nothing I've felt before.

Sandor grunts and shifts on his knees. He adjusts me beneath him like I weighed nothing, and maybe I didn't to him. I slip out a scream when he batters into me with such delicious force.

"Shhhhh," he hushes shakily, hands forcing my hips down in place so I didn't shoot off as he snapped his hips into me. With every hit of flesh, his stones knocking into me, his wet skin, slapping into my dripping folds, I feel my body burn and tighten more.

"Don't be too loud," he scolds emptily, for in truth, he would love it if he got something even louder. He leans lower, "wouldn't want you to wake all of King's Landing." But please do.

His words momentarily push sense into my mind. It doesn't last. I can barely mask my loud cries and he fucks into me. My nails dig into his scalp. He lets out a sound because of it.

Sandor shifts again. This time, his buries his face next to mine. He presses against me, chest to chest, grabs the bed frame with one hand, my knee with the other, and rams into me so hard, the bed creaks and knocks into the wall.

My eyes roll back and my open mouth latches onto his shoulder. I naturally then sink my teeth in is taut flesh. It does wonders to muffle my sounds but it pulls out some from Sandor.

"Gods, girl. Yeah," he heaves, "sink your," he gives two particularly rough thrusts, "fucking teeth into me."

My breathing grows erratic after this. An intense pressure begins to build in my belly.

"S-Sandor- Sandor-"

He hums and maintains his intense pace, "come girl. Just a bit more. Come around my cock like a good, dirty girl."

His words push me on the edge. I crumble and convulse beneath him exactly like it, a good, dirty girl. My voice is just as shaky as my thighs are. My body bursts into an intense, burning pleasure. 

My body drips in sweat and slick and spit and tears, all purely out of bliss. All the air is pulled out of my lungs as I fall into this feeling.

Sandor curses. His thrusts grow erratic. I would scream if I wasn't so winded and exhausted. He stabs so roughly into me, I flinch because it feels like he's hitting the very depths of my mind. Then, he breaks into a growl and I feel him throb so strongly until his movements come to a halt.

Once he is still, I am obliterated. I cannot move. I can only feel heat and pulsing. I feel terribly sticky and so full. I love every inch of it.

I sigh and lean into him. I can imagine now why many paid for this pleasure, why people had so many children. My fingers scratch into his nape. I rub my face against his cheek; I feel the texture of his burn. Sandor stiffens.

The next moment, he pulls away, and it was then I realized doing that, nuzzling into him, was obviously a mistake. I gasp at the sudden lost of contact, the emptiness. I watch him jump out of the bed, as if I was fire and I had burned him. I press my thighs together and push my skirt down, feeling shame wash over me as I watched him tuck himself into his trousers like he was eager to leave me.

And he looked exactly like he meant to leave me at this moment.

"Where are you going?" I ask him, but my voice is so small and unsure that he doesn't hear it.

He grabs his shirt and puts it on. He heads to the door, unlocks it quickly, and insults me by saying, "good night."

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[enveine]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he was coming right towards you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You need to keep quiet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sandor wasn’t even in completely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#sandor clegane smut #smut #sandor clegane #sandor the hound clegane #the hound #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane x you #the hound x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #reader insert #got smut

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog

+:✿ Chapter - 1 ✿:+ New Pretty Cage

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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

#sandor clegane #sandor x reader #sandor clegane x reader #got x reader #got hc #game of thrones #the hound #got #sandor headcanon #sandor #sandor clegane fanfic #the hound fanfic #sandor the hound clegane #sandor fluff #sandor fanfic #sandor clegane smut #sandor clegane fic #sandor clegane x you #sandor clegane fluff #sandor fic #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfic #sandor clegane angst #sandor angst #sandor smut

[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.

#lady in writing #sandor clegane #sandor x reader #sandor the hound clegane #sandor clegane smut #rory mccann

[tinfairies]

PLEASE! reactions to sandor, theon, jorah, jon, tyrion, sansa and missandei for praising them during sex?

I just did the men for this one, my character limit is 4 but I couldn't choose so I did all of them

Sandor buries his face into the crook of his lovers neck. His face flushing at their words, his hips don't slow however. He opts to kiss at their delicate skin, trying to ignore the praise. It's not as though he doesn't like it, he just feels as though he doesn't deserve it. The praise keeps coming however, his lover keeps mumbling how good he feels and how amazing he is.

He sits up, bringing his lover with him. Sandor holds them close, their chests pressed together, then his lips find theirs. A desperate attempt to silence them as he keeps thrusting, bouncing them on his cock. Their arms wrap around him, as well as their legs. Clinging to him as he fucks them mercilessly. They make a note to praise him like that more often if this is how he'll react.

Theon is cocky about it, smirks and thrusts into his lover even harder. "You like that huh?" his hands wander and he gropes at every part of their body. Even if he doesn't fully believe that he's the best man out there, he makes his lover moan and squirm and cum. That's all that matters to him. Theon makes sure they'll remember him even if they leave him, he's the best cock they'll ever have.

His fingers pinch at his lovers nipples, he loves the way they squeal at the sensation. His cock plows into them, the wet sound of their slick and his hot precum is downright selacious. He wants to hear more about how good he feels, how hot he is. If he had it his way, he'd never leave his lovers bed.

Jorah can't help but get flustered when he hears the praise. His heart climbs up his throat as his lover moans and tells him how amazing he's doing. He leans down, his head resting against their chest. His thrusts don't slow down, in fact he angles his hips to go deeper. He opts to kiss their soft skin and hide his face from them. Jorah knows he shouldn't feel embarrassed, but how can someone so perfect love someone like him?

His hands roam their body, tracing down their sides and groping their hips. Pulling them against him and losing himself in their love. He believes that if he doesn't acknowledge the praise, he doesn't have to accept it. He can't accept it, not a man like him.

Jon doesn't register his lovers words at first. He's so lost in them, wanting to make them feel as good as possible. When they repeat themselves, it hits him. He can't help but pick up his pace, he wants to hear it again. His hips angling in such a way that his cock goes deeper than before. Again and again his lover praises him, calling him a good boy and moaning that he feels heavenly.

He doesn't believe their words, not really. But it doesn't stop Jon from drinking them down like a deserted man. He knows that outside of this bed he isn't good, though he tries. No, the only place he's truly good and thoroughly skilled is right here between his lovers legs.

Tyrion lives for praise, craves it and works hard for it. He knows he's good in bed, downright godly even. The words of his lover fuel his ego, he'd laugh and smile, asking if they want him to fuck them stupid. He loves to hear how good he's doing, how good his cock feels up inside them. He's thrusting his hips into theirs, hands roaming, he wants to hear more. Tyrion will keep going long after he and his lover cum, he doesn't want them to stop praising him.

He knows that when he pulls out, and they get cleaned up, that the praise ends. He doesn't want it to, perhaps that's why most of his free time is spent in brothels. Either way, he'll revel in his lovers words for as long as they can last.

#Game of thrones x reader #game of thrones headcanon #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #got x reader #got imagine #got headcanons #Got #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane #jorah mormont #jorah mormont x reader #jon snow #jon snow x reader #theon greyjoy #theon greyjoy x reader #tyrion lannister x reader #tyrion lannister #Smut #Fluff #Reactions

[grcnseer]

NSFW Visuals ➢ HotD & GoT :: Part Two

synopsis :: various smutty scenarios & nsfw twitter links. Some were requested, others were not.

includes: Ser Erryk Cargyll, Aegon ii Targaryen, Sandor Clegane, Tormund Giantsbane, & Podrick Payne

warning(s): NO MINORS!!, smut, literal p0rn, not me posting this on my birthday lmao

SER ERRYK CARGYLL (m/f)

LINK :: loves taking care of you and would never expect anything in return

LINK :: he would know exactly how to get the reactions he wants from you...

LINK :: would fuck you deep and slow before leaving for his guard shift

LINK :: do I really need to explain??

LINK :: erryk would be hesitant the first time things got rough, but eventually he’d know exactly what you need...

LINK :: could and would spend the entire night between your thighs, he’d have no problem finishing in his hand

LINK :: takes his own pleasure in taking care of you...

LINK :: but you’d be sure he knew how appreciative you are ;)

AEGON II TARGARYEN (m/f)

LINK :: cannot stop thinking about this... the pace, trading slaps, the switch dynamic— it’s so aegon

LINK :: is absolutely the type to beg you to mark him and whining when you do

LINK :: he loves loves loves your ass especially when he’s drunk

LINK :: would promise he’s just gonna finish on your ass, but couldn’t help himself...

LINK :: another promise he tried to keep, but what could he say?? It just slipped

LINK :: mornings with aegon would be the best since he’s sober and needy

LINK :: he would be mean even when he’s taking care of you...

LINK :: I don’t think this one needs much of an explanation

I know these next three men have the biggest dicks in Westeros... I just KNOW IT...

SANDOR CLEGANE (m/f)

LINK :: sandor is big and he’s aware of it so he’d try his best to be gentle with you in the beginning <3

LINK :: cannot even imagine his reaction to this— would prob come immediately

LINK :: no words tbh

LINK :: once he’s sure you could handle it he’d have no problem getting rough with you...

LINK :: would want you to show him exactly what it takes to please you since he’s never taken the time to learn/care before you

LINK :: knows his cock can be intimidating and has no problem letting you take it at your own pace

LINK :: letting him take out his frustrations on you would be a different type of pleasure tbh...

LINK :: never thought he’d find someone who’d actually want him so doesn’t mind your occasional teasing

TORMUND GIANTSBANE (m/f)

LINK :: exactly how I imagine tormund fucking— the growling, playing with every part of your body, pausing to go down on you yes pls

LINK :: tormund would insist on bathing together, but if you agree once be prepared to have him there every time...

LINK :: would absolutely tease you over it, whispering for you to look at how deep his is...

LINK :: what was it he told jon? your cock shouldn’t go near her ‘til she’s slick as a baby seal?

LINK :: he would be so versatile, playing into your moods and fucking you soft & slow...

LINK :: but also taking full control of you when the moment calls

LINK :: tormund would love for you to ride his cock, something about seeing you use him to get yourself off gets his blood boiling

LINK :: I actually have nothing to say about this... I just think he would...

PODRICK PAYNE (m/f)

LINK :: always thinking about sitting on podricks lap, taking him as deep as you can while grinding together...

LINK :: he would actually be mesmerized by it and would absolutely blush when you catch him staring

LINK :: the most selfless man alive pls use him he loves it so much

LINK :: would be hesitant about taking your maidenhead, but wouldn’t deny another option...

LINK :: pod would be such a patient top, giving you time to adjust before he fully sinks in <3

LINK :: okay but a full night with podrick?? I think about it often... and need to know exactly what he did to those whores...

LINK :: would love eating your cunny, but if you offer him praise? he’d worship you...

LINK :: and he would be a big fan of... mutual gratification

#hotd headcanons #hotd smut #got headcanons #got smut #aegon targaryen smut #aegon x reader #sandor clegane x reader #tormund x reader #podrick x reader #erryk cargyll x reader #sandor clegane smut #tormund giantsbane smut #podrick payne smut #erryk cargyll smut #sandor c reader #podrick payne x reader #tormund giantsbane x reader #house of the dragon headcanons #game of thrones headcanons #house of the dragon smut #game of thrones smut #twt visuals #twt headcanon visuals #smut visuals

[taereaderwriter]

Game of Thrones - Recommendations

Sador ‘The Hound’ Clegane

The Hound and the Vulture (ongoing?) - @summervale

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

P1 note: Third person reader-insert! A wandering widow and a wanted warrior. They're no "The Bear and the Maiden Fair," but they're close enough, right? After saving his life, the scavenger is half tempted to sell him out and half tempted to have her way with him. The dog is half tempted to throw her in the Trident and half tempted to throw her in the Blackwater Rush. 

if he’s as bad as they say, then i guess i’m cursed (complete) - @diorstarr

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: It starts like most bad things do. Because Joffrey finds it funny. Or, you get married to The Hound. 

Love? (complete) - @justallamaimaginingthings

“A/n: That was not even requested, but after 8x05 I needed some Sandor fluff, so there you go. Hope you enjoy it and don’t hesitate to drop by my askbox whether it is to request anything, leave a comment or just to chat”

Sandor Clegane x Reader (Wildling) (complete) - @lunnybunny12

“A/N: The reader is a wildling in this story and has never heard of the hound before.”

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death and no fluff

Listen to me (complete) - @myfictionaldreams

Request: “The reader is a fighter an she almost gets killed in battle but sanders saves her once the battle is over he finds her in her room and they get into an argument that leads to rough smut with biting marking and dirty talk if you don’t mind”

The Hound’s Wedding (complete) - @myfictionaldreams

Summary:  King Joffrey needed a way to send a message to your brothers in Winterfell. What better way than marrying you off to the bloodthirsty Hound.

Warnings: +18 readers only, Loss of Virginity, Size Kink, Reader is a Stark, Size Difference, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex

The Teasing Game (complete) - @myfictionaldreams

Summary: There was nothing you loved more in life than teasing Sandor Clegane. What happens when he can’t take it anymore and he finally snaps?

Warnings: 18+ readers only, smut, teasing, size difference, jeaousy, mentions of masturbation, choking, biting, marking, rough oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, multple orgasms, dirty talk, hair pulling, threats of violence

Sandor Clegane/ The Hound NSFW Alphabet (complete) - @brrahbrrahcharacterimagines

The Lamb and The Hound (complete) - @brrahbrrahcharacterimagines

Part 1 | Part 2

P1 Warnings: Light attempted rape mentioned (not by Sandor), Battle of Blackwater, fire mention

P2 Warnings: Sex, Dom(M)/Sub(F) dynamic, maybe a size kink, sharing a bed, boner?, cursing, loss of virginity, possessiveness, breeding kink, cum

Tormund Giantsbane

Cold Hands (complete) - @author-morgan

Summary: After the Battle of Castle Black, Jon needs someone to ensure their wildling prisoner makes it through the night. Because Tormund's the type you just want to rage fuck and I've been looking for an excuse to write for him since like 2017.

Lord Robin Arryn

Grown Up (complete) - @brrahbrrahcharacterimagines

Chapters

#game of thrones #got #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane #the hound x reader #the hound #x reader #smut #fluff #tormund giantsbane #tormund x reader #tormund giantsbane x reader #robbin arryn #x you smut #x you fluff #x you #x yn #x yn smut #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #fem reader #got x fem reader #female reader #character x you #character x reader #fic rec #fic recs #smut recs

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sandor Clegane x reader

Chapter 7

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 this chapter- SMUT, MINORS DNI this chapter is basically all smut, unprotected sex, p in v, size kink, praise kink (if you squint), aftercare, fluff, confession of feelings, deep pen., 18+ action, words, and themes. Fingering (fem reciv.), over stimulation, literally breathing the bed.

Kicking the door open to your shared chambers sandor carrying you to the bed placing you down. 

“I-im fine sandor really I'm alright.” you say 

“Was she trying to fucking kill you?” he huffs. 

“Shall i fetch the maester now milord?” joss asks. 

“No joss i'm alright.” you say he nods. 

“Away with you!” Sandor barks out at him. 

“Thank you joss you've been helpful.” you say and get up going over to your desk and grabbing a small pouch of coins handing it to him. 

“Th-thank you, milady but I cannot-” he begins. 

“Take it. Get a hot meal from the kitchen and rest earlier tell them I sent you.” you say. You bow before thanking you again and leaving closing the doors behind him. 

You turn back to Sandor who stands by the bed. 

“I'm alright. You have to stop looking at me like I've got a gash through my stomach.” you say and pull off what's left of the cut dress. It easily falls loose into a pile of fabric on the floor. You sigh in relief as you pull out your hair from its updo, happy to have it back down resting on your shoulders yet still keeping half of it up. 

“What's that? Another deadly gift for the queen?” he asks dreadfully, seeing the black and yellow dress still hanging on the outside of the wardrobe. 

“No. It's nothing…” you say shaking your head combing your fingers through your hair. He looks at you knowing it's nothing. You sigh and look down at the dress then turn to face him. 

“I was going to wear it tonight…I had put an order into the seamstress two days ago for the festival. I-it was supposed to be a surprise. Your house colors.” you say looking down. It's quiet as you look down at your feet. Also have taken off your shoes. 

“Put it on,” he says. You look up at him surprised he would respond. 

“Wh-what?” you ask. He nods and repeats his statement again. 

“Put it on. I'll help you.” he adds. You nod and walk to it, taking the dress off the hook and laying it on the bed. He walks to the other side where you stand. You pull off your underclothes now nude once again in front of your husband but he's more focused on wanting to see you in the dress than anything. 

You step into the dress, pulling up the sleeves. You feel his hands on your waist as he trails them to your back and ties up the back tightening it just enough to fit perfectly. You take a breath before turning around to face him. His eyes look down to you moving up and down your body at your perfect form in the dress. Never having been more turned on from a woman putting on clothes.

“Wait.” he says you frown looking up at him when his eyes meet your face. He reaches up his hand and moves behind your head pulling the last pin from your hair letting it all fall down your shoulders tucking a strand behind your ear. 

“there…I like your hair down better. You look beautiful.” he says. Pulling his hand away. 

“There's one more thing I wanted.” you say. 

“What?” he asks wanting nothing more than to please you in this moment. 

“You can so no…but. I wanted to dance with you. At least once but I'm afraid I've lost that chance.” you speak. 

“Mm.” he says, taking your hand leading you to the empty middle of the room as he pulls you into him, his hand resting on your lower back, your hand on his shoulder. 

You begin to sway despite the lack of music. The sounds of the crackling fire, and the light clinking of his metal armor such comforting sounds as you move through the space. Moving around as he dances with you, his eyes never taken off of yours, your heart skips a beat everytime his hand is placed back onto your waist. He pulls away for just a second to twirl you.

“Sandor.” you speak, you meet him back in the center. He holds you still looking down to you waiting for you to finish as you look into his brown eyes.

“I love you.” you say. It's quiet almost making you regret confessing but his lips against your treasures everything back into you. Your arms wrap around his neck. He pulls you up off the grown spinning around once. You know he wouldn't be able to say it back but just tell him to give you a lift. 

He places you back down on the ground and you take his hand reaching one hand to your back pulling the string out of the bow he he tied loosening the dress all while walking backwards twords the bed. 

He stops you before the dress loosens enough to fall from your body. Taking your hand in his he pulls it up the strap of his armor set. You give him a smile as you unclip them letting his armor down. You pull off the pieces, shoulders, chest, you take off his dagger and sword belt. He removes his boots to be equally as bare footed as you now leaving him in his pants and shirt. 

He takes one last look at you in the dress before pulling you to him reaching behind you to loosen the ties enough for it to slip off you once again leaving you naked. 

Wasting no time your lips are on each other's hands searching your body. You pull off his clothing and hastily help him remove his pants so he's just as nude as you. 

He picks you up with your legs wrapping around his waist as he lays you down on your back still kissing your lips. You push on his chest pushing him away about to protest. You flip him over so he's on his back and you climb on top of him, your cunt already slick with arousal as your folds brush against his hardened cock. 

He lets out a grunt at your eagerness, you having been so submissive the first time now being more confident. His hands searched up your waist to your breasts giving them a squeeze, his thumbs brushing over your budded nipples. He sits up kissing your jaw and neck for once your height is now level. Your hand presses against his chest unknowingly pressing against the scar he first told you not to touch. 

You look down as he lets out a pained grunt. 

“I'm sorry.” you say. He shakes his head looking at you moving his hand from your breast to your cheek, warmth spreading all over your body as he presses his lips against yours once more. He takes your wrist in his other hand and keeps your hands over the scar before you can pull away. 

On your own terms you move your other hand down his sheet reaching his cock grasping it he groans at the feeling of your touch against him. You raise up a bit, lining it up with yourself. You moved him, the tip sliding up and down your wet folds as you tried to stay steady, your other hand holding onto his shoulder as you centered him to you. Sinking down onto you, you watched as he disappeared into you. 

A moan leaving your lips as he stretches you back open for the second time. He groans deeply burying his face in the crook of your neck, the texture of his scar tickling your neck, a welcomed sensation.  and moved him inside. The pure pleasure you both felt against each other. Sinking down further you engulfs him fully, now having barely adjusted to his size he fills you so well. You place your hand on your stomach feeling the bulge he leaves. 

You move your hips letting out a squeaky moan as he feels so amazing in this position. He kisses your neck finding the sweet spot to make you weaken into him back into the submission state you were housed in the first time you two bedded. 

“F-fuck s-sandor..you feel so good.” you let out a stuttered voice. 

He lays back onto the plushness of the mattress. His hand gripping your hips he views the fading bruises left on your skin only wanting to make more, to mark you up as his. Pure lust blows in his eyes. You look better than the banquet spread early. 

His thrusts up into you getting a moaning yelp from your mouth. 

“Say it again,” he says roughly. 

“Sandor..” you paint already needing to cum just from him entering you and grinding a bit. 

He thrusts up into you again, pleasure surging through you. 

“I won't ask again, little fox.” he says. 

“Ngh..s-so good.” you speak. Prompting him to fuck up into you again this time not stopping. Your nails dig into his chest as he fucks you your hair falling over your face. Two more thrusts and he has you early cumming. 

Your walls spasm around his cock clenching down. Only making him chuckle as you've given out so quickly wanting to last long to please him. But just your presence pleases him. 

You flip you both over, cock still buried inside of you. He pulls your thigh up against his hip resting the rook of your knee on the bone as he thrusts into you. His moans and grunts mixed with your noises fill the room once again. His face hiding in the crook of your neck wanting to be closer to you than he already is. 

“I love you..fuck I love you.” you hear him mumble. If it weren't for the fact that his mouth is close to your ear you wouldn't have heard it. But youre so glad you did. The sound of those three little words go straight to your core as you squeeze down around him causing your tight cunt to suck him in further somehow when he's already balls deep. 

Just like before he pulls your leg higher on his body pushing intro to hitting right up against your special spot one hand now placed behind your head gripping the headboard the other now between your legs thumbing at your clit. The sensation of movement added causes your back to arch in pure pleasure. 

Your head falls to the side, your hands once all over his body fall to the sides of your head gripping the pillow and sheets. Your moans muffled as you bring your hand to your lips biting the back of it. The sound of wod cracking hits your ears before sandor covers you from the splinters of wood from the now broken headboard he broke. 

None of it matters with how much and how good hes fucking you. His thumb is still toying with your clit overstimulating you making you cum for a second time. your hands feel numb and your legs begin to shake. The way you're squeezing him sends him over the edge finally as he roughly thrusts down into you surly bruising your cervix as he cums into you filling you so much you can feel it. 

Your moans are muffled as his lips meet yours and a passionate kiss. The lingering touches and caresses. Before he pulls out away from you. Without having to ask he moves off you pulling you into him letting you know he will not be leaving for the night. 

—----

Nothing could be more perfect than the way you wake up. Sandor sleeps with his head against your chest listening to your heart beat. Your arms around him cradling his head into you his arms strong arms engulfing your waist and ass as your leg is draped over your chest. 

You look around the room not seeing your ladies in waiting who are usually annoyingly roaming around the room. You look at the door seeing that it's latched. Most likely Sandor who got up after you fell asleep and locked it to make sure they stayed out. 

You feel his hand move up your back before he speaks. 

“Stop moving.” he says, his eyes still closed. 

You didn't realize looking around the room was causing a lot of movement. 

“Good morning.” you say kissing his forehead and face. 

“Mm” he grumbles his morning voice somehow deeper than usual. 

He shifts from the position he's in reluctantly but only to move over you and press his lips against yours in a morning kiss. Pulling away he looks at you seemingly glowing to his vision. You get a look at his beautiful brown eyes before he pulls away from you sitting on the edge of the bed you crawl over to him wrapping around him his warmth paced back onto you in the cold room. Even though you're wearing his shirt which he’d put on you during the night.

“Don't go.” you say kissing his scared shoulder blade, a sword scar from a mishap during training. He places his hand on your arm that's around his neck looking down and kissing it before trying to pry you off him. 

“Nooo.” you whine he chuckles, shaking his head and finally succeeds in taking you off. He stands walking over to his scattered clothes before picking them up and beginning to dress. 

“Please sandor.” you whine. Moving to get out of bed but once you stand your legs immediately turn to water, as if you're a baby deer learning to stand for the first time. He hears a soft thud as you hit the ground with a little shriek. 

He turns to you seeing you grabbing the bed pulling yourself up chuckling to himself. 

“Didn't mean to disable you little fox,” he says. 

“That's alright, I don't need to walk today anyway.” you say brushing it off before standing again your legs stronger this time regaining strength. 

“Go back to bed,”  he says, gathering his armor pieces, setting them on the table by the burnt out fireplace. You watch him as he does this. You sit on the bed, legs crossed, his shirt more like a dress on your body. He Looks around for a shirt as if you’re not wearing it. A smile forms on your face as you watch your shirtless lover. 

He takes notice of you sitting and smiling at him. 

“What are you smiling about?” He huffs and notices you have his shirt. 

You shake your head, continuing to smile at him.

“nothing.” You answer. 

“You find my struggle amusing?” He says walking to you making you giggle and scoot back on the bed. He crawls over to you and you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him to you as he kisses your face and neck. 

“I’m gonna need this back now.” He says gruffly. 

“Mmhm.” You answer by pulling him close to you. 

His hands move, hiking up the shirt to your waist. Before you pull him close enough to kiss him. He happily returns it. As his large hand rests under your breast giving it a squeeze causing a gasp put out you breaking the kiss allowing him to pull the shirt up and off of you leaving you naked to his view. 

He gets up and off you walking over to the rest of his armor pieces as he places the shirt on himself, seeming morphing to fit him perfectly. 

You whine now wanting him. He puts on the armor you once took off. 

“Come on little fox don’t act like that.” He says clipping the last of his armor on. 

“What am I doing while you're gone? Relieve myself on the pillows?” You huff. 

“Such crude words.” He grunts. 

“Bad luck to leave your wife wanting and nude. Many things could happen: she could invite a man over clouded by her judgme-“ you're cut off with his hand around your neck pulling you to him a giggle leaving your lips. 

About to speak he decides not to and leaves you with a deep kiss. You shift standing on your knees, his hand tracking down your waist one to the front farther down, swiping your folds, his thick digit entering you, making you gasp out gripping onto his armored shoulders as you moan out of the kiss. 

He pushes in a second thick finger thrusting them in and out of you, his thumb firmly pressed against your clit. His other hand firmly grips your hip keeping you in place. His eyes never leave yours.

“Ngh…s-sandor.” You moan you only promoting him to grab your ass making you moan out as his fingers sink deeper fucking you over and over pressing against the spongy spot against you. Your walls clench around his digits, knees giving out as you cum. You grab onto him wherever you can as he rides out your high.

Pulling his hand away from you You pant at the residual over stimulation. 

“You speak like that again you won’t be able to walk the castle halls for the next day and half.” He says leaning down pulls the sheets over you and around you. giving you one last kiss he turns and walks out making sure not to wipe you off his hand wearing you like a prize for the day. Your hand maidens who were waiting outside rush in making you sigh. 

they stop in thier tracks looking around the room at the scattered garments from you, the broken bed and you wrapped in the bed sheet, hair messed.

Chapter 8 here

#sandor clegane smut #sandor the hound clegane #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane x reader smut #Sandor clegane smut #Sandor smut #Game of thrones smut #sandor clegane x princess reader smut #got x princess reader #princess reader

[bigdog-23]

The princess and her hound

Info chapter

Ok so this is a Sandor x poc princess reader Here’s the characters 

Just a idea of what y/n looks like she’s 28 and I wanted to give her and her parents powers kinda like the powers the owl house characters have

So her powers are like a mix of plant powers and abomination powers from the owl house and she’s the oldest daughter of the king and queen of the snow lands (I’m not that creative) and she kinda acts like a mix of kiri and neytiri from avatar you’ll see that soon also she’s 5’12

Sandor clegane 😍

We all know the king the hound the daddy😍Hes 37 in this book and I’m sure y’all know him by heart so yeah and he’s 6’8

M/n = mother name

She’s the queen of the snow lands and her powers are like kinda like Elsa she’s 55 and 5’8

F/n = father name

The king of the snow lands he’s 50 and he’s powers are like poison ivy and he’s 6’4

Now here’s the background of the story

This takes place after Joffrey becomes king and before ned’s death the reader and her parents come to Joffrey to give him a peace offering to keep the peace between their kingdoms and they stay there for a while but Joffrey being a ass thinks he can scare the reader by making Sandor her bodyguard but let’s be real who is scared of Sandor anyways that’s all the info I got so far

#game of thrones #game of thrones au #x reader #sandor x reader #sandor the hound clegane #sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane x reader smut

[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

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[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 6

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, smut (piv, emotional sex, praise kink), enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, baby fever, fluff!, typos, etc.

A/N: i said i'd end this on p5 but i think i'll be ending at p7 HAHHAH lol. originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @minttea07 @fluffpudel @j3nn-1 @jelsasnowflakes1

"My lady," followed by high pitched barking made me turn around from where I sat in the garden.

Maester Yannick was walking over to me, with three puppies on his trail. He lifts his robe when he feels one of the critters nip at it. He hisses at them and tells them not to bite. Rose barks and takes it as a challenge.

I chuckle and shush her, raising a finger as I bend down to reinforce the discipline.

Rose looks at me then scurries off.

I straighten up on the bench as Yannick sits beside me. We both then turn to the soldiers in the making, training across the grounds of Brown Wood.

The Hound barks at them when they get their positions wrong.

"He is lovely today," Yannick tells me.

I turn to him and chuckle, but nod nonetheless.

He continues observing my husband, "he's been training long, hasn't he?"

"Mmm. Perhaps a couple hours," I look back at Sandor, "why? Do you think it is bad for his wounds?"

"I think it is bad for you," he looks at me.

I pull my head back, "me?"

The maester stands, "you are wasting precious time. Both of you are in good conditions," he links his hands together, "for the good of your house, it would be wise for you to be more... vigilant about producing heirs."

I feel my face drop and burn.

"As you know, my lady, the herbs I make for you are not cheap. It would be a shame to put them to waste due to a lack of effort."

I clear my throat and turn away from him.

Maester Yannick nods, "which reminds me, I will go and fetch you some tea right now."

I watch him walk away.

Once he was gone, my attention is averted back to Sandor. In truth, now more than ever has his hound persona been more apparent to me. Besides his fierceness, his snarling, his grit, the way he bared his teeth and howled at everyone, I could see his loyalty, his need to do good by the people in his life, his protectiveness, especially when it came to fighting, and his warmth.

I begin to think about Daisy. I turn to my side and watch as the pups begin to wreck the garden with their paws.

I find myself thinking about that night... that night when he said he loved me.

I rub my belly, not liking the way my stomach churned at my string of thoughts.

I watch as Sandor straightens up a boy, who was about to fall flat on his face, with one hand. He shakes his head at the child and says he can't fight if he's fighting himself too.

I imagine him speaking the same way to our son.

It was a horrible mistake. As quickly as I thought of it, I then remember telling him to give me a child by another woman.

I've set him free. He does not belong to me; in truth, he never did.

I quickly stand and wipe my face.

This was no longer leisure, this was torture.

I quickly run inside, retreating to my bedroom. Once I am there, I takes my shoes off, plop on my bed, and stare up at my ceiling. I look at the cobwebs in the distant corners and I wonder why I felt like crying but had no tears to shed. I lie there in silence, wishing nothing but to waste away.

I lift my head up from the sheets and turn to the door when I hear it open. I immediately stand and brush my skirts, "Sandor."

The feel of the cold floor on my bare feet send a shiver down my spine.

Sandor cautiously looks at me, "is everything alright?"

"Mmm?" I raise my brows, "what- why do you ask?"

"You ran inside and left your babes in the garden"

My lips part at his words. My hand instinctively comes to my belly.

"Pups," he raises a hand, "I meant pups. I didn't mean--"

Sandor is cut off by the voice of maester Yannick calling my name as he knocked on my door. Sandor opens the door for him and the old man enters, smiling when he sees the two of us. He is about to hand me the tea but then decides otherwise and puts it on my vanity.

He turns to Sandor, "I am pleased you decided to attend to your wife. Her fertility herbs are slowly being depleted. I was beginning to fear it would be for naught."

I grow frigid.

With that, the maester nods and exits, "please do enjoy each other's company."

The sound of the door closing leaves me red in the face. I lock eyes with Sandor then look away, clearing my throat. I flinch when he calls out my name.

I turn back and rub my arms, "yes... husband?"

"I didn't come here for that," he mutters, raising a hand cautiously.

My chest tightens. Of course not. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off before I could make a sound.

"I came to check if you're alright," he slowly steps forward.

I tense and nod, "I am well."

I feel my heart race when he takes another step towards me.

"Y-you needn't worry about me."

"I always worry about you," he mutters as he walks closer.

My words catch in my throat, "what?"

"Let me help you," he speaks, now only a few steps away from me.

My heart is pounding. I step back slowly, "h-help?"

"In the way only a man can," he lets out a heavy breath.

My calves hit the bed. I stop in my tracks and stand frozen. The Hound is now looking down at me. I am too overwhelmed by his presence to do anything else but stare.

The next thing I know, my gaze is drawn downward as he sits on the bed and peers up at my form.

"If you want a child from me," he whispers, "I'll give you one by no other woman but you." 

I look at him, heart in my mouth, body burning. I scratch my fingers and nod at his words.

Sandor sighs, "I need to hear you say it."

"I-" I shakily speak, "I want a child," I face him, "a child by you... my lord."

His brows knit.

My breath hitches when he touches my waist.

I can hear his heavy breathing as he whispers, "Sandor. Please."

I gulp as his palm rubs slowly across my belly. The action makes my skin prickle with goosebumps. My hand comes atop his. I oblige, "Sandor."

He gently tugs me in between his legs and my breath nearly escapes me. He rests his hands on my hips then pulls me in, sinking his face into my side. My ribs rattle with how quick my pulse was.

Sandor inhales deeply, "gods, you smell good."

I feel my body burn, "i-it's lavender oil."

I squeak when he pulls me down onto his lap. He cages me against him, my back flush against his chest. He sinks his face into my neck and slowly draws in a breath. His arms snake around me as he hotly speaks, "it's you, my pretty squirrel."

I feel his hands slowly lift my skirts up. My hands latch onto his arm that was still around my belly.

"Be calm, my wife, I cleaned up before coming here, in case I had to wipe your tears."

I make a sound as he knocks his nose into my jaw and exposes one of my legs to him. 

"I don't like it when you're upset."

My breath hitches, "I-I'm not upset."

"Good."

Sandor feels the goosebumps on my skin when his hand makes contact with my bare thigh. He shushes me as he rubs and kneads my flesh. I whimper and begin to squirm when his hand hikes up my inner thigh.

His fingers touch my clothed center. He breathes hotly against the pulse of my neck, "I'm going to take this off, mmm?"

I gulp and nod slowly at his words.

I maneuver with him when his hands come under my skirts to rid me of my smallclothes. He doesn't like the space that is created between us and rips me back into him. He ruts his hips into mine to add to his point.

I whine when Sandor's right hand rubs into my heat.

"Fuck," he hisses, "you've worked yourself up over nothing."

I make a louder noise when he prods his fingers into my pulsing entrance. I can feel his fingers slide with ease against my warm folds. I instinctively grip his arm when he sinks into me.

Sandor's other arm, in turn, tightens around me, "you can take it. You've taken more than my fingers, beautiful."

I whimper when he sinks another finger into me and begins to pump in and out. My breathing grows heavier and I throw my head back on his shoulder as he moves into me.

I feel his beard scratch into my neck. I feel his teeth graze lightly into my skin. His fingers languidly move in and out of me, even as I clench my thighs together. He makes no move to part them, and in truth, it doesn't hinder his movements at all.

I feel his tongue dart out on my neck, "I want to taste you."

I slowly lift my head from his shoulder just as he pulls his hand away from my thighs and brings his fingers into his mouth. I feel sobered by his action, taken aback by how filthy it was yet how eagerly he did it.

The next thing I know, he pulls back and lets my body fall in a space between his thighs. He quickly undoes his trousers. After, he pushes me onto my feet, and grips my hips. He rather impatiently rips up my skirts and I feel my thighs shake when he grips my bare flesh.

He pulls me back down on him, and I mewl when I feel his hardened length slip clumsily between my thighs, not yet entering me. I settle on him; the sensation of his clothes on my skin makes my belly roll.

"Fuck," he growls, as my thighs instinctively clamp around him. Sandor is unable to withhold the bucking of his hips.

When he does this, pleasure, crackling like embers, tingle up my body.

"Open up," he hisses, one hand coming between my legs, "I have to be inside you. I have to come inside, have to come inside your weeping cunny."

"Sandor," I whine as I slowly part my legs.

"I know, pretty squirrel. You're so worked up, for me," he breathes against my ear then nips at my lobe, "so fucking eager."

A drawn out whine escapes my lips when he sheathes himself into me.

He wastes no time in moving. I end up squeaking as he braces me against him and firmly thrusts upward into me.

My cries grow louder as his arms tighten beneath my breasts. I feel his hand knead one breast, but it doesn't last very long.

I am throttled onto my chest and pressed down on the sheets. Sandor lifted me up like I was nothing and adjusted me on the edge of the bed.

I'm barely on my tiptoes, as most of my weight was shifted on my spine from of how my husband was hoisting me up to cater to himself.

His movements quickly pick up the pace, and our position becomes reminiscent of the time he had me like this once before, only this time, his one hand was rubbing my scarred hip and he was much more vocal.

"Look at you, all bent over and mine," he groans.

I nails dig into the sheets.

"I'm gonna fill you up. You're going to be so fucking full of me."

I squeal into the sheets. The idea drives me wild. I plead into the bed but I don't think he hears it.

Just as I felt something begin to build in me, he slows.

I open my eyes, not realizing I had closed them as Sandor drops one of my hips. I squeak when I feel him grab my shoulder and slowly turn me on my back.

My jaw drops; I breathe heavily through my mouth. Sandor looks down on me as his hands grip my sides. He pushes me upward and presses my legs by my ribs

He slowly thrusts into me, hands working their way across my body. He rubs my thighs, my belly, my breasts. His brows furrow, "fuck. So fucking soft and warm."

He massages my breasts then works his way up to my shoulders. His one hand rubs my neck before clutching my jaw. His other hand slides back down my hips. I whine when his thumb rubs circles around my sensitive nub. It makes my toes curl.

He sighs, "so fucking beautiful."

I whimper when his other thumb swipes my lips. I find myself licking at it. It makes him groan and buck into me faster.

I push my head back and arch my spine, "fuck- Sandor."

Both his hands land on my hips. He digs his nails into my flesh and begins to move deeper. Eventually, he sinks one hand down by the side of my head for support. My hands latch onto his hips.

"Come for me, pretty girl," he groans, "I'm not gonna last much longer."

I tug at his clothes.

"Be a good girl and come all over my cock, mmm. I want to feel you tighten around me-- get all messy and wet and loud and," he gives deliberate thrusts, "so fucking beautiful."

I whine, "Sandor, I want- I want to-"

I begin to tighten and shake against him. My legs wrap around him and my hands cling onto him for dear life. I find it futile to conceal my sounds, as I cannot find the strength to shut my mouth as I ride the feeling of bliss.

With a loud cuss, Sandor rams into me as deeply as he can. His movements are rough and slow. Both of his hands secured on my waist as he spills his seed into me.

I can feel him throb and can feel myself dripping with warmth.

Sandor takes his time, really drawing out the feeling before slowly coming to a halt. He lets out a final moan when he does stop then takes a deep breath.

I look at him as he closes his eyes and straightens up. My body burns when he looks down at me through hooded eyes and rubs my body again. He enjoys rubbing my breasts the most.

My hands come to his arms, and that seems to stop him.

I am about to tell him not to stop, but he speaks before I can, "wrap your legs round me."

In truth, I didn't have to do anything as he wraps my legs around himself and picks me up in his arms. I hook my feet around each other and am careful not to touch his blistered back as my hands go to his shoulders.

Sandor crawls up the bed with me clinging onto him; I feel the strength in his muscles as he moves. He sets me down on the pillows. He arranges one under my head and brings one beside me.

He looks at me for a moment then whispers, "I'm going to pull away now."

He waits for me to respond before doing anything.

In truth, the thought of him pulling away from me makes my body ache with sadness, but I slowly nod anyway.

I close my eyes as Sandor gently draws away from me. My emotions immediately overcome me in my vulnerable state. I rub my eyes when I feel tears build behind my lids. Sandor fixes my skirt and gathers my legs together. I feel him take the pillow beside me and stuff if bellow my bum.

"This will help keep my spend from dripping out."

His explanation makes my body burn.

I feel Sandor shuffle beside the bed and I hear him fixing his clothing.

I clench my jaw, dreading what I knew exactly was to come next.

I open my eyes when he calls my name. I look at him pathetically, noticing how his skin glowed with sweat, the last evidence that he was ever in me beyond his untucked shirt.

He reaches out to me and I really don't want to take his hand knowing he'll leave me after, so I don't.

I have no idea why he still grabs my hand. The action feels like a betrayal. He rubs my knuckles before kissing them. I chew my lip, feeling wronged over the fact he has never kissed my lips and probably never will.

"I will be leaving now," he mutters.

His words gut me, as always. 

I rip my hand out of his and turn away from him, "very well."

Sandor knits his brows at the sharp withdrawal. He was gentle was he not? Still, he's being turned away.

His mouth goes dry. He slowly steps back, "I..."

I turn my body away from him. I draw in a deep breath and try to make my voice as even as possible, "thank you, Sandor."

Sandor flinches. He steps back some more, "I-I'll bring your dogs here for company."

I chuckle dryly. Company. My voice breaks, "I'm tired."

Sandor's mouth twitches. He backs all the way up to the door, "I'll let you rest then."

I cover my face with my arm and hum in agreement, not trusting myself to speak anymore.

The moment I hear the click of the door, I begin to sob. I whine as his words replay in my head. How could he tell me such things, call me beautiful and say he wants me, then leave me right after? How could he touch me like that then want nothing to do with me?

I pull the pillow from underneath my head and wail into it.

Sandor, who couldn't find it in himself to step away from the door, decides not to walk back in when he hears the crying. His belly curdles with self-loathing. He feels like he's going to choke because of how hurt the noise sounded, nevermind how lovely it was seconds ago; it meant for nothing.

He walks away trying to figure out where he went wrong. He relives every touch, every sound in his memory. His eyes water when he comes to the dreadful realization it must have been horrible being with him. He forced his wretched looks onto an unwilling witness.

He gulps as he sniffles and wipes his face in frustration. He feels like walking into the forest, never to be seen again, but then he steps out to the garden and hears small barking sounds. He looks at the three pups, playing with the boys, who should have been training, and feels his heart twist.

He finds himself imagining what the scene would've been like if Daisy was here... if his pretty squirrel-- he shuts the thought away.

I knock on Sandor's office door and enter when he tells me to come in.

He looks up, does a double take, then immediately stops doing whatever it was he was doing. He clears his throat, "Lady Clegane."

His words pierce through me. He's never called me that before. I close the door and walk towards him, "Lord husband. Good morrow to you. Where is Andrew?"

His shoulders tense, "he... should be here any minute."

I nod as I halt in front of his desk, "he has gotten good enough at reading and balancing coin, I hope?"

Sandor sighs, "yes."

I notice the crumbs on his beard, then I notice a plate on his desk. He must have broken fast here. I fidget with my fingers and wipe my chin, hoping he would get the message. He doesn't. I decide not to note on it and simply get to the point, "maester Yannick said your wounds have dried up, and that if you liked, you could go on your rounds again."

Sandor nods and straightens in his chair, "I think I'll start once I'm confident in the bloke balancing our coin."

I nod slowly and link my hands together, "alright," I shift in my spot and turn to the door.

I look back at him and feel my body burn under his scrutiny. I offer a smile, "that is all I wanted to say," I rub my hands together, "-wanted to check on you."

I gasp when he jumps out of his chair.

I clutch my chest and stare at him. He had an arm raised and reached out to me. It dawns on me he said something but it was too quick for me to catch.

I release a breath, "pardon?"

Sandor lowers his hand, rolls his shoulders back, and clears his throat, "I... I asked how you're doing."

It takes me a few moments to realize the meaning of his words. I shift and my spot and rub my chest. I feel my neck burn when he further clarifies his question.

"Yesterday, when we... bedded, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

I draw out a deep breath and smile softly, "you were... gentle with your touches."

Sandor is unsatisfied.

I aimlessly look around, "and, anyway, I am not as fragile as you think."

He purses his lips and tilts his head. He takes a moment before speaking, and when he does, he does so hesitantly, "I was afraid I made my pretty wife weep again."

I instinctively let out a laugh, but it was clearly unamused and pained. I feel like I was being scorched alive when I look at him looking at me. I shake my hands, suddenly in denial, "no, I was quite satisfied!"

Sandor's eyes widen a fraction.

Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. What am I saying?

He blinks twice and wipes his mouth. Finally his crumbs fall off. He mutters, "that's... good."

I release my final chuckle. He turns to his desk, fixes some things, then looks back to me. He looks like he means to smile but he doesn't, "I'm glad."

He slowly sits down afterwards.

I feel like I'm being weighed down by anchor.

That was it. That was the conversation.

Sandor is no longer looking at me. He shuffles the paper into a file and I slowly begin to feel the air around us thicken.

He sets the parchment down and darts his eyes to me. He purses his lips again and I catch the way his face twitches. He opens his mouth and slowly points to the door, "if that's all... I would not keep you."

I don't know why I laugh again, but I do. It's not even funny. I feel like being stabbed would have been better, more amusing at this point. I curtsy at him and shuffle backwards, "of course. I do not mean to keep you either."

Sandor feels sick. He clenches his fists and turns to his desk. He breathes in deeply, trying not to rile himself up any more than he already was. Gods knew he would use all his strength to keep this room locked.

I walk towards the door and turn the knob. I feel a wave of tears threatening to spill, and I slap my mouth when a squeak leaves me.

Sandor is immediately alerted. He looks up and pushes himself on the edge of the seat, "what?"

I turn to the ground and wipe my face. I take two seconds for myself then turn to him. I cover up with a chuckle, "I said... y-your beard."

Sandor immediately rubs his beard.

I chuckle louder, trying to convince myself that I actually found it funny, "you have crumbs on your beard."

Sandor looks at me like I grew another head.

I laugh enough that I actually start laughing at myself.

When I stop, the silence is loud.

Sandor clears his throat and cautiously asks, "you find that funny?"

My stomach drops when I see the red tinge of his ears. I walk up to his side and shake my head, "wait, no- I- I didn't mean it like that."

Sandor shakes his head and offers me a quick and small smile, "it's fine. I just wasn't expecting that from you," he looks back to his desk, "anyway, I'm used to it."

I feel like my entrails were being grinded.

A line forms in his brows, "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before."

"I wasn't laughing at you!" I whimper under my breath. The air in my lungs begin to catch in my throat as I exhale, "I was just- I ju-"

Sandor turns to me, face slipping when he catches my teary eyes.

He stands and takes my shoulders.

I blink my tears away and smile in an attempt to calm myself. I am glad I do not shed a tear. I speak through a loud breath, "I'm just nervous when I'm around you!"

Sandor immediately releases me. He sighs through his nostrils, "scared, you mean."

I shake my head and take his shoulders, "nervous."

The Hound seizes up like there was a knife to his neck. I take a moment to look at him and pull back.

I cannot deny it hurt when he immediately steps away from me.

I really should have left at this point, but my mouth had a mind of its own. I furrow my brows and give him an earnest look, "I can trim your beard for you."

He steps back one last time, then looks at me as if I now had three heads.

I realize my mistake, "if-if you want me to. I'm not saying you should, I'm just offering to-"

"You want to do that for me?"

I turn to stone. I look around nervously, "mmm... o-only if you'd have it... ... my lord."

Sandor's face twitches. He sighs and slumps forward. He furrows his brows, "you'd be staring at my face the whole time."

I watch him as he rummages through his things.

My stomach rolls again and I step back, "ah... I see."

Sandor stops to look at me.

"If you do not feel comfortable, I will not..."

My words run dry when he pulls out shears. I watch him as he straightens up. He grips the tool in his hand, "it's you I'm worried about."

I look up at him, not knowing what to say.

"I don't mean to scare yo-"

"I'm not scared of you," I mutter.

Sandor stares at me. After a moment, he slowly takes my hand and hands me the shears, "maybe you should be."

My chest pounds at fleeting touch.

I cut his beard in the garden, as I didn't want to make a mess in his office.

He sits on the bench there.

The breeze blows at both our hair.

"You needn't touch me so gently, girl," he says, "it will take a lot of you to hurt me."

I do not change the manner in which I touch his cheek. I can feel Sandor looking at me, but I do not avert my attention away from his beard, "just because you do not hurt easily doesn't mean I cannot be gentle with you, Hound."

The Hound reaches out to my thighs when my foot rolls on a rock. I barely even fidget, but, still, he holds me in place to keep me from a potential fall. He does not release me. I gulp when I feel his thumb rub my skirt.

"You can hurt me if you like," he says.

I pull back and furrow my brows, "would you like that?"

He grinds his lower lip in his teeth. He debates for a moment and I decide to snip his mustache. I shush him when he tries to speak. He purses his lips tightly.

A moment passes with just the sound of cutting.

"I wouldn't want to cut your lips off," I shift in front of him, still ever so aware of his touch of my thighs, "you still need them to kiss."

I pull away to check if his mustache was straight. I notice his expression, dumbfounded, and continue snipping. I sigh, "that was a jest."

I pull away and again and move to the other side. Sandor still keeps his hands on me. He looks at me as I gently move his head.

I add, "I'm quite funny actually."

He chuckles lowly.

It makes my heart flutter.

He smiles, "oh, I don't doubt it, little girl."

I flatten my lips into a line, unsure if he was serious or not. I trim the hair by his jaw.

"You must like kissing then."

I freeze in my spot. I stop what I was doing, then continue, "what do you mean?"

He pulls his hands away. I watch him link them together and rest them on his lap. He shrugs, "you thought of kissing."

"Do you like kissing?"

I place a hand on my hip. He turns to me and shrugs again, "s'fine."

I furrow my brows and mimic his shrug, "well, you've never kissed me, so I wouldn't really know, would I?"

"You've never kissed a man before?"

"No," I impatiently respond, "I've kissed you, but you did not kiss me back," I take a few last cuts off his beard, "on our wedding day, remember?"

I see Sandor's look of disbelief when I finish and brush him off. Specks of hair fly off with the wind.

"You never kissed a little lord in secret as a little girl?"

"Only a big lord," I make a face, "as according to you I still am a little girl."

He stands from where he sat and peers down at me.

I purse my lips and cross my arms. I shrug, "point taken."

His brown eyes glimmer with confusion. I find myself raising my brows. Just as he is about to speak-

"MILORD, MILADY!"

We turn to the three young men walking over to us. I recognize them as Sandor's training apprentices. They push each other as I turn and smile at them.

"Good morn', lady!" Harry says, bowing exaggeratedly at me, "your dress is very rambunctious."

I furrow my brows at his words and find myself chuckling, "uhhh, thank you?"

Sandor raises his brows and curls his lips.

Daniel slaps Harry behind the head, "YOU MUG, D'YA KNOW WHAT YOU SAID, EVEN?"

Harry hisses and shoves Daniel, "DON'T HIT ME!"

Daniel gets shoved again when he incidentally elbows Richard, "OI, WATCH IT!"

The boys begin to quarrel. 

I step back before they can accidentally hit me, in turn, knocking my back into Sandor's.

"Enough!" the Hound barks, making the three brothers, or at least they acted like that, stop and turn to him.

My eyes widen at the sound of the Hound telling the boys off. I watch each of them tense as their Lord Clegane goes on a whole speech about biting off more than they can chew, and that, "if you lot want to act all tough around me, know I'll knock all three of your egg-heads with my hands tied."

I turn to the Hound, "Sandor."

He lets out a deep breath then eyes the three before him, "fuck off."

The boys immediately scram.

I bend over and grip my hips as I catch my breath. Lucy laughs at me as she beckons the puppies over with a stick. They come running over then she throws the stick for them to chase.

I huff, "these pups will be the death of me."

Lucy snorts, "and here I thought you wanted children."

I glare at her as the three small dark furred creatures begin to chase her around the garden as she runs. I call out in offence, "I do!"

Lucy runs over to me, "well, don't you know babes are far worse that this!" 

She giggles when she grabs my shoulders and uses me as a shield for the dogs. Though I was still winded, I laugh with her as the puppies prance around me. I grab Lucy's arm and begin to wrangle with her, "at least my babes will learn to speak. These pups know no sense!"

Lucy pushes me forward, encouraging me, "no, no, go on, s'your time to run, milady!"

I whine, "I really can't, Lucy."

"Oh, come on, lovie, you used to be full of energy! You're actin' as old as maester Yannick."

I hold back a laugh and shoot Lucy a look.

She shoots one back, "what? Did I lie?"

"Girls."

Lucy and I stop and turn to whom spoke. Sandor looks at us the way he always did, scrutinizing and serious.

I straighten up and nod in regard, "my lord."

Sandor sighs and looks away with annoyance. Wind blows his hair, adding effect to his expression. He looks down when the puppies begin to run towards him. They stand on their hind legs, pant, and bark. I swear I saw his exterior break into fondness.

But then he looks at me and it's all gone, "this came for you." He holds out a letter to me between his fingers, "I don't recognize the house sigil."

I walk up to him, smoothening my skirt out, then take the letter. I look at the wax seal for only a second then open the letter.

Sandor watches me raise my brows. He chuckles.

Lucy watches Sandor smile softly before purposefully frowning.

I look up at my husband, "it's from house Alistair."

Sandor's face scrunches up, "never heard of it."

I huff and delay my response to stop the puppies from chewing at the Hound's trousers. Sandor watches as I do this and gently shakes the puppies away. He takes my arm, preventing me from bending down, "I don't mind. They're just pups."

I give him a look, "if I don't stop them now when they're tiny, nothing will stop them when they're big."

Sandor watches as I sternly tell off the puppies and shoo them away. He chuckles at it, but then freezes when Lucy chuckles as well. The two make eye contact. Sandor doesn't have time to react.

"Cedric."

He turns to me, face contorting, "what?"

The puppies run off and Lucy runs along with them. I continue to explain, "Cedric is from House Alistair. You know, the lord that gave us a place to stay. You called him pretty bo-"

"I remember the fucker," he snaps.

I tense.

The Hound's nostrils flare, "what does he want?"

Suddenly, the letter in my hand feels heavy. I shrug, "he's invited us to his nameday celebration."

Sandor scoffs, "you mean he's invited you."

I release a frustrated huff when he begins to walk away. I follow after him and open the letter. I clear my throat and read aloud, "Fair greetings to Brown Wood, the home of House Clegane. May this letter find you in good spirits and health."

Sandor rolls his eyes as he walks back inside. He makes no haste, but I do, in order to keep up with him. I continue, "Seven days from now, I, Cedric Alistair, will be celebrating my--"

"I don't fucking care, little girl," he stops in his tracks and turns to me.

I nearly collide with him, but I gladly don't. I purse my lips and continue anyway, skipping to the part that holds my point, "if the Lord and Lady Clegane be so courteous in taking time out of their day to attend my feast, I would gladly-"

"Do you want to go, squirrel?"

I look up at him, blinking at the sight of his stern expression. I have to say, the omission of the word pretty for his petname made it feel... wrong. I clutch the letter by my belly, "he hosted us, me, Lucy... Daisy, even you, when we had nowhere to go. I think it only proper to attend his nameday to show appreciation and respect."

Sandor's eye twitches. He looks away and sighs.

I chew my lower lip, "he was kind to us, Sandor. I only mean to-"

"Fine," he cuts me off, "but if he touches you," he walks off, "I'm going to kill him."

His statement make my stomach churn. I cannot for the life of me understand what the intent of his words are. I chase after him again, "what if he asks me to dance with him?"

Sandor chuckles dryly, "a fine reason to chop him up."

He stops when I grab his arm. He looks at my hand on his bicep then gives me a look as I say, "you cannot kill him."

Sandor places his hand atop mine, "then don't fucking dance with him."

He squeezes my hand but it is not rough at all. It's gentle and extremely warm. He doesn't even try to pry my grip off, in fact, it's like he was tightening it on hm. My lips part and my body begins to burn.

I then realize when he was close enough for me to feel his breathing that he had been leaning in. I catch the way his eyes dart down to my mouth. I find myself slowly pressing my lips together.

I close my eyes when Sandor comes close to my cheek. I swear I felt my heart leap into my mouth when he pressed his face against mine.

He draws in a deep breath then sighs, "have you ever seen a hound share?"

The silence between us is deafening.

"Hmm?" he hums.

I open my mouth but nothing but mindless sounds leave me.

"I don't even think your pups do that."

My breath catches in my throat when he I feel his beard and his lips press gently against the crook of my neck.

Then the next moment, he releases me and pulls away like nothing happened.

We stare at each other for the longest second of my life. I feel like I'm on fire. What's worse is that I don't think he realizes just how affected I am, or actually... maybe it was good he couldn't tell I was dying inside.

"Still," he nods, "a dog is a dog and I will do as my master commands."

I feel light headed when he walks away.

I clutch my belly and walk to the nearest surface for support. I rub my neck, wondering if that really just happened.

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[enveine]

when doves cry - s. clegane (teaser)

“Sandor. Please, listen to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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