Sandor Clegane X Reader - Tumblr Posts

(18+) More Than Our Servitude - Part II

NSFW | (TV!) Sandor Clegane x Fem!Reader | Requested | Oneshot turned Multi-Part

Trigger warning: Canon-typical violence, sexism, the implied threat of sexual assault, the reader becomes a victim of physical assault. The reader is wounded: cuts. Contains explicit scenes of sexual nature.

Summary: Your journey with the Hound continues. It doesn't matter how fast Stranger takes the both of you. The Hound cannot outride his past. Emotions reach a peak after a dangerous encounter, and you do not escape unscathed.

Author's Note: I've taken some liberties with the canon material, but nothing that changes the plot line of the show or established canon from either source material. Spending time with the Hound should make you able to get to know him better, right? ☺️

It looked wrong. After days of riding past deserted farms, standing like blackened skeletons with their fields scorched, the small village in the middle of the forest felt like a dream.

"Trust me."

Clegane shifted in the saddle. "Not happening."

"You are the famed Hound. People would recognize you. Me? I could be anyone, just a wanderer."

"Think it normal for lone women to travel the countryside?" he countered.

"More so with the Riverlands burning," you answered and looked up at the face locked in a scowl. "I can do this. We need to eat."

Clegane nodded towards the village. "None in there would dare bother you if I'm with. We'll be far gone when someone finds out there's gold on our heads."

"Your head," you corrected. "Isn't it better if we don't leave any trail, be a needle in a haystack?"

The hand at the small of your back made your heart race. How of all things was this what finally-

"Wait!" 

A push, gentle yet firm. 

Sliding down, Stranger whinnied out as your feet hit the ground. 

"Get then," Clegane spat. "Grown tired of your bickering. Would serve me right to take off while you're gone and be rid of you."

You had already begun to unfasten the empty satchel, shaking out the crumbs left by the rations, and fished out the leather pouch with his coin from the saddlebag.

"Then you would be hungry, penniless, and alone," you replied. "If you wish I could remain silent from now on."

Clegane's mouth twitched, pressing to a thin line, and for a brief moment, something else flickered in those angry eyes of his. With a last smile and a curtsy, you turned on your heel and began the walk down the hill, counting his silver.

There were necessities: salt, hard biscuits, and hopefully cured meat. Perhaps the tavern even had a cheap warm meal, it wouldn't serve well as a ration, but tonight it would do both of you good. Looking out over the village, fruit trees dotted its surroundings. Plums, apples, and pears. In one of the fields grew bundles of green turnips. Those usually were cheap. Roasted with some herbs, salt, and butter, even the Hound wouldn't be kept frowning. Wine, you couldn't forget the wine.

The soft thuds of hooves against dirt made you peer back. Clegane didn't offer you as much as a glance, his dark eyes fixed on the tavern. Keeping to silence, you only squinted up at the man.

"Don't trust it," Clegane pushed through gritted teeth.

Freshly baked bread, mulled wine, and hot cider. All pleasant scents one could expect from a tavern, even unpleasant ones of vomit and urine wouldn't have made you frown as Clegane pushed the door open. It wasn't wholly unfamiliar. Thick and musky, the scent of bodies in heat was soon joined by its sounds. 

The stalls that ran along the walls of the tavern had been fitted with drapes. Moany breaths and pleads left those closed, while women laid on the seats of the ones still open, watching you both, their dresses nothing more than loosly draped cloth tied with string at their waists.

A plump older woman stood by the bar, her breasts barely fitting in the bodice and when her eyes landed on you the smile on her lips grew a bit warmer.

"Looking for a night's stay?" she asked.

"Food," Clegane only said and signed for you to step forward. 

"I-I thought this was a tavern," you stammered.

"Oh it was, love, but it is what it is," she replied, shrugging. "Better to entertain soldiers this way than for them to think of a way themselves, no? Their games can be rather harsh. So what shall you and your husband have? Got some pie, no meat I'm afraid, but it'll get you filled up."

You glanced up at Clegane but he gave no tell of approval. 

"He's not my husband." 

"A contender?" the woman giggled.

"None of your concern," Clegane rasped and the smile on the inkeeper's face grew tense.

"He's helping me travel to Highgarden, I have family there." And hopefully that lie would send any persuers in the wrong direction.

"Where you travelling from?" she asked.

"Riverrun," you said, continuing the lie. 

"The lions taken it?"

"I don't know, didn't stay there long enough to find out," you replied and looked to your feet.

Had it already been taken? It wasn't like washerwomen were invited to the war table and you didn't have a great many places to pick from. You knew every street of King's Landing and which areas of Flea Bottom were the safest to walk. Outside that, was a world you'd only heard in passing. Seats belonging to one lord or the other. 

"You a King's man?" the innkeeper asked but Clegane kept silent, still stewing in his anger but her smile didn't waver. "Those that serve the good of the realm have our girls for free."

With a whistle, one of the women left the open stalls, the dress undone, bundling at her waist and the bare skin oiled. You fixed your eyes on the satchel filled with food as she jumped up on the counter to sit.

He wasn't your husband. Made no promises, sworn no vow. You knew he had visited brothels in King's Landing, Clegane never boasted of it, but you knew it just as you knew that almost every man did. One thing to know it and another to see it.

"I'll go and water the horse," you mumbled, emptying the coinpurse and darting out with your rations.

What would even the protest be? Don't? Because you're there? Because you wanted him to come to you instead? When he became Kingsguard, you had hoped. He would have been far from the first that went to a washerwoman for comfort, but the man never came and you never saw the women he went to instead. It left room. Room for your fantasies to make the world something it wasn't, make you the woman in one of the winesinks he tapped on the shoulder.

Stranger stood tethered by a wooden post, but this time the black stallion didn't whinny out as you came close.

"Would serve me right to take off and be rid of him while he's gone," you said and rolled your eyes.

Even if that had been a plan, Stranger was a warhorse and you had heard the talk of stablehands. They weren't trained to be pleasant and amicable like a palfrey. The only ones that could safely ride them were their masters, not even all squires could take to their knight's horse.

"She was very lovely," you said and fastened the satchel. "Bet she can make him in a good mood."

As the tears started to well, you hit your head against the side of the saddle making Stranger stomp down.

"Could you let me pity myself for a moment please?" you whispered.

The door to the tavern struck open and you didn't even need to turn to know it was the Hound. He was quick at least. For the first time your heart didn't race as his hands caught your waist and hoisted you up in the saddle.

"Never been in a whorehouse before?" he asked, you only shook your head in response. "Not too grown for a silent treatment?"

"You were tired of my bickering."

Clegane swung up behind you, snorting. "True. Left to me to make a new plan then."

You twisted in the saddle, "We had a plan?"

"Thought going east would be good, doubt they've heard about any Clegane there. Gold to be had in being a sellsword," he replied and grimaced. "Slavers. The eastern shore is full with them, ain't taking you there."

"How is that any different from bands of broken men?"

"It's different," Clegane said but as the village started to grow distant behind you he continued, "A broken man fights to stay alive. Killing, theft, some turn rapers. A bandit with better arms."

"How is that different from slavers?"

"Smarter. Already forgotten the Greyjoy Rebellion?" he asked.

Waiting for Stranger to bob down his head, you kicked over your leg, so your side was to him. It was rare for him to be this talkative. If the woman in the tavern had gotten his warmth, you'd at least savor the rest.

"You fought in it?"

It earned you another snort. "Gregor fought in it, I guarded. Kept to the shores of the Westerlands dealing with raiders," he said and his eyes looked to the road ahead, beyond it and his voice grew distant. "Sure, they'd kill a few men, torch some houses but they'd scurry off the moment one came riding. For every man killed, twice the number of women and children were taken."

"The Ironborn took slaves?"

"Aye, but they didn't keep all of them. Some they gave to their Drowned God." Clegane returned to you, the dark eyes meeting yours. "Tyroshi wouldn't sacrifice you to the waves."

"If any of them win, the Lannisters, the Baratheons or the Stark? Would any pardon you?" you asked.

"Fat chance of that. The King in the North might send me to the Wall if he's anything like his Lord Father. At least that one would take my head himself."

"No slaver is taking me and no King in the North is taking your head," you spat and Clegane cocked his brow. "What?"

"First time I hear you growling," he said. 

The camp for the night was made by a small brook, birch trees rising high around the meadow. The sky had gone purple. It was a luxury to be able to roll out your bedroll before dusk was claimed by night. Watching as the water in the kettle came to a boil, you pulled it off the fire. The rabbit, skinned and gutted, sizzled on its spit, and the turnips had been buried into the earth by the edge of the campfire, baking away.

"I'm not making poison," you swore as the Hound's eyes fell on you, steeping birch leaves into the water, "it's good for you."

"A cunning woman now too?" he asked.

"It's just what I've been told, I've drunken it myself so I know it won't kill us. If you don't want to try it then there's just more wine for you to drink."

The Hound returned to sharpening his sword, running the whetstone along the blade, and when satisfied he took to his dagger.

"It's good you caught the rabbit," you said after a while.

"Leave it be."

His voice didn't sound any different, no more angry or tired than before, yet that distant gaze returned. There wasn't even any anger in his face, the scowl was there, but it was a fixture. Hollow.

"We'll figure out a plan," you tried. "I'd rather stay here in Westeros, it's not like I'd be comfertable in a land were there's slaves, regardless if I'm one of them or not."

Rising, you stepped into his view but his eyes didn't catch you. "Clegane?"

The wind made the tops of birchtrees sway, the leaves rustling and wood snapping.

Snapping?

Your gaze left the Hound, peering out amongst the trees. He had been correct, being so scrutinous of the pick of campsite. There were no shrubs, no trees thick enough for them to hide.

One after the other they appeared, eight in all. Their faces gaunt and hunger had made their clothes hang loose to their bodies. 

"Clegane," you breathed but the man did not rise, he didn't as much as peer back.

Their eyes, while everything else seemed to have wilted away, what rested within the eyes of those men made every fiber within your being scream out, plead for you to run.

You were nothing more than a lamb that had wandered into a den of lions. Hadn't Clegane heard you? But he always heard you? Why couldn't he hear you?! You opened your mouth to speak, mouthing his name, yet no sound came. Steel gleamed in their hands.

"Sandor?"

A flicker of relief, he must have heard you but when your eyes darted down the Hound sat unmoving. Was this a nightmare? The dark eyes were so distant, like he was stuck somewhere far away.

They'd kill you.

They'd kill him.

You saw everything else in those eyes of theirs too, how slow your death would be. You were more than a threat. A treat. A plaything— until they'd grow bored of you.

"Dog!" the scream rang through the forest.

You stepped back as Clegane shot to his feet, breath catching in your throat as he spun around. The sword was already drawn, and the Hound's helm that had rested beside him quickly came over his head.

"Stranger. Now."

"Leaving?" one of them spun, the blond hair matted into thick clumps. "You be clad in plenty of steel."

"And that told you this was a good idea?" the Hound snorted.

"More of us than you," another spat, an ax ready in his hand.

"Who you serving?" the first man asked. "Lions?"

"Not anymore," Clegane replied, backing up until his hand caught your arm, squeezing. "Stranger. Untie him."

"A broken brother!" the first man laughed and held out his arms, but the sword was no less sharp in his grip. "Do not fret, we ain't here to judge kin! You look strong enough, why not join us? We see to our share of fun and keep each other's backs far better than some lordling twat. That's a good sword."

Silent you turned around, the stallion stood by one of the birch trees already pulling at the reigns that bound it but as you took a step towards it, a third man darted into the path. A gapped grin flashing on his face, the cheeks scarred by pox.

"You cooked that, love?" he asked, nodding to the rabbit beginning to charr by the fire, but you couldn't will yourself to answer. "Cooks and keeps her mouth shut, her cunt tight too?"

"We share in our little brotherhood. Fairness and all that," the first man said.

"I don't," the Hound replied.

"Manners," the man sighed and nodded back, the youngest among them stood with his bow knocked and drawn. "The boy's rather good with that one, been feathering birds all his life. Not so different from feathering men, ain't it so, Tip?"

"Aye," the boy Tip replied.

"I like your helm," the first man continued.

"Do I look like a fucking merchant?" the Hound growled.

"Looks like a dead man to me," another called out.

A stillness laid itself over the meadow. You didn't see what started it, but in a blink of an eye, everything happened all at once. A clang. From your right, a shadow dove in, and the man that had stood before you with his gapped grin disappeared behind the Hound. A spray of crimson shot through the air as Clegane thwarted his sword. A howl. You spun only for the shadow of the Hound to leap from your back again. The next death you saw fully, Clegane cut off the first man's hand, and the sword hit the ground with a thud, the fingers still curled around its hilt. The wail was cut short as the dagger buried into the man's eye. You watched as steel met steel until it hit the softness of flesh, sending up blades of crimson. The Hound was fighting four at once, or rather, he took great care not to. Never staying long enough in one place, his sword veining through the air, but it wasn't a desperate flailing. An arrow buried itself into his shoulder, but Clegane didn't even seem to notice. Cursing, the boy knocked his bow once more. Four became three, three became two, two became-

Four.

You began to twist, to search for the fifth, but a warmth hit your back. You opened your mouth to scream, but fingers clawed at the back of your head. The blade pressing against your throat.

"Shut your mouth," a stranger's voice hissed.

The boy no longer stood with his bow, aiming at the Hound. Taking flight amongst the birch trees. Clegane ripped the ax from the hand of one of the dead and you looked on with the last survivor of the brotherhood as it veined through the air. The boy's shriek made the dagger press even harder at your throat.

"Enough!" the roar made your ears ring.

The Hound's chest heaved, blood clinging to his brigandine. You had seen anger in his eyes before, but never like this, a wildness, a bloodthirst that could make anyone shrink

"Should have run," the Hound rasped.

"Like him? Drop your sword," the stranger said, the boy still wailing, crying for the aid of gods and his mother. "You deaf? Want the bitch to live then drop that fucking sword!"

It slipped out of his hand, and without the stranger having to make any demand the dagger followed.

"So you're not deaf. Now get on that horse of yours. If you ride hard and long enough, I might just leave her here alive."

He wouldn't. Perhaps he'd not take his time with you like his brethren, but there was no mercy in that voice, in the blade that pressed against your throat. So this was it, how you died. Dog. The last word you ever spoke to him, what you had heard echoing through the Red Keep as the King had yelled for his Hound to come. A title, only spoken in contempt or ridicule, was your final word. Not. like. this.

The pain burned bright in your hands. You couldn't see your murderer's face, just his arms, free from steel and wool. He wrung around you, cursing and roaring. The taste of metal filled your mouth. The next had no pain, just a warmth seeping down your throat. The Hound lunged, bodies clashing, and you flew to the side. One hand catching grass and the other, the still twitching leg of a dead man. Away. You just needed to get away.

The fingers trembled, red and slick. Your hands, your blood. Deep gashes ran along your palms. It couldn't have taken that long, you didn't stare at the bloody hands for an eternity before your fingertips brushed over your neck. Whimpering as the pain shot out and without thought, you pressed against your throat.

"Clegane?" your voice weak, frail, but behind you could hear grunts, a heavy thud that grew wetter and wetter, and the cracking of bone.

The world had begun to spin and the boy's cries, you could hear them again, "Mother, help me! Please, help me! MOTHER!"

Why? You would have given them food if they were hungry. It wasn't fair.

Tipping onto your side, Clegane straddled the man, his fingers had dug into the man's face and each time he brought the head up you could see the back, its shape long gone.

"Clegane?"

Another thud, another wet crack.

"MOTHER! MOTHER!"

"Sandor?" it left you nothing more than a pipe.

There they were, those dark eyes of his, a fury like no other gone in an instant, and the next, Clegane's hands were on you. Pressing at your throat.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you whispered, tears blurring your view. "I didn't mean to."

Cursing under his breath, Clegane ripped up the scarf underneath his bevor and pushed it into the hand pressing at your throat. How much time, how many words would the gods give you to make this right?

"He's dead. It's done."

"I would never have called you that. Never. But you were... it was like you couldn't hear me, I'd never... I'm sorry, please forgive me."

His brow furrowed before his free arm slipped in by your legs and the ground left beneath you. Carrying you to Stranger's saddle.

"The food," you said.

It was a ruin, the rabbit had fallen into the fire, and the kettle kicked over.

"Fuck the food," he snapped and steadied you on Stranger's back, taking your hand to where he pressed. "Keep that there. Press it down. Hard."

You offered no protest as Clegane turned around. The sword and dagger returned to his hands. The Hound ran between the trees, and the boy's cries finally stopped before he appeared again.

Worry writ across his face. It looked too close to sorrow.

"I'm sorry I called you that. I never thought of you like...," you said as he swung up in the saddle. "I'm sorry, Clegane."

"You're not going to die, so save your pardons for some other day," he replied but if that was a promise or a command, you couldn't tell.

A lone candle lit up the small chamber, the heavy scent of incense tickling your nose and the bed soft beneath you.

"Let's see if you can't lift that for me, love," the innkeeper hummed and tapped on your hand, still pressing the bloodsoaked scarf against your throat.

Reluctantly you obeyed.

"Aren't you lucky, any deeper and you'd be a goner," she said, "if you've not bled out yet, you'll not do it now."

Her hands cradled yours, sucking at her teeth. "These will give you more trouble, but better that."

Behind the woman, the Hound sat on a chest by the door, his gaze burning her back.

"The only issue will be if it festers, but I'll see if we can't make that less likely."

"No burning," the Hound's voice tensed.

"I treat my girls with honey," she replied, pulling out a jar from one of the pockets of her apron.

You bit your lip as she began to dab it along the wound of your neck before turning her attention to your hands. The innkeeper humming as she worked.

"Seeing as you said this was work of some broken men, you two can have the room for free for tonight," the woman peered back at Clegane, her hand closing at your wrist as if he was to pull her away, "and I know who you are. We're not busy tonight, no one here to bother you, but lions like to prowl here. I won't lie when they come, so the two of you best leave early. Have I made myself understood?"

Clegane only offered a nod. Rising, she brushed her hands off the apron and gave you another warm smile before handing you the jar of honey. "You should reapply it but keep some linen over the wounds, not so much that it cannot breathe but enough so you're not pestered by flies."

"Thank you," you said.

"I hope you safely reach your family in Highgarden," the woman replied and slipped out.

"It is kind of them to let us stay for free," you said as Clegane locked the door.

He stayed by it, his hand gripping the handle. It fumed out of him, filling up the room.

"You're angry," you noted, an ache forming in your chest. "I should never have called you that."

Clegane snorted, and the bed creaked as he sat by its end, peering back over his shoulder.

"Think that's what troubles me?" His gaze stayed on you, wandering down to the hands laying at your sides. "Good work I've done, keeping you safe."

"I'm alive."

"Barely," Clegane replied and looked ahead, starting to unbuckle his pauldrons. 

The brigandine slid off his body and the mail followed until he only sat in his undertunic. There was no red stain where the arrow had hit, the layers of steel had kept it from his body.

"Eight, you faced eight men alone and lived. How many can attest to such a thing?" you tried.

"There's no glory in killing rats. They had no armor and barely enough strength to swing their blades," he said and rose, pulling the cloak over his shoulder. "Go to sleep."

"Where are you going?"

"Seeing if killing broken men gets me wine," he muttered and the door slammed shut behind him.

You shuffled to the side of the bed, wincing as you pulled yourself up to sit, pain throbbing in your neck. The blood still clinging to your dress had begun to brown, and your fingertips traced the stains that ran down your breast.

Waiting, you came to know the small bedchamber well. The pattern of the bubbles that speckled the glass of the lone window, the scratches that ran along the wooden floor where furniture had been dragged and rearranged over the years. You wanted to be excited. The sole bed would only mean one thing, but what did it matter to lay beside him if he did not want you? If it wasn't your comfort he sought? The hurt of such a truth would have been easier another night, but the broken men's eyes hadn't gone. It didn't matter that they lay cold, gazing blankly at the night sky. Fear can't be waved away like some fly. It burrowed deep. If he could touch you, claim you. If you could be the one to allow it, for it not to be taken. The candle by the windowsill had all but burnt away when the door creaked open.

Clegane's voice was thick and drink had left it even more grating than usual, "Told you to sleep."

"I couldn't."

"Hard thing when sitting up," he replied dryly.

The floorboards creaked under his heavy footstep and you looked up, meeting his gaze, drunk and sullen.

"You did good," you said. "We're alive, surely that is what matters."

You smiled. Offered what the man had told you was the reason he had come for you at the Battle of Blackwater but Clegane winced as if you had just put a dagger in his gut.

"You heard the woman, she knows me. Won't be a place in the Seven Kingdoms where I'll go and not have some bugger that heard of me. This?" his hand shot out, but as it closed in on your face it slowed and the finger that traced down along the curve of your neck made your body tingle. "If I failed you a first time, I'll fail you a second time. I'm no fool."

"You did not fail me."

"Did that plenty today, done it for days now," he said and laughed as you frowned. "Not blind, woman. I see your face, how miserable you are."

"It isn't— I'm not miserable."

A small part perhaps, but it was loneliness, bitterness to not be wanted. But you didn't want his touch from desperate pleads or nagging, what sort of love was that?

"There it is," Clegane breathed. He lowered, looming above you. "Don't think I see it in your eyes, woman? Your lies might not be as rotten as the rest of them, but it's lies all the same. What woman wants a man that can't even protect her?"

"You're being cruel," you whispered.

"The fuck I am," Clegane hissed. "I've been plenty patient. Others take me, you think this a cruelty? You're that dumb? It's a kindness."

"You call me dumb and say it kindness?" you replied, a shrillness growing in your voice. "I think I have made it clear what I feel for you, if you do not want me then that is something I must come to terms with, but it is cruel to mock me for it."

As Clegane leaned forward, the pain in your neck made you tip back. Was this another one of his quips? As his hands found themselves on either side of your face, linens twisting as they balled into fists.

"Wanted to keep you safe. Unharmed. You'd never feel pain again. Look where that got me. Wanted you to never weep, and is this not your tears?" His thumb brushed by your cheek, wiping the tear away. "I can kill whoever tries to hurt you, but when you regret me and these are mine and not by some broken men? Can't offer you any comfort then."

"And you call me dim," you whispered. "These tears rest by your feet, Sandor Clegane." The tip of your fingers brushed over his stubbled cheeks, and the corners of your lips tugged. "Only you its comfort."

It was another cruelty, how quickly the man's eyes could change, for them to look down on you so intently. Leaving the rest of you to catch up, heart pounding in your chest, breath hitching.

"You could kiss me... if you like," the last words barely left your lips a sound.

Closing your eyes as Clegane lowered.

The lips you had only dreamed of didn't meet yours, his nose grazed your chin, and as his warm breath hit the nape of your neck, a sigh escaped your lips, "Please?"

Pain kept you bound, from hooking your arms around his neck and pulling up. He was near. The warmth traveled down and the tip of his nose brushed by your collarbone.

"You're being cruel."

A whole other than his first. It had hurt but this was torture, his mouth was so close to the laces of your underdress. If he just caught the string with his mouth and tugged, the dress could be gone. He could see all of you, touch all of you.

You squirmed as he moved up, whimpering.

"Not cruel," the rasp was a low hum in your ear. "Savoring something new."

"Please..."

"Never had a woman plead like this," he continued, and his face nuzzled in by the side of yours, gently as not to strain the wound by your neck.

It didn't matter. Your hips bucked up, but you couldn't reach him, his left hand sliding down and pinning you to the bed.

"Keep still."

Clegane pushed up, the scowl returning to his face as he inspected your throat. It wasn't until he looked at your hands that he sat up. Red splotched the wrappings of your left hand.

"It's nothing, I swear I'm fine," you said but the hands were already sliding in underneath you.

"You need rest."

Leave it to him to even make this a haggle.

"We could be gentle," you tried as he placed you back on the bed, no longer laying on its short end.

"Had too much wine for that and my patience is strained thin as it is," he grunted and walked to where his armor rested.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

Why? It was perfect, he was perfect. His back turned to you, Clegane slid on the mail shirt, and the brigandine returned to his shoulders.

"Where are you going?"

"You need rest," he repeated, "I stay, that won't happen."

Turning to put on his cloak, you saw it, the fabric of his breeches straining. He... he was... you had done that? Clegane came closer, walking around the edge of the bed. Had he changed his mind? But you couldn't look away as he lowered, his breath tickling your neck.

Rasping into your ear, "Hear me now, woman?"

"What?"

The snort made you wince, rearing back your head.

"Pardons, never had my cock make a woman lose her hearing," Clegane said, his voice even thicker than before.

"Did you say somethi-" But the question turned to a whimper as Clegane's teeth caught your ear.

The bite made the tingling inside grow to a throb.

Your hands shot up, trying to latch onto his shoulders but he caught you by the wrists. "Such pretty sounds you make."

Clegane released you, staggering back, a grin spread on his lips. The last of his cups had caught up with him. The wildness, so similar to what had been in his eyes as he had killed the broken men met you.

"I'll taste those lips come morn," he swore and the grin grew wider as you failed to hide your disappointment.

"If this was done it mocking, then you are beyond cruel," you whispered.

"Drunk too much. I'll not have my first kiss forgotten."

With that, he yanked up the pauldrons and walked out, locking the door behind him. Watching from the window, you saw the Hound slink into the stables. The cuts in your hands didn't even allow you to deal with what he left behind. It wasn't until your body had calmed that you recalled his words.

First kiss.

The Hound had never kissed a woman before?

Thanks for reading!

Listen, getting into the emotional iceberg that is Sandor Clegane takes time. If you wish for more spice, I'll gladly provide it. But like culinary spice, text spiciness comes in levels🔥🔥🔥 So, if you have a pitchfork and wish to point it my way? En garde muthafucka!🤺

Sandor Clegane makes me feral 🥴😍

Teaser

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x reader

Prompt: ‘How funny do you think teasing is now?’

Fic type: drabble

Warnings: rough sex, dirty talk, implied d/s, degradation

Gif creds to owner

When given a task, Sandor Clegane was relentless; when the task was his own decision, it was as if nothing else in the world mattered.

You had been on your hands and knees for what felt like hours, his thick cock driving in and out of you over and over, and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t convince him to let you cum. You had tried to rub your own clit at one point, but he grabbed your hands, hoisting you up against his chest and grunted into your ear, “keep your fucking hands away,”

Crying out desperately, you found yourself for once cursing his stamina, your head lolling back on his broad chest. “S-Sandor, please!” You begged for the umpteenth time, though as soon as the words left your lips you knew precisely what his answer would be.

“You wanna cum, do you, girl?” He growled, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Still think your teasing’s funny, do you?” You whimpered, shaking your head.

“N-no, sandor, I’m sorry!” You pleaded, feeling yourself climbing.

Apparently he could feel it too, because his hips stilled just for a moment, the brief respite both relief and torture at the same time. “I can feel your tight little cunt clenching around me,” he groaned. “You’re enjoying this… I think I’ll make you wait just a little bit more…”

Tags: @sociallyawkward-princess @lazyotakujen @janelongxox @honeyofthegods @lxoxtxtxi @fullmoonshadowwrites

Realm's Delight

Summary: You were the twin of the dark haired child Cersei had with Robert. While fever took your twin, you survived. You are known throughout the seven kingdom as the realm's delight. The years has passed and your younger brother Joffrey wants something you have. Sandor Clegane x Baratheon! Reader

A/n: Let me know if you enjoy this. Likes and comments are appreciated. Enjoy -L

Warning: NSFW, being the it girl, Joffrey being Joffrey, Robert is nice to us, manipulation at its finest, daddy's girl, princess wants princess gets, territorial!

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“It was a miracle.” Robert Baratheon, your father told you. You had survived the horrid fever that took your twin brother away. It was a secret that was kept among the Lannisters and only Robert. While Cersei was in mourning of the loss of her son, Robert’s was cut short. Cersei always resented him for that and that he gave you his undivided attention. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew how Robert adored you. Some had even said that he loves you more than his own wife, Cersei and as you grew, he practically gave you whatever your heart desired. Your father wasn’t the only one to give you gifts. Fur straight from House Stark, jewels and the finest dresses from House Martell. Seafood freshly caught by House Greyjoy. The list of gifts went on and on. You were named the realm’s delight among the people. 

When Robert learned about the nickname that you have been given he feared that you will have the same fate as Lyanna Stark. Robert decided to do what was best, keep you protected at all times. Robert declared for Sandor Clegane to become your personal guard. Cersei had cried out to Robert about it. He is a monstrosity and hideous beast, she ranted. You heard of the Clegane’s brothers. Lord Baelish always been somewhat kind enough to keep you up to date about the accomplishments Ser Gregor had done along with Sandor’s. 

“A flower like you shouldn’t be guarded by such an animal.” Lord Baelish exclaimed as his wandering eyes looked up and down that you. You grabbed a hold of his hands. Lord Baelish blushed from the sudden contact. 

“I will grow to be the most beautiful flower because of that animal.” You whispered to Lord Baelish who honestly wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying. 

You were so close to him, his mind was in the gutters. Rolling your eyes when you turn away to leave Lord Baelish, you wipe your hands on your dress while walking away from him. Men, they will always think with their cock. Cersei had told you after she had too many cups of wine. Your uncle, Jamie had laughed at her and tried to take her back to her chambers before she said anything else. That’s how you used Lord Baelish to tell you about the gossip going around. A praise, batting your eyelashes at him or giving him a smile was all needed for him to tell you what you wanted to know. 

When Sandor was presented to you for the first time, you were surprised. He was the second tallest man you ever seen, his brother was the first. He had lowered his head as he entered the chambers so he wouldn’t hit the door frame. Robert had taken your hand and pulled you towards Sandor. You noticed Sandor had the most beautiful brown eyes you've ever seen. Brown, like the earth and as the light hit his eyes, they looked like honey. You got a closer look when he knelt in front of you and vowed to keep you safe. You knew about the story of his burn scars. It took you an afternoon with Lord Baelish, drinking tea to learn about it. You had taken a liking to Sandor when he became your guard. He was too silent for your liking but that meant you had to break his walls down. 

Sandor stood and waited with you outside of your mother’s chambers. She was going to give birth to her second child. Sandor had mumbled to you to keep still since you kept walking back and forth, worried every time you heard your mother’s screams. You were about to say something when the screams stopped. Joffrey was born, and he was healthy. King Robert had his heir to the iron throne. Cersei had two other children after that and your relationship with her became unsteady. Sandor would cast a look at you whenever someone mentioned to you about Joffrey’s and your siblings' golden locks as they grew. You gave them a smile and answered. “They have been blessed with the Lannister’s golden hair.”

He knew you weren’t an idiot, he ignored when people said you were and sometimes when in a bad mood he slayed them whenever they expressed their opinions about it to him loudly. All beauty but nothing in your head. He wanted to tell them how wrong they were. He had spent hours with you in the dusty library of the castle. Seen you excelled in your studies. The winning smile you gave them disappears the moment they leave your sight. 

“Something to say, my beloved Sandor?” The tips of Sandor’s ears grew hot by your affectionate words. You had a habit of calling him all sorts of names after both of you grew closer. You didn't want to admit it to Sandor but you like seeing him squirm after calling him those sweet names. 

“No, princess.” He croaked out when you gave a cheeky smile. He immediately looked down at the ground. 

“Do you think father will ever notice?” You ask Sandor and he looks back at you. You were being serious. 

Sandor shook his head, no. “Maybe if he stops drinking and catches a break from his whores, I reckon he might see it. Unfortunately I can’t say anything. As much as father loves me more, I fear I will be punished if I say it.” 

Sandor was right you weren’t the dumb princess everyone seems to think. As the time passed, Joffrey and the rest of your siblings grew; it's been nearly 16 years. You had finally managed to get out of a marriage proposal that your father mentioned to you. Sandor was waiting outside as he heard your voice behind your father’s chambers door. He couldn’t help but grin when he heard the hearty laughter from the King. 

“Thank you, father. I knew you would be able to understand. That’s why you are the most wonderful King to ever live.” Sandor heard you say before walking out. 

Sandor watched as you shut the door behind you and pointed at the staircase nearby. Sandor looked around his surroundings, making sure no one was in sight. He walked a few steps down and turned to see you walking towards him. He lets out a huff when you jump on him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Seven hells.” Sandor cursed when kissed his cheek, attacking him with kisses. Sandor moved to capture your lips with his. 

“I take it. It went well.” Sandor said, pulling you close to him. You nodded with a grin. 

“Father can be very kind when he’s drunk out of his mind.” You told him as he put you down on the steps. Both of you froze at the sound of Joffrey’s voice, he was coming up the steps. Sandor immediately took a few steps away from you. 

“Oh look, it’s my dear sister.” 

“Hello, my dear brother.” You greeted Joffrey in the same sarcastic tone. The blonde stood a few steps down from you with Ser Meryn Trant behind him. 

“Dog.” Joffrey said.  “My-.” 

“You mean Sandor.” You cut Sandor off. Your harsh tone wiped the smirk off Joffrey's face. You crossed your arms over your chest. This was an ongoing thing. Joffrey would call Sandor a dog to get a rise out of you. 

“His name is Sandor. Have you forgotten?” Joffrey can’t help but smile wickedly at you. It irritated you, Joffrey grew to be more ill and filled with a horrible attitude. He was a spoiled child, that’s all you had to say about your brother. His words and remarks were vile and you wouldn’t stand for it especially when it came to Sandor or to your servants. 

“He’s a dog, my dear sister. There’s no changing that. He is The Hound.” 

“You’re a dog as well. You even act like one and yet people still call you prince.” You answered back. 

“You little-.” Meryn Trant stopped mid sentence when he saw Sandor walking down the steps to get next to you. 

“Finish what you were saying. I fucking dare you.” Sandor threatens Meryn Trant and gives him a cold stare down. Sandor’s reputation grew as the years passed. Killer, monster, perhaps even worse than his brother, the names and the fear of fighting against him grew. They all knew no one is safe when he’s protecting you. 

“You are so kind to the people below us.” Joffrey said, making your eyes roll. You wished for the day when Joffrey realized that he is a bastard. It was called a rumor but you knew the truth. Cersei has always been a bit sloppy when she was drunk. You had seen your mother and your uncle, Jamie getting cozy. 

“I will be so heartbroken when you finally leave King’s Landing and join those filthy people from Drone.” You smile at your brother. Plans have been changed. 

“I’m surprised that you know about my marriage proposal with Drone.” You said knowing him and your mother had conspired this marriage proposal. 

“Let me be the one to deliver this good news to you, dear brother.” Joffrey frowned as you approached him closer. 

“There is no need to be heartbroken, for I am staying. There is no proposal.” Joffrey's blonde brows rose up and his shocked expression turned into an angry one. 

“It must be hard not being father’s favorite.”  You whispered. 

This dispute, the rivalry between you and brother began when he was able to see how Robert favored you more. He reached out for Robert but Robert was busy being King or being drunk. Joffrey was always envious of you, you had your father wrapped around your finger along with the entire realm while you got cheered and praised. He got concerned looks from the people of King's Landing. 

“Shall we go, Sandor? Agatha said she was preparing chicken for prandium.” You looked over at Sandor who nodded at you. 

“Yes, princess.” Passing by Joffrey, you ignored the look from Mery Trant. Sandor bowed his head to Joffrey and followed you. You can hear Sandor’s heavy footsteps behind you as you continue to hold your front. You wouldn’t let Joffrey know that his little plan to get rid of you didn’t work. Thanks to Lord Baelish and Lord Varys who gave you a heads up about it again, this wasn’t the first time. Joffrey wanted to get rid of you again and now he had even gotten your mother to play along. 

Night came and you welcomed the warmth Sandor provided you. Even though the weather of King’s Landing was already warm you still preferred the heat from Sandor’s body. 

“I heard something.” Sandor spoke after a moment of silence. You played with the soft hair on his chest while you laid your head on his arm, his arms tightening around you. 

“Speak, Sandor.” You softly said, growing anxious every passing second. 

“The servants overheard Joffrey asking Cersei about taking me as his own guard.” You raised your head off his arm and looked down at him. 

“What?” 

“He wants me as his guard.” Sandor answered you. You shook your head. 

“That little cunt.” You whispered under your breath and you realized Sandor wasn’t even looking at you. He kept staring up at the ceiling of your chambers. His eyes had become dull and his face was emotionless. Pushing the sheets off your body, you moved to sit in his lap. Paying no attention to the soreness between your legs, you felt him hold on to your legs as you cupped his face with both hands. 

“He won’t take you away from me.” Sandor let out a strain chuckle.

He knew what he had with you won’t last. He had made a promise to himself when he first met you. He wouldn't fall in love with you but he broke it. He was utterly in love with you after being your guard for many years. He had convinced himself in the beginning of your relationship that you guys can be together but reality was hitting him straight in the face, you were a princess and he was just a second born son. You would be married to someone else, someone better. You would leave him. 

“I swear it.”  

“Might be for the best if I do switch. It will be for the best.” Sandor said, making you frown. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to watch you marry some lord or a king and give him kids.” Sandor traced the skin of your legs as he spoke. 

“Your father won’t decline the next marriage proposal. He did it for the last two but not the third one. He won’t, I know it. The realm wants to see you married and have children. If I keep guarding you and you get married, I’ll kill your husband.” Sandor said sincerely. You dropped your hands from his face and brought it down to his chest. 

“Do you love me?” You asked. 

Sandor’s jaw clenched and his eyes grew hard. “Yes or no?” 

“You know I do. I have killed for you.” Sandor responded with no remorse. He had spilled blood for you and had lost count on how many people he killed to protect you and your honor.  

“If you love me then never say those words again. Promise me?! Promise me that you won’t say that it’s best.”

Sandor said your name softly but you yelled at him. “Swear it to me! Please.” 

Sandor nodded, raising his hand up to cup your cheek when he saw you on the verge of tears. He couldn’t bear seeing you cry. You grabbed on to his wrist, kissing his palm. 

“I promise. I swear it.” He told you. You leaned down to kiss him. Enjoying the tender moment with him, there were a few times when Sandor showed his soft side with you. It was mostly in bed, both of you would be wrapped around each other and sometimes the aftermath of many orgasms. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He told you and you began to kiss him harder moving your hips, your cunt humping against his cock. Whining loudly when you felt him pull you to his chest and wrap an arm around you. His free hand touches your bare ass. Sandor takes a deep breath as he feels how warm and wet you are. 

“I won't let Joffrey take you away from me. I have a plan.” 

Sandor’s hand freezes on your ass and looks down at you. 

“A plan?” You nodded as you pressed a kiss on his chest. 

“Yes. You’re mine, Sandor. No one is going to take you away from me.” Your words were like a shot of adrenaline to him. He gripped your ass harder, he wanted to believe you.

He didn't want to ruin this moment with a fight. He wanted to remember this night with you incase this would be the last night he gets to spent with you. Naked and curled up together. He wanted to enjoy it, so he moved to his side, taking you with him. Facing each other now, Sandor drapes your leg over his waist, your right arm under his head while his arm goes under you. In a thirst position, he can hold you close to him. You bump his nose softly and kiss his scared cheek.  He gripped your waist pulling you closer to him.

You shut your eyes and moan when his thick fingers touch your slit. Gather the reminiscence of your cum and his dripping from your hole and rub it on along the swollen lips of your cunt. The tip of his fingers gliding over your clit making you cry out, your cunt was sensitive from earlier. Your toes curled up and legs tensed up when you felt his finger inside of you. 

“Fuck.” He groans as he holds you close to him. Moaning his name as you felt him finger you for a moment. He shifted and moved your legs higher so he had room. 

“Sandor.” You cry out his name as he slips inside of you. You held on to his arms as he gripped your waist while pumping into you. 

His face hidden between your neck and shoulder, you can feel his hand on your back, nails digging into your skin. You held on for dear life as you heard him growl against your skin. 

“I’ll kill him, Y/n.” He moans to you as he fucks you, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt. His thrust was growing faster and harsher. The thought of you married with some prince made him angry. Even if people didn't know, you were his and he would keep it that way.

“You hear me?” He said with a moan. He moves his face towards you. You nod at him letting out a pitched whine when he hits that sweet spot. 

“You belong with me. You’re mine.” You kissed him trying to mask your moans but nothing in the world would mask the squelching sound of your pussy being fucked. 

Sandor held on to you as he moved his hips back and forward. He feels his balls tighten when he feels you cum on him, you’re trembling, skin slick with sweat. Sandor is grunting as he manhandles you. Your hands are on him, touching him, you can feel the muscles and his scars from his battles on his back and his arms. 

Sandor cries your name and you shut your eyes as he presses his hips against you, slamming his cock deep inside of you. His hand on your hips goes down your ass, cups your cheek. He squeezes it as he cums deep inside of you. You whimper feeling stuff, your pussy keeps clenching and unclenching around him. He shifts his hips and you moan at the feeling of your clit being ticked by his pubic hair.

You feel his lips on your cheek, pressing soft kisses as he huffs out of breath. 

“Sandor.” You whispered as you nuzzled against his face. You didn’t mind the feeling of the scars against your face, you kept close to him enjoying the aftermath of your orgasm. 

You didn’t want this to end, you wouldn’t allow it. Sandor was yours first, Sandor belongs to you just as much you belong to him. You weren’t going to give him up without a fight. 

Morning came and you were woken by your ladies in waiting. The flock of ladies knocked and waited for you outside to respond. You rose up, finding yourself alone. You wrapped yourself in a blanket and invited them inside. One by one they walked inside, picking up the sheets from the floor, one went to your closet to get your clothes for the day and one opened the doors to the balcony. 

“Here, my princess.” The eldest came by you after you covered yourself with your robe. You thanked her for the tea and waited patiently while one warmed your bath water.

One of the ladies was brushing your hair after your bath. They stopped when there was a knock on the door, opening the door. Sandor came walking in, he had a concerning look on his face. 

“Good morrow, princess. The king demands your presence in his chambers at once.” 

You walked to your father’s chambers with Sandor behind you. He sensed how nervous you were. Before going around the hall, you felt Sandor grab your arm. He gently pulled you back. You were pushed softly against the wall. Sandor stood in front of you, towers over you as he looked down at you. 

“Worried?” You whispered to him. You feel one of his hands cup your face. 

Sandor doesn’t reply, he simply presses his lips against yours. “Go on.” He tells you and steps away from you. 

Sandor has a habit of never expressing his feelings out loud. Sandor followed you quietly. He wasn’t worried at all, he was scared and he hasn’t felt this way since he was a child when Gregor disfigured him. 

You walked down the hall and came to a halt when you saw Ser Meryn Trant standing outside of your father’s chamber. It meant that Joffrey was inside. You felt bile rise up. Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath to calm your nervousness. 

Meryn Trant saw you and opened your father’s chamber door for you. You looked over your shoulder and gave Sandor a look of nervousness. You took one last look of his brown eyes. It calms you for a moment and you’re able to walk inside your father’s chamber. You noticed Joffrey sitting down along with your mother while your father sat behind his desk. The door shut behind you as you walked towards your father. 

“Mother. Brother.” You greeted them and walked next to your father. You leaned down to kiss one of his pudgy cheeks. Robert gave you a smile and greeted you. You can smell the wine coming off your father.

“Sit, we have been waiting. Joffrey and your mother wish to discuss something with us.” 

You sat on the empty seat next to your mother. “Joffrey has told me that he would like Sandor as his personal guard.” Your mother said. 

So this was about Sandor. “What's wrong with Ser Meryn Trant?” You asked Joffrey. 

Joffrey wasn't expecting for you to say something. He thought you would obey instantly. You stare at Joffrey, you weren't going to let Sandor slip away from you. You were going to fight for him. 

Joffrey looked over at his father who was also staring at him. “Well, since Y/n is going off in Dorne. I want Sandor.” 

“I'm not going to Dorne. I told you.” Joffrey clenched his jaw. 

“You had refused your last marriage proposal. Father, are you going to accept this?” Joffrey asked Robert. 

“She isn't going to Dorne.” Robert said, making Cersei sit up. “Why not?” She asked him. 

“You dare to question me, woman.” Robert eyed Cersei. 

“Our daughter has not been wed, people will talk.” 

“You think I care what people say about her. She is my daughter. My word is law and final. She won't be shipped to Dorne.” 

You dislike how sometimes your father would speak to your mother. Robert was a down right misogynist but when it came to you he was different. You knew it had to do with Lyanna Stark, everyone told you how there was a resemblance between you and her. It was confirmed when Ned Stark and his family came to King's Landing to celebrate your name day. Ned couldn't take his eyes off of you and had even stuttered his sister's name after drinking with your father. 

You felt bad for Ned after so many years the death of his sister still had a hold over him just like Robert. He had begged forgiveness to you the next day. “Nonsense. No need to forgive, Lord Stark.” 

“He’s a good man.” Sandor told you after Ned left. You had finished a walk with Ned in the garden after you told him if it would be alright to share some stories about Lyanna. He gave you a smile and accepted. You learned a lot about her and intend to use this information. 

“He is.” You replied to him. 

“It will get him killed one of these days.” Sandor’s words made you sad. You didn't want to see the Lord of Winterfell dead. Unlike Joffrey and your mother, you enjoy their presence and have grown fond of his wife, Catelyn. 

“Our daughter should have been married and had babies by now. We can use her as an advantage, a leverage.” Cersei stood up from her seat and walked to the corner of the room where the cart of wines and cups were at. 

“I believe it has to be that atrocious dog always behind her. His face scares off any suitors. She will be married soon and doesn’t need him anymore.” 

“He protects me, mother.” You said folding your hands on your lap. Cersei looked over her shoulder at you. You looked over at your father because at the end of the day, he has the last day. 

“Father, remember the riot. Those men would have killed me. Sandor was there and killed them all. He killed those men.” Robert nodded remembering all too well about that horrible riot that broke out.  

You stood up from your seat and walked towards the desk. You kneel down near your father ignoring the tsk sound from Joffrey. You decided if Joffrey and your mother wanted to play dirty. So will you. 

“I do not wish the same fate as the lovely Lyanna Stark. May she be at peace.” Your father’s eyes shifted at the mention of Lyanna.

“I know. I have refused two marriage proposals now but I must tell you the truth, Sandor didn’t trust them. He had seen him, heard them speak ill behind my back.” You knew the words you were about to say will be a low blow to your mother and it will create a shift between you two but you had to do it. You didn’t want Joffrey to have Sandor. Sandor Clegane is yours. 

“You might think this is ridiculous, father.” You grabbed your father’s hand. 

“I want to be loved. The type of love you and Lyanna shared. Ned told me stories about your love with her and it warmed my heart. I crave for that love you both shared.” You flinched at the sound of Cersei throwing her cup of wine to the ground and walked out of the room. No one said anything for a moment. You just watched as the red wine from Drone stained the carpeted rug. This was your chance, your moment to seal it. Joffrey won’t take Sandor away from you. 

Sandor stood straight up when he saw the queen running out of the room. The door was opened and he looked ahead. He saw you kneeling by your father, looking up at him. 

“Don't take Sandor away from me. Don't let me have the same fate as the woman you loved.” 

Robert smiled down at you and cupped your face. “No need to worry. Clegane will stay by your side.” 

Robert looks towards Joffrey. “Stay with Ser Mery Trant. If you wish for a more depraved guard. Perhaps we can ask The Mountain to fill in.” Joffrey quickly shook his head. He sent a glare at you before standing up and walking out of the room. Sandor moved away from the door when he saw Joffrey with a pout on his face. Ser Mery Trant followed the prince. 

Sandor looked back at the doorway. Robert had helped you get up on your feet and gave you a hug. Sandor gave you a small smile when he saw you staring back at him with your own smile as you hugged your father. It worked. 

Sandor knew he would have to beg forgiveness for not believing in you. Your plan worked. Shame on him for ever doubting you, Princess Y/n Baratheon, the realm's delight. 

Chapter 2 ->

His Queen

Summary: I made this because of a tumblr post about Sandor being with Joffrey’s wife and they get together and he’s soft with her and she has his baby. I don’t recall the name of the post but I wrote something like that but with my own twist. Enjoy.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were visiting King’s Landing when Sandor met you. At first he thought nothing of it, many highborns came to visit King’s Landing all the time. He followed you and Joffrey around since he was Joffrey’s guard. Sandor wouldn’t forget the day when you came to King’s Landing. You wore a gown showing your curves, hair was brushed and braided. He kept staring at the yellow ribbon you had tied around your hair as he followed behind.  Sandor knew you were different from the rest who visited King’s Landing. You were sweet to everyone, to the servants and to the people. He had even caught you visiting the orphanage and to the sept. 

Sandor had seen women throw themselves to the blonde king but for the first time Joffrey was throwing himself at you. Few days later, King Joffrey asked for your hand in marriage. His mother was overjoyed that her son was marrying you, the princess of a wealthy king from beyond west of Westeros. Sandor wondered if everyone from west of Westeros was nice like you. 

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Imagine Raising a Direwolf Puppy with Sandor

yall can blame @multifandommandy​ for this overwhelming fluff, this is 90% her masterminding 👀

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ahhh i need request!!!, i wanna write sooo badly but when I do it for myself it's absolutely hot garbage😭, please somebody request something🙏 I'm starving to write a actually good story

Characters/shows/fandoms I'll write for

X-Men: gambit, sabertooth, wolverine, rouge, storm, beast, I'm open to some more those are just my top one's^^

Game of thrones: danny, sandor, gregor, some of the targaryen's, joffrey, oberyn(cause he needs more love), and open to others

The boys: black noir, homelander, A-train, starlight, butcher, MM, frenchie, open to more!(no soldier boy i hate that motherfucker)

Will also write for MK please request kano i can't get enough of that Aussie😩🙏

Readers I'll write for

Child x character platonic only

Animal x character platonic only

male x male (I'm not use to it but I'll try^^)

Fem x fem very use to it!