"Once, there might have been a time he thought he had loved. Once, there had been a lady with olive-green eyes, who smiled at him as if there were no burns to see. A foolish thought now. There was no love there... none at all."
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After winning the Hand's Tourney, Sandor gets back to his chambers stupidly drunk and horny. You, his maid, have to turn into his babysitter for the night.
Pairing: Sandor Clegane x Fem!Reader
Tags: mentions of violence and blood, no use of y/n
Word count: 1.5k
A/N: first time writing from sandors pov omg / not tagging anyone cuz it is really just a drabble, just thought itd be fun to write and maybe yall'd like to read it
Every once in a while, the gods smiled upon the miserable, doomed souls. Just to remind people of how little they had, and how cruel the counts could be. Today was one of these days, a day where Sandor had it all: as much wine as he could drink, all the food he could eat, a big fat bag of gold.
The best part? He got it all by fighting his brother. And winning. Technically.
The feast and the wine and the food were meant for the king to celebrate a tournament made for nothing other than spilling blood just for the sake of it, but if king Robert raised his goblet and cheered for him, than everybody else joined, even if they were all holding their breath over Sandor and Gregorβs fight. Or The Hound and The Mountainβs fight, and all the history behind it. Sandor knew the whispers and the twisted stories people liked to tell.
None of it mattered now that he was so drunk he barely stood up on his own feet. Sandor had stayed on the feast just long enough for people to stop coming to congratulate him, just long enough for the king to get drunk enough to forget about him, which was conveniently long enough for him to get drunk himself. Pushing the servant boy aside, Sandor got a wineskin full of the good wine they were serving and exited the room. He half remembered someone putting a flower crown on him, or trying to. Were he in his right mind, he wouldβve growled at them, but his head was so drowned in alcohol he just slapped the crown away. He might have stumbled on a wall or two before pushing open the door to his chambers, only to find you, a maid, inside it.Β
You were the same one from every other day, the one who swept his floor and cleaned the hearth. The one with the tight apron and the tits he wanted to suck on. Again.Β
Sandor closed the door by leaning on it, then took yet another large sip of wine. His body felt too light for his many pounds, and he lacked all the discipline a warrior ought to have. To hell with it, he had just faced his brother, and won. Technically.
βYouβre early.βyou said, not even turning to see him. You recognized his heavy steps. βWas the feast not to your liking?β
He grunted, letting his weight down on a chair. βFucking feastβ¦β He muttered, not even himself understanding half the words leaving his mouth or why he was saying them. The sound of the gold bag being put on the table did not startle you who kept on changing his bedsheets, bending down, your ass drawing all of his attention.
βWhat?β You smoothed the sheets with your hands, then turned around to face him, your eyes getting every detail of it: his dirty armor, the bag of gold, his heavy eyelids, the petals clinging to his neck. βYou won? I thought you were not even fighting today.β
βIβm a rich fucker now.β He sighed, sounding almost sober, almost resentful of his own words. No matter how many gold dragons he had, it was implicitly clear that coin, when possessed by people like him, was only meant for spending with whores, ale, maybe a good piece of fabric or shoes. His money did not mean much.
βYeah? And what are you doing with it?β You went on cleaning, too used to him. It was no news to see the Hound drunk or covered in someone elseβs blood. βYou could buy anything. Maybe hire another maid? This here is too much work for a woman alone.β
βIβll buy you a gagβ¦ noisy wench.β He rested his head on his hand, enjoying the silence and the darkness when he closed his heavy eyelids, then he turned his head just a bit, opened his good eye, looked you up and down as you went on cleaning.Β
You chuckled, as if the Hound was telling you a joke. You knew the noises of the tourney and the feast were probably still ringing in his ears, so you let that pass. βYou scowl harder when youβre drunk.β With a wet rag, you started cleaning the crumbs and dust out of the table, forcing Sandor to sit up straight to stay out of the way.Β
βSo, who did you fight?β
βMy big brothaβ.β Sandor scratched his beard, took another sip of wine, another look at your ass, then scratched his balls over his pants, which was not near enough. βHe was going to kill the Tyrell boy.βΒ
βSo you played the hero, mn?β You stopped, a hand on your hip, leaning against the table. βYouβre a real knight, Clegane.β He narrowed his eyes at the small smile you dared give him, the simple allusion of him being a knightΒ making him disgusted enough to be repulsed by his dirty armor.Β
βPiss off, woman.β He cussed you out as he started fumbling with the straps of his chestplate, paying no attention to what he was doing because his eyes were still on your mouth. Then on your figure, your hips, your tits again. βYou should givβ me yer favor.βΒ
βFavors are for knightsβ¦ from ladies. And it should happen before the tourney, should it not?β You left the wet cloth over the table to come help Sandor with his steel. He just let you, shoulders slumped.Β
Another sip of wine, another droop of his eyelids, another look at your hips, another throb of his cock, another grumble, another cuss, though he was not sure if he was grumbling and cussing out loud or on his mind.
β(...) shouldnβt have changed the sheets until you've had a bath first.β You sighed, one strap untied, a few left to go. βYouβll have to get up.β He did. You tell a dog to sit, heβll sit. And heβll wait for a treat, which in this case meant his hands went straight to your hips. He saw you looking up at him, smirked, squeezed your hips, brought you closer, so closer you could barely reach the straps of his armor.Β
βWhat would you want as a token or favor, anyway? You should ask from ladies who have stuff to give away.β
That seemed to get him out of his drunken bliss.Β
βIβd get your apron.β He steadied himself, his grip turning a bit rougher. You laughed, pushed him back a bit, getting some room. Sandor pulled you right back in. He wanted to hump your leg like a dog, lick you all over like a dog, sleep for fifteen hours like a dog, fuck you like a dog. βTie you with it. Gag you with it.β
βYouβre drunk out of your mind, Clegane.β You pulled away, hung a piece of his armor, came back to pull out his gauntlets. βSo drunk you would probably pass out and crush me to death.β
He grumbled about not being drunk, and even though he did not remember closing his eyes, when they opened, he was sitting on his bed and you were kneeling in front of him. Your apron was still on, but his boots were coming off. He reached for your face, held your chin, pressed his thumb over your lips. He really just wanted his balls as empty as his mind was.
Eyes closed again. Just for a second. This time, he remained conscious as he said βWonβt crush you. Iβll fuck you against the wall.β
βYou can barely stand up.β But he did, just to prove you wrong. βWell, you still stink.β You mirrored him, helping him out of his sweat-smelling shirt. βAnd youβre such a bad flirt.β
Sandor really needed some sleep. He wanted a warm bath first, and another sip of his wine, and the feel of you on top of him, and every time you worked another button of his shirt, he imagined your hands around his cock. Gods, he wanted to fuck you.Β
ββM not flirting.β He only registered what he was saying seconds after he already did. But the moment he got a handful of your ass, he felt it then and there. He felt himself lean in, closer, he felt your smell, he felt your lips on his, he felt you pulling back and he cursed. Maybe out loud, maybe in his head again.
βSit down, Clegane.β He obeyed, hoping to get a treat this time. Eyes closed, open again, and you were having a sip of his wine. βLay down. Close your eyes.β He did, grumbling about wanting to smell your cunt on his beard.
Sandor let out a big, deep sigh. When he felt you kiss him, he lifted his hand to pull you closer. Or maybe he just thought of it, imagined it. Or dreamed of it. When he woke up the next day, his room was clean, his armor hung on a corner, bag of gold safely tucked away on his chest, shirt hanging on the chair, boots by the bed⦠Everything in place, and you were not there.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming