I love the “how they react when they are jealous” but— hear me out..
How they react when reader is jealous??👀
(If you haven’t already!!!)
𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬
[+ Ned Stark,Sandor Clegane]
A/n: i’m back and i’m doing better my loves. Also if you got some questions for me let’s do a little q&a i’m little bored so..
➥ Baelor Targaryen -
Baelor notices your jealousy instantly, soft smile appearing on his face. He walks over to you pulling you away from crowd . He cups your face gently thumbs brushing your cheeks “Sweetling” he murmurs, voice warm “do you truly think any woman in the Seven Kingdoms could turn my head when i have you?” He kisses your forehead, then your lips “Let them look, only you get to keep me.”
➥ Maekar Targaryen-
When he catches you glaring at a guest who was too touchy with him earlier ,he scowls “What in the Seven hells is that look for?” But the moment he realizes you are jealous he pulls you onto his lap in front of half the court “Foolish woman” he growls against your ear “you think i have eyes for anyone else when you are mine?” His hand slides over your hip”you have nothing to fear, i am yours until the end of my days”he murmurs before kissing you.
➥ Duncan The Tall-
When he sees you pout in jealousy he looks startled and guilty “My lady?” he asks softly before kneeling in front of you “My lady… I’m not good with words” he mumbles ”but I swear on my sword there’s only one woman whose smile i want to see at the end of every day, and she’s standing right here.”He stays on his knee until you smile, then rises and pulls you against his chest, whispering “You could have any man in the realm. I still don’t know why you picked me… but i’m not letting you go, ever.”
➥ Valarr Targaryen-
when he notices you are jealous he leaves the conversation, appearing next to you sliding arm around your waist “Forgive me, my love, i seem to have forgotten how obvious it is that i am ruined for any other woman.” He spends the rest of the night glued to your side, he makes sure everyone knows whose bed he’ll be in later.
➥ Lyonel Baratheon-
When he sees your eyes turn dark with jealousy Lyonel gets excited. He grins as he picks you up draping you over his shoulder and carries you out of the hall “Woman thinks i’d stray,” he growls once the door is shut, “but i’ll remind her who i belong to”
➥ Rhaenyra Targaryen- She loves it. Rhaenyra’s eyes light up when she catches you getting jealous. “My sweet girl” she purrs“are you taking your claim?” She murmurs pulling you into her lap ,kissing you deeply while her fingers dig into your thigh.
➥ Alicent Hightower - When she notices you are jealous she’s surprised, usually she’s the one who gets easily jealous and possessive so when she sees that you are really hurting she calls you into her chambers ,cupping your face gently“You doubt me?” she whispers, voice cracking. She kisses you softly murmuring promises that her heart only belongs to you.
➥ Daeron Targaryen-
When he sees you jealous he grins ,“oh no” he purrs, sliding arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him “jealous are we? Good ,i like you greedy “.He nuzzles your neck ,while his hand rubs your back.“Shall i tell you how I’m going to worship the jealousy out of you tonight? Or would you rather i drag you to our chambers right now and show you exactly who i belong to?”
➥ Ned Stark - When Ned notices that you are jealous he feels guilty for making you doubt his loyalty even for a second. He excuses himself, takes your hand, and leads you somewhere quiet “My lady” he whispers“you are the only woman i have ever wanted and the only one i will ever want.” Then He kisses you softly. Later in your chambers he holds you close under covers tracing your spine slowly ,murmuring how he will make sure you never feel this way again.
➥ Sandor Clegane - He scoffs at your jealousy at first “Jealous? of what, some cunt?” But when he notices that you are genuinely hurt he softens. He pulls you against his chest, burying face in your hair “You daft woman” he rumbles, “i’d rather fucking die than touch anyone else.”
imagine Sandor and his lady standing at court of King's Landing together, attending some formal event and him whispering all sorts of obsceneties to her ear. to anyone it'd just look like he's taking a protective stance, shielding, or simply occupying space but in reality... cw: utter filth
You stand near one of the massive marble columns, your posture a perfect example of a highborn lady—serene, untouchable, beautiful, and sweet. The Hound is a shadow behind your back, as he always is in public, the word spreading that the Lannisters have their attack dog guarding the pretty ones now.
The court drones on as some minor lord petitions the throne, and Joffrey waves his hand dismissively. You, of course, keep your eyes wide and forward, your face a mask of polite interest, tilting your head occasionally to imitate brain function. Then, just as you're about to doze off, you feel it—a gush of hot air licking the shell of your ear, the subtle shift of his weight as Sandor leans in. It's barely noticeable; he takes a small step, maybe half a step, but it's enough for you to feel his massive frame against your back.
"See that lord with the piggy eyes and the red doublet?" His voice is a gravel rasp against the tiny hairs on your nape.
"... What about him?" Your pulse quickens. What's he up to now, of all times?
"He's been looking at your tits for the past half-hour. The way he's sweating, he's probably thinking about putting his fat mouth on them."
The heat treacherously spreads all the way to your ears, hairline, and chest, and you pray for people to think it's the midday sun getting to you. Maybe if you faint, you'll be spared...
Your breath hitches audibly and your cheeks ignite. Another noble lady standing next to you gives you a questioning look while flapping her fan, and you shake your head with a tight smile. She turns away.
"He has no idea soft they are, does he? How they fit in one hand. How you gasp and moan when I suck on them instead."
Then again, lower, more insistent, "Aye, that's it. That pretty pink I love... Just like you go when I put my mouth on your sweet cunt."
You clench your jaw, willing the tremor that goes through you away, but it's no use. You're shivering, and he notices. He always does, like a dog that smells blood. You hear a silent groan of approval behind the droning buzz of the lordlings.
"Ah, yes, I'm sure that's very interesting, but the lord here is talking about—"
His gloved knuckle brushes over the small of your back and lower until it reaches the expanse of your rear under layers and layers of clothing. So fleeting that no one else can see, but it nearly makes you jump out of your lace slippers, his touch searing through your very bones.
You stomp on his foot. He doesn't even blink.
"What would they say if they knew? All those fine lords and ladies, if they knew how you scream up to the gods when I split your cunt open on my cock? Looking all prim and proper while my cum's still warm, trickling down your legs."
You notice Sansa Stark staring at you from across the hall, an unsure grin on her pale face. Her blue eyes shift elsewhere once they land on the Hound. You suck in a breath. Who else is looking?
"Sandor—" you let out a shaky breath, your voice a fine tremor now. Digging your manicured fingernails into the skin of your wet palms, you pray—you don't know for what.
"Shut up," he whispers into your ear, and his scarred lips nearly brush the side of your face as he shifts closer. "Last night you begged me not to stop, the little proper lady you are, bent over that oak table of yours. Bet you can still feel me inside. Bet you're wet just from that."
His words are filth, crude and obscene, and they send a bolt of pure, aching want straight to your core. You worry your lower lip between your teeth now as you feel his massive hand creep up your arse, right under the folds of your gown. He squeezes the sensitive flesh and tugs at the globe just like he does when he has you on hands and knees underneath him. Images of his calloused hands and mouth on you—grabbing your breasts, your belly, biting your bare thighs, licking your—they have your legs wobbling. Sandor grips your elbow as he continues.
"When this farce is done, you'll wait for me, door unlatched." He pauses, letting the instruction sink in. "Gonna fuck you every way I can think of. Hard and deep, the way you like it. On your feather bed. Against the window. On that soft fucking rug in front of the fire, from behind. Until you're crying on those furs and dripping with my—"
"My lady, are you unwell? You look flushed."
The voice is like a bucket of ice water over your head. Sandor's hand jerks back to his side, yanking your rumpled skirt over your behind. A young knight is looking at you with polite concern. You open your mouth, but only a dry whine comes out, so you nod vigorously like a fool. He mumbles an apology and retreats into the crowd.
"Fucking knights, always sniffing around."
When the king finally rises and the court begins to disperse, you simply walk away. You don't look back; your knees are shaking, madly so, your eyes don't leave your own feet on the stone floor. Sandor tracks the shape of your hips as you turn around the corner in the direction of the private chambers.
Could u something with Sandor Clegane x Princess Reader where shes Roberts first and only trueborn child with Sandor as her sworn protector and secret lover?
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE MY LIFE WILL BE YOURS 😞💔
Sinful Decisions ⋆˚꩜｡
Sandor Clegane x princess!Reader 🫧⭐️🪷
Context: Exactly what the prompt asked
Warnings: Heavy smut! MDNI please... Brief implications of sexual assault (not by the Hound)
a/n: My dear anon, 1000 apologies that I took forever to answer your request :') do forgive me and happy reading! PS I made this extra extra long for you so you had more to read after waiting so long for a reply...
Masterlist link
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Is there anything so undoing as a daughter? Your father would be a fine testament to this saying.
Ever since you were a babe, your father had doted on, spoilt and coddled you to death. Your mother had died when you were young, not long before Robert was made to take Cersei as a wife. But no matter that Cersei had given him sons to further the Baratheon reign, you were always going to be his firstborn child. His trueborn child. Joffrey may be favoured for the throne, but you were favoured in your father’s heart.
Naturally, your father had designated only the best of the best to be your sworn shield and protector. And the cream of the crop was none other than the one they called the Hound — Sandor Clegane. He was a brute who preferred the company of dogs over the company of the highborn. But your father had appointed him to be your guard nonetheless, instructing the Hound to show no mercy to whoever laid a hand on his daughter.
You were skeptical of this Hound at first. You had made a conscious effort to befriend all your prior bodyguards, and those knights had all become close confidants of yours during their service. But the Hound was different. You were both intimidated and offended by his stubborn silence and brooding nature. All your attempts at communicating with the giant were met with a sullen frown or, on a good day, the occasional hmph and scoff of acknowledgement.
But you never gave up. Days turned into weeks and months of you chattering away at the Hound as he had no choice but to follow you around the Red Keep. You inquired about his favourite flowers (he didn't have one), his favourite birds (he thought they all tasted the same), his favourite songs (he only laughed dryly in response to this question), and eventually the Hound had grown somewhat comfortable in your presence.
It surprised him to acknowledge how easy it was to converse with you. How intentional you were with your words, and how attentive you were when he actually spoke. No one had ever paid him this much mind before. And while he never asked you any questions in return, you noticed how he had stopped leaving your queries unanswered.
And so your relationship with the Hound slowly grew into something that resembled a friendship. But there was more than met the eye. Something else had bloomed between the two of you... Something sinful and addictive... A secret the two of you would have to bring to your graves...
Today was Joffrey's nameday.
The little gremlin was eager to dance and drink the night away, listening to Lords and Ladies alike adulate him for how much he'd grown over the year — how much you resemble our dear King, Prince Joffrey! Hurrah!
The dining hall was packed with nobles and servants, their chatter bouncing off the walls and mixing into an incoherent buzz of voices. You sat quietly to the right of your father at the head of the room, pecking at your dinner.
"Are you bored, sweet daughter?"
You turned your head and chuckled as your father offered you a sympathetic smile. He knew you held no love for big feasts and parties unlike your half-brother.
"Nonsense, father. I of all people am delighted to see my brother Joffrey make it another year into his adolescence. What a fine gentlemen he is becoming." Your words were dripping in sarcasm, and this made your father laugh heartily.
Cersei must have heard your little quip as she shot you a contemptuous scowl.
"Perhaps the Princess would be more cheerful if she danced a little with some of the Lords here tonight," Cersei suggested. You couldn't help but roll your eyes a little. Of course she wanted you to go mingle amongst the bachelors of Westeros. She wanted nothing more than to marry you off to some nobleman.
"Thank you for your suggestion, Queen Cersei. But perhaps the Princess is most happy where she is," you replied, flashing your step-mother a courteous smile.
Cersei opened her mouth to respond, ever the sharp-tongued woman, but your father quickly raised his hand and waved her off.
"My daughter will dance with whoever she pleases. If none of the Lords here tonight do not earn her fancy, then she will not dance."
Cersei nodded amicably and turned back to Joffrey on her other side, her training as a Lady Lannister coming in useful as she swallowed her pride. You looked off into the distance and noticed the oil lamps had dimmed down a fair bit. Almost two hours had past since the beginning of the feast.
"Father, may I be excused? I'd like to retire for the night," you said sweetly, patting your father's forearm discreetly.
The King was too engrossed in watching the jester's performance to hear his daughter properly. "Of course, sweet daughter. Take care."
And when he looked back to check on you, you had already slipped out of the dining hall.
You hurried down the corridors of the Red Keep, light on your feet as you climbed up many flights of stairs. You stopped only when you reached the castle turret. It was walled in on all around in a perfect circle, save a small opening in the cobblestone where you could stick your head out and feel the cool night's breeze. You leaned your elbows on the ridge of the opening, sighing as you felt the chilly air brush against your cheeks and chest.
There was a rustle of steps behind you. You smiled to yourself.
“You’re usually more prompt than — Ser!” You jumped back a step when you turned and realised it was Ser Meryn that had followed you up the flight of stairs. "Forgive me, Ser Meryn, you startled me.”
Ser Meryn bowed modestly, but there was an unmistakeable smirk on his face. A smirk that only a woman would recognise as sinister. He reeked of ale and you immediately felt your stomach drop.
The knight approached you gingerly, like an awkward schoolboy trying to appear taller and bigger than he really was.
"Chilly night, isn't it, Princess?"
You gulped and nodded, fidgeting at the hem of your dress. You had never liked Ser Meryn. He was an abrasive and pompous ass who thought too much of himself than he deserved. Not to mention he was a bit of a pervert who always stood too close to you for comfort.
"What are you doing out here all alone, Princess?"
Your mind began to race thinking of an excuse to coax him back to the dining hall. You had no intention of being alone with the knight any longer.
"I just needed a breath of fresh air. The smell of cooked deer never sat well with me. Shall we head back now?"
The knight didn't seem to get the hint. Or if he did, he was blatantly ignoring it as he took a step further towards you.
“I hope it is not too bold of me to say, Princess, that you have grown to become a very fine young lady.”
You writhed in discomfort at his words, fighting with every ounce of will to flash him a dignified smile instead of punching him in the guts. “You are most kind Ser. Shall we return to the dining hall? I’m sure my father is wondering where such a valued member of his kingsgaurd has gone.”
Ser Meryn only chuckled dryly, as if amused by your urgency to go back to the ceremony. He took another step forward, his darkened sunspots and cracked lips illuminated by the moonlight. You instinctively stepped further away until your back was pressed firmly against the cobblestone walls.
“Why in such a rush to get back? Is it a crime for a knight to appreciate the beauty of the princess he has guarded for so long?”
“I am getting hungry again, Ser Meryn,” you asserted more firmly this time. “Let us go back.”
“The party can wait, Princess,” Ser Meryn said as he closed the distance between you two. “I think I have a better idea for us to pass time.”
You snapped and curled your fist into a ball. But before you could deliver a much-deserved blow to Ser Meryn’s face, there was a great thud of boots against the ground, and suddenly a firm hand grasped Ser Meryn’s shoulder from behind, spinning him around with such force that the knight let out an emasculating yelp.
The Hound barred his teeth and shoved a steel dagger against Ser Meryn’s jugular.
“One more word to the Princess and I will pierce this blade so deep into your skull it’ll take 10 men to rip it out,” Sandor growled, his grip on Ser Meryn’s tunic was so tight that he was almost lifted off the ground. Ser Meryn mumbled something incoherent, but the fear in his eyes was apparent.
“Now fuck off before I tell the king and he’ll have you beheaded in the town square.” Sandor released the coward who scrambled away like a dog with a tail between its legs.
You exhaled the tense breath you had been holding, finally relieved in the presence of a trusted face. The Hound turned to face you.
“What do you think you're doing? Running off like that?” Sandor barked, the lines of his brow creased with frustration. “Imagine what he would have done if I hadn’t shown up in time, huh? What then, Princess?”
You crossed your arms defiantly. “Well, I was waiting for you. Or might you have forgotten our little arrangement, Hound?"
Sandor was not amused. You could see the gears in his head turning as he tried to formulate a response, but to no avail. You sighed and rolled your eyes complacently.
"Oh well. I guess I'll just retire for the night then." You yawned, stepping to the side as you made your way to the stairwell exit.
But Sandor was quicker and he grabbed your forearm instantly, spinning you around.
"What a brat you are, Princess. I save you from a rapist and this is what I get? Not even a single word of thanks," he scowled. If you didn't know him so well, you would have thought that he was threatening you. But there was no anger in his eyes, only an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes that you've grown to recognise. A glimmer of desire.
Gently, you placed your free hand on his chest and looked up at him with an innocent smile. "What kind of thanks do you want?"
Sandor's chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm as he held onto your arm. A beat of silence passed between you two as neither of you dared to make a move. Many a time have the both of you shared this moment of stillness. The moment a decision had to be made; to walk away with one's honour, or to indulge in an unspeakable selfish sin. And the decision was the same every time.
Sandor released your arm and grabbed you by the waist. He pulled you to his body and crashed his lips into yours. He tasted like ale and sourleaf. His kisses were hungry. Needy. Devout.
Instinct kicked into both of your bodies as Sandor lifted you off the ground, pressing your back against the cobblestone wall. You wrapped your legs around his torso as your hands cupped his face, tracing the scars on his cheek that you knew so well.
"Sandor..." you whispered into his mouth. You could feel his hardness grow between your legs. Your body ached for him. "I need you."
For all the stubbornness and defiance that Sandor Clegane possessed, when his woman asked something of him, there would be no hesitation in his mind to give her whatever she willed. And you were his woman.
Sandor set you down on the ground and began unbuckling his breeches. His lips never left yours, and his tongue only grew hungrier for your taste. You were soaked just waiting for him.
"Turn around," he commanded. You obeyed immediately, turning to face the wall and pressing both palms against the stone. Sandor hiked up your long dress from behind, drooling at the sight of how perfect you looked.
"Come back a bit," he croaked, enormous hands gripping your hips as he pulled you further against the wall until you were fully stretched out. He pushed your feet apart a little more before lowering himself to the ground.
In the span of his life, the Hound had only ever knelt for two things. One was his king, purely out of duty. And the other was pussy, purely out of devotion.
You gasped as you felt Sandor's hot mouth against your heat. He ran his tongue across your slit, making you yelp as you dug your fingernails into the wall. He grabbed the back of your legs with ease, head tilted all the way back as he began to eat you.
"Gods Sandor..." You panted, already squirming as he flicked his tongue over your clit. He pressed his lips against your entrance and sucked hard, relishing in your juices as they dribbled down his chin. His burly arms kept your legs from buckling inwards as he coaxed more ungodly sounds out of you.
"Sandor! Please... Please I need more... Please," you begged, mouth agape as he grazed his teeth against your clit, sending shudders down your spine. You knew he was smirking as he rose from the floor.
"Tell me what you want, Princess." Sandor grabbed your ass and leaned over you, his massive body pressing down heavy on your back. "I'll give it to you, Princess. Whatever you want. Tell me."
You felt his cock press against the back of your thigh, precum leaking from the tip and dripping down your leg.
"I want you. Now."
That was all the reassurance the Hound needed. He guided his cock to your entrance, the tip swollen and hot as he rubbed it against your folds. You moaned and bucked your hips backwards uncontrollably. Sandor only laughed at how desperate you were for him.
With a low growl, Sandor pushed his cock into you and both of you gasped together. His thick cock stretched your walls so perfectly you could come then and there. As he began to move, one hand grabbing your hips, the other hand grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged it until your neck was craned upwards to the ceiling.
His grunts echoed throughout the turret as he thrust into you, each time with more passion than the last. This was his heaven. This was his prayer to the gods. Your core tightened as you felt every inch of him pulse through you.
"More... More Sandor, please..." You moaned, legs twitching as you closed your eyes in pure bliss. Sandor hummed and snaked his hand down from your hips to your cunt. His calloused fingers found your clit with ease and he pinched your sensitive bud teasingly. You cried out, tears brimming at your eyes as the sensation rippled through your body.
"Whatever you want, Princess... Whatever... Princess..." Sandor repeated in a quiet chant, lost in his own world of pleasure as he rubbed circles on your clit. Your walls squeezed around his cock so good and he felt every fibre of his muscles tense.
"I'm gonna come Sandor... Oh gods... Sandor!"
Sandor only growled lowly as he felt you pulse around his cock. He could read your body like no other. His thrusts became sloppy and his grip on your hair tightened, stinging your scalp in a way that brought only ecstasy to your brain.
"I'm coming Sandor... Oh!" Before you could scream, Sandor released your hair and clasped his gigantic hand across your mouth, muffling your desperate cry for pleasure.
Your entire body convulsed as you came, walls gripping around him and vision going blurry with tears. Sandor came with you, his thick, hot load shooting up into your womb. You bit down on his finger as you rode out your high, Sandor's hand still dancing delicately on your clit. You felt his cum drip down your thighs and spill onto the ground as he pulled out.
He turned you around and caught you as you collapsed into his arms. He steadied you with your back against the wall, his arms on either side of you, as you both caught your breaths. And in that moment, as the night breeze filled the air, with you in his arms, and his seed in your womb, Sandor thought to himself that if the gods struck him down there and then for lechery, he'd die a happy man.
