It Just Gets Better And Better - Blog Posts

hi! I'm new to this blog as an anon but I lolololoLOVE your writing, like I've started watching game of thrones and the moment sandor was introduced I knew I needed to find fics for this broken man and I needed to fuck him HARD ❗️ I'm so happy bcus u write him so well and so vulgar, bcus nobody else counts in how he considers the women in his life and how he swears like a sailor and his stupid accent like ugh — but you're so good at portraying him. I think I swallowed all of ur fics in one sitting bcus why the hell not

can I maybe possibly request a blurb where sandor fucks you in a headlock? or maybe, where he takes you outdoors against a tree trunk?

thank you :-)

this ask made my day!! i do often rewatch my fav episodes that have him in them to refresh my memory on his demeanour (any excuse to watch him honestly) so i’m glad you think my portrayal is accurate 🫂

table of contents; you’re a baratheon/lannister, outdoor fucking, in public, age gap, brat-taming (kinda), degradation, he takes you roughly from behind what more could we want.

headlock ver

the forest is a peaceful place. your escape from reality. well, royalty. you often come here to let off steam and reconnect with nature — usually after an argument with your petulant twin brother or difficult mother who always takes his side.

it’s quiet here, except for the occasional caw of a crow or rustling of leaves. oh, and the delirious moans that surge from your mouth with each of his animalistic thrusts.

“those pretty little noises are nicer than those fucking songs, princess.” he punctuates the opinion with several harsh ruts against your backside, his heavy sack slapping against your slick with his vigour.

the force propels you forward and you almost smack your head off the trunk he’s got you braced against. your nails scrape at the bark, the rotting wood crumbling as you claw at it. “gods,” you whine, knees quaking. “don’t— mmf! don’t stop. . .”

he chuckles behind you, hooded eyes glued to your arse and the red handprints that stamp it. “won’t fuckin run again, will you?”

you let your forehead thud against the tree as you hug yourself to it, unable to hold your weight up on two feet. “n— ngh. . . no!”

but if this is the consequence for running, you just might.

he lifts you by the hips and you squeal when the ground disappears out from under you, hands grappling with the trunk for balance. “my back was turned for five fucking seconds,” he spits, large hand reaching around to support your middle. “didn’t know where the fuck you’d gone,” he continues, slamming into your behind at a relentless pace.

you mewl, tears brimming in your eyes as something inside of you starts to coil and tighten.

“had me chasing after you like the dog i am.” he doesn’t falter, pistoning his cock into your depths until there’s no portion of his length that isn’t pocketed within your soaking warmth. “that’s all i am to you, isn’t it, princess? your dog.”

you can’t form words, they’re beyond you. all you can do is whimper and gasp for breath as he jackhammers against your cervix, bruised and burning.

“you wanted this, didn’t you? that why you ran?” his rhythm starts to stutter as he teeters on release, but his ferocity doesn’t relent. “wanted me to fuck you bloody?”

you can’t say you’ve never pondered it, you think, since you can’t fathom speech; the pleasure has you by the throat.

“only had to ask, princess.”