#And his sassy tea | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deadghosy · 3 months

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Hey!! I have a request! Could you do the hazbin hotel characters and fem! CatNap reader! I know CatNap is a boy but I would like to see what kind of head canons they would have for a female version of CatNap. Also maybe reader would love chasing things around since cats do that?

HAZBIN HOTEL X FEM CATNAP!READER HEADCANNONS

prompt: you are female resident who helps sinners with insomnia

OKAY FIRST OFF! YOU DEFINITELY STILL SMELL LIKE VANILLA AND LAVENDER!🦆 NO ONE CAN ARGUE ABOUT THIS TO ME 😭

What I headcannon is kinda cartoony as reader has her legs cross as she just nods listening to a sinner’s sleep problem as she is just wearing glasses and a vest. Dead ass she just knocks them out like. “Problem solved!”

Charlie made you a room so residents and sinners could come in and have you help them sleep. Like either you knock them out and walk away. Or you actually stop being a lazy mofo and help them personally.

I headcannon based on the fluffy plush bodies that reader is still flat like the male catnap, cause obviously she doesn’t have a chest just like the plush body of Bobby bearhug. That’s basically how I imagine reader’s body is with her being like a little more skinny but definitely having trouble with people asking what her gender is.

“I’m a fucking cat, that’s what I am.” Is what reader would say irritated as it’s obvious in her feminine/decent voice.

Sassy catnap!reader is a goal as you would literally just do shit for shits and giggles😭✨🔥

Headcannon you have a purple vest with a white dress shirt and a black or white skirt with a few moon patterns on it while the color of your dress shirt as a moon pendent💗🦆

You straight up knocked a person out with your red smoke because they had sexualized you during the session and all you had to say was. “Oh really? Count to three…” “count to wh-” immediate knocked out as they fell face first from the chair as you smile with a full grin.

You used your claws to cut open a piece of candy for nifty as she hugs you and walked away happy. You love helping….

Alastor ran from you as you were chasing after him like a predator because he said he doesn’t need sleep…okay so imagine this….

You are sneaking like a lion behind Alastor as he drinks tea and he is like “I feel watched” with a sweatdropped and next thing people see in the halls is you grinning as you drag a motionless Alastor who still holds his tea up.

You wrapped your tail around Charlie to help her put up a banner as you file your claws as it was time to trim them. Like I imagine that as vaggie is like “What.” With a blank confused face seeing her girlfriend get lifted by a 8ft tall female cat

I can see reader having those teas that help people to sleep just incase they don’t like being passed out “force”. So you just make them tea as you listen to them rant as they fall asleep

Imagine reader reading a book as Lucifer is having a hyper moment behind her as she just peacefully reads….

It gives off “calm friend x hyper friend” vibes

Lucifer had one time patted you, and kept petting you until you purred so he can feel relaxed. He likes your purrs.

The duck king definitely has a picture of you purring on his lap…he even has it as his wallpaper kinda because of how soft and good smelling your fur is

OOOH IMAGINE YOU AND ANGEL HAVING A FASHION SHOW IN HIS ROOM💗🦆

Angel definitely gets you some nice clothes to match your aesthetic or purple clothing with white and cream.

You carry nifty in your mouth as if she was your kit….its cute okay…like niffty straight up smile as you hold her like your own kitten.

“This is ma mom now!” Nifty says happily as you just walk around with the back of her dress in your mouth.

Cherri bomb was good about you by Angel dust as Angel had put an image of how cool and badass you are at not following the rules. She always tries to persuade you into giving her your red smoke to make bombs out of it. SHE ONLY WANTS TO CAUSE DESTRUCTION!!!🦆‼️

Sir Pentious brings his egg boiz to you when they can’t sleep so you can use your red smoke on them. They snuggle in your purple fur as you just play a lullaby for them

I imagine you and husk purring by each other out of no where confused…but it’s because of your peaceful scent installed in your fur and body.

You still have your signature cocky smile before you knock a bitch out with the gas coming from your mouth.

I can see how you have a moon ring as [favorite hazbin hotel character] has a sun ring to show off your friendship with them

Imagine how reader gets groomed by the whole hazbin hotel crew because of their 8ft tall frame…there’s a lot of extra work in grooming your fur.

You definitely have those candles as well with that lavender smell with hint of vanilla. You have so much aromatherapy stuff for people. You might as well be the aroma goddess-

I headcannon you using your demon form (basically that form where the player sees catnap as a skinny monster) to scare people 😭 you’re an asshole as I imagine Angel getting ready for his morning to only see you behind the shower curtain with a creepy smile

Angel screamed and ran out the room looking crazy…..😭 Charlie found out and made you apologize to Angel as he was locked in his room..

He’s definitely not going to the bathroom alone-

Just like my other catnap! Reader, you definitely walk around slowly but stealthy releasing that poppy gas just incase a resident or your friends try sneaking out. “It’s time for bed…” you says quietly as you move smoothly around the hotel hallways

Just like before, Lucifer was scared of you until you showed him you can be quite the loving person you can be. Like Lucifer will lay on your body for comfort if he was getting busy from paper work in his office.

I can imagine Angel trying to get you to use your gas on Valentino and you’re like “sure” as you put a jar to your mouth and release it and give it to Angel.

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amaranthineghost · 1 month

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NOW IM BACK IN OUR EMPTY APARTMENT, LOOKING AT THE PIECES I WISH WERE YOU ( max verstappen. )

max verstappen x reader

an imperfect relationship between world champion max verstappen and a busy college student now filled with more tension as he fails to hold his tongue after a disappointing race.

authors note: love writing for max, i might have to do it more!!!

HE DIDN'T MEAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEN. it snowballed into something he had imagined before but never would've expected it actually happening to him. he could normally control his temper, especially when it came to her. sure, there was a few moments that stood out in his career when he had gone over the limit on certain occasions, going as far as to push another driver, but he would always separate his home life and his career.

at least he would try to. the australian grand prix hadn't played out like he had wanted, or anyone for that matter, because no one wants their car to get fucked and have to retire. especially on the third lap, it was just embarrassing. he was struggling the entire weekend, though his spirits temporarily lifted when he had managed to get pole position. he knew he would, but after the struggles throughout the practice sessions, he hadn't been too sure.

he just wished she would've been there to see it, but she was stuck in their apartment with their cats, jimmy and sassy. she had to do her college work, that was due all too soon, before she could go running around to his races. despite being financially supported by her talented boyfriend, she wanted things to do when he wasn't around, and while school work wasn't exactly many people's cup of tea, it was hers.

she liked the possibilities that came with the experience and maybe one day, she could land a job that would put her in line with her beloved driver. sure, she loved visiting the paddock as a wag, but she would love it more from behind the scenes. of course dating a driver, she already gets to see more than the average person, but she wanted to do something worthwhile with her time in the paddock.

he understood, but he had the only condition of letting him pay for her schooling. debt wasn't fun, and he wouldn't let her fall into that burden. besides, max would love to be able to see his girl working hard in the paddock, but now he wasn‘t so sure if she was his anymore.

he was agitated, she was stressed, and they both knew they didn't mix. they should’ve just waited to see each other in person, but they were both missing each other at the time.

she watched the race on the tv in their bedroom with her laptop on her lap with her latest, big assignment due in the next few days. she was struggling, and she figured it was better to get as much time to work on it as possible so she opted out of flying to australia. still, she watched, hardly stressed, because she knew max was an amazing driver.

but come the race on sunday, his dnf shocked her. she was riddled with worry and part of her wished she had been there. maybe if she had been, this whole thing could’ve been avoided, but the stress she felt now would’ve only worsened had she been with him.

upon the smoke trailing out of his car, hearing the commentators say he had dropped positions, seeing the puff of smoke when his car rolled down the pit lane, the fire on his brake duct, she shut her laptop instantly. now she was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyeing the screen closely, phone on standby to call him after. she leaned her head on her hands while her elbows dug into her legs.

she watched his tense answers to the media, his uninterested attitude because she knew all he wanted to do was get to his driver's room for peace and sulking. she knew and yet she still made the mistake of calling him right after.

she hadn’t waited long for him to answer, but he didn’t answer right away. hearing no answer from his side of the phone, she spoke first.

“hey,” she spoke as gently and nicely as she could.

“hey.” his voice was short and straightforward, as if he didn’t care about anything she was going to say.

finding the right words to say was like walking on eggshells and there wasn't a lot of room to go. she just hoped she took a step in the right direction when she asked him, “how are you doing?”

“what do you think?” she sighed, biting at the inside of her cheek

“not great,” she muttered, he hummed back in response, which just made her even more unsure of her next words, “ ‘m sorry you has to retire from the race.”

“sorry doesn’t fix the car,” she heard him mumble under his breath, earning a scoff from her.

“excuse me?” her tone was like she had accused him of something, “i get you’re mad right now max, but that doesn’t mean you can be an asshole. i’m just trying to help.”

he scoffed back and she could feel the eye roll he would’ve given her, “yeah, well you're not.”

“what is wrong with you?” she stood up, anger coursing through her.

“i don’t know, maybe the fact that my race was fucked and now you’re bitching to me about my attitude.”

she hadn’t thought before speaking, in moments of high stress she just said whatever she felt, and so did he. what she felt right now was annoyance and anger, “fuck you max,” was all she could spit back, taking a deep breath being speaking again. “news flash, you’re not the only person in the world dealing with shit, it's one race that you got out on, grow up.”

with that she hung up, and he heard the dial tone from his phone, regret beginning to seep past his clothes and into his skin, his nerves, his brain. he just majorly fucked up the most important thing in his life because to him she was more important than his career points, the car, the championship, his entire career, and he just threw her aside in the height of his anger.

he tried calling back immediately after he realized what he had just done, but it had just gone straight to voicemail. when that all failed, he spammed texts, or paragraphs more like, about how sorry he was and how she didn’t deserve the attitude he gave her, but it did nothing.

she sat and watched as the texts and missed calls flooded in. while she understood he was angry, it didn’t give him the right to talk to her like that so she left her phone unanswered while she had gotten up to pack. in less than a few hours, she knew max would be back in this apartment, probably on his knees, begging for forgiveness from her. she knew she would forgive him the moment he did so she wanted to get away before he could.

it didn’t take long, she hadn’t packed her entire life away, but a single suitcase and carry-on bag was enough to last her until she decided to patch things over. taking one last look over her shoulder, one last pet of their cats before she had closed the door behind her. knocking on the apartment door of their neighbors to ask them to care for the felines like they did whenever he left for races and she went alongside him.

but in recent months, moreso in the 2023 season, she found herself attending fewer races than she used to because of the growing tension and stress between the pair. it didn't help that they didn't talk it through, they couldn't because they didn't have the time. she had college, he had formula one, and they both had no time to meet in the middle to amend whatever was broken before. whatever was broken remained as such and only cracked further as time went on and the pressure increased.

they knew they should've come together and met in the middle, but they were both petty and too stubborn. it was another reason they clashed, but they also just worked so well.

he was hoping this was going to be the one time they could've found that time to talk, to sit down and have a deep conversation that lasted hours, that they would've ended up getting side-tracked from and begun to talk about random topics, like they used to. laying on her back with her head in his lap and his fingers through her hair as they laughed at funny memories, or moments they had experienced together.

but when he came home to a quiet, empty apartment, he knew. he knew he shouldn't have hoped for something that was unlikely to happen. his cats rubbed against his legs as he walked about the apartment. dirty dishes that had yet to be washed sitting in the sink, blankets unfolded in the couch and doors left open. the air was stale without her presence and he was left to wallow in it. her absence was a sting against his skin as he kicked off his shoes, seeing a couple pairs less than what there usually was, hanging up his coat alone because hers were now gone.

everything was a reminder if how he had treated her, the words he spat like venom all because he had retired from a single race. he can't stop hearing her venomous last words to him, her tone was like he was the scum on the bottom of her shoe. he might’ve well have been because he sure felt like he was. a piece of trash for the way he spoke, granted he was angry, but he didn't have the right, he never would have the right to talk to her like that.

the floorboards creaked under him, cutting through the silence only interrupted by the sounds of his clothes brushing together as he walked. he peered into the various rooms of the house, seeing half the items she would normally have that had been left behind. pieces of her he was left to further sulk with.

it was cruel, but he understood cruel was what he deserved. he deserved seeing the messy, unmade bed that remained empty for hours after she left. covers pulled back like she had just gotten up to see him, except she hadn't.

she was gone, and he hadn't known where, or if she would even come back. he could only hope that she wished to mend their cracked and shattered relationship as much as he wanted now.

he could only hope.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @kaa212 @nhlfs @thearchieves

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

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perlelune · 2 months

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Sippy Cup | Coriolanus Snow

The war never left you, so you find a way to cope. One where you never lost your childhood. One where the world is still pure and safe. And Coriolanus can't resist that innocence.

Warnings: NON-CON, Dd/lg, Little!Reader, Innocence Kink, Mentions of war, PTSD, Manipulation, Age Regression, Capitol!Reader

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

The first time Coriolanus catches you and Tigris playing Tea Party, you expect to find disdain in his eyes, mockery perhaps. Instead, another emotion blooms in the blond’s cerulean gaze. Curiosity.

It happens on a sweltering Tuesday afternoon, the sizzling summer rays spilling through the half-drawn lace curtains of your bedroom. As usual, you and Tigris are sitting across from each other with Teddy occupying the third seat between the two of you. He is being his sassy self, of course, complaining about the sitting arrangement and wanting more tea cakes on his plate. You scold him, reminding him what happened the last time he went on a sugar high. Teddy’s eyes are much bigger than his stomach.

Nervousness slithered through you when you confessed your secret to Tigris. You didn’t want to, initially. You missed several days of class at the Capitol University in a row and your best friend grew concerned enough to show up at your house unannounced. She found you right here, playing with your dolls and chatting with your bear.

You explained to her that the pressure to be big is too much sometimes, that instead of shaking and crying on the floor of the girls’ bathroom, you come here. Once you enter your bedroom, every single woe vanishes. Your head is empty and your heart is full. You’re a carefree, happy little girl once more.

To your surprise, there isn’t a shred of judgment in Tigris’ eyes when you tell her. She never utters a single bad word about the neat rows of dolls and plushies adorning your shelves, your soft pink walls, your frilly dresses or the ribbons in your hair. When you reveal your little secret to her, what you did to ward off the nightmares, she simply listens, hands on her chest as her blue eyes fill with tears. You tell her the pink helps erase the red. The same red that splattered across the pavement when your parents and brother’s bodies hit the ground during the First Rebellion. You were still holding your brother’s hand when he fell. You held it even as his palm grew cold and stiff against yours. If it weren’t for the Snow cousins prying your weeping form off his that day, you might have stayed there and met the same fate.

Tigris gave you the warmest hug. Then she asked if she could play with you, if that’d cheer you up. You were ecstatic. Since that day, Tigris would play dolls with you, attend your tea parties and even fill out your coloring books with you sometimes. You never have to pretend with Tigris. Don’t have to pretend to be a big girl. Or speak long, complicated words. Or care about big, important things. You can just be a princess in her pink castle.

It’s why ice scatters in your veins when Coriolanus watches you and Tigris from the ajar door.

“You weren’t coming home, so I came to check on you,” he mumbles as he takes in the scene before him. Your face heats beneath Coriolanus’ wide-eyed stare.

Alarm flickers over Tigris’ face.

“You need to learn to knock, Coryo,” she chides. She whispers a gentle apology to you before getting to her feet. She nudges Coriolanus outside of your bedroom and they head to the bottom of the stairs.

Eavesdropping is bad; you know it. Good little girls don’t peep or listen through the door. But you can’t help it. Heart in your throat, you try to hear the whispered conversation between Tigris and her cousin. You only catch snippets. Your best friend’s voice is a little harsher than you’re used to, like she’s a bit upset.

Don’t you dare make fun of her.

She needs this, Coryo.

Stark blue eyes lock with yours from afar. Your heart slams against your ribcage. You hastily shove the door closed, rushing back to your pink wooden chair.

You pick up Teddy and cradle him against your chest. “Coryo is our friend,” you remind him. “He wouldn’t make fun of us.” Teddy is uncharacteristically quiet. You feel tears rush to your eyes, your bear’s doubts starting to creep into you.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

The deep voice rolling over you yanks you from your thoughts. Your head whips up. Coriolanus’ hunkering at your side, his head tilted in inquiry. You glance past his shoulder. Tigris is standing behind her cousin with her arms folded, her wary gaze glued to his form.

“Join us?” you repeat, dazed by his question.

The corners of the blond’s lips lift.

“Yes, it’s a tea party, isn’t it?”

Your gaze bulges. You never expected to hear such words spilling from Coryo’s mouth. He’s always so serious, so very serious, having no time for games. He’s been like that for as long as you can remember.

You wipe your tears and sniffle.

A little defensive, you clutch fistfuls of your pink dress.

“Tea parties aren’t for boys. They’re for princesses,” you state curtly.

Coriolanus’ expression softens as he considers you.

“Then I could be a knight, from a visiting kingdom.” You purse your lips, brows knitting. The blond’s warm breath caresses your ear as he bends over you, “Knights protect princesses.”

You mull it over. It’d be nice to have someone watch over you and Teddy, make sure no rebels storm your castle walls, paint your heart-covered walls red. You pluck your teddy bear from his stool and question him.

“What do you think, Teddy?” A very serious conversation silently occurs between you and your plushie. After a few minutes, you hum and nod, agreeing with him. Your eyes rise to meet Coryo’s. “Teddy says he’s okay with it.”

A bright smile unfurls on Coriolanus’ handsome face.

“That’s wonderful, princess.”

Over time, Coriolanus’ visits grow more frequent. He even gets into the habit of bringing you gifts, like new plushies and sugary treats. Despite your reluctance to include him because he’s a boy and boys can be mean and smelly, the time you spend with him is always a highlight in your day. Coryo is never smelly; he smells like the flowers in the Grandma’am’s garden and fresh pine. And he’s not mean. He never fails to be sweet to you, bowing to you and kissing your hand like a knight would, and always embracing every one of your games.

He becomes a fixture in your weekly tea parties, often accompanying Tigris or showing up when she’s too busy at the workshop to make it.

Somehow he always finds time for you, even if you know he’s so busy with important, grown-up things. You’re delighted. While playing alone is fun, your imagination knowing no bounds, it’s always better with a friend.

Today is one of these days. It’s just you and Coryo hanging out in your bedroom. He spends most of the evening handing you crayons while you color in the new picture book he got you, a comfortable silence swaddling the both of you. Coryo appears content just observing you, a peaceful smile hovering on his lips. The book is full of beautiful drawings of birds and landscapes. You never had one this nice so you were beyond thrilled to start coloring it.

When the sky gets darker outside your window, you sit up. You turn to Coryo.

“It’s getting late. I guess it’s time for the tea party to end. It was lovely of you to visit us, Sir Coriolanus and we hope-”

“Tigris said you were having nightmares,” he interrupts.

You go still, the crayons between your fingers clattering to the floor.

“That was a secret,” you mutter, your chest clenching. Why would Tigris tell him that? She’s your best friend. She should keep all your secrets forever. As you simmer in disappointment, Coryo places his fingers under your chin and lifts it. Your tearful gaze meets his.

“You can trust me too, princess,” he assures softly.

As you drown in his gaze, you get lost in a memory. Suddenly all the pink in your room is gone. Unmoving bodies. Gaping mouths. Hollow eyes.

Bright red ribbons flowing from their mouths. Crimson confetti popping from their bellies.

Everything in your vision becomes red.

You curl against the edge of the bed and close your eyes.

Hands on the side of your head, you take a deep breath. You slowly open your eyes again. You focus on the plushies sitting on your shelves until the somber clouds over your thoughts turn into cotton candy again.

You coax a shaky smile onto your lips.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Can we just play?”

He chuckles.

“It’s too late for games, princess. Isn’t it your bedtime by now?”

“Then I guess you should go, Coryo,” you say, resting your chin against your knees.

Coriolanus pauses, studying you for a while.

His next words are barely above a whisper.

“Or I could stay.” His large hand drapes over yours, covering your knees. “I could sleep in your bed with you.”

Shocked that he’d even suggest such a thing, you gasp.

“Boys and girls don’t sleep in the same bed,” you mumble.

He cocks his head, amusement swimming in his blue eyes.

“But I’m not a boy. I’m your knight, remember?”

Happiness flows through you with this reminder.

“Yes, you are,” you chime.

His fingers slowly drag over your joined knees.

“Actually…I could be more than your knight, princess.” His gaze locks with yours. “I could be your daddy.”

Your forehead creases, confusion mounting inside you.

“My daddy?”

His lips twist in an uneven smile.

“Yes…daddies protect their little girls. Just like knights.” His fingers drift down to your ankle, the warmth of his touch seeping through your thigh high socks. “They don’t let anyone hurt their pretty princesses. And they keep the nightmares and monsters away at night.”

Amazement colors your tone with this knowledge.

“Really?”

“Of course.” He cups your cheek. “I could sleep in the bed with you and keep my little girl safe that way.”

“I could even tell you a bedtime story.”

Your eyes light up. “A bedtime story?”

He fondles your cheek, his expression softening.

“Of course, anything for my sweet little girl.”

You climb into bed, your entire body shaking in anticipation. Coryo removes his shoes. He picks a book from your shelf and joins you on the bed. He gets under the covers with you and tucks your head against his chest. He opens the book to the first page, his tone patient and clear as he begins to read the tale to you. Your lids sag as you relax against Coryo, his fingers absently stroking the top of your head. You get engrossed in the story of a princess who gets lost on her way home. Lulled by his deep voice, you sink into sleep before the story’s even done.

For the first time in a while, a dreamless slumber welcomes you that night.

When Coryo’s tall frame slips through your door that day, hope twitches inside your chest.

Tigris promised she’ll come today. She’s canceled on you so much lately and expressed how awful she feels about it, so you have been looking forward to seeing her again.

For some reason, work has been exceptionally busy these last few weeks. And while you understand how important work is to your best friend, you’ve missed her so much.

However as he clicks the door shut and you realize no one’s trailing behind Coriolanus, your shoulders slump.

The faint hope you harbored withers away.

“I thought Tigris was coming today.”

Coriolanus sighs as he inches towards you.

“I know princess…” He plucks your hands from your lap. “But there was an emergency at the dress shop. It’s gonna keep her the whole night.” His lips graze the back of your hand. “I’m sorry, she said it was more important than being here.”

Your mouth flies open.

More important than being here? Coryo’s words drive a dagger through your chest, his sympathetic expression twisting it even more.

You lower your head. Tigris has had a lot of emergencies lately. You hardly spend any time together anymore. Part of you even wonders if maybe she’s sick of playing with you. After all, Tigris is a big girl with many things to do. You know she dreams of becoming a stylist and that’s likely more important than silly little girl games. You swallow the tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

Coryo cradles your face.

“But daddy’s here to play with you.”

Your voice trembles as you quell a sob. You look at him, warmth flowing through your chest. Your daddy’s right. You have no reason to be sad. After all, he’s with you. Just like he’s held you against him so many times in the last few weeks, reading you stories to help you fall asleep, and cheering you up whenever you felt sad, you can always count on your daddy.

“That’s amazing, daddy.”

His eyes seem to flare with an idea.

“Actually I thought we could play a new game today.”

Curiosity widens your gaze. “A new game?”

Coryo pulls you closer, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“Yes.” He pauses before revealing slowly, “It’s called ‘Mommy and Daddy’, princess.”

“Mommy and daddy?” Your brows squeeze together in confusion. “Tigris and I have never played that before.”

Coryo licks his lips, his gaze running over you.

“It’s a special game between daddies and their little girls,” he explains, his tone lower than before.

“I don’t know it.”

A deep chuckle parts from his lips. You frown, not understanding what’s so funny.

“I know you don’t, sweet girl,” he says. fondling your cheek. A tilted smile blooms on his lips. “It’s okay because Daddy can teach you all about it.”

You feel nothing but complete trust as Coriolanus nudges you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You look up at him, a mix of confusion and curiosity written on your features. He smiles at you, sinking to his knees to remove your shoes.

You watch him do it, wondering why they need to be off for the game. Your daddy’s palm lingers on the sole of your socked feet, his finger traveling upward, dragging over your ankle.

His eyes look a little weird now, though you can’t explain in what way. You frown, the air around you growing colder.

Did you forget to close the window?

He crawls over you, pushing you down on the mattress. Coriolanus’ smell surrounds you and your nose twitches. You’re not used to being so close to him. You can make out every detail of his handsome face, trace every one of his long lashes, and distinguish every line on his face.

He scrutinizes your form beneath him, one hand beside our head while the other sweeps under your thigh.

“What’s going on, daddy?” you ask, your voice trembling.

“It’s a game that’s easier played on a bed, princess.”

You give a nod of understanding. He strokes the side of your face, pride lacing his tone.

“Such a good girl.”

He bends his head against your shoulder. You hold your breath, a little uncomfortable for a reason you can’t place. Daddy drops a kiss at the base of your neck. Goosebumps spark on your skin. His kisses go lower and lower, his large hands following the same path.

When his fingers land between your legs, your eyes go wide with confusion.

“D-Daddy, what are you doing?”

A soft gasp leaves you as he begins to rub your cotton panties.

“There’s a special place where daddies touch mommies,” he whispers. He clutches at your center and the breath dies your throat. Your body gets hotter, your belly tightening as he pinches you in a particular spot. Coriolanus’ fingers go up and down. It both hurts and doesn’t hurt. Twisting and pulsing in a foreign way the more he touches you. Overwhelmed by the feeling spreading all the way to your toes, you cling to his arms for support.

His blue eyes are glued to your squirming frame as he traces circles around that little spot that leaves you feeling strange.

The hand besides your head moves, drifting to unbutton his pants. Your heart skips a beat as a part of your daddy you never saw is revealed to you. It’s big and red at the tip. You tense, heat rushing through you as you look away.

“Look at me, princess,” he instructs, drawing your quivering chin back to him. He presses himself against your little girl parts. Whimpers spill from your mouth as he humps you through your clothes, pinning you underneath his frame.

His hot breath rolls over your face.

“How does it feel?”

“A little weird.” You shake your head, a surge of tears threatening to break free beneath your lashes. “I don’t know if I like this game…”

He frames your chin, squeezing more tightly than usual. “Do you want to make daddy happy, princess?”

“Y-Yes,” you stammer.

His thumb skims over your shuddering mouth.

“This is daddy’s favorite game to play with his princess.”

“Okay…”

Your mood sinks. You’re liking the game less and less the longer it goes on, but you don’t want to disappoint your daddy who held you almost every night to chase away the bad dreams. His daddy thing gets heavier and bigger against your belly while he moves. He grunts, his throat rippling. The sensation is almost too much to bear, your vision swaying as he stimulates your little girl parts.

Daddy’s game is a little strange, you’re starting to think, and it’s making you feel weird things. Weird, tingly things. And it makes the room spin like a carousel.

You try to close your legs, stop the wave of strange, uncomfortable feelings…But Coriolanus wedges himself between your thighs, forcing your knees apart.

“Daddy…”

His brow twitches. “Shh, let daddy take care of you, princess.” His lips cover yours, smothering all your doubts. You feel bruises form on your mouth and cheek as he kisses you harshly. Lips trailing down to your neck, he pulls your panties down your legs.

There’s barely time for you to register the cool air hitting your bare center before he’s starting to push himself in. The pain strikes you mute at first. Just the tip of him is so much. Too much. It feels like you will break any second. Coriolanus pants above you, straining to fit as you squeeze around him, fear and pain throbbing through you.

“It’s okay, princess. Daddy’s got you,” he mutters.

When he sinks even further, a broken sob leaves you. A fire burns you from inside, amplifying every time your daddy moves ever-so-slightly.

Tears fill your eyes to the brim.

“I don’t like this game, daddy. Can we stop playing, please?”

He wipes your tears with soft kisses. The words pouring into your ear, while uttered sweetly, are firm. “The game’s not over until daddy says it is, princess.”

Your breath falters as he goes all the way inside. He hums deep in his throat, draping himself over your shaking frame. Your head lolls to the side, your eyes wandering to your dolls and stuffed animals. The abrupt urge to poke their eyes out so they don’t have to see any of this blooms inside you. Tears stream down your cheeks as Coriolanus thrusts inside you. His throaty moans mingle with the slapping of skin against skin. The noises your daddy makes get louder every time he slams into you. He spreads your thighs more, pushing deeper. When you tighten around him, your daddy moans, his eyes rolling back.

“You’re squeezing daddy’s cock so well, princess,” he lauds, knuckles dragging over your temple.

He goes faster, hitting sensitive parts that draw sharp noises of agony from you. Every part of your body is wide awake with pain and discomfort. Numb with a plethora of confusing, terrifying emotions, you don’t move as his hips snap into yours relentlessly.

The game lasts for hours, it seems. You’re thankful when daddy appears done, his movements getting sloppier as his pace slows.

As his hips stutter, his hand wraps around your jaw.

“Daddy’s going to come inside you, so you have to say ‘thank you’”

A hoarse sigh leaves him, his lashes fluttering as he empties himself inside you. You shudder.

“Thank you for coming inside me, daddy,” you mechanically repeat. Bile rises in your throat as the excess gathers around your folds, pooling over your once pristine white sheets.

His sweaty form folds over yours. Another tear slides down your cheek.

“Such a good girl for me.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck and coos, “We’re going to play so many fun games together, princess.”

Your stomach curls with dread at that promise.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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the-dendrophile-bookdragon · 3 months

Text

The Dragon and his Wolf

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!Stark!reader

Warnings: Daemon and his pure Valyrian blood obsession, he is a bit of an ass in the beginning, becomes obsessed after, sassy Stark reader, smut

Summary: Daemon always prided himself with the knowledge of having pure Valyrian blood. The wish of his grandmother changes his views drastically.

Daemon always prided himself with the knowledge of having pure Valyrian blood. He always proclaimed his wife would be the same. A woman of pure Valyrian descendants. Until his grandsire, King Jaehaerys betrothed him to a savage. A woman of the North. A wolf. A Stark. It was the wish of his late grandmother, Queen Alysenne, for one of her grandchildren to be bonded with her beloved North.

He was taken aback. Screaming to not marry her. Claiming he would rather cut off his cock then marry a savage wolf of the North. King Jaehaerys looked at his grandson with anger flowing through him. “You will as I say. Or you will be offered to Castle Black.” His voice boomed through the throne room. Begrudgingly he bowed to his grandsire and king’s demand. Daemon seethed quietly swearing every Valyrian curse word he knew under his breath.

Prince Baelon, Daemon’s father, took his son’s shoulder and escorted him out to the courtyard. He led him to the training grounds and threw him a wooden sword. “Come on. Let’s spar. I haven’t seen you hold a sword in a long time.” He grinned at his younger son.

Daemon scoffed at the training sword. He hadn’t held a training sword in his hands since he was nine years old. Now ten years later he had Dark Sister, his family’s ancestral sword. “These swords are shit, father.” Baelon laughed. “You can’t be so picky when you are on the battlefield surrounded by enemies and you lose your sword. You have to take the nearest sword,” He swung at his son with another training sword. Daemon blocked immediately. “Or you will be dead.”

Baelon smiled proudly as Daemon blocked his blow. “I am proud of you. I hope you know that.” Daemon grinned at his father’s soft words. “I know father.”

Meanwhile in Winterfell resided Daemon’s bride. A quiet, timid thing. Her father wanted to shield her from anything he could but an order from the King was an order. Starks were known to never break an oath.

So she was packed and shipped off to King’s Landing a fortnight after the letter of the king arrived. A carriage ride so long the young Lady Stark wished she could have flown with a dragon.

The first meeting with Prince Daemon was unpleasant, to say the least. He made no attempts to converse as both of them strolled through the gardens. He didn’t even so much as look at the young lady.

Hurt and anger bubbled up inside her chest. Emotions she rarely brought forward. The young Stark stopped in her tracks and turned to her betrothed. “Have I done anything to upset you, Prince Daemon? Given you a reason to be cross with me?” Anger was sparkling in her icy eyes as Daemon looked at her.

He raised an eyebrow but went on. Not answering his betrothed questions. She looked away from him. Her anger brewed quietly as she walked on. The awkward situation going on for hours.

His behaviour towards his betrothed went on even until their wedding. He ignored her, dismissed her, and never listened, to or answered her questions. The young lady felt smaller than she ever had. Which Daemon saw and liked. He wanted to break the savage, young wolf. He heard about the proud Starks of the North. He wanted to break her; show the Starks they gave him the weakest wolf of the pack.

But she knew better. And slowly she turned the tables on her betrothed. Every time Daemon called upon her, she would decline. Saying she wasn’t feeling well or she needed to prepare for the wedding. Sometimes even giving some lazy excuses like attending an afternoon tea with the ladies of the court. Most of the time she lied so she wouldn’t have to face her betrothed. It was a repeating occurrence she would sit in the library in an armchair in a far corner of the impressive room. What she didn’t know was this corner was Daemon’s.

Daemon became frustrated shortly after the third rejection. He couldn’t play with her feelings today. Which frustrated him to no end. Not even the whore in front of him gave him the kick he needed. His mind drifted off to her. He imagined the young Stark being held down by the neck while he drove inside of her.

The woman’s moans became hers. The woman’s begging became hers. Her skin and hair turned into his betrothed’s. Daemon reached his peak faster than ever before. He pulled out, releasing his seed on the woman’s back. As he looked at the woman, he imagined how she would look with his seed on her back. Or how the sight of his spend leaking out of her cunny would look like. He wondered how fertile northern women were to other Westerosi women.

His mind whirled around until it came to a shrieking halt. The she-wolf had entered his mind and made residence there. Tormenting him every waking hour. She began to even plague his dreams. Sometimes he would only dream about her in different scenarios. Like when she smiled softly, a soft blush on your cheeks as she tried to converse with him.

And some nights, he dreamed about their impending wedding night. How she looked up at him, pupils blown mouth open as she softly moaned his name. How she would gasp when he drove into her. How she would cling to him for support. How her back would arch or how she would look on top of him. Riding him.

He woke up after those dreams fairly hard and aching. Yearning to be touched, but not by anyone except his she-wolf.

Lady Stark sat in the library reading when she felt a presence standing in the room. She looked up and saw a bewildered Daemon with a book nearly falling out of his hand. “Something wrong, Prince Daemon?” She softly whispered. Daemon couldn’t answer her right away. He looked at the book and read the title. History of old Valyria. He didn’t know his future lady wife had an interest in history. But then he remembered he didn’t know her at all.

“A history book. Are you interested in a time before us?” He sounded meek which made the corners of her lips quirk. But the young lady didn’t want to be as mean as him. So she indulged in the conversation. “Yes, very much. I find it fascinating to learn from what our ancestors did so we would end up here where we are. Maybe even learn from their mistakes.”

Daemon’s eyes widen. She was young, one and six to be precise. But wiser than some Septons would ever be. More mature than him with his ten and eight. His father often said he was still a boy learning. And his father was right, he was still a boy learning. Learning about his future spouse.

He now saw how immature and juvenile his actions were until now. Drinking until the early morning and blacking out. Indulging in carnal acts with prostitutes. He was once proud of being called Prince of Flea Bottom, the Rouge Prince. But now he wasn’t so sure anymore. He wanted her to be proud of him. He needs the approval of her. In the last few weeks, he became obsessed with his Lady Stark.

“May I sit with you? Mayhaps show you more books on the subject of old Valyria?” She smiled softly making his heart flutter. Seeing he would change. Princess Aemma was right. Daemon could change when a mirror was held in front of him.

The wedding was granted. Nearly every house in Westeros attended. But Daemon ignored them all. He had only eyes for her. His bride, his wolf. He never told her about his nickname for her. Only said it in his head or the safety of his room as he pleasured himself to the image of his wolf.

He was embarrassed by how many times he had to leave their meetings to relieve himself and his aching cock. Only a soft touch from his bride could set him ablaze with desire. He felt slightly embarrassed. Something he wouldn’t like to admit, especially not to the object of his desires and fantasies.

The ceremony was too long for Daemon’s taste. He could have gone only with the cloaking ceremony and the exchange of vows and be done with it but this wedding was also for show. His betrothed looked so otherworldly as she stood in front of him. He could only gaze into her beautiful eyes. He wished he could drown in them.

Before the High Septon was finished declaring them man and wife in front of the attending people and the gods, Daemon already sealed their lips together. It seemed like an innocent kiss, but Daemon’s hunger was laced into it. She could feel it.

At the feast she danced, laughed, drank, and ate with her new husband. They had grown closer over the last weeks. Forming a bond similar to a friendship but not quite. Sharing their love for history and myths as they sat in the library for hours.

Daemon’s eyes never left his wife’s form. He was engrossed by her completely. He never left her side and always had a hand on her body. She liked the attention from him. For once she knew he appreciated her.

The feast was slowly winding to an end. But for Daemon the night only began. He led her to their marital chambers with a firm hand, eager to get his wife alone. To see her out of her dress. Claim her body, claim her as his.

As the door closed, Daemon stood behind her, pulling her to his front. “I have waited for so long to get you alone.” Shivers ran down the young woman’s spine as his smooth voice flew in her ear. Daemon’s hands ran up from her stomach, over her rips and under her boobs.

Her breath hitched. “So responsive, zoklītsos.” Little wolf. His hand wandered further up. He cupped Her breasts softly, squeezing them a bit. She let out a soft moan. Daemon smirked. “Tell me, zoklītsos, are you ready to play with fire?” Her breath came out in shallow breaths. A whine escaped her lips.

His free hand reached for his dagger on his side. He unsheathed it, cutting open the laces of her dress in one swift motion. She gasped loudly as the dress loosened on her body and fell to the floor in a heap. Daemon’s grin widened.

Her arms tried to cover her chest as the fabrics on her body were ripped from her. But Daemon already covered them with his warm, large hands. “Don’t you dare cover yourself?” He whispered hotly into her ear. Biting the shell of her ear. “I want to see it in all its glory.” He mouthed at her neck, biting down harshly. Leaving his mark on her skin.

A small whimper escaped Her lips. Shivers ran up and down her spine. “Iksan vaoreznuni, valzȳrys.” I am sorry, husband. She whispered into his neck. Her lips ghosted over his jaw as she tried to compose herself. “Valyrīha? ao ȳdra daor jorrāelagon naejot seduce nyke dombo.” Valyrian? You don't need to seduce me anymore. He huskily whispered against her temple.

One hand slipped from her breast and trailed down between her legs. He ghosted his fingers over the patch of hair before he softly cupped her mount. “I have imagined this, she-wolf. How you looked. How you sound. All those little whimpers.” He mouthed at her jaw. “But most of the time I imagined your little cunny. All wet and tripping for me. Ready for me to plough you.”

A shuddering breath escaped her lips. “I hope I won’t disappoint you.” Daemon chuckled. “You will not. You will never disappoint, ābrazȳrys.” Wife.

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