Summary: A new young wife means the president of Panem only has one thing on his mind, an heir.
Kinks: Breeding kink, Creampie, Pregnancy kink ?
Rough.
That seemed to be the only way to properly describe Coriolanus Snow. Abrasive, sharp, deadly. The kind of man who dominates, demands every drop of sanity from his victims. Unfortunately, all of his evil is buried under a beautifully stoney face and charisma that could seduce bricks.
Your father was wealthy, a Capitol property owner that knew a thing or two about how to negotiate up in profit, living lavishly above most other Capitolites, that’s what brought Coriolanus in, if that was the shiny bronze attracting him to the surface, you were the gold layers down he struck. You were bright eyed, soft, beautiful. How could he not want you all to himself? So shapable, pliable into the perfect kiln ready doll of his own creation.
You couldn’t even hate yourself for falling as hard as you did, anyone would’ve. What started as innocent walks and lavish gifts tuned quickly into intimate dinners and promises whispered into the shell of your ear as you danced to some string quartet— his hand much too tight on your hip. Your father was eager to agree to the arrangement, your mother gushing over how the president was interested in you, your own heart lurching at the prospect of being picked. You were 18 after all, and 24 is a perfectly normal age for you to marry.
The engagment news swept bright the Capitol and tumbled down the slopes onto the districts like fire. Young aristocrat engaged to the president! Freshly 18 and already a bride? The high ranking women passed you in the street in envy, you relished in it. Slowly, Coriolanus’ attention became more constant. You were to be by his side all hours of the day, hand in his, hips flush, arms linked. Slowly, you obliged,
Even now your wedding was, as to be expected, a spectral. For months, a strange unease had been bubbling beneath your surface about your husband to be. You hadn’t seen your friends in months, your parents didn’t talk to you a whole bunch anymore, all you had was him. He loved it.
Your reception dress glittered elegantly, shining bright under the fluttering gaze of the chandelier. A mixture of absolute happiness at the idea of being the First Lady, which had not fully sunk, and the strange flight you feel when you see your husband. His arm, however was around iron clad to your figure the whole day, keeping it right where he wanted you.
Through everything you’d been prepared for in becoming his fiancee, his obsessed with having i you u with cold was one you should’ve but didn’t expect. Every baby he saw was something that could be yours, every pregnancy announcement made him even more jittery. Your body was young and ripe for him, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make sure of a future hair as fast as possible.
The only thing more powerful than a man was his lineaage.
“…You two are just so picky to have found each other, you’re perfect..” some older Capitol woman gushed about your relationship happily, looking down at the grip Coriolanus’ fingers made on the fabric of your dress. “You’ll be set for life” she beamed “I’m sure you’re just bursting at the seems.
You nod almost too stiffly, a plethora of emotions swirling around your brain, one was that definitely. But as time went on you started it not be able to breathe anymore, body on edge and skin on fire. Perhaps that was normal? Was that love? Coriolanus said it was, and you were too nervous to say anything counter “I’m just riveted.” You say elegantly, leaning into his body.
A low and happy growl bubbles from his chest, possessive, claiming.
The end of the parry comes sooner than you’re ready for, I’m a haze, you’re ushered to a private car with Coriolanus, every single citizen of the nation sending you off happily to your new life with your husband. The clapping drowned out any nerves temporarily, chilling your bones, but as people got farther away and it was just you and him? The nerves set your skin afire.
“You’re so beautiful..” he pulls you into his lap on the backseat. “My beautiful bride. You ready for what’s next? I expect obedience” he mumbles, thumb tracing your cheek in a subtle warning. He was about to take what he wanted. That’s all Coriolanus did, he took, and you were no exception.
The car ride feels much too long, your hands shaking as his penthouse enters your view. Before you can love, he picks you up and starts to strode inside impatiently. Your arms wrap around his neck and your body leans into his subconsciously. The lobby had been cleared in preparation, your souls alone in the whole building as he stepped into the elevator and clicked all the way up.
On the ride up, his lips found solace in your jaw, nibbling gently against your cheek and neck too. He was unable to control himself anymore.
Your body becomes his the moment his penthouse door opens. You feel the air shift from the stiff façade of the wedding to the primal want oozing from Coriolanus’ pores. Before you can take anything in, you’re being pushed down onto his your bed, a look you’ve never seen clouding his features. A single curl loose from his gel slick back hanging low over his cheekbone casts a shadow over his face. “You’re.. so.. fuck” he pushes up the fabric of your dress. “Up.” He suddenly stops himself.
Your eyes open, sitting up skeptically when he stands back. “Take it off, lemme see what’s under.” His greedy gaze takes in every fine detail of your body.
You oblige, as much as your senses wanted to reject him, your body was almost pulsing with a mirrored need for him. You unlace and drop the heavy corset, the skirt following impromptu. Under what was probably your 5th dress of the iight, your body was wrapped in expensive and delicate lace, gentle patterns that accentuated the curve and dip of your supple figure.
You see the visible shift in his attitude, he doesn’t hold back anymore. It almost scared you how turned on he was, launching at you full speed and folding your body in half before you can comprehend what’s going on.
“Just relax baby..” he finally murmurs “it’ll be so good, just let me in okay?” He lets his pants drop.
You can’t even see his cock, not until the tip is prodding at your sensitive hole “oh..!” You breathe in, legs soundly by your head as he pushes on your stomach.
“That’s it..” a rough finger finds your clit, starting to press on the nerve ending as your twitch. His cock pushes in, a rough, burning starch making your vision hazy. “Oh fuck.. oh yeah..” he groans, you can tell he’s trying to remain in control while also fucking you for the first time. “Oh you’re so ripe.. you’re gonna be so round with my heir”
It hurt, the sting became worse as Coriolanus got faster, your eyes flutter shut, jaw moving open and lower body jerking to compensate for the pain, the pleasure, and the size.
Beyond everything, his cock was impassive.
“Oh yes.. oh.. fuck!” He rolls your clit between his forefingers, relishing in the way your abdomen tightens and your eyes get hazy. “Gonna.. fill this womb..” he grunts out, bicep muscle straining against the bed “gonna have you..” round.. and.. stuffed!” He growls between thrusts.
All you can manage to mewl is a pathetic “Coriolanus..!l” as your first orgasm threatens your senses.
“Yeah? Gonna come? C’mon, you got it, take it baby, it’ll be the first of many..” he groans and keeps your legs open for him as much as possible.
Like a satisfying sneeze, your body lets go. Your orgasm is intense, almost shuttering. Your legs shake under the force of his penetrating cock and your bucking hips. Coriolanus moans loudly “squeezing me.. filthy bride.. so fucking dirty f’me” he huffs. “Just.. one.. fuck..!”
You feel him burry himself to the hilt, cumming as deep and hard as he can, filling up your womb as best he can. Your hand, almost asleep by how your body was contented, strokes his hair as he stays plugged into your hole.
“You can take one more, my bride..” he decides, giving you little time to adjust to his sensation.
One more turns onto about 3 more, soon cum was pooling down and you couldn’t feel your thighs anymore. Only when you were go glossy and fucked out your eyes were red, he finally let up on your body. “So fucking pretty.. my bride…” he pulls out with a wet pop, unceremoniously having a finger inside to keep you plugged “gotta make sure it takes.” He copes into your ear to nip any objections.
Your body was too limp to argue, you knew it was just the beginning. A few weeks later, a positive test would confirm that.
Hello! I would like to request a Coriolanus snow x fem!reader where the reader is pregnant and they are under attacked and she gets knocked out or passes out and Corio finds her?and in the end she and the baby(s) are fine? Or if you wanted during the rebel attack the reader gets very badly hurt and concerns the doctors a whole and he thinks he going to lose her? She wakes up.
(Sorry if it’s confusing.. it can be two separate fics or one of your choosing! :) )
Incompetent Beings | C.S.
summary: ^^^ everything mentioned above in the request
No matter what he did—even if he just breathed—everyone would still, stupefied from how commanding his presence was. With every speech and every interview, the crowd was left with awe and fear of the man. But even so, everyone knew the President had one weakness.
That weakness being you.
Everyone in Panem could see the way he softened ever so slightly when you appeared—it was like a goddess emerging from a light and he was ready to surrender. Unfortunately, that only made things worse for him when they were visiting District 12 and they decided it was the best time to rebel against the President.
You were already being led away toward the safe house in District 12 as Coriolanus had made a safe house in every District—knowing their history of violence all too well. The copious amount of peacekeepers leading you there made you an even bigger target than before.
Truly, you sometimes believed your husband wasn’t the brightest in some areas that related to you.
“Ma’am, the President requested you stay put while he handles everything outside—“
“I’m aware of that, but I also am concerned for the safety of my husband and leaving me in here with no knowledge of what is happening outside isn’t—“
“Get down!”
The ground shook as Coriolanus tried mediating the faults between the Capitol and District 12, his eyes immediately darting toward the peacekeepers who took away the leader of the rebellion. The fate of the man was already decided the second he opened his loose mouth anyway.
Coriolanus rubbed his temple as he took a seat once more and creased his brows when the door to the meeting room opened, his voice tired yet sharp as he addressed whoever entered. “What is it?”
“Mr. President, there’s been an attack by the safe house.” A peacekeeper spoke, his voice ringing clear in the air.
It took less than a beat for Coriolanus to get up from his seat and head for the door, hands curling around his suit jacket as two more peacekeepers flanked his sides. The drive to the site was less than appealing, his lead peacekeeper recalling everything he was told when he first got the call.
“The men and women who—“
“I’m not sure you understand right now.” Coriolanus cut the peacekeeper of and spoke with a calmness in his voice that sent shivers down the spines of everyone riding with him. “I don’t care how this was orchestrated. I would like to know if my wife is well and safe.”
The peacekeeper cleared his throat and met Coriolanus’ piercing eyes, his voice barely holding on as he spoke. “We’re still searching the area for her, sir.”
Silence filled the air before Coriolanus spoke.
“Are you telling me my wife is currently missing?” He raised his brows and clasped his hands together, a dangerous look in his eyes. When no one answered, he sighed and waved a hand. “Well, I guess we have to drive faster, don’t we?”
Almost immediately, the peacekeepers relayed to one another about their President’s commands, the car going well over 90 miles per hour before they came across the rebel bombing right at the outskirts of 12. There were already other peacekeepers tracking down those fallen from the attack, and another group merely searching for you.
Coriolanus knew the men and women sent out to search for you weren’t nearly looking as hard as they made it seem because he found you within a minute of hopping out of the military car.
However, it was unlucky that he found you passed out and buried under muck and rubble from the explosion.
While maintaining his dignified demeanor—or what was left of it when he ran over to you with crazed eyes—Coriolanus pushed the pieces of wood and rock away from your body, cradling you in his arms while peacekeepers rushed around the two of you like complete fools.
If Coriolanus was being truly honest, the ride to the hospital seemed like a blur. His mind was elsewhere—thinking about what he could’ve done better to prevent this, and if you weren’t too badly hurt—praying you weren’t. Coriolanus swore he would protect you and everything that came with you, especially when you were carrying the Snow heir.
The entire west wing of the hospital was cleared out for you, staff members zipping their mouths shut when they saw the President take long strides down the hall with you cradled in his arms, his tone commanding as the doctors walked beside him with clipboards and barely there expressions.
It wasn’t until hours later that Coriolanus was able to breathe again. Albeit, still shallowly given the circumstances.
He was sitting beside you, your limp hand clutched in his as he stared over your figure. You were lying in a white hospital bed, head bandaged with IVs sticking out of your arm. The doctors said you were okay, and that the baby was fine, but Coriolanus stopped listening to their judgment when they dismissed his mother and his unborn little sister back during the first rebellion.
“Mr. President, Mayor Gallowood wants to speak with you.” A peacekeeper reported, saluting Coriolanus as she stood before him.
“I’m busy.” He waved her offhandedly, eyes trained on your furrowed brows—clearly still deep in thought as you lay unconscious. “We’ll deal with the rest of District Twelve later. For now, they're on lockdown.”
“Sir—“
“Dismissed.” Coriolanus spoke with a touch of finality, pursing his lips when the door shut again. Sighing, he kissed your knuckles and brought them to his forehead. “God, how am I supposed to deal with incompetent beings without you, my love.”
He sighed and kissed your knuckles again, watching your vitals with every heartbeat that passed. To him, you were the one thing grounding him in a world of pure horror—the horror that no one else but you knew about. If you were gone, there really wasn’t a point in being a commanding President at all.
Time ticked slowly the more Coriolanus sat still by your side, only ever getting up to use the restroom that was in your private hospital room. Even so, he would listen for anything irregular coming from you. It had been three days since he last left the room to lead the country—yet everyone was still holding their breathes as if he was watching their every move.
But the only person he really was watching was you.
When you finally stirred, Coriolanus instantly shot up from his seat and clicked the button on the side of your bed, his hand still wrapped around yours as it twitched in confusion.
“Coryo?” You mutter, voice raspy from not using for so long. You tried sitting up, but were gently forced back down by him, confusion still swimming in your mind. “What are you—?”
“I thought you were never going to wake up.” He murmured and cradled your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours for the first time in days. “How are you feeling?”
“Terribly tired and sore.” You frown slightly and crease your brows, scanning his face in worry. “What happened? You look like you haven’t gotten any sleep, Coryo…”
He exhaled softly and kissed your forehead, pulling away and lacing his hand with yours when the doctors and nurses came into the room. “You did enough sleeping for the both of us, I’ll be okay as long as you are.”
You looked at him in confusion again before shifting your attention to the doctors who were asking you far too many questions for you to catch up. By the time you were able to answer with no issue—and find out what happened to you—they were already scanning your stomach for the fetus.
“Your daughter is alright, Mrs. Snow. And your vitals are excellent, so you can expect to be out of here by tonight or tomorrow morning at the latest.” One doctor flashed the sonogram of your baby to you and Coriolanus, a small smile making its way to Coriolanus’ face before schooling it.
The doctor handed Coriolanus a prescription for some cream for your bruises, saying it was to help expedite the discoloration on your skin and ease the pain you would feel once the medication wore off.
You nod and thank her, watching all the doctors and nurses walk out before the door on the room clicked shut. You looked back over to your husband with bright eyes, excitement shining in them.
“Did you hear her?”
“I did.” He helped you sit up properly this time, tucking a piece of hair behind your hair and smiling at your giddiness. He chuckled under his breath when the shine in your eyes intensified, “We’re having a baby girl.”
“We’re having a baby girl.” You repeat almost in disbelief, squeezing his hand in mild shock at the information revealed.
Coriolanus pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his blue eyes meeting yours. “And I’m glad both you and her are safe. But next time we have to come out to the District’s—especially twelve—you’re staying with me.”
“Dramatic, Coryo.” You tease and plant a kiss to his lips.
“Careful.” He corrected and smiled when you kissed his lips again. He pulled away and thumbed your cheek. His gaze turned serious after the scene of you lying unconscious appeared in his mind once more. “I’m not going to see my wife in another hospital bed again unless our daughter is coming, alright?”
You nod and tilt your head to the side, the same glint Coriolanus always wore when speaking to those lower than him reflecting in your own eyes. “And those rebels?”
Coriolanus hummed, sitting up straight and tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. “Already taken care of.”
future problems — coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader
hi everyone :) jumping on the bandwagon
this man is so fine i couldn’t help myself. i hope everyone had an amazing holiday if they celebrate — i celebrate christmas, so here is my almost 10k word christmas gift to all of you xoxo love u all v much thank you for reading !!
as always, warnings: corio-lame-o is a fucking warning holy fuck, smuuuuut, arranged marriage (i think this counts?), coriolanus is a distrustful evil fuck (but he’s super hot), fem!reader, reader is married to this dickhead (i say as if i wouldn’t want to be lmao), angst, sexism and misogyny is def in here, p in v penetration, m receiving oral, choking, dom!corio, asshole!corio, sub!reader, subspace kinda
informal warnings: bro what the fuck was i on this is literally 10.2k words and i refuse to edit because im super lazy anyway we die like men you've been warned
anyways… here is future problems:
he never wanted to get married.
he saw it as a potential problem, one that would most definitely lead to loose ends — and he hated loose ends.
despised them.
however, his innate need to maintain an image was far more important to him. he weighed the costs and benefits in his head like an algorithm — check, check, check. coriolanus’ mind left no stone unturned, especially when future problems were to be squashed before they could ever be wiped from memory. in the end… he decided he would marry.
and it would be you.
he never allowed himself to be naive — so he would never allow himself to marry someone he already loved. lucy gray? a child’s want for something they can’t have, and something they wouldn’t realize until later that it was a walking regret. no — he could never marry someone that would harm him. absolutely not. out of the question. therefore, it had to be you.
it had to be you because what harm would you cause him? you were shy, quiet, of satisfactory social standing, and uncontroversial. everything a patriarch of the snow family would want. deserved. be entitled to.
he needed someone that wouldn’t be a problem — a loose end in the future. he had conquered so much — he refused to let anything else, especially as irrelevant as a significant other, stand in his way.
however… it did not aid him in his stone-cold lack of a love affair conquest that you were absolutely breathtaking.
at first, it was just an ego boost. he simply couldn’t stop his thoughts from voicing, of course she’s perfect. the snow legacy can only have perfect.
but then… oh, then…
then he saw your smile.
oh, your smile.
your fucking smile.
the first time he caught himself enjoying it — he scolded himself. he refused to see you for a week. a punishment of sorts. more so for him than for you. after, he refused to let his eyes wander on the pretty features of your face for him to witness a reaction to something someone had said or done. he didn’t want to be reminded of what it was like to experience joy or peace because someone else was experiencing it — that was what almost costed him everything he had built.
no one would ever tear that down. not again, not ever.
no one.
when the day of your marriage came, it was business as usual. he refused to meet eye contact, and did not partake in more conversations with you than he had to. he could tell you felt uncomfortable — but he forced himself not to care. he drove it down, down, down like a miner drilling for more coal — hoping, one day, it would be worth it.
and it was… until he was sick.
it was a minor ailment — nothing major, but he was on bedrest for about a week or two. he had employed enough adequate members to his staff to feel that things would at least be taken care of until then. he also found comfort in the fact that two weeks was not long enough for something irreversible to occur. if a problem had taken placed, he would be able to rectify it once he was well and able and… set aside the responsible party.
however, he did not expect one problem.
and that would be you.
he knew you were asking to see him. he knew, he knew, he knew, but he refused to let you in. you were not disrespectful — you had only asked once a day, which happened to be every day in the afternoon. he had picked you specifically because you were too quiet to be annoying. however, his own perfect, pristine, and proper plan had stabbed him in the back. he had never considered that the perfect, pristine, and proper wife would be this dutiful to him, checking in once a day on his condition and to speak with him. despite his illness, he laughed at himself — leave it to him to not expect the expected: the hand-selected dutiful wife would, in fact, be dutiful.
he had to put an end to it. he couldn’t keep saying no for another week. how was he expected to get better if you kept bothering him?
so he let you in. this once. just this once. he reasoned that if he let you in this once, you would be less persistent. just this once — and another problem would cease to plague his mind.
just this once, he chanted in his head. just this once.
he sat up straighter, and attempted to shape his hair so it wasn’t terribly unkept. he reasoned that if you saw him appearing to be healthy, you wouldn’t feel the need to come back. he thought —
but he couldn’t finish the thought.
because you walked in.
smelling like fucking lilacs.
lilacs, of all things. lilacs! not roses, not anything else — lilacs. he did not hate lilacs, but he despised the actual flower. only beautiful for so long before it died and the stench was intolerable. an inconvenience. a nuisance. a guaranteed future problem.
however, when you gifted him with a small smile — you realized why small shows of beauty were so valuable in this world. no one else saw your smile — except for those closest to you. people he hand selected to be around you to prevent future problems. he realized then — he had more control and ownership over your smile than either of you thought.
he was so stunned by your smile he didn’t even notice the tray of tea and cakes in your hand. you took a few steps towards him and he shifted in place.
“i brought your favorites,” you spoke softly. “i know you should rest — i just wanted to ask if there was anything i could do to make your recovery easier.”
“no, thank you,” he replied, voice raspy. “i should be well in a few days.”
you nodded and offered an uneasy smile. his eyes flickered over to how once you had set down the tray on his beside, you slowly wiped the palm of your hands down the front of your dress. your eyes were cast absentmindedly in front of you, on the wall — and he could tell something was plaguing your thoughts.
he then also realized there was a book on the tray, much to his dismay.
“someone had mentioned that this was your favorite author. this was published a few days ago,” you began. “i understand that you have been experiencing headaches, and may find it difficult to read… so i wanted to offer to read aloud for you, in case you found these walls dull.”
you smiled — it was an attempt at a joke. he smiled back, but only to be polite. “today i find myself wanting to sleep. i appreciate your offer.”
you smoothed your hands over your dress once more before nodding and forcing a smile. “i’ll leave you to it, then.”
you did not bid him farewell — and he found himself wondering if he was annoyed or grateful. you simply exited the room, and let the door shut softly behind you.
he scrunched his eyes at the door, swallowing hard.
however, he didn’t understand why.
he had wanted this. the perfect wife — knowing when to take a hint and frankly, fuck off. you had done that, perfectly well — so why was he pissed?
he then found himself glaring angrily at his favorite tea cakes. the swap of sugar for honey, another one of his favorites. his favorite author, a book he was excited to read when he was better. he knew that you hadn’t asked about him — he employed people with the requirement to let him know when you were asking questions. he knew your every outward thought and concern, and sometimes even the ones that weren’t shared aloud because they were so evident on your face.
and then he realized: you noticed things like he noticed things.
however, he knew why he went out of his way to notice things, but why did you?
his jaw clenched as he glared angrily at the wall in front of him. he picked up a tea cake and chewed it aggressively, swallowing it half-intact. he coughed at the barely there food, anger rising further to his flushed cheeks.
he needed to understand how, and he most certainly needed to understand why.
he never went out of his way to get to know you, because he thought he already did. he thought he had you boiled down to one thing, and one thing only: passive. incapable of proving to be any sort of roadblock that was capable of getting in his way. now that he knew you shared something with him, what else was shared? was there something he had to look out for? was there something he missed? was he wrong about you?!
he had to know. he had to.
to do that… he called you back that evening. it was two hours before midnight, and he knew you were awake. despite having separate chambers, he knew your daily schedule. you would be reading at this moment, and he would ask you to read for him.
as if on cue, he heard a soft rapping on the wood of the door. he beckoned you in, and you entered the room. you were clad in a night dress with a matching robe over it, all pink silk. this time, he returned your smile.
"i apologize for the late hour," he spoke. "i hope you had not retired for the night."
you shook your head, your tendrils of perfect hair shaking slightly. "i was reading. i am glad you sent for me — can i get you anything?"
"i was hoping the offer to read for me was still on the table," he rasped. "i find myself unable to sleep."
you blinked once, staring at him. in an instant, a small smile was threatening to overtake your face into a large one. you cast your eyes down to a blushing manner, but his eyes narrowed slightly on your face. what would you get out of reading for him? what we he not seeing? what did he miss?
"of course," you responded. "i have not had a chance to read anything by this author. i am glad i have the chance now."
why. why. why.
he did not show his discontent. he simply rested back against the pillows as you reached for the book on his bedside table. you sat down on a chair on his side, and you crossed your legs. he eyed the small portion of the exposed, soft skin of your legs and wondered if your new ploy would be to try and seduce him. however, you quickly covered your skin with the extra material over your robe and placed the book in your lap. once opened, you read for him.
he was not listening to what you were saying, but he was listening to how you said it. the tone, the enunciation, the pauses, and the speed. he wanted to find some clue as to why you had made it a point to be at his beck and call, and he wanted to see how long the act would last until it dropped.
the act would drop. it always did.
the hour would approach midnight before he found that he could not discern anything from how you were reading aloud. his plan did not yield the results intended, as you had not broken from fulfilling his task for two hours. two hours. you had not stopped out of boredom or exhaustion, nor to talk to him. you were poised, soft, and he hated to admit it... but sweet. he found your voice sweet, and he hated it.
and he fucking hated himself for it.
he needed this to end so he could plan further. out of necessity, he yawned. if you were to apt at picking up clues, then hopefully you would believe that he was finally tired. you had succeeded in his given task, and you were free to go.
but you had kept reading for him.
he grew angry.
when you had paused to breathe, he spoke up. "I think i am able to sleep now. thank you, sweetheart, for indulging me."
your eyeline raised with your eyebrows, almost out of surprise. you either were not expecting him to ask you to stop, or you did not want to stop. he wondered which, and if that would answer his ultimate question.
"my apologies, i should've inquired sooner," you replied. "he is a very talented writer... i found myself enjoying his perspective."
you grabbed a piece or scrap paper from his bedside table, and tucked it in between the pages where you left off.
"most people would fold the corner," he remarked, eyes drifting closed — a show.
you smiled. "i didn't want to ruin the integrity of your book. goodnight, coriolanus."
she left with another smile — and all he was left with was confusion, and rage.
the next morning, he found himself wanting to call you back in for a further rouse interview. he would have if he had a plan in place.
that was the second thing about you that annoyed him: you annoyed him to the point where he wanted to act without a plan in place. a loss of control —which he was highly against.
that would have to be righted immediately.
he spent the morning reading the pages that you had already read to brief himself as if he was listening last night. he reasoned with himself that the best course of action would be to ask you to read to him again to see if you had grown comfortable enough to let a few of your true colors slip.
they always slip.
the sudden task that was presented to him gave him a new bout of energy that he needed to inch closer to recovery. it gave him the push he needed to be closer to walking out of this room and continue to run panem, and he was lost grateful to you for giving it to him — almost. at the moment, you were a problem — and that needed to be corrected. immediately.
he found comfort in control, so he was very content with routines. he had grown accustomed to bracing himself for your check-in in the afternoon. however, it did not come until the approaching hours of the evening had almost descended upon the capitol. he waited, and waited, and waited — so long that he considered asking you to come for himself. the hour would approach dinnertime when you had finally asked about his well-being, and he sent for you.
how dare you ask so late in the day, as if you didn't care? he allowed you access to his life that he had denied you for so long, and you return his kindness with carelessness? this would not do. this most certainly would not do.
you had knocked on his door, and he had to stop himself from sounding to eager. he permitted you entry, and you entered with the same soft smile.
"good evening," you greeted.
"hello," he replied, voice still raspy from his sickness.
"I wanted to ask if you need anything," you announced.
he offered a small smile. "i enjoyed our time last night. perhaps you would read for me, again?"
your eyes fell to the floor in a blush. "of course. I was hoping to read more of the book eventually. i found it intriguing."
you sat down in the chair and pulled the book in your lap. as you were opening it, he spoke, "i thought when you had not checked-in in the early afternoon you found the book dull — afraid i would ask for you to read it for me again."
you shook your head as you smiled. "i like his writing very much — i was concerned as to whether i had prevented you from sleeping the night prior, and didn't want to disturb you further."
he swallowed. "why would you have disturbed me?"
your eyes glanced upwards from the pages to rest on his face. coriolanus stared back as slight concern washed over your features, making your lips part and your eyes widen. your tongue darted out from between your lips, and smoothed over the skin of your bottom lip. you responded, "before you fell ill, we hadn't spent much time together and i understand that is because of your position — but, to be frank, i wanted to respect your space.”
your answer perplexed coriolanus. he wanted to find out what type of person you were — and your answers were not yielding the expected results. there was no obvious form of manipulation in your words, which then worried him. were you smarter than he believed you to be? were you as cunning as him? more so?
so he went with what was natural: manipulation.
“i apologize my station has not granted us the freedom to get to know each other further,” he replied, holding your gaze. “it is a regret of mine.”
you smiled in an affirmative manner, like you didn’t believe him but accepted his answer anyway. this expression arose the same feelings he now detested your presence for: he acted without calculating his actions and the outcome they would produce.
“what troubles you?” he asked.
your lips parted and slightly quivered. you were not expecting him to ask.
“i-i was worried that i may not… please you,” you admitted. “that… you may regret our union.”
“you have been a kind and dutiful wife,” coriolanus spoke, eyes holding yours. “there is no regret.”
there was that affirmative smile again. he found himself hating it — wishing it would be replaced by the warm, soft one.
“i guess i was hoping that, when i was married, the marriage would be more than… a union.”
your candor shocked coriolanus. he would never have expected you to say something… so out of turn.
“please, forgive me,” you spoke, slightly laughing and waving your hand in the air. “the hour is almost late and i was hoping to read more. do you still wish me to?”
“please,” he answered and nodded.
you gave him a quick, thankful smile, and began reading.
this would be the second night coriolanus had not listened to a word you had said.
he had gotten his answer, and it was possibly as bad as the one he was actually afraid for.
you were good. pure, innocent, and your outlook on the world untainted. you were not striving to find a loose screw and let the empire fall. you wanted… to support the man who built and kept the empire together. it was worse than anything he could’ve ever imagined — you actually cared for him.
you cared for him, and now coriolanus snow was fucking terrified.
and yet... he had asked you to return to his chambers every night after that.
for research purposes, of course. only research purposes,
to read to him, but his goal was to learn more about you rather than the text.
you would sit there and read until he asked you to stop. when he did, you would close the book, smile at him, place it back on his nightstand, and bid him goodnight.
after, he would wrestle with the blankets and pillows in order to find out how to deal with this.
how had he not expected this?
his only fault was that he neglected to realize how far your shyness would go. you had grown comfortable with him — and you admitted that you wanted something more, something he always felt he could not give. you weren’t shy — you just weren’t open with people you weren’t comfortable with.
he should’ve known. he should’ve. fucking. known.
he didn’t know how to deal with this, if he was being honest with himself.
he told himself that he asked for you every evening to get to know you better, for his own sanity and safety; but then he began to realize he had found out everything he needed to know.
good and honest. how fucking unfortunate.
he saw a part of you, but now he needed to know more.
so what did he do? he sent you flowers. flowers. an arrangement of red roses and lilacs.
he hated himself for the lilacs.
he got somewhere with you when he had made the first move before — maybe this would yield more promising results.
however, it didn’t.
all he received in return was an extra tray of food that had arrived in the afternoon. his favorite tea cakes, and a handwritten thank-you note detailed in your appreciation for the beautiful flowers. you signed your name, and that was it.
she doesn’t make first moves, he thought. she responds to them.
he knew what he had to do.
he found himself feeling better that day — well enough to end his sick leave and return to his matters. dinner was approaching, and he sent for you to join him for a private dinner this evening.
he was washed, dressed, and coiffed within the hour.
he found you in the dining parlor waiting for him, inspecting his large bookcase. you were trying to reach a book a bit above where your height would allow, extending yourself onto your toes. coriolanus walked up behind you, towering over you, and retrieved the book for you.
you glanced up at him with wide eyes. “thank you, coriolanus.”
“what intrigued you?” he asked, grinning softly.
“first one i couldn’t reach. i was working my way up.” you smiled at him, and then the book. “please — you must be hungry. let us eat.”
you sat down at the table across from him. dinner manners were rather stiff and uncomfortable, but your upbringing that was similar to coriolanus’ prevented you from straying from them. you ate in silence for a few moments before you spoke.
“how do you like his new book?” you asked.
coriolanus cleared his throat. “i find it riveting. i wouldn’t have been able to read it for some time if it hadn’t been for you.”
you smiled at your plate, blushing. “his points are very interesting. i was never very interested in politics — so the insight of someone so heavily involved with them is very informative. do you find that your opinions align with his? or does he not share your perspective?”
he appreciated your willingness to engage with him about topics you weren’t very fond of. an underrated trait, not found very often — he had to admit.
“a bit of both,” he responded. “the one thing he does not discuss is how important it is to have a certain type of person or persons in your regime that allows the flow of success to continue.”
you nodded. “you have built a strong administration — i’m sure he would admire what you have to say.”
“what do you believe?” he asked. “about partnerships?”
you swallowed, contemplating your answer. “i think… a successful partnership is where everyone is complimented by another. for instance, someone is better at briefing documents rather than the presentation of them, and another is the opposite.”
“which one are you?” coriolanus inquired.
you paused once more, folding your lip under. he realized that was a sign you were uncomfortable — unaware of how to proceed. after a moment, you answered, “i feel the most confident under a strong leader. i prefer to be behind the scenes. minute details are easier to be taken care of that way. while you and i are different, i respect you for being the strong leader panem needed. i am sure the majority would agree with me.”
now was the time.
“it is easy to be strong when one’s wife makes sure they are well,” he replied, eyes resting on your face. “i hope you know i appreciate your willingness to accept change and make sure needs are met.”
you smiled at him once more, then turned back to your food.
damn, he thought. didnt bite.
“and for being the companion i… didn’t think i would come to enjoy the company of,” he added.
you glanced up at him then, astonishment written in your eyes as plain as the words on the paper you read for him every night. “may i ask you… a question?”
he nodded.
“did you believe you wouldn’t enjoy my company before, or after you had first met me?”
“i don’t understand.”
you swallowed, clearing your throat. “were you… wary of the idea of marriage, or wary of me?”
your gaze did not break from his. you were braver than he thought.
“marriage,” he answered honestly, hoping to witness your reaction.
there was the affirmative smile — the one he hated. “thank you for — for being honest.”
your eyes didn’t wait for a response. you turned back to your food, and left him dumbstruck.
“i hope i have not displeased you,” he stated.
“no, coriolanus,” you spoke. “if i am being honest… i was wary i would not be suitable for you. if i have not displeased you, then i am well.”
“but you stated you wanted more,” he countered, tone even.
“i hoped we would… spend time together,” you answered. “and we have.”
it was coriolanus’ turn to be at a loss for words. what would this admission relay? it only solidified what he was afraid of — you wanted a marriage filled of love, and he was not prepared for that. ever.
“the flowers were beautiful,” you spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “thank you for sending them.”
“your lilac perfume is a wonderful addition to the capitol,” he spoke, unsure where this had come from. “i wanted you to know that.”
you weren't supposed to say that you weren't supposed to tell the truth you weren't supposed
you smiled at him appreciatively, that accompanied a slight twinkle in your eye. you were quick to return to eating, but coriolanus couldn’t stop staring at your face. he realized then that was his new favorite smile.
there was a moment, a small moment, where he wondered whether it would be such a crime if he did allow himself to enjoy your company more than he had. in that moment, he couldn’t think of how it would go wrong. for that moment, you were a simple, low-maintenance, beautiful woman on the other side of the table with him that just liked spending time with him — and he enjoyed that you weren’t a problem. would it so bad if he entertained the idea?
he immediately cut himself off. of course it was a bad idea.
once dinner has finished, he had requested to walk you back your chambers. if time spent together was what kept you at bay, he could manage that. he most certainly could.
when the pair of you had approached the door, you stopped for a moment and paused reaching for the handle. you spoke, “would you… like to come in?”
“not tonight,” he rasped. he gave you a polite smile. “another time.”
he watched as you blinked your eyes a few times and your lips quivered. you didn’t meet his gaze, for it fell — in what appeared to be embarrassment.
oh.
you invited him in to… to…
that he had not expected.
before you had the chance to leave, he swooped down and grabbed your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he pressed his lips to yours ever so softly, holding it there. the moment your breath caught in your throat, there was a strange feeling inside his chest that made him feel like he’d like to quell your worries by catching you off guard another time. and another. and another. and another. he couldn’t have you feeling rejected, no — not when he didn’t want to reject you. he needed heirs, sure — but they could wait. he would contemplate how long later.
once he pulled back, you smiled. inside you were bursting, and you wanted to hurry behind a closed door so he could not see your reaction. he continued to hold your chin and gaze at your face. feeling brave, you looked him in the eye as you bid him goodnight and went into your room.
you left him standing outside your door, facing its wood paneling.
what was he to do?
he wanted to keep you as emotionally far away as possible to avoid anything like this occurring. he was prepared for people who had an ulterior motive… not a young woman who only wanted to be good to her husband.
the worst part was… not every part of him wanted him to keep you away.
would it be so bad, if he had actually courted you?
you were not anyone from his past, no. you were not irresponsible and impulsive, and you could be trusted to remain within a designated role and space. you were rarely outspoken — you never strayed from your cue cards, nor did you get smart in private. you never spoke out of turn, which coriolanus always knew — this was just the first time he was more turned on than he was just grateful.
he reasoned a reward was in order.
he found his knuckles wrapping on the door before he could stop himself.
the small movements inside your apartments stalled for a moment, pulled taut like a string in an instrument. he could picture you — standing still and silent, waiting for an explanation.
then he heard footsteps approaching the door before the door handle turned. when you opened the door, the first thing he saw was your eyes.
those big, beautiful eyes that looked at him with surprise — and the slightest bit of hope. coriolanus would most likely try to convince himself that he stayed completely still to exercise a form of control over you — but deep down, he would never be able to believe that completely.
however… when you reached out with your soft, delicate hand, and pulled at his own — it didn’t matter why he did it, because he won.
he shut the door behind him, keeping your gaze.
“i would be coy and ask if we could spend time together in a... different way than usual…” you began, sighing. “but up until this moment i was convinced we would never…”
coriolanus was in no mood to quell insecurities and anxieties. he understood that words could not compare to actions, and so he would do just that.
coriolanus stepped forward, and pressed his large hands against the sides of your face. for a split moment — you almost looked terrified. he usually relished in that look from others, but with you it only made him concerned — angry, even.
“i don’t know what it is about you.” his voice was shaky. it was the first moment in your entire marriage that coriolanus had shown even a shred of weakness. “you smile, you obey, you take my transgressions like they’re fucking sweets. why?! tell me!”
your big, round eyes were blown wide as your brow was knitted together. your lips were parted in an innocent manner, and it only fueled his anger. one of your hands came up to gently lay across the back of his. “coriolanus — have you ever considered that i just wanted to get to know you?”
his eyes searched yours like they were an important document and he couldn’t believe what bullshit he was reading. his lips pursed in a manner that suggested a sour taste, and you felt your joy slipping, slipping, and slipping.
“coriolanus — if you want to go, then go.” your voice was breaking. you knew he was a cool, hard man — but this? this? it was almost too much. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t —“
he couldn’t take your nonsense anymore. he shut you up with a kiss.
he smashed your lips together like it was the first thing he should’ve done when he walked back into the room. a squeal died in your throat at the contact, but coriolanus held you there and upright. both of your hands found the firmness of his chest for balance. when he pulled away — he barely did. he kept his lips an inch away from yours as little tuffs of air pushed past. he leaned his forehead against yours, almost bonding the two of you.
“my greatest displeasure will be making you regret this,” he rasped, eyes screwed shut.
your breathing began to hasten as you contemplated your next words. you began to stroke coriolanus’ hands with your thumbs, hoping to coax him. “you say that like it’s inevitable.”
“it is not far from,” he choked through anger and sadness.
you couldn’t help but stare back at him as he almost glared at you — but then you realized that wasn’t the case. he wasn’t glaring at you — he was glaring through you. whatever traumatized him, whatever made him so distrustful of the world around him and the people in it… you realized then that you represented all of that to him. you had to be different. you had to show him that you were different than all of that.
“i’ve trusted you,” you whispered, almost pleading. “i would like for you to try and trust me. please, coriolanus… i’ve never asked you for anything — just this once —“
coriolanus shook his head, dismissing you. “it’s corio.”
he slammed his lips to yours. his kiss was that of a fight; burning with every cut of anger, frustration, desperation, and sadness in his soul. you weren’t sure if he accounted for your inexperience, but you let him lead as you swallowed all of his suffering. you knew you may never be everything you wanted to be for him — but for this moment, or for whatever he would allow — you could be his escape, and he could be yours.
just this once, you both thought. just this once.
his hands were on both sides of your face, caging you in as you were at the mercy of his bittersweet affection. you tried to keep up with him, almost afraid that you wouldn’t be enough for him — but corio didn’t care. he couldn’t have cared less as he backed you into the foot of the bed. he didn’t stop kissing you as the back of your legs hit your soft mattress, and you were forced to sit down.
with his tongue tangling with yours, you managed to lift your hands to the top buttons of his shirt. he batted your hands away and went to work on his own buttons. you reached behind for your zipper to your dress and attempted to undue it.
corio then pushed your hands away with that too — ripping the zipper down its track and pushing the sleeves down your shoulders.
“corio —“ you gasped through the kiss, struggling to keep up with him.
he pulled away for a short moment, staring into your eyes. “i have denied myself being with you for so long — nothing is stopping me now.”
he held the glare, and you could only stare back at him in fright. however, that was when you realized that he had felt the same way, or at least similar — you both wanted each other, and had been scared to approach the other. your heart filled with warmth, threatening to explode, but all you could do was nod.
he seemed to calm down then, glancing down towards your lips where he prodded your bottom lip with the tip of his numb. “i have wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss my perfect wife — and now that i know, i don’t think i’ll ever give it up.”
you smiled at that. “can i tell you what i have been wondering?”
his eyes met yours once more, almost a warning. you didn’t falter, though. he replied, “yes?”
“i’ve wondered what it would be like to please you,” you spoke softly, a pink hue rising to your cheeks.
his flat look broke then, softening. a smirk greeted his features and you could see his confidence in himself rise. “my lovely wife wants to please me?”
“yes,” you spoke, holding your breath. “if you’ll let me.”
bright and striking, flames of mischief came to light in his irises. emotions of excitement and fear rose within you, and you weren’t sure which was stronger. all you could do was watch as your strong, powerful, larger than life husband stood over you, chin raised, looking down his nose at you, as he unbuckled his belt. his pants and briefs, once around his ankles, were discarded — but you didn’t see that. you couldn’t look away from his eyes — holding you, and your gaze, in place.
it was like you were an enemy he was testing. you didn’t know what he expected, let alone what would make him happy — but you hoped his expectations were slightly lower in light of your inexperience. you swallowed the hard rock of nervousness in your throat, stood up, and gestured for him to sit down on the edge of the bed. he raised an eyebrow at you, but complied. you sat down on your knees in between his, and waited patiently for direction.
“can you…” you began. “can you teach me?”
he smirked once more. “take me in your hand.”
you bent your head lower, and grabbed him by the base. he was hard and warm in your hand as you saw him trying to fight the twitching feeling in his limbs. his muscles were tight, afraid to show weakness. you grew uncomfortable — you didn’t want him weak, but you did want him to feel comfortable enough with you to enjoy a fucking blowjob.
holding his muscle upright, you stuck your tongue out and licked around the tip of his cock. he was salty, but smelled so masculine after a long day. his scent infiltrated all of your senses and had captured your attention. it made you hungry, greedy — so much so that you closed your lips around his cock and began to suck.
he jumped then. “teeth,” he spat.
you paled in embarrassment and fright — but didn’t allow your fear to show for long. you adjusted your tongue and lips — so that your top lip was folded under your top set, and your outstretched tongue covered your bottom set. hollowing out your cheeks, you took him into your mouth once more.
a low hum filled his chest.
you couldn’t see him, and could barely hear him — corio was being a selfish lover and not letting you know whether or not he was enjoying himself. he told you once before you were doing something wrong, so you tried to trust that he would tell you.
that was easier said than done, frankly. with your free hand, you reached up and began to massage his sack in the soft skin of your palm. the hum in his chest turned deeper and louder, and you felt his hips twitch once.
maybe it shouldn't have mattered that he wasn't vocal — but it wasn't like he was shy. you would not fault him for not doing something he didn't want to do, but it was like he was denying you that. if you were making him feel good, and he was fighting the volume of his moans — how fucking dare he deny you of that! there you were, constantly at his beck and call, and he couldn't even freely moan with you? you were obedient, quiet, grateful, everything he wanted — but this? this? too much. absolutely too much of an ask.
you had to do something.
"mr. president," you cooed, twisting your soft tongue around the tip of his cock. "you're awfully quiet above me."
he let out a laugh as he struggled to keep his composure. one of hands found the back of your head as his fingers struggled to tangle themselves in between your strands. they were tugging and pulling, but there was no strength in his grip. his grip — wouldn't catch. couldn't catch. corio, you husband — struggled day in and day out to keep the control in the capital and inside his castle. there was a part of you that believed he just needed to let go, let someone else be in control — but you were his pretty little wife after all. you had until death to try everything. losing control could wait, because tonight... tonight was about making corio the grateful one for once.
you let your loose grip run circles up and down the length of his cock. his shaft was wet and thick, begging the attention of the light from above so the skin was able to glisten. the tip of his cock, red and angry, almost neglected — never had you seen something so delicious, nor deserving of affection. your lips, swollen, wrapped themselves around the tip of his cock as you sucked. notes of salt and sweat mixed together on your tongue, and you hummed at the taste.
"taste sweet, mrs. snow?" you heard from above you. your eyes glanced up to find corio's eyes glazed over with pleasure. his eyelids were drooping over, and all you could think about how badly you wanted to make him close his eyes in bliss. your eyes watched his eyes, but his eyes watched the way your mouth sucked him in. "being so good for me. let your husband see what else you can do."
your ears perked in interest. you didn't know what he meant, but you were intrigued to see if he would teach you.
"please... show me what you like," you spoke, extending your neck as he lowered his face to yours.
"so eager to please..." he spoke, staring down at you in awe. his hand slid down for your scalp to cup your cheek. he looked into your eyes like he was studying you — searching for something surface level. a flaw, or something good... you weren't sure. "i suppose some would say i'm lucky."
you didn't like the sound of that... but you didn't let it show. you gave him a hint of a smile. "i don't think it matters what anyone else thinks. i think what matters is you telling me what you like... so you can decide if you're lucky or not."
he chuckled at that, but his laugh was reserved. always holding back, your husband. "you really want to be a good little wife for me... don't you?"
you fell into the strength behind the hand on your face and keened into his touch. his hand was warm against your skin. "please, corio... please let me."
he stood then, and your gaze raised with his body. you gazed up at him as he stared down at you. there his eyes went again — searching yours. he stood closer to you then, bending down slightly. "it would please me if, at any point, you told me to stop because of the pain. i don't want to hurt you." his voice was low and soft then, immediately striking you. "can i trust you to do that? hmm?"
"i'll tell you," you replied, nodding your head. "i promise."
"never break a promise you make to me," he warned.
you nodded your head once more, unsure how to proceed. he led you over to the side of the bed where he gestured for your to lie down. with the passing of time, you became more and more aware of how bare you both were in front of each other. you were ready to let down every fence of insecurity for the man before you... but there were still walls of his that threatened to come down. he was hot and cold every other moment, it seemed... and you weren’t even sure where to begin.
“husband,” you spoke, unsteadily, as he found his place between his legs. “you seem so… distrustful of me. what can i do? please, corio, i just want this moment to be special for us — for you.”
there his eyes went — searching yours again. it was like he was rereading a page in a book over and over, hoping to find the hidden message in the black and white scripture. his eyes, going back and forth, appeared to be looking over unclear smudges and scribbles as his lips began to purse. you almost said something — stopped him from withdrawing into himself, but he moved before you could.
he sat back against the pillows, which faced a mirror across your bed. you rose curiously, hoping that he would finally give you some direction. he simply took your hand in his, and gestured for you to come closer. “come,” he spoke.
in his lap, maybe? you thought curiously. you went to throw your leg over his, before he stopped you. with a furrowed brow, you watched as he adjusted you so your back laid against his chest.
“do as i say,” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers up and down your spine.
your eyes were cast to the side, his outline in your peripheral vision. you nodded, letting your lips fall apart. you felt one of his hands on the soft skin of your thigh, grazing upwards towards your hips. you almost let your eyes fall closed, hoping to lose yourself in the sensations, before corio stopped you.
with that same hand, he reached upwards and grasped your chin between his fingers. your eyes shot open as he moved your head to now face the mirror, and the pair of you in it.
shallow breaths were pushing past your lips as you stared into the mirror. your cheeks were flushed, your hair in a slight disarray, and your lips were swollen. with a flutter of your eyelashes, your gaze flickered towards corio’s reflection. your husband was always perfect — so even the slight persuasion from tidiness was a remarkable sight to you. his eyes were focused — unable to remain cool, calm, and collected as usual.
his eyes, you thought. his eyes will always tell me.
“you will watch,” corio spoke suddenly, voice hard. “you will keep your eyes on my hands. you stray, and i leave. understand?”
you nodded, looking into his eyes through the mirror.
he cocked an eyebrow.
“yes,” you spoke, almost breathless. “i understand.”
corio’s hand then found its way to your center. the tips of his finger tips, soft and hot, lightly drew a line up and down your slit. your eyes wouldn’t leave the mirror — focused on his fingertips. it was like your skin knew every correct button to tap, tap, tap. every part of you was so sensitive, so keen to his touch that you were embarrassed. you felt so pathetic against his chest, bent to his will — but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. the voice in your head was whining and hoping you would give in, just give in, let down your guard, give in, forget manners. you wanted to keep your composure as long as possible, but when corio’s middle finger found your clit…
oh… you were done for.
one of your hands immediately snapped up to find corio’s bicep and clutch onto whatever foundation he could give. you didn’t dare let your eyes meet his, even in the mirror — what if he stopped? what, huh? what then? when you were the closest you had been ever? you couldn’t allow yourself to be greedy, not when he was being oh, so selfless.
the circles he was drawing taunted your ability remain calm. he rolled your tiny clit underneath the weight of the tip of his finger and pressed down with every circle. it pushed, and pulled, and fucking pried at every fiber of your being. you could only force yourself up and back against corio, whining like a pathetic mess.
“running away from me, my sweet?” he whispered in your ear. “when i’m being so kind?”
his words bit at your ear, reminding you of your position in his world. your eyes were threatening to drift closed, hoping, praying, that corio would let you slip this once from your responsibilities. naive, you were, to believe that.
“remember our deal, wife,” he darkly cooed in your ear. “one request was all i had. i refuse to be denied it.”
“i know, i know…” you whined, rolling your hips with his hand. “it just feels so good, corio… i’ve never… no one’s ever…”
“i can tell you never knew how bad your body would crave it,” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe. “even your pussy obeys me, drenching my fingers. too sweet for this world, aren’t you?”
“just wanna be sweet for you, corio,” you whined as your vision began to blur.
the approaching orgasm was anything but a warm and fuzzy feeling around you. it was hot and jagged — making your muscles jerk, yet force your hips to roll into every movement of corio’s. the cloud over your brain felt like a warm haze of the finest whisky or tobacco the capital could offer. you were numb, drunk, and unable to process the world around you unless it was corio. his touch, his taste, his scent, his look, his orders… everything was setting you off and keeping you in place all at once. your body was hot to the touch, feverish as it tried to fight your sophistication and just fucking —
“that’s it, sweetheart. so focused on the mirror you can’t even find the strength to let go for me,” he spat, pressing a kiss to your cheek and breathing in your scent. “ride my hand like the good girl you are. you wanted to show me, remember?”
tears were brimming your eyes and blurring your vision. your teeth were gritted and bared for him. one of his hands came up to loosely grasp your throat as your hips began to spasm. it was so much, too much, so much —
“corio, please —“ you cried. “please let me look away. i can’t — i have to cry, i can’t —“
there was no softness in his movements against your aching clit. corio had now employed two fingers to dip into your core, collect your slick, and rub it along your sensitive bud in harsh circles. it sent your mind through a suffocating tube and gasping for air. you were begging, pleading — unsure what would happen if you were denied the ability to finish in peace. you began to cry in frustration and fear, so sensitive to the touch and his approval.
“corio…” you whimpered. “please, please let me…”
“do it,” he spat, holding your throat and kissing your face. “show your husband how fucking messy you can be for him.”
you grasped onto him and threw yourself back.
it was like a rollercoaster. twists and turns, yanking your body every which way. corio’s body rocked with yours as the sensations climbed and fit into every single one of your limbs. your lungs, burning, were screaming for air as you tried to fight for consciousness. the world was white, milky, foggy — unable to navigate, let alone exist in. all you could feel was corio’s body moving with yours and coaxing you through the most insane moment of your entire life.
tears fell down your face, and you struggled to conceal it. corio refused to let you hide from him. he bent his face low to yours and pressed the side of his face against the side of yours.
his breaths were heavy, similar to yours.
“corio…” you whimpered, almost whining.
“i know, sweetheart,” he cooed. “so good for me, weren’t you? asking so obediently and politely.”
you nodded, pressing your forehead against his. “i’m sorry that i was —“
“what’re you sorry for?” he demanded.
you clenched your jaw. “i was — i am — i’m worried i was too much — i was so — out of control —“
he shut you up with a kiss. coriolanus snow refused to allow you to continue, or else he knew he would be offended if he had let you finished.
“i wanted that,” he stated. “every bit of that. what, you don’t find it agonizing to be prim and fucking proper every day?”
you laughed uneasily, a bit spooked by his outburst of aggression. “i thought you — i thought that was what you wanted from me.”
he shook his head. “out there — it’s necessary. in here, when it’s only the two of us? don’t ever hide yourself from me. you must promise.”
you swallowed as your haze began to disappear. “only if you promise the same."
you saw his jaw pulse from the corner of your eye. “i promise.”
“i promise,” you returned.
you quickly reconnected your lips. you couldn't let the moment slip away. you needed to seize him while he was there — trusting you for the first time in your entire relationship. you found both of your hands on the side of his face and held him to you. corio fought for control, but you gave in immediately. the need for him to need you was stronger and more satisfying that anything else you could've experienced in that moment. you turned around, straddling his lap and pushing him down to the bed.
everything you were doing was improper: grabbing your husband, forcibly kissing him, sitting in his lap, pushing him down... you almost stopped. you almost gave into the insecurity and made friends with with meekness and shyness once more. however, you made a promise — and you intended to keep it.
"i want you inside me, corio," you whispered against his lips. "please, i want to feel you —"
"again, sweetheart?" he ripped himself from your lips to grunt out his teasing. "one taste, and you're addicted?"
you hummed approval against his lips, tangling your tongue with his. with one hand on the back of your head, holding your face to his, corio's other hand fished between the pair of you and grasped his leaking cock in his hand. the tip was red and swollen, aching for some stimulation or attention. he spread his precum over his tip and with a firm hand, corio slid his cock inside of you.
you arched your back away from corio. the feeling of him being fully sheathed inside of you bent your attention in every which was. both of your hands cradled the back of his head into your chest, where he found himself nestled between your breasts. his breaths were hot and heavy, moist against your skin. his swollen lips found one of your perky nipples and sucked it into his mouth, caving to his primal urges. coriolanus snow wanted every part of you for himself, and needed to place that claim on every part of your body. he wanted your thighs to shake and ache from being locked around him, your fingers to tremble from your hard grip, and he wanted your lips to be bruised from how hard he made you bite them. and, most of all, he wanted every loud moan to rip itself from your aching throat and fill the perfectly painted walls of this damned room.
he cursed you when you threw a hand over your mouth, and he immediately ripped it away. "don't you fucking dare," he spat.
you ignored him. he was your husband, and he was the scariest man you would ever meet, and yet you ignored him. most of all, your hips ignored him. they began to roll against his own the best they could for their inexperience. up, down, and grinding down was the best they could manage before corio grabbed you by the flesh of your hips and moved you to his liking. and when your mouth parted and a loud cry made your throat shake when he twisted your hips forward, he knew he found the spot.
"do not ever deny me what i am owed," he spat, fucking into that spot that wrapped a tight band around your abdomen. "i want to hear how good i am making you feel, and i will. i get to hear. those are mine. i am owed those."
again, you ignored him. what did he expect when your eyes began to roll back into your head and you began to match his pace? you were close, you were so, so close...
that was when corio grabbed you by the chin, refusing to let up his pace. his eyes were full of darkness, yet focus. like he had found his prey. you tried to focus, tried to give him the respect the deserved... but you couldn't. your mind was swimming, and your arching cunt was dripping down his length and onto the skin of his pelvis. you were lost. so fucking lost.
"yours, corio!" you whined. "all yours. only yours."
his voice was gruff against your lips as his thrust became rougher. "say it again."
your eyes began to drift closed as you leaned your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips against his. his cock had found its way to the most sensitive and purest part of you and ripped down every wall you had. you sobbed, "yours, corio. only yours."
corio threw you off of him and your back hit the bed. he was on top of you in an instant. he threw your legs up and pressed them against your chest. with your ankles on his shoulders, he pushed himself inside of you and began to relentlessly punish your perfect fucking pussy.
"mine, you got that?" he spat against your ear. "i have watched you, day after day, put on this fucking act! perfect and proper — but i made a proper whore out of the most desirable woman in the capital, didn't i? and now she's mine — forever warming my bed."
"forever, corio," you whined. your sobs were music to his ears, going straight to his cock. your cunt was raw from the friction and slick, unsure if corio should stop or keep going — but you didn't let him guess. "inside me, corio, please... want it to bad. been so good for you..."
his hand was around your throat and demanding your attention. "as if i'd waste a drop when every man in the capital would be able to see you round with my child. you want that wife? my seed, my child? you want to be fully claimed by me?"
"yes," you cried, tears falling down your cheeks. "give it to me, husband, please —"
corio reached down in between your hips and rubbed your clit with whatever energy he had left. his thrust were growing sloppy, but his movements against your swollen bud were worse. he was hissing in your ear as he continued the assault against you. your moans were loud as they escaped your lips and filled the room, setting corio's skin on fire. sweat dripped down from his brow and down his neck to mingle with yours as your second orgasm of the evening began to approach. it snapped the rubber band in your lower belly and you immediately sobbed into corio's neck. his hips continued to rut in you, forcing you down onto the bed as he swallowed all of your sobs for himself. your nails dug into his back and down his spine, hoping to rip parts from him that he had taken from you.
when corio came, you were in a stupor. cock drunk with your mouth hanging open, dazed. when corio came, one of his hands grabbed your messy pile of hair, wrenching at the roots. he pulled you to the side to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as he pumped your cunt full of his cum. your walls were hot and sticky, full of him, but it only caused the most sickeningly warm feeling to spread throughout you. every primal need of yours was satisfied, and corio could see every bit of it on your face. the pride that welled within your husband... shameful. no man should be in possession of such an ego boost like making the prettiest, more desired woman in all of panem break from all bounds of social etiquette. you were warm, and wet, and craving every bit of his touch, so he couldn't deny you... not anymore. not when he felt the same. with each sob that left your mouth, he felt a kick in the pit of his stomach as his balls throbbed. never in his life had a woman ripped from him what he had taken from her, cheeks hot and muscles worn out.
he would regret it in the morning, maybe, but not now. no — not now.
"husband, forgive me, but..." you spoke. "my mind is a mess. i don't think i can read to you this evening."
corio rolled his eyes and laughed. "that good?"
you pressed a kiss to his lips as you hummed in approval. "never wait that long to bed your wife again."
he chuckled darkly. "watch it, sweetheart."
---
love u guys sm sorry it was so long ty for reading love u love u love u
If your husband was one thing, he was endearing. Yes, you were talking about the same Coriolanus Snow who nearly managed to freeze others with the icy impression he left.
"How did an angel like you land in my arms?", Coriolanus murmured softly against your skin. He kissed you while holding you bridal style, the hand that wasn't supporting your back were holding your heels. This was far more entertaining than the gala the two of you were previously at.
"Did you have fun?", you manage to ask between the many kisses he had left on your face.
"Fun? Darling you can't be serious, it was a bore". His hands held you perfectly, like his fingers were molded just for this. "I'm just glad it's over".
You giggle as he sits you down onto your shared bed. "I thought you were tired?"
"Never too tired for my darling". Coriolanus leaves a soft kiss on your lips.
"Look at you.. you look beautiful", you tease noticing the stain your red lipstick left on his lips as a result of kissing.
He smiles at your playfulness, "You looked radiant tonight, like a princess. My princess".
"You treat me like a princess…", you mutter softly as he helps you unzip your dress. Your heart flutters as he left yet another kiss.
"You seem tired my love, did the gala bore you that much?", the playful tone made its way back to his voice.
You smiled, ignoring his antics and slipping into your nightgown. "The heels I wore were perfect weren't they? They complimented my dress perfectly".
"They left blisters all over your feet dear".
"But they were beautiful!"
"Everything looks beautiful on you my love". He was about to excuse himself to his study to go finish up some paperwork when your head made its way to rest on his shoulder. Yes, Coriolanus did dislike galas, but he was fond of how they ended with you in his arms.
Request: Hello I would like to request a Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader! I see that you also do starwars and it had me thinking. How would Coriolanus do if either your his tribute or a mentor or his wife? and a little kid came up to the reader and asked her if she was an Angel?
Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: classism, mentions of malnutrition/malnourishment, Coryo’s manipulation, slight diversion from canon for fic sake
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The Capitol Zoo was unusually quiet that morning, as if the city itself was holding its breath in anticipation of the Games. The sky above was pale and washed-out, making the enclosures seem more like cages.
You walked slowly beside Coriolanus, your fingers brushing together before he finally gave in and laced his with yours. It was one of the few soft things about him—this quiet affection when no one was watching.
Well, when he thought no one was watching, at least.
His eyes were locked on the girl in the District 12 enclosure, her bright dress muted by the grim bars and stale air. Lucy Gray stood with her chin tilted high, a performer through and through, even in captivity.
You both watched her for a few moments—Coryo calculating, curious, captivated. You, quieter, unsure how to feel about the girl who smiled like she knew secrets.
“She’s different,” you murmured, your eyes trialing her up and down.
“She’s dangerous,” he replied. But there was something like admiration in his voice. Though you weren’t threatened by it.
After all, she was the one behind the bars; you weren’t.
You nodded once, then gently tugged his hand. “Come on. I want to see mine.”
Your tribute was a girl of only twelve, a slip of a thing with tangled hair and limbs too thin for her frame. She was tucked in a corner of the enclosure, knees pulled to her chest like she was trying to disappear.
You reached into the elegant satchel slung over your shoulder, the one your mother insisted matched your family’s station.
“A Tolston never leaves the house looking anything less than exceptional.” Was what your mother had always said to you.
The Tolstons were old money. Old, influential, and perpetually seated at the Capitol’s highest tables, with your father’s name on every infrastructure committee and your mother curating the Capitol’s most exclusive fashion exhibits.
You weren’t supposed to cry about the Games. You weren’t supposed to feel things for tributes. But it was different now that you were in charge of taking care of one, to try and help your tribute to win.
So here you were, with wrapped honeyed bread, pear slices and soft cheese tucked between embroidered linen napkins. A large fancy ‘T’ stitched into it.
“Hi,” you said gently. “This is for you.”
She blinked up at you, wide-eyed, hesitant. Then slowly, carefully, she stood and crept over, taking the bundle like it might vanish if she moved too quickly. Her fingers brushed yours, feather-light, and you smiled.
She stared at the food, then at you. And then she said, in a small, wonder-filled voice
The little girl stood on the other side of the bars, hay in her hair while she stood in the dirt. The food you had passed was clutched tight in her small hands like she was afraid someone would take it back.
“Are you an angel?” she asked, voice breathy, eyes too big for her thin face.
You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
She nodded seriously, stepping a little closer. “An angel. My mama used to talk about them all the time. She said they were the most beautiful creatures in the world. That they come when you’re really scared. When you’re about to give up.”
Your heart twisted. “Oh, sweetheart…” you crouched lower so you were more at her level. “No. I’m not an angel. I’m just…” You hesitated, glancing at the food in her hands. “I’m someone who thinks you shouldn’t be hungry. Just someone who is looking after you,”
She frowned thoughtfully, tilting her head like a curious bird. “You look like one. Your voice is soft. Like my mama’s was.”
Behind you, the soft buzz of a camera lens adjusted, zooming in. You could feel the eyes of the Capitol watching—Lucky Flickerman’s commentary somewhere off to the side, smooth as ever.
“Your name is Lina, right?” you asked gently.
“Lina,” she said with a nod, “Lina Grove,”
“Lina Grove,” you repeated, giving her a small smile. “That’s a beautiful name. Mine’s—”
“I know,” she interrupted, suddenly shy. “They said your name on the screen when we got here. You’re the pretty girl that walks with the white-haired boy.”
You choked on a surprised laugh. “The white-haired boy?”
Coriolanus, who’d remained behind you but close, let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a scoff. His fingers tightened around yours—possessive, protective. “Charming,” he muttered under his breath.
Lina giggled.
“You’re funny,” she said to you. “And you smell nice. Not like the rest of this place.”
You leaned in conspiratorially. “That’s because I carry soap in my bag. Want me to sneak you some tomorrow?”
Her eyes lit up like you’d promised her a crown or the most sparkly jewels on earth.
“Really?” she whispered. “Even just to smell it?”
“Promise.”
She hugged the food to her chest like it was a lifeline. “Do angels make promises?”
You hesitated, just for a second. “Only the good ones, I suppose,”
Lucky’s voice rang out from somewhere behind the camera. “And there you have it, folks—our mentors are shining this year! Capitol hearts everywhere are absolutely melting.”
You stood slowly, wiping your hands on your skirt. Lina backed up a step but kept her eyes on you, like she wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.
“Will you come back tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.
You gave her a nod. “Every day until the Games.”
She bit her lip. “Even after?”
Something in your chest fractured. And unfamiliar ache.
“I’ll try,” you whispered. “I’ll do everything I can, I promise,”
Coriolanus stepped closer, slipping his arm around your waist, his voice low beside your ear. “You’re going to make it very hard for them to forget her.”
You didn’t answer. Just watched as Lina sat back down with her food next to her district partner; an older boy maybe around 16. And, for the first time, looked like a child again.
And for a split moment you felt guilt.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The gravel path shimmered faintly beneath your shoes as you and Coriolanus walked away from the enclosure. The buzz of cameras had finally died down, Lucky Flickerman’s voice trailing off into some other scripted sentiment.
The air felt heavier now, quieter. As if your lungs were remembering how to breathe again the further you got away from it all.
You glanced back once—just once—toward where Lina now slept in one part of the zoo’s enclosure.
“She’s so little,” you said, more to yourself than him. “Twelve. She still has baby teeth, Coryo.”
His hand tightened on yours. Just a bit. Just enough. Though you didn’t see it, there was a small shift in the boy you loved so much.
“She’s a tribute,” he said, like it was supposed to explain everything. So simple. How could it be that simple?
“I know,” you murmured. “It’s just—” You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. “She called me an angel.”
“She’s scared. They all are.” His voice was soft but sure, like velvet hiding steel. “And you gave her exactly what she needed in that moment. Comfort. That’s not a bad thing, my love,”
You nodded slowly, but something still stirred beneath your ribs. Not outrage—nothing so dramatic. Just a quiet ache. A tug of something soft and uncertain.
He stopped walking, gently pulling you to a halt beside him. You looked up at him, and the Capitol haze made his blond hair shine almost silver. Stunning. He was absolutely stunning.
“I know it’s hard,” he said, brushing your hair from your face with careful fingers. “But we don’t get to be soft right now. Not when everything we want is within reach.”
You blinked up at him, uncertain.
He leaned closer, voice dropping like it was a secret meant only for you.
“We’re doing this for a reason. You and me. The mentor who make it out of this with winning tributes—our lives change. We move forward. Higher. We don’t get stuck in the mud like the rest of them. The Games are there for a reason. To keep the districts in line. But now they’re also the one place we get to prove ourselves.”
You swallowed, your chest tightening. Your eyes never leaving his, not once.
He slid his hand to your cheek. “You want a future, don’t you? Not just for her. For us.”
Your throat bobbed. “I do. Of course, I do, Coryo,”
He smiled then—slow, warm, like sunlight cutting through clouds.
“Then we play the game, my angel,” he said softly. “And we win it.”
Something about the way he said we made your pulse flutter. As if your names were already written into the Capitol’s future. As if this moment, however sharp around the edges, was only the beginning.
Like everything was already promised, and all you needed to do was just grab it.
You exhaled slowly, letting the guilt drift back into the shadows. He was right. He always had a way of being right. And you were grateful he was there to bring you back to common sense.
“I hate when you talk like that,” you whispered, lips curving into a reluctant smile.
“Why?” he teased.
“Because you always make me believe it.”
His grin widened, all charm and quiet power. He kissed the back of your hand, elegant and practiced. “Good.”
The two of you then continued down the path—two golden children of the Capitol, walking the road toward something both of you could only hope for; while Coryo was determined to grab.
A life he deserved, with plenty of money, power, and the Angel of the Captial at his side.
⚠️ : age gap, coryo was ur fathers “friend”, young pregnancy, strange relationship dynamics (you’ll see)
The dining room was grand with a long mahogany table set with fine china and silverware. The walls were lined with paintings and tapestries, and beautiful crystal chandeliers hung overhead, casting a soft golden glow over the room. The President was already sitting at the head of the table, looking up you as you entered the room. “Husband. Good Evening” you bowed her head in respect. Coriolanus stood as you entered, a small smile on his face. He extended a hand towards the seat next to him, gesturing for you to take it. "Good evening, y/n. You look lovely tonight. Please, sit." he sounded more relaxed than usual, he was usually cold. “Kind of you. to say. Thank you.” you walk over to take your seat.
Avoxes quickly start serving you and Coriolanus your food and pouring drinks then quietly take their leave. "I hope you're hungry, I've had the chefs prepare a special meal for us tonight." Coriolanus smiles. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes on you. You grab your golden goblet full of water, you had to stop drinking due to you being almost two months pregnant. Coriolanus notices the look of disappointment that crosses your face as you looks at your goblet of water. "I take it you're missing the wine?" he picks up his own goblet, which was filled with red wine. “A bit.” you missed the feeling of drinking it, in other words you missed being able to feel that dizzy-like mental state, to just crash out.
"I suppose I'll have to enjoy the wine for the both of us then.” he says, raising his glass to his lips. Maybe it was because you were pregnant but he was kinder than ever these last few days since you both found out. “How was your day?” you start cutting up your steak. "Ah, my day." He takes another sip of wine, leaning back in his chair. "It was...fine." Truthfully, his day had been exhausting, filled with political meetings and endless paperwork. But he didn't want to bore you with the details. You didn’t have much of a fun filled day either, You mostly just did your duties.
“I met with the top peacekeeping commanders, That was fun in a way.” you put a piece of steak in your mouth. "Ah, I'm sure that was very fun" he says, his tone lightly sarcastic. "Lots of egos in that room, I imagine." he grabs his wine. “Yes but everyone managed to get their medals without too much of a fuss. they were all pretty excited for my visit” you lightly chuckled. Coriolanus chuckles, he can just imagine the commanders fighting for your attention.
"Like a pack of hounds vying for your attention, all panting and drooling over themselves." He pictured it in his head, a mental picture of those grunts trying to impress you. You’ve always been a beautiful girl, always. “Boosts morale. That’s what PR said anyways.” You shrugged. "Yes, Nothing boosts morale more than a pretty girl handing out shiny medals." He drinks his wine trying to savor the taste.
You wanted to ask him a question…. but you didn’t know how to go about it. You didn’t want Coriolanus to be angry or upset. You were enjoying this kinder side of him. You took a deep breath and spoke. “And you …. Before you met me there must’ve been a girl who pushed you to want to be better… when you were a young man.” You looked down at your plate picking at your salad with your fork. His smile fades slightly, He sets his wine glass on the table, his fingers tracing the rim. "There was someone," he says softly, his voice was distant. "But that was a long time ago. We were young and foolish, and it didn't end well." It seemed like he was trying to breeze past it so you didn’t push him further.
You wondered what happened between them though. If he and this girl worked out then you wouldn’t be pregnant, you would’ve been at the university dorms right now (maybe even at a nightclub). You would’ve been free. “Sorry. I forget myself.” You whispered. He shakes his head, his eyes still distant as memories flood his thoughts. "No, no. It's fine. You don't need to apologize." he smiled, a faint one it was so quick. He reaches for his wine glass again, taking another slow sip before speaking.“It was a long time ago. Water under the bridge, as they say." that was the nicer way of saying she’s at the bottom of the district 12 lake.
His eyes fixed on your face. "Have you ever... been in love before?" he didn’t want to know but he felt like he had to know. You decided to be honest because he could probably sniff out a lie like a hound dog. “Puppy love, When I was at the academy.” you could’ve just said two years ago but you felt like your days of being a student were a lifetime ago. His heart sinks a little. He doesn't know why, but the thought of you being in love with someone else stirs a strange feeling inside of him. A sensation he can't quite name but the last time he felt this way, it didn’t end well.
"Ah." *He says softly, his voice betraying nothing of what he's feeling. “And what happened? If you don't mind me asking, of course." You were sure he knew because your dad most likely complained about it to him. “Father didn’t appreciate me wanting to be with a “Vanderbilt.” mutt” You sighed trying to hide the sudden wave of sadness that was going through you. He knows the name Vanderbilt, knows they are powerful and new money from District 1. "The classic ‘love vs. duty’ scenario. A tale as old as time in Panem. What after that." He grabbed a bread roll.
“After that I graduated then father told me that you and I… we- we were betrothed, that I was going to be First Lady.” you so bad wished you could grab a cup of wine and drink it down in one go. “Yes, well your father and I...go way back.” he says, his voice neutral. "It was weird for me to at first, I watched you grow up." He pats the top of your hand.
“That’s why it made sense he said..” you shrug. Coriolanus chuckles softly, his eyes still fixed on your face. The age gap was considerable, not that it mattered to your father. "Yes, your father was very...persistent in his belief that you and I would make a good match. He was quite convincing.” He raised up his hand that displayed his wedding band, that gold band that tied you to him forever.
He leans back in his chair, his eyes flickering as he tries to recall the conversation with your father. "He said that you would make a fine First Lady. That you have grown beautiful, clever, and poised. He said that you would be the perfect partner for me, both politically and personally.” You just blinked. “I didn’t get a proposition, he just told me I was engaged. Very casually.” You tried to joke, He studies your face, noticing the hint of disappointment in your eyes. Hiding behind your fake laugh. He can't blame you for not liking your arrangement. you poor child.
"I know it must have been difficult for you, Having no choice in the matter. I know it isn't what you wanted." His sympathies about the situation were real, but he didn’t regret anything. “I’ve learned to manage. I live better than most.” Your eyes go back to your food, trying to hide your emotions. You blamed it on your pregnancy hormones. "You've handled it well, my dear. Better than I could have, I imagine." He kissed your palm. You doubt he could even manage to do anything he didn’t want to do.
"You are strong, Stronger than you give yourself credit for. That's one of the things I've always admired about you, even when you were a young girl." The President smiles, his eyes flickering with a hint of something unreadable. You remember those baby blue orbs looking down at you for the first time, thinking his eyes were dreamy. The sight of your smile stirring something...strange in his chest.
"You've always been resilient. Capable. Intelligent." He meant every word. “Even as a girl?” You laughed, you used to be a playful young girl. He remembers you as that little girl, running around your father's estate, your pigtails flying behind you as you chased the family dogs. “Yes, Even as a girl.” He chuckles before he finished his thought “You had this sense about you, even then. Determination, I suppose. A drive to achieve greatness." He kisses the top of your hand again. He studies you for several moments, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. The day he first saw you you were a shy girl with pigtails and hot pink hair clips and now you’re a woman, his gorgeous wife.
“You've come a long way, y/n. I’m very proud of you.” He says softly moving his hand to your cheek to caresses it. You didn’t love Coriolanus romantically you appreciated his praises, needed them even. “Thank you Sir.” your e/c eyes look into his blue ones. “Sir” just slipped out, a force of habitat? You placed your hand on your stomach instinctively.
He chuckles at the formality, a small smile forming on his lips. "You don't have to call me Sir, We've known each other too long for that, my darling.” He moved his hand to your stomach, his baby was growing in you. “Yes, you’re right.” you agreed.
"How far along are you now?" he asks, trying to keep his tone casual. A month. Stomach still not huge with child. “A month.” you kept the tone casual. The President nods, A month wasn't so long, but already he could see a change in you. There was a glow about you. "A month," he says, his tone thoughtful. "That means...it'll be a winter baby, then." he smiled.
“Yes, that’s right.” you replied. The President takes a sip of his wine, his eyes lingering on your stomach for a few moments before returning to your face. “A winter baby," he repeats, his tone soft. “a snow being born in the winter, how funny.” you took another bite out of your food. The President smiles at your words, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement.
“A 'Snow' being born during a snowfall," he says quietly. "It's almost poetic, isn't it?" Coriolanus smiles, you only nod in agreement. “Mm.” you hum. Coriolanus leans back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. "I bet your father would find it amusing, He’ll call it destiny" *he says, his tone slightly sarcastic. “Yeah.. you know my father.” you chuckle. Coriolanus chuckles at your response. "I can practically hear him now, telling me about how it was meant to be." he takes another drink of wine.
Coriolanus watches you eat for a few moments, his eyes flickering over your face. You’re lovely, he thinks. Beautiful and poised. A perfect First Lady. “You know, y/n," he says quietly. "I never thought...this is how our lives would turn out. Us, married. Expecting a baby." He smiles, he placed a hand on your thigh.
“Yes. I would’ve thought I’d be training to be a historian, I’d never think I’d be a mother this early.” You didn’t sound sad to him just a bit caught off guard. He had a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. He knows you had ambitions of your own, dreams beyond being just a wife and mother. "I remember you used to talk about becoming a historian," he says, his tone thoughtful. "You were always so passionate about the past, about uncovering the stories of the people who came before us."
That made you think of a memory, an old birthday. You looked back at the past fondly. “What are you thinking about?” he smiled rubbing up your thigh. “The time you joined my family for dinner for my… was it 12th birthday… i remember you got me a book of poems…” You remembered reading that book a dozen times, taking it with you everywhere. You wondered how little you would react to you telling her that “Mr. Snow” would impregnate you in the future.
He remember that birthday, remembered gifting you that book of poems. "Yes, I did," he says quietly. "You were a voracious reader even back then, always devouring any book you could get your hands on." He felt a lump in his throat, he drank his wine and cleared his throat. “You were a strange child," he says, his tone teasing. “Most kids your age would have wanted dolls or toys, but you wanted a book of poety." He kisses your hand again. “Yeah. And now that strange child is now your First Lady, funny how life works.” a dry laugh slips through. he nods.
He placed his hand on your stomach. “I want another after this. maybe even two more” he joked.
