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
summary: a teacher can do a lot in private lessons.
c.w: reader is 19 for repeating a year, age gap (coryo's 29), fingering, tummy bulge, heavy smut, edging (f. recieving), overstimulation, stuffed panties, mild public sex, petnames (coryo calls reader bunny, pet, good girl.), reader thinks coryo is married so . cheating implications, marriage proposal
being a dumb girl was something you tried your best to do ever since you repeated the first year of high school, watching all your friends graduating before you was something you weren't proud about- not for them, but for you. you were supposed to be by their side.
thankfully, you had your professor, coriolanus snow. god. he was the only reason for you to pay attention to class (or at least try to), you were hungry for his approval. for you to be called a "good girl", and be said that you've done well in your tests? yeah, you were willing to do anything for that.
when he offered you private classes, you said yeah without even thinking much. you needed to learn, and spending more time with him was something you craved for. the ring on his finger? fuck it. you wanted it. you deserved it. more than his wife – if he had one.
you've been day dreaming about it constantly, eyes always searching for his on every class you had with him, and he would keep that smile painted on his face, not wanting anyone to think you were the reason for him to be smiling, even if you were, the didn't need to know about it.
"bunny," he voiced, leaning on your desk and taking advantage of the fact that you both were on the library, every student on the school had gone home and the teachers had gathered to go to a nearby bar. "stop looking at my dick now, will we?" he said, chuckling at you.
"huh?" you asked, finally waking to your reality.
"you need to learn that if you don't want to repeat a grade again." he said, sitting by your side, his hand holding your thigh. "you don't want to repeat now, do you?" you shaked your head negatively, and he loved seeing you like that, shy as a kitten even if you usually had his dick on your mouth when that used to happen. "c'mon, don't look at me like that. we have to put these things on your brain if you want to graduate already." he said.
his fingers slowly travelled all the way up on your panties, finding a small damp on the fabric, he looked at you with his usual smirk, his pupils blown already from everything he was about to do to you.
and now you looked like a mess. hands gripping on the library desk as your legs trembled with the aftermath of every time you almost came. you counted six till now, crying from how good it felt having him behind you, his fingers thrusting lewdly into your cunt.
"c-coryo- t-teacher, please. please stop it, i have to cum- i can't hold it in anymore!" you begged, clenching as his fingers rubbed deliciously on your clit after thrusting so many times inside you.
"well, it's not my fault, pet. you're the one getting your questions wrong." he said, pulling his dick to tease the core of your pussy, your cries only making him feel and making his ego bigger. "tell me, baby, how do you want it?"
"q-quick, pleease! if it get slower i-i think i'll die!" you said, legs spread as your skirt revealed a small part of your ass.
"oh, c'mon, i'm sure you can take it, baby" he purred in your ear, the tip of his cock teasing your pussy and slapping your clit slightly, making your body jolt slightly. you bend over, your elbows being now your main support at that table.
"please, teacher..!" you begged. but he didn’t even bat an eye to your cries, slowly sliding his dick inside you, and fuck, you both fucked on wednesday, how come he always seems to stretch you up so good? the pace he choose to torture you with was so slow, making sure you felt every inch of his dick inside you, stretching you, making you his. "please, don't do that to me. j-just ask something easier!" you cried.
"easier? okay... let's see" his hips bucked slowly into yours, your pussy gushing around him as if your own body needed that- as if he was the hair you breathed for. "what's your age, babe?" he asked, a playful tone being cast as his free hand massaged your boob, pinching on your nipple and freeing both your boobs from it's cage.
"n-nineteen." you said, and he laughed again as he said: "good girl, you're right.", his hips giving you a powerful thrust that made you cum with only that, making you cry from your own humiliation.
"ah, bunny, don't tell me you came already only with that." he said, joking with your face as you cried.
"i'm sorry- too good. i-it was too deep." he laughed, pulling back and thrusting deeper again, this time, you made sure not to cum again, edging yourself as he changed your position to put your leg over his broad shoulder, his dick making a bulge appear at your tummy. he loved that view- much more than he loved you.
"look at you, taking me so well. how does it feel, baby? use one of the words we learned at the literature class," he grunted your tightness coating his dick with your own juices, "use them, even if it's just two, and i'll let you cum."
"tortuous," you begin, crying from how good it felt, from how dumb you were getting. "spiralling, it's twirling my insides!" you cried. and he smilled, kissing and licking your tears before placing the most gentle kiss on your lips, pouding faster into you as you closed your eyes shut, moaning and grunting from all the pleasure- and yet you tried your best to avoid moaning only to hear his moans and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.
"good girl." he said, his hands holding your hips as he fucked you. it felt truly out of your world experience. his phone ringed just at the right moment he hit your cervix. "t-teacher, your phone- it can be your wife." you said, earning a frown from him as he turned the phone off.
"wife? baby, i'm single." he said, chuckling at you. "you've been walking around school with my cum stuffed in your panties even thought you thought i was married?" he pounded into you with a more quicken pace. "god, what a dirty girl you are. fucking around with married teachers." he teased you.
you felt a heat on your cheeks that you never felt before. god, how much would you end up humiliating yourself? "b-but, fuck! y-your ring-"
he showed you the ring. taking it off his finger with his mouth and sticking his tongue to you, an invitation for you to take the ring.
"keep it." he said once you took the ring
"but- s-sir, i-"
"mm, bunny, i'm a faithful man." he said. "and right now, i'm faithful to you." he said. you squirmed deliciously at the feeling of his cock filling you up again, his tip on your cervix as you came again, and soon enough, he came too.
he helped you get dressed into your panties again and straightned your clothes, a cast kiss on your lips before he smiled sweetly at you, putting the ring on your middle finger.
"i hope you know what that means."
"i-i do." you said, for both questions heavily implied in that context.
"great. then make sure to graduate, bunny." he smiled. "i'm sure the honeymoon will be great."
Coriolanus is 12 when he sees you for the first time. Your red uniform is pressed perfectly and your school bag looks brand new. Your lunch consisted of a hearty-looking sandwich with roast beef and lettuce and a container of fresh fruit that had his mouth-watering.
"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." Your voice fills his ears
A delicate-looking hand is holding a juicy-looking strawberry in front of him. He reaches for it and it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove it in his mouth. Instead, he takes a small bite and thanks you for sharing.
"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask
He doesn't. The school had said they would start supplying the students with lunches soon but how soon? Coriolanus had already been attending for a number of years and still nothing.
"I already ate it." He lied
"You're still hungry though. You can have the rest." You say with a smile as you push your fruit bowl to him.
"Is it your first day?" He asks
"Yes, my mother thought that my governess wasn't doing a good job so she had my father enroll me here. I miss being at home with my new kitten though. She has long white hair and she is the cutest thing in the whole world." You said
Coriolanus can't believe that you had your own governess, let alone a pet to call your own. He later learns from Arachne that your father became incredibly rich by manufacturing weaponry for the Capitol. Despite your inherent wealth, you've never flashed it around him.
You and Coriolanus are 15 when you discover all the lies he tells at school about his family. He had left his uniform jacket behind on his chair and you got his home address from Sejanus, meaning to give it back so he'd have it for tomorrow. Instead, you had discovered the Snow's decrepit-looking building and barely functioning penthouse. Coriolanus' heart nearly stops when he emerges from his room to see you and his Grandma'am sitting together as she compliments your shoes.
"What are you doing here?" He asks, ready for your judgment and teasing words
"I wanted to return your jacket, Coryo. You'll need it for tomorrow."
The red of the jacket in your arms matches his face as he ushers you to the door, trying to hide the fact that Tigris was preparing cabbage in the kitchen that would undoubtedly stink the entire place up with the scent of the Snow's poverty.
"Stop rushing me, your cousin invited me to stay for dinner." You say trying to stop the way he is leading you to the door.
"You don't want what she is making. Tigris is a terrible cook." He said
Tigris lets out a shout of disagreement from the stove and Coriolanus ignores it.
"How about, I go out and get something to add to the meal Tigris is cooking, and by the time I get back you change your attitude about me staying for dinner Coryo. "
And with that, you walk out the door and slam it in his face. He's rather stunned at your declaration but knows you're serious. He rushes around their home, trying to clean up what he can while Tigris laughs at his frantic motions. Then, just as he was debating whether or not he wanted to change out of his uniform, you return from your short trip to the closest market.
"I wasn't sure what Tigris is cooking so I got a couple of things." You say placing the bags on the table.
Coriolanus is sure you spent a fortune on what is in these bags. Fresh bread accompanied by a sickly sweet fruit spread and a block of butter sits in one while the other holds something else in a brown box. You take your seat next to him at the ugly little table he has eaten too many meals at and cut a piece of the bread for Grandma'am. He is worried when Tigris starts portioning out the cabbage she cooked on the stove. Coriolanus watches your expression as you take a bite but nothing that he expected happens. You don't knit your brows in disgust or get up to leave and take your fresh bread and mysterious box with you. Instead, you go back for a second bite and compliment what Tigris has done with the food.
He sits stiffly next to you and can barely accept the slice of bread you offer him. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and Tigris reaches across the table and pinches his shoulder.
"Stop sitting like that, Coryo!" She scolds
"Like what?" He asks,aware that Tigris meant how oddly straight his back was.
"You're making her uncomfortable. You've been friends with her for years she isn't worried about what our home looks like." Tigris says
"She might not be but what happens when she goes to school tomorrow and talks?" He asks
He shuts up when he hears the sound of the bathroom door opening again.
"That was lovely Tigris. I've never had anything like it, I'll have to invite you all to my own home for dinner sometime. Our cook makes these pastries that are simply wonderful. They even get sold at local markets, which leads to this..."
His eyes widen when you finally unveil what was hiding in that second bag. A dozen expensive looking deserts sit in the brown box you brought, each one decorated differently.
"I hope I picked something everyone would like. I know Coryo mentioned that Grandma'am liked chocolate so I picked this one just for her."
Coriolanus feels a wide smile stretch across his face as you pass out your little desserts. His worries about you gossiping to their peers fade from view as he bites into what he thinks is a croissant. You laugh at his reaction and toss a napkin at his face which is most likely covered in the gooey fruit filling that was in his pastry.
He walks you back to your home that night and thanks you for making his night. He can't remember the last time Grandma'am had smiled from eating chocolate. You accept his thanks and gently tell him that he shouldn't be ashamed about his financial situation. He never gets to disagree with you though because a soft kiss is pressed to his lips followed by a rushed,
"Goodnight, Coryo! Thanks for the cabbage!"
He walks back to his own home with a jump in his step. Thoughts of you consume him as he smiles to himself, proud his first kiss was shared with you. He feels his heart burn with something that felt like it was going to come up and out his mouth as he finally made it back to his room, you officially had him wrapped around your finger.
Your room is flooded with sunlight the first time Coriolanus sees it. A soft, silky-looking bed spread sits atop one of the biggest beds he has seen as you beckon to your cat, Maisy to come and say hello to him. He looks at the oversized wooden dresser that sits against one wall. He sees the photograph of him and you that was taken a few weeks ago at your 17th birthday party nestled among little knickknacks. Books Coriolanus has never even heard of line your shelves as he you place a record on the player that sits on your desk. Soft sounds of a piano and the words from an unnamed singer fill your gorgeous room as he turns to you.
"Do you want to dance?" He finds himself asking
You accept and he leads you or well tries to. You're rather stiff and it turns out dancing is harder than it looks because he isn't any good at it either. You laugh as he trips over his feet and end up falling with him, landing on the ground entangled in each other. Your fingers brush his curls from his eyes as his nose brushes yours.
"What're you doing?" You ask quietly
"Nothing." He responds, his eyes flicking to your lips.
The moment his lips touch yours, a tingle shoots down his spine. This is a real kiss, not what you gave him when you were both 15. He cups your face and your hands are tangled in his hair as he deepens it. He felt his head spin as you moved against him, almost as if you wanted him to swallow you whole right here on your bedroom floor. A giddy feeling swelled in his chest when he pulled away for air.
"Coryo...what was that?" You ask
"I thought you'd know by now. That was a kiss, darling." He laughed brushing his thumb across your lip
"I know that...but why'd you give me one?" You ask
"Don't you know?" He smiles and places a chaste kiss on your lips "My heart, it burns for you, it always has."
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 'a million people around all i see is you'
pairing ; king!coriolanus snow x debutante!reader
in the glittering world of panem high society, you were raised to be perfect — the prized daughter of a powerful family. your family was prepared to make the match of the season. but when king coriolanus snow arrives unexpectedly, announcing his intention to marry, everything changes.
✰ tags ; bridgerton au, strangers to enemies to lovers, smut, angst, draaaaaama, century specific misogyny, fluff, regency era.
- definitely gets off to watching you break under his touch. he needs to see you go stupid on his cock. at first, youre alittle shy, hesitant, restrained. but as his thrusts get deeper, his touch gets more brazen, your control breaks bit by bit. he has you crying in record time, your thoughts fuzzy from how good he’s fucking you. you cant form a single coherent thought, other than his name ‘snow’ that you consistently scream and beg with each thrust of his hips, driving his cock into your sweet g spot. snow merely smiles, watching his pretty sweet thing cry and beg for his dick, unable to do anything else
- brat tamer. he loves the process of manipulating and coaxing you into believing that you were in the wrong. he’ll have you apologising profusely in between sucking his cock when initially your head was held high and refused to say sorry. he’ll bend you over the kitchen table and bury his face in your pussy until you’re begging for his forgiveness. (you can feel his lips twitch against your overstimulated clit in smugness). also the more mad he is the harder he fucks and the harder you cum.
- he definitely makes noises during sex, albeit restrained. his lips pressed into a thin line to suppress a moan when you grind down hard on his dick. sometimes, when you suddenly drop down onto his cock when you ride him, a moan slips out before he can restrain it. you can see the pleasure in his eyes, the hunger. but he’s coriolanus snow and he has to be in control.
- certified pussy muncher. he will have you in all sorts of positions: him kneeling down beneath you, you on the bed with your pussy lips spread out for him, you on his desk with his head buried in between your thighs. he’s absolutely addicted to your taste, lapping you up orgasm after orgasm. when you cry from the overstimulation after your 3rd orgasm and try to squirm away from him, his arms simply clamp down onto your legs harder, holding you down possessively as his lips wraps around your clit once more, giving it a harder suck out of retaliation.
- makes you ride him whilst he sits back and enjoys watching the show, his icy blue eyes full of hunger. there’s something hot about despite you being the one on top, he’s still the one in control.
- lowkey kinky as hell. using his belt to wrap around your neck as a collar and tugging you towards him, pulls your hair, marking you as his . its all mind games for him.
- of course, he can be sweet during sex too. especially when he wants a baby. he’ll crawl into bed after a long day, gently wrapping his strong arms around you and pull him to his chest. “baby, i missed you,” he says softly into your hair as he pulls you closer. “lets make a baby.” “now?” you ask sleepily, snuggling into his warmth. in the darkness, he moves on top of you, smothering you with kisses all over as his hands slip under your shirt to grope at your tits. … you end up getting stuffed with his cum.
—
a/n yalls im so thirsty for this man and all the other hunger games men r so freaking fine. cant wait for sunrise on the reaping to come out
summary: the subtle, obvious, sweet, and at times - dangerous - ways Coriolanus shows his love for you.
tags: coriolanus snow x fem!reader, possessive and lovesick!Snow, mostly fluff with light allusions to smut, significantly off-canon from movie (no lucy gray and no sejanus betrayal), CW possessive/dark behavior, graphic descriptions of murder, violence (it's only the last bit of this fic that's quite dark/violent, so feel free to read up until then. Please take care of yourself!!!)
At the beginning, he would mask his true feelings and physical urges towards you with a tight lipped grin and a reserved compliment. Something that acknowledges something you've done objectively well, with a genuine softness that didn't apply to any of his other classmates, but seemingly delivered in a nonchalant matter to feign indifference.
"Great dodge." he'd say to you, both of your chests heaving from adrenaline during fencing class. You'd nod gently, a shy "thank you" leaving your lips.
But when Clemensia wins the next round against him, Coriolanus doesn't go above simply shake her left hand in courtesy before leaving the arena briskly.
"Well played." he'd joke, when it was revealed during the final student appraisal that you'd beaten Coriolanus' marks by a few points. Despite Archane and Felix throwing subtle jabs at his way for "losing" the star student title, you'd just shrug off the compliment profusely, praising him endlessly.
"A mere fluke, really. You're the brilliant student. I reckon I just study hard and get lucky." you'd reply, straightening the cuffs of your jacket nervously. The blonde always found it so endearing how bad you were at taking compliments.
So different from the rest of the scum in Capitol, he thought.
Eventually, he'd start to turn his verbal compliments towards things unrelated to your capabilities and work. And more towards things that were of a personal nature, like your looks and dress.
"Your hair looks very nice today." he comments one afternoon late after school, his shoulders brushing against yours as you both await your rides home. Your hands fly up to your hair, to the small crown of daisies adorning your head, as if you've almost forgotten what you were wearing.
"You think so?" you shyly ask, looking up at him nervously. "I wouldn't have worn it to the academy if we hadn't been called down on immediate notice. It's just that the family I babysit for on the weekends, their daughter just turned six and... well, she was very insistent on making me a flower crown."
He finds your embarrassment awfully cute.
"But I swear, when Dr Gaul turned to look at me today, I thought she was going to kill me."
Coriolanus only rolls his eyes playfully at that, knocking his shoulders against yours.
"And what would she know about first rate fashion? You look amazing."
It's the nicest compliment you've gotten over a silly crown of flowers, your heart warming and your breath stuttering at his words. It's what motivates you to lightly squeeze his right arm before you get into the car, your touch lingering in his mind long after you depart.
A month later, Coriolanus runs into you at the farmer's market on a Sunday. His instructions by Tigris to "buy some bread and oranges for tomorrow" are almost forgotten in one fell swoop when he sees you. Free from your usual academic attire, you're wearing a flowy lilac dress which sits right below your knees, the silky fabric glowing in the yellow sunlight.
"This color really suits you." he decides to whisper in your ear after discreetly sliding into the space next to you, the action so sudden that it causes you to jump. Your shoulders soften when you recognize his striking blue irises, and then you pout, punching him right in the chest.
"You scared me, Snow." you jokingly scold him. "And where are your manners? You should always introduce yourself first to a lady."
He pretends to be wounded by that, hand on heart whilst leaning backwards.
"My deepest apologies. Would this help?" he asks, effortlessly pulling a white rose from his back pocket. He revels in how your gaze lightens up in awe and amusement at the gesture.
"Perhaps so." you reply back, fingertips brushing against his.
The blonde takes it as a sign to slide it behind your ear, the memory of your etheral form with his flower tucked behind your right ear etched into his mind before you're called away by your friends.
------------------------------
two: soft touches
Once he's sure that his feelings are reciprocated, Coriolanus would start to step the line over into something more serious. He's not willing to open up immediately nor is he necessarily a man of romantic prose. A large part of him is scared, even, of the way you make him feel.
After all, what is love if not vulnerability?
And how he could be vulnerable with you, a woman so far out of his league, widely adored and your family amongst the wealthiest in Panem?
So it would start off when the class seating arrangements are changed and you're seated next to Coriolanus for the remainder of the year.
He'd start to purposefully spread his legs a little bit wider than usual, his knees always brushing against yours.
He'd take every chance he could to lean over to explain something to you, his face a few inches away from yours, if you ever seemed stuck on a question.
He'd open the classroom door for you in the mornings and offer to carry your heavy textbooks back to your family's car after school, insisting that it was because he wouldn't want you to trip on your heels. And if you'd ever insist on carrying the books on your own, he'd keep a gentle hand on your upper back to keep you upright "in balance."
Once, whilst presenting a speech at your father's fundraising dinner that you'd stayed up all night preparing for, you accidentally lose track of your speech. You stumble on your words, voice cracking in panic as you start to scan the page of thick text, all of which suddenly seem jumbled up and nonsensical.
Sensing distress, Coriolanus' hand quickly moves under the table to squeeze your left hand (hanging by your side) in a reassuring manner.
It's only then, somehow, that you find yourself able to re-focus on the printed text and continue your speech. Afterwards, you squeeze his hand back and whisper your gratitude.
"I owe you, Coriolanus."
Another time, it's a formal ball being hosted by the academy to mark the holiday season. After a few drinks, you're tipsy and manage to drag your friends up towards the balcony, despite it snowing outside and being below zero degrees.
Cautiously watching your every movement by where he's leaning by the bar, Coriolanus quickly makes an excuse to exit the conversation he found himself trapped in, before walking outside towards your shivering figure.
Your dress certainly isn't helping your situation, it being a satin slip dress with sleeves and a conservative cut out by your shoulders. It exposes your chilled skin as you rub the naked space with your arms, your staggered breaths coming out in white puffs of smoke.
"Corio! What're you doing he-" you start to walk towards him but nearly trip, his arms coming to supporting your body last second to save you from falling completely on your face.
"You shouldn't be outside in this weather." he comments, amused, as he helps you find your balance once more. But you refuse to re-enter the ballroom, choosing to instead excitedly ramble about how wonderful winter in the Capitol is and how you can't remember where you've placed your bag.
Listening earnestly to your ramblings with a smile on his face, he quickly shakes off his blazer.
"May I?" he asks. You blink slowly, heart fluttering at the gesture.
"O-okay."
The boy then carefully drapes his blazer over your shoulders, the act immediately enveloping your senses in his signature smells - oakwood and rose. Your fingers clutch the lapels of the jacket, your nose burrowing in to the softness of the fabric.
"Are you sure you won't be cold?"
He's freezing, of course, but he keeps his posture straight and tuck his hands into his pockets.
"I'm just fine. Don't you worry about me."
-------------------------------
three: nicknames
Once you two become an item, Coriolanus moves on to calling you affectionate names.
Of course, he'll prefer to call you by your name in professional settings - like during a presentation, in front of the Academy staff, at formal galas and dinners - but when it's just the two of you, or around people you both trust, or when he's jealous -
He almost never calls you by your name.
Darling is the classic, lovestruck expression he uses when he's being his most vulnerable. It's what he whispers into the gap underneath your neck when he's waking you up in the morning, landing kisses across your collarbone during sunrise. It's his greeting when he surprises you with a bouquet of flowers on your birthday, right before he whisks you away to a trip to district 1. It's what he cries into your hairline when you are hospitalized following a rogue rebel explosion on your trip home.
"Darling... darling, can you hear me?"
Coriolanus' voice is foggy, your head still ringing from the loud explosion earlier, but your heart still races at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand on yours. Throat croaking, you try to respond with an affirmative "yes", to which your boyfriend responds by quickly grabbing a near by cup of water.
Gently guiding the glass to your lips, he treats you as if you're a fragile porcelain doll: smoothing down your hair gently and fluffing up your pillows to lay you back down. It's only then that you get a good look at him under the flickering lights - the bags under his eyes look heavy, his usually neat hair a complete mess, his blue irises blood shot.
"Have you been sleeping, Corio?" you ask, worried, your thumb rubbing circles onto his palm. He chokes up at that, shaking his head sideways with a sad smile.
"How... how could you ask me that, darling? You've been in the hospital for days."
"I hope that doesn't mean you haven't been sleeping for days." you quip back, raising your eyebrows. Your boyfriend opens his mouth to lie, but the twitch of his lips gives him away. So you instead shift towards the left of your bed, making space for him on the mattress.
"Come on you silly man."
He smiles a guilty grin before snuggling up next to you, letting out a heavy sigh of content at your warm body against his.
Petal is his sweet, infatuated name for you when he's referring to you in conversation or calling out for you in front of friends and family. Tigris never fails to tease Coriolanus for the name, but he doesn't mind it - you're his flower, his precious petal.
"I can't believe you think this is ugly." Tigris sighs at the dinner table one night, shuffling through the myriad of designs on the desk. "This was going to be the design I send off to the boutique tomorrow."
"I didn't say it was ugly, I just think this design is far nicer." Coriolanus responds, pushing forward the blue design in front of him. His cousin pouts at that, clearly unsatisfied with his answer.
"Petal-" Coriolanus calls out for you, where you're cooking with grandma'am in the kitchen. "Could you come in for a moment?"
When your confused face pops into the room, Tigris quickly calls you over, dramatically stretching out her arms to grab you.
"Mr Snow seems to think this design - the gold sweetheart dress with lace trimmings - is uglier than this blue version. What do you think, (Y/n)?" she earnestly asks, pushing over the two designs to your direction. You shuffle through the papers intently, studying each drawing up close, before ultimately taking Tigris' side.
"I'd say your eye for design is impeccable, Tigris. And that Coriolanus should perhaps stick to things other than fashion."
That makes both grandma'am (who is listening in from the kitchen) and Tigris, burst out in laughter, with the latter throwing her arms around your waist in a sideways hug.
"Ah, I knew you were my favorite for a reason." she jokes.
"Petal, you wound me." your boyfriend jokes, a small scowl on his face for show. Though, when you lean down to kiss him, the scowl easily melts away.
My doll is what he calls you when he's driven sick by jealousy and possession. As, much to Coriolanus' distate, you have many admirers - due to you coming from a wealthy family and being a well known socialite in your own right.
Coriolanus has never liked Felix Ravinstill, but he swears his hatred for the president's son only tripled after you and Coriolanus became an item. Felix was never shy about his attraction to you - the forward compliments, the invitations to his house after school, the rush to sit next to you during lunch periods. But now, the blonde thinks, it's getting full on desperate.
As you sit reading a book in the hallways of tha academy, waiting for Coriolanus to finish his talk with Dr Gaul, the dark haired boy decides to chat with you. When your boyfriend opens the door discreetly, upon hearing your voice mingle with someone else's outside, his vision nearly turns red at how close the other man is to you.
You're pointing out something in your book to Felix, your innocent eyes fixated purely on the black and white text and thus completely missing how shamelessly the man next to you is eyeing you up and down. It takes Dr Gaul's shout - "actually, Ms (Y/n), could we have a word regarding your last proposal" - for Coriolanus' rage to slowly fade.
Instead, he starts to feel cold, hardened logic putting a plan into motion.
And once you're inside the classroom, Coriolanus doesn't hesitate to slam Felix up against the wall, making sure to angle the boy's head to hit directly against a marble statute. The impact isn't hard enough to crack the man's skull, the last minute measurement in Coriolanus' head ensuring that he wouldn't be punished for injuring the president's son.
But he makes sure that the impact hurts enough to leave a mark.
It makes Coriolanus' heart twist in pleasure.
"You better leave my doll alone, Ravinstill. She's not interested in you. She's never been interested in you." he spits, snarling like a ravenous dog.
"You're delusional, Snow, if you think she'd ever want to stay with you." Felix manages to spit out, trying to wiggle his way out of the taller man's hold, but Coriolanus is too strong.
"You're the only delusional one here. It's pathetic, really. All that money and social connections in the world, and it'll never be good enough for my doll."
Coriolanus can tell that hit a nerve with Felix, so he lets go of the shorter boy, nearly throwing him away to the side in the process. Pride and ego surges through his veins when you appear and call out for Coriolanus, so the blonde makes a concerted effort to kiss you fiercely for show.
His arm snaking around your shoulder to pull you right up against him, a devious smile on his lips.
-----------------------
four: lavish gifts and deep marks
Things only escalate once Coriolanus' tribute ends up winning the hunger games and he's crowned the winner of the Plinth Prize. Now saddled with money, reputation and a full ride scholarship to the university funneled by the Plinth family - he finally finds himself able to spoil you in all the ways possible.
Fresh flowers adorn your windowsill every morning. The finest jewellery and newest luxury bags are delivered to your doorstep at random. Perhaps most impressive of all, he buys a two bedroom apartment near the center of the Capitol for you two to move into.
"How'd you..." you can't even finish your sentence when you first see the place: the prime location, the high arched ceilings, the stainless marble... He hadn't even allowed you to pitch in any of your own - or your family's - money to buy the place, insisting that it was to be a complete surprise.
His arms come around your shoulder to hug you close, swaying you from side to side.
"Generosity of the Plinth family and the spoils of being the victor, darling." he drawls in your ear.
You're still in awe, hands tracing the intricate patterns of the roman columns supporting the ceiling, when he starts to tug you up the stairs.
"Would you like to see the view from our bedroom? It's magnificent."
Of course, Coriolanus' new elevated status and recent memory of acting as a mentor in the hunger games - planning, guiding, and having a role in the extended play of human lives - it all makes him quite obsessive and possessive of you. Given that you're one of the few people in his life who has known him for years now, before he was a mentor and before had all this money and status...
He has to make sure to keep you in his life. He's made a lot of enemies, after all, many of whom would like to harm him. And with his undying love for you, hurting you becomes an attractive option for his enemies.
So Coriolanus gets more possessive by becoming more shameless in public. He'll gladly call you his love in front of crowds of hundreds. He'll kiss you breathless and squeeze your lower back if he thinks a man is staring a bit too long at you. And when he knows you two will be separated for a few days - usually due to him having to travel out of the Capitol on business matters - he'll leave bite marks on your neck.
You didn't even think about how noticeable the marks might be when you rush out of bed one morning, having promised to attend an engagement dinner of a fellow classmate, Clemensia's. Your rude awakening comes when, mid-way through the rehearsal, Sejanus leans over to quietly ask if you've brought your foundation with you.
You scrunch your face at the odd question.
"Uh, yes... I have a powder compact in my bag, why?"
Your friend smiles at you apologetically, before motioning to your neck.
"Because, (Y/n), it looks like a vampire has bit you."
And when you look at your reflection in your wine glass, it's clear that you have odd, dark, bite shaped marks littering your collarbone and neck.
Later in the week, when Coriolanus has finally returned from his business trip, you try and scold him for it.
"I nearly died of shame, Corio. Seriously, you should've seen how Arachne was looking at me the whole night." you sigh, just as he laughs.
"You're over thinking it, darling. Besides, you weren't complaining when I was leaving those marks on you on Tuesday."
You open his mouth to scold him again, but find yourself unable to mutter a smart response, your thoughts flying away when he's back to attacking your skin with his mouth.
After all, you're like a drug to him - he can never get enough.
---------------------------------------
five: killing for you
Once Coriolanus is sure that you're not going to leave him, he finds it appropriate to take it to the next level: marriage. He drops a few thousand dollars on a large diamond ring, a ring which he makes sure you never take off (except in the shower).
At this point, the thought of losing you nearly equals his fears of losing everything he's built so far: becoming wealthy, powerful and well known amongst the Capitol's elite. He's terrified of living in a world without you and so he considers anyone who is deemed a threat must be dealt with in a secure, efficient manner.
No mercy, no hesitation.
After all, Coriolanus thinks one night, whilst sharpening a spare knife in the kitchen: if you give a rebel an inch, they'll run a mile.
The first person he kills is a security guard who fails to do their job correctly in protecting you.
He'd been hired by Coriolanus to protect you in your daily transport from the mansion to anywhere outside the Capitol (most often, to districts 1-3 to support your family's business dealings). But the bodyguard had failed to protect you one fateful winter day, leaving you to stumble back home with a twisted ankle and a busted lip as your bodyguard was only able to neutralize the threat after a few minutes of tussling with the gang's leader in the snow.
Your fiancee was fuming, sending you off to a near by hospital with grandma'am, before he motioned for your bodyguard to come downstairs to the empty garden.
The blonde didn't even feel an ounce of sorrow as he pulled the trigger, simply ordering the next bodyguard he'd hired to do the messy job of disposing of the body.
The second person he kills is a rebel who attempted to sneak a bomb underneath the car transporting you to the Capitol, following Coriolanus' announcement as candidate for the presidency.
The rebel was apprehended by the security detail team pretty quickly, so fast in fact that you weren't even made aware of the threat on your life. All you're told that day by Coriolanus' subordinates is that "there had been a change of plans" and you were to go to a fundraising dinner at an art museum instead to raise funds for the campaign.
And whilst you're off at the dinner, making a passionate speech for his presidency, Coriolanus makes an order for the rebel to be dragged out into the fields.
"You dare threaten the love of my life?" he sneers into the rebel's face, which is already bloodied and broken beyond recognition. The animalistic rage pumping through Coriolanus' veins is unlike anything he's ever felt before, and the gun in his hands suddenly feels like too much of a merciful ending for the rebel's crime.
"Just kill me." the rebel spits, but that only makes Coriolanus let out a sinister chuckle.
"Don't worry, I will. But I think a gun shot will be far too quick."
Instead, Coriolanus orders the man to be placed into a cage - a prototype that was being designed as a trap for the next year's games - and for a tub of venomous snakes to be released.
Whilst the other workers in his campaign look away from the horrific sight, Coriolanus just stares in great interest and pride. Once the screaming dies down, he calmly disposes of his bloodied shirt and hails a ride to greet you at the museum entrance.
"All good?" you ask, noticing an odd expression on your lover's face. But he just kisses you lightly on the lips, chuckling.
"Of course, petal. Why wouldn't it be?"
And so on and so forth. Whether it's directly or indirectly, Coriolanus becomes ruthless in securing your safety and your love. And he's so good at hiding it, he thinks, until one day he becomes a bit sloppy.
It was supposed to be an easygoing dinner at the mansion, a wealthy donor - his top donor, his campaign manager had informed him - named Robert Hemingworth had requested a private dinner. Coriolanus intially wanted to refuse, hating the thought of inviting a stranger to his home, but both you and his campaign manager agreed that it was best to play nice given the money at stake.
"For your troubles." Robert had said on his way in, a snarky smirk on his lips. In his arms were a basket of wines and grapes worth a pretty penny, but Coriolanus couldn't help but think that there was something about the brunette's gaze that he didn't trust. But with pursed lips and a fake smile, he forced out a thank you and invited the man into the foyer.
"What a... charming little abode." the oil tycoon had drawled, his gloved hands tracing along the walls. The sly comments and odd compliments (in truth, backhanded compliments) continued through out the night, all the way from appetizer to the main course. Sipping on copious bottles of red wine in an effort to keep himself grounded, Coriolanus was managing to keep his temper down until the older man asked about your whereabouts.
"Will your charming fiancee not be joining us?"
He froze at the man's questions, the hungry look in the millionaire's eyes and the underlying threat weighing down the atmosphere. The desserts had now arrived, two maids scurrying in with small plates of bread pudding, both of whom Coriolanus quickly dismissed with a wave of his hand.
"She's out with Tigris. Dress shopping." he'd decided to leave it at that, his left hand squeezing his glass so tight the glass started to crack. Coriolanus had hoped the man would leave the discussion there, as he wasn't sure what he was capable of doing if the older man didn't.
But the man continued. A disgusting moan escaping his lips in satisfaction after biting into the pudding, a devious smirk on his lips to match.
"Ah. Well, what a shame. I was hoping she would be part of the dessert."
No sooner than those words leave the millionaire's mouth, Coriolanus' left hand grabbed the knife laying on the board in front of him, where moments ago the maids were cutting cheese and ham. He then brings the blade to swiftly meet the older man's stomach, white dress shirt staining crimson red, all the while Coriolanus refuses to break the man's gaze.
"You fucking disgust me. Everyone in the Capitol fucking disgusts me one way or another, but you? You dare invite yourself to my home?" he retracts the knife, before stabbing it back into the suited man's flesh, each pause accentuated by another driving force.
"You dare speak about my love in such a vulgar manner?"
"You dare insinuate such sinful acts with my beloved?"
"You dare try and buy your way into her body?"
The marble floors are now flooded in a sea of red, the man's dying chokes and Coriolanus' heavy breaths overwhelming the room. The room stings of the smell of copper when you enter the space, quietly closing the door behind you, as you were only able to see the man on the floor and your boyfriend standing on top of him from the entrance.
"Corio? Love?"
The blonde turns around at the sound of your voice, face etched with annoyance.
Annoyed that you'd have to be subject to a vulgar sight like this. Annoyed that he'd stained your new kitchen set with an unworthy man's blood... And most of all, annoyed that he can't tell what you're thinking: your face kept completely neutral as you slowly approach him.
"You're back early." is all he decides to say, testing the waters.
You look down at his hands, soaked in hot blood, then down at the man who is writhing on the floor.
"Found what we wanted quickly, I suppose." you reply, stopping next to Coirolanus before leaning down to get a better look at the dying man. "Right, what was his deal?"
"Hm?"
It's only then that your plain expression breaks, your usually light eyes swimming with sinister charm, a coy smile breaking out on your face.
"Come on, Corio. You don't seriously think I didn't notice the amount of odd stains on your cufflinks? Or the terrified looks the house servants give you since the beginning of our engagement?"
He blinks, surprised. Coriolanus had always assumed he was covering his tracks well. Or that, at the very least, you'd have something to say about it all.
"He was making rather vulgar comments about you, darling. The bastard seems to have been making donations in an effort to get closer to you." he slowly explains as you stand back up, nodding slowly.
"Hm... Yes, that is rather concerning. And I suppose you've gone too far ahead for us to save him, always the temperamental lover you are." you tease.
Your humorous response and your unwillingness to run away from the darkness of the situation, it awakens something fierce in Coriolanus that he hasn't felt for you before.
"I suppose."
The euphoria he feels when your delicate fingers lace his to grab the knife instead, before you finally drive the blade down and end the man's life, is indescribable.
"I think you owe me a new dress." you say quietly, dropping the knife onto the floor.
The blonde wastes no time gathering you up in his arms, kissing you so fiercely that it almost hurts your neck.
"I think I owe you more than that, darling. How about the entirety of Panem?"
He'd do anything for you. The entirety of Panem be damned.
a/n: omg this has got to be the darkest piece of writing + fucked up ending I've ever written in like years of writing on tumblr 😅😭 but idk I'm obsessed with an idea of Corio's partner being someone who embraces him wholeheartedly and surprises him by being darker than she seems on the surface.
please leave a like/comment/reblog/ask if you've enjoyed, your support is what motivates me to write!
ALSO I've just re-opened my requests bc I would love to receive some corio fic ideas, so please send in your corio thoughts if you have any 🥺🥺🥺
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.
