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giuliettagaltieri · 8 months

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Claim the Heritage

Pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x First Lady!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Wife

Warning: casual dominance, marital quarrels, tension, vulnerability, explicit smut, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, body worship, brat taming, self destructive tendencies

Word Count: 4364

6 of 6

Coriolanus Snow has a knack of pushing himself too far.

He expects too much from himself and does everything in his power to meet those expectations.

As a student and a starting politician, he has done great things, contributing fresh insights to Panem. And now that he is the President, he has the power to do things with his own hands. No longer having to need the approval of people of higher status, not when he’s the President, nobody has power greater than his.

You worry that he might be forgetting his other responsibilities.

He is after all, not just Mister President but also your husband.

You see him often in the corridors and you exchange nothing more than sultry glances. It was fun the first time you have done it but you are left wanting now.

At night, the two of you come home late, too tired to get some action going.

You have needs that long to be fulfilled.

And your unfed desires manifested in your temper.

The men in the room are discussing the recent power outage that paralyzed Panem for a day. A malfunction caused by severe water temperatures in the hydroelectric dam in District 5 caused a cascading error in the system. The Capitol and a portion of District 1 and 2 were able to continue their operation due to generators but the other Districts suffered from it. And the one day pause of labor caused a slight drop to Panem’s stock charts.

All eight of your husband’s subordinates are trying to raise their opinions about the matter, how they will conduct another investigation as they are quite convinced it was human error, and how they will punish the one responsible for it too.

Their voices are starting to irritate you, making you tap your foot under the desk. Coriolanus seems to be ignoring them as he reads through the report. How he can manage to focus, you have absolutely no idea.

You try to regain your composure by taking a sip of water but it does not help, not one bit. Deep intakes of breath also seem to be not working.

Coriolanus is still reading the report, his back against his chair as one of his hands toy with his pen. His fingers are looking rather breathtaking today.

You look away before anyone could notice your desperation.

“Frankly, you are all arguing about matters that have been resolved already.” He murmurs and you are thankful for it as the room quiets down.

“What do you mean sir?”

You bite your cheek to stop yourself from berating the man. But Coriolanus can see that arch in your brow any day. You are pissed.

“You have something to say, wife?” He smiles knowingly at you and you look at him sharply but his smile only widens more.

“Well, all of you are being foolish!” You finally burst. Coriolanus leans back in his chair as if he is watching a rather interesting show. “There is a report given, and a very good one at that. Do you all have poor reading comprehension that you cannot understand that this is not a human error!”

The room falls silent as the men stare at you with their cheeks pinking in embarrassment.

Coriolanus clears his throat and leans closer to his desk. “I believe what the Missus wants to say is that we must be coming up with solutions to prevent this from happening again rather than point fingers.”

You glare at him again but Coriolanus is not looking at you but the men who are nodding in agreement. You hear a chorus of apologies from the men and you can’t help your bottom lip from jutting out in irritation.

“We can strengthen the system. A collaboration with District 3, perhaps?” A man says nervously, eyes flitting to you for approval but you don’t acknowledge him.

The other men raise their support. They have to stay in your good graces. All eight of them are dispensable. If you talk to your husband to eliminate them, there will be nothing they can do.

They are proud men, but they too are necessary associates, albeit shortsighted at times.

You lean on your chair and swivel it so you are partially facing your husband. “Another source of power.”

He nods at you to continue.

“A solar plant.” You say. “It is a good back up.”

Coriolanus rubs his chin and considers it for a moment. “Indeed. May I ask you to write a proposal, my love?”

“Of course.” You say and you begin tidying up your stuff. Coriolanus picks it up and addresses the men in general.

“I appreciate your…enthusiasm in helping our great nation. Good day, gentlemen.”

They all file out of the room, thanking the President and you. They all seem to sweat when you dismiss them with nothing but a brief nod.

Coriolanus leaves his chair and he eyes the pout in your lips.

“Have a great day.” You say as you stand.

“Leaving so soon?” He raises a brow.

You stop in your tracks to look at him weirdly. “You asked me to write a proposal?”

He hums at this and presses a chaste kiss on your lips. “I will be seeing you at lunch, then.” He guides you to the door and you both exit the meeting room to go to your separate offices.

His behavior is really really starting to irk you.

You are lying if you were not hoping that he would stop you and at least help out with the tension in your body.

But you guess not, he is a busy guy after all.

Coriolanus buries himself more and more with work.

You worry that he might be close to self-destruction.

The crops in District 9 suffered from a locust infestation and it kept him up very late for a few weeks.

You started to miss him very much. Try as you might to stay awake in your room, it is not until nearly sunrise when he joins you.

It hurts and you hate yourself for being selfish.

One morning as you share your breakfast, you notice that he is barely touching his food as he reads the report about the red tide poisoning in District 4.

“Corio, eat.” You say before your lips wrap around a strawberry.

He only hums in response as he flips to the next page of the report.

You glance at him and see the dark circles under his eyes, his skin looking dehydrated, and it is evidenced by the cracks in his lips.

“You will die before you turn thirty if you keep that up.” You say lowly before you suck on your finger absentmindedly, your eyes now scanning your bowl for the next strawberry you’ll eat.

This caught his attention.

“What did you just say?” There was a challenge in his voice and you hesitate for a moment, heart wanting to submit and apologize but the Swansworth blood courses through your veins and you fear you will shame the strong women before you if you fold so easily.

You look at him dead in the eye. “You will die before you turn thirty if you keep that up.” You smile at him sweetly. “Was that clear enough for you, or do I have to repeat myself again?”

His jaw tightens, his eyes sharp. He does not take mentions of his death lightly. Had you been anyone else, you would have your tongue cut off and live as an Avox.

“You really are your father’s daughter.” He sighs, trying his best to hide the amused smile you put on his face.

You wanted to retort but your words die in your tongue. Coriolanus glances up at you when you don’t speak. Usually, you would have bitten another comment at him. But you were only looking at your strawberries sadly, finger tracing the bowl that held them.

The sound of paper crinkling had you looking up. He folded the report away, he had the necessary information he needed anyway. Coriolanus knows you are watching him and he scoops a mouthful of truffle scrambled eggs. You gave him the sweetest smile he had seen on your face for weeks, and it was motivation enough for him to eat the breakfast that was served to him. Yet, he still finishes first.

You pout unknowingly when he wipes his lips with the napkin and walks over to kiss your forehead.

“I will be seeing you later for your report.”

“See you.” You reply with less enthusiasm.

He watches how sadness swam in your eyes and he leans closer to peck your lips and he is off.

You did not have much energy for work afterwards.

The meeting was at 10 in the morning and you arrived in the meeting room at 10:02. Coriolanus was not pleased.

He did not back you up when the other men in the room asked questions about your presentation. It was their job to pick apart your proposal and you only show them how flawless it is. They are finally satisfied with it after a while, your throat burning from how many questions they asked.

You are infuriated with your husband. You feel like he is throwing you to the wolves. Not that you can’t tame the said wolves but it made your blood boil.

“I have decided to call this solar plant, Coriolanus 9.” You attempt a smile and they actually bite. “In honor of our President, and us.” You purposefully let yourself blend in with the men in this proposal. You need to boost their morale from time to time.

All eight of them murmur their agreement, smiles wide as they feel honored just by being included in the project.

After a few more questions from them, your husband finally adjourns the meeting.

His lack of support was not appreciated and you are determined to get out of this stuffy meeting room.

“Gentlemen, that would be all.”

What about you?

Your lips part in protest but Coriolanus raises a finger at you, making you close your mouth as you narrow your eyes at him.

After the men filed out, you got up briskly, your chair wheeling back in a great speed.

“Careful.”

“Oh, so you’re talking now?” You snap, your hand placed on your hip.

Coriolanus only leans on his chair as he looks you in the eye, his chin tilted upwards.

“I am…” he pauses as he scratches his chin. “upset with you.”

You scoff. “You are upset with me? I am upset with you!” You point at him harshly. “You were the one who asked me to make a proposal and present it afterwards! But what did you do? You did not support me or give me assurance!”

“I was confident in your proposal.” Coriolanus stands up calmly, his hands in his pockets, his thumb jutting out.

You give him one final glare and you huff, turning your nose up as you look away. “I am done talking to you today.”

Coriolanus grips your arm before you can walk away.

His hand is warmer than usual and you frown.

“Do you need me to put you in your place?”

The threatening growl in his voice washed away all the fight in you.

You bite your lip nervously, the entire bottom lip disappearing behind a row of teeth. You shake your head and you tear up from how pathetic you have become for this man.

He smooths your hair and places a warm kiss against your temple. “Be good.” He murmurs.

You watch him collect his things and he throws you one final warning glance and he exits the meeting room. Your hands grip the hardwood table to steady yourself.

How dare he!

You are his wife, not some District whore that needs to be reprimanded, you will not allow such disrespect again!

Coriolanus is not surprised to see you miss lunch. His assistant tells him that you are having luncheon with Mrs. Plinth. And that…you canceled all your plans for the day. And the rest of the week.

He taps a finger on his desk and wonders if he pushed you too far earlier.

Coriolanus glances at your photo in his desk. Your smile was brighter then.

A slight pounding in his head makes him grimace and he groans.

There were two more bills he needed to get through before he could relax. Coriolanus inhales sharply, forcing his eyes to read through the files.

It was night time when he came home. He missed dinner again.

Coriolanus had an unsettling feeling in his stomach when he entered your home. It was dark and cold.

There was enough security outside but no signs of life inside.

Your servants usually retire after dinner and come back only in the mornings to serve you your breakfast.

But where are you?

Coriolanus doubles his steps to check your bedroom, you are not there.

His heart starts pounding, cold sweat dripping from his temple as he runs around his mansion in his tight suit. He wanted to ask the peacekeepers stationed outside if you are even in your mansion when he catches a glimpse of your sheer robe in your sunroom. He steps closer and sees you there, asleep in your plush chair, curled up around a book.

For a moment, he just stares at you, calming himself down. No one has taken you and you did not leave. Coriolanus seats himself to the identical chair across you and just looks at the rise and fall of your chest.

You must have fallen asleep as you were having your afternoon read. It appears you might have missed dinner, as none of the lights are on. The servants must have left it off so as to not disturb your sleep.

The night deepens and he just sits there, still convincing himself that you are still with him.

Coriolanus believes he will be there until morning comes but fate has other plans and your book slips from your hold, the hardcover making a loud slamming noise against the otherwise silent evening.

You jolt awake from the noise and when you reach for it, you catch a glimpse of him and you jolt for the second time.

“Heavens!” You clutch your chest tightly, your eyes glaring accusingly at him. “Do not scare me like that!”

He laughs hollowly.

“Apologies.” He mutters.

You lean back in your chair, holding your book in your lap.

“Have you eaten your dinner?” You ask just to break the silence.

“Not yet and neither did you.” He uncuffs his sleeves and loosens his tie.

You purse your lips. “I had tea and cakes this afternoon.”

“When did tea and cakes pass as dinner?” He drapes his waistcoat on the armrest together with his tie.

You choose not to answer as you have a feeling the question was rhetorical.

Coriolanus rests his arms on his thighs and clasps his hands as the silence lengthens. Moonlight was emitting a pale glow, it reflected on your faces and everything else was still.

“My father casts a very large shadow.” He tells you.

You nod. You both have that in common. But you do not want to tell him as his case was different. You are aware of his struggle while growing up, the things he has done that could have tarnished his name, and now, he has become the President, a leader of Panem, and the footsteps that his father left for him to follow might be too large for him.

“I wanted to do everything right. To do things how he would have done it. Maybe even more.”

You play with the edges of your book as you listen, afraid that if you’ll talk, his walls will come building itself up again.

“He was not the best father. Nor husband.” He chuckles bitterly. “I was sure, I would be just like him too.”

You bite your lip as you will yourself not to cry in front of him.

“But I enjoy your company, wife.” Coriolanus tells you truthfully. “I love you.” He confesses, making your chest tighten. “I do not wish for this marriage to fail.”

You cannot help how a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Come here.” He commands and you throw yourself to him, sobbing to his chest. “I am terribly sorry for being a lousy husband.”

Your tears soak his dress shirt as Coriolanus peppers kisses on your head.

“Been neglecting my wife, how awful of me.” His hand grips on your bum possessively. “When she should have been worshiped day by day.” His tone changes ever so slightly into something you hear only inside your bedroom walls.

You do not protest when he lays you on the chaise lounge. Your sobs turn to sniffles when Coriolanus parts your thighs and bunches your dress until it shows your abdomen.

“Corio.” You whisper his name like a prayer and he mumbles yours against your skin. You watch as he plants his lips on your scar. A scar that you got from taking a bullet for him.

It was not the last time you whispered his name in the dead of the night.

“Your petals always have the sweetest nectar.” He groans and you feel yourself shy away, hips hiking up and away from him but his arms tighten their hold around your thighs and he looks at you from there, his eyes giving you a silent warning.

“S-sorry-ah!” You gasp as his tongue darts out to lick the juices off your slit. His tongue pokes at your pearl and you break eye contact with him when he wraps his lips on your tiny nub.

Coriolanus looks at you with his eyes now lazy but his tongue, the opposite!

He kisses you and in an act of total impulsiveness, starts tracing his name on your clit. Coriolanus Snow was owning you in every way possible.

He had you reduced to your most carnal self. Your hands were on his platinum hair, gripping them tightly in your hold, selfishly pulling him in. Your thighs are resting on his broad shoulders. And your cunt, it was making a mess on your chaise lounge and on your husband’s face.

Coriolanus groans as he parts your lips so he could kiss your opening. His thick finger, that you have been craving, sliding on your juices before he plunges it knuckle-deep. It might have been a mistake on his part given your sensitivity after having to be forced to join him in his self-induced celibacy. Your lewd mewl brought rouge to his cheeks.

You bring your hands to your mouth to hush yourself and Coriolanus took that as a challenge. He sits up, sitting on his ankles to press your thigh to your chest as his finger prods at you from the inside.

You are writhing underneath him. Telling him how good he is making you feel. Oh, and he reveled in it. Every sound that comes from your lips, it fueled his desire more and more.

A second finger was added and you shriek from the stretch, it has been a while, he needs to be more gentle! But Coriolanus cannot help himself when you look so pretty. Your cheeks wet with tears, eyelashes clumping up, as your hands formed tiny fists. Any form of his self control has disappeared when you are gushing and pulsating around his fingers.

He knows you’re nearly there, so close!

You pant, closing your eyes as his fingers massaged your walls, coaxing you to climb higher and higher and-

“Coriolanus!” You yell furiously when he pulls his fingers out.

Your husband grins at you as he wipes his face from your slick.

“I seem to recall that someone was not a very good girl this morning?” His hands trailed at your hips and you almost tear up from frustration.

He was supposed to be making it up to you! He had no reason to bring up the events this morning.

In an act of defiance, you huff and you reach your own sex to flick at your clit. Your fingers are more delicate, making you gasp at the gentle pleasure.

Coriolanus grins as he watches you play with yourself. Enjoying how you grow more and more frustrated as you cannot give yourself the same pleasure. You shriek angrily as you pull your fingers away, you slam your tiny feet on the chaise and Coriolanus laughs.

“Are you done being a brat?”

You are too stubborn to answer but you do not stop him when he maneuvers you until you are on your stomach, you groan softly in discomfort when he pulls your hips so your cunt is presented to him beautifully.

His fingers are prodding your entrance again and you mewl when he pops his tip in. Coriolanus stays there for a moment as his hands, rough from his time as a peacekeeper, grips on your waist firmly.

“There’ll be no stopping, alright?” He reminds you. “We’re done when I say we’re done.”

You lift your head from the plush of the chaise lounge and you give him a nod.

“Put your head back down, my love.”

You do as he tells you and you brace yourself.

Coriolanus enters you with a sharp thrust, and your whimper is muffled by the cushions. Your husband thrusts at a steady speed, his eyes watching the impact ripple on your body.

Your breath hitches with every kiss his tip makes on your cervix. Every slap of his hips against you makes the crudest sound, sending a jolt of arousal through you. President Snow is a man of the most refined of tastes, the pinnacle of order. But when he beds you, he is just as raw, just as unrestrained.

“Don’t know why I deprived myself of your wet cunt for so long.” And his mouth spewing the most vulgar of things.

He uses his weight to push you further in the mattress so he can fuck you deeper. Your cunt spasms and you moan shakily, almost sobbing.

“Chase it, my love.” He groans deeply.

And you unravel, lewd sobs spilling from your polished tongue as your back arches, cunt creaming around his cock.

Coriolanus watches you sob, your shoulders shaking as his thrusts do not relent. His eyes flicker to where your bodies meet, your warm juices are dripping on his taut sack.

“Corio…Corio please! I don’t think I can anymore….”

“Hm?” He reaches to grab your chin. “Thought I told you that we’re only done when I say so?”

You look at him with tears sliding down your cheeks. You can’t even focus on him, body shuddering when your tummy feels another tight coil.

Coriolanus inhales sharply when he feels the familiar pulsation of your warm softness.

His tip twitches as it bumps your plump cervix. And when you call his name with your broken voice as you cum, he shoots his seed in you.

“Hah…hah.”

He is panting from on top of you, his hand placed against your bottom to keep himself up.

Coriolanus gently pulls himself out, watching the gossamer webbing of your arousal on his cock. He smacks your bum and you tighten your cunt to keep his seed from spilling. He scoots closer so he is holding you, your back against his chest as your legs tangled together.

The two of you gaze at the moon from the enormous windows of your sunroom. It was calm again. Nothing but your heartbeats and the gentle breathing lulling each of you closer to sleep.

“Corio.” You call his name softly.

He hums in response as he pulls you closer, just needing to feel you against him.

“The people of Panem are not your fucking masters.”

His brows meet and he glances at you, wondering where all of this is coming from.

“They cannot have you always cleaning up their mess like you are some District servant.”

He shifts you so you are facing him now. His stern brows meet to let you know you are on thin ice.

“You govern your people. You don’t coddle them. Let the District officials do their job. They must learn to solve their own problems and the Capitol Bureaucrats must see to it that they are doing it in ways that align with your judgment. And you lead them from the top.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

You yawn like the adorable thing you are. “So Snow lands on top.”

He clicks his tongue smoothly. “You are only attracted to power.”

“My love.” You say rather darkly. “You are power.”

Coriolanus falls silent, contemplating your words, letting himself process it.

He sighs as he looks at you in endearing defeat. “You just want a vacation, don’t you?”

You fight back a smile as you smack his chest.

“I am being serious, Coriolanus Snow.”

He pulls you closer, teeth glinting as he snickers. “I understand that, Y/N Snow.”

“Y/N Swansworth-Snow.” You remind him and he laughs.

“Of course, of course.”

You lean your head on his chest and your cheek soaks his warmth.

“You know, you are not your father, Corio.”

He winces. “I know…I’m just-”

“You are better.”

That sinks deep in him.

He now understands why there was something in you that pulled him in. No one in Panem, or in this world, could understand his soul in its most naked form. You are his stability. Someone whom he cannot scare away when he is darkest.

Because it seems like you might be exactly just like him. Just as cruel, just as evil, with no regards to anyone but each other.

And he is fine with that, even if the world is burned to ash around you.

“My love for you is catastrophic.” Coriolanus murmurs against your skin and you smile as you close your eyes.

You run your finger on his chest. “And my love for you is all-consuming.”

Coriolanus and you are obsessive, ablazed with reckless passion, villainous in nature, but it is easy to justify when you are both equally drunk with dangerous devotion.

The people of Panem be damned.

The odds will forever be in your favor.

Hunt for Glory

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