Suggestive Themes, Religious Allusions.

— suggestive themes, religious allusions.

sejanus plinth makes love as though he’s praying; practicing a religion he has thoroughly devoted himself to. a religion where you’re the sole deity, and he’s willing to give himself up, his own body autonomy, his vulnerability, as an offering.

sejanus knows wiser than most that a god won’t save anybody now, especially the districts, but his mind becomes clouded and dizzy with belief when he inhales your nectar-like scent and captures your ambrosia flavored lips between his.

first comes adoration. he leaves kisses along the side of your neck with a pleading, whining mantra of ‘please’s, asking permission to worship you. to bask in you. to prove his loyalty.

you don’t need to utter a word, just digging your fingers in his brunette curls is enough gospel and clarity to him.

and so comes confession. he proceeds with his ritual, hands gentle, light, but slow. sejanus is not the type to rush his prayers. he knows the more time he spends on his knees, the more rewards he’ll earn. the more he confesses his sins over and over again to you, the cleaner he’ll become. ridding himself of all his thoughts and letting himself become one with you was his momentary salvation.

then, thanksgiving. when he’s on the verge of losing himself in the feeling of your warmth and mercy, he begins to thank you incessantly. he blathers on about his gratitude, tears forming in his eyes, holding you so tight that his knuckles turn white.

and finally, his supplication also comes in white. as he halts his movements and pants in your ear, he feels rejuvenated again. full of hope. sejanus has given himself to you entirely and wholly, offered up his most primal gift, and he prays and prays to you for the day of deliverance.

"To this day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed." - The Hunger Games, Chapter 2, Suzanne Collins

[ID: A 8 page digital comic of the bread scene between katniss and peeta, interlaced with the text from the hunger games novel. End ID.]

you were coriolanus snow’s rosebud.

a head of styled and silk soft, golden locks, and eyes so icy blue that they contrast the heat that flushes the two of you as you gasp — pant — for air in a secluded hall of the academy. his pupils dart between yours with a subtle knit of his brows, so blown and full of need that you feel a second, more intense blush creeping up your neck.

could this really be the academy’s star senior? the most diligent student they could offer? skipping a lecture because his yearning is stronger than his desire to learn? those questions are rhetorical, of course, as all three were answered with a simple tug of your sleeve on your way to class, urging you to follow him wordlessly.

“what’s gotten into you, coryo? miss me too much?” you say, lightheartedly. his tense expression never falters, instead offering a twitch of his eye as he takes a short breather. he has a hand sprawled across the fabric of your uniform, holding you close by the small of your back, pushing you up against him, and another cupping your cheek.

coriolanus was emotionally complex. his conditioned way of thinking sadly did not get along with his feelings. he had a compulsive need to control, control, control, and you knew that. he struggled to not let anything slip through the cracks, but hid that behind the facade of a social chameleon.

the blond in front of you, however, was not the coriolanus people were accustomed to. so overcome with hastiness that he was borderline shaking.

“just… just need you… need you and nothing else. tell me you need me too. say it.” coriolanus whispers, demands, and you think for a second that it might be so others meandering through the halls don’t hear, but doubt that, judging by the way his fingers are digging into your skin and the urgency in his eyes. you take a moment to process his request, and nod your head briskly.

you admire the way a curl falls over his temple, so perfectly marigold and twisted, the way his irises look almost crystal-like and so clear that you can see yourself distinctly in the reflection. his lips, pretty and plump, like a meticulously cared for peony that you oh so dared to pluck.

“say it.” so lost in thoughts of admiration, you’re almost startled by the hoarseness of his voice. his tone is imposing, but the pleading pinch of his eyebrows begged and begged for your answer, afraid it might hear different.

“i need you, coriolanus. nothing else.” immediately, the blond’s features soften, wrinkles formed on his forehead finally smoothing over. you don’t question him in moments like this; he’s just in need of grounding every once in a while. the thumb placed on your cheekbone begins to caress you, and he rushes to your lips. hungry. needy. almost as if trying to devour you to keep you all to himself.

class can wait, you decide.

What about a Finnick Odair / Reader in a modern world where there’s no hunger games. What do you think they’re dynamic would be like

you take your eyes off the water, only to be met with the same blue, crashing and pulling in his eyes. the tanned skin around the corners of the distinct aquamarine hue crinkles as a result of his toothy grin, and he holds up a porcelain white conch to your ear, beckoning you to listen to the idle chatters of the sea. you laugh and comply, leaning into it to immerse yourself in the sound.

you could only describe finnick as whimsical in moments like these.

after an afternoon of surfing (or ‘taming the waters’ as he likes to call it), he prefers to end your day at the beach in a way he knows would get a laugh out of you in order to end it perfectly. because that’s what his perfect day consists of; you, and the sea.

you try to focus on the conch pressed up to your ear, but the way the setting sun shines on him is so magnificent, it’s almost cinematic. his hair is messy and coarse from the saltwater, and so prettily hangs along his forehead. a piercing dangles from his right ear, the gold pleated material complimenting the matching skin it’s against so well, differentiated only by the meticulously arranged freckles adorning him.

you continue to stare into his eyes as your body currently believed that sight is more important than sound, and each inch of him you admire leads you to believe he must’ve been a merman in a past life. maybe this one, too. he’s full of surprises.

finnick pulls the conch back and slightly raises an eyebrow, smile never faltering, taking you in just as much as you’ve been very obviously doing to him.

“so? amazing, right?” he asks, bringing his other hand out to tuck a sandy strand behind your ear, letting it linger.

you take a second to respond, still so entranced and too in love, completely blanking on the fact that his question was directed towards the songs of the water that he wanted to share, and not himself.

“beautiful… so, so beautiful.”

finnick chortles at your answer and proceeds to do what he does best, diving in to plant an energetic, yet soft kiss on your lips.

“come on, ariel.” you say as you break the kiss a few seconds in. “we’ve got to meet johanna for ice cream in an hour. race you home?”

currently no creative juices flowing.

request anything you’d like please! i’m open to writing about any character from all 4 books :)

Oh. My. God.

The way you wrote abt Sejanus making love like its religion 😳😳 Literally speechless it was perfect

Please please write more abt Sejanus 🙏🙏 (if you can and want to ofc)

thank you so much!! :D i’m soon going to be posting a little intro as this is my first time writing here, but i’m planning on posting way more of sejanus! and of course, i’m always taking requests, be it for sejanus or for any other character from the entirety of the hunger games franchise.