#Rome gets dramatic

[criminalskies]

i like my beezchuger like i like my beezchurger: beezchurger

I concur man I could demolish one of those rn I am FAMISHED. STARVING. WITHERING AWAY.

[brother-emperors]

spartacus and crassus :)

this is actually a rejected panel from a much longer comic I’ve been fucking around with on and off for awhile- I had plans to do a long form spartacus comic for a long time, I just keep missing the last book on my research list in second hand stores 😔 I always have money when the last copy sells out aughhh

anyway! I might call crassus my girl in the group chat, but I’ve actually spent more years wishing that spartacus got to run crassus through on his sword and then read the fate of rome out of his entrails. ALAS. on that note, isn’t it kind of interesting how spartacus’ funeral games for crixus turn roman order upside down and feel like both a foundational sacrifice and a curse? isn’t it kind of fun how crassus will not die in rome, and neither will pompey, who came in like a vulture to take credit for crassus’ work? (it’s VERY fun)

Plutarch, Crassus

[idkaguyorsomething]

with just about any incarnation of the doctor, any time they go “oh, but the master and i used to be friends 🥺” it tends to come with a sense of mystery, since they have such different goals, ideologies, and personalities. then you see some early first doctor episodes and yeah that tracks.

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

tagged by @spacepandar a literal year ago, but felt like it now, thank you Sasha!

Put your ‘On Repeat’ playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs:

Jolene - Dolly Parton

Just The Other Side Of Nowhere - Johnny Cash

Still Breathing - Green Day

Shake It Out - Florence + The Machine

Langeweile - Pankow

Tommi - AnnenMayKantereit

I am Stretched on your Grave - Kate Rusby

Irish Eyes - Rose Betts

Silver Springs (Live in Burbank, 1997) - Fleetwood Mac

In The Air Tonight - Phil Collins

tagging @moonprincess92 because i got fun music recs from her in the past, and @spacepandar if you feel like doing this again! everyone else please consider yourselves tagged if you feel like doing this, as you can see i could do with some more recent music to listen to lol

[the-tenth-arcanum]

I've been listening to this on a loop for a day and a half

[blustainedfingertips]

Anyway has anyone see the Måneskin scene from that new show Alert because I saw a bit of it on Instagram and let me tell you

That was the randomest shit I’ve ever seen

[navree]

i am nowhere near into denis villeneuve's proposed cleopatra movie in any way shape or form (pls for the love of god no more cleopatra movies, especially ones that try to cast her as something other than what she was) but if timmy chalamet brings some of the southern messiah speech energy to octavian then i might allow for a single solitary crumb of optimism.

also i remember that villeneuve said that he wanted daniel craig for caesar so my hope is that we're just gonna focus on caesar and cleopatra's relationship and her time in rome and not go further because that'll turn into horse shit right quick.

[thethingswedotomorrow]

Crowley has been with humanity since the beginning. The original serpent of eden, he is the first "monster" in humanity's bedtime stories. He is the figurative and literal demon on human's shoulders, always there to guide them one way or another. He's weaved through history itself, and prides himself on an impeccable track record of demonic activity throughout the last 6000 years.

But, naturally, after 6000 years, Crowley finds that he's spent more time pining after a certain Angel than doing any sort of work. Like, an extreme amount of pining.

And it isn't until after the notpocalypse that Crowley realizes that, entirely accidentally and very embarrassingly, he may have accidentally made his pining very, very public.

One of Crowley's favorite ways to waste a day is to take Aziraphale to different museums around the world and watch as the angel wanders around and points out all of the inaccuracies

"Good Lord Crowley, have you seen this painting? Portraying you as a dragon is a tad dramatic, I think. All we were doing were having a picnic. And I have never had my hair looking like that, thank you."

"I don't know Angel, they've got your wings spot on. Wa-Hang on, have they added horns to my head?"

"Oh, I see, suddenly it's only inaccurate when they've got you wrong."

The museums always seem to be miraculously empty, and whenever Crowley mentions this, Aziraphale suddenly finds a new, very interesting piece of art to admire

Crowley admires the lengths Aziraphale goes to to hide the small miracles he's done for Crowley's sake

As if Crowley wouldn't move literal mountains for the angel

*He did, actually, do that once.

In the 12th century, they were having a lovely evening together with multiple caskets of wine, up until Aziraphale complained about the amount of light in his eyes

"Honestly Crowley, all this sun and no shade, it must truly be awful for the humans around here with no shelter. It's a tad much, even for me."

Crowley, even then, immediately recognized this off-hand comment as an underhanded complaint, and knew that would not stand

When the small earthquake passed, Crowley claimed that the nearby church was on a fault line and he was simply doing his demonic duty by damaging holy goods in the area

If Aziraphale realized that the mountain range in the distance suddenly provided much more sun coverage, he never mentioned it.

Currently, however, Crowley follows Aziraphale around, wandering behind him and never truly looking at the things in the museum

In every single place they've ever gone together, there was only ever one thing that deserved Crowley's attention

And it certainly was not an inaccurate model of a 18th century tea set

But when Aziraphale wanders into a hall titled 'Love of the Past', he starts to panic. Just a very tiny amount, basically none at all. A small enough amount of panic that he could deny it, even to himself.

He thinks about the past, towards the beginning, back when Humanity was still getting it's footing and figuring out how to have governments and societies and (the most important part) figuring out the whole alcohol situation

Throughout the years, especially towards the beginning, Crowley began to resent any time not spent with Aziraphale

Everything seemed small and dull when compared to the way the Angel smiled when he saw new type of human dessert, or the way he laughed when Crowley managed to work out a clever comment

And once Crowley experienced those things, he never wanted anything else

He had seen the poetry the humans had written, how much emotion they could pour into a simple piece of parchment or a clay tablet

He never cared for written word, but he was shocked at just how much feeling the humans could manage to pour into words

So after Aziraphale left Rome (after the oysters and the wine and the smiles, for somebody's sake the smiles), he went due east for a new miracle on another continent

Crowley stayed and got well and truly drunk. As he did best.

He had spent a few weeks around the other drunks around the area, most poverty stricken and saddened with some sort of grief of one type or another

It wasn't until a group of poets wandered into his dark corner of the pub that he started to considered writing

Obviously nothing anyone would ever read, he'd ensure that. Every scroll or parchment that he'd touch with a quill would be burnt with hellfire before it left his sight

But, as many of his worst ideas started, he had nothing better to do and too much time to think

So he wrote. He wrote letters, first addressed to nobody, about random thoughts that would pop into his very intoxicated brain. Whether humans would ever find traces of the unicorns they lost on the ark, whether he would ever find a way to count just how many scales he had, whether he would ever reach a point where he didn't have to cover his eyes every day

Slowly, the letters started becoming addressed to 'A'. Whether he was conscious of this or not, he'd never admit.

But he wrote. He wrote to A about Hell, the jobs they required of him, the things they'd have him do. He wrote of the way humans had beaten him to the punch 90% of the time. How they would do things worse than Satan himself could imagine, and they'd never blink an eye while doing it.

He wrote of the way the sun darkened each day that passed without his Angel, the way his wine never seemed to have enough flavor when he was alone.

He wrote of the ways he imagined he could orchestrate an elaborate reunion, a convoluted mess of too much demonic activity in a small area that just happened to have a wonderful new tea, or so he's heard, and wouldn't it be a shame to leave the town without tempting the angel to try it?

He wrote to A about how he was sure he had no heart, no emotions. He was a Demon, for somebody's sake, he certainly had no need for stupid things like that, and so the ache in his corporation's chest when he sees the Angel had to be some sort of malfunction.

Anatural function, surely, that could be fixed with the right amount of aloofness and strong liquor

He wrote of the way the sun always seemed to hit the Angel's hair just right, and Crowley had no faith, he had no God.

But in those moments, with a halo around the angel and that smile aimed towards him, he might consider praying now to a different source altogether, a closer source. One full of life and light and actual proper goodness, not that fake advertised bullshit they plaster on church walls in pretty paintings and sad songs

Crowley wrote for a long while, and found that the writing helped the pain.

Even if only because it brought on memories of Aziraphale, and that was enough to hold him until they met again. It had to be, he had no choice in the matter.

And he wrote so often throughout the ages, and often while he was drunk. And he was so sure, so positive that he had burned every trace of his heart and emotion out of existence.

He had to be. The danger those words could put Aziraphale in was far too great. He couldn't be bothered to care of the danger to himself, but the fact that the very hint of any emotion could come close to hurting his Angel was enough to ensure that they would never come across another being's eyes.

He destroyed every letter and word that described his desire, his pain, his greed. He ripped the words he created out of reality as easily as he had written them. Every time, he burnt the parchment, and every time, it burnt a part of him with it.

And then the Apocalypse had happened. Or, well, didn't happen, he supposed. Really, he wasn't entirely sure if there was a difference.

Because everything had changed, even if the rest of the world hadn't noticed. And he was suddenly allowed to see Aziraphale with no excuse, no half-hearted reasoning behind it. He was allowed to want, and to crave, and he relished it.

And he was allowed to take the angel to museums to watch him fuss over small mistakes humanity had collected throughout the ages

Until he realized that they had, in fact, also collected HIS mistakes.

In a hall. A whole bloody hall. A hall, dedicated to and full of stupid parchment and sappy letters and wine stains over words written so long ago

And honestly who gave them the right? Leave it to the humans to collect other people's belongings and put it on display as their own

And he knew, from the moment Aziraphale read the first page on display, he just knew. This was it. All of it was ruined.

All because Crowley had gotten so drunk and passed out in his room above the pub, and when they'd thrown him out in a drunken stupor, they'd collected his belongings to sell afterwards. And he'd never even realized, so concerned about the next meeting, the arrangement, concerned about anything and everything except the one thing he forgot about and could end them both.

Any moment now, Aziraphale would look up at him, with disgust and confusion and all those emotions that he'd really rather not see on his face, preferably ever, but especially not towards him.

But Aziraphale never looks up. He reads the first page 5, 6, 7 times, being sure to capture every single word. Every wrinkle in the paper, every crease.

Then he moves to the next, and then the next. He repeats this process. Every page, he scours each and every page. Searching and scanning, analyzing every word.

Crowley is frozen at the entrance of the hall, too terrifed to say a word, but too hopeful to leave. He stands there, suddenly feeling the same feeling in his chest that he felt so many years ago, in the corner of the pub, sitting in the dark, wishing for the light that he knew would never come.

He's so panicked, that he doesn't notice Aziraphale finishing the last page, and wiping the tears from his eyes. He startles when he accidentally meets his eyes, and prepares a number of excuses and deflections, all to preserve this shred of peace and safety they had carved out for themselves.

"Angel, I- you really- ngk- humans are so rid- are you hungry? I could eat, I've heard they've got a killer bar around here, and we cou-I can get us there in 10 minutes, ngk actu- scratch that, we could be there in 5, I bet. Museums aren-angel?"

Crowley finds himself stopping the random stream of words coming out of his mouth, when he notices tears in Aziraphale's eyes

"Angel, I-"

That's all Crowley can get out before Aziraphale is walking towards him with a purpose

And suddenly Aziraphale is very close to him

Very very close

And suddenly Aziraphale's lips are on his, and Aziraphale is holding onto Crowley's jacket, and Crowley's hands are just waving in the air back and forth while he processes the last .5 seconds.

By the time he realizes what is actually happening, Aziraphale pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against Crowley's, and laughs.

He laughs. Laughs. Aziraphale is laughing and it's a wonderful, beautiful noise and Crowley doesn't quite understand why, but then he's laughing too and then they are both standing there, arms around each other, laughing and Crowley realizes now that all the words he's written, all the praises he sang of his Aziraphale, the way he wished and prayed for his heart and laugh and love

Not one bit of it is at all comparable to the real thing.

[trikaranos]

TRIKARANOS CHAPTER I: S·T·T·L

TRIKARANOS is a dramatized narrative based on ancient events following Crassus (and Pompey and Caesar) through the years 87-48 BCE. Intended for an adult audience.

⭐ Trikaranos will always be free to read. In the near future, you’ll have the option to support this comic & my ability to spend time making it (I Am Extremely Fucking Broke And Have Bills To Pay etc etc) through Patreon! currently, I have a tip jar!

⭐ There is no set update schedule (chapters vary in length and will be posted as I finish working on them)

⭐ alternative places to read it (coming soon!)

CREDITS all additional art used are in the public domain, and the specific images used are open access, etc

🍊the first collage panel is combination of: Plate 113: Greeks Battling the Trojans (from Ovid's Metamorphoses), Antonio Tempesta / The Trojans pulling the wooden horse into the city, Giulio Bonasone (after Francesco Primaticcio) / Terracotta hydria displaying Achilles waiting to ambush Triolos and Polyxena 🍊the second collage panel is: The Lictors bringing Brutus the bodies of his Sons, Jacques Louis David / the paint over of Brutus executing is own sons is my own work based on the composition of this relief of Brutus and condemning his sons to death. 🍊I also used my own art: a panel from the Prologue, and my own illustration of Brutus with the bodies of his sons

📖 PREVIOUS CHAPTER | START HERE | ToC (under construction!)

UNDER THE CUT creator’s commentary, ancient citations, whatever else seems relevant. ideally, this is optional! you shouldn’t need the citations for it to make sense as it unfolds since it’s a comic and a story first and foremost, but it’s here if you’re curious about something or want to see where the inspiration is coming from!

I'm so fucking normal about Crassus and his family (<<< this is a lie)

Marcus Crassus was the son of a man who had been censor and had enjoyed a triumph; but he was reared in a small house with two brothers. His brothers were married while their parents were still alive, and all shared the same table, which seems to have been the chief reason why Crassus was temperate and moderate in his manner of life. When one of his brothers died, Crassus took the widow to wife, and had his children by her, and in these relations also he lived as well-ordered a life as any Roman.

Plutarch, Crassus

like, it actively fucks me up that this is something that's survived about him for over 2,000 years. they all ate together at the same table. Jesus Christ.

so! Crassus' dad! Publius Licinius Crassus (consul 97) fought on the side of Cn. Octavius (consul 87) in the Bellum Octavianum, and it didn't go great for him.

Crassus: A Political Biography, B.A. Marshall

also. currently, if you look Publius Licinius Crassus up on wikipedia for an overview, his page lists his son (and also my main character for this comic) with the cognomen Dives, which is in-fucking-correct.

Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward

and to circle back to houses and meals shared with family, some citations that made me feel some kind of way when I read them

Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward

finally, there is discourse or whatever on the placement of the sons of Publius Licinius Crassus. Crassus is the baby brother here simply because I'm writing this story and I get to pick the themes, but also because no one has provided a solid enough argument for him being the second eldest son that I'm willing to buy into with enthusiasm, and I'm more inclined towards G. Sampson's conclusion on the matter.

Defeat of Rome: Crassus, Carrhae, and the Invasion of the East, Gareth C. Sampson

and while I'm just kind of talking about stuff that I read that I enjoyed, this article by Martin Stone lives in my head rent free

A Year of One's Own: Dating the Praetorship of Marcus Crassus, Martin Stone

[pucksandpower]

Something’s Fishy

Lando Norris x sushi chef!Reader

Summary: having a boyfriend who refuses to touch seafood is pretty hard when your whole life revolves around it, luckily you have a plan to fix that

You let out a deep sigh as you stare at the frozen fish sticks sitting on the counter. This is not how you imagined your relationship with Lando would be when you decided to become a sushi chef.

You knew he was a picky eater, but you didn’t realize just how deep his aversion to fish went. Still, you’re determined to slowly open his mind, one tiny step at a time.

“Lando, honey, can you come here for a second?” You call out sweetly.

He wanders in, that charming smile crossing his face when he sees you. “What’s up, babe?”

You sidle up close, running your hands slowly up his chest. “I have a little proposition for you,” you say with a flirty lilt.

His eyebrows raise. “Oh really? I’m intrigued …”

“I know you’re not a fan of fish but I was thinking maybe you could try just one teensy little fish stick.” You reach behind you and grab one, holding it up. “I’ll make it worth your while …”

He frowns slightly. “Babe, you know I don’t do fish.”

You pout dramatically. “What if I gave you a nice long kiss afterwards? To get the taste out of your mouth?”

Lando wavers, clearly tempted. “I dunno …”

Time to turn up the charm. You press yourself against him, looking up with wide, pleading eyes. “Pretty please? It would mean so much …” You flutter your eyelashes.

He sighs, a rueful grin on his face. “Fine, one fish stick. But that better be one hell of a kiss!”

You beam, handing him the fish stick. He eyes it dubiously, then takes a small bite. You watch anxiously as he chews slowly, finally swallowing with a grimace.

“There! That wasn’t so bad, was it?” You say brightly.

“I guess not,” he concedes. “Now, I believe you promised me a kiss?”

You grin and throw your arms around him. “With pleasure!” You give him a long, deep kiss, hoping to make him forget all about the fishy taste.

When you finally pull back, he seems mollified. “Not bad, babe. Not bad at all.”

Maybe this won’t be as impossible as you thought. If you can get Lando to eat one measly fish stick, perhaps you can slowly work your way up to actual fish. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

***

It’s been a few weeks since the Great Fish Stick Challenge and you feel like it’s time to try again with Lando. This time, you’re determined to get him to try some actual fish — specifically, a nice salmon fillet.

You’ve marinated the salmon in a delicious teriyaki sauce, knowing the sweetness will help offset the fishy flavor that Lando hates so much. As the fish cooks, the savory aroma fills the kitchen. Lando wanders in, sniffing the air.

“Mmm, something smells good. What’s cooking?”

You give him your most winning smile. “Oh, just whipping up a little something. Why don’t you have a seat?”

He sits at the counter as you plate up the salmon, along with some chicken fried rice — his favorite. You place the dishes down with a flourish.

“Ta-da! Teriyaki salmon!”

Lando eyes the fish warily. “Baaaabe,” he whines. “You know I don’t do fish.”

You come around behind him, massaging his shoulders. “I know, I know. But remember how well you did with the fish stick? I thought maybe we could try again, move up to the next level.” You kiss his neck teasingly.

“Please? For me?” You purr in his ear.

He shivers a little at your touch. “You drive a hard bargain. I guess I can suffer through a bite or two.”

“Yesss!” You cheer, kissing his cheek.

Lando cuts off a small piece of salmon and pops it in his mouth. You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction.

He chews slowly. “Hmm not bad,” he mumbles through the mouthful. “The teriyaki helps.”

You beam. “I’m so proud of you!”

Lando preens a little at the praise. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too cocky — I’m still not sold on this whole fish thing.”

But as you continue to watch him eat, clearing over half his plate, you can’t keep a smug grin off your face. Another victory for you! At this rate, you just may make a fish lover out of Lando yet.

***

This is it — the moment you’ve been waiting for. After the successful salmon dinner, you finally feel ready to tackle the ultimate challenge: getting Lando to try sushi.

You’ve closed the restaurant for the night, so it’s just the two of you. The sushi bar is covered in an array of expertly crafted sashimi, nigiri, and rolls. You’ve prepared Lando’s favorites — cucumber, avocado, tamago. And of course, an assortment of sushi with raw fish.

As Lando walks in, his eyes widen. “Whoa, you really went all out! What’s the special occasion?”

You smile coyly. “I wanted to have a little sushi date night. Just you and me.”

You pat the stool next to you. He sits and you hand him a pair of chopsticks.

Lando eyes the raw fish sushi warily. “You know I’m not gonna eat that, right?”

“Oh ye of little faith,” you tsk. “Haven’t I proved I can get you to try new things?”

You select a tuna nigiri, holding it up enticingly. “I just ask for one little bite. That’s all.”

Lando wavers. You up the ante, leaning in close.

“I promise to make it worth your while later …” you whisper suggestively.

His eyes darken. “Well, when you put it that way …”

Heart pounding, you feed him the nigiri. He chews slowly, contemplatively.

“Huh. It’s … not terrible.”

You want to jump for joy. Instead, you settle for just kissing his cheek. “See? You can handle a little raw fish.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head,” he grumbles, but you can tell he’s pleased.

You spend the rest of the evening feeding each other bites of sushi, laughing together. It’s perfect. And as you gaze lovingly at Lando, you know that somehow, someday, you’ll make a sushi lover of him yet. Patience and persistence are key. But you can be very persuasive when you want to be ...

[just-late-roman-republic-things]

Reasons I love late republican Rome as a story setting:

Old as balls. Ruins on top of ruins. "Why is there a giant black slab in the forum?" we forgot lol

So old that major parts of the city's infrastructure are attributed to dudes who may or may not have actually existed. Some people unironically claim to be descended from gods, while others question if gods even care about humans at all.

Cosmopolitan as fuck. If you want your Parthian protagonist to share an apartment with her Thracian and African buddies, you can do that!

There is no zoning, and tons of people cramped together, which means they can dump their chamber pots onto the head of the senator passing by.

You can chuck famous people and incidents into your story. Or make up new ones! Be weird with it!

These characters are soooo haunted by generational legacies and the weight of cultural expectations. Make them chafe. Make them struggle.

The political competition is so complex and changeable. So many points in time where anything could've happened if luck were slightly different. So many alternate history opportunities.

So much weird and funny shit has been recorded from this time that makes for wonderful novels and in-jokes.

There are also so many problems. Oppression, inequality, political violence, even "background" issues like the sewers breaking down. Storytellers need conflict, and ancient Rome is stuffed with it.

The dramatic irony between the characters' hopes and fears about the future and what we, the audience, know will eventually happen. Or think will happen. If the writer is clever, they can still surprise us.

The intellectual and emotional challenge of getting into the head of someone from a really different culture and time period, and grasping both their humanity and their faults. To expand your empathy, yet also articulate where you disagree, and thus better understand your own values and beliefs.

There's so much that these Romans are learning about the world, so many new objects and ideas, as trade and travel expand. And so much that Romans think they know, but are wrong. So many gaps and unknowns. It's frightening and confusing, but also exciting.

The world feels like it's ending. Everyone will lose someone they love, to war or disease or starvation. But people still love, they still try - and some still try to be good people, in whatever way they know how. Who are you, in your city's darkest hour?

Cannibalism metaphors are fun. 🫀

[eeveebitches]

movie. || Roman Roy || smut

Pairing: Sub!Roman Roy x F!Reader

Summary: Roman wants you to stop watching a movie and pay attention to him, so he goes about it the best way he can think of.

Word count: 1.812

18+ only! More under the cut

Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Sub Roman, oral sex (f receiving) praise kink, coming untouched/in pants

A/n: based on a request i got!! tysm for the inspo :)) my requests are also still open!

_______________________

You're watching a movie when he comes in.

Grin wide, eyes tired and hair messed up beyond relief. He jingles the spare keys you gave him in the air, spotting you on the couch. "Got in with our key," he says matter-of-factly as he throws his shoes off, walking over to you.

Ever since you gave Roman a spare key to your home, he's been visiting you with no warning. It's not the fact that he was growing co-dependent on your time that piqued your interest, though. It's always been how he refers to the key.

He used to just say 'the spare key', clearly tense as he struggled to find comfort in his intrusion. Then it became 'your key', which he said with the tiniest smile. When he started calling it 'my key' you would fight back a grin. He was clearly indulging himself with this.

What the implication of this new 'our key' situation is, you have no idea. Better to keep it unspoken, like you two usually do.

"What're you doing?" You only look away from the screen for a second to watch him walk over to you, before returning your attention to the screen. "Watching a movie," you tell him rather dryly. He lets out a huff, plopping himself next to you on the couch. "Well, I'm here now, so screw your movie." 

His hand shoots to snatch the TV remote away from you, but before he can do so, you yank it away. "The movie is almost done, just watch it with me or something," you mumble out, transfixed on the riveting plot in front of you.

"So what, your shitty B-roll movie trumps quality time with the number one bachelor of America?" You don't even respond this time, you simply keep your eyes on the movie. Roman groans, head dramatically falling back as he stares up into the ceiling. "What am I even supposed to do while you melt your brain with numbing media consumption?"

Again, no reply. Just a meager shrug. 

Roman, at first, wants to glare at you. Maybe smack your arm, then go to your kitchen and purposefully make a shit ton of noise, so you're forced to stand up and pay attention to him. But as he stares at you, he can't help but notice a small amount of red lace peaking from under your sweatpants.

Then a much better idea to get your attention pops up.

Wordlessly, he removes himself from the couch and instead kneels down in front of you, hands awkwardly resting on your thighs as he stares up at you. "Uhh, what're you doing, Romes?"

"G'na eat you out," he plainly tells you, lips twitching up into a smirk. "Roman, have you ever given anyone head?"

He shrugs, hands slowly pulling your sweatpants down. You do wanna finish this movie, but you're also curious to see where this goes, so you help him by slightly lifting yourself up, so he can properly remove them. "No, but I'm like Leonardo Davinci, naturally talented and amazingly hot. I can do this easily," he states with confidence that is clearly a facade.

Roman's pupils are dilated as he stares at your lacy red panties. His hands shake as he pushes your legs apart, giving him better access. You hum with intrigue, giving his hair a quick pet before yet again focusing yourself on the movie. "Whatever you say, Davinci."

You weren't expecting him to start out with a kiss atop of your underwear. It's awkward, yet sweet, which you reward with another stroke of his hair. The air is tense as he slowly moves your panties to the side, and ever-so-slowly, he dips in.

With a sharpened tongue he experimentally licks the inside of your folds. You shiver at the sensation, keeping your hand casually rested on his head. For a moment there's nothing, before Roman's head turns up to look at you.

You flush at the sight of him looking up from you like that, eyes wide and unknowing as he's kneeling in between your thighs. His obedience is like second nature to him, and in moments like these you revel in it.

"Can you, like, give me a tiny hint on what to do? Or else I'm just gonna bite your clit off," he huffs, face already reddened.

"Try flattening your tongue a bit, for one. Just take your time, Romes."

And that he does.

Carefully, he laps at your folds. Places his hands back on your thighs, keeping them open as his eyes flutter shut. Just as suddenly as he got on his knees for you, he places his entire mouth on you, roughly sucking on your cunt. You gasp at the sensation, hand clutching at his hair as he suctions onto you.

The groan he lets out as he tastes you is guttural, like he was a man starved and you were his last supper. As he removes himself from you with a sinful 'pop', he lets out an airy laugh. "Jesus, this is, uh... fuck," he whispers out before delving right back in, madly licking and sucking wherever he can reach.

He can't stop himself from letting one of his hands drop from your thighs, using it to palm at his growing hardness. "Shit Romes, you're doing good," you groan, struggling to pay attention to the movie when Roman's tongue is a single movement away from circling your clit.

"Only f'r you," he desperately gasps out, only taking a second to get air back before focusing his full attention on the small bundle of nerves he's finally located. He isn't as hesitant as you would've thought he'd be-- he wastes no time roughly sucking on your clit, shamelessly moaning as he feels you twitch and writhe from his touch.

"Fuck, you're doing so good baby, keep doing that." You grab a handful of his hair and forcefully pull him closer. He moans pathetically at the movement, at the way he's suffocating in your juices. 

The wet noises he's making are absolutely sinful, and if it wasn't for his relentless mouth you would've joked about his eating manners. His mouth and nose are shiny with your wetness, and he pays it no mind, drilling his tongue inside of you without a care in the world. "W'na please you," he moans against you, his own hips stuttering as he stops palming himself, cock painfully restrained in his dress pants.

"You're such a good boy for me, Roman, you're doing so fucking good." His eyes screw shut as he groans against your clit, the vibrations leaving you to gasp for air. It's all just too much, the pleasure combined with the desperate noises he's letting out sending you into cloud nine.

He whines at your every noise and your every word. It's like his heart is going to burst out of his chest, and when you yank at his hair he can't hold himself back. With a muffled groan he releases his load, only slightly faltering in his pace before continuing to practically torture your pussy.

"My sweet pup, eating me out so well, so proud of you," you moan with a fistful of his hair in your hand, only half-aware of Roman's own predicament. Your words of praise alone are overstimulating, but he can't stop himself from lapping up your juices.

He pulls away for a moment, gasping for air as he looks at you, face glistening.  "You're so fucking wet, I just w'na live here," he groans out, before roughly sucking on your clit.

You don't know if it's the hungry moans he keeps letting out or the blinding pleasure he's giving you that pushes you over the edge. Thousands of blinding white stars cover your vision as your entire body stiffens, a gargled moan escaping your throat as you push Roman's entire face into you one last time. 

He moans against your slick cunt, weakly lapping at you as you slowly come down. Even when you whine at the overstimulation of it all, he keeps at it, tongue busying itself with cleaning you up. For a moment you think you can even hear him gulp, whining as you try to pry him off of you.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, carrying a serene expression. With lidded eyes he looks up at you, and the question he asks almost makes you cum again on the spot.

"Did I do good for you?"

You let out an airy chuckle. "Yeah, you did."

Roman groans as he stands up, and only now you see the dark stain at the front of his pants. "Oh my god, did you?--"

"Shut up, yes." You giggle as he awkwardly stands up to place a small kiss on your lips. Your hand shoots to grab the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and you hum as you taste yourself on his tongue. He moans into your mouth, a sound you happily swallow before pulling away. "You did very good, Roman. Didn't realize you're a total perv for giving oral," you hum out as he waddles yo your bathroom. 

"And I didn't realize you were a total slut for it," he retorts, keeping the bathroom door open as you hear him shuffling out of his pants. "Where's my shit?" 

You pull your panties up, but simply remove your sweatpants, before walking over to your bedroom and quickly fishing out a fresh pair of pants, a shirt and some boxers for him. The amount of times he's made someone drop off fresh clothes for him to your apartment has caused an influx of items for him to wear when he's with you.

With a light grin you walk towards the bathroom, handing Roman his things as you sit on the closed toilet seat. "I'm happy you were able to enjoy yourself, too."

Roman shrugs. "Yeah, I mean, I ruined my fucking pants, but it was also fucking hot." 

"You win some, you lose some," you hum as you watch him remove his blouse and replace it with the shirt. "You should definitely let me do that again, by the way. Just-- ask whenever you want a real man to make you cum," he mumbles out, avoiding the eye contact you're trying to make with the mirror he's in front of. 

"You're just saying that because you're a total pussy-loving freak, aren't you?" He groans at your words as he finishes dressing himself, walking out of the bathroom with you in tow. You chuckle at the TV-- the credits are rolling. "Can you please not say kinky shit to me, my dick is in recovery mode right now, thanks."

The two of you plop onto the couch, legs tangling as you grab the remote and put on a show the two of you usually watch together. "Seriously though," Roman suddenly pipes up,

"you taste really good."

[somewhereincairparavel]

🐚 Daughter of Neptune headcanons list 🌊 part one..

Note: I've never done a pjo hcs post like this with the aesthetic pictures and everything- but I've been Itching to make a daughter of Neptune one, since I consider myself as a Neptune child. So this is sort of a self insert haha, and I thought it'd fun cuz I have so many hcs abt this, I've only over seen ppl do a daughter of Poseidon one.

Also this one has reader x Jason Grace as romantic pairings, but it isn't the main focus. Like I said, this is a self insert, and I love my bb jason ;) + imagine having Percy as a big brother, goals fr

• Okay so you'd come to Camp Jupiter at the age of 8-9, so you definitely have a considerable amount of childhood before you came to camp. Which only made it harder for you to adapt to the barbaric ways the Roman camp worked.

• Also, Since Neptune was not a very respected Roman god, your arrival was considered bad luck. Octavian made you go through an intense trial (that motherfucker was like 10 years old and an augur, and was already such a bitch lol) + forced a newly elected praetor Reyna (who was also just 10 at the time) to hold a senate meeting before you were even offered a position at camp.

• Neptune is very feared by the romans though, since he represented the harsh brutality of the ocean, so you got the Roman Nico di Angelo treatment from camp. Everyone was scared of you, flinched when you walked passed them. this was to your advantage tho, since you never got bullied, mostly out of fear.

• so Neptune temples in Camp Jupiter are only taken care of by you, if you left for a quest or something then the shrines would be in such a horrible state, bc no one cares enough to offer Neptune anything or even clean up his shrine. You'd do the cleaning and offering.

• and the worst part? Your dad wouldn't even notice you even after your efforts.

• okay, your powers are quite similar to Percy's butt I feel like since Roman/Greek siblings always have powers that compliment eachother, you'd have better control over the earthly side of the domain. Like you can cause longer earthquakes, control seismic waves, and make volcanos erupt + cause bigger avalanches, Stuff like that.

• Your water control was actually a little limited, up until Percy arrived and helped you enhance your powers. And you helped enhance his control over earthquakes, since his earthquakes usually only lasted for a few seconds, his dad is more water dominant. So when you met him, you knew he was a missing puzzle piece in your life. You'd even be able to communicate telepathically to Percy underwater, a power you both never knew you needed.

• Seriously tho it would be hilarious to look at, bc to the others, you both sound like squeaky dolphins but in reality you are just telepathically speaking with one another. The others wouldn't understand, and poor Frank would be so confused as to why you both are making strangled fish noises

Leo would troll you guys so bad for this lol

• your eyes would actually be black. Not blue, not sea green, just black. Your eyes would literally glitter like black obsidian rocks. because Poseidon is the calm side of ocean, hence sea green eyes for Percy, Neptune is the dark and scary side of the ocean, so that's black eyes for you. that difference would clearly reflect in your guys's eye colours AND personality (I'll expand on this more in part 2)

• but your scariness comes with a downside, you had no friends. No friends, except Jason and Reyna. it's just your dad's naturally strict aura surrounding you that makes your overall personality a Lil grumpy and moody tbh. You did have such a resting bitch face that wasn't helping either.

• Jason, being the noble boy he was, knew you were going to be his friend the moment you made a dramatic entrance to camp for the first time, getting scouted by the waves to New Rome. He knew what it was like to have a powerful, scary dad, but he acknowledged and empathized that you had it harder than he did. He was considered a golden boy, while you were considered a scary bad luck charm. But regardless of that, Jason was your first best friend. And eventually, your boyfriend.

• Reyna on the other hand, badly wanted to befriend you because she admired your mental strength, you were 9 years old and you were openly scoffed at by the legionnaires simply because your father was a scary man. Yet you handled it all so well. But she befriended you a little later than Jason did. Since she was so busy, she barely had any time to chat with anyone. You, Jason and Reyna bonded as a trio when you guys had your first quest.

• Reyna secretly shipped you and Jason from the very beginning lol, bc a Jupiter x Neptune union? Y'all were powerful and cute af together. The mutual pining drives her crazy though, like kiss already smh.

• Also, Nicknames! Your nickname was ALWAYS "kelp head" because your hair was wavy and shaped like seaweed lol. As much as you hated to admit it, the name fit a little too well.

• okay enough with the friendship stuff, let's talk about how much that bastard Octavian makes it his mission to make your life a hellhole. It isn't even funny anymore, he hated you from the very beginning. Not only because you were considered bad luck, it's because he envied that you were a direct descendant of such a powerful God, he couldn't even handle Jason's arrival, yours was just the last straw for him. He opposes your opinions in front of the whole senate + prevents you from getting elected as Centurion + attempts to prevent you from going on quests, bc he can't handle someone else taking the glory.

• He was also the reason you were put into the unpopular twelfth legion. The underdog legion. But Jason? That sweetheart made it worth being in the twelfth legion so you weren't complaining tbh.

• honestly? Octavian and you are famous in camp for your bickering though lol it's just always a back and forth between you and him, such burning rivalry and enmity. You LOVED roasting him and you were fucking great at it too. He deserved that for making you go though hell. You'd laugh like a maniac when he trips and he smirks when has the upper hand against you in senate discussions.

• Reyna is the only reason you both didn't beat eachother up at this point tbh

• once, Reyna came running up to you all panicky because Octavian went missing from camp. In response, you beamed and told her that you'd get the balloons ready in the dining hall for a grand celebration. Jason would burst out laughing lol.

• you'd steal his teddy bears and give them to younger campers, asking them to hide it from octavian. So the younger campers absolutely adore you, unlike the older ones.

• you are also quite the rebel in camp, JUST like Octavian predicted you would be, when you first came to camp. It was actually written in his auguries that the new child of Neptune arrival would be always shafting the rules, since the sea can't be controlled. It's in a nature for a Neptune child to walk their own pace (lol have you seen Percy??) That gave another reason for him to hate you.

• Even some of the lares in CJ would call you an abnormal roman bc you never acted like one. You were wild and temperamental.

This rule breaking tendency you had did earn you lots of punishments that included scrubbing the whole camp with a toothbrush. But it was worth it for you. Camp Jupiter sucked. And you were already in trouble, so what's a little more, right?

• you'd sneak out at night to explore New Rome, because again, the Romans had this weird bedtime curfew like. they have rules for every. Fucking. Thing. It pissed you off so bad. They wouldn't even let you explore the city at night? They were seriously wasting the beauty of the city, You'd definitely rope Jason in to break the rules with you. Like don't be such a goody two shoes smh. I feel like that's what attracted him to you in the first place. He's a goody goody boy with such a boring life, youd just make it interesting for him.

• besides, sneaking out is SO much easier when you can fly. So Jason is your personal airplane. The Jason Grace airlines.

• okay so after all your hardwork in the legion, you'd finally get elected to Centurion, after you successfully finished a quest to retrieve a lost Roman artifact, which was formerly Jason's position and he would become a co praetor with Reyna. But you were still very much disrespected in camp tbh, it just became an internalised thing for everyone to hate you at this point, Octavian was also great at putting your reputation under dirt, but you didn't really care anymore.

• now here comes the catch, Jason and you were sort of in a half-pining half-relationship situation, Before that jerk goes missing. because neither of you knew how to confess, and camp was SO strict when it came to relationships for some reason?? Like even dating has to be lowkey.

• you and Jason are totally the grumpy x sunshine trope lol except you're the grumpy, snippy and batshit one and jason is calm, levelheaded and optimistic one.

Perfect balance. Gosh your dynamic would be so cute :(

• you'd just be grumpily stomping around while jason stalks behind you, laughing lightly. You're super short compared to him aswell, so yeah it makes it funnier.

• You were in charge of welcoming Hazel to camp, since Jason and Reyna had some serious meeting stuff about the new prophecy Octavian told them about.

• poor hazel would be scared to death while meeting you, not just bc it's you, it's bc she just came back from the dead, so this is all rlly new for her.

• That's where you met him. Nico di Angelo. You'd bond over your shared mistreatment in camp. So you became homies w him fairly quickly. He saw you as this cool big sister he could have happy meals with talking abt life.

• you would be a little curious when he keeps disappearing off to somewhere tho, you knew he was lying about where he came from.

Okay part 1 of this is done, this was so long lol, part 2 would drop later, that's where you and Percy meet and stuff.

Update: part two is out! https://www.tumblr.com/somewhereinhogsmeade/746489087922520064/daughter-of-neptune-headcanons-list-part-two?source=share

[ufcconor]

Come on, baby

Knox x F!Reader

(Y/n) Brandt has a history with her fathers most trustworthy hit man

SMUT SMUT SMUT

Getting the call from Gerald Brandt was a surprise to say the least. “Knox, I need you!” “What do you need?” Gerald screams into the phone, “Knox, my Idiot son is fucking things up!” “I’ll leave right away.” “And Knox, look after (y/n).” Knox pauses, excitement brewing in him. “You know I will.”

~

I see a man walking down the dock to the shitty houseboat named so cleverly “The Boat”. I sit up from my chair, holding onto my hat in the low wind as the boat rocks in the water. “That’s the new bouncer at the roadhouse Ben keeps going on about?” The smirk grows on my lips. My friend meets my gaze, staring at the man as he steps onto the boat and shamelessly begins to work out in the sun. “He’s hot.” I lean on the railing.

I wave my hand towards him as my boat sails by. “Looking good over there!” He stops mid-sit up and waves with a small smile before continuing his set. My friend scoffed with a smile. “I'm assuming you’re taking a trip down to the bar tonight.” I shrug sitting back in my hair and sipping my margarita. “Might be.”

I walk into the bar and scan the scene. The music is upbeat, and the people seem to be calm… for now at least. I allow my eyes to scan the entire place until I see him. Sitting at the bar, and quietly observing. I walk to him and take the seat directly beside him. I smile at the bartender, “Rum and coke please.”

The man beside me smirks as I mindlessly pat my fingers on the bar looking around. I meet his eyes and drop my jaw dramatically. “Well, what are the chances? Hey there handsome.” “My name’s Dalton.” I shake his hand, “(y/n). Nice to see you again. Shirt on this time, but we can work on that.”

Night after night I’d go to the roadhouse and sit with Dalton. Flirting and talking, were all fun. When there was an issue he’d get up, handle it with some sarcastic banter and strong punches, and then he’d be back beside me with a cheeky smile as if nothing happened. I like a man who can handle himself. He was a sweet guy to top it off. He definitely shouldn’t be the one to be here taking care of this matter. He shouldn’t have to be the one to deal with my idiot brother and his schemes.

~

I put six sandwiches on a plate and exit the home to the back patio. “Sandwiches are on the bar!” I yell to the boys as I sit down in a chair, opening my book. Not long after I gained inner peace, a loud collision struck right in front of the house. I tear my shades off as a figure enters. “Who the fuck put those bikes in my way?” I watch as Knox strolls in. “Who the fuck are you?” Clyde asks. Knox raises his hand to his face, “Shh.”

He walks to the bar and praises the leftover sandwiches. “Thank you, God. Sandwiches. I’m fucking famished.” He bites into the bread with a growl.

This can not be happening. I was set on the fact that I would not have to see this asshole ever again. The memories flash so quickly. A day full of shopping. The 4 bottles of wine at the most expensive restaurant in Rome. Romantic walks down the streets. Long nights full of him showering me with endless pleasure.

Moe bursts in quickly, “He knocked all the fucking bikes over!” I roll my eyes going back to my book. I’d rather not be involved in whatever the hell he’s doing. I turn the page in my book trying to focus on the words cascading down the page but I can feel his eyes burning onto my frame. Clyde towers over him. “Now you got a big ass problem, bucko.”

Knox nods, mouth full, “No shit! First off, I’m going to need more than 3 sandwiches.”

“I wasn’t done talking.” Clyde cuts Knox off.

Knox glares at Clyde, meeting his gaze with power. “Actually, that’s where you’re wrong, lad.” He pushes past Clyde and nears my chair. He stands next to me, looking down at me. I put my book down with a huff. Knox smiles, “What darlin’? Not a word for me? Thought you’d be happy to see me.” I stand up, bumping his arm as I walk past him.

Knox plops down in my seat, lounging back. “Aye, baby. Are you going to make me some more sandwiches or what?” I flip him off as I slam the door shut. “Stupid mother fucking Irish asshole.”

I tear my bathing suit off in a rush. Why the fuck has he come here? Something to do with my father no doubt. I step into the shower trying to calm my nerves, trying to burn out the heat that ignites in my core. He always had this effect on me. I can't help but remember the night.

I lay back on the couch, my dress hugged my body tightly. Knox saunters over with another glass of wine for me. “Mhh thank you,” I mumble out. He takes a seat next to me. I lay my legs over his thighs, beginning to look over his entire frame. He was big (no doubt everywhere). I run my foot over his crotch. He narrows his gaze at me. “Nah, lassie. That’s not in the cards for you.” He grabs my ankles putting my motions to a stop. I sigh before standing, rolling the wine into my glass. “I thought you were fun.” I lean down to my phone, putting some music on. I sway my hips, my back facing Knox. I down my glass of wine, turning around and arching my back on the wall. His eyes glued to my frame, his orbs burning into mine. I take a step forward, lowering the zipper of my dress with each step. I stand in front of him, zipper completely down, the dress hanging loosely. I lean down, my hands on his shoulders. “Still not in the cards? Even for me?” Knox chuckles, forcing his eye contact to the wall. “You father would have my ass, baby.”

I stand straight again. “Hm, that’s a shame.” I let the straps of the dress off my shoulders, it cascades down to the marble floor delicately. Only clad in my panties and expensive heels I turn away from him, leaving the dress at his feet.

“Fuckin hell.” He mumbles.

Before I know it I’m tossed onto the bed and Knox is kissing up my body and pampering my exposed breast with kisses and bites.

Soon his fingers pumping deliciously in and out of my heat. I arch up with a loud cry as an orgasm races through me. “There's a good girl."

I splash water onto my face. I can’t allow myself to get tangled in with him again. There’s nothing there but an empty promise. I know the bed will be cold by morning.

I step out of the shower and dry my body with the towel before hanging said towel up on the door. I bent over, flipping my head over to start drying my wet hair.

“I always did adore this side of you, love.”

I shoot up and turn around. “What the fuck!” I snatch my towel off the door and hold it up in front of me. “Get out!” He doesn’t. Instead, he walks closer causing me to back up until I hit the countertop. He places his arms on either side of me, making a chance for an easy escape difficult.

He bites his lip looking at my poorly hidden body. He catches the hem of the towel in his fingers. “Why don’t we catch up?” I look at him with wide eyes and anger boiling in my chest. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Knox sucks in a breath. “Now listen, I know how it looked back then.” I scoff and push him away. He doesn’t fight me and allows me to pass. “Hate to see you go, but I love seeing you walk away, baby.” I enter my bedroom and with one last glance at Knox, I slam the door shut.

~

Ben walks into the back patio and sees Knox sitting in a tanning chair, eating a plate of sandwiches. “I’m sorry, who the fuck are you?” Knox nods, “Hey. I got a message for you. From your father.” He stands facing Ben.

Bem furrows his brow, “A message? My father? And what… What is this “message”?” Knox pops Ben in the nose quickly before tossing his arm over his shoulders. “You’re Ben, right? Jerry’s son?” He chuckles removing himself. Knox admires the house. He points to the pool shed. “This is where I’ll store my stuff. And that master bedroom up there is mine. Move your sister's shit in with mine. You can take her room.” Ben shakes his head, confusion clouds his mind. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”

Knox grabs a golf club. “Your dad says you’ve been fucking things up.” He turns to Ben, who backs away. “He asked me to lend a hand.”

Ben scoffs, “How would my father know? He’s in a prison, rotting in a cell.” “Don’t be silly. Your father has spies everywhere.”

“Well, you can tell my father…” Ben starts but gets cut off by his sister (y/n) coming out. “Where are you going?” She rolls her eyes. “Why do you care?” She takes a step and Ben grabs her arm. Knox straightens up, anger brewing within him. No one gets to touch her.

“Is it the road house? To see your little boyfriend?” (Y/n) rips his arm off, “Believe it or not but I’m actually likable unlike you.” She walks off. “Don’t go to that fucking bar, (y/n)!” She turns around with a smirk. “Or what?” Knox watches her such as predator watches their prey. Fire brewed within his chest at the thought of some other man touching her, touching what he had claimed.

Ben runs his fingers through his hair, frustration existing on his face. “She’s such a pain in my ass.” He turns back to Knox. “I don’t need your fuckin’ help. I have it all under control.”

“No, you don’t.” Knox swings the club, making Ben back away again. “Yes, I have people out there right now… cleaning up this final issue, and that’s all…” Knox ignored Ben’s confident plan. “So, where’s this bouncer asshole?”

~

I enter the road house and move to the corner expecting to see Dalton but to my surprise, he’s nowhere in sight. Laura slides my drink over. “He’s late.” I furrow my brow. “That’s a first.”

An hour later Dalton comes in looking a little disheveled. He sits beside me taking a breath. “Hey.” “Hey, what’s going on?” He shakes his head. “Had a little mix-up with the sheriff.” I cringe internally, “A mix-up?” My brothers doing. Laura leans over conserved. “What are we talkin’ about?”

A surprising guest speaks a few seats away. “Yeah, what are we talking about?” Ben walks over, taking the seat next to me. “Hey, sis. Thought I told you to stay home.” Ben averts his attention from me. “I’m curious to hear what you were gonna tell her, Dalton. I’m Ben Brandt. (Y/n)‘s brother.”

Dalton smirks, “Let me guess. It’s your turn now.” “My turn?” “You know, to threaten me. Tell me to get out of town. Like your buddy, Big Dick.” Ben chuckled. “No. No, I get the impression that you can’t be threatened.

I wish you could be, but… I’d even bribe you if I thought money would work.” Dalton nods, “Really? How much we talking?”

“Ben, can you just fuck off?” He turns to me, anger in his eyes. “(Y/n) doesn’t it make you curious what an outsider like him… thinks he’s doing here.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t know, Ben. Nor do I care. Just get the fuck out of here.”

Ben ignores me again. “So, I guess my question is… Why? Right? It can’t be just some competitive thing, you…you’ve won the fight. You can back off now. But you… you don’t. You just keep… punching and punching and punching. So, why? Why don’t you just stop?” Dalton stays silent causing Ben to exit like a toddler, anger blowing from his ears.

Dalton raises a brow. “Your brother, huh?” “I like to think I’m adopted.” The door opens and Knox strolls in with the bikers behind him. I watch as Knox scans the room making eye contact with me.

Knox strolls around, picking at two separate tables. “Hey, fellas. Looks like you’re havin’ a smashing night!” He swings the golf club smashing every bottle and glass off their table. Knox successfully starts the bar fight and chaos consumes the entire building.

“Dalton! Dalton! Dalton!” Knox screams as he scans the room. I stand up and walk towards him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Knox chuckled, lowering his head, our noses brushing. “A lot of shit. You wanna try to fix me?” His smirk grows.

“Dalton! Dalton!” On-demand, Dalton yells from the top of the steps. “What?” Knox looks over him as if inspecting. He tosses his head back. “This is the guy?” He asks me, I can see jealousy glowing in his eyes. “Leave him alone, Knox.”

He points to Dalton. “You know, I got sent here special. Just for you.” Dalton stays calm, taking a glance around the chaotic scene. “And you brought all your friends with you?” “I thought you might miss havin’ an audience. I was trying to be thoughtful. Like on pay-per-view. 25 quid. Watch me pulp your face!” Panic pumps through my veins. “You can’t fucking do this, Knox.”

Dalton stands a few feet away now. “You know this guy too?” Knox smirks and looks at me, waiting for my answer. “He’s my father’s employee.” Knox places his hand on his chest, acting like his feelings are damaged. “Aww come on, baby. Don’t be like that.“ He takes my chin between his fingers, his face inches from mine. “How do I know that you squeal when having your pussy eaten just, hm? Right here.” Knox sticks his hand down to my clothed crotch and pats my pelvic bone lightly. I gasp and move away from him. The act so bold in a public setting had my cheeks glowing red and a pool between my legs.

Dalton grabs Knox and shoves it away. “Don’t touch her, man.” Knox smiles at Dalton. “Nah, mate. You don’t get to touch her! SHE’S MINE!” Knox swings his club at Dalton hitting him in the stomach, before punching him and starting a brawl between the two.

I follow some of the bikers outside as they file out. “What the fuck was that?” I scream at Dell. “Stop it, (y/n). You know Brandt wants the road house.” I roll my eyes, “a shitty bar? For real?” I turn on my heel to walk back into the bar, but Knox catches my upper arm and pulls me to his car. “Let go of me, Knox.” He opened the passenger door and oh so helpfully assisted me in. “You and me. We’re going to have a little chit-chat.” He fumes. He’s angry. He flies off, tearing up gravel as he speeds out of the lot. He maneuvers through traffic, passing cars at high speed. “If you slow down we won’t live long enough to talk,” Knox smirks at me. “Ah baby, I’ve missed that smart mouth of yours, truly.”

Knox drifts into a lonely dock and slams the door as he gets out. “Let’s go.” Knox strips his shirt and shoes. I step out and lean against the front of the car, the sand damp on my feet.

Knox shakes his finger at me. “This ain’t you. Where’d my girl go?” I glare at him, “Maybe she’s back in Rome where you ditched her two years ago.” Knox, only a couple feet away smiles again. “All that? Baby you know your father had me running around for him.” “You left me alone with no explanation. You dipped that morning and never spoke to me again.” Knox nods, “Yeah, I did. That’s what your father told me to do.” “Yeah, and you always do what he says huh? Like a dog.”

Knox drops his smile. “And what have you been doing? You used to listen like a good girl. Now look at ya. Fucking around with these assholes.”

“Better than you.”

Knox grabs my arm pulling me to him. “Aww, now I see it. You’ve not been fucked real good in a long time. That it?” I raise my hand and slap him across the face. He pauses for a moment before a dark smirk grows across his lips. “There’s my tiger.”

Fuck it. This is toxic as hell.

I wrap my arms around his broad body, attacking his mouth. He holds me up, holding our bodies as close as possible. Our tongues battling, the passion seeping from each other's mouths. The clawing and scratching of our hands. He kisses down my neck, running his tongue over my collarbones. The hot breeze sticks to the moist surface. He pushes me back onto the hood of the car. “I’m going to fuck the brat out of you, but first…” he flips the hem of my dress over my thighs, and separates them. “I need to taste ya.”

He kisses the soft skin of my inner thighs. A drunken state unraveled within me. Knox pulls my panties down, taking a look at my private. He nestled between my thighs, "Such a pretty cunt. How did I ever let you out of my sight?" The praises leaving his mouth caused me to gasp. I am unable to speak, unable to ask if he wanted to do this out here, on the beach, given any surprise visitor. All I could do was moan and arch my back onto the cold surface of the car. My heart was racing, blood rushing, toes being forced to curl.

His tongue brushed through my folds, collecting drops of the hot arousal. He moaned against my cunt, sucked on the pulsing bundle of nerves. “Knox," the call of his name made him chuckle against my skin. I had never known such pleasures besides him. I was already close to letting go, his mouth latching onto my clit, once again leaving me to arch her back off the hood. "Let go for me, darling."

With another breathy moan, I release, eyes rolling back into my head, fingernails about to claw stripes into the pain of the car. He lazily licked my slit for a few more seconds before he pulled away, moving up her body to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Knox, fuck me please," I whined, looking into his eyes, pleading. He smiled and followed my order within seconds.

My legs lay wide open for him to enter and while his hands hold my waist tightly. He shoved himself up my pussy with such an ease.

"You feel perfect, angel. Nothing changed." he moaned, his moves quickened fast. Noises of skin slapping against skin filled the area. "So fucking good" Knox panted in between harsh thrusts. My lower body just perfectly crashed together with his. I was in heaven as I felt myself coming closer and closer to my end. "I'm gonna cum." | whimpered so quietly that he could barely hear it. “You're the only man who can make me feel this good,” I whined, I was all his.

His movements grew slower, and he heavily breathed into my face. “You’re mine, (y/n).” I was so close, my body was burning. I nod breathlessly, “I’m all yours.” Waves of an orgasm beautifully crashed in, and it was only a matter of seconds before I would cum.

"Good girl." Knox panted and I knew he was about to cum. His hand wandered to my clit and circled it at a fast, pleasuring pace. That was it. I felt my orgasm finally coming in and I let out a loud moan. Knox growled into my neck and bit into my shoulder as he came right after me, releasing all of his warm cum inside me. He kept moaning and growling into my skin, both of us exhausted and in a blissful state. His body was limp on mine.

We laughed into each other's faces and after a moment of silence and just looked at each other. He moved over to his car, retrieving a blanket. “What are you doing?” I ask still lying in bliss. He spread the blanket on the sand. “A night under the stars. What do ya say, lass?” He picks me up and lays us down on the soft blanket. His hands went over my back, and it sent shivers down my spine. In this moment the world was perfect.

[brother-emperors]

a bystander: both of you are focusing on the wrong thing

anyway! this is a comic from the vault™! it was originally something goofy I drew for myself after I read a couple of different takes on this whole event (Crassus leaving Rome in 63 BCE, see Plutarch Pompey 43). like.

the phrasing is giving late night teleserye plot drama.

and this literally sounds like something a friend has told me about someone else's relationship drama with their sometimes ex. but like. on a less high stakes stage.

ALRIGHT, moving on. some stuff that was Fun To Read, To Me

Crassus' New Friends and Pompey's Return, Eve J Parrish

Crassus: a Political Biography, B.A. Marshall

speaking of titles, fascinated by how this part of crassus' life gets defined by pompey's absence/return. hello fellas!

AND FINALLY inspiration for Pompey's comment about perpetuating cycles of violence comes from this delightfully dramatic bit of writing

Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward

bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost

[aziraphales-library]

hello! i read a work from your recommendation list, the "Heaven and Hell share a corporate party once per millennium. This time someone's had the bright idea of issuing a challenge to the demons of Hell. Crowley has no intention of missing the opportunity; Aziraphale's just enough of a bastard to make him work for it." and i really enjoyed it. it has me wanting for more of scenarios where they like have to flirt for whatever reason or crowley attempting to (preferably shamelessly and obnoxiously) seduce aziraphale. thanks in advance!

Here are some fics in which Crowley seduces Aziraphale...

To Woo an Angel by AgentStannerShipper (G)

5 times Crowley tried to "seduce" Aziraphale, and 1 time he realized there was no need.

nothing else matters like us by Melacka (T)

The order came through on an otherwise dull Sunday afternoon in 2004. Crowley had just returned from a spot of low-level tempting in the south of London and was just contemplating an appropriate excuse to stop by at Aziraphale’s bookshop when the message arrived. It was pushed under the door by a courier so steeped in terror that Crowley could sense it from the other side of the flat. With some considerable annoyance, Crowley fetched the envelope and eased the note out, reading it quickly with a frown deepening on his face. Seduce the Angel Aziraphale. Failure will not be tolerated.

How I'm Imagining You by orphan_account (M)

Crowley gets up, walking slowly over to the bar. An onlooker might be struck by the stalking and languid ease with which he walks, like a lioness to her prey. His hips, so smooth and slow. And he tilts his head back, lips parted. Surveys the room and the man with covered eyes. But there is no one looking at him. Every other patron doesn’t need to look at the bar at this moment, look at the man and the prey. So, they don’t. - (Crowley has fun with a little temptation of his own)

shades of grey by IneffableStar (E)

After Aziraphale's West End debut was nearly ruined by Furfur's espionage attempt, Aziraphale gets to thinking about if Heaven may also be watching them, and decides it best that he go search for any evidence against them. Crowley will only allow Aziraphale to go on one condition: Crowley comes along. or Crowley accompanies Aziraphale on a trip upstairs, but he has entirely ulterior motives.

It's your job by falsepremise (E)

After a night sucking oysters with Aziraphale, Crowley just can’t sleep. Perhaps he should hang around in Rome a little longer... After all, tempting a certain angel is his job, isn’t it?

Gormless Seduction by munchmulch (T)

Crowley grimaces. "Nhnnnnggg, ok, alright. But, hear me out." They flick a hand dramatically. "An angel! A being who can make Holy water! Even if I can keep the whole human disguise thing up, what if they, I don't know . . . want me baptised?" Dagon stares at Crowley blankly for a second before handing them the assignment kit. "You’ll start tomorrow. The address is highlighted, if you get lost and have to call me for directions I will direct you through at least three traffic jams."

And the one you mentioned that everyone knows and loves...

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan (E)

"All right, I know I'm going to regret asking this," Aziraphale says. "What exactly does this wager entail?" Crowley grins like the cat that not only got the cream but has absconded with the entire cow. He grabs the bottle and swigs straight from it despite Aziraphale's tut of disapproval.  "The pot goes to whichever demon can get an angel into bed by the end of the evening."  AKA The Fic That Tumblr Made Me Write. Heaven and Hell share a corporate party once per millennium. This time someone's had the bright idea of issuing a challenge to the demons of Hell. Crowley has no intention of missing the opportunity; Aziraphale's just enough of a bastard to make him work for it.

- Mod D