#roman godfrey x ofc

[bill-skarsgalactic]

A/N: So, it's been a while since I've written anything, but I've had this concept rattling around in my brain for a few years and figured there's no time like the present to jump back into writing and posting regularly. If you've been tagged in this it's because a couple of you expressed interest in a previous post of mine - you're not obligated to read it (obviously) but if you do, your feedback would be appreciated. As I said before, it's been a while since I've written anything, so keep in mind I'm a little rusty. Apologies if the first part is a bit bland, I'm mainly just setting up the world and the characters.

P.S: If you interacted with my last post but weren't tagged, its simply because Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you :(

Description: Searching for a fresh start in the small beach town of Hemlock Cove, a young nurse takes a job caring for the recently paralyzed and exceptionally bitter Roman Godfrey.

(This takes place after the events of Hemlock Grove season 3, except Roman did not die and was instead paralyzed after his altercation with Peter. I'm not going to touch on much of the Hemlock Grove storyline and will instead be focusing on making this a standalone story)

Pairing: Roman Godfrey x OFC

Warnings: None for this part, but will update as the story progresses.

P A R T I

Hemlock Cove was meant to be a fresh start, a new life in a quaint sea-side town seemed like the perfect remedy to an aching head and a bitter heart.

I naively hoped the saline sea air would cleanse my hidden wounds, disinfect them until the scars healed pink and became nothing more than memories wrapped in scar tissue.

However, as I stood at the edge of the beach watching the black waves roll violently beneath the murky clouds, pregnant with the promise of rain, nothing about the briny ocean breeze felt healing. The air felt thick, weighed down and tasted acrid on my tongue as I inhaled deeply. I swallowed against the offending taste and cleared my throat, willing away the nausea that had accompanied it, before turning my back on the mercurial sea.

Weeks prior when I had conjured up images of what I imagined my new home to look like, I'd expected something vastly different to the gloomy wasteland that greeted me now. A quick Google search had described Hemlock Cove as a small, sea-side town, its cobbled main road dotted with colorful ice cream shops, humble beachwear boutiques and charming vintage stores, however, as I quietly surveyed my surroundings, it was not quite the fairytale beach town I had been promised. As it stood, Hemlock Cove was merely a carcass of what it must have once been, a ghost town filtered in gray-scale with an underlying tone of despair on its breath. If the vibrant ice cream shops and vintage stores filled to the brim with the nick-knacks of yesteryear had ever existed, they were replaced now with drab, sun-faded replicas of their former selves, their contents barely visible behind foggy, glass storefronts. Looking at it now, it was a wonder how the town managed to stay afloat.

A low rumble of distant thunder suddenly pulled me from my thoughts, and I cast a wary look over my shoulder at the looming, gray clouds on the horizon.

Time to go. A storm was approaching and I had no intention of being caught in it.

With my mood as damp as the impending weather, I adjusted the strap of my duffel bag on my shoulder and began the trek up the cobbled street towards number eighty-one Foxglove Lane.

As I trudged up the hill towards my destination, the town of Hemlock Cove appeared to be seeking my forgiveness. As though ashamed of its first impression, the formerly dreary facade of the town below began to slowly give way to lush greenery and between the beach cottages and holiday homes, tufts of brightly colored wildflowers sprung up, their stems waving gently in the breeze. The distant crash of the ocean was muffled now, obscured by evergreens and the ocean itself was now only visible in gaps between the branches and leaves that lined the road. Further up the hill, the more modest cottages became few and far between, suddenly replaced by more modern, stately homes that looked like they'd be better suited to the upper suburb of neighboring Hemlock Grove, here they just looked out of place.

Stopping to stare at one particular monstrosity, my brow creased as I took in the frankly odd design choices. While most of the houses in Hemlock Cove opted for more classic earth-tones and rustic stone walls, this one was painted a deep shade of charcoal. Everything about it was a grotesque display of modern hubris, all harsh lines and sharp angles, not even the kiss of natural, black walnut finishes were enough to save the home from looking alien amongst its counterparts. I couldn't help but roll my eyes, chuckling at the thought of the field day a psychologist might have with the eyesore before me, but my chuckle was cut short as my eyes landed on the metallic, black numbers fixed to the wall beside the front door: eighty-one. Eighty-one Foxglove Lane to be exact, my new home for the foreseeable future.

When I'd first scoped out nursing jobs in Hemlock Cove, the owner of eighty-one Foxglove Lane was the only one that came up, and while details of his condition were vague at best, the job listing described the client as a 27-year-old male, who had been paralyzed six months prior. The position itself required someone with nursing experience, who could stay on the property and see to the client's needs, as well as handle day-to-day chores - a relatively simple task considering food and accommodation came tacked onto a relatively decent salary. However, other than what had been detailed in the job listing, I knew little to nothing about my client... other than his inclination to have his home scream of its own spectacular opulence.

As if only to impress on me the wealth of my new employer, a large, black Mercedes Benz minivan say at the end of the stone driveway, which I skirted around gingerly, careful not to mar the pristine paint job as I made my way towards the path leading to the front door.

Swallowing a new set of nerves that had made their home in my throat, I gripped the strap of my duffel with one hand and rapped succinctly on the door with my other hand, hoping my knock would sound more confident than I felt.

Silence followed for what felt like an eternity, there was no jingle of keys in the lock of shuffling from beyond the threshold, just the crash of waves beyond the tree line and the occasional chirp of a sandpiper. Just as I was considering knocking again, a voice from inside stopped me before I could even raise my hand.

"Come around the side. Sliding door's unlocked."

The voice was that of a young man, I assumed my client, but it was neither friendly nor welcoming, in fact "irritated" was the first word that sprung to mind, and the misanthropic timbre of his voice turned my stomach to knots in its wake.

Unsure of the appropriate response, I settled for a shaky "Uh, th-thank you!", as my eyes wandered up the side of the house, my irises mapping a mental path to where I assumed the sliding door might be. After only a short amount of bush-whacking my calculations turned out to be correct, as I emerged from the foliage and found myself at the foot of a small set of steps leading to a wooden deck that overlooked the beach.

The view from the deck was magnificent and the house stood no further than 50 feet from the beach itself. Standing on that deck overlooking the vast expanse of ocean, the water churning beneath the ever darkening sky, it was hard not to feel like Poseidon himself at the helm of his war ship.

I could have stood on that deck for hours watching the waves crash and churn, but I was hesitant to annoy my client any more than he already seemed to be, so I turned and made my way over to the sliding door, easing it open gently as I reached it.

The curtains were drawn across four of the six glass doors, leaving only a small gap for me to enter through, and as I did, I stepped through into what appeared to be an open-plan living room.

Although I could not fathom why anyone would be inclined to rob themselves of the spectacular view just beyond the glass doors, I couldn't deny the living room was cozy. A small banker's lamp in the corner of the room enveloped the stony, suede couches and raw wood furnishings in a warm, orange glow, giving the room a homely feel. Most modern homes felt cold and unlived-in, but not this one. After a five-hour-long bus journey and an uphill climb, my aching body longed to curl up amongst the scatter cushions and thick, woolen throws that adorned the couch, and fall into a sleep as deep as the murky waters of Hemlock Cove.

A soft, electrical whirring suddenly disturbed the silence of the living room, and I looked up just in time to see a figure appear in the doorway to my right.

Despite the half-light cast from the lamp in the living room, the man in the doorway was somewhat visible to me. In fact, the shadows cast by the small banker's lamp only aided in highlighting his perfectly straight nose and high cheekbones. His thick, brown hair had been pushed back from his brow in a way that looked effortless, as though he'd haphazardly run his hands through it, only for it to settle perfectly. I'd have dared to call him handsome were it not for the look of absolute disdain on his face as he regarded me.

I shuffled uncomfortably before speaking.

"Uh- hi, I'm Faryn Freeman, we-"

"I know who you are," he cut in harshly.

His wheelchair whirred to life again and he backed out of the doorway, leaving me alone in the living room once more.

I guess he wanted me to follow him, so I did just that. Weaving between the couch and the coffee table, I cut across the lounge and towards the room he had disappeared into.

When I stepped inside, I realized we were in what appeared to be his study, and my client was now sitting behind a large, ornate desk, pouring over a pile of official looking papers, a thick silver pen clutched between his slender fingers.

I lingered awkwardly in the threshold, the strap of my duffel bag growing teeth and biting into my shoulder, as I waited for him to acknowledge me. When he finally did, he didn't bother to look up, his long dark lashes fluttered only slightly as he jerked his pen towards a manila folder perched on the corner of his desk.

"Everything you need to know is in the file, your room is upstairs to the left," he remarked clinically, as he scribbled something indiscernable in the margins of the document in front of him.

I charged forward to retrieve the folder, stumbling slightly as my foot caught the upturned corner of the Persian rug. I cursed myself internally, embarrassed by my behavior. I was no longer the shrinking violet I had been growing up, and even in college, I was a professional, a nurse, over-qualified for the job I'd just undertaken, with years of experience working with men who thought they new more than I did, so why in God's name was I allowing this man and his bad attitude to throw me like this?

The feminist in me begged to put him in his place, but more than that I wanted to be done with this awkward interaction and retreat to my quarters where I could unpack and decompress. A lot had happened in a short space of time and I needed a moment to process it all, so if my new boss had no intention of getting acquainted, then I was more than happy to take the high road and seize a few moments of alone time.

"Well, thanks for this," I smiled politely, pressing the manila folder to my chest, "I'll make sure to familiarize myself with all of this," I assured him, giving the folder an emphatic tap with my index finger.

Again, he didn't look up, it was as if I hadn't spoken, and for a moment, I wondered if he had even heard me. Pursing my lips, I began to slowly back out of the room.

"Okay... well, I'll just head upstairs then," I explained, a little louder this time in case he was hard of hearing, "If you need anything-"

"I'll call," he interrupted, punctuating his statement with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Resisting the urge to bolt from the room, away from my new housemate and the dour energy that hung over him like a storm cloud, I turned fully and exited the study at a leisurely pace until I was out of his line of sight.

The stairs were directly to the right of the study and I took them two at a time, my duffel swinging precariously behind me until I reached the landing.

Unlike the lower level of the house the second floor was lighter, the walls were painted a soft, dove gray and the floor was covered in plush, cream carpeting. Despite the gloomy weather brewing outside, a large skylight above my head illuminated the landing giving it an airy feel that wasn't present downstairs.

I drew what felt like the first real breath of air I'd taken in hours and my lungs filled with the scent of wood polish and carpet shampoo.

At the top of the landing to my right was a dark, wooden door and directly across from where I stood was a small, guest bathroom and from there the hallway snaked to the left. Surely my bedroom was down there.

As I walked, I noticed there were no photos on the walls, no family portraits to liven up the stark landing, only grim, moody artwork. A large floor-to-ceiling oil painting of a snake arched in an almost perfect sphere, its mouth agape as though readying itself to consume its own tail, sat opposite the only other door on the landing: my bedroom.

I shivered involuntarily, my lip curled in distaste and turned away from the offending art piece, opening the door to my bedroom.

Upon stepping inside, I was pleased to see that my client's peculiar art choices did not extend to his guest bedroom. The walls were blank aside from a large mirror, and the room itself consisted of a vanity, a double bed and a sage green armchair in the corner of the room. Ultimately, the room seemed as though it had never been touched.

Grateful to be rid of my luggage, I unceremoniously dumped my duffel at the foot of the bed and flopped down atop the covers, the manila folder still clutched to my chest. Now that I had a few moments to myself, I figured it was about time I found out a little more about my client.

Tag list: @alphabetbill @dani-is-a-princess @rumanceksghost @marvelnatural4life @ambeauty @rosesandthorns @exo-kai15 @angryhippie @perfectlilwitch @4sta @madlilafromwonderland @winterrrsun @manicpixiedreamguurl @spice-honey @batesaccomplice @naturalblondekiller88 @jj-lynn21 @narcobarbiesims @mountainousdinosaur @morbiditty @princehattric @kallikvolturisblog @nutinanutshell @brown-eyedblues @myheartwillgoon2022 @livingonthehems @temporarilylivin @culpers @sophieskarsgard @scuba-seamus @bbyskars

[watchtowerindistress]

Series Masterlist | Tag yourself

A/N: Finally, we're getting to some meat of the story!

Warning: mention of spanking, mention of smut, sexual tension, mention of vaginal fingering (lol, everything's just a mention), language, fluff maybe?

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @devilxangel-blog @liadamerondjarin @andrewswifes-blog @adriennepoison

[artemiseamoon]

Nocturna Sanguine 7

Status: complete

Words: vampire stuff, blood, biting, implied sex 

⚠️warnings: 3,131

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This chapter: We resume where we left off, the brothers, Valentina, and Dahlia are all under one roof and her spell is still in effect. Song Valentina is singing at the beginning; I wanna be evil by Eartha Kitt

Warnings: vampire stuff, sexual themes and language, the guys being held against their will, under magic.

Ivar, Roman

The mist from the smoke machine cast a mysterious cloud across the space. Everyone is in a trance; the only sound is coming from the sultry jazz of the house band. Or the occasional sound of a drink being made.

Valentina's slender fingers curl around the mic as her eyes burn with fire. The lyrics fall like silk from her lips like a seductive purr to awaken the deepest most primal core of everyone listening.

"I wanna be evil, I wanna spit tacks

I wanna be evil, and cheat at jacks

I wanna be wicked, I wanna tell lies

I wanna be mean, and throw mud pies"

Ivar's ice blue eyes remain fixed on her, and only her. His body is angled toward the stage. He's still holding the rim of his glass at his lips. He meant to take a drink minutes ago.

Roman breaks his eyes from the stage first and studies the room. Everyone is hypnotized. And, though he hates to admit it, he is too.

This bitch cursed us.

He wants revenge, but he also wants to fuck her, bad. He's never desired someone so much before, he'd take her right on that stage if he could. Fuck the crowd, they can watch.

At the same time, Roman is trying to convince himself she has no effect on him, none at all. He's not vulnerable to her charms. Ivar is.

No. Roman is fucking angry. And hungry. And needs to shed blood. He is not drooling over this evil witch.  

Still, his lies don't work.

His eyes float back to her. He continues to watch with a hard on as she saunters across the stage. He can still taste her on his lips from their make out and feel her soft skin under his touch.

Every time her hands move up the mic, he imagines them on his cock. The way lyrics roll off her tongue, give him all kinds of dirty ideas about her mouth.

"Fuck." Roman cursed under his breath then tore his eyes away from the stage.

He knows it's bad when he starts biting his thumb. It's a nervous habit he never dropped from childhood. When he breaks skin, from sheer pressure, he sucks the blood then hides his hand under the bar.

No one's looking at him anyway, not that he cares. Well, except for the blue-eyed woman who looks like she wants to kill them. Or fuck them, or both. Roman flashes a smug grin at her, then glances at Ivar.

"The little devil in the black dress, who do you think?" he nudges Ivar when he doesn't get a response. "Her familiar or something? Think they’re fucking?” Roman locks eyes with Dahlia across the room, "shit, I'd love to watch that."

Ivar is silent, eyes still ahead.

“I wanna be nasty, I wanna be cruel

I wanna be daring, I wanna shoot pool"

Roman nudges him again. Ivar finally lowers the cup but doesn't look away from the stage. “What?”

“That little devil over there.” Roman stares at Ivar now, waiting for a response. “I bet we can take them both.”

Ivar doesn't respond.

"I wanna be horrid, I wanna drink booze

And whatever I've got I'm eager to lose

I wanna be evil, little evil me

Just as mean and evil as I can be"

Roman kicks Ivar's foot. "Snap out of it, Ivar."

Irritated, Ivar turns to him, “Fuck, what?”

“Shit! You’re into her.”

Ivar holds his gaze, smirks, then turns back to the stage.

“Shit man,” Roman taps his hand against the counter and looks around, searching the room for something, anything. He's getting antsy again, sitting around on her clock isn't working for him.

I could snatch up the little one. Use that knife she keeps twirling around. Cut her and her blood. Fuck her, then kill her.

Show this Valentina bitch we meant business.

To Roman, Ivar is wasting time. If it was up to Roman, they'd be done with this and out of here already. On the way to the next town with no evil witch vampires and their knife happy lovers in it.

Valentina 

The bartender slides a martini to Valentina.

“You were fantastic tonight, as always.”

Valentina winks at her, then reclines back. Down the bar, at the opposite end, sit the brothers. She makes eye contact with them.

Roman is barely able to sit still. He has a mix of tells, his thumb, jumping his leg, commenting to himself. She's surprised he's managed to stay in his seat for this long. He's like a dog on the leash, ready to attack.

Ivar on the other hand appears calmer. She can feel the hunger and anger from both of them, but something about Ivar is more - contained. She knows Ivar is working his brain, coming up with a way to get her back.

Valentina beckons them over by raising her glass. Roman jumps up first. With his long legs and rushed steps, he reaches her quickly. Ivar is right behind him.

Roman leans into her space and cages her in with one arm as he rests his hand on the counter.

“You think this shit is funny?” he asked aggressively.

Valentina only grins at him, takes a sip of her drink, then gazes at Ivar. She takes him in, head to toe.

She teases her lips with the rim of the glass, eyes locked on Ivars, “He’s got a temper huh?"

Ivar closes in, limiting her personal space even more as he stands on the other side of her.

“Now that you’ve had your fun with us, Valentina. What are your plans?”

She finishes the rest of her drink and stands. “That’s something we discuss in private.”

Roman grabs her left arm, jerking her against him. Her eyes lose their warmth and grow dark as she stares at him.

"You like to play rough, don't you Roman." She hisses.

Ivar steps in. He pulls Roman's hand away from her arm. Then, turns to Valentina, “What are we waiting for then?”

Valentina inclines her body toward Ivar, close enough to brush her nose against his,

“The voice of reason, yet, I taste your chaos too,” she runs the nail of her index finger down his cheek, “I don’t know who is worst, you or him” Her eyes jump to Roman, “perhaps you are equally wicked - Romans just more - openly unhinged.”

"What the fuck does that mean?" Roman asks with tense brows.

Valentina chuckles then slips away from the brothers. Purposely rubbing against them as she does, her backside against Roman, and front against Ivar.  Free of their hovering, she walks backward toward the staircase.

“Dahlia will fetch you in 5. Don’t tempt her, she gets a little stabby.”

Valentina turns and heads up to the office.

Everyone 

Exactly five minutes later, Dahlia approaches the bar. Crossing her arms, she raises a brow at them.

“With me. Don’t try anything.”

Dahlia reveals her blade, light reflects off the surface.

Roman scoffs, "I bet you fuck with that thing in your hand too, don't you?"

Dahlia narrows her eyes at him, then points the blade his way. “I don’t like you. I rather just gut you both and be done with this," her eyes jump to Ivar, then Roman. "Apparently, she wants to play with her food.”

Ivar smiles, and it irritates Dahlia even more. She rolls her eyes. "Why are you smiling?”

Ivar shrugs. “You are kind of cute, in a murderous way. Roman," he makes eye contact with his brother, "let’s guess - “

They smile and exchange a nod, then say at the same time, " a demon?"

Dahlia's green eyes turn completely black, then go back to normal. She sneers, then leads the way to the office. "Shut up and follow me."

Everyone

The bar itself looks like a vampire's fantasy, but her office, it takes the cake. It's dark, sensual, mainly illumined by candlelight and a sultry red light overhead. The couch and her chair are both made of black velvet.

The brothers sit on the couch and continue taking in the room. At first, they didn't feel Valentina. When the high back chair behind the desk swivels, it catches them off guard. She cloaked herself, same as she did that first night they came to the bar.

“Hi boys.”

Before Ivar can stop him, Roman is on his feet and speeds to the desk. He slams his hand down angrily, “what the fuck do you want?”

Valentina observes him with a grin.

Eventually, she replies, “I want to know how two vampires got into my fucking town.” She presses her hands flat on the table.

Roman clenches his jaw. His eyes drop down to her cleavage, they linger there a moment before he drags them back up.

Valentina narrows her eyes at him. “That barrier is unbreakable. Yet, you two entered it. How did you do it?”

Ivar shakes his head, “that's what this is about?”

Roman stands up, “I guess the Queen doesn't want anyone fucking up her reign. A whole town to yourself. Pretty greedy you think?”

“You’re one to talk Roman."

Valentina rounds the desk, then leans against the front of it. Her body facing Ivar, her head tilted toward Roman.

"When I spelled you, I saw everything.”

“We don’t know how we broke it.” Ivar cut in.  

Her eyes meet his, “Ivar, thank you for your honesty…” she takes a beat, then glances at Dahlia who remains by the now closed door. The two exchange a knowing look. Dahlia moves to the back of the room.

Valentina's eyes leave Dahlias, then floats to the guys.

“I’ll free you from part of my little spell, once I have what I need. “

She snaps her fingers and Roman is thrust backward to the couch. Despite their protests and efforts, both of them are stuck, unable to stand or move. Valentina now has control over their bodies.

“You see, “she holds out her hand and Dahlia places one syringe in it. “I suspect it has something to do with you both being part Upir. I’ve been around a long time, but I’ve never heard of that...two vampire genes in one family. It's the sort of thing to evoke the mad scientist in a gal.”

Ivar tries to move; she can see the strain in his neck. "What is that for?"

She walks over to them but doesn't answer.

“What are we? You lab rats?” Ivar yells.

“Not exactly. You will help me perfect my boundary spell. Once I understand your blood, I'll know what I’m missing. “

Valentina climbs into Roman's lap. She takes her time settling in, painfully slow. The friction of her body against his is shifting his mind to more than his anger.

Valentina settles in with a purr, “Oh, Roman...you are a big boy!”

She locks one arm around his neck and licks the side of his face. All he can do is watch; he can't even palm his erection. Grabbing a fist full of his hair, Valentina tugs hard. Roman growls and curses at her.

“Such a dirty mouth too. We may have to do something about that.” She pouts at him, then, without warning, plunges the needle in the side of his neck.

Her lips fall open, fangs drop as it fills with blood.

Ivars eyes jump between the big ass needle and the way she grinds on Roman.

Though they are in a situation that is far from in their favor, it was kind of funny seeing Roman being tortured so much.

Once she has what she needs, Valentina caps the needle and hands it to Dahlia.

She smooths her palm over Roman's hair, “Who knows, your blood may hold other gems for me.”

Leaning in, she laps up the rest of the blood with her tongue. Roman moans and tries to grab her, he can't lift his arms. Roman drops his head back.

Fuck, he exhales. He's over stimulated and starving and pissed. Now he had a damn erection, and he can't do anything about.

Valentina playfully slaps his cheek, then shifts her attention to Ivar.

“Now, my favorite one.” She coos.

Valentina moves to Ivar's lap, running her hands down his chest as she settles in.

“The last Upir I met was…. 101 years ago? I thought they were extinct. Yet here you are.” She tilts Ivars's head to the side, exposing his neck, “maybe you breaking my barrier wasn't so bad after all.”

“Maybe it wasn't.” Ivar replies. But there is no humor in his tone, its dark, and heavy, same as his eyes.

He's upset, yes. He wants to break this spell, yes. But his most pressing need is to have her, to consume her, to make her moan and purr beneath him.

Another reason he seems calmer than Roman is because he actually likes this town. They've been to so many places not worth remembering, but this, this is exciting.

This, they'll remember this forever.

And Valentina, even if she is an enemy to conquer, is one of the most fascinating beings he's ever met. Ivar can't recall the last time he's been intrigued by anything, and everything about this has his full attention.

Ivar's always found a comfort in witches. Not just because they taste delicious. Their mother was a witch. So was their grandmother. He's always been fond of them, and in a way, wished he acquired some of those traits too. Magic skipped the men in the line and went only to the women. Though, Ivar has always been more magically inclined than Roman.

His hunger for adventure and mystery has finally been fed by this town, and by discovering what he thought to be myth, is a reality.

As Ivars thoughts run away from him, Valentina observes him. She takes in every little detail of his face, caressing it with her fingers as she does. They both remain unresponsive to Romans comments and curses. Since she climbed into his lap, Ivar hasn't looked at anything else but Valentina.

"Really drawing this out ey?" Dahlia comments with a sigh.

"See, one thing we can agree on." Roman looks at her.

Valentina ignores them both. She rests on hand on Ivars's neck, the other on his cheek.

This is a rare feeling, becoming so lost in someone. His eyes are near impossible to look away from, they plunge her into the depths of the sea. She barely pulls herself back to land.

Diverting her eyes, she took a breath and grabbed the needle as Dahlia held it out. Without warning, she plunges it into his neck. Her eyes meet his again.

Ivar stays still, barely making a sound as he holds her gaze. The moment feeling so erotic the rest of the room vanishes. When Valentina pulls the needle out, she quickly caps it. Dropping her mouth to his neck she sucks hard, taking in as much of his blood as she can.

Ivar closes his eyes, savoring the sensations. Valentina jerks her head back, then greedily claims his mouth with her own.

“Gross.” Romans' eyes travel the room, the settle on Dahlia. “Hey, demon, why don’t you help me out?” He points to his cock with his eyes.

“I’d kill you before I'd fuck you.” Dahlia hisses.

Ivar laughs. “You two should just make out already.” His words are directed at them, his eyes locked on Valentina. She hasn't moved from his lap.

Valentina glances at Dahlia, “Don’t deny the sexual tension, I can taste it.”

Dahlia frowns, "I stopped fucking men a long time ago. Not happening."

Valentina climbs out of Ivars lap. She hands the syringe to Dahlia.

“Okay boys, here’s the deal.” Valentina turns to them, “you stay as long as I need you to stay. If I need more blood, I take it. I’ll provide your meals, but you cannot kill them. Bite them, fuck them, but no killing. Got it? The only way you can feed in Whispering Pines is if I allow it."

Roman laughs, "un-fucking-believable."

Ivar smirks, but it's not a pleasant one, “You can’t enforce that.”

“I can.” Valentina points to the vials of blood. "I own you now, both of you. Dahlia, bring up the girls.”

Dahlia leaves with the blood.

Roman challenges Valentina, “So, we are your little bitches now? Until you’re finished with us?”

Valentina crosses her arms and flashes a smug grin. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Roman tries to move, he grows more upset, “You can't just grind on us and leave us like this!"

“I’m in a kind mood tonight Roman, lucky you. I have a gift."

Dahlia returns with two women.

Valentina gestures to them, "A thank you for your participation.”

She stands next to Dahlia and drapes her arm around her.

"Boys, before the fun starts, a word of advice. Don't test me. You'll regret it. It's much nicer being on my good side."

Valentina follows up her threat with a chant, it's a language neither of them have ever heard before. Suddenly, they can move again, their fangs drop down. Their cheers and relief instantly filled the room.

Valentina addresses the women, "undress."

Happily, the two women abide.

"I found a couple of vampire groupies, I know how much you like them," Valentina said casually.

She and Dahlia make eye contact, communicate nonverbally then Dahlia leaves.

Valentina perches herself up on the desk and crosses her legs. “I'll be right here in case any of you try to kill one of my girls. Remember, feed. fuck. No killing."

As she watches them, Ivar watches her.

The cute naked woman sauntering his way is appealing, but, he wants Valentina more.

As predicted, Roman and his lady are already going at it, making out hot and heavy as she undresses him. The other woman is kneeled before Ivar. She unbuttons his pants. Ivar grabs her hair, enjoying her touch, and keeping eyes on Valentina.

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[psychoangiethings]

The Bloodline [Roman Godfrey x Reader]

Warning: Adult themes & language, murder

Other tags: Magic, friends to lovers, slow build, nightmares, witches, upirs

Summary: After very suspicious car crash that killed both of her parents, Abigail   Wolff moves in with her aunt to Hemlock Grove only to discover a truly interesting family history which her father kept from her. As she awakens her powers, something much older and terrifying is coming after her. Or maybe not after her at all.

Chapter 6

Masterlist

Chapter 7 - I promise you that

22nd November 2016

When we say "I dreamed all night", it's not uncommon. But most people don't know that their dreams didn't last for whole night but mere for a few seconds. Maby for twenty minutes but that's top. The dreams are changing too and we can have something about five dreams in one night. Sometimes even more. And every single person, every single place we dream about, we have already seen in our life. A stranger in a shop, that nice tree across the street - every little detail our brain processed and hid and when the time came, used it in our dreams. Why? Because human brain just can't create details or emotions we haven't seen or felt.

So when my body ran through dark forest, jumping over branches and stones, I knew I was dreaming. I had to be because there was no way in my life I would be dressed in those clothes I was wearing. Let alone won't be able decide what my next move would be. Nope. This had to be dream and crazy one.

I was running in the night through woods I didn't recognized, wearing a wool dress like some wench from Middle Ages and wasn't even scared. That totally couldn't be me because I was scared of spiders, unexpected noises and everything else which I considered unexpected.

But still, I ran for my life and felt only determination. I didn't look over my shoulder, just ran as fast as I could deeper into the forest, until I saw a fire. Actually torches stuck in the ground forming a circle and once I stood in it, I knew I have won.

There were shadows crawling on the ground, trying to get closer to me. But when I looked, really looked, they stopped and formed a man. A handsome man with long black hair, he wore simply clothes and had so beautiful smile it hurt my heart.

"We don't have to do this, love," he said and I felt something disgusting crawl under my skin.

"You won't fool me with his face! I know exactly what you are." It wasn't my voice, but I've never really heard someone speak with so much resolution.

"I was trying to be pleasant to look at. Maybe try to convince you to join me. Like one of your sisters did."

Suddenly I felt sharp pain, an ache inside of me. My sister. "I killed her." The man didn't look surprised, maybe even pleased.

"Amira, Amira... What am I going to do with you. I can't have you just running around, ruining my plans. I have to do something about it since none of my minions succeeded."

"I was a bait. And now," I said with so much relief and satisfaction at the same time,"now you are trapped."

He just grinned and tried to ran to me but invisible barrier threw him on the ground. "That is impossible! You can't have so much power!"

It was my turn to grin. "What makes you think I am alone?"

When realization hit him, he started to laugh. Evil laugh only demons are capable of. And then he shifted but because he wasn't from our world, he couldn't change to his full form and became a giant ever-changing shadow instead. Which didn't make him less dangerous though. It hurt my eyes to look at him, especially my right eye. Power radiated from him but I stood my ground as did my allies. From all of them, I brought the biggest sacrifice.

"You did something you can't handle! Release me and maybe, just maybe, I won't kill everyone you hold dear."

He was angry, I could feel that. Angry at me but mostly at himself that he fell for my trap. I lifted my arms to the sky and began to chant. The wind began howling and carried my words to others. The fire of torches around me grew stronger.

"I will kill you! I will! I promise you that, Amira! You and your bloodline until every single person who has your blood is destroyed!"

Blood was boiling under my skin, my clothes were damp on me and I didn't stop even when my nose started to bleed. The strength others gave me was quickly draining but I was gaining power even from the earth itself. "Sometimes we have to sacrifice ourselves to get rid of evil, even if it should interfere across the centuries."

"Then I will destroy your soul!"

"Good luck with that."

I woke up with jerk, staring up at my ceiling. On my bedside table there was my phone. I checked the date. Okay, I was out for one day give or take. No Erika this time. Actually everything was quiet. Again. I got out of my bed and walked towards my door, passing a mirror. Erika said something about a gift and for the first time I was able to see what actually she meant. One blue eye, the other one green. It looked like heterochromia, at least that I could say. Now what with the rest of me? There were no visible changes but what about supernatural creatures? Will they perceive me differently? There was only way to find about it.

I went downstairs, taking slowly each step because I didn't like the silence in our house. It reminded me of the forest in my dream. Being in that situation I don't know how I would react. Obviously not so calm. Standing in the kitchen, there was no one to be found. "Erika?" I highly doubted Erika would leave me alone. But hey, everything was possible. "Aunt Eri-" Something hit me from behind in my back and I fell on my knees. Blood rushed into my head as I lifted my arm and without thinking and looking over my shoulder I threw behind myself a chair with my newly found powers.

"Holy fuck!" someone exclaimed. Or at least I thought it was only chair but soon find out it was whole table with all chairs we had there.

I stood up and turned around only to see Erika with Lynda stand there in a pile of broken furniture. "Oh my god, are you alright?" I asked with wide eyes, almost afraid to move.

Erika just clicked with her tongue. "Well, we have to work on that but the tattoo did a good job too."

Wait, what? "What? Are you sane?! I was terrified who was there! Couldn't you just say I'm here like a normal person?!"

"Where's the fun in that? You've got the proper welcome of Wolff family after your Awakening."

"You've got to be kidding me." I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. So after everything that happened, after that agonizing dream I was forced to live through and those hallucinations, my aunt decided to do this.

"You have to train, you have to be ready. I thought you knew that."

"That's not the fucking point, Erika!" I yelled at her, anger rising in my body, projecting itself even outside of it. "I woke up alone in my room from something I can't even describe, I don't know what's happening to me and the first thing you do is firing something at me just to find out how will I react?!" In one second, there was nothing, in the other one with a new blink I saw magic that was flowing through Erika's veins, I saw a purplish air shifting around her hands and as soon as I looked at her, it was gone.

"Mom? Are you there? What the fuck is happening?" That was Peter's voice. Obviously he came to look for his mother and pulled me out of my trance. Lynda looked relieved, she just stepped over the broken things and went to the door. I was still staring at Erika, wondering what the hell happened right now.

"Peter, it's alright now."

"There was this weird wind, I thought something happened here."

"Where is the Godfrey boy?"

"Home I think, we returned an hour ago. Is really everything okay?" There was slight trace of uncertainty in his voice and Lynda finally gave in.

"Abigail's awake."

"Oh."

And with that oh it was clear as a blue sky. Erika knew something she didn't tell me. Even Rumancek's family knew more than I did. I did had my doubts about undergoing this freaking stuff but I did it for revenge and tried to ignore all the signs of depression that was creeping upon me. I lost my parents and didn't grieve. I hungrily absorbed every new information Erika gave me just to keep myself occupied with something, anything.

Maybe if it weren't for those hallucinations or heartbreaking dream, I would be good. But now I was just sad, hurt and mostly really pissed off.

And that's how I found myself on the ground, falling apart in front of my aunt with Peter and Lynda on our doorstep.

[equalstrashflavoredtrash]

When your muse permits, please write a super smutty Roman/plus sized reader fic where the reader totally rocks his world!!!

warning: there be smut ahead

word count: 2,668

@@captstefanbrandt @peaky-yamyam @sheepishdove @captstefanbrandt @lunaschild2016 @lostinthebeans @ariwolff14

Once you had finished making formal introductions with your father, you stole away from the main ballroom where the annual Gala was being hosted, choosing instead to wander aimlessly through the empty halls of the Godfrey Mansion. You couldn’t help but smile as you meandered past the various parlors and sitting rooms, it had been at least ten years since you had last stepped foot on the marble tiles and yet they still felt familiar. With each stride you took you remembered more, the map of the floor plan becoming clearer in your mind as the obscuring dust was blown away.

Reaching the end of the west wing, you came upon a very familiar staircase. Gently, you laid your palm on the oak banister, taking careful steps so that the click of your shoes did not disturb the quiet that engulfed you so far away from the merriment. You always felt more comfortable alone in the dark, crowds had a way of grating on your nerves.

Sipping at the flute of champagne you couldn’t help but laugh at the juxtaposition. Last time you had climbed these stairs you were still a child, sobbing and covered in mud, screaming for your father. Now you moved with the poise and grace of a civil woman. Before you had been in jeans and a t-shirt, smeared with dirt from playing outside. Now you wore a custom fitted dress, designed for your figure. The scoop neckline accentuated your bust while the floral bodice cinched at your waist, leading into the skirt made of taffeta that bounced around you, light as air.

You were well aware your body was not model standard, but you never let that stop you, and it helped that your father’s wallet and status could insure you got whatever you wanted. You paired the dress with black tights with subtle heels, choosing to forgo any statement jewelry, and wearing your hair down in it’s natural waves.

Unconsciously you clicked your nails against the crystal flute, still not used to the length. Your father had suggested you get them done for the Gala, insisting on something other than your usual, short, bitten nails. Still getting used to the sensation of the acrylics though, you couldn’t help but constantly fidget and scratch, playing with the nails until they didn’t pinch. You did like the almost-black burgundy color you’d chosen though.

You were nearly halfway down the hall when you spied the door you were looking for. Stepping close, you did a double take of your surroundings, trying to see past the shadows of the long hallway, before twisting the knob and crossing the threshold.

Flicking on the lights, you took a final gulp of your drink before striding forward, taking in every detail of the bedroom. You could not abate the curiosity you had. The insatiable inkling to know what he’d been up to while you were gone, living outside of the country with your family, without directly asking him, and the best solution you could find was going through his personal things.

Giving a sigh, you tried to relax. The Gala was in full swing, there was no way that anyone would be up here on the third floor, you had the place to yourself. Placing the empty glass on the desk, you dug into your small bag, pulling out the cigarette tin. Never having been one with a taste for tobacco, you released the the latch, letting the lid pop open before pulling out one of the joints you had rolled in preparation for the boring evening of polite small talk.

You lit the end and inhaled while carefully maneuvering around the the mess of laundry on the floor, trying your hardest not to upset the landscape as you moved towards the bookshelf. Letting out a scoff, you couldn’t help but judge his personal collection.

Puffing on the joint, you weren’t surprised by finding innumerable amounts of Ayn Rand’s writing. Of Course the spoiled son of a rich tycoon would be interested in objectivism, you mused to yourself as you traced a finger over the shelf. You couldn’t help noticing his extensive collection of books on Medieval society and technology.

A familiar title caught your eye, the gold embossed lettering on the spine glinting in the low light reading, La Sorcière. Lifting your hand to your mouth, you held the paper crutch of the joint with your lips before removing the curious volume. Letting the book fall open in your palm, you thumbed through the pages, too engulfed to notice any movement in your surroundings.

“What are you doing in here?” a strange voice asked.

You yelped in surprise, nearly dropping the book. “What the fuck,” you breathed coughing slightly as you grabbed the rolled paper, keeping it from falling to the ground and igniting the carpet. Clutching a hand to your chest, you turned around to face the owner of the room you were perusing.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Going through your stuff, obviously,” you stated with a roll of your eyes, emboldened by the alcohol as you fidgeted, flicking the end of the joint so the spent ash fell away.

“Who do you think you are?” he seethed, stepping closer before ensnaring your wrist with his fingers. He tugged at your arm, jerking your body to face him and drop the book.

“Really, you don’t recognize me?” you teased, your voice dripping with disdain. “After all the time you spent pulling on my hair and pushing me in the mud when we were kids?” You spoke with a bitter tone, barely touching on the way he’d torment you, while watching the realization wash over his features.

He mumbled your name under his breath before releasing his grip on your hand.

“And how’ve you been, Roman?” you asked in a mockingly saccharin tone, turning away to grab the fallen book and return it to the proper place on the shelf oh-so carefully before facing him.

You couldn’t help when your eyes went wide as you finally got a good look at him. It was more than obvious that he’d grown since you’d seen him last. He must’ve sprouted like bamboo when puberty finally hit. Before you’d left, you and he had been about eye-level, now he loomed over you, easily a foot taller than your small stature.

“Better now,” he murmured, blantaly eyeing your form. You rolled your eyes again, bringing the joint back to your lips as you tried to sidestep him.

He was faster, blocking your way and plucking the joint from your fingers. He held it between the pads of his thumb and index finger and lifted the end to his lips, taking a long drag before letting the exhaled smoke snake into his nostrils. You cursed yourself as you felt a weight drop in your abdomen, watching the wisps of white dance over the pink of his lips. You had promise you would not let these feelings arise.

“You still into weird shit like insects?” he asked, quirking his brow, watching for your response.

Letting out an exasperated scoff, you shot him an incredulous look. “You seem the same as ever. You were always awful.” Shifting to the other direction you tried to push past him but he quickly boxed you in, keeping you against the bookshelf.

“You really hated me when we were little, huh?” he asked, a smirk dancing at the corner of his mouth as his fingers slowly drifted to your hip.

“Yes, and I still hate you now,” you admonished, your hand flying to press against his chest, trying to keep some distance between you as he stepped closer.

Roman held your gaze for a moment before dropping his head. He bent forward, hunching into you as his lips brushed against the side of your neck. You couldn’t help your gasp at the first fluttering touches, his warm breath preemptively ghosting over the sensitive skin before his soft lips made contact.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice husky, humming over your neck, so close to your ear while you curled your fingers into the cotton of his shirt, trying not to moan. “Tell me why you hate me. Tell me how much.”

“You were horrible and cruel,” you began, fighting to keep the whine from your voice, digging your nails ever deeper into the muscles of his arm, though it only served to encourage him. “Y-you constantly teased me and broke my toys. You killed my pet–,”

Roman abruptly pulled back, his blue eyes instantly connecting with yours, “That wasn’t a pet, it was a fucking bug. And it wouldn’t stop making that stupid noise.”

“He was a hissing cockroach! That’s what they DO,” you challenged, leaning back so your palms rested flat on his chest. “And you killed it because you’re an asshole and you could! You did it just to upset me!”

You could see the smolder in his fair eyes, but were unsure of what his next move would be. You knew he was volatile and yet you chose to speak your mind as you always had.

“Yeah that’s true, I was only mean to you so you’d pay attention to me.” His admission caught you off guard. Before you had a chance to think and process what he’d confessed, Roman dove forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

It was futile to fight the instinct to respond, so you eagerly returned his aggressive affections while sliding your hands to his clavicle, closer to his shirt collar. You dug your fingers into his shoulders, feeling the pressure on your long nails as they jabbed into the skin under his oxford cloth shirt.

Roman pulled at your lips, biting the soft flesh before his tongue found its way past your teeth. You met his challenge, pushing back at the intrusion and wrestling with him. His hands dropped from the bookshelf next to your head to rest on your waist, tugging you harder against to him.

It took a moment for you mind to actually click that you were furiously making out with Roman Godfrey. Yes, you hated him, but those feelings weren’t as pure and concise as they once were. Going through puberty you found that you had a weird recurring dream of being intimate with him, the subject matter only growing more risque with your age. These dreams only served to confuse your emotions without curving your animosity for him. But here you were, actually pressed between him and bookcase as you had so often dreamt. He pulled back for a breath, smirking at the sight of your swollen lips.

If tonight was an evening for dreams, then you were going to reenact all of them, even your daydreams. Pushing against his chest, you reared one hand back before quickly dropping your palm to his cheek. The crack of skin meeting skin radiated to your core. You couldn’t hide your grin as you watched the pink begin to bloom under his pale flesh, imagining the prickles of pain he felt as he kept his head to the side. Slowly, he lifted one hand from your waist, the other staying firm, to touch at his lip, testing to see how profusely the cut on his inner cheek was bleeding. You could see the bulge of his tongue through the soft muscle as it ran along the hidden wound.

Grabbing your bicep, he flung you on to the bed with more ease than you expected. With a swift motion he was on top of you, pinning your wrists into the mattress. You couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability. Lying there underneath him, you felt like an upturn beetle stuck, immobile on its back with a carnivorous praying mantis looming above, readying to feast, just waiting to take advantage of your position.

He recaptured your lips in a hungry kiss before dropping his hands to creep under your skirt. You could taste the blood in his mouth before trailing your tongue along the injury as you kissed.

Eagerly he pulled down your underwear and pantyhose, though only so far to reveal your heat to the brisk air with the elastic band taught around your thighs, keeping your legs together. He slid his fingers over your skin before coming to tease at your lips. He pushed your knees to his right so you were laying on your side.

“You know,” he hummed lifting his head away a fraction of an inch so his lips still brushed yours as his fingers pushed past your folds, testing your wetness. “I still want to pull your hair.” You tried to fight back the shudder that coursed through you at the idea but it was useless, he could surely feel the flood that came with his words. “And I’m pretty certain you want me to.”

You let out a raspy moan as he lowered his mouth to your neck, nipping along your jugular while lacing his long fingers into the roots of your hair and tugged. Fisting the sheets, you wriggled against him as he hurried to release himself from his trousers before impatiently pushing into you. The sounds caught in your throat as he settled, revelling your warmth. The way he held you, with your legs together created a tight tension you’d never expected as his fist jerked at your follicles with each shove.

Releasing a hiss, Roman pulled his hips back and thrust into you hard, drawing a gasp from your throat. He slowly picked up his pace, leaning over you so he could study your blissful expression, they way your eyes fluttered shut while you kept one hand curled into his shirt, holding him close.

Letting his tongue dance across the small laceration in his mouth, he tasted the blood and tumbled unexpectedly over the edge. You could feel as he twitched and released inside of you, the sensations of his orgasm spurring on your own. Your walls spasmed around his length as his name spilt past your lips like a garbled mantra.

With a last sigh of relief, Roman pulled out and dropped to lay next to you on the mattress. He loosened his grip but still kept his fingers buried in your hair as he gazed at you, his expression bathed in a post-orgasm eurphoria. Cautiously you smiled back, biting at your lip as you slid your hand to his cheek, stroking the aggravated mark you’d left.

The pair of you laid in silence, taking deep breaths of the same air for what felt like eons, but was truly minutes. You were yanked back to reality by the sound of your cell phone ringing from your purse, discarded somewhere on the floor.

Awkwardly shuffling from the bed you hurried to answer, knowing it was your father calling, “Hello? Daddy? Hey,” you greet, holding the device to your ear. Roman could hear the muffled sound of your father on the other end. “No I didn’t go home, I ran into Roman. We’ve been, uh– catching up that’s all. Mhmm, ok, I’ll meet you in the main hall in a moment.” Returning your phone back into the bag, you stood up, grabbing the elastic waistbands around your thighs and shimmying them back up to your waist.

Turning back towards the bed, you found Roman sitting up watching you. He’d tucked himself into his boxers but his zipper remained loose as he studied you through half lidded eyes. “How long are you in town for?” he asked in a placid voice, a flat tone you could draw no meaning from.

“Another six weeks,” you replied cautiously, eyeing him as you straightened your skirt and gathered your things. He merely nodded in response and you left the room without further conversation.

You easily kept a cheery face as you joined your father, alluding that you and Roman had done nothing more than chat though you could still feel his seed dripping from you into your underwear with every step you took.

[my-emotional-self]

Miscellaneous Masterlist

Derek Hale

   I’ve Got You **

Stiles Stilinski

   Feeling Void  **

   I Like You **

Roman Godfrey

   The Story Of Us  **

   Mr. Creepy

   The Confession 

Negan

   Feelings 

Daryl Dixon

   First Snowfall

   The Kiss

   First Fight

Ivar the Boneless

   The Viking and The Star Series **

   Together

   Christmas with Ivar

   Do You Still Love Me?

   Fight Me

   Bite Me **

   Alone

   Weekend Getaway

Jasper Hale

   A Perfect Gentleman **

Eric Coulter 

   Save Me **

   Erudite to Dauntless **

      Part 2 **

   Rescued 

Alex Hogh Andersen x OFC / Bill Skarsgard x OFC

   Desired Hearts **

[fanfickittycat]

Study Break

TITLE: Study Break CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: One shot AUTHOR: fanfickittycat FANDOM: Hemlock Grove CHARACTERS: Roman Godfrey x OC FIC SUMMARY:   A oneshot in which Roman isn't a fan of studying and shows Viola exactly what he'd rather be doing RATING: M AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: Posting this on my tumblr but you can also find it on my AO3 (link on my blog). I just recently started watching Hemlock Grove and this happened.

Roman Godfrey was bored. This was a fact. He had tried to read over the textbook page but he had no interest in any of the Bronte sisters, let alone Emily, who’d he’d cast off as ‘some ugly goth girl’ much to the annoyance of his girlfriend Viola who adored the book and anything else written by the Bronte’s. It was because of her that he was sat here pretending to study. Viola was many things, ambitious, creative, addictive, but perhaps most of all, studious. She actually enjoyed the process of studying, seeing it as an opportunity for competition. Competiveness was maybe one of Viola’s best and worst traits. Roman admired her drive but was often irritated when she would ditch him for her books. It was his constant whining that led her to asking him if he wanted to study with her.

“I don’t study” he had said simply, lighting a cigarette as he wound down the window of his car.

“I do, and if you’re that desperate to spend time with me then you will.”

Roman laughed in disbelief “I’m not that desperate to spend time with you” he said, turning his head to look out the window and hide his shifty eyes. His eyes were his tell. He knew this and he knew Viola knew this too.

She pecked his cheek “I’ll see you at ten am sharp tomorrow. Do not be late Roman Godfrey.” and with that she got out of the car and walked away without looking back.

Now he was here. It had been an hour and a half since he’d gotten there and the only sound in the room was the ticking of the grandfather clock and Viola’s pen scrawling over the pages of her notebook. Roman did not like to be ignored. He especially did not like to be ignored by Viola. He watched her carefully, hoping the intensity of his stare would get her to look at him but all he got was ten minutes of her nudging the end of her pen against her plump lips. The action reminded him of something else and he had to look down at his own, untouched pen. It was then that Roman was struck with what could only be described as true inspiration. He picked up the pen and dropped it. The sound didn’t startle Viola who was too lost in analysing genre conventions to notice Roman’s signature smirk. The one that meant he knew something and she did not.

Roman slid off the chair and onto the dining room’s cool wooden floor. His pen lay abandoned next to his chair leg and there it would stay. Roman had a very different target instead. Viola’s legs were bare, save for a pair of dark ankle socks that her mother had bought for her years ago. The colour had begun to fade making them a dark navy blue instead of their usual midnight hue. Her legs switched from being crossed over to stretched out, and her foot scarcely missed Roman who wet his lips with his tongue quickly at the sight. He waited momentarily for her to become comfortable in this new position and then he attacked. His tongue traced over her calf muscle on her right leg making her retract in surprise.

“Roman!” she squeaked, pulling back to see him under the table with that shit eating grin of his “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Studying” he said taking her right foot and slinging it over his shoulder as casually as he would with a jacket “I have an anatomy quiz on Friday and I think I ought to” he kissed the skin below her knee “brush up on my knowledge of the human body.”

“I’m studying Roman” she said, biting her lip to stifle a moan when his fingers began to graze along the smooth skin of her thigh.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t” he remarked, locking eyes with her as he nipped the skin making her hiss “go on” he said “get back to studying young lady, I know you can get that A.”

“I can’t if you’re distracting me.”

“Can’t you? Why Viola is that quitter’s talk I hear” he teased, revelling in how she frowned at him.

“No” she mumbled reluctantly, she chewed the inside of her cheek as she mulled over what to do. She could kick Roman out and get back to Heathcliff, the only man that should matter to her right now. Or she could play his game. She knew how it would end though, with her losing miserably and Roman delighting in his win with her juices running down his chin. She sighed in frustration, it was a lose-lose situation, even if she did push Roman out the door she would be too turned on to study properly.

She watched him nuzzle against her inner thigh, leaving bruising, open mouthed kisses on the apex of it. She hated Roman. She hated how much he distracted her and how good he was at what he did. Her breath hitched when he started to caress her neglected left leg, hiking it up onto his other shoulder expertly.

“I wish you put this level of effort into your schoolwork” Viola said finally. It was a weak jab but it earned her a grin from him.

“Oh could you imagine what I could do if I spent as much time between the pages as I do between your legs.” He pressed the tip of his tongue into the damp material of her panties, letting her wriggle to find the friction she desired. “Of course” he said withdrawing his tongue “if I did then I wouldn’t be able to do this with you.” His finger found her clit, rubbing it through the silky fabric of her underwear.

Viola clutched her pen tighter, letting the biro imprint its shape onto the pads of her fingers. She should’ve known that Roman would do something like this. Whenever the two of them were alone it would always end like this come rain or shine. Although perhaps it would be more apt to say come period or not… Viola’s mind couldn’t concentrate on anything more than Roman rubbing steady circles on her clit, looking like the cat who got the cream when he saw how wet she was getting.

“Don’t you like this Viola?” He asked almost innocently “isn’t this better than studying?”

“Shut up” she muttered, her hips had begun to shallowly thrust in the hopes of having him actually touch her the way she wanted him too.

Roman tsked “now, now Viola that’s no way to speak to your favourite study buddy. I’m just being a good partner here after all. Who else would take care of you and your body when you won’t?” He began to pull down her panties with his teeth, roughly tugging them off her ankles and stuffing into his pocket.

“Those are new.”

“Good. They’ll replace the old ones I keep in my glove compartment.”

Viola groaned in response, her hand had let go of the pen at this point and fell to the ground with a soft thud. Despite how quiet the noise was Roman couldn’t resist a small, victorious smile. I win Roman sang in his head before burying his face between his girlfriend’s legs.

Viola’s other hand became entangled in his hair, progressing from stroking to light pulls to more. It wasn’t hard to get caught up in the moment and Roman encouraged it. He liked to know how desperate she was for him. He lived for her reliance on his tongue to make her cum. The way she’d go from half whispering his name to screaming it was something that never got old. He sucked on her clit, letting his tongue trace the letters of her name upon it. A subtle way of marking his territory. His index and middle finger found her opening wet and inviting and he closed his eyes briefly to enjoy the sensation of her warm, tight walls coupled with the intoxicating taste of her, and the spilling of expletives from her lips. It was a heady concoction.

Viola’s steady chants of his name “Roman Roman Roman” became tighter, half speech half screams as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. He curved them, eliciting a “fuck!” from his girl which made the pit of his stomach hot with desire. His tongue changed up the pace and pattern often enough to have Viola’s eyes rolling into the back of her head; her mouth open.

“I’m so close Roman” she whimpered but even if she hadn’t said it he could still tell. He was so attuned to her body that he could read it a thousand times better than Wuthering Heights. He enjoyed it more too. Her thighs trembled, a signal that she was ready to explode, and he made sure to up his speed to push her over the top.

Viola did not believe in any great cosmic power but she did believe that Roman had a God given talent for making her reach highs she had never known had existed. Her body was spent, and the dining room chair drenched with her sweat. She hardly cared what her parents would say when they had come home from the tennis courts which they frequented. Her heavy pants were matched with Roman’s who briefly kissed her knee before taking out the pack of cigarettes he kept in his back pocket. He offered her one and she clambered down onto the floor to take one. He lit it for her and she took a drag, resting her head on his warm shoulder. Yes she decided silently to herself this was better than studying.

[youaremyfamiliar]

🎬📺 Share ten different favorite characters from ten different pieces of media in no particular order 🎮🃏 Then send this to 10 people (anon or not, your choice)

I was tagged by @saldelys. Thank you hon ❤️

Here we go!

Eddie Munson - Stranger Things | Eddie my love 😩 oh how they wronged you

Ivar the Boneless - Vikings | I hate him so much. But christ how I love him too.

Chandler Bing - F.R.I.E.N.D.S | i’d say SAME chandler

Buffy Summers - BTVS | My hero. Always.

Hieronymus "Harry" Bosch - Bosch | sir.

Phoebe and Piper Halliwell - Charmed | do NOT make me choose 😤

Roman Godfrey - Hemlock Grove | he was just a lonely crazy boy okay 🥹

Brianna Hanson - Grace and Frankie | she’s just so ugh 😩

Five Hargreeves - The Umbrella Academy | I adore my murdering father 🥺

Beth Boland ( x Rio) - Good Girls | she’s/they’re so toxic and i fucking hate it 😭 but i need it and i love it

BONUS:

Austin Butler’s Elvis - Elvis 2022 | Is that cheating because it’s literally Elvis? Yes. But I don’t care because that performance was phenomenal and he’s SO pretty. (Tumblr didn’t let me add any more pictures bleh)

And ofc. The list goes on and on.

[walkxthexmoon]

To end my little 300 followers celebration I have made a list with my favorite Alex + Bill (and their characters) imagines/ fanfics!

+ basically everything @ill-skillsgard and @dreamtherapy write for BVA Game

If anyone wants to add up to this list, please do so I can read more of them:)

[rgbaby]

might post my first public roman godfrey fanfiction soon. i just want to share the hemlock grove love. 

don’t worry, i don’t write my fics in all lowercase, i just do this for aesthetic 

[hookahazzskeleton]

I’ve been on a hiatus for like so fucking long. School really took a toll on me literally I had no time to write once I got in high school and it was the most frustrating thing ever. But I have a vision for this account and goals for myself. Here are some things that are going to happen...

* I’m making a new masterlist. And I’ll make a new one every couple of years just to separate my work and compare and contrast something to see if Ive improved as a writer. All my old pieces will stay on the Masterlist I currently have but I’ll be linking a new one in my bio once I start writing better and more creative stories. I am going to change some things around and put all of the pictures I’ve posted on a separate page so it’s much more easier to navigate and find instead of everything being jumbled onto one.

* This is mainly for my desktop and laptop users who explore my page on the web... Im not changing my theme anymore I’ll add some small things however, different cursor, links, different colors, small things like so but the simple theme is staying. It’s easy to navigate and pleasing to the eye as well. Some one messaged me and they were livid Bc everytime they went on my page it was different and so much more confusing then the last theme I had and that just bc I’m I’m indecisive and messy. Lol yay for that.

* this is just an idea but I may post some of my stories on wattpad (one shots, and short imagines) just so people who don’t use tumblr can read them on there or for people who do use tumblr but like reading on wattpad more it’ll be more enjoyable for them. Idk about this for sure but I’ll really think on it.

* I’m not only going to be writing harry styles imagines or just 5sos. I’ll write for other characters as well one being Roman Godfrey (Netflix Orginal: Hemlock Grove) I’ve really fallen in love with character and story and I just have some ideas. Also all I’ve been doing is reading imagines about him and I want to write my own now. I’ll also be doing Dunkirk x readers I actually have so many ideas for that. I want to see more people write about Fionn Whitehead more. I love him and I literally don’t get to read about him that much..

* this Is the last thing really but it’s just that I’ll be starting new series and mini series on this account soon. Mainly they’ll be about the character of my choosing but if anyone would like a mini series with a plot they wanted executed I’d be happy to take a chance with it. I’d love everyones feed back as well. Im not good at writing smut. Like I don’t suck at it but it all just sounds the same in my writing so I’m gonna work on that and try to improve it and get feedback from better smutty writers then I before posting it.

* I’m going to be doing more inclusive stories. I’m black and I don’t get to see a lot of stories about black girls or really any POC. Ofc I’m sucked into anyone’s story no matter what but honestly it’s hard for me to really imagine it and put my self into it if all I keep seeing is “long blonde hair” “blue, green eyes” “skinny, petite” “perfect straight teeth” I personally don’t had any of those character traits so I’m going to really try to be different with my characters.

The reason I’ve been on this 1D like hiatus is Bc I’ve really been down with school (I’m about to be a junior) and family. I kinda lost interest in writing for some time but I’m really ready to get back in the game I missed it really. So expect some new orginal content coming soon but for now I’m just gonna reblog people’s amazing work and leave comments...

[watchtowerindistress]

Warning: mention of oral sex (m!receiving), the c-word, daddy kink, masturbation, degradation

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @devilxangel-blog @liadamerondjarin @andrewswifes-blog @adriennepoison

[artemiseamoon]

Nocturna Sanguine

Status: complete

Words by chapter: pt 1 - 553 | pt 2 - 446 | pt 3 - 409

⚠️warnings: blood, killing, sex 

Next chapter || Fic info & All chapters | a03

Story note: Valentina Thorne made the city of Whispering Pines her home. Allowing no other vampires in, her perfect life is undisturbed. Until two vampires break her magical barrier and shed blood on her streets.

Do not copy, plagiarize or repost my work. 🧿

Reblogs are different, it helps share the story, making it visible to more people

Part 1: Whispering Pines 

Lust at First Bite

It's the most popular sign in The Hallow Rose lounge.

Countless humans, locals and visitors alike pose in front of it weekly.

But that's not it's only claim to fame, Valentina won an award for how realistic the lounge is.

“It really feels like a vampire's lair. I wouldn't be surprised if a vampire jumped out and sucked on my neck.”

That was one of her favorite reviews. Only if he knew.

There were plenty of photos on the internet of drunken humans enjoying her creation, pretending to bite each other, pretending to be vampires. Only once in her 5 years here did an actual vampire come in; he wasn't in town long, she made sure of it.

Valentina is the only vampire in town, but don’t tell that to the people at goth night on Fridays; they were convinced otherwise. It was amusing to say the least, they were passionate and some even pretentious.

The conversations she’d hear sometimes. It took everything in her to not correct the pompous ones. Saying to herself, “That’s not what it's like you loser, now get the fuck out of here.” But this came with the territory, people flocked here from cities and towns all around.

Though the Hallow Rose is a call back to her life in the 20’s, Valentina is well acclimated to modern times. Blending in is easy, but no longer a must. These days, Vampires don't have to hide anymore.

In some states they practically ruled the streets. Living loud was never her style, so, even though she could expose what she really is, Valentina kept it a secret. Instead of being the town vampire, she chose the image of a mysterious woman and entrepreneur.

The Hallow Rose is Valentinas baby. The first building block of her empire in Whispering Pines. Valentina didn’t just own the joint, she performed here on Saturday nights. Another indulgence of her old life; something about singing on stage just felt like home.

It didn't take long to gain a faithful fanbase. The people loved her, and her night always sold out. The mysterious woman in red: chartreuse, entrepreneur, historian, vampire .

There's magic in the air of this place.

Remote and isolated, officially it was a small city but felt more like a town. Despite the lack of obvious mysticism in its modern-day incarnation, this used to be the home of great mystics, healers, and other magically inclined creatures.

Beyond that, ancestors of Valentinas walked this land; All of this drew her here years ago.

To ensure she would remain the Queen of the castle, Valentina cast a spell to deter vampires after the incident years ago. To say she is a little possessive is an understatement.

Life in Whispering Pines is just as she likes it; perfect.

Uncomplicated, easy, prosperous. It's the ideal set up.

Until the day her perfect life is challenged.

Part 2: The Blood Brothers 

“What the -” Roman yells as he enters the room. The sexy blonde draped over Ivars legs, his teeth deep in her neck.

“Brother-” Ivar sits up with an exhale, blood dripping down from his mouth as he leans back into the couch. “She was delicious.”

“You fucking asshole, I was gonna fuck her!”

Ivar smirks, dropping the girl to the floor. “Too late.”

Roman digs in his pocket, obviously annoyed, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. Holding the cigarette between his lips, he lit the tip.

“Don’t be a baby. I have an idea,” Ivar jumps to his feet, stepping over the body.

Standing before Roman, Ivar pulls a folded flyer out of his pocket. Roman, being impatient as usual, snatches it from his hand and flips it open.

Ivar continues, “Vampire bar. Two hours from here.”

“Why the fuck would I want to go to a vampire bar? We are vampires.”

“You’re kidding?” Ivars blue eyes wide with excitement, “women at vampire bars are just dying to get bit and shit. It’s easy prey.”

“The last vampire bar we went to was full of old people who smelled weird, wearing their old high school t-shirts like fucking losers.”

“Your loss.” Ivar takes the flyer back, making his way to the kitchen to wipe his face.

Roman takes a few steps closer to the body, giving it a light kick, “She was sexy, man.”

“Stop whining. We’ll find you a replacement blondie tonight, at the bar. I’ve grown tired of this college blood. I need something new.” Ivar shouts from the kitchen.

When Roman doesn't respond, Ivar steps out, finding him bent over wiping the blood off his shoe. Roman shoots Ivar a look over his shoulder, “I’m not cleaning this shit up.”

Later

“Welcome to Whispering Pines.”

Ivar reads the sign aloud as the small car zooms down the road. Ivar seemed almost hypnotized by the energy here.

Roman kept his focus ahead, semi-listening to the music blaring from the radio.

The barrier around this town was like no other; he’d felt magic before, boundary spells, but never anything like this. This place was guarded. He blamed a pothole for the car’s hiccup, but it was really the barrier.

Once he got the car through, Roman's sure whatever the barrier is, it's meant to keep the supernatural out. Ivar felt it too.

“Someone doesn’t want us here; can you feel it?” Ivars' voice low as an evil grin lingers on his lips, “I do enjoy the taste of witches.”

“Witches are fucking delicious.”

The brothers lock eyes and burst out into laughter. Roman turns the radio up, bringing his eyes back to the road as Ivar starts to head bang in the seat next to him.

Tonight is going to be a good night.

Part 3: Strangers 

The view from her office allows Valentina to see everything.

Humans fake biting each other's necks, drinking too much and snapping photos of the blood fountain. To the back she could see one person laying in the famous coffin, pretending to be dead as his friend recorded it.

By all accounts it seemed a normal night, but that was far from it.

The barrier had been broken; she could feel it.

The feel and scent of vampires only grew stronger as the hours passed. Something was coming, now it was here.

Dahlia steps into the office, closing the door behind her. “Two vampires, downstairs.

Making her way to the desk, Dahlia stops inches away from it. Upon entering, she could only see the back of the large velvet chair, as Valentina faces the floor to ceiling glass window.

“I know,” spinning in the chair, Valentina flashes her a smirk. “I knew they were coming.”

“I’ll take care of it-” Dahlia turns on her feet, about to leave the room.

“No bloodshed yet, Darling. Calm your hunger.” Valentina stands, and puts her hands on her hips, “they broke the barrier. No vampire has been able to do that. I need to find out why. Then, you can kill them. Or eat 'em, whatever you want."

Dahlia grinned while tilting her head to the side. Her deceivingly innocent face hides a monster. Dahlia is more vicious than some vampires Valentina once knew.

Closing the space between them, Valentina presses her body into Dahlias, pulling on the red tie she wore around her neck.

“Be good, keep an eye on them.”

“I’ll try.”

Valentina tugs the tie a little harder, pulling her into a kiss before letting her go.

Dahlia leaves the office.

Valentina returns to the window. A trio of girls entered next, trying too hard to look like vampires and instantly looking for attention.

The perfect prey

The very kind disappearing two towns over. The preferred type of her new vampire intruders. By the end of the night, Valentina assumes they'll be dead, or drained with no memory of what happened.

Deaths, and mysterious causes of amnesia have been happening all over, and now, it's got its sights on Whispering Pines.

She can't have that. Not here.

Her eyes zone in on the bar, and a set of guys seated there.

The murderous phantoms of the night.

Valentina has to stop them.

Not on my land, not in my home.

Next

All chapters

Reblogs are 😍😍😍

[psychoangiethings]

The Bloodline [Roman Godfrey x Reader]

A/N: I know, I know, no Roman so far but he’s in this chapter! Enjoy.

Warning: Adult themes & language, murder

Other tags: Magic, friends to lovers, slow build, nightmares, witches, upirs

Summary: After very suspicious car crash that killed both of her parents, Abigail Wolff moves in with her aunt to Hemlock Grove only to discover a truly interesting family history which her father kept from her. As she awakens her powers, something much older and terrifying is coming after her. Or maybe not after her at all.

Chapter 3

Masterlist

Chapter 4 - What’s up, Wolff?

17th November 2016

I started fourth week with my broken ribs. It was getting fucking annoying but they didn't hurt so much as they did in the beginning. I was learning a fair amount about herbs, tried to memorize some quick and useful spells. Slowly it started to get in my mind. Erika was happy about it but I needed to try harder. She always left me some books to read but soon there was nothing left. Erika didn't want me to read our ancestors's things so I made my own 'book' of things I knew and find useful. I called it my own personal 'portable grimoire'.

When she handed me some journals and grimoires about symbols, how to use them and combine them, I got an idea. Since our talk passed a week or so and I wanted to know if dad was possessed by something. Erika told me it was possible - that's why she wore those charms and rings everyday.

I told her I thought that someday I could find myself in situation when none of it I will be able to wear or I'll simply forget one thing and then what? I'll end up dead in some fucking alley? Firstly she wasn't so happy about it, but thought about my idea and then allowed it.

We drove to another town where no one knew us and I got myself my first tattoo. More like one big across my whole back with UV ink. And we had to go back three times because he couldn't do it in one session. So yeah, I got tattoo no one could see but I felt safer and Erika told me it was a pretty good idea. I was protected and no one could tell I'm a witch or suspected me of it. Right there I was that weird chick with a cool aunt.

"How're your ribs?" Her voice brought me back from my thoughts.

"Much better."

"So you're ready for a few quick rounds?" It wasn't much of a question but I nodded. When I got frustrated one day that learning names of stupid herbs won't help me and I'm just fed up, Erika made a game out of it. And every day we walked through her garden and I was supposed to answer her questions. Sometimes she would tell me name and I would tell her what the herb is for and how can you use it. Sometimes she just pointed at some and I had to tell her the name. In the basement she practised spells with me. And they were a pain in the ass. The oldest ones weren't translated (they had description of what they do though) and maybe it wasn't even language from our world. Spells translated from latin? Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

My mind was quick to adjust to situation in which we were but what if somebody attacked me and my mind went blank? What if I couldn't remember a single spell? Erika told me to run because one day my life could depend on how fast will I run.

Since I still couldn't go to school and let's be honest Erika made herself perfectly clear telling me why and when I will go, I was glad that Peter or his mother came by. I wasn't so self-confident to walk the streets of Hemlock Grove on my own yet. And honestly? I was scared. I was so fucking scared. Aunt told me it's a healthy reaction, that I'm healing and later I won't be feeling invincible like she did.

When I was in my room later that afternoon looking out of the small window near my bed, I could made out the shape of Rumancek's trailer on the other side of the river. I saw there two figures. One of them was definitely Peter but the second one didn't ring a bell. I knew they couldn't see me from so far away in such a small window but Peter said he would stopped by today and didn't say anything about another visitor.

He was my only friend I had here. And that was completely my fault since I was still buried in books or practising with Erika. I did became curious about Hemlock Grove so she told me stories and how it is today. She spoke about the Godfrey family, how a few years back they closed the Steel Mill and built Godfrey Institute. How a lot of people lost their jobs and were forced to look somewhere else or go to the Institute.

"Why do you live here? Why not somewhere else?" I asked Erika in the evening, when we were eating dinner.

"Because wether I like it or not, some Wolff has to live here. Not to mention the supernatural creatures who live in this town. One day we may need their help or the other way around. Some of them are very powerful and old. Or they come from old blood."

"Such as?"

"Such as you will know in the right time. I can't tell you everything. Some things you need to find out for yourself."

I was going to give her a piece of my mind, I really was, but there was a soft knock on our door. I got up and opened them. "Ah, Peter Rumancek. My only friend in this Hellhole. Where's your friend?"

He grinned at me. "It's not my problem you don't have friends and what friend are you talking about?" He carefully walked past me, avoiding my ribs and I closed the door. "Hi, Erika!"

"Hi, Peter."

"Go upstairs. You know where my room is." I told him and picked up my plate with dinner. "I'll eat it in my room." She only nodded because it became during the last few weeks a habit for Peter to show up this late. Sometimes he came with his mum but not today.

"So, what about your friend?" I asked him again, watching how he spread himself on my bed.

"What friend?"

"The one I saw through that window," I pointed behind him with my fork and grimaced, "earlier this day. He was taller than you." Fucking ribs. I seated myself on my comfy chair and put in my mouth another bite of risotto, watching Peter closely.

"And that taller than you friend, is Roman."

My eyebrows furrowed. "You didn't mention that name. I know that Lynda is your mother," he gave me affirmative nod, "Destiny is your cousin," another nod, "and that's basically everyone you've ever talked about. You, my friend, are very secretive," I talked with full mouth and pointed my fork at him again.

"Firstly - you, my second friend who isn't from family, are disgusting. Shut your mouth and eat. And secondly it isn't my problem. If you would be so kind and stopped playing a mole and went out to meet actual people, then I wouldn't be your only friend."

I sat quietly, finishing the rest of my meal and then spoke my mind. "I'm scared, Peter. I'm not even healed yet. I can't go to school yet but I'm tired of being here all the time. Even those trees in our backyard are pissing me off."

Peter was looking at me curiously, just lifted himself on his elbows and kept staring. "Are you sure it's just because of your ribs? Aren't you afraid of something else?"

I knew Peter knew about the supernatural side of our world. But I still wasn't entirely sure what to made of it. He never told me how exactly he came to that knowledge or if he had real witches in the family. I started nervously tugging my sleeve and that was the only answer he needed.

"Look. Tomorrow we'll go to the cake shop in downtown. I'll buy you an ice-cream."

"Peter, it's November."

"Who cares? Sometimes all you need is an ice-cream so stop bitching."

×

So the next day, in November, we went into town to get some ice-cream. Saying I was only nervous would be a big fucking lie. I was enormously bigh bundle of nerves and every unexpected noise made me jump but Erika was pleased with my progress, saying that I needed to get out of my comfort zone. So here I was. In front of our house waiting for Peter fucking Rumancek, who always got his way and my aunt supported him in it.

When he finally showed up, shit-eating grin spreading across his face, I wanted to slap him.

"What's up, Wolff? Can't wait for the tour?"

I rolled my eyes at him but smiled anyway. Our walk to the shop wasn't the fastest, I needed to make small breaks which were filled with Peter's sarcastic humour. Then he spoke about his family with a great passion and love. We exchanged stories. I told him about my seventh birthday when I broke my arm because of my stupidity. He told me about his uncle Vince and grandfather Nicolae.

"So what flavor do you want?" he asked me once we were inside the shop.

"If they have vanilla, I'll take it."

×

For the first afternoon outside of the house I wasn't feeling bad. Actually I realized I kind of did miss it. Small talks of other people, the rush of the town, rumbling of car's engine, that weird noises like from some porn... wait. What? I stopped in my tracks on the pavement and Peter did the same. "What?"

"Do you hear that?" I asked like an idiot and took a look around myself. The only thing I saw was empty parking lot. Well, there was one car. With clouded windows even though they we opened a bit. Oh! Peter looked in the same way as I did and began walking again. "Come on, that's Roman's car." It didn't sound like a big news to him and I just stared at the car. "You coming?!"

I actually needed to speed up a bit so I could maintain the same pace with him. "Uhm, did you hear that too?"

"It was from Roman's car. Don't sweat it." He told me and immediately laughed about the double-edged sentence.

I was taken aback. A little bit. "So your mysterious friend is normally having sex with strangers in his car?"

Peter gave me amused look and shook his head. "He's not mysterious but I'll tell him you'll think of him that way."

"Ah, fucking great!"

×

Roman was waiting in old Godfrey Steel Mill for Peter who was running a bit late. He paced and lit up a cigarette. That girl today, who he fucked senseless, was good distraction but he couldn't fucking wait for better weather when girls will wear skirts again. Also he thought he saw today Peter with someone but it wasn't Letha.

"Roman! Enjoyed your little afternoon fuck in car?" Peter said instead of classic welcome and laughed.

Godfrey exhaled smoke and rolled his eyes. "I thought I saw you there! Who the fuck was with you? She stared at my car like she couldn't believe it."

"She's a new friend and thinks about you you're my mysterious best friend who daily fucks strangers in his car," answered Peter amusedly and grabbed a beer from the six-pack Roman brought with him.

"Well, she certainly wouldn't be wrong. Keep her close, she's a clever one."

[watchtowerindistress]

Series Masterlist | Tag yourself

A/N: I think this is the last chapter with smut in it, lol. Watch as the number of readers decrease immensely after this. We're still getting horny!Roman, don't worry. It's just kinda a relief that I no longer have to write ultra-smutty scenes, it's just really exhausting for me. Allow me to introduce a familiar character. 

Heed the warning, if that's not your cuppa tea, skip after the second line break (after Roman comforts Amira).

Fun fact: this is the first gif I saw on tumblr that made me curious about this Roman guy.

Warning: mention of blood, period!oral sex (fem!receiving)

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @devilxangel-blog @liadamerondjarin @andrewswifes-blog @adriennepoison

[watchtowerindistress]

A/N: Why am I looking forward so much to this chapter? What's wrong with me?

Warning: language, mention of smut, angst (you've been warned), angry!Roman, degradation, choking

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @devilxangel-blog @liadamerondjarin @andrewswifes-blog @adriennepoison