Such is Life.

Old Wounds

Summary: After a messy breakup you return to your childhood home of Hemlock Grove, hoping to fly under the radar and avoid the attention of your childhood bully, Roman Godfrey, whilst you get back on your feet.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 COMPLETE

One Shots

Like One Of Your Girls

Summary: You answer an ad for an artist’s modelling job because you really need the cash. When you turn into the driveway at the Godfrey mansion you almost turn around, but you really need the cash. You have no idea that Roman can draw, and that’s just the first of many surprising things you learn about him.  

All Teeth COMING SOON

Summary: There are things living in Hemlock Grove. You can feel the hum of them under the surface of the earth, enough to set your teeth on edge. Your department, but a problem for another time, because you didn’t come for them. You came to deal with Roman Godfrey.

tystnar i luren COMING SOON

Summary: Roman’s been calling the hotline for over a year. He doesn’t know why he does it really, seeing as he has to change so many details to avoid the listener figuring out who he is. But he does find it cathartic to be able to vent without any real life consequences. Until he’s assigned a new voice, your voice, and Roman feels every word and every exhale like you’re speaking directly into his bloodstream. It’s no problem at all to find out who you are, where you live, where you go. You don’t mind talking to the boy on the phone until you realize that he may not be as anonymous or as distant as he claims to be.

Cat and Mouse

Summary: Nobody else at the FBI agrees with your hypothesis that there’s a budding serial killer at work in Hemlock county, but you’re loud and annoying enough for them to agree to send you on a scouting mission, and there’s one name that comes up time and time again. Roman Godfrey. Driving past the cemetery where a girl was found. On surveillance buying gas two miles from a dump site in the middle of the night. Offering a huge cash reward for information leading to the rescue of those two college boys. He is sharp and charming and you have no idea at all of how close you come to being his next victim, or worse. 

Lovedrunk

Summary: You don’t mean to turn up at Roman Godfrey’s house unannounced and uninvited. You know he’ll be annoyed, that he might even turn you away. But the aching throb between your legs has just been getting worse, and you’re desperate for a fix of him.

Exorcism

Summary: Everybody thinks you’re weird. You’ve tried hard not to be, but it’s hard to go unnoticed when weird things keep happening around you, courtesy of the ghost that’s been haunting you for as long as you can remember. Fortunately for you, Roman likes weird.

Immaculate

Summary: Roman has no problem talking to girls. Fucking them too, more often than not. Anything to help him forget that he does not, and will not ever have you, his childhood best friend and the purest, sweetest, sexiest person he’s ever known. You’ve never thought about Roman like that until a drunken confession at a party opens your eyes. 

The Guts Of You (Roman Godfrey x Peter Rumancek)

Summary: Peter’s going to leave. He shoulda left a long time ago, actually. He can feel the call of the open road scratching to get under his skin. The problem is that something’s already burrowed deeper, right into his bones. Peter takes every poisoned drop of devotion Roman pours into him, and he pretends it’s enough until it isn’t.

Bonnie to my Clyde

Summary: Roman gets what he wants. Pretty much always. But around you he’s tongue-tied and he can’t focus on anything else, so he pins you to a wall and holds your face and compels you to love him more than anything else in the world. And that’s great, that’s peachy. Until bodies start to pile up and Roman realizes your manufactured love for him has turned into something deadly. 

Like A Spider

Summary: After learning about his reputation and rejecting his advances, you’re caught up in Roman Godfrey’s web of dark obsession. It starts with small things, seeing the cherry red of his jaguar passing on your way to work or the gym. The ghost of his tall silhouette ducking out of the coffee shop moments before you turn around. And it’s a little disconcerting, but you can ignore it. Then come the nightmares, the night terrors, the sore muscles and bruises and memory fog. And the worst part? The only person who seems to believe you is Roman.

Three's Company (Roman Godfrey x Reader x Eric Draven)

Summary: Roman loves three things. His car, his girlfriend, and getting so high he forgets he’s a Godfrey. When a routine pick-up turns into something more, he wonders whether he’s a man who can learn how to share.

A King Dethroned (Roman Godfrey x Reader x Eric Draven)

Summary: This is a part 2 to Three’s Company, sort of. You receive an email from your landlord confirming he’s accepted the surrender of your lease. This is a surprise, because you absolutely didn’t fucking do that. And Roman isn’t even sorry for doing it. When he asks if you want to tag along to his dealer’s for a pickup, you hatch a revenge plan that you’re sure Eric Draven will be only too happy to help you with.

Bloodsport

Summary: Roman Godfrey prides himself on being the biggest asshole in every room. It's sorta his thing. Until he meets you.

Port in a Storm

Summary: You come home early from a family vacation to surprise your boyfriend Roman and catch him in bed with the one person you'd never have suspected... his sister Annie.

The Housemaid

Summary: It was an ad in the paper. HELP WANTED, female preferred. Innocuous enough, probably placed by some older lady who needed someone to take over household chores. If you’d known then what you know now, you would never have set foot in the Godfrey mansion.

My One and Only

Summary: This is a part 2 to The Housemaid because everybody wanted one! You’ve been shackled to the Godfrey Mansion and its resident psychotic prince for at least two years. When a new girl starts at the house to help Anna, you wonder if Roman might take her as a mistress to give you a break from his insatiable appetite.

Thicker Than Water

Summary: In your short life, you had experienced two great tragedies. The first had been at twelve when your mother had died suddenly. Olivia Godfrey becoming your stepmother had been the second.

The Water is Fine

Summary: This is a part 2 to ‘Thicker Than Water’. It’s the revenge plan to end all revenge plans, because fuck Roman Godfrey and his bullshit. Once you make it clear that he is not your brother, the attention from outside comes thick and fast. And Roman can’t seem to get a handle on it, can’t seem to stop your dates. You don’t even react to his teasing anymore and he’s in a freefall panic. This leads Roman to do something he has never, ever done before. Roman Godfrey begins to yearn.

Playing the Field

Summary: You're Roman's best friend, and you're always there. That's it, that's how the world works. Roman knows you'll be waiting for him at lunch, and after school by his car. And if there's something else in the way you look at him sometimes, so what? He can pretend otherwise. Until a new kid shows up at school and you sit on the other side of the table at lunch and Roman's world collapses into a clusterfuck of uncertainty.

Attentive

Summary: You’ve been hiding from your boyfriend, feeling gross and not at all up for playing Roman’s usual games. He climbs into your bedroom window when you’re getting ready to go to sleep and helps relieve your cramps.

A Caged Bird

Summary: You are not her. You look nothing like her, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Maybe he can’t. He calls you by her name, and he touches you with a reverence reserved for an angel. Roman Godfrey keeps you in a gilded cage, his pretty bird, his lost Letha.

Dealing in Deaths

Summary: It’s been a terrible week in a terrible year in a terrible… well, you’re not sure how long you’ve been feeling so… terrible. Then you meet a fuckin vampire and everything gets about a million times… weirder.

A New Way to Submit

Summary: Mr. Godfrey, CEO needs to be put in his place, and you're the only one he trusts enough to do it.

Blades, blue blossom days

Summary: Being the only new student mid-way through the year? Bad. Blending in with an all-black wardrobe and a thousand cuts on your arms? Unlikely. Avoiding the school's resident sadist? Impossible.

Therapy

Summary: After Roman makes two boys kiss in the corridor for tormenting Shelley, he’s sent to the guidance counsellor to avoid being suspended. You’re more interested in how than why, and Roman’s more into show than tell.

Eric Draven x Reader (The Crow 2024)

Valentines Day

Summary: It's your first week in rehab, nursing a broken heart, and it just so happens to be Valentine's Day.

Little Sparrow

Summary: You wake up tied to a chair with no memory of your abduction, only to come face to face with a monster.

Good Boy

Summary: You’ve always been good at reading people, and you’d figured out that Eric had a praise kink within about ten minutes of meeting him. He’d handed you a beer, twisting the top off the bottle with ease, and you’d commented on how strong he was, and his pupils had dilated. Getting him on his knees had taken little more than a ‘good boy’ and a gentle push.

Trauma Bonding

Summary: You and Eric don't get on. You're civil because you have to be, because a broken condom and a reckless decision made you the proud parents of the best kiddo in the world. You don't let yourself remember how much you loved him until he shows up on the wrong day of the week with bleary eyes and a broken heart.

The Ties That Bind us I / The Ties That Bind Us II

Summary: There’s a protocol to visiting him. Notify Eric that you’re going to enter, wait for him to slip into his restraints, and the light will go green. You’ve followed this protocol every day, multiple times a day, since Eric Draven was caught, tried, and committed to the sanitorium for the criminally insane. Taking care of a serial killer isn’t for the faint of heart, and every day spent looking into his green eyes and listening to the rough silk of his voice has you wondering whether your heart can survive him. 

Blurred Lines

Summary: You’re not supposed to get this drunk, and usually you don’t, but your boyfriend dumped you and your friends are bad influences and you can’t get a cab. So you call your best friend to pick you up and you vent about how frustrated you are and then you notice his big, tattooed hands and the broad set of his shoulders and the way he licks his lips when he looks at you, and you decide some friendships might be worth ruining.  

Eddie Barrish x Reader (Locked)

He's Good For It

Summary: Eddie Barrish can't afford to fix the alternator in his van, and the garage doesn't offer credit. You're a mechanic with nothing to do and offer to help him out. You know he's not good for the money, but there's another way he can use his smart fucking mouth to pay off his debt.

Insurance Plan

Summary: Eddie knows he’s fucked up when he tries his key in the door and finds the chain is on. He’s desperate to get back inside your apartment and your pussy, and he’s not above manipulating you to get there. When he finds out you’re ovulating, he can’t think about anything but filling you up and making it stick.

Vincent Bisset de Gramont x Reader (John Wick Chapter 4)

A Taste of Bitter

Summary: Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont stands atop the world. He has done so from the moment he came into it, spitting a silver spoon onto the ground and demanding the attention of every person in every room. He never truly stopped demanding it, and it has never been withheld. But when he decides what he wants is YOU, he'll learn that demanding does not always get him where he wants to be, but perhaps can lead to receiving precisely what he needs.

Simon x Reader (I rymden finns inga känslor)

An Aversion to Chaos

Summary: Simon likes circles, Sam and space. He does not like triangles, chaos, or the woman living in the apartment below. When his brother invites you to dinner, Simon has to make the best of it. This is not something he is good at.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 COMPLETE

Satellites

Summary: Eight months into dating your boyfriend Simon, his brother has to go to a friend’s wedding out of town. Simon has never spent a night alone in the apartment, and he doesn’t intend to start now. And although you’ve been sleeping with him for a while, you’re about to learn that sleeping with Simon, in his room, in his bed, is a whole different level of intimacy.

Smarty Pants

Summary: Working on a science project with a partner is not your favourite thing, you prefer solving equations to socializing. But being paired with Simon, possibly the only person in the whole class who likes people less than you, is an exercise in insanity. 

The Boy x Reader (Boy Kills World)

In Need of Mending

Summary: You’ve been feeding The Boy each week when he brings his cart of cabbages to market, hoping small acts of kindness brighten his difficult life just a little. But when he shows up outside your shop after closing, badly beaten, you decide to take him in, patch him up and make him feel better.

Resplendent

Summary: You’ve been going steady with the shaman’s apprentice for three glorious, secret months. Boy can’t see you as often as he’d like, but you’re the brightest light he’s ever known and he’ll do anything to keep you safe. Even if that means staying away from you sometimes. And you know it’s complicated, but you can’t help but feel insecure. When you see him accept a dried flower from another girl at the market, all your frustrations pour out at once and you snap.

Henry Pearl x Reader (Battlecreek)

A Different Perspective

Summary: Henry sees the world through painting and makes sense of it through books. He can’t get out of his head long enough to see you, so you come up with a creative way to help him focus.

Clark Olofsson x Reader (Clark)

The King of Everything

Summary: Clark and his friends break into your family's summer house and you catch them. Whilst Clark sends his boys back to the mainland he comes back for you.

Knocked Up, Knock Out

Summary: After finally convincing the pretty bank teller to go out with him, Clark finds himself more interested in her wallflower personality than he means to be. He almost feels bad about skipping town on you. Or he would, if he cared about that sort of thing. When he robs the bank six months later and sees the very obvious swell of your belly, he is, for the first time in his life, speechless.

Willard Russell x Reader (The Devil All The Time)

Before and After (Willard Russell x Reader)

Summary: He’s your older brothers friend before he goes to war. A little teasing, a lot flirty. And you’re not like... waiting to him to get back or anything. But you miss him a whole lot when he’s gone and you can’t seem to get yourself going for any other boy that asks you. He comes home different. Quiet, haunted. When you overhear his momma say she’s scared he won’t come through it, you make it your personal mission to bring him back to life by whatever means necessary.

Pennywise x Reader (It, Welcome to Derry)

The Shape Of Us

Summary: Pennywise has been alone for a very long time, and that’s exactly how it should be. It’s easy to forget the cage when the prey is abundant. Which is why you moving in, with your too-loud vibration and your insatiable appetite pisses Pennywise off. Big time.

Sacrament Is You

Summary: Ducking into the sewer is never a great idea in Derry, but there’s a gang of nasty boys hot on your heels and you decide to take your chances. Running into the monstrous entity that haunts the town is less than ideal, until you discover it’s thirst for flesh mirrors your lust for revenge. If only you can keep it’s appetite from swallowing you whole. 

Tony Kiritsis x Reader (Dead Man's Wire)

The Boy Next Door

Summary: You don’t know much about Tony. You can hear him yelling at the radio sometimes through your shared wall, and he seems friendly enough if you pass him in the lobby. When you wake up tied to a bed in an apartment that mirrors your own, you realize you may have seriously underestimated your mild-mannered neighbor.

Dane x Reader (Naked Singularity)

Motivation COMING SOON

Summary: Dane is the public defender on your brother’s case and he’s… less than attentive. So you track him down at a bar after work and make sure he’ll never forget your name or the rewards coming to him if your brother goes free.

Bill Skarsgård x Reader (RPF)

The Blueprint

Summary: At your friend Eija's 21st birthday you come face to face with the first boy you ever kissed.

Nothing To Tell

Summary: FINALLY, a part II to The Blueprint. You’re invited to attend Eija’s parent’s anniversary party, and seeing Bill again has you reflecting on your first time.

Lust and Loathing in Los Angeles

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: You've landed your first real writing job, working with the pros. The problem? The lead actor, Bill Skarsgård, seems to hate you.

Bait and Switch

PART 1

Summary: SFX makeup artist by day, dominatrix by night. It’s whatever pays the bills frankly, and you’re good at compartmentalizing. That is until the bratty actor you’re working with finds your ad in the paper and books a session.

PART 2

Summary: You’re not looking for a BDSM relationship. You don’t need a daddy to keep you in line, and you prefer to take control in the bedroom too, thanks very much. Until a man steals your sandwich and takes you on the weirdest date of your life, that is.

After the Met

Summary: After accidentally snubbing a pretty reporter on the Met Gala red carpet, Bill gets a second chance at a first impression when he bumps into you outside the YSL afterparty.

Noise Complaint

Summary: You love your apartment. You love the city, and your job, and your crazy friends. You don't love your grouchy next door neighbor and all his goddamn whining.

Spun Sugar

Summary: You don't have the energy for love, and Bill doesn't have the time for commitment. Signing a contract and seeing the number in your bank account skyrocket is the best decision you ever made.

You’re Eye-fucking Me, Aren’t You? (Bill Skarsgård x Reader) COMING SOON

Summary: You’re a makeup artist working on The Crow, painstakingly applying Bill Skarsgård’s makeup for hours every day. It would be hard enough to focus just looking at him, but Bill seems determined to make your job a million times harder.

Babysitter

A little scrap of paper lands on your desk, and you flatten your palm over it reflexively before peeking at the handwriting through your fingers.

You look pretty when you’re concentrating.

You feel a smile threaten to tug at the corners of your mouth, and you press your lips into a hard line to stop it, knowing he’s watching you from across the room. You won’t give him the satisfaction, when you know he’s teasing.

“Mrs Blake! Mrs Blake, they’re passing notes.”

You freeze, your fingers curling around the offending paper on your desk as you lift your eyes and find half the class and your teacher staring at you.

“Is this true?”

You open your mouth, then close it again.

“I saw it. Martin threw a piece of paper to her, there was writing on it.”

“Simon,” Mrs Blake sighs. “It isn’t nice to tattle.”

Simon wrinkles his nose. “But passing notes is against the school code of conduct. Section four, paragraph three. Passing notes in class is disruptive to other students and disrespectful of your teacher’s time.”

“You’re such a fucking spaz,” Martin says, and Simon’s cheeks pink.

“That isn’t a nice word. And I’m not spastic, I don’t have any of the neurological conditions that cause involuntary muscle spasms. I have Aspergers Syndrome.”

“Martin, go to the principals office.” Mrs Blake sounds exasperated by everybody involved at this point. “You know that language isn’t acceptable.” She doesn’t demand he apologize to Simon, and you huff a quiet laugh under your breath.

“Nor is finding amusement in the misbehaviour of others.” She looks sternly at you, and you slink down in your seat.

“She should be sent to the principal as well.” Simon spares you the tiniest of glances before fixing his wide, unblinking green eyes on Mrs Blake again. “She broke the rules.”

“Why don’t you just-“

“That’s enough.” Mrs Blake raises her voice an octave, and you flinch. She never raises her voice, and you know with a sinking sense of dread that your squabbles with Simon have gone too far this time. “I’m sick of the two of you fighting like cats and dogs week in, week out. It’s time you learned to get along.”

“No,” you say.

“Impossible.” Simon says at the same moment.

Mrs Blake rolls her eyes. “Alright, everybody. Time for a little physics lesson. She walks back to her desk, plucking up two white and red magnetic blocks. Every magnet has a north and a south pole. Two like poles will repel each other,” she holds the red ends together, demonstrating the way they push each other away. “But opposites attract.” She presses the red end of one against the white end of the other, and the magnets snap together with a little click. “For our summer projects, I’m going to pair you with the person in the class I think most represents your opposite. I’ve gotten to know you all quite well over the course of the year, so I think I’m up to the task.”

There is a general ripple of grumbles around the room, but nobody dares to complain. Not with the smug smirk on Mrs Blake’s face, and the looming threat of being sent to the principal. She levels a finger at you, and you feel the dread settle heavy in your bones before she even opens her mouth. “Pack up your things. You’ll be sitting with Simon for the rest of the semester.”

*

“You’re kicking me.”

“I’m not.”

Simon makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “Yes, you are. Your foot is touching the leg of my stool, and every third kick it brushes my calf.”

“So?”

“So I want you to stop it.”

You huff, rolling your eyes as you cross your legs in the opposite direction. “You’re such a baby.”

“I’m not a baby. I was born 1990.”

“You’re always so goddamn literal.”

Simon’s brows furrow as he glares at you. “Of course I’m literal. Am I supposed to be figurative? Nothing you say makes sense.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and Simon wrinkles his nose as he leans as far away from you as he can get.

The assignment isn’t difficult; define natural selection, find an example in nature, and write a paper exploring it. The only thing making the project impossible was the thought of working with Simon. You drum your fingers against the desk as Simon runs his finger down the page on his textbook.

“You can’t possibly be reading that fast.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t be taking any of it in.”

“Yes, I am. I’m much smarter than you.”

You scoff, reaching for his book and yanking it out from under his hand. “Hey!”

Simon’s fingers close around your wrist, and you’re so shocked at the contact that you drop the book back to the desk with a clatter. “You’re touching me.”

Simon releases your hand so fast he almost topples off his stool. “No, I didn’t.” There’s a pretty pink blush creeping up over his face, and you feel your stomach do a little flip at how uncomfortable he looks. Serves him right, actually.

“Martin is going to be so mad at you for getting him in trouble.”

Simon shrugs, relieved you’ve changed the subject. His palm itches from where he’d pressed his hand to your skin, and there’s an unfamiliar churning low in his stomach that he doesn’t want to think about. “He broke the rules.”

You roll your eyes. “Always with the rules, Simon? You’re so boring.”

Simon flushes a deeper red, feeling a thickness in the back of his throat like he might cry. He hates that you have this effect on him. He’s hated it since the moment he met you, and he’s hated you almost as long because it’s easier to hate you than it is to address… whatever you make him feel. “It isn’t boring to be a good citizen. Rules keep us safe.”

He’s so condescending. He’s so condescending and he’s so smug. You look at the slight rounding of his shoulders, the way his perfectly combed hair sits against his forehead, the zipper on his hoodie done all the way up to the top, and you hate him. You want to push him off the stool. You want to run your fingers through his hair until he looks fucked.

Instead, you slide your hand off the desk and drop it onto his thigh. “Being safe isn’t fun, Simon.”

All his words leave his brain as all his blood rushes south. You’re touching him. You’re touching him there, just inches from the rapidly thickening length of his cock in his pants. He shifts underneath your hand, but you don’t move it. This is both a blessing and a curse, because if you wiggled just a little higher you’d feel his erection, which would be BAD. But if you won’t release his thigh, Simon won’t be able to stop his cock from throbbing with how badly it wants you to touch it.

Simon isn’t in the habit of referring to parts of himself as working outside of his consciousness, but he’ll make an exception for his cock because he really, really doesn’t understand it. Getting hard in Biology because you’re touching him is mortifying. It’s a betrayal of his intelligent, logically thinking mind. He grips the edge of the desk until his knuckles go white, taking short, shallow breaths in through his mouth.

“You look a little flustered.” You whisper, and Simon feels your breath on the side of his neck. It makes his skin crawl. It makes his cock throb.

“I’m not. I don’t like to be touched.”

You lean forward, dropping your eyes to the prominent jab of his cock against his jeans. “Liar.”

“I’m not a liar.” Simon’s face is so red its burning, he can hear the thunder of his heartbeat in his own ears as your fingers lift from his leg for a fraction of a second and then… press down into a squeeze.

The sound that comes out of Simon is another thing he won’t claim as a part of his consciousness, because it’s squeaky and embarrassing.

Your eyes widen, clit throbbing at the needy, slutty little moan he releases. “What did you say?”

“I…” Simon swallows, tongue licking over his lips as he tries desperately to string a sentence together. “I don’t like to be touched.”

You hum, dragging your palm over his thigh and up and… oh, no. Oh no, your fingers graze against the bulge in his pants and Simon’s nails dig so hard into the desk he leaves little crescent indents in the lacquer on the wood. “I think maybe you do.” You whisper, leaning in close enough for his hair to tickle the tip of your nose. “Or at least, you do by me. Isn’t that interesting?”

You withdraw your hand, leaning back on your stool and picking up your pen like nothing had happened, and Simon takes a full minute to recover his breathing enough to release the table from his grip. His fingers ache, and there’s a sensory nightmare of sticky precum damp in his boxers. “I think we should look at mimicry in butterflies.” You say conversationally. “The pattern on the Monarch is really-“

Simon almost falls off his seat in his haste to get away. He leaves his book open on the table, dipping to scoop his messenger bag from the floor before he bolts from the room. Mrs Blake turns to you, frowning. “What did you do?”

You shake your head and shrug, the picture of innocence, but something that might be guilt gnaws at your insides as you look at the empty seat beside you for the rest of the period.

As the bell rings to signal the end of the period, Simon is sitting in the library because it’s his safe place. On campus, at least, where he doesn’t have access to his spaceship or the familiar four walls of his bedroom. The books and the enforced silence of the library help to muffle the chaos a little bit, and the librarian doesn’t ever bother him or expect him to talk to her.

He’s erratic and panicky as he turns through the stacks, coming to rest in the astronomy section and picking a shelf at eye level. Simon runs his fingers over the spines of the books, reading the title and author of each one. The routine of it calms him down, he knows every book in this section by heart. He’s read them all over and over again.

He smells you before he sees you, and something icy twists in his stomach as he listens to the soft thud, thud of your footsteps. “Simon?”

“Go away.”

“I… we need to work on the project.” You’d meant to apologize. You really, really had, the words had been on the tip of your tongue but then you’d seen him and he’d told you to go away and the irritation that always flared up in his presence had surfaced.

“I don’t want to work with you. I will tell Mrs Blake to switch us.”

You lean against a bookshelf. “She won’t do it. Working with our… opposites is part of the project.”

“You’re not my opposite.”

“Yeah?” You push off from the shelf and close the distance between your body and his. Simon is much taller than you, all gangly awkward limbs. You poke him in the stomach, surprised at the hard press of muscle, and wonder what he might look like underneath his ill-fitting hoodie. “What am I, then?”

“You…” Simon swallows, eyes flicking to your mouth and lower, to the swell of your breasts against your shirt for a moment. “You’re annoying. You… you’re rude to me. You think you know everything but you don’t.”

You hum. “You think you know everything, Simon.” You walk your fingers up the closed zipper on the front of his hoodie, pinching the slider and dragging it down to reveal the soft cotton of his shirt beneath. “But you don’t.”

Simon’s brain is on fire. You’re too close, and there’s an insane impulsive part of him that wants to pull you closer. He presses himself back against the shelves, feeling the bite of the metal against his shoulders and his spine, but it does nothing to relieve the anxiety of feeling so trapped. “I don’t like you.”

You nod. “I don’t like you, either.”

Simon knows this. He doesn’t know why it stings to hear you say it out loud. “Viceroy butterflies evolved to resemble the visual patterns of the monarch, a toxic species.”  

“I don’t need Batesian mimicry explained to me, Simon. I picked the topic, remember?”

“I know. But did you know that recent studies have proven that it isn’t Batesian.”

You frown, releasing his zipper and taking a half step back. “What do you mean?”

Simon licks his lips, feeling the grounding calm of reason flooding through him as he recites the learned information. “Recent studies have shown that the viceroy butterfly is also toxic to predators. It isn’t a harmless species mimicking a toxic one. It’s just a different type of poison.”

“Müllerian mimicry, then,” you say quietly. “I didn’t know that.”

Simon feels emboldened by your retreat, and he takes a step forward, bracing his hand on the shelf beside your head and leaning in closer than he’s ever voluntarily been to anyone who wasn’t a blood relative. “You’re like the viceroy. Everybody thinks you’re harmless, but you aren’t. You’re dangerous and I’m the only one who sees it.”

With him leaning over you your eyes are almost level with his mouth, and you watch his plush, full lips form the words with a growing arousal coiling in your stomach. He’d never spoken to you like this. He’d never looked so… predatory. And for the first time ever you were noticing that Simon was actually kinda hot. Interesting.

*

“Shut up.”

Simon groans against your hand, his hips bucking helplessly as your thumb rubs mercilessly over the sticky head of his cock. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, watching as his pupils dilate and his tongue licks at the palm you have pressed over his lips to muffle his moans. Simon’s bedroom is weird. The red and blue outfit he wears to school every single day is only an extension of the rest of him, because everything in his room is red and blue too. There’s an oil drum in the middle of the room that he won’t talk about, and you aren’t really interested enough to care. Not with Simon’s cock in your hand. Not with the glassy look in his eyes.

It hadn’t been hard to get him to this point, once you’d decided to push his buttons. He was so tightly wound already, he’d been hard from the moment you sat on his bed and ran your fingers up the inside of his thigh. Your books lay forgotten on the floor, but that doesn’t matter either. You’d already written the assignment and would just add Simon’s contributions before submitting it.

Simon whimpers as you drag your slick thumb down over the ridges of his cock, gripping him hard at the base. “Shut up, Simon.”

Simon really tries to. He really tries to keep his mouth shut, but the feeling of your hand on his cock is both the best thing he’s ever experienced and the worst kind of overstimulation. His skin is on fire, electricity itching in his veins, but there’s a deep, throbbing pleasure radiating out from the point where you’re jerking your fist up and down his cock and he’s pretty sure he’ll cry if you stop.

Your breasts press against your shirt, the thin cotton of your bra and the thinner cotton of your shirt providing little padding. Simon can see the little stiff peaks of your nipples through the fabric, and his cock twitches in your palm at the sight. He’d imagined you. Another thing his conscious mind wouldn’t claim, of course, but he’d done it. Pictured your face, your breasts, the thick plushness of your thighs on the few occasions when he’d jerked off at night.

You remove your hand from him, and Simon makes a pitiful sound of protest as you lift your hand to your face and spit into your palm. “If I let you go, will you scream?”

Simon shakes his head, though he’s not actually sure he won’t. You remove your hand from his mouth, and he licks the salt of your sweat from his lips. It should be gross. It is gross. “Spitting is a dirty habit.”

You scoff, wrapping your saliva-slick hand around his cock and jerking his length with a brutal rhythm. “I’ll show you a dirty habit.”

Simon sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, hands fisting the sheets either side of his thighs desperately as his hips begin to fuck up into your fist. “I can’t-“

“Tell me about viceroy butterflies.”

Simon looks at you, a confused, irritated expression on his pretty face. “I’m not doing the project for you, you’ll have to go to the library and-ahhh,” he breaks off with a breathy groan as you squeeze and twist the head of his cock in your palm before increasing your pace on his shaft. “Vi-viceroy catepillars consume p-p-poisonous plants.”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, shuffling closer so you can lift your hand to brush his damp hair away from his sweaty forehead.

“But they don’t- ah,” he whimpers, hips lifting rapidly as his long fingers twist in the sheets. “They don’t get sick. They store the poison until they… transform.”

You lean in, brushing the tip of your nose against his shoulder. Simon smells like shampoo and fabric softener. It’s babyish, and your core throbs in response. “The picture of innocence.”

Simon sobs, his bottom lip wobbling as he desperately tries to stave off his orgasm. It’s not that he’s enjoying this, not exactly. But the thought of coming like this, of spilling white and sticky over your hand and his thighs… it makes him sick. He’d never live such a thing down.

“Until they… they store it until they…” Simon chews his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down hard enough to taste the metal of his blood as he watches your fist become a blur against his cock. His precum and your spit glisten on your fingers, and Simon’s stomach rolls over as the coil in his lower abdomen winds tighter and tighter.

“Until they’re consumed,” you whisper. You cup his jaw, turning his head and coaxing his mouth to yours so you can press your lips against his. Simon’s mouth is just as soft and warm and lovely as you’d expected, and he whines against your tongue as his release washes through him.

Simon’s hips jerk up violently as you suck his tongue into your mouth and bite down on the sensitive flesh. He can taste your gum, and it’s the best and the worst thing he’s ever felt. But then his cock is spurting thick ropes of cum and he feels the splashes against his thighs. You begin to pull away, and Simon can’t let you see what he did. His hands lift from the sheets and tangle in your hair instead, the soft strands looping easily around his fingers as he holds you close and massages your lips with his own.

The hand on his cock slows down, stroking him carefully through the aftershocks of his orgasm, and you sigh into his mouth. His cum is cooling on your fingers, and you release his cock with a parting squeeze before pulling away from the kiss to examine the slick dripping off your knuckles. “Well.”

“Don’t.” Simon says softly. His face is pink, his expression pained.

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

He swallows, tucking his softening, sensitive cock back into his underpants and lifting his hips to pull his jeans back up. “I do. That I shouldn’t have done that. Made the mess.”

You tilt your head to the side. “I liked that, Simon. Don’t get me wrong, you’re the most infuriating know-it-all on the planet. But I liked that. I liked touching you. I liked making you cum.”

Simon groans, squeezing his eyes shut as you bring your fingers to your mouth and lick his cum from them one by one. “Shut up.”

You huff a laugh, reaching out to ruffle his hair aggressively. Simon yelps, shuffling away from you and further back onto the bed. “Stop it! Why did you do that?”

You shrug. “I just always wanted to, I guess.”

Simon shakes his head, shifting uncomfortably with the cum drying on his thighs and the awful sparkle in your eye. “I don’t like to be touched.”

You crawl onto the bed, and Simon’s thighs part automatically as you settle between his legs. “I think maybe you do.” You whisper, leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle the tip of your nose. “Or at least, you do by me. Isn’t that interesting?”

The doctor steeples his fingers against the closed folder Roman had pushed across the desk. “Miscellaneous expenses. Things cost money, Roman. More money than expected, sometimes. Not a concept I’d expect you to have much understanding of, considering your personal financial background.”

“Get to the goddamn point, Pryce.”

“The point, Mr Godfrey, is that we do not all have the luxury of a trust fund. Some of us need to have contingencies in place to avoid unnecessary delays in the acquisition of vital supplies.”

“What’s the Morpheus project?”

The polite smile on Pryce’s face drops, his eyes slipping to either side. To the suited men with stern faces sitting around the table. He looks back at the smug, jumped up prick masquerading as his CEO, and sighs. “One of our more… interesting projects. We’re working on a treatment for one of the most common and troublesome ailments plaguing mankind. The humble insomnia. With around 35% of the US population experiencing bouts of the condition, a treatment would be… wildly profitable.”

This is the word the men at the table need in order to switch off, nodding and humming and shuffling their papers.

Roman’s expression tightens. “Then you won’t mind showing me, will you?”

“You’re going to be just fine.” Dr Blinksy offers you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and you swallow. You don’t believe him, but you don’t much care either way anymore. You’re so unbelievably tired. Tired of sleepless nights, of jolting out of drowsiness with your heart hammering against your ribs and your sheets soaked in sweat. Tired of jumping at the creak of the door or the sound of the wind. Tired of living with an intolerable level of anxiety that never, ever lets up.

“Sure.” You close your eyes and let the rhythmic beeping of the machine you’re hooked up to lull you into sleep. Unconsciousness comes easy enough, with how exhausted you are, but your dreams are plagued by the shivering shape of him, just in the edges of your vision.

“Go away!” You call out. Your lips part around the silent words, your eyes flickering behind your lids as the digital display reading your brain lights up. His shadow thickens, solidifying as he steps into the light, and you drop to your knees and scream.

“That one.” Roman presses his fingers to the glass, eyes fixed to the body tossing and turning on the narrow hospital bed. “What’s wrong with her?”

Pryce pulls your details up on his tablet. “The patient believes she’s being haunted by a ghost or an entity of some sort. It’s affected her sleep and severely limited her ability to engage in every day activities.”

Roman tilts his head to the side, observing the pinched look on your face and the way you your fingers curl and uncurl in the sheet. “You think she’s got a ghost problem?”

Pryce scoffs. “An interesting thought, but no. I think sleep deprivation and an undiagnosed psychotic condition has lead her to some very vivid hallucinations. The important thing is that she certainly believes it. That’s what we’re interested in here. In locating and isolating the source of her cerebral overactivity so we can determine a way to… neutralise it.”

“She looks like she’s in pain. Or like she’s getting fucked.”

Pryce presses his lips together to avoid grimacing. “I suppose to you there’s little difference in the two.”

Roman knows he’s being goaded, but he lets the words roll off him. He’s fixed on you, on how your lips part around soft moans as whatever you’re dreaming about consumes you completely. “What’s she saying?”

Pryce sighs, pressing a few buttons on the keypad beside the door. Your voice fills the room, filtering out of the speakers above. Not words, just sweet little whimpers and sobs. Roman feels his cock stiffen at the sound, and he wonders whether you’d replicate those same pretty noises with his tongue in your cunt.

“Are you making progress?”

“Baby steps, Roman.” Pryce says carefully. “We’re just compiling research at this stage. She’s one of a dozen subjects we have with us at the moment, and we’ll need several more rounds to gather enough data to start looking at patterns in-“

“With her. Are you making progress with her?”

Pryce blinks, assessing the situation from a new angle. Roman Godfrey was unpredictable. He was a wild card, a loose cannon and a general pain in everybody’s ass. But with his child in the wind and Shelley out of reach, the young CEO needed something to distract him. Watching Roman watch you, Johan makes a decision. A sacrifice, for the greater good. “I don’t think we’ll be able to do anything for her. I’ll likely dismiss her in the morning.”

Roman runs his fingers down the glass, the friction leaving a squeak against the surface. “I’ll tell her. I mean, it’s my company. Should come from me.”

Pryce has dismissed about a thousand unsuitable subjects from his trials over the years, and Roman hasn’t so much as glanced at the paperwork. But for you, he’d make an exception. To see your eyes open, to hear what your voice sounded like when you said his name.

“I don’t… understand, Mr Godfrey.” You twist your hands in your lap, a nervous gesture that had developed along with several other tics to cope with your anxiety. “Did I do something wrong?”

Roman shakes his head, pushing out of his seat to step around his desk. He sinks into a crouch beside your chair, and you chew your bottom lip into your mouth as you stare at your knees. “Dr Pryce doesn’t think he can help you anymore. He’s a prick.”

Your eyes lift at that, and Roman feels a fluttering in his chest at just how pretty they are. “It was a long shot.” You sigh, untangling your fingers and lifting a hand to brush through your hair. Roman catches the scent of your shampoo, something warm and clean, and he licks over his bottom lip like he might be able to taste you on the air.

“He’s a prick.” Roman repeats.

“He tried.” You swallow, shaking your head as the absurd urge to cry stings your eyes. “It was stupid to get my hopes up.”

Roman should let you walk out of here. He should let your crazy ass leave and go back to running the shit out of his damned company. “I might be able to help you.”

Roman can’t bring himself to regret the words when your face lights up and you brush tears from your cheeks with shaking fingers. “Really?”

He watches you wipe your fingers on your jeans with regret, imagining how fucking good your tears would have tasted if he’d grabbed your hand and sucked your fingers into his mouth. “I know a thing or two about… you know. The supernatural.”

It’s the understatement of the fucking century, since Roman himself is the supernatural, but that part doesn’t matter. Destiny Rumancek will have a book, and if she doesn’t there are a dozen other witches he could try in the city. Hell, he could hit up the local church if he gets really stuck.

“You’d… I mean you’re a busy man, Mr Godfrey.”

Roman drops his hand to your knee and you jump. “Roman.” He says softly. “Call me Roman. And I wanna help you. Wanna do some good.”

It isn’t completely a lie, even if Roman’s cock is stirring to life in his pants at the pink tinge under your skin and your wide, watery eyes.

*

Roman’s thumbing through the book, wrinkling his nose at the musty smell of the yellowed pages when his phone rings.

“Tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”

Roman hums. “I’m not jerking off right now. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Destiny makes a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “Why am I hearing that you bought a demonology book from the wiccan store downtown.”

“Why does Hemlock Grove even have a wiccan store? I think that’s a more pertinent question.”

“Roman.”

“Destiny.” He mimics her tone. “Peter told you?”

“He’s worried about you. And now I am too. I mean, what do you really know about this girl?”

“She’s haunted by a ghost or something.” Roman shrugs, though Destiny can’t see him. “And she’s fucking hot.”

“There it is.” She sighs heavily into the receiver. “Look, if she’s really possessed by something, you’re out of your depth, Roman. Bring her to me.”

Roman considers it. He’d considered it right away, actually. But then he’d have to share you, and both Rumancek cousins were roguish little sluts and Roman doesn’t want the competition. Not when a small but very vocal voice in the back of his head is telling him that he wouldn’t win, anyway.

There’s a knock at the door, and Roman runs a hand through his hair as he crosses to answer it. “I gotta go, she’s here. Don’t call me again unless you wanna hear her screaming my name.”

Destiny starts to say something, probably something hateful and entirely untrue regarding the size and scope of Roman’s cock, when he ends the call and shoves his phone into his pocket.

You’re standing on the front step, looking small and scared. Your knees actually shake, and Roman feels a pang of protectiveness wash over him as he steps aside and invites you into his house.

You take a seat on the wide leather couch, barely making a dent in the surface like you’re terrified to take up space. “Nervous?”

You bite your lip and nod. “He… it gets angry. It’s dangerous.”

Roman feels a little skitter of fear at the absolute dread in your voice. If you’re faking it, you’re a damned good actress.

“He? You said he.”

You sigh, lifting a hand to rake back through your hair. “I think it… I mean I don’t know. I’ve never actually seen… whatever it is. But three years ago my ex-boyfriend died.”

Roman takes a seat beside you on the couch, extending his arm along the back of the couch. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Your voice takes on a hard edge, harsher than he’d ever heard it. “He wasn’t a nice guy. The night he died he was coming to my house. To force me to reconsider the split. To… teach me a lesson.” You tangle your fingers together in your lap again, squeezing the digits bloodless. “He taught me lessons a lot.”

Roman’s stomach flips over at the ugly thought of it. “How’d he die?”

“Car accident.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “I didn’t cry when they told me. I didn’t go to his funeral or anything.”

Roman shuffles closer, closer than he even means to. “No one could blame you for that.”

You look up at him with grateful, wet eyes, and Roman’s heart skitters over a beat. This isn’t what he thought was going to happen. You’re not what he thought you were. And the wide-open sincerity in your face has him believing you, actually.

“Things started to… happen about six months later. I went on a date with a guy from one of my classes. It was all fine, we were having a good time. And then his coffee just tipped over, spilling right into his lap. He asked if I’d kicked the table or something and I swear I hadn’t. I don’t know if he believed me. Then when we were leaving, he held the door open for me and it just slammed shut on his hand. Broke three of his fingers. I said it must have been the wind, but there wasn’t so much as a breeze. He didn’t call me again after that.” You laugh bitterly. “Not that I expected him to.”

“So you think you’re being… haunted? By your exes ghost.”

“I know.” You mumble, cheeks staining a deeper shade. “I know how it sounds.”

“Sounds lonely.”

Your head snaps up, and you shuffle closer to him. Nobody has ever come so close to believing you before. You’d heard stories about Roman Godfrey, none of them good. But the man sitting across from you on the couch, the man who had taken an interest in helping you and invited himself into your life… well he didn’t seem so bad. He seemed good, in fact.

“It is.” You whisper. “Anytime someone tries to get close… he makes them leave.”

Roman knows something about people leaving. About people seeing the baggage and deciding he isn’t worth the hassle. “Maybe we should make him leave then, huh?”

You huff a laugh. “I’d try anything.” You lick over your lips, bracing a shaking hand on Roman’s thigh. “Anything.”

The plan doesn’t come together so much as unravel. Roman’s cock is stirring because he’s desperate and he’s sick and your fear is turning him on. But the plan makes sense, now he knows what you’re dealing with. “We have to piss him off.”

You’d tilted your head to the side, looking bewildered and cute, and Roman had almost lost it. “What do you mean? He’s always mad.”

“He gets worse when you’re with a guy, right? Like, stronger? Makes his presence known?”

You nod, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth for a moment. “Not just… any guy.”

“No, I know.” Roman says, his lips curling into a smirk. “But maybe we could recreate the… specific circumstances.” If you’re right, the ex will manifest himself and Roman will be able to add poltergeist to his growing collection of personal curiosities. If you’re batshit crazy, at least he’ll get laid. It’s a win-win situation, far as Roman can see it.

“You’d do that for me?”  Your voice is low and breathy, and Roman’s cock twitches visibly as it strains against the front of his pants. He twists a single, fat lock of hair back into place and off his forehead, eyes dropping to your mouth.

“Like kissing a pretty girl is a sacrifice for me? Of course I’d do it for you. For you, to you… with you.” He leans in, brushing his mouth against yours, and you exhale shakily against his lips. Your breath tingles on his mouth, and Roman presses his lips more firmly to yours as his hands lift to cup your jaw and hold you closer.

His tongue licks into your mouth and you moan softly, little jolts of arousal pulsing through you at the wet, rough caress of his tongue against yours. You close your eyes, drowning in the sensation of his strong hands on your face. You don’t notice the lights flickering, but Roman does.

He drops one hand from your face to your waist, caressing the skin over your ribs before walking his fingers up to curl around the curve of one breast.

You’re still making pretty little sounds, the wet smack of your lips on his sending him half crazy as he focuses on the flickering lamp on the table beside you. You pull away from the kiss, pecking his lips over and over as Roman cups your breast more fully. “I don’t think it’s working.”

Roman shakes his head, using his free hand to press lightly against your shoulder and guide you back against the couch. “The lights are flickering. It’s working. Maybe we need to give him a little more.”

You blow a breath out through your mouth slowly, feeling your heart accelerate. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Roman.”

Roman crawls over you, pressing his thigh firmly between your legs as he dips his head to press open-mouthed kisses over your throat. “I’m willing to take the risk.”

You moan quietly at the feeling of his thigh grinding against your core, and your hips begin to shift in time, rocking you against the rough denim of his jeans. There’s a whooshing sound, and Roman ducks just in time to avoid a braining as a vase is launched over the couch to shatter against the kitchen island on the other side of the room.

Your eyes fly wide and you try to rise, pulling yourself up against his shirt, but Roman eases your hands out of the fabric and pins them above your head. “It’s working. He’s getting pissed now.”

“He broke something.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Roman soothes, pressing his weight into your wrists as he lowers over your body and ruts his hard bulge against your center. “It’s just stuff.”

Tears are pooling in your eyes, and Roman dips his head to lick at the trails as they break free and run into your hairline. “How do we get him to go away?” You whisper, heat aching in your core at the feeling of his tongue on your skin.

“That comes later. Need him even more pissed off first.” Roman mumbles, his free hand pushing between your bodies to undo the button on the front of your pants. “Need to get him blind with it.”

You moan as Roman pushes his fingers into your underwear, the long digits probing against your wet folds as he searches for your clit. You gasp when he finds it, pinching the sensitive bud between two fingers and encouraging it to swell under his expert touch.

You focus on the building sensation as the coil in your stomach winds tighter. Roman isn’t looking at you, and that makes it easier. Because you know your face will be scrunching up with the pleasure. Your ex used to say it made you look ugly, and you’d hate for Roman to see that. You’d hate for him to see that and stop and decide you’re not worth the hassle. His fingers are working circles against your clit almost absently as he scans the room. There’s a flicker of something in his periphery vision, and Roman stretches his fingers to push his middle inside you. You gasp, spine arching into him, and Roman lets out a satisfied hum at the tight, wet heat of you clenching around him. “You’re going to feel so good on my cock,” he coos, pumping his finger in and out of you. “I’ll fuck you better than anyone else ever has.”

You know he’s baiting the ghost, but your body reacts as though this is all for you anyway. You moan, grinding helplessly down against his hand as his finger curls inside you.

“He never…” you gasp, panting hard. “He never… I never c-came with him,” you gasp. Roman stills his hand for a moment, looking down at you with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Never?”

“He didn’t… care about whether I did or not.” You lick your lips self-consciously.

Roman scoffs, pulling his hand out of your underwear and sitting back to suck your arousal from his fingers. “Well that’s fucking bullshit. He lifts his head, glaring at his own reflection in the wide expanse of black glass lining the wall. “You hear me? That’s fucking bullshit, man.”

The lamp on the table beside the couch explodes, plunging the room into darkness.

You scream, and Roman drops his body protectively over yours. You feel his cock twitch against your stomach and it sends a bolt of adrenaline-laced arousal through you. “You okay?”

Roman looks down at you, lips pulling to the side in a lopsided smirk. “I’m gunna make you cum. I think that’ll get this piece of shit to show himself.”

You swallow thickly. “I don’t know if I can, Roman.”

Roman frowns. “You don’t want it?” He rolls his hips down against you.

“No! I mean,” you sigh, “he told me I was… broken. That I couldn’t do it.”

Roman feels an uncomfortable twisting in his stomach at how sad and small your voice is.

He dips his face low, nuzzling his nose against yours. “That’s bullshit, okay? Let me show you it’s bullshit.”

You tilt your chin up to connect your mouth to his, sucking his plump bottom lip against your teeth, and Roman groans low in his throat as his cock leaks precum into his boxers. “Okay,” you whisper against his lips. “Okay, Roman.”

Roman sits back on his heels, brushing his hair away from his forehead as he tugs your pants down. You have to twist your feet so he can pull them off completely, and a little bubble of embarrassed laughter spills from your lips. Roman grins, catching your wriggling foot and pressing his lips to your ankle. “Just relax. It’s just me and you here, right?” He looks around the room. “Nothing else.”

You hum as he trails kisses up the inside of your leg, his hand splaying wide over your inner thigh to stop you from closing him out as he licks the damp patch on the front of your panties. You whimper, covering your own mouth with your palm to stifle the sounds.

“Don’t do that.” You look down to meet Roman’s hungry green eyes. “I want to hear you.”

You nod, biting harshly on your lip as Roman’s mouth returns to suck against your covered core. His eyes remain fixed on yours, and the intensity in them makes your clit throb with how much you need him to touch you. “Please, Roman,” you whisper. “I need…”

Roman pulls back enough to hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties, peeling them away from your soaked center. You glisten before him, the room lit only by the light coming from the upstairs hallway. He wishes he could see you better so he could catalogue every minute expression on your face as he unravels you against his mouth, but he’ll settle for the little gasps and moans you make and the hot, wet slick of your arousal pooling on the couch under your ass.

Roman’s eyes flicker closed at the taste of you the moment he presses the flat expanse of his tongue against your clit. You pulse and quiver, so alive and vibrant and rich that Roman thinks he might cum just from this. Just from the drag of his cock against the couch and the taste of you drowning out everything else.

There’s an awful sound, more smashing from the kitchen, and you turn your head and reach down to push against Roman’s shoulders. Roman grunts a warning, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pinning you against his mouth. “Roman something is- happening-“ you gasp the words between shaky moans as Roman’s tongue pushes inside the tightness of you, his nose nuzzling sharply against your clit as he probes against your sensitive walls.

His hair is damp with sweat and hangs in his face, a little too long to stay styled when he’s so wrecked. Your fingers twist in the luxury, thick fabric of his sweater and you wonder what he looks like underneath the sensible layers.

There’s another crash, and Roman does look up then. His expensive wine bottles are smashing against the tiles in the kitchen, one by one. Like the piece of shit is taunting him. Luring him away from you. “Roman,” you whisper. “We should stop. He’s going to break all your-“

“I have a wine cellar with a hundred bottles better than those.” Roman says, dipping his head to lick a slow stripe up from your entrance to your clit. “I’m not gunna let you go until you’ve cum on my face. Let him throw his supernatural fucking tantrum about it.”

Your eyes roll back and your head drops to the couch as Roman’s finger snake up the inside of your thigh and push into you, curling back against the sensitive, spongy spot inside you as he flicks his tongue against your clit. “God, oh, Godddd,” you moan, hips lifting to meet his face as you grind against his mouth. “I think I’m-“ you break off with a high-pitched cry as your release washes through you, curling your toes and whiting out your vision as you jerk and writhe against the insistent press of Roman’s tongue and the in and out of his fingers.

Your head rolls to the side in the aftershocks, and your heart stops at the shimmering, almost corporal form hovering just beside the couch. “ROMAN!” You shriek, and Roman turns his head. He knows what he’s going to see, considering the sheer terror on your face, but the sight of the apparition still takes him a little by surprise.

“Fuck you, Casper.” He spits, pulling his hard cock from his jeans and dropping over you again. “You wanna terrorize her? Didn’t get enough of that when you were alive?”

He pushes into you, and you moan and clench around the intrusion even as your eyes roll wildly back and forth between the living, breathing man on top of you and the dead shadow of hatred shivering just to the side.

“He’ll… stop,” you sob. Roman doesn’t. He pulls half out and pushes back in, and the shape on the edge of the couch seems to thicken, swirling like smoke.

“You’re okay,” Roman whispers, dropping to kiss your lips just once before pushing back up. He hooks his arms around your thighs and presses you back, fucking you hard into the couch. At this angle the head of his cock bumps your cervix, and you let out a low whine. “I’ve got you. Just me.”

You nod, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you whimper. Your hands reach up to wrap around his neck, tickling at the hair tucked into his collar, and Roman hums.

“Has anyone else… since him?” He asks, his breathing becoming labored with the force of his thrusts.

“No,” you whisper, fluttering your muscles around his cock just to watch his face contort with the pleasure of it. “You’re the first.”

Roman smiles, a faint dusting of pink spreading across his cheeks. “I’m claiming you.” He turns his head then, watching with clinical fascination as the shape solidifies into something more strongly resembling a body. “She’s mine. You’re not welcome in her space, or in her anymore. She’s mine.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, terrified to watch and terrified that Roman has badly misjudged the danger of the situation. Because there’s no way it’s that simple. It just can’t be.

The smoke leaks onto the couch, wrapping around Roman’s throat, and his eyes bulge wide. “Shit, shit!” You squeak, wriggling out from underneath him and trying uselessly to pry the smoke from his neck. “Shit, go away! You’re banished, you’re nothing! Leave him alone!”

The smoke leeches away from Roman, crawling up your thighs and caressing against your bare core in a hideous mimicry of a touch. “Did he give you anything?” Roman asks, his voice rising in pitch along with his panic as the smoke wraps possessively around your legs.

“Aside from trauma?”

“Yeah. I mean, a gift. Did he ever give you anything that-“

Roman cuts himself off as his eyes drop to a thin, gold chain at your throat. “Tell me that’s not from him.”

Your hand flies to your throat, to the tarnished, cheap heart pendant resting against your sternum. “Oh god.”

“Give it to me!” He shouts, reaching across to snatch it from your neck. The thin chain snaps under the pressure, and Roman rummages in his jeans for his lighter before holding it to the cheap pendant.

Metal shouldn’t catch the way the pendant does. Within seconds, Roman’s holding a rope of pure fire, and he drops it on the floor with a hiss as his skin is singed. The smoke seems to shudder, vibrating back into the convulsing shape of a man before it, too, catches alight.

You stare in wide-eyed horror as the apparition that had been haunting you for more than two years burns up into nothing.

The silence in the wake of it is deafening. Roman sucks his fingers into his mouth, nursing the hurt, and you move mechanically to pry them from his mouth and inspect the damage. There are blisters already forming, but the burns are superficial.

“How did you know to do that?” You ask quietly. You think you might go mad if you raise your voice.

“Supernatural.”

“What?”

“I watched that fuckin show. Supernatural. With the two brothers who hunt demons and shit.”

You blink at Roman. “You’re kidding.”

Roman shrugs, dropping his head back against the couch. “Was worth a shot.”

“What…” You blink at him, feeling a surge of actual rage flush through you. It’s unfamiliar, but you welcome it. You welcome anything that isn’t the low-level haze of anxiety you’d been living through since the arrival of your ghost. “What was the plan if it hadn’t worked?”

Roman rolls his head to look at you. “I don’t know. Keep giving you orgasms until he got bored, I guess.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “That… I mean… he wouldn’t have just-“ You cut yourself off with a frustrated growl, climbing into Roman’s lap and impaling yourself on his cock. He’s still hard despite almost being murdered by a malevolent supernatural entity, and you wonder what exactly that says about his mental state as you rock back and forth on his cock.

“Shit.” Roman huffs, hands dropping to your hips to help you set a rhythm. “Oh shit.”

You flutter your muscles around him, gripping his cock hard in your tight, wet heat, and Roman’s head drops back again, exposing the pale expanse of his throat. You lean in, pecking kisses up his neck and nipping at the sharp line of his jaw, and Roman moans as his cock twitches inside you.

“Thank you, Roman.” You purr into his ear. “You saved my life tonight. You… you have no idea,” you push up on your knees and drop back down heavily, sending a bolt of pleasure through you at the hard thrust of his cock so deep inside you. “No idea how grateful I am.”

Roman whimpers, fingers digging harshly into your hips. “I have some idea.”

“No,” you mumble, swiveling your hips to massage his cock against your walls as you reach a hand up to tug at the loose hair falling over his forehead. “You’ve… released me.” You lean in, your sensitive nipples chafing against his sweater as you lick into his mouth. “You set me free.”

Roman feels you whisper the words against his mouth, and his cock twitches hard inside you once, twice before he cums, spilling thickly against your cervix and filling you up as you flutter around him. You’re so dominant all of a sudden, like exorcising the ghost has burned away the fragility Roman had been so drawn to. And whilst he’ll miss the mousy little girl who blushed at his touch, he can’t bring himself to mourn too hard. Not when you’re riding him like a pro, your fingers in his hair and your teeth biting at his lips like you’re so desperate for him you can’t stop.

You moan throatily, grinding your clit against his pubic bone as you writhe in his lap, and Roman decides that this is better, this is so much better than before. Even if you’re possessed by a hunger he can’t keep up with. Even if you’re a new kind of demon intent on sucking his soul out through his cock. He’ll learn to keep up. He’ll learn to keep you fed. He’ll embrace this haunting like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, actually.