alicedopey

[alicedopey]

I won’t lie, I have been eagerly waiting for this since you mentioned the idea. Older readers fics are so rare, even more so with the fiery Johnny Storm so thank you for that.

Speaking of fiery, I admit I snorted when reader dies over his website. It was so tacky of him 🤣 but when she met him….phew, it became hot 🥵.

This man definitely knows how to seduce a woman and make her feel attractive and wanted. Reader surely needed this after being left then replaced by a younger woman.

Now I’m certain Johnny is gonna offer her the wildest night of her life and I can’t wait to find out how it’s gonna go. More than that, I’m even more impatient to find out how the « after » will turn. Will the reader start getting addicted to sex with him and the way it brings her some confidence ? Will Johnny get addicted ? For money first then afterwards…something else. Oh I would love to know what’s going on in his head, what he really thinks of her….

Anyways great work !

Giving Me a Thrill

Pairing: Sex worker!Johnny Storm x 40s something female!reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: A few years after your divorce, a friend gives you a nudge to try something new.

Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, insecurity, me being a giant tease

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: And here it is! My first entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 's Cum Together 2024 event!! The prompt I used was "Tell me your favorite way to cum so I can satisfy you the way you deserve.” This was so fun! Thank you so much for hosting this event Siri and Bella!!!

This was my first time writing Johnny! And I definitely got a little in my head about the whole thing. So please let me know what you think! I love being screached at in reblogs or asks! So come say hi!

Thanks for reading, dears! 💜

“It’s been three years,” she said from over the brim of her mimosa.

“Yes, Heather, thank you, I know exactly how long it’s been,” you said as you took a desperate gulp of your bloody mary. Three years, two months, and five days since he’d left. Two years, 4 months, and some change since the divorce had been finalized. About eighteen months since you’d seen him. Three days since he’d messaged you. But you were fine. You were doing fine.

“They’ve been married for over a year, you know? They just got back from Cancun, he was telling Dave all about it.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?” You asked tersely. This brunch had taken a turn you didn’t appreciate. You just wanted to get day-drunk with your friend and now it was this.

“I just,” she sighed. “I think it’s really unfair that he gets to be happy, while you’re…”

“While I’m what?” you challenged, draining your drink.

She looked at you thoughtfully. “Paused,” she finally said.

“I am not paused!”

She reached across the table and put a gentle hand on top of yours. “You are, babe.”

You weren’t paused. You were just… focusing on work right now. And taking a breather. A three-year breather. That was all. 

Heather was still looking at you, her face serious for how tipsy she’d been just a few moments earlier. “I just– you retreated inside yourself when it happened. And I kept thinking you just needed time to come back out, to get back to your old self, but… It’s been three years.”

You looked down, unable to bear her scrutiny anymore. “I’m not sure the old me exists anymore,” you said quietly.

“Ok, that’s ok. But then maybe– maybe it’s time to discover someone new.” You looked up when you heard her rifling around in her bag. “I’ve been carrying this around for weeks, trying to build up the courage to give it to you. Just keep an open mind, ok?”

She reached across the table to hand you a business card. It was black with flames in the background and in white script the name Johnny Storm with a url underneath. You snorted. “Johnny Storm? That’s definitely a fake name.”

Heather nodded. “Yeah, probably.” She took a long drink of her mimosa, then, “He’s an escort.”

“What??” you said, much too loud. Then, trying to get a hold of yourself, you whisper-hissed, “You think the solution to all my problems is to hire a sex worker???” 

“Uh, yeah,” she said. “I kind of do.”

You threw up your hands. She had to be much drunker than you thought to think this was a good idea.

“I just think you need someone to help you rediscover your power.”

You scoffed. “What power?”

“Yeah,” she nodded sadly, “exactly. Just, promise me you’ll look at his website, ok? And really think about it.”

“Fine, I’ll take a look,” you said as you slipped the card into your wallet, knowing you’d do no such thing.

It wasn’t until a week later that you even thought of it again. You were getting out your credit card to pay for groceries when the edge of a flame on the business card, tucked into the last slot in your wallet, caught your attention. You didn’t do anything about it at the time, but then it just stayed in your head all day. 

That night, with a glass of wine in hand, you sat at your computer and opened up an incognito tab. “This is so stupid,” you muttered to yourself as you typed in the URL. The front page opened to animated flames with moving text that said The Human Torch. Oh my god. This was so stupid. 

You navigated to the photo gallery and– oh. It was just as dumb as the landing page. A tall man, not a day over twenty-four, with buzzed hair doing dumb macho poses in a series of shirtless costumes – firefighter, mechanic, trucker, or something? It was ridiculous. But. There were abs. For miles. Broad shoulders. Cheekbones that could cut glass. And most of all, the most piercing blue eyes you’d ever seen. Photoshopped. They had to be. But still, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The want was starting to build in you in a way you hadn’t felt in years. You poured yourself another glass of wine.

A week later found you pacing outside a fancy hotel bar downtown. Your phone was clutched tightly in your hand and you felt the hotel room keycard burning a hole in your purse. You silently cursed Heather. This was so stupid. This was such a mistake. But you were already here. You already had the room. A voice in your head told you not to back down now. So you took a deep breath and went inside.

He was already there, leaning against the bar, chatting with the bartender. She was his age and very pretty, in a way that seemed effortless. Soft and sweet. He smiled at her, laughing at something she’d said and it made you feel even more out of place than you already had. Your dress was too tight, pulled out of the back of your closet. Something you hadn’t touched in years. Probably too young on you now. It must make you look even older. Even more desperate. Sad.

You pushed yourself forward and sidled up next to him at the bar, interrupting their conversation. You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Uh, Johnny? Hi,” you said and gave your name.

He turned to you and gave you the most blatant once-over you’d ever received. After trailing his gaze all over your body and pausing significantly on your chest, he finally brought his eyes up to yours with a broad, pleased smile. “Hi,” he said, his eyes sparkling, and oh shit, they hadn’t been photoshopped. “Should we get a drink?”

All you could do was nod, so he turned back to the bartender and ordered two glasses of champagne. She glanced at both of you and you knew that it must be so clear what was happening here. But she didn’t say anything, just turned to get your drinks.

While you waited, you took a moment to take him in. He was wearing dark jeans and a sport coat over a collared shirt, but it was a little askew. His shoulders seemed even more broad in person. The whole thing was kind of unkempt but good. He looked very good. 

His hair was a little longer, a little darker than it’d been in the pictures. You had a sudden, sharp thought of what it might feel like to take it into your hands and tug. You blinked, hard, trying to come back to yourself, the present moment. Once you did, you found him holding both glasses of champagne and smirking at you.

“Let’s go sit down,” he said, handing you a glass. He slowly placed one hand on your lower back, his fingers fanning out to touch as much as he could. You stifled a gasp as heat spread from his fingers through your entire core. When was the last time you’d been touched like that?

He guided you to a secluded table in the corner, pulling out your chair before seating himself across from you. “How are you?” he asked and you wondered if that smirk on his face was permanent. 

You took a sip of your drink. “I’m good,” you said dumbly, feeling so off-balanced. “How are you?”

The smirk got bigger. “I’m great. Excited for tonight.”

You stopped yourself from snorting. Sure. Excited for the paycheck probably. 

He seemed to expect you to say something else. When you didn’t, he leaned forward. “Tell me a little about yourself. What you want from tonight.”

“Oh,” you said, wracking your brain for words, caught under his gaze. “Um, I don’t know. I’m not that interesting, I don’t think. Probably about twenty years older than you, so that’s something,” you chuckled softly, embarrassed. “And, I mean, sex, right? Isn’t that what everyone wants from this sort of thing.”

He smiled softly and shook his head lightly. “Not necessarily,” was all he said.

“Oh, uh, well. How about you? How did you get into this?” you asked and then immediately regretted it. You felt incredibly rude. It was none of your business.

But Johnny just shrugged good-naturedly. “I like women,” he said with a grin. “And sex is fun.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“You don’t take anything seriously, do you?” you asked, slightly in awe of it. What it might be like to live that way, to not care about everything so fucking much. How freeing that must feel. It was a young person’s game, you thought. Maybe you’d felt like that too, when you were his age.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’ just a little. He looked at you carefully. “But not you, huh? You take everything seriously. I can tell.” 

“Yeah?” you asked, a little defensive sarcasm sneaking into your tone. “Is it all my burgeoning wrinkles?”

His eyes swept over your face. “No,” he said firmly. “You know it’s not.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, but then, “My friend says I’m paused,” you said, out of nowhere. You had no idea what you were doing but under his watchful eyes, that were still playful but now taking on something else that you couldn’t quite identify, you couldn’t stop talking. “She says that after the divorce, I just stopped. Curled up inside myself and never came back out.”

“Is that what happened?” he asked lowly.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, honestly. “Maybe. We met in college, you know? He was the second person I’d ever slept with. Everything I built, I built with him. When he left, the uh, the new woman, she was younger, prettier. And now they’re married. Now they’re building things together. And having a kid. He just told me a couple weeks ago. Wanted to give me a heads-up before they started posting about it.”

“Is that something you wanted with him?” Johnny asked softly.

You shook your head resolutely. “No, never,” you said. “Just the road not taken, I guess. I thought he’d never wanted that either. Just trying to figure out what I missed.”

He hummed and then reached out, skating his fingertips over your knuckles. A shock traveled through you at his touch. “I don’t think you’re the one who missed something,” he said, in what felt like a whisper.  

You swallowed but couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He just kept brushing his fingers over your hand where it rested on the table. And looking at you, like, like– Oh. Like he wanted you. 

 He made eye contact with you and you couldn’t look away. “Can I tell you what I see when I look at you?” he asked. And you didn’t miss the way his voice had suddenly gotten huskier.

“I– I guess,” you breathed, apprehension but also excitement shooting through you.

“I see someone,” he started quietly, “who’s lived a life but still has so much in front of her. Someone who doesn’t understand just how much is inside of her. And a woman who is really, really, fucking sexy and just needs to remember how to use it.”

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer, and laughed, you couldn’t help it, caught off guard by what that’d made you feel. How alive. How you felt here in the moment, not stuck in the past, or worried about the future for the first time in a very long time.

“Tell me your favorite way to cum so I can satisfy you the way you deserve.”

Your eyes shot back to him. “What?” you gasped. “I– what?” You laughed again, a giggle this time. “I– I don’t know, I just–” He just stared at you while you spluttered. “Do people really have favorites? I thought– Aren’t all orgasms good? The same?”

“Oh,” he said, with a smile verging on predatory, “this is going to be fun. Trust me, by the end of the night, you’ll have a favorite.” And as he looked at you, his eyes fully dancing, he licked his lips, and you thought that, maybe, just maybe, you were starting to feel some of that power Heather had been talking about.

Tag lists are open

@yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings

#johnny storm #giving me a thrill

[alicedopey]

Oh my that was so good. This is the type of fic one would need as comfort after a long day and that is exactly what I needed.

I loved the playful banter between those two and the back and forth between naughty and fluffy. On top of that, I believe you depicted Ransom perfectly. He is definitely not good with feelings because he has the worst parents on Earth and a pretty fucked up family. Deep down though, he is just a big softie who longs to be cuddled and loved…and who will love in return, even if he won’t admit it. And we could feel that in his neediness and the way he was so tender and caring with her. The ending was of course the sweetest thing ever.

Loved it and loved your writing !

Security Jammies

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,221 Summary: It was an annoying, inconvenient realization that had Ransom showing up at your place unannounced. Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Explicit language. Soft!Ransom. Established relationship. Unprotected sex. Cockwarming. Feels. Two trolls in love tbh.

A/N: I am so ridiculously excited to share my first offering for our Cum Together: A Community Revival Extravaganza!! The prompts below just jumped out at me and I really wanted to write some soft!Ransom because I’m so in love with him, and making him a happy, in love boy just makes my heart so happy 😭 Also this maaaay or may not be an interlude from a larger story I have planned but can totally be read as a standalone hehe. 

My Prompts: Showing up at your love’s home in the middle of the night because you need to be with them + “Admit it, you didn’t really know true happiness until you met me.” + “My favorite thing in the world is being here with you.”

The knock at your front door as you were turning out the lights to go to bed was surprising. 

Finding Ransom Drysdale, your boyfriend, on the other side of said door was even more surprising, although his unexpected arrival certainly wasn’t a bad thing. 

In fact, the sight of him alone had your belly swooping with happiness, your lips tugging up into a smile as you leaned against the doorframe, crossed your arms, and said, “I didn’t realize we had plans tonight.”

“We don’t,” Ransom huffed, shooting you an annoyed look before his gaze was flickering away. 

Avoiding yours.

His attitude only made you smile bigger. As did the realization that he was looking a little more haphazard and rumpled than usual in his favorite cream cable knit sweater, black joggers, and his worn sneakers.

“Something I can help you with then, handsome?” 

Once again, Ransom’s narrowed gaze found yours, accusation shining in the brilliant blue depths of his eyes as he frowned at you. His words were muttered so quietly, you almost didn’t hear them as he confessed, “I can’t fucking sleep without you.”

You nearly burst into laughter, but you could tell that Ransom was genuinely grumpy at this realization–and probably the lack of sleep, too–so instead you did your best to suppress your smile from growing any bigger, grabbed one of his big hands with one of yours, and tugged him inside.

“Poor handsome Ransom, just can’t stay away, huh?”

He shot you a half-hearted stink eye as he kicked off his sneakers and left them beside your own by the front door.

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, jammies,” he huffed.

You giggled at the ridiculous pet name that you loved so much which spawned from Ransom’s insistence that you had more pajamas than actual clothes, and he wasn’t wrong. As his gaze dipped to take in your current pajamas, you tried not to preen.

You could tell that he was torn between scoffing and laughing when he caught sight of the embellished cartoon llama on your t-shirt, wearing its own pajamas, and the baby pink sleep shorts with tiny little llamas all over them that went along with it.

“Christ, you’re ridiculous,” Ransom grumped.

You just grinned at him. 

The longer he stared at you, the more the forced annoyance bled from Ransom’s beautiful features, his head tilting to the side and his lips curling into a smirk when he realized, “You’re not wearing a bra, are you?”

It was instant, the way your body perked up in awareness, and you couldn’t stop yourself from squirming on the spot as you crossed your arms over your chest, your own eyes narrowing.

Ransom was full out grinning now as he stepped closer, plucked a wrist of yours in each of his big hands, and dismantled your makeshift shield so he could get a better look at the way your hard nipples were poking against the thin cotton of your shirt.

“Don’t hide from me.”

Your cunt clenched at the huskiness to his voice, but you weren’t ready to give in to him just yet. You still had some more teasing left in you. 

Because you were a perfect compliment to Ransom’s own troll nature, after all, and heckling him was your favorite. 

“You’re so obsessed with me, I’m a little embarrassed for you to be honest.”

Ransom just rolled his eyes as he slowly backed you into the nearest wall. His gaze sparkled at you when he shoved a knee between your thighs and your breath hitched at the sudden, warm press of him between your legs. 

Nooo, don’t let him win, you internally whined at yourself.

Tipping your chin up, you turned Ransom’s smirk against him. “Do you have an altar for worshiping me at home? Maybe tucked away in your closet where no one can see it? Do you kneel or–” 

Ransom smothered the rest of your words with his lips, grinning at your quiet squeak as he kissed you with the kind of determined urgency that had you instantly melting against him and kissing him back with just as much fervor.

When he finally pulled away to let you catch your breath, Ransom touched his forehead to yours as he purred, “We both know you on your knees for me is the much better scenario.”

You just blinked at him owlishly, your sluggish brain taking a long moment to process his words and remember your own that had spawned them.

Ransom laughed at the dazed state of you, kissing the tip of your nose before he was corralling you away from the wall, then down the hallway to your bedroom. 

It felt like one second you were in the doorway, Ransom’s big hands framing your hips and giving them a promising squeeze as he loomed behind you, and then the next you were both naked, your bodies perfectly slotted together as you laid on your sides facing each other, curled close as Ransom drank from your mouth like he simply couldn’t get enough of you. 

The feeling was totally mutual, your hand reaching between your bodies for Ransom’s hard cock before your brain even realized its destination. 

“Wanna feel you,” you panted against his lips as you hooked your leg over his hip and shimmied closer. “Fill me up.”

“Who’s obsessed with who now?” Ransom hummed, laughing when you just shot him a dirty look before giving his cock a squeeze and stroke combo that had him “Hnnngh”ing.

“You little menace,” he grunted. 

Your resulting smile was beatific as his big hand dropped to yours and guided your touch, until both your hands were sticky with his pre-cum and you were whining for your own stimulation.

Just about to beg for him again–and shamelessly so–your words caught in your throat when your eyes met Ransom’s and found such a soft and warm kind of tenderness awaiting you in that dark, wanting gaze of his.

The swoop was back in your belly, your chest fluttering with joy as your face softened and you slid your hand against Ransom’s ruddy cheek and reeled him in for another kiss. 

You kissed him slowly this time, your lips languid against his, loving him without speaking a single word and savoring the taste of him on your tongue as he groaned into your mouth. 

Ransom’s hand squeezed your hip, hitching your leg up higher as he rolled you over onto your back, settling his big, lean body on top of yours. His hand kept on ascending, until it found yours and he laced your fingers together as he held your hand down against the rumpled sheets beside your head. 

His lust-blown gaze found yours just as he drove balls deep into your needy pussy, his kiss-swollen lips trapping your moan between your mouths as he dropped his forehead to yours and panted. 

You breathed his name as your eyes fluttered shut, allowing yourself a moment to just feel him, all of him filling you up, making your cunt flutter and clench as that needy string pulled taut and wanting deep within the core of you. 

The thought was sudden but genuine as you realized that you could happily spend the rest of your life just like this - locked together with Ransom, filled by him, consumed by him, wholly his and no other’s as you basked in every single second of being with him, being his other half, his person.

Because he was most definitely, unequivocally yours.

“Hey, you okay?”

Your eyes fluttered open and you realized you were crying, blinking the rest of your happy tears from your blurred gaze as you nodded and shot Ransom an abashed smile. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Really good,” you promised, tipping your face up and kissing him gently. 

“You sure?” he asked, swiping away a lingering tear from your cheek and watching you closely as you nodded again. 

“Promise.” You rocked your hips, clenching around him on purpose. “Make us both feel good.”

“Jesus, you’re bossy.”

Ransom cracked a grin at your giggle, giving your hand still clasped in his a squeeze before his hips started to move. 

Soon your bodies were working together in tandem, writhing and rocking in a sensual push and pull that had words lost to you both as you pressed close and kissed each other frantically between sharp gasps and throaty moans. 

It felt like your body was soaring, rising higher and higher toward the peak of your pleasure, and you knew that Ransom was nearly there, too. You could feel it by the way his rhythm was growing jerky, the way he was grunting against your ear and rutting into you desperately, wildly.

He suddenly flipped you over, making you gasp and then groan as you settled over him. You felt him so much deeper than before, grinding against him and meeting his fucked out gaze as his big hands shot to your hips and guided the bounce of your body on top of his. 

“Cum for me, kitten, come on, wanna feel you,” he moaned, planting his feet on the mattress and pounding up into you from below. 

All it took was a few swipes of your own fingers against your clit before your orgasm was slamming into you, whiting out your vision and making your head buzz as it dropped back and you keened long and loud as you writhed atop Ransom as you rode out your release.

The wave of ecstasy was just starting to recede from your body as Ransom came, and you distantly thanked every deity in existence for gifting you this moment, witnessing his unabashed pleasure, because of you.

Ransom was beautiful as he surrendered to his own bliss, his hair wild and flopping over his forehead, his handsome face rosy with exertion and shining with sweat.

But it was the way his eyes were fixed on you so avidly–so intently–as he gripped your hips and drove into your messy, overwrought cunt that final few times that had another small rise fluttering through you and drawing out his own climax.

It was one of your favorite things - being locked in Ransom’s feral, possessive gaze as his cock throbbed deep inside you and he filled you with his cum. You shuddered atop him as you felt the last few twitches and pulses of his cock, your body hyperaware and your mind already settling into that blissed out, floaty state that had you sighing your content as you stretched out over Ransom’s body just as he went pliant beneath you.

Humming your satisfaction, you knocked your nose against his, finding that soft, warm look awaiting you in Ransom’s eyes as you met his gaze just before you were kissing him just as gently as he had been watching you a moment ago.

Feeling sleepy and playful as you pulled away and clocked Ransom’s happy, boyish grin, you spared him a cat-that-got-the-cream kind of smile as you teased, “Admit it, you didn’t really know true happiness until you met me.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna write a sonnet about it tomorrow,” he deadpanned without missing a beat.

Laughing, you stole one more peck from his lips before happily sinking down on top of him and hugging him like a clingy koala.

Ransom was quiet for a few moments, his big, soft hands slowly dragging up and down your bare back in soothing strokes. “Let me clean you up,” he murmured, trying to shift out from beneath you. 

“Noooo,” you whined, holding him tighter and clenching around his cock, which was still tucked deep inside of you, on purpose. “Not yet. Love being filled by you.”

He grinned at your slurred words, tone playful as he hummed, “My little cockwarming gremlin,” and nearly laughed outright when you just wordlessly hummed right back at him in confirmation.

Feeling soft–and happy–Ransom settled beneath you once more, his own gaze growing more half-lidded with each quiet second that passed. Still, he couldn’t help but force himself to stay awake, just a little while longer.

He had something on his mind, gnawing away, something he needed to say, but he wanted to make sure that you weren’t awake before saying it, because he wasn’t quite brave enough yet to say such things to you outright.

When he was sure that you were asleep, Ransom smoothed a hand over your head, nosing at your crown as he finally confessed on a whisper, “My favorite thing in the world is being here with you.”

“I know…” you replied instantly, sleepily, but still awake after all. 

You pressed a kiss to Ransom’s bare chest and grinned at the way he had gone stock still beneath you, caught red-handed in his soft feels for you.

“And ditto…stalker,” you teased to break the tension, feeling his big body shake with laughter beneath you.

“Go to sleep, jammies,” Ransom huffed for show, even as he held you a little bit tighter, enamored with you and your sweet, playful heart just a little bit more than he was when he first showed up on your doorstep tonight.

Sighing your content, you tipped your face up and burrowed it against the crook of his neck. Inhaling his comforting scent, you barnacled Ransom just as tightly as he was barnacling you as you finally, happily drifted off to sleep.

AIJFOAEIFJOWEIFJOEWAIFJOEIFJOEFJ

FOIWFJWEOAIFJWOEF

AOFIEJ

😭❤️😭❤️😭❤️😭❤️

Also, please reblog, comment, or drop an ask to screech at me about these two because I’m obsessed and need support through this affliction lolll.

—

I no longer do tag lists, but if you'd like to be notified when I post new writing, follow my side blog @‌sirisshamelesshoelibrary​ and turn on notifications to get pinged when I drop some new hoe fuel 😘

Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or my personal author website. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️

#ransom drysdale #security jammies

[alicedopey]

Aww that was extremely adorable. I don’t know who James Mace is but he seems very nice. Those two are gonna be so sweet together.

Bad Day

A/N: Written for the Cum Together Extravaganza. Reader is implied femme (called "pretty woman").

Prompts: Meetcute + embarrassed + “My hero.”

Word Count: ~600

Warnings: Bad day stress. Please let me know if I missed any.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you chant as you chase after the bus. Of course the driver doesn’t notice you and now you’re running late for work. You don’t have many options, especially on your budget, so you text your boss that you’re going to be late and pray that they’re in a good mood today. 

You pull out your book and wait for the next bus but quickly put the book away. You can’t focus on the words, too nervous about missing the next bus. You end up sitting and fidgeting the entire time. You’re dreading the rest of the day. 

One change in your routine and you’re thrown off. It’s an entirely different crowd of strangers that you ride the bus with. A different kind of energy on your walk to work. Even when you sit at your desk, everything feels off. It’s like living in the uncanny valley. Your only comfort is the familiarity of the work itself. The spreadsheets and typing help soothe some of your frayed nerves. 

Your nerves are on edge again because, to make up for arriving late, you have to work later than normal. You attempt to steel yourself for even more unknown groups of strangers and walk outside. You make it three steps before you accidentally run into someone. Carrying a drink. That you’ve now made them spill. 

“No, no, no, no,” you return to your mantra from this morning, this time mingling it with “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” as heat rushes to your face. There isn’t much more you can do as you wait, mortified, for the man to start yelling at you. 

Instead he gives a soft chuckle, “you know, the day I’ve been having, I’m really not surprised. At least you’re apologizing.” 

You finally lift your eyes from the stain you made on his shirt and see the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen. The emotion in them is reflected by the sad smile on his handsome face. 

“I’m so sorry,” you reiterate. “I really didn’t mean to make your day worse.” You hang your head and try not to cry. “Can…can I buy you another drink or something?”

The man’s smile looks a little less sad, “that’s a nice offer, but I’m just gonna write today as a full loss. Thank you, anyway.”

“Please,” you almost whimper. “I’ve also had a bad day and if I don’t make this up to you, somehow, I’m just gonna feel guilty for at least a week, if not a month.”

“Well, I can’t have that,” he chuckles. “Making a pretty woman upset would definitely make this the worst day for me.”

Your cheeks warm up again as you smile for the first time all day, “my hero.” He laughs a little. He can’t hold back his full smile and that helps you find your own smile. 

The two of you get to walking and talking. It doesn’t take long for you to buy him a new drink, getting one for yourself as well. You head out to your bus stop and he insists on walking with you. The conversation continues as you wait for your ride and you don’t think you’ve felt this good in a long time. 

As your bus comes up, he asks for your number. You happily give it, and the two of you continue the conversation by text.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad day after all.

Tags:

@alicedopey; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @stargazingfangirl18; @labella420

#bad day #james mace

[alicedopey]

Sorry I am late to the party. May I add that @thezombieprostitute is very sweet and always so supportive. She is always there to comfort and listen. Plus, she has one of the most creative minds I’ve ever met here. I really love our chats about a story or hot fictional men. She is gold ❤️

@thezombieprostitute is one of the sweetest people on this site. She is engaging in everything I post and always hyping me up. She is so fun to fangirl with over our shared love of Jakey!!!! And I always feel so happy at how she loves my Suburban Dad Sunday. 🥹 Like she truly is the biggest hype woman and I just adore her.

But not only that, she also has a masterlist full of stories!!! I have the privilege of going through it and reading everything, and I bet they're all wonderful because she's wonderful 🩷😍

@labella420 @stargazingfangirl18

#i love my mutuals

[alicedopey]

It was really surprising and sweet ! I did not know this pair could work but it sure looks like it after what I’ve just read. The connection between the three is adorable too and to see this stupid Alpha run away so afraid was hilarious.

Good job !

Vacation

A/N: Written for the Cum Together Extravaganza. Reader is AFAB and Alpha (big & tall).

Prompts: A/B/O + “How about a little wager?”

Word Count: ~800

Warnings: Mild smut, Not taking "no" for an answer. Please let me know if I missed any!

Things in the apartment had been tense. Your Betas weren’t getting along, arguing over “professional matters”. Sam’s little Red Wing was his pride and joy and he refused to allow Jake to do any of the software upgrades for it, which Jake found incredibly offensive. You loved your men, were proud of them being some of the most intelligent of Betas, but you could tell they really needed to step away from the projects. For everyone’s sake.

Which is why you suggested a vacation. With your rut coming up in just over a month, you really needed them to be working together. You being an Alpha gave you a major size advantage so your Betas, despite their builds, needed to work together to keep you from accidentally hurting yourself or them. 

Which is what led to you being here, on the beach, while your mates were out on the lake fishing. You never really understood the appeal but watching the two of them joyfully freaking out over the giant fish they were pulling in together put a smile on your face.

You also let yourself ogle them in their shirtless state, watching Sam’s bulkier shoulders pull on the fishing pole while Jake’s leaner form was ready with the net. You think back to the many, many times those muscly arms were wrapped around you. The times when you were sandwiched between them, both of them filling your pussy better than any Alpha could. Sam’s endurance and Jake’s flexibility satisfying you more than any other partners you’d had. They must have felt your arousal through the bond because Sam was giving you a knowing wink, making you smile.

Then you caught wind of a foul scent that made you frown.

“What’s a beautiful Alpha like you doing here?” The sleaze dripped from the other Alpha’s every word. “We don’t get lots of pretty ladies like you around here.”

You brandish the scars on your neck, “I’m taken. Move along.”

“Funny,” he leans in too close, “you don’t smell like you’re properly taken. By an Alpha like me.”

“Definitely don’t want an Alpha like you,” you move to get out of your seat, trying to get some distance.  

“You reek of Beta,” he growls. “I’d be happy to teach you how a real man treats their mate.”

“You reek of insecure bravado,” you retort. “My mates give me so much more than you ever could. Now back away.”

“Name one thing those Beta cucks could give you that I couldn’t.”

“Stimulating conversation,” you start. “A good laugh, cuddles and, most importantly, respect. Now get lost.” 

The last two words came out as an Alpha Command that he tried to fight. To his credit, he only took a few steps back. But that’s all that was needed. 

Feeling your mood shift from arousal to “on alert” your Betas had quickly dropped everything and rowed back to shore. You’d made sure to maneuver so that the offending Alpha would keep focused on you and not notice your Betas coming up behind him. 

“The lady said to leave her alone,” Sam warned. 

The sleazy Alpha was clearly not expecting your Betas to be so big and intimidating. He takes a step back from them and pivots so that he can see all three of you. 

“How about a little wager?” Your tone is ice cold, telling Jake and Sam you are truly angry. “See who can run faster? You, or the three of us. You win, you get to leave. We win, we kick your ass. What do you say?”

The Alpha slowly raised his hands, placatingly, and backed away a few steps before turning and running. You growl and move to give chase but Jake stops you, holding you, getting his scent on you and kissing on your mating gland. When the other Alpha is far enough away, Sam joins Jake in calming you down. An angry Alpha can be dangerous for everyone. 

“Guys, I’ll be okay,” you tell them, trying to sound soothing. “I’ve just got a lot of adrenaline now and need to use it up.”

Sam and Jake pull away from you a little. Jake smirks, “race to the hotel room?”

“Gotta take care of our Alpha,” Sam nods. 

“I’ll give you two a head start,” you coo.

Tags:

@alicedopey; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @stargazingfangirl18; @labella420

#vacation #jake jensen #sam wilson

[alicedopey]

Wow that sounds….dangerous but hot 🥵

Don't wanna work in an office all day. Wanna be part of a werewolf pack.

Wanna not have to worry about others making me sick. Want a protective and supportive community.

Don't wanna have to worry about clocking in and out. Don't wanna have to deal with new software that works worse than the older stuff.

Just me and my pack.

[alicedopey]

Well that was….special 🤣 Very rare kind of blowjob. He is gonna make her pay for that. Again. I wonder where he is gonna put her. Will she live with him or will he lock her in a room ?

The Man 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” you utter with each step, the pinch of Floyd’s-- Lloyd’s hand digging into your neck.

“Shut up,” he growls as he as good as drags you.

You walk on your toes, scurrying to keep up. You cling to his wrist to keep your balance as the witnesses turn their heads away. What the heck? What is going on? No one’s going to help you?

“Get in,” he opens a car door and push you so you nearly ding your head on the side.

You catch yourself on the metal and carefully duck down, only for him to shove on your head and slam the door. You compress yourself in the seat as he stomps around the hood. Jeez, that sort of anger isn’t good for you.

He drops into the driver’s side and hits the steering wheel, his anger brimming through flared nostrils. You watch him nervously, waiting for him to explode. It’s like you can see the fuse burning, getting shorter and shorter as he tries to calm himself.

“I’m done talking,” he snarls and sits back heavily. He pulls at his belt buckle as he lifts himself above the seat. “You’re going to use that mouth for something good. I don’t wanna hear another word.”

He pushes his fly open as the buckle tinks and you cringe as he shoves down the elastic of his sleek leopard print briefs. Wow, very 70s of him. He rolls the fabric down his thighs as his dick springs free and you put your hand over your lips, hiding a smile as you snort.

He lowers himself and snarls over at you, “are you laughing?”

“N-no. Well, yes, but I just think... they kinda look funny, don’t they?” You poke your finger up to mimic his hard length. “Boing.”

“What is wrong with you?” He sneers. “How many have you even seen?”

“You know, I’ve been on the internet. I’m a child of the digital age so... probably too many.”

“Jesus, shut the fuck up,” he grabs the back of your head and jerks you towards him, “look, sweet lips, do yourself a favour and stop resisting.”

“Um, favour?” You reach out to grab the steering wheel, fighting to stay away from his lap, “I... I got dry mouth. I can’t--”

“Just open up,” he grunts, shoving on you. He’s strong.

Your arm bends and you collapse onto him, headbutting his dick as you do. You shake your head as you raise it and he suppresses a whimper. He fists your hair and pulls you up, jarring your head back violently.

“Fuck off,” he grits out, “open your damn mouth. And no teeth.”

“Look, I really am not in that kinda mood--”

“I’m about to break your teeth, cupcake. Are you gonna keep arguing?”

You blink at him and weigh a life time of smoothies and broth. His eyes narrow and you gulp. You squeeze your lips tight and try to dip your chin down. He slackens his grip just enough for you to make eye contact with his tip.

Whew, okay, right, you’ve seen some things on The Hub. It can’t be that hard. Figuratively. Literally, it does look pretty hard.

You shudder and suck in a breath. Well, here goes nothing. This isn’t really how you saw your first-time but nothing’s really gone to plan, has it?

You lick your lips and open your mouth as you bring your hand around to grip him. Thick, you think. Looks and feels like it. But the skin, so smooth. You didn’t expect that. You face down the great dragon, throbbing up at you, you will vanquish your foe.

You lower yourself down and hover your lips above his swollen head. You stick your tongue off and flick it around his tip. He twitches and lets out a hiss. You try not to laugh. So sensitive. You press your lips around him and continue to swirl your tongue. You’re not super sure of what you’re doing but it feels right, even though the circumstance is very wrong.

You stretch your lips around him until your jaw aches. He’s gotta be big. Thinking about it, maybe thinking too much, he’s a lot like the men you see in your incognito searches. You’re no prude, you just haven’t found the right person. He’s definitely not the one but well... let’s not think about that.

You ease onto him, feeling him quiver as his breaths puff out slow and long. You take him deeper and deeper, pausing as he grazes the back of your throat. You inhale through your nostrils and try to rear back. He keeps a hold on you, urging you down.

Your throat strains around him as he forces his dick deeper. You nearly gag, your foot kicking the interior. You’re bent over the console, half-twisted, your shoulder bearing too much pressure for comfort. Your eyes water as you find yourself suffocated with his intrusion.

He holds you there until your quaking. He lets up and you pull off of him, coughing and hacking. He chuckles and releases your hair, petting your head.

“Go on.”

You close your eyes and tremble as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, the other still circled around him. You pump then put your lips around his tip. You flick your tongue around and around, taking him in gradually. You reach your limit then back up, dragging your hand in tandem with your mouth.

A saltiness spreads over your tongue and you press it along his base. He growls and his hand spreads across your crown. He leans back into the seat, extending his legs as far as they’ll go in the cramped space. You hear the leather of the steering wheel creak as he grips it tight as you pick up the pace. Hopefully if you go fast, it will be over soon.

“Slow-- sweet lips, hold up,” he rasps, “slow--” He yanks you off of him and hisses, slamming an open hand on the horn as he spasm and curses, “fuck! I said slow--” He lets go of you and contorts as he cradles his sack and squeezes his dick tight, a gush bursting from the tip, stringing down his knuckles and onto his pants. Those look expensive. “What the fuck? You went too fast.”

“I... I didn’t mean to. I just... I did my best,” you stick out your tongue and wipe it on your sleeve, “I never did that before so... my bad.”

He gapes at you then his eyes drift through the windshield. He shoots a passerby the finger as his little honk drew the attention of curious eyes. He growls and opens his hand, examining the sliminess across it.

“You made this mess,” he snarls, “better clean it up.”

Your brow creases and you shake your head, “you got kleenex?”

“With your goddamn mouth,” he barks and sits back. “Hurry up.”

You keep from looking out the window as humiliation seeps in. The realisation that a very private moment is on display makes you nauseous. You bend over his lap again, once more taking him in your hand.

“Good girl,” he purrs as your lips touch his skin, “gotta say, those hands are a lot quicker than that head.”

#lloyd hansen #the man

[alicedopey]

She is so clueless. It could be funny if she had to deal with someone nice and friendly but Lloyd clearly is not that so this is not funny, it is scary and so sad at the same time. She is a mix of Bee and Snickerdoodle. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. Probably both. I just hope in the end, she will get Bee’s strength to get free. Problem is this Lloyd is even more powerful and she has no one to help. She seems so innocent….he could break her just like August did with Snickerdoodle. Basically, I’m scared for her. 😅

The Man 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stare at your phone. It can’t be. After everything else going wrong, you can’t deal with Floyd. It suddenly makes sense why he was messing around with your phone. Ew, he’s kind of a creep.

You don’t answer and put the phone away. Well. You have no money, you’re about to have no home, and your milk is spoiled. Don’t panic. You can figure this out. You’re an adult, aren’t you?

First, go to the bank. You need milk. Once you have a coffee, you’ll worry about the whole eviction thing. You leave the convenience store and open Maps to look for the nearest bank kiosk. Not too far, one block. At least you’re getting your steps in.

You follow the directions on screen and turn to cross the road. You’re so distracted, you forget to look both ways and nearly get hit by a gleaming bumper. You wave a head but don’t look up. You need to get to the bank.

You come up to the pulsing blue dot and glance around. Huh. You don’t see a bank. You turn around and face the ATM built into the side of the building. Oh goddang! You walked to a bank machine, not a bank. Is it you? Are you the problem?

You drop your shoulders. Alright. You’ll just try again. You scroll to the next location and spin around, nearly colliding with a new wall. Oh, not a wall, a person.

You look up at Mr. Henson as he watches you with a line between his brows. Somehow, you’re not very surrpised. This guy is everywhere. It’s almost like he has no hobbies.

“Oh, hi, sorry, excuse me, I’m just on my way to the bank--”

“Ah, running short? Need me to spot ya?” He raises his hand, showing a black credit card.

“Um... noooo,” you utter in confusion. The other day, you ran off after calling him names. You really don’t believe he’s changed his stripes. He’s still a snarling tiger getting ready to feast. “Thanks, but I--”

“Things are tight. Job market’s trash, housing isn’t any better, and those banks,” he whistles and puts his card away, “they like to fuck around, don’t they?”

You look at him, scrunching your face up.

“Y-yeah. Weirdly, I did just get a notice to...” your voice trails off. “Why are you bugging me?”

“Bugging you?” His brows pop up and he guffaws, “oh, sweet lips, you’re funny, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know few jokes but--”

“Think a little harder, cupcake,” he lowers his timber and stares at you.

You blink and wet your lips, pushing them together. Think about what?

“Look, about yesterday--”

“I’m talking about today,” he insists.

“Sure, uh...”

“Do I really need to spell this out for you?”

“Spell what out?” You cringe, clawing for some hint of what he means.

“Your bank card isn’t working, right?” He asks, you nod. “You’re getting evicted.” Another nod. “You have no job.”

You make a face, “yes, okay. Rub it in. Alright. I get it. You’re some important guy and I’m a loser. Don’t worry. You own this city but I think I’m on my way out.”

He sighs and presses his fingers flat on either side of his nose. He drops them and opens his eyes again, “it was me. I’m the reason you—Don't you understand what I can do to you? I got you fired, kicked out, and poor in one day. What else do you think I could do?”

Your chest hollows out and your stomach lurches. What? Him? He just doesn’t stop.

“Sir, what—why would you—I'm sorry I called you a meanie. I was upset and the coffee, I tried--” You sniffle and shudder out a half-sob, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well, you shoulda shut those sweet lips and opened those ears, huh?” He grins, “look, cupcake, you’re not going anywhere. You try to run back to your family, I’ll find you. Your mom’s a good lady, you shouldn’t trouble her. She doesn’t make enough teaching brats to put up with another one.”

“My mom—how--”

He spins his finger in the air, “catch up, honey bun. Alright? This is it. I’ll lay it out real clear for you, right now. You have no money, no home, you have nothing. You are nothing.” He jabs his finger at you, “so, I can solve all your problems and make you something.”

You look around. There’s really no way out. He’s a psychopath. You think. You don’t really know the difference between that and sociopath.

“Are you like CIA or something?” You ask.

He scoffs and flinches, “oh man, you are something else. Really, each time you open that mouth, I’m blown away by the idiocy. Rather just get blown, you get it?”

You shake your head and pout.

“Look, I think we can sort this out, Floyd. Really, I’m really sorry and I understand now. I get it. You’re very important and I messed up. I’m nothing and I did everything wrong. And from the bottom of my heart, I apologise. So, can I please have my life back?” You say, “I think we’d both be happier if we just went on our way and never saw each other again.”

His eyes dart away and he stares into the distance. Exasperation wrinkles above his brow and he looks back to you, hands on his hips, “too late, buttercup. So, let me put it as plain as I can. You don’t get a choice. You belong to me now. Just like everything else in this city. You are mine.”

“You can’t... do that.”

“I am doing that,” he insists. “Another thing,” he raises his hand, showing his palm, “it’s Lloyd.” He emphasizes the consonants of his name, “Lloyd Hansen. You can call me sir or Mr. Hansen. Hell, if we’re getting frisky, you can call me daddy.”

“Ugh,” you groan in disgust and curl your lip.

“Ugh?” He mimick the noise, “I’m about to--” He shakes his hand and sucks in the end of his sentence, “fine. Show, don’t tell. Got it.”

You cry out as suddenly he lunges at you. He grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you forward down the sidewalk. He marches beside you as you writhe and paw at his large hand. You whimper, helpless as pedestrians move out of your path.

“Your mouth got you into trouble, now let’s see if it can get you out,” he growls.

#lloyd hansen #the man

[alicedopey]

Lloyd. Always and forever

Lloyd or Steve?

[alicedopey]

Nicola Coughlan and Luke Newton taking an interview with The Today Show

#luke newton #nicola coughlan #polin

[alicedopey]

Sending all my strength and positive thoughts ❤️

Don't wanna work in an office all day. Wanna be part of a werewolf pack.

Wanna not have to worry about others making me sick. Want a protective and supportive community.

Don't wanna have to worry about clocking in and out. Don't wanna have to deal with new software that works worse than the older stuff.

Just me and my pack.

[alicedopey]

True. He would probably like the smacks too much. Getting rid of the mustache might hurt him more. Good. Then maybe she can throw his tasteless drinks to his face. Again and again and again.

The Man 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You double check the lock on your apartment door. Your paranoia buzzes like a broken radio. You pace around the cramped bachelor, thoughts strewn all around. One moment, you’re desperately trying to figure out what to do next; find a job, go home, call Bre and beg her to take you back. The next, you’re looking out the window, expecting a villain to be waiting outside. Every worry you have strings back to that man... 

You manage to settle down enough to browse the scant offerings on Indeed. The work from home opportunities are questionable as you tap more information. Commission based... that’s not going to get you much. You send off a few applications for fast food joints, a quick solution just to you through, but you need something quick. Something today. 

You give up and throw your phone. You stare at it as it lays screen down on the other end of the couch. You see it in that man’s hand as he flicks his thumb. Who does he think he is? The real question is, who is he? 

You sigh and close your eyes, dragging your hands over your face. The more you think about it, the more it feels you were set up for failure. Why couldn’t Bre just warn you? Why couldn’t she tell you who he was? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? 

The stale smell of espresso urges you from the couch. You shuffle into the bathroom and start the shower. You strip off your clothes, slightly stiff from the dried coffee. Your skin is sticky too in places and there’s a particularly crusty patch on your chest somehow. 

You wash away the caffeine-laced christening. You linger beneath the water and let it slake over you. You lean forward, hands flat on the tile as hot rivulets wash over your back. Your muscles are coiled tightly. The stress of the day and those to come have you tied up like a knot. 

When you emerge, you yawn, too exhausted to keep up the existential despair. You stagger into the front room and over to your double bed. You trade the towel for a loose tee and sprawl across the futon. You melt into it and close your eyes. 

You’ll figure it all out tomorrow. Maybe. Hopefully. 

Or maybe tomorrow will be even worse. 

☕

You wake up to the creak of your mail slot and the metallic clunk of it biting down on an paper. You gurgle and roll onto your side, coughing dryly as you rub your forehead. Your head is thick and foggy from sleep. A slightly thrum pulses in your temple. 

You hover at the edge of the bed, staring at the door, weighing the distance. You yawn and roll onto your feet. You pad across the apartment and pull the paper free of the flap. You open the trifold letter and your vision clears as the font comes into view. 

The building’s letterhead makes you think it’s another notice for the fire alarm test but the bold captials across the top send your heart into panic. NOTICE TO VACATE. What? How? Your rent for the month is paid, plus first and last. How can they evict you? You didn’t do anything. 

You look through the peephole. The hallway is empty. Dang. 

You rinse your face and brush your teeth hurriedly. You pull on a pair of sweatpants and your slip-on shoes. You check the mirror and shrug. Good enough. You don’t really care right now. You need to figure this out. 

You stomp down the flight of stairs to the building office and knock frantically until the door opens. The squat woman inside gives you a death glare. You wave the letter at her. 

“I think there’s a mistake,” you say. 

She grunts and stares back at you. 

“I paid my rent, but this says I have to leave.” 

“Lease violation,” she shrugs. 

“But what-- I’ve been here only a few weeks? What did I do?” 

“Read the letter,” she sniffs. 

You furrow your brow and unfold it again. You skim over the words; ‘landlord requires unit for personal use’. Huh? They can do that? 

“Personal use? But—But you leased it to me. My deposit--” 

“Take it up with a lawyer. All there,” she taps the top of the paper before she swings the door shut in your face. 

What the hell? This can’t be real. You’re in a nightmare. You’re not really awake. This is just one of those really deep dreams where you can’t throw a punch. Too bad you can’t throw one in real life either. Hard to test the theory. 

You frown and make your way back up to your apartment. You leave the paper on the counter and brew a coffee from the single-serve machine. You hold your head in your hands, elbows on the linoleum, as you try to sort through it all. 

The machine grinds and you stand up straight. You take your cup and go to the fridge. You pull out the carton of milk and tip some into your coffee. The chunks that roll out of the spout make you gag. Frig, expired. You dump the whole mug and leave it empty in the sink. Nothing is going right. 

You pour out the sour milk and rinse away the putrid scent. You need to get food. You’re out of eggs too. Just a few small things for now. You have to count your pennies. 

You put a bra on and pull on a hoodie. You make yourself decent enough to face the public but keep your sweatpants on. You’re just running to the corner store. You grab your wallet, phone, and keys and head out. 

Your stroll down to the store is distracted. You should ask a lawyer but you can’t really afford that. You’ll have to try the housing board, see if they offer public services. You don’t really know about all that stuff. 

You grab your staples without much attention. Eggs, milk, a loaf of bread, and some sliced cheddar. Grilled cheese for life.  

You go to the counter and wait for the cashier to scan the items. You try to tap your card but it declines. You insert instead and put in your pin. Pin accepted, transaction declined. You grimace, face burning with embarrassment. 

“Sorry, one sec, I’m gonna just check my account.” You back out of the way of the next customer and pull out your phone.  

You sign-in to your banking app. You see the balance you expected. More than enough for your lot but there’s a little red exclamation mark next to the account number. You tap it and a new page opens. 

‘Account locked for security purposes. Contact Bank Services.’ 

Oh my god! What more can go wrong? You tap on the little chat icon in the corner. The automated responses lead you in a circle and tell you to call the toll-free or go into the local branch. Ugh! But you need milk now. 

A message blips across the top of your screen. It fades before you can read it. You pull down the menu and stare dumbly at the text sent from a private number, ‘morning, sweet lips.’ 

[alicedopey]

Of course Lloyd had to ruin her life so that she would not have any other choice but ask for his help. It’s always the same game with him. Once he is interested, he can’t let go and the less interest she shows for him, the worse he will be. I so hope she smacks his face. Hard.

The Man 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You double check the lock on your apartment door. Your paranoia buzzes like a broken radio. You pace around the cramped bachelor, thoughts strewn all around. One moment, you’re desperately trying to figure out what to do next; find a job, go home, call Bre and beg her to take you back. The next, you’re looking out the window, expecting a villain to be waiting outside. Every worry you have strings back to that man... 

You manage to settle down enough to browse the scant offerings on Indeed. The work from home opportunities are questionable as you tap more information. Commission based... that’s not going to get you much. You send off a few applications for fast food joints, a quick solution just to you through, but you need something quick. Something today. 

You give up and throw your phone. You stare at it as it lays screen down on the other end of the couch. You see it in that man’s hand as he flicks his thumb. Who does he think he is? The real question is, who is he? 

You sigh and close your eyes, dragging your hands over your face. The more you think about it, the more it feels you were set up for failure. Why couldn’t Bre just warn you? Why couldn’t she tell you who he was? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? 

The stale smell of espresso urges you from the couch. You shuffle into the bathroom and start the shower. You strip off your clothes, slightly stiff from the dried coffee. Your skin is sticky too in places and there’s a particularly crusty patch on your chest somehow. 

You wash away the caffeine-laced christening. You linger beneath the water and let it slake over you. You lean forward, hands flat on the tile as hot rivulets wash over your back. Your muscles are coiled tightly. The stress of the day and those to come have you tied up like a knot. 

When you emerge, you yawn, too exhausted to keep up the existential despair. You stagger into the front room and over to your double bed. You trade the towel for a loose tee and sprawl across the futon. You melt into it and close your eyes. 

You’ll figure it all out tomorrow. Maybe. Hopefully. 

Or maybe tomorrow will be even worse. 

☕

You wake up to the creak of your mail slot and the metallic clunk of it biting down on an paper. You gurgle and roll onto your side, coughing dryly as you rub your forehead. Your head is thick and foggy from sleep. A slightly thrum pulses in your temple. 

You hover at the edge of the bed, staring at the door, weighing the distance. You yawn and roll onto your feet. You pad across the apartment and pull the paper free of the flap. You open the trifold letter and your vision clears as the font comes into view. 

The building’s letterhead makes you think it’s another notice for the fire alarm test but the bold captials across the top send your heart into panic. NOTICE TO VACATE. What? How? Your rent for the month is paid, plus first and last. How can they evict you? You didn’t do anything. 

You look through the peephole. The hallway is empty. Dang. 

You rinse your face and brush your teeth hurriedly. You pull on a pair of sweatpants and your slip-on shoes. You check the mirror and shrug. Good enough. You don’t really care right now. You need to figure this out. 

You stomp down the flight of stairs to the building office and knock frantically until the door opens. The squat woman inside gives you a death glare. You wave the letter at her. 

“I think there’s a mistake,” you say. 

She grunts and stares back at you. 

“I paid my rent, but this says I have to leave.” 

“Lease violation,” she shrugs. 

“But what-- I’ve been here only a few weeks? What did I do?” 

“Read the letter,” she sniffs. 

You furrow your brow and unfold it again. You skim over the words; ‘landlord requires unit for personal use’. Huh? They can do that? 

“Personal use? But—But you leased it to me. My deposit--” 

“Take it up with a lawyer. All there,” she taps the top of the paper before she swings the door shut in your face. 

What the hell? This can’t be real. You’re in a nightmare. You’re not really awake. This is just one of those really deep dreams where you can’t throw a punch. Too bad you can’t throw one in real life either. Hard to test the theory. 

You frown and make your way back up to your apartment. You leave the paper on the counter and brew a coffee from the single-serve machine. You hold your head in your hands, elbows on the linoleum, as you try to sort through it all. 

The machine grinds and you stand up straight. You take your cup and go to the fridge. You pull out the carton of milk and tip some into your coffee. The chunks that roll out of the spout make you gag. Frig, expired. You dump the whole mug and leave it empty in the sink. Nothing is going right. 

You pour out the sour milk and rinse away the putrid scent. You need to get food. You’re out of eggs too. Just a few small things for now. You have to count your pennies. 

You put a bra on and pull on a hoodie. You make yourself decent enough to face the public but keep your sweatpants on. You’re just running to the corner store. You grab your wallet, phone, and keys and head out. 

Your stroll down to the store is distracted. You should ask a lawyer but you can’t really afford that. You’ll have to try the housing board, see if they offer public services. You don’t really know about all that stuff. 

You grab your staples without much attention. Eggs, milk, a loaf of bread, and some sliced cheddar. Grilled cheese for life.  

You go to the counter and wait for the cashier to scan the items. You try to tap your card but it declines. You insert instead and put in your pin. Pin accepted, transaction declined. You grimace, face burning with embarrassment. 

“Sorry, one sec, I’m gonna just check my account.” You back out of the way of the next customer and pull out your phone.  

You sign-in to your banking app. You see the balance you expected. More than enough for your lot but there’s a little red exclamation mark next to the account number. You tap it and a new page opens. 

‘Account locked for security purposes. Contact Bank Services.’ 

Oh my god! What more can go wrong? You tap on the little chat icon in the corner. The automated responses lead you in a circle and tell you to call the toll-free or go into the local branch. Ugh! But you need milk now. 

A message blips across the top of your screen. It fades before you can read it. You pull down the menu and stare dumbly at the text sent from a private number, ‘morning, sweet lips.’ 

#lloyd hansen #the man

[alicedopey]

lol no but I know he is pretty young for her but maybe Josephine meets him after setting her mother up on several dates and at first she is taken aback because she did not imagine her mother’s boss being like that (a.k.a. Younger and hot) and she is even more surprised when she sees the way he looks at her mother. (Plus, maybe mother mentioned that he interrupted one of her dates) She might even think that there is or has been something going on between the two at some point and that would explain why it did not work out with the other dates.

Surreal talk ensues:

Josie: Mom, it’s okay. I’m giving you my blessing. You have every right to be with him.

Stitches (don’t remember if that’s her official name or maybe Doc or Dottie because she is always taking care of him….anyways): With who ?

Josie: Nick. Your boss. I think he would be perfect for you, no matter how old he is, and you would be perfect for him too.

Stitches: what are you talking about ? Joey, that’s not what it looks like. He is certainly not into me and I’m not…I mean, he is obviously very attractive but the two of us would not work out.

Josie: Mom, it’s okay. He told me. The guy is completely smitten. He even mentioned marriage.

Stitches: He did what ?!?!

Seriously I mean, Josephine is a good soul but she might try to push her because she does not want her mother to be alone and loveless…and that way, she doesn’t have to feel guilty about living her life and leaving her mother behind somehow. I don’t know if I am clear but that’s how I see it. 🤷‍♀️

I had this idea about Blurred Lines that since Josephine seemed to want her mother to find a man she might push her into Nick’s arms once she meets him. I mean, we all know how he can play the charming card and she might sense he is interested into her mother.

Oooor she sets her mother up on a date and Nick conveniently barges in. Once again, Josephine realizes he is smitten but her mother only thinks that he is just needy and probably needs her help for something (and he does in a way). And yet Josephine can see it’s more than that. Meanwhile, reader still is in denial. « That’s preposterous »

Maybe she could be the one to reveal her father is dead…unless Nick had her followed and asked for some info. But I think having Josephine tell him could be interesting.

Lmao. Who cares if he's a bit young. Mama deserves some good lovin'.

Nick barging in on a date I can see lol. Reader definitely is like goddamn this man child can't scrub his own toilet, can he? Reader's like I'm old, i don't got time for this.

Josie could be his source on all things reader lol.

#nick fowler #blurred lines

[alicedopey]

Hvitserk: I sleep with an axe under my pillow

Ubbe: I sleep with a knife under mine

Y/N: you're both pathetic

Hvitserk: oh yeah, than what do you sleep with?

Y/N: Ivar

#vikings tv #ivar x reader #vikings

[alicedopey]

Ouh I like that. Suburban I don’t know because I still believe there is potential in the building where Buttercup/Fawn lives, especially with Curtis lurking around, watching his agoraphobic neighbors through his peephole Jake Jensen might be living here, lost in his own nerdy world and obsessing over the gal who lives on the building just on the opposite street. Nick is the landlord of course and he « wants to help » that newly divorced woman who lives on the upper floor and has trouble paying her rent.

🤡

[alicedopey]

Don’t know but I remember a time you mentioned Carpe Noctem Lloyd had one. I always imagined Mimi in a yellow bathing suite by the pool, putting some sunscreen on and advising Lloyd to do the same, for him just to snap back at her to stop babying him.

Then of course he gets some sunburn and is complaining so Mimi put some salve on them. After that, he always lets her put some sunscreen on him too…and he enjoys it 😅

Does next-door Steve got a pool 👀

#lloyd hansen #mimi x lloyd #mimi is my favorite