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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

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Same as it ever was 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Sorry to those who expected a team-up or simps!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your eyes burn as you rub them with the heels of your hand. It's late, very late, and Pete's not home. He missed bath time and bedtime. You're only fortunate that the sitter fed the kids.

You continue your tedious Excel mission, yawning at the sharepoint file as you sweep your fingers over the touchpad. You sit against the pillows propped against the bed frame and struggle not to doze. You're almost there, you can do it. Yeah, keep telling yourself that and it might even be true.

You hear an engine. You're not much of an automotive enthusiast but you recognise it. It's Pete unnecessary Corvette. The vehicle he convinced you would be the perfect company car. You sigh and hunker down, blocking out the ruckus of his return.

Still, you hear it all. Him unlocking the door, pausing to take off his jacket and shoes, climbing the stairs, at least considerate of the hour as he keeps his steps light. He enters, seemingly shocked to find you awake as his eyes round in your direction. He stretches, pushing his neck side to side in an exaggerated gesture of fatigue.

"Ugh, long day," he rubs his shoulders with a groan.

You don't acknowledge him as you keep your fingers fluttering over the keyboard. It's too late and you're too drained to be any more angry than you already are. You narrow in on the laptop as he hovers at the edge of your vision, undressing piece by piece.

"Big meeting today. Might've found another investor," he talks above the bellowing elephant in the room. "I think we're almost there."

You curl your lip but say nothing. One word and it's over. It will all come spewing out. Between him and your asshole boss, you have a thread of patience left.

He tosses his pants at the hamper and they catch on the edge before falling on the outside. He doesn't pick them up. You wonder why he insists on spending label name money when he doesn't take care of his clothes. Why he wears big names as you're digging through thrift store bins. You blow out a breath, a sigh that fills the room.

"So," he rolls down his underwear, shamelessly naked but for his black socks, "you just going to give me the silent treatment when I worked all day--"

"I'm still working," you snap and still your hands, glaring up at him, "I'd be done by now if you had picked up the kids from Emma's."

"I... you weren't serious about that, were you?"

"Don't," you warn him and lower your gaze back to the laptop, "I have a big meeting in the morning and I'm gonna spend enough time getting this done. I don't need an argument--"

"Relax," he snips, "I'm gonna shower and sleep. You don't gotta worry." He lumbers over to the bathroom door and you roll your eyes, "we both know nothing else is going on in that bed."

You swallow as your eyes sting again. He slams the door and you hiss. If he wakes up the kids...

You wait and listen for any stirring beyond your bedroom walls. Thankfully, the house is silent but for the sudden scour of the showerhead. You bat away the layer of tears threatening to spill and shake your head. It's not like you didn't try; you put on some old lingerie two weeks ago and he rolled over and went to sleep. Still, you're the problem. It's always you.

You hit save to make sure the sharepoint updates and you take a final look over each sheet. You're done, you think. You hope. You're too tired to care. You shut the laptop and put it on the night table.

You slide down onto your side and flip off the lamp. You lay with your back to the bathroom door and squeeze your eyes shut. Sleep should be easy but your anxiety further jabs the migraine into your skull. You hate this, all of it. How did it come to this? Where did you go wrong?

🗄️

A couple hours of sleep is hardly enough to recover from the hectic day behind you, or the one awaiting you. You get the kids up, packed, and off to school knowing Pete is probably not even awake. You didn't even try to rouse him as he would only add to your list of worries.

You head to the office, your hope of getting in early crushed as you hurry in at your usual time. You fall into the chair, coat still half-on as you jab the button on the monitor. The PC is asleep but not off. You hit the space bar to wake it up.

You finish stripping off your outer layer and hang it over the back of your chair. You swivel in and gape at the sight before you. Every cell is empty. You click through the sheets as your heart plummets. You close and try reopening the file, hoping it merely timed out.

Nothing. It's all gone but how? You can't believe it. You go into the recovery settings and search through revision history. It's all be locked, you can't see any past edits.

You clutch your head as despair and panic and grief swallow you up. Luck has never been your friend but this is a new low. You roll back slightly and fold over in your chair. You have a choice; accept defeat and tender your resignation or hope for mercy and pretend in the meeting that the file was corrupted without your knowledge.

"You know," your chair jolts as someone kicks a wheel, "there's a very strict security policy around here. All work devices should be locked and shut down before they are left unattended."

You sit up and spin, dizzy from grief and utter dread as you face Mr. Hansen. He smirks down at you, a black button-up under a sleek evergreen jacket. His wardrobe is even more ostantatious than your husband's; probably because he can afford it. You lift your face and deflate.

"Mr. Hansen," you murmur.

"Anyone could just see the budget… they could tamper with it," he watches you smugly, "or even…delete it."

Your ribs rack and your ears tingle. He did this. Is he crazy? You stand up and he stays as he is. The closeness between you is suffocating.

"Mr. Hansen," you repeat, "I had the numbers done–"

"Oh, you do?" He chuckles, "that's great."

"What did you do? Why?" You accuse.

"I told you, honey bun, you owe me," he pishes his shoulders back, "so…" he lifts his arm and checks his watch, gold and expensive. Probably worth as much as your mortgage, "how exactly are you gonna pay me back? First I let you off early," he holds up a finger "then… I work a miracle and help you recover that pesky budget."

"Sir," you choke out, mortified, "I'll… I'll stay overtime all week. I swear, I'll–"

"Hmph, nah, I got enough soldiers running the ant hill," he tweaks a brow, "overtime… boring. You got kids, they need mommy home to kiss them goodnight."

You clamp your lips together and watch him desperately. He just wants to torture you. You can feel it all slipping away; your job, your husband, and yourself.

"What do you want?" You exhale weakly.

He tilts his head and lets the tip of his tongue poke out, "you know," he wags his index in front of you, "I know this trick on Excel, why don't I show you?" He pauses for effect, basking in his victory, "in my office?"

A stitch dimples between your eyebrows. His office. Why? You don’t let the trickle of suspicion overflow. You’re not his type. Definitely not Kendra. No, this will be worse than whatever disgusting thoughts he has in her direction.

You set your chin and turn your hands out, “alright, fine. Show me.”

You wait, and he hesitates, as if waiting for you to flinch first. Finally, he pivots on the heel of his ridiculous loafers and struts towards his office. You leave your chair facing the rest of the office and follow, pressing your sweaty palms to the pilled wool that strains across your thighs.

He opens the door of his office and you enter behind him. He lingers by the door and closes it as you stop just inside. For all your years there, you’d never actually been inside his office. There was never any reason for it. Thankfully.

He doesn’t say a word as he rounds his desk and sits casually in his tall-backed chair. It’s much better than those out in the bullpen with the worn cushion and squeaky wheels. You wait, patiently impatient, for him to begin. You feel him plotting, measuring his next move.

He rolls closer to his desk and takes the nearly flat apple mouse, moving it atop the leather pad and clicking with a single finger. His eyes reflect the large screen of his iMac and the corner of his mouth curves upward.

He looks at you and beckons with his other hand, “come here. I’ll show you.”

You reluctantly round his desk. There’s something about his nonchalance that both irks and unsettles you. You near and look at his screen. You see the slobbery lips of a teary-eyed woman right before he minimises the window. You pretend not to notice as he clicks onto the excel file.

It’s there. All your work. You squint and see the title in the bar of the window; Copy of… He kept a copy but he destroyed yours. It’s all a trick. You can’t be surprised by that.

“There it is,” he clicks his tongue, “all your hard work. Wow, I gotta say, that’s impressive.”

“You…” you put your hands on your hips and glance between him and the screen, “what do you want?”

“Nothing much,” he snickers, “and I’d say it’s not too different than what you want. What you really want.”

You blink at his vague statement. You bring an arm up across your stomach and stare at him nervously. Men like him just want their ego inflated. You just have to remember how to kiss ass.

“So,” he leans back and reaches for his belt, “we don’t got much time. Meeting’s in a smooth fifteen so–”

“What are you doing?” You hiss.

He stops, keeping his hands over his lap. You see his velvet pants twitch.

“We can play pretend. I don’t mind. You like the whole hard to get thing, I get it, you got class,” he says, “but we both know the old man isn’t giving you what you need. I can tell by the way you keep your ass clenched–”

“Mr. Hansen,” you snarl.

“I’m not asking for much. A quick handy,” he unbuckles his belt, “I just want a little more than you give the husband. I don’t want it to be a chore, alright? You’re not washing dishes–”

“You’re gross-”

“And you’re going to do it,” he opens his fly. Again, your shock is lacking. No underwear, nasty. “Because you’ve been here, what…” he reaches into his pants and pulls his dick out as he talks, “twelve years?” He strokes himself without shame, “and you walk out of here without a single reference and you’ll be lucky to get a job at the McDonald’s drive-thru.”

You focus on his face, horrified. Like most women, it’s not the first time you’ve been in this position. Propositioned in such a revolting way. Put in a winless situation. Yet, you somehow believed those days were over for you. You’d found safety in age.

“You can’t be serious…” you mutter.

“I’m fucking serious and I’m horny. Since you wanna cockblock me, you can deal with the consequences, honey,” he turns the chair towards you, “you do remember how these things work, right?”

You stare at him, almost glaring. You don’t let your revulsion seep through fully because as repugnant as he is, he’s right. You need this job. You’re not young, you can’t just walk away and crash on a friend’s couch until you find something better. You’re a mother and a wife. A wife.

“Is it really cheating if you can’t stand it?” He chortles as if reading your mind.

You take a breath and step forward. He winces at your suddenness. He braces the armrest of the chair as you reach for his rigid length. You grip him, biting down to keep from ripping your touch away. You look past him to the wall as he grunt and lets out a quivery breath.

You pump him and he hisses, “honey, it’s not a stick shift. Be fucking nice. Get some fucking lube on it.”

You tamp down your disgust and pull your hand back. You hold it up and spit onto it, hiding the action as best you can. You’d rather spit in his face.

You grab him again and run your hand from base to tip and back. He chokes and clings to the chair tighter as it shifts beneath him. He groans as you fixate on the framed Harvard Business School degree. Just when you thought life couldn’t slap you in the face again.

He pushes his head back and rumbles as you feel him tensing. He’s like any man. Simple, through and through.

You feel him trembling and sense the change in his tone. He’s close. You taste bile, sickened by yourself and him. You stop and keep your hand around him.

“Send it,” you demand.

“Huh?” He puffs.

“Send the file or I don’t finish. And neither do you–”

“Honey, that’s not–”

You squeeze, “send the file.”

“Fine, fine,” he reaches over, straining as he taps a few buttons. You watch the screen and he hits share, you wave him away from the keyboard. You type in your email with your free hand and press enter.

“Great,” you pump your hand again, hips aching at the awkward way you have to bend.

You grasp the chair above his shoulder as you speed up. He growls and plants his feet, rasping through his rising pleasure, “don’t fuck up my suit–”

You angle his dick and cup your hand under the tip. You have to look then. You watch as he explodes, catching the gushing flow in your palm as he quakes and moans out his delight. Your stomach churns as you stroke him until he’s empty and squirming.

You retract your hand and turn to grab a tissue to wipe away the mess. You’re certain to take a healthy dollop from the sanitizer bottle as well, clearing your throat as you try to shake off what you just did. You look at your watch and roll your shoulders.

“I’ll see you in the meeting,” you retreat to the door as his breath peters out.

“Honey…” he sighs.

“Mr. Hansen,” you reach for the door, leaving him with his limpening dick hanging out.

You march out, not looking one way or the other, as you head for your desk. You’re shaking by the time you reach it, nearly collapsing into the chair. What have you done? You are just as disgusting as he is. You’re pathetic, you’re a loser, you’re… a cheater.

#lloyd hansen #pete brenner #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner #pete brenner x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #same as it ever was #au #the gray man #pain hustlers

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darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Same as it ever was Masterlist

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

#lloyd hansen #pete brenner #the gray man #pain hustler #series #au #multifandom #crossover #dark fic #dark!fic #fic

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pedroam-bang · 5 months

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Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) 3D (2017)

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gummydummy19 · 6 months

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Weird ish question but what are the Chris Evans characters of his that you think are hairy? Like what ones do you think have hairy asses, ect. Yk?

Not weird at all!! Alright...how are CE characters groomed? Let's get into it;

Steve Rogers:

I think Steve Rogers at first would be perfectly shaven (not waxed, he is far too scared to let anyone strange near his bits)

but Infinity War Steve....oooh that man is definitely hairy

Just imagine it: He has been on the run. His beard is growing, and his hair is a mess

He barely has time for/access to showers, so he doesn't have time to shave

definitely hairy all over

Ari Levinson:

hairiest mf alive

no questions asked

Especially if we are going timeline accurate

70s bush babe

Hairy face, hairy balls, hairy ass

No wonder you call him 'bear' all the time

Nick Grant:

DEFINITELY hairy

All over

Just look at that scruffy face???

Colin Shea:

might shave every once in a while but I don’t think he cares enough to go all the way back there

so I think he gets a bit hairy from time to time

Frank Adler:

hairy too, no doubt

This guy gives me big stinky man vibes but like in a good way

Trims his bush every once in a while

But definitely can't be bothered to go past his crotch

Hairy balls/butt for sure

Andy Barber:

hmm

this is a hard one (no pun intended)

I mean....his name is Barber

He is a fuzzy teddybear but he is always well groomed

Like??? That beard??? Perfection.

I think he might trim as well

Just to keep everything tidy

....might let his partner give him a wax if he's had enough beers and he feels playful enough

Jake Jensen:

seems like the type to try and shave before a date

because he is embarrassed and wants to look clean and well-groomed

accidentally cuts himself while shaving

gets even more embarrassed because now he walks funny

Luckily you find it charming lol

Lets his partner give him waxes every once in a while

gets embarrassed AGAIN when he gets hard and discovers he has a tiny bit of a pain kink

(I have a filthy brain sorry)

Johnny Storm:

Another difficult one

I think he trims

proud owner of a delicious happy trail

Lloyd Hansen:

my favourite mustache man

He is shaved but he always has some weird shit like a lightning bold

Pornstar looking ass

Gets you to give him waxes because he likes the pain

he is just a filthy little man with no sense of shame

like at all

Ransom Drysdale:

This motherfucker gets waxed every couple of weeks

At the salon where you work

Asks for you specifically every single time

Doesn't even try to hide his boners

Pete Brenner:

Kinda same vibes as Ransom

Definitely feel like he'd be hairless down there

Also feel like his explanation would be that it makes his huge cock look ever bigger

He would go to the gym a lot and book weekly appointments at a wax salon to show off his “perfect body”

Shamelessly flirts with the employees

Tries to get a happy end every time

A/N: alrighty I enjoyed this way more than I should have jhdiugudbua let me know what you think besties...

and THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK!!! *mwaaa*

#gummydummy19 #fanfiction #fluff #smut #body hair #chris evans #steve rogers #ari levinson #pete brenner #ransom drysdale #lloyd hansen #johnny storm

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paperweight91 · 2 months

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We’ve been teasing and scheming all week, now it is time to announce our full AU. We’re All Monsters will be co-written by @krirebr and me! Kris will be handling our Vampires and I will be handling our Werewolves. But don’t worry that doesn’t mean they all won’t be meeting each other throughout this AU. As for how? Well you’ll just have to wait and see.

This will be building off of Kris’ Psycho Killer AU and will feature some of, if not all the CE characters we know and love.

We’ve outlined the reader pairings and nicknames below, we hope you’re as excited as we are to delve into the supernatural with us!

Andy Barber - Runner

Ari Levinson - Queenie

Curtis Everett & Jake Jensen - Angel

Frank Adler & Pete Brenner - Dove

James Mace - Sneak

Johnny Storm - Cutter

Lloyd Hansen - Snipe/Spitfire

Ransom Drysdale - Little Rabbit

Steve Rogers - Sunshine

#we’re all monsters #vampire!au #werewolf!au #supernatural!au #andy barber #ari levinson #curtis everett #jake jensen #frank adler #pete brenner #james mace #johnny storm #lloyd hansen #ransom drysdale #steve rogers

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euphternal · 7 days

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ʚɞ :: she/her, no labels & addicted to too many tv shows n movies.

ᝰ :: masterlist below the cut and guidelines too. requests are open. 🌷⁺˖ ⸝⸝

ᯓ :: there's a list of people of who i write is below the cut too.

people i write for ::

women: ashley johnson, ellie williams, paige bueckers, elizabeth olsen & wanda maxioff.

men: chris evans (just his main characters: pete brenner, ari levinson, & lloyd hansen).

my guidelines ::

some sexual themes in my writings or requests but i’m not up to writing smut, just yet.

anons are welcome! but any rude comments from anyone, blocked instantly.

wanna be friends? msg me or send in something in my inbox, idc!! please do!! also anyone can spam my inbox, im always craving interactions 🤍

18+ here, but what you consume on my blog here is, isn’t to do with me. that’s on you!!

writing is new to me & i don’t do full fanfics!! i only do headcanons, short writings & blurbs. 🩷

🇵🇸🍉

my masterlist ::

dealer!ellie

dealer!paige bueckers

streamer!paige bueckers

random paige bueckers headcanon

dealer!paige bueckers part two!!

paige bueckers x loser!reader

paige bueckers x introvert!reader

paige bueckers x pregnant!reader

#ashley johnson #ellie williams #paige bueckers #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff #chris evans #pete brenner #ari levinson #lloyd hansen

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saiyanprincessswanie · 2 months

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SaiyanPrincessSwanie Reading List Weeks 185 & 186

Welcome to weeks 185 & 186

A/N: Sorry again the list isn’t long. I finally saw Dr and was told I had a severe sinus infection. So finally on meds and just resting. Thank you again to those who gave me recommendations for fanfics. 💜 This week had me reading 30 fics. Absolutely amazing stuff here.

As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal-boosting them. The author is listed next to the title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community. 💜💜

Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.

Click HERE for past reading lists.

For my Masterlist click HERE

Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers

Header by @fictional-affairs

If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.

I love you 3000 💜 Missy

Traditions - (Bucky x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie

Road Trip Mission - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Competition - (Brock x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

His Inheritance - Part 32 - (Steve x Reader) - @jtargaryen18

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet - Chp 2 - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Switched Sides part 2 - (Lloyd x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival

Your Mark On Me - Part 4 - (Steve x Reader) - @georgiapeach30513

Rehoming Strategy - (Pete x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Handpicked - (Cole x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

With a Bang - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Space - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

A kiss? - (Jack R x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

A Casual Kiss - (Bucky x Reader) - @ronearoundblindly

Worth the Wait - (Steve x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Golden Boy vs. Dirty Boy (1) - The base - (Steve x Reader x Soldier Boy) - @holylulusworld

Wrecked (Part 1) - (Frank C x Reader x Billy R) - @tuiccim

for the hope of it all - (Lee x Reader) - @nickfowlerrr @buckysburdens

The Tears on Ivory - (Lee x Reader) - @shadeysprings

Firewood - (Bucky x Reader) - @mrsbarnesblog

What Am I To You? - (Bucky x Reader) - @ellemj

Mike W Drabble - @sagechanoafterdark

Love, love - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Lie - (Brock x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Draw - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Kiss - (Jack R x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Deceive - (Frank x Reader x Nick V) - @stargazingfangirl18

Second Shot - Chp 4 - (Andy x Reader) - @yenzys-lucky-charm

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 33 - (Steve x Reader) - @jtargaryen18

call it what you want to - (Bucky x Reader) - @nickfowlerrr @buckysburdens

Next Door to Love - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

#saiyanprincessswanie #recommended reading #missy reads #missy reblogs #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #brock rumlow x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #curtis everett x reader #pete brenner x reader #cole turner x reader #frank castle x reader #lee bodecker x reader #frank adler x reader #Nick Vaughan x reader #andy barber x reader

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babyjakes · 1 month

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〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

nav | masterlist | rules | library

about the event | eun hosts a private practice blurb night for the month of march 2024!

dates and times | requests will be accepted over two weeks, from mon. march 11th to sat. march 23rd. the event will begin at 12pm cst on sat. march 23rd.

submission guidelines | the theme of this event is eun's new medfet au, private practice! check out the private practice au masterlist to find out more about the characters. more detailed requests are more likely to be chosen. please make sure your submission follows eun’s general request guidelines. please include the following in your request:

the doctor of your choice (levinson for nondark or soft!dark, hansen for truer dark) a nurse or specialist to assist a medfet theme or scenario medfet and other kink elements you'd like included a daddy!character for reader (if relevant)

looking for medfet inspo? | eun's providing a list of ideas below the cut!

medfet prompts.

gynecology: exams, screenings, procedures orgasmic and sexual functioning: pleasure response testing, orgasm trials, forced orgasm therapy, toleration of penetration deviance and behavior: refusal to orgasm, breaking no touch/play rules, general brattiness/defiance medical bondage: restraints, dental gags, drugging/sedation watersports: holding kink, forced wetting/release, diaper play, catheter play medical tools and devices: injections, sexual enhancement drugs and topicals, dilators, speculum, thermometers, suction devices, vibrators, swabs and brushes, "penetration" (fucking) machines, response testing equipment, plugs general medical supplies: exam tables and chairs, scrubs, lighting, gloves, masks, machinery regression elements: being examined/inspected, surrendering control, being good for daddy and/or the doctor, sex as a regressive technique specific to andy's character: aftercare elements, trouble/help with regressing, providing comfort through exams/procedures specific to pete's character: bondage and medfet inventions, testing new equipment and treatments on patients

#march '24 blurb night #private practice #chris evans #chris evans smut #ari levinson #ari levinson smut #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen smut #andy barber #andy barber smut #pete brenner #pete brenner smut #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #jake jensen #jake jensen smut #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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Same as it ever was 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: hello again.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You change out of your work clothes into a pair of old jeans and a fraying sweatshirt. You can smell the smoke from the basement as you huff at the ceiling. Great. You thought maybe having Pete home could at least spare you a few minutes to lay down. As usual, you have to save the day he's spoiled. Not that it was any good before that.

You go upstairs as the fire alarms wails and you hear Simone asking if everything's okay. You come up behind your daughter and gently touch her shoulder, "go read, everything's fine."

Pete pokes the button on the detector with the end of the broom as you hurry in to move the pan from the burner into the sink. The pan is ruined as the breasts stick, burnt to the finish entirely. You shake your head as you face your husband. He looks like a beaten dog as he holds the broom and pouts.

"I'll put some of the frozen nuggets in the oven," you resign, "why don't you set the table or something?"

He mopes and puts the broom back in the closet. He doesn't leave though. He approaches as you open the freezer and take out the breaded processed chicken. You put the bag on the counter and tear it open.

"I'm sorry, babe. I'm really... I'm trying."

"I don't want you to try, Pete, get it through your head," you whisper sharply, "I don't want you. At all."

He sputters as you refuse to look at him. You pull out a baking sheet and spread out the nuggets. He watches, helpless and stunned.

"You can't mean that," he mewls.

"What am I supposed to want with you?" You ask, "You blew it. We both did. It's done. We just... get through for the kids. For the company, until you can pay me alimony."

"Huh?" He chokes on the noise.

"Mom," Simone jolts you as she chimes from the doorway. You and Pete turn in unison. "That idiot with the lip fur is outside."

You frown as Pete gives another confused utter. "Who-- he is?"

"He knocked but I told him to go away," she shrugs, "don't think he got the message."

"Simone," you look at Pete as he furrows his brow. "My boss..."

"What the hell is your boss doing here?" Pete asks.

"I wouldn't know," you answer dryly.

You march out of the kitchen, past Simone as you go to the front window and peer out. You see Hansen inspecting your mailbox before he jams the doorbell. Great.

You go to the door with your daughter and husband trailing you. This is the last thing you need. How dare he come there and disturb your family. He gets eight hours a day to torture you. And you haven't eaten, you're about to fall over.

You swing the door open, ready to eviscerate him but stopping short. You can't do that. Not least of all because Simone is right there.

"Mr. Hansen," you greet airily, "what can I do for you?"

"Ah, nice to see you too," he eyes Pete over your shoulder as Simone stands beside you.

"Wish she could say the same," Simone sneers, "I told you to go away."

"Sim," you reproach, you're starting to think she gets that from you. "Mr. Hansen..."

"You're the boss? What're you doing here?" Pete asks, gripping the door frame as he' stands almost right against your back.

"You must be the old man," Hansen smirks, "didn't the wife tell you? She got a promotion."

"Huh, old man-- promotion?" Pete reels aloud. "No."

You swallow and suck in air. Just go along with it. One wrong step and he might just tell the truth for once.

"I haven't had the chance, we've been making dinner," you simper sourly.

"Well, I wish I could say I'm just here to say congrats but business calls," Hansen checks his watch.

"It's six-thirty," Pete scoffs.

"Oh, you know, the big boys, it's a business dinners and useless small talk but gotta put on a good face." He looks at you and a line forms between his brows, "so better go doll yourself up."

"Wha-- right now?"

"I called you. Several times. You didn't pick up. Your problem, not mine. Let's go," he snaps your fingers.

"Mommy," Malik's voice startles you as he squeezes between you and Simone, "oh! Mommy!"

He whimpers and clings to your leg as he gapes up at Hansen, hiding behind you like he did when he was younger.

"I told you he's evil," Simone grumbles.

"Alright, everybody, inside," you declare as you raise your hands, "Mr. Hansen, please, just, give me a couple minutes."

"I've given you a few already but suppose I can't take you to dinner with grease on your shirt."

You look down at the new stain on your sweatshirt. Of course. You back up and close the door, turning to face your family, crowded in the entryway, bearing down on you.

"Okay, here's what's going to happen. Pete, put the chicken in, twenty minutes, make sure you flip them so they don't stick. Simone, keep an eye on Malik, please, help him with his homework, honey. Mal," you pause and untangle your son from you, "be good, please."

"Are you leaving?" He pouts.

"I have to."

"What the he--ck," Pete corrects himself before he can swear, "you're just going with him?"

"He's my boss, Pete," you snip, "I don't have much of a choice. I need the money. We both do. I doubt it'll be all night. A dinner, easy."

You know it's probably not what Hansen says it is but you're not going to unveil that deception. It's better to go along. You hate to lie to your family but you'd feel worse to let them down.

"Great, so you get to go out and have a fancy dinner and I have to stay here?"

"Pete," you sniff, "you're a father, start acting like it." You stop yourself, "Simone, Malik, please, go watch some TV."

Simone frowns as she peeks between you and your husband. You see the suspicion and anxiety sparking in her. She takes Malik's hand and takes him into the living room.

"I'll bring leftovers, happy?"

"That guy looks like a real scuzz bucket," he growls.

"Oh, please, you've spent how long staying late to go to dinners and be with Miss Panties or No Panties," you snarl, "don't start because I have to miss one night."

"Honey," he changes his tone, "I can't-- what do I do?"

"What do you do? Figure it out," you shoulder past him, done with the argument. You haven't won, you have to go put up with Hansen.

"Babe," Pete calls after you.

"I'm sure you could ask Simone, even a twelve year old can figure it out," you toss over your shoulder as you stomp upstairs.

🗄️

You pull on a plain black skirt that ends at your knees, of the few you have among your wardrobe. You match it with a lamb gray blouse and a blazer you can’t button. You try your best to refresh your hair and face but at this point, there’s not much you can do about it.

You come downstairs and slip into a pair of round-toed flats as Pete watches silently. You know he wants to argue. You don’t want to go either but you’re sure as shit not telling him that. Let him suffer while you do the same.

“I’ll try not to be too late,” you shrug on your coat and hook your purse over your shoulder, “Malik, don’t give your father a hard time at bathtime and Simone, do your math. You can’t read all night.”

You reach for your phone and spin back for the door. Pete catches you, holding you at arm’s length. His blue eyes cling to yours with a glimmer of desperation.

“Love ya, honey,” he says, “I really do.”

You gulp and put your chin up. The kids are there. You try not to let your loathing tighten in your cheeks, “love you too…” you eke out and clear your through. “Love you all.” You pull away from him and smile at Simone and Malik, “have a good night.”

You quickly turn away and scurry to the door. Something about the moment leaves you breathless. The realisation that your family is hanging by a fraying thread. You pull the door shut as you come out to find Hansen leaning on the hood of his sports care. Is that douche bag red?

You come up the walk as he watches you with a smirk, “adorable, got the whole clan home.”

“Please,” you grumble, “let’s just get out of here. Far away.”

He stands up straight, “already jonesing for more, huh?”

“No, I just don’t want you near my family,” you retort.

He cackles and the car chirps as it unlocks. He goes around the driver side as you approach the passenger’s. You open the door and get into the low seat. You don’t like the incline of the seat or the smell of the air freshener. Everything about him is unbearable.

He jams his index into the ignition, hitting the button to turn the engine. He sits back and rests a hand lazing on the bottom of the steering wheel as he pulls out slowly. You buckle the seat belt and stare ahead.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer the phone–”

“Good start, toots, but a better one would be your hand in my pants,” he snickers.

You cringe and put your purse between your feet. You strain against the seat belt and lean over the stick shift. As you reach for him, he swats you away and growls. You retract, annoyed.

“I thought–”

“You know, I was thinking of just driving you to the Wendy’s parking lot and sticking it in,” he cruises well past the speed limit as he remains casually reclined, “but that seems too easy.”

You grit your teeth. He’s mocking you. He slaps his hand on your knee and drags it up your thigh, rumbling your skirt.

“I didn’t know you owned one of these,” he pinches the hem, “you really got yourself prettied up, huh?”

You don’t say anything.

“Can I make a suggestion? Doesn’t matter, I’m gonna. Try something shorter. You got the tight part but this is something my fourth grade librarian would wear. Oh, and lace. Or silk.”

You want to scream at him. Does he really think you can afford all that? That you want your ass or tits hanging out in front of your daughter? He knows all that, he’s once again making a joke of you.

“Aw, tootsie roll, am I upsetting you? Well, that’s real fucking shit,” his voice goes rigid, “I was pretty upset listening to your voicemail on fucking repeat.”

“Sorry, I told you–”

“I don’t care. Busy? Not in my world. Let’s get this straight, the only thing you’ll be busy with is me. Or… I think Petey Boy may just love to hear all about your workplace antics. I mean really, he should be proud, you’re fucking skilled. That man, I see why he put a ring on it. Wherever it is… Shit…” he skids to a stop at a sign and looks at you, “you didn’t have to pawn it off? That’s goddamn sad, honey buns.”

You inhale and lift your chin. That would be a better story than the truth. Besides, you have a feeling he doesn’t genuinely care.

“I’ll buy you a new diamond. Two of them, one for each titty,” he chortles as he steps on the gas again, “what’s your birthstone? I’ll get that for your ass.”

“Mr. Hansen, I understand you’re upset. I didn’t listen. I didn’t answer the phone, but I can’t just leave my family–”

“You will do whatever I tell you,” he interjects, “first, you’re going to stop. No more excuses, you figure it out. Second,” he veers into a lot, just behind an unmarked office building, “you’re going to loosen the fuck up.”

He steers around to the back of the lot, parking slightly crooked and across the lines. There aren’t too many other cars this time of evening. He turns off the engine and rolls his shoulders. Well, it’s not a Wendy’s at least.

“Get in the back,” he orders.

You want to ask what or why but you know better. You get out and open the back door. You sit on the end of the seat.

“Lay down,” he says, still facing forward.

You glance at him, slightly confused. You slide up the seat and recline. His seat belt snaps back against the interior and his door opens. Gravel crunches under his soles and his shadow passes between the car and the streetlights. He darkens the open back door.

“Pull your fucking skirt up,” he orders in exasperation, as if you should’ve done so already.

You lift your shoulders and reach down to tug at your skirt. It’s hard to get it up, it’s tight and uncomfortable, you should’ve thrown it out. You feel the zipper about to burst. Impatiently, he shoves the hem up as he bends over the seat.

You’re suddenly very self-conscious as you realise what he’s going to do. He holds himself between your thighs as his hand crawls up to your panties. High-rise cotton underwear that balloon a bit too much around your pelvis.

“Sir, I’ll just take care of you,” you insist as you try to sit up.

“Fuck off,” he snarls, “lay down.”

You blink as your lip twitches. You can’t remember the last time Pete did that. You’re not okay. You don’t want Hansen down there. You really don’t want anyone at this point.

“Really, Mr.--”

“Lay the fuck back and shut up while I eat your pussy,” he grabs your panties and yanks, jolting you.

You fall back as he forces the fabric down. He growls and rips along the seam. You close your eyes and tense. As he exposes you, your thighs quiver.

He presses his face against your leg, his mustache tickling you as his breath dampens your skin. You swallow a shiver. You’re oversensitive and strung out. You squeeze your eyes tight and focus on your breath as he nuzzles and nips up towards your cunt.

You clench as he gets closer. Without thinking, you push your hand to his head as you try to stop him. Your heart is racing. Why is this harder than what you’ve already done?

He snatches your hand and throws your arm over the edge of the seat. You wince as he bites into your tender thigh. You squeak and he growls, his nose grazing up to your lips. You hold your breath as he closes in.

His tongue flicks up and you gasp. He glides between your folds, delving into you, humming so it rumbles through you. You raise your hand to grip the back of the seat. You forgot how nice this felt.

He takes it slow. A patience you’ve never seen in him as he dotes on your clit, swirling back and forth, suckling, dipping his tongue up and down your lips, lapping up your flowing delight. You quiver as you sink into the sensation, almost forgetting the man who’s inspired it.

His hand creeps up to your blouse, beneath your open jacket, and he squeezes your chest through the fabric. You wiggles his head back and forth as his tending grows more intense. He spreads his tongue wide and groans, his mouth slurping and sucking noisily.

The heat spreads into your thighs and tingles up your back. You arch your spine and dig your nails into the seat. You puff as you feel a climax rising. Hansen stretches his other hand over your stomach, pinning you down as he devours you ravenously.

You’re tipped over the edge, letting out a series of squeaks and squawks as you give into the orgasm. You’re dizzy from the sheer ecstasy of the moment, of his still lapping tongue, not stopping even as you cry out. He keeps on, urged on by your helpless moans. As in everything, it’s never enough for him.

#lloyd hansen #pete brenner #dark lloyd hansen #dark pete brenner #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!pete brenner #lloyd hansen x reader #pete brenner x reader #same as it ever was #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #the gray man #pain hustlers

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