#Muse: Agent 4

[shadow3142]

Oh hello

[agentpinesmustdie]

The following is a test of Agency communication lines.

she spy on my liar till i rising pho-

[handelgamer]

My top 5 weapons in Splatoon 3! I'm going to be taking all of these into Grandfest as a capstone to my time in Splatoon 3.

Flingza Roller is my best with over a thousand wins. Splat Roller was my first five star with 618 wins. Wiper Deco is third with 416 wins and with Flingza, was a one two combo to get the gold Tenta Missles badge. Splatana Wiper has 167 and my current main, Order Shot, is 143. OC musings under cut!

Miss Flingza Roller Mika is my main oc for this game. She's pursuing a career out of being a rock musician...and is curently dating Callie! (hehehehe) Probably going to be retiring her as an oc after this game, likely will be too busy with work to do much Turfing or Salmon Run. Team Future, because she has a lot to look forward to!

Splat Roller...eh. That was early in the game I pushed it and I don't think I had a specific oc in mind. I'm using my design for Cap 3, as I was primarlly leveling it in anticpiation for Krak-On Roller...which I only got to 4 stars because, unlike back in Splat 1, I found the lack of entry tools when on the defensive annoying. Oh to be older and more competitively aware! Team Past, because it is my nostalgia for Splat 1 that keeps me loving the rollers.

My Wiper Deco is...Agent 4! Le gasp! My headcanon for her is that she feels guilty about nearly causing the end of the world with her Salmon Running in Splat 2 and so she is studying Marine Biology to try to help out! Also in the collegate turfing team. ...also this was picked up to help with my certified nusicance gold Tenta Missles badge. nehehehehe. Going Future because she's ready and hyped for it and also maybe there will be 4 there!

Splatana Wiper is also a unique OC. Monique! Splatlandian native in her last year of high school. Off the Hook fan. She doesn't want to think about the future, she's not doing that hot in school. D-grade, tend to be traunt to do Turf War. Her future is probably like her dad, taking up lots of odd and part time jobs, including Salmon Run. Let's just have fun in the Present.

My current main, Order Shot, is 8! 8's also in college and is studying biology and science. Mostly going, WTF are inklings and octolings so suspectable to being altered by stuff such as sanitization and fuzzifaction. Also in collegate turfing team but will go pro if he gets scouted. He is very much where I put the most try-hard of my urges in Splatoon. Anyway ride-or-die Off the Hook so Present.

[orbitaldeathwoomy]

[Dion is laying on his couch, mindlessly scrolling Squidder. After about an hour, he sighs, puts the phone in his pocket, and rolls over to face the back of the couch.]

"Puh, friends? Why would they act like I'm anything but a liability to them?"

"...A liability--"

[Suddenly, his thoughts are interrupted by a knock at his door. He lets out a sigh, before reluctantly getting up and going over to answer it...]

"Hi, Dion!"

"Uh... What're you doing here?"

"We came to see you, obviously."

[Dion falls silent for a few moments, before letting out a huff and gestures for the others to come in.]

"Make it quick."

"C'mon, don't be like that! Look, we brought pizza!"

[Ursula walks in after everyone else, holding a box of pizza.]

"...Really? You're trying to bribe me with food?"

"It's more of an offering of peace."

[Dion shakes his head, but still takes the pizza from Ursula and puts it on his coffee table. He then sits down next to the table, and moves to take a slice.]

"So what was so important that you needed to come to my apartment with no warning?"

"What? Can't friends visit friends without warning every once in a while?"

[A scowl covers Dion's face at this.]

"Cut the act, Cerrin. We all know that you guys don't consider me a friend, and you're only here to lecture me about some stupid thing I did."

"...Did you do something stupid?"

"No! What makes you think I did?"

"What makes you think we don't consider you our friend?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe it's the teasing? Or how you always point out my flaws? Or, just maybe, it’s the constant scolding every time I get hurt in Alterna or you just think I did something stupid?"

[There is a short silence, before Cerrin lets out a sigh.]

"Dion... We do that because we care about you."

"Yeah! And we all tease each other all the time, it's all in good fun! We don't mean any harm by it!"

"That's a load of shit and you know--"

[Insert Koa getting up and grabbing him by his shirt collar.]

"No. We are not doing this! You've never listened to our advice when we tried being gentle with you, and do stupid shit despite being warned multiple times not to! How else are we supposed to get anything through your thick head, if not through harsh words and criticism?!"

"........."

"You remind me of my parents..."

[orbitaldeathwoomy-a]

[Meanwhile, back at the Alterna base... Ruby approaches Cerrin, who is sitting on the ground looking up at the false sky.]

"Still mad?"

"Not really."

[She sits down next to him, and a short pause follows as he considers what he wants to say.]

"Y'know, he kind of surprised me."

"How so?"

"Honestly, I kind of pegged him as just another cocky, rich asshole, but what he said... It made me ask myself, "What would make him say something like that so earnestly?""

"Cerrin..."

"And that got me thinking. No matter what I've been through, it doesn't change the fact that something made him feel the way he does, and that it could have messed him up the same way my experiences messed me up."

"Just because I went through things he doesn't understand doesn't mean I understand what he's been through. It doesn't mean his experiences are any less just because they weren't "as bad" as mine were..."

"Maybe... you should tell him that."

"Yeah..."

[caracalclaws]

OC Inspiration || Dash Game

[s-blast92]

i need an excuse to talk about my ocs

[new-squidbese-fattoon]

Loud, booming footsteps echoed out behind Agent 4, the ground shaking with each. Behind her stood an absolutely IMMENSE figure, easily larger than an entire house.

She appeared to be an octoling - the Rival type native to Octo Canyon to be specific - sporting pitch black tentacle hair accessorized with kelp, denoting her as one of the most skilled among her peers. She was utterly gargantuan; at her weight it was a miracle that she could even stand up, let alone walk.

This blob of an octoling looked down at Agent 4 - at least as well as she could, given how difficult it was to see past her own belly - with a malicious grin on her face.

"Well look what we've got here...~"

[Sent by @massive-muse-madness !]

Hearing the thundering footsteps, this immediately made Agent 4 pull out her Hero Slosher and quickly look around. Whatever was coming, she was going to be ready for it! Though the second that her eyes had finally settled upon the massive mass of an Elite Octoling, especially after hearing her talk... The second shortest agent out of the entire Splatoon couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"Oh cod, and here I was thinking I'd be fighting something DANGEROUS!" Four stated. "Instead, looks like I'm facing nothing more than an Octo who's as slow as a snail~ Though I can't really call it facing unless I do something like THIS, can I?"

And before the Elite could even ask Four to elaborate what she meant, the agent in question grabbed onto the Octoling's fat and CLIMB up her body!

[writingwithfolklore]

How to Hold Yourself Accountable as a Professional Writer

              Okay maybe you’re not self-employed or professional yet and writing definitely isn’t bringing in the big bucks, but you’d like it to some day, and you’re working right now on making that a reality. This post is for you, because the best time to practice getting into a healthy writing habit and holding yourself accountable to writing for that future where it’s your full time gig is now—before it’s essential to do so.

1. It will never be easy

It’s easy to think that maintaining a schedule or habit for writing would be easy if only it was your full-time gig and all you needed to do. While it might be easier than trying to cram in writing between classes or jobs, it will never be easy. You’re always going to have multiple things going on, there’s always going to be something you could be or need to be doing other than writing. Developing good habits right now, when it is really hard, is going to set you up far better than just waiting for it to get easy before you fully commit to it.

2. Set a schedule that actually works for you

I did a whole post on making a writing schedule you can actually manage and maintain here:

But the TL;DR is that in order to keep to a schedule, you have to make sure it’s attainable. Fit when you write around your other life schedule. For example, if you’re really not a morning person, planning on waking up at 5am every morning to write for a couple hours is probably not something you’ll be able to maintain. But setting aside an hour before bed may be more manageable for you.

3. Form a habit

To train your brain to make your writing schedule a habit you’ll actually stick to, you should make it into a routine. Similar to how you have a bedtime routine that sets you up to feel sleepy at night, a routine that sets you up for writing will make it harder to turn away from your manuscript, and help inspire a productive writing block.

              You can create a writing playlist with songs that inspire your project you listen to whenever you begin writing, make a tea or other drink to sip on while you write, grab a snack, share your schedule with a writing buddy and write together, put together a document of inspiring quotes, photos, or other muses you can read, or really anything that gets you into the writing mood. By following this routine every time you set up to write, you’ll train your brain to get into a mindset that will make it easier to stick to your writing block.

4. Reward yourself

Brains love doing things for a reward. Maybe after a productive writing block you can spend some time doing something else you love, like watching an episode of your favourite show, lighting a candle, taking a bath, or having a glass of wine, I don’t know, anything that would give your brain the happy juice in response to your good work.

5. Set deadlines and goals

Writing consistently is basically the majority of the battle. I don’t typically worry about word count, but I do know that it can be helpful for others to set wordcount goals and deadlines to ensure productivity. If that sounds like you, make sure your goals are actionable while also being attainable. “Finish novel” isn’t a great goal, but “write 2000 words per week for three months” could be helpful if you know that 2000 words is attainable for you.

              Same as before, you can also set rewards for when you reach your goals. I have a big tattoo upcoming if I complete my goal for the year.

              The last tip I have for this point is to try to find an accountabili-buddy to hold you to your goals and deadlines if you think that would be helpful for you. As a professional writer, you may be held accountable by an editor or agent, so practicing through asking a buddy to help you set deadlines and deliverables will help prepare you for writing towards a date.

The TL;DR is find out what works for you and practice doing it consistently! Anything else I missed?

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter f! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: You know how each president of the U.S. gets a painting at the end of their term? I'm thinking like that. Plus, my favorite hobby is recreating renaissance art, so I figured this was a good fit (hopefully).

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 1: The Sketches

It was late at night when Leon made his decision to retire fully.

He had gotten home over an hour ago from reviewing mountains of paperwork, most of which pertained to missions that other agents have gone on or will be going on.

Younger agents. More energized agents.

The fact that he hadn't gone on a full mission since San Francisco was driving him up the wall. But that's what he wanted. He requested to hang back the last two years.

Both Chris and Claire had fully retired themselves right after San Fran, Claire being the first to retire to focus on her growing family with Chris following suit only a few months later. Jill was still around, but she was doing similar work that Leon was, only she was in a completely different department which was states away.

Of course Leon still talked with them all as regularly as possible, he'd go insane if he didn't, especially with Claire having a couple kids now. He wasn't the greatest with children, but it was refreshing seeing his friends achieve such normalcy. He wanted them to have the best life they could away from everything.

Having turned 40 a few some months ago, Leon was having a bit of a mid-life crisis. The mission to San Francisco a couple years ago had made him realize just how much toll the job itself had taken on his body. After being assessed and allowed home a few nights after returning from the mission, his body ached; joints creaking, back nearly thrown, just... tired.

Don't get him wrong, he was always tired after missions, but this was different. This wasn't just the regular aches and pains he dealt with after being tossed around like a rag doll, this was age.

Deep in his mind, Leon was still that 21 year old boy in Raccoon City. He never got the chance to properly grieve and move on, his mind forever changed by that event. Mentally, he was stuck there and had been this entire time.

It had taken the man this long to truly recognize the fact that he's older now. He's not that boy from Raccoon City anymore. He hadn't been in a long time.

What was he do to now? Leon had wanted so badly to serve and protect the people, but not like this. Not like he has for the past 29 years.

He spent his most formative years fighting unimaginable horrors, watching people suffer, watching people die. You don't just come back from something like that.

And unlike the friends he's managed to keep close, Leon didn't have someone he trusted. Hell, he barely trusted himself most days.

So now here he was, sitting drunk in his shower with his legs pulled up to his chest, his arms resting atop his knees while the water pelted down on him, silently mulling over everything he's ever seen and done during his time as an agent.

The water had grown cold at this point, Leon having quickly lost track of how long he was sitting spaced out like that for. Thankfully, he'd already cleaned himself before he ended up sitting down, so the hardest part now was just standing back up to get himself back out.

It took him a couple more minutes before he finally hoisted himself up with a tired groan, both his knees popping from being stuck in position for such a lengthy amount of time.

Once out of the shower, towel loosely wrapped around his waist, Leon stared at himself in the mirror; busy studying the crow's feet on both outer corners of his eyes as well as the prominent bags sitting under them, the smile line around his mouth, his now brown hair, the stubble on his face and neck that's he's neglected to shave, and just how exhausted he looked.

How has he never noticed any of this before? Why's he look so different now?

Settling into bed after this brutal realization was a tough task. The man followed his nightly routine of taking four Tylenol and two of his prescription sleep meds before setting his a/c 65 degrees Fahrenheit. He learned quickly many years ago that tossing and turning at night would make him overheat and sweat.

But tonight, nothing Leon did could ease that sinking feeling in his chest, that feeling of unfulfillmemt and shame weighing on him more than ever before.

The poor man barely slept at all last night, hangover evident by the way he was still slightly uneven on his feet as he leaned over the center island in his kitchen, head between his forearms while his hands sat clasped together.

Leon knew what he had to do. He's been feeling it ever since Chris and Claire made their departure, but it was so easy to deny. How was he suppose to give up the one thing that made him important? Sure the stress of his work was heavily tasking on the mind and body, but it's what gave him purpose. He felt useful doing what he did.

The man showed up for work late that day, barely having managed to dress himself. He didn't know exactly who to go to in this scenario, but everyone seemed surprised that the Leon Kennedy would show up for work in some ratty t-shirt and grey sweatpants. The stares were making him incredibly uncomfortable and he was quickly regretting showing up at all.

After sitting in his own office for awhile to avoid the looks and whispers, Leon eventually sauntered over to his superior's office, an almost solemn look on his face as he let himself in after knocking.

Needless to say, Leon was relieved his superior knew this was coming. Slightly offended, but relieved nonetheless.

It had been a long time coming, and it was only a matter of time before Leon threw in the towel, especially since he was now just working behind the scenes instead of on the frontline.

He was allowed to return home for the rest of the day if he wanted to, which Leon quickly took. He really didn't want to be in that building for much longer.

As soon as he returned home he went right back to drinking. And as ashamed as he is to admit, he even cried a little, half empty whiskey bottle in one hand while the other was clenched tightly into a fist as he gripped the pant leg of his sweats.

There wasn't anyone Leon could talk to about this. Chris and Claire had their own respective partners to come home to after retirement, but Leon? Leon had nothing besides a dingy and cold two bedroom house with only the basics inside, including his alcohol cabinet.

The man didn't even give himself time to date, only the occasional one night stand with randoms from the bar. He was too afraid that he would endanger anyone he allowed into his life like that, not to mention he'd been betrayed one too many times to trust in someone that way again. It was his way of keeping himself and everyone else safe.

The therapists he was assigned throughout the years all had the same concern regarding his love life, and deep down Leon was just as concerned, but he rationalized it with that hero complex he developed.

But he just couldn't rationalize it anymore. Leon was alone. He was alone, sad, and afraid.

About a month after Leon's retirement was processed and announced, word spread quickly throughout numerous government branches. There was a celebration set up at the White House to honor his service as a field agent.

The President had separated him and Leon from the party to slowly walk through the many hallways in the building. The old man could tell just how bothered the now ex-agent was by his retirement, so he figured now would be the best time to talk to him about his final task.

"You know," The President spoke up after a couple minutes of the two walking in silence, prompting Leon to slowly turn his head to listen. "I'm sure you've heard it so many times tonight, but you truly were one of the best agents I've ever seen."

Leon chuckled quietly, shaking his head a bit at the compliment. He had heard it a lot tonight, but obviously it was different coming from him.

"I'm serious. This county, probably the entire world, would've been in shambles if not for your hours spent." The President continued, slowing his walking to a stop.

"It means more than you know." Leon responded simply, voice a bit gravelly from the few drinks he's had. He took a couple steps more before stopping as well, turning around to face the prominent old man.

The President sighed, giving him a sympathetic smile while nodding. They stood in silence for a brief moment before the old man spoke up again, pointing lazily down the hall. "Follow me, I've got something I want to show you."

From there, the two wandered further down the halls until eventually reaching one hall that had lights more centered towards the walls, highlighting the picture frames that sat evenly spaced out amongst them.

Leon seemed a tad confused until he was able to focus on the first painting they walked by. He knew each president got a portrait painted after their full term was served, but the man in this painting wasn't a past president.

He stopped walking to stand in front of the painting, admiring the details it had before glancing down at the bottom of the elegant frame, a placard reading a name he didn't recognize. What he did recognize, though, was the word Agent that sat in front of the man's name.

While zoned into the placard, Leon didn't register the gentle hand that had been clasped on his shoulder, the President's voice breaking through his trance. "For as long as there's been bioweapons, we've had agents fighting to stop them. But only a few agents have truly outdone themselves. Agents like you."

Leon blinked a couple times before turning his head to look at the hand on his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. He wasn't quite understanding what he was saying.

The President took his silence as a cue to continue, his sympathetic smile turning into a happier one as he gently tugged Leon's shoulder to get him to start walking again. "The D.S.O. has produced some of the greatest agents since Benford created it back in 2011. You were amazing before, but you've outdone yourself time and time again."

Leon still wasn't quite understanding, really only half listening as he kept his eyes trained to the numerous portraits of agents as he slowly passed them.

The two stopped in front of the last painting in the hallway, only a few spots away from leading into another hallway. It was Chris and Claire in this painting. Chris was sitting down in a chair while Claire stood next to him, hand resting on back of it, both of them smiling.

He studied the painting for a minute longer before whipping his head around to face the President, who was still smiling, as the realization slowly settling in.

"I-" Leon struggling to speak, glancing back at the painting before quickly looking back at the old man standing next to him.

The President simply nodded his head, smile widening with a gentle laugh. "Right. The painting process takes a bit of time, but I think you've more than earned this."

The ex-agent had so many questions. Firstly, why hadn't Chris or Claire mentioned this? But more importantly, he gets to have his own portrait painted?

"The painter knows all about you. She's excited to meet you." The President started down the hall again, Leon not far behind, still stuttering out nonsense as he attempted to form even a sentence. "I'll give you the information you need to get started with her. I have it written down back in my office."

A painting?

A painting. A painting for him. A painting to honor him. What?

Leon was once again sat on his couch, blankly staring at the small business card with a date and time written on it in pen. He'd read the info on the card so many times already, wanting to make sure he got absolutely nothing wrong.

Apparently he didn't have to call and confirm, all he had to do was show up to this random address at a specific date and time, which was soon. In a couple days kind of soon. Also, he thought he was reading the time wrong, but no, it was four in the morning, not four in the afternoon. What an odd and rather inconvenient time.

Even after memorizing the business card front to back, Leon would be lying if he said he didn't forget about meeting up with this mystery painter. He'd been rather aloof the past couple months, it was hard to pull himself out of that funk. He'd been staying up late and sleeping in even later, so hitting snooze on his alarm a good few times was just muscle memory at this point.

It was almost 5am when he realized where he was suppose to be, eyes shooting open as he yanked himself out of bed, desperately trying to clean himself up enough to be at least presentable.

The man was mentally chastising himself the entire drive. It was a short drive, which he was surprised by, and the building seemed quaint; red brick with large windows that sat on what looked like either a second or third floor.

He parked his bike right near what he assumed was the main door, pulling off his motorcycle helmet before knocking and waiting.

The last thing Leon was expecting was you to unlock and open that door; young and pretty, so pretty...

"Mr. Kennedy?" You asked, eyebrows raised slightly with a small smile. He nodded, just barely noticeable, reaching a gloved hand up to wipe at his eyes as he caught himself staring.

Your smile only widened at his nod, stepping aside to allow him into walk in. It took him a minute to realize you were still talking, shaking his head out to refocus himself.

"-again, really, no need to worry about being late. I was trying to work with your schedule but I should've known it's changed up a bit by now, right?" You lead him up a set of narrow stairs, though he was mostly following the smell of your perfume. It was such a light smell but he definitely picked up on it.

You opened a door immediately to the left of the stairs, letting Leon follow you inside. The sun was just starting to rise, shining through the large windows in the open room.

The place was cluttered, yet organized. Crowded, but that just made it all the cozier to Leon. His house was bare and lacked any sort of personality, but this... this place was covered in you.

"I'm glad you like it in here." You said in a quiet voice, looking up at him as he took in your workspace. He was smiling ever so slightly, which you mimicked with a smile of your own. "I try to make it welcoming in here, my apartment is the same way.."

Your voice trailed off as you walked over to a mostly put together set up near the back of the room where the only wall without windows sat. There was a chair sitting close to the wall, the same chair Chris was sitting in for his portrait with Claire, along with your easel sitting empty a few feet away.

Leon stood frozen, only moving his head around as he took everything in. He followed you with his eyes as you fumbled around with something, eventually producing a blank 24" x 36" canvas that was still wrapped in thin plastic.

His mouth made an 'o' shape as he pulled himself from his small trance once again, beginning to slowly make his way over to the set up you've made. He placed his helmet down on the floor beside the chair.

After placing the canvas on the easel, you walked back over to where you'd gotten the canvas from before grabbing a heavily used sketchbook. It was a large one, the paper a light brown instead of white.

Leon had only just realized that there was a faint sound of some form of classical music playing from somewhere in the room, glancing around for speakers before looking back over at you.

"I'm not getting started today, we're a couple steps away from that, so don't worry about appearance just yet." You said softly with a breathy laugh, quickly making your way back over to where he stood next to the plush chair in your setup, his hand feeling over the worn maroon fabric.

Leon nodded silently, moving to sit down once you requested he did, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched you drag over a small table. You worked fast, that's for sure.

Eventually, you'd set up a little tabletop easel to sit on the table you'd dragged in front of him, grabbing your swivel chair to sit in as you placed your sketchbook on the easel, open to a blank page.

"I just need to get some basic ideas of your facial structure since that's most important when it comes to these kinds of paintings. You're gonna be wearing a nice tuxedo when I do the second- no, third sketch for the final painting, but this is just for me to get a feel for you and vise versa." You rambled quickly, pulling out a pencil from one of your pockets before fully sitting down on the chair, bringing your legs up to sit criss cross.

"Uh.. Alright..." Leon responded, clearing his throat a bit. He didn't really understand what you'd said, you spoke a little too fast for his tired brain to keep up, but it seemed like whatever you were doing was necessary so he just rolled with it.

He was left a little speechless again at how you just began sketching, glancing up to his face and down to the page you were working on over and over. "...do you need me to, I don't know, pose or something?"

The way you kept looking at him was making feel a little uneasy. Granted he's never been in this sort of situation before, this whole process was very unfamiliar to him.

"No, no. You can move your head around and stuff. Get comfortable." You waved off, eyes wrinkling as you smiled at him. Leon nodded again, deciding to take the opportunity to look around your workspace again.

It really was a cozy space. Full of color and life, even the curtains you had lining the windows offered so much pattern and detail to the room. The back of the room where the two of you sat was more cluttered with less decor, but the front of the room was a whole different story with those massive floor pillows, blankets of all sorts strewn about, that big fluffy looking area rug, it was all so... homey. It was even inspiring him to decorate his own house a bit.

The sound of your pencil scribbling on paper and the faint sound of the classical music playing was all Leon could hear for awhile, eventually letting out an anxious sigh before beginning to talk. "So... a painter, huh..?"

"Oh yeah, I've been doing this since I was little. Obviously I wasn't that good back then, but I really improved after high school." You immediately responded, voice a little louder than his. Clearly the topic excites you. "If you want, I can hand you one of my other sketchbooks to look at while I do my thing over here?"

Leon patted his hands against the arms of the chair before nodding to the side, pursing his lips slightly. "Mm, sure. Let's see what ya got.."

As soon as he agreed, you stood up and shuffled over to the corner of the room where some desks sat arranged in a makeshift cubicle. You opened a drawer and pulled out a couple sketchbooks, still as raggedy as the one you were using now.

Walking back over, you carefully handed them to him, which he slowly took after meeting your eyes for a brief moment.

Once you made your way back to your chair, he placed both sketchbooks into his lap, opening up the one on top first. The man flipped through them silently as you began to sketch him out again.

You'd zoned into your work, adding just a bit of shading to your sketches to help emphasis some features when Leon cleared his throat again. You leaned to the side to look at him, your smile quickly returning when you saw his baffled expression.

"These are... wow, okay, how old are you?" Leon asked, head jerking upwards to meet your gaze once more. You just giggled in response, using the pencil as a fidget before returning to sketching.

"Sorry-uh, I don't mean to come off as rude or anything, but to be honest, I was expecting you to be some old lady when I saw the portraits you've done." Leon was quick to try and explain, probably misinterpreting your lack of response for unease.

Your giggle turned to a small laugh, leaning to the side once more to look at the man. "Well, I'm glad I could surprise you a bit. Hopefully I don't look old."

Leon groaned and wiped his hand down his face. "Again, sorry. Didn't mean to imply." He shook his head and looked back down at the two sketchbooks sitting in his lap, continuing to flip through them.

It was only a couple hours until you decided you got a good enough feel for drawing his face. Grabbing the sketchbook, you stood up, pencil still in hand, looking down at the sketches you made as you slowly walked over to him.

The man noticed you standing up, quickly moving to close the sketchbooks you'd given him in favor of seeing your new sketches.

"I... I think this'll be enough today. I don't want to keep you too long." You said, handing him the sketchbook. Leon took it from you, careful not to smudge anything as he finally got to see what you've been doing for the past two hours.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he studied the sketches you'd made of his face, seeing all the different angles, even the smile, how'd you get his smile?

You seemed to grow nervous the longer he stared at your sketchbook in silence, his intense look making it seem as if he didn't really like them. "Are they... Are they okay?"

Leon jostled the sketchbook a bit in his hands before standing up, now towering over you as he kept his eyes on the paper. "Just okay? These are beyond amazing."

You let out a small breath you didn't notice you were holding, heat rushing to your cheeks as you smiled at his compliment. "Oh, thank you.. I'm sorry, normally sketches don't take this long but it was stressed to me that your portrait was very important so I wanted to get everything as perfect as I could.."

"Seriously, you're a mad woman if you think these wouldn't be good." Leon chuckled, handing the sketchbook back to you. He kept his eyes trained on you, even after you turned to look down and close the sketchbook. Only a fool would miss that blush on your cheeks, it looked good on you.

"Anyways, when should I come back for the next.. uh..." Leon paused, crossing his arms loosely as he struggled to think of the word.

Luckily, you finished the sentence for him. "Session. Again, this painting's importance was stressed to me a lot, so probably the next time you're available?" You talked while you shifted the small table back to where it had originally sat under one of the numerous windows, tossing the sketchbook down on the chair cushion.

"Alright, since it's importance has now been stressed to me as well, I can probably clear up some stuff in my schedule. How's tomorrow sound?" Obviously, Leon had a completely free schedule, but you didn't need to know that.

"Tomorrow works great! The sooner the better!" You laughed, placing a gentle hand on his bicep as you walked past him to grab a sticky note. "I'll give you my personal number, just let me know when you're thinking of coming over and I'll meet you here, okay?"

Leon looked at your number before pocketing the note, nodding his head with a smile of his own. "Sounds good. Same way out?" He pointed to the door that you brought him in through, bending down to pick up his motorcycle helmet right after.

You confirmed with a thumbs up, now drinking water from your water bottle as you'd forgotten too while focused on drawing. You felt bad for not offering him any water while he was here, but you won't forget next time.

The man gave you a curt wave before leaving the room, quietly shutting the door behind himself.

You had to admit, you've worked with a very small handful of agents since it takes a lot for them to earn their own portrait, but Leon Kennedy had to be the one of the most handsome men you've ever worked with. Maybe even one of the most handsome men you've ever seen.

Lucky you pay attention to detail, cause you definitely didn't see a ring on his finger.

[easy-there-leftovers]

Magnum Opus (Prologue)

When an MIT prodigy on their gap year is contacted by the FBI regarding potential involvement in a series of murders in Washington D.C., she must now cooperate to uncover how paintings are mysteriously appearing at the crime scenes. (Written with Season 1-4 Spencer in mind, but the timeline could be anywhere pre-season 12. No mentions of past cases)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Artist! reader|cw: Canon-typical violence|word count: 700 words

Notes: I made up a bunch of chemicals and their chemical properties up so shhhh!! Also, I'm not American, I have no contextual understanding of the distance of one place to another. The US is large enough.

Also on Ao3!!

Series Masterlist

---------

"Muses are the silent artists of our souls, whispering inspiration into the canvas of our thoughts, painting the colors of creativity with the brushstrokes of imagination." - Author Unknown.

“Seven months ago, one freelance architect named James Carter aged 42 was murdered in his own home in Newton Massachusetts. The victim was posed like the painting placed at the foot of his own couch. All forms of ID on him were missing.” 

JJ made her way from the map inside the meeting room to the screen to present pictures of the crime scene. All other agents made their way inside, with Garcia jotting down notes, as they listened and took their respective places.

“Four months after that, indie artist Daniel Lopez, aged 25, was also found dead in her apartment with another painting and missing ID. Posed just like the girl in it too. Autopsy revealed similar entry and exit wounds through the chest.” 

Images of the victims’ wounds that have already been cleaned up were exposed to the camera. Wounds that could’ve been missed if investigations weren’t conducted made themselves notable as Emily and Spencer opened up their files.

“Ballistics?” 

JJ shook her head at Morgan's question. “No bullets were found.”

“The unsub probably killed them somewhere secluded, then placed them back in their home.” Emily looked to Spencer, only to see him already getting up towards the screen.

“Look at the way they’re dressed. Clothes fitted like that aren’t meant to be worn without the intention of meeting someone.”  Spencer motioned to their clothes. “They didn’t intend to go just anywhere looking like that.”

“Yeah, well neither did this man.” JJ then presented a picture of another victim, another male, another painting, posed in another home. She then turned to redress the rest of the team. “Found yesterday with similar signatures. The only difference is that he was actually staged in a vacant apartment. Everything in there was left by the previous owners. Still no ID on him.”

The resident team genius furrowed his eyebrows at the information, turning to see what the others thought. “Kills both males and females…”

“Victims were found with their clothes on. Dressed to impress but no signs of torture, no experimentation,” Hotch lifted the pictures nearer to his face. “Doesn’t look like he’s interested in either.”

“A serial killer with no sexual preference?” Emily raised her brow at that.

“Wouldn’t be the first.” Spencer replied, looking closer at the paintings in his own file. “Although the subjects in the paintings look exactly like the victims they’re placed on. It brings up the question of which one came first, the person depicted in the painting, or the painting itself…”

“Says here forensics found no prints anywhere but did find traces of  5-dur– durasta—”

“5-durastalene. Also known as ‘Lunacite.’” Spencer corrected Rossi.

“Actually, this synthetic compound is a little on the newer side, a compound that was originally developed by an MIT student for their dissertation in the Chemical Engineering program. I tried figuring out what the naming convention she used was but she didn’t give an explanation on that part. I assumed it could’ve been one out of a number of references, ranging from an anagram of—”

“How new are we talking?” Hotch interrupted, but deeply thankful that someone on the team seemed to have a lead.

“13 months, 2 weeks, and 5 days new. But it’s weird.” Spencer punctuates his statement by flicking through the papers. 

“The compound shouldn’t be commercially available anywhere and it’s meant to make other materials resistant to corrosion. No one should be using it in paint, let alone processing it.” The team let his words ring in their head before Hotch broke the silence.

“Garcia, look for MIT graduates who have worked with Lunacite and a background in fine arts.”

“Already way ahead of you chief, and deliciously, only one name fits the bill in every angle you can have it.” Their tech analyst who had been typing away then placed her laptop pointedly and turned it onto the round table for everyone to see. Everyone leans forward, but the BAU’s resident pretty boy is the one who says the name out loud.

“Y/N L/N.” On the screen is a put-together picture of you on various digital scans of your passport, driver’s license, doctoral degrees in Chemical Engineering and Anthropology, and undergrad degrees in both Philosophy and Sociology.

“Watch out, pretty boy. You may have just found your match.” Morgan’s comment is greeted with a few snickers, much to Spencer’s dismay.

------------

[ddejavvu]

Hotch with a totally shy medical examiner!!! He always visits her although sometimes it would‘nt be necessary ... 🫣🫣 Hotch got a crushhhhhh !!

The team notices that Hotch seems to be injuring himself more and more now that Quantico has a medical wing installed. Because of a rather unfortunate incident on floor 4, where a woman had an allergic reaction and no one was able to find her an epipen in time, there's now a mini-clinic located just across the elevators on floor 5.

Hotch doesn't even bother notifying his team of where he's going this time. He simply barrels towards the glass doors that shield the BAU from the hallway outside, but JJ doesn't let him escape that easily.

"Hotch, is everything okay?"

She expects him to say that there's been some sort of emergency at Jack's school, that he needs to pick the boy up. But she shouldn't, she should have expected what must be the most frequent phrase out of his mouth in the past three weeks.

"Fine. I've got a headache, I'm going to the clinic."

He offers no room for his team's replies as he pushes through the glass doors, standing by the elevators and waiting impatiently. His gaze is so intense on the metal doors that he's surprised he doesn't burn right through them, but the elevator finally reaches him, and he steps inside without looking back into the BAU to see his team members staring.

"He's so full of shit," Derek scoffs, "He doesn't have a headache."

"I think he's got a perpetual headache," Reid muses, and Rossi, who'd been working on stirring his third cup of coffee for the day pipes up.

"I would, if I had to manage you bozos all day," The man grins wryly, but doesn't exclude himself from the conversation; for all his teasing, he wants to gossip about Hotch too.

"Nah. He just wants to see the hot nurse," Derek insists, "I've seen her. She's cute, and all, but she's no Savannah."

"Maybe I should have a headache later," Emily muses, lost in thought and toying with the necklace resting on her chest.

"He's gonna have to start finding new excuses," Derek leans back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other with his ankle against his knee, "Maybe he'll ask one of us to shoot him just so he can get her hands all over him packing up the bullet hole."

"And that is my cue to leave," Rossi grimaces, "I don't often like mixing sex with wound care."

The older man pointedly ignores Derek's comment about how that's probably why he's thrice divorced; he's not freaky enough. He shuts his office door behind him and conversation putters out among the bullpen, each agent stuck with a residual smirk on their faces as they get back to their paperwork.

--

"Agent Hotchner," You smile kindly up at the man who steps through the doors of your clinic, "I'm not sure why I even looked up, I should have known it was you."

He chuckles bashfully, hands tucked into his pockets, "I haven't been getting much sleep lately, so I've got a pretty persistent migraine."

"Is it hard, sleeping after a day at your job? The things you see," You trail off, reaching into a drawer at your desk to retrieve a bottle of excedrin, "I don't think I'd be sleeping either."

Aaron's suddenly flustered by your concern for him. He'd intended for his poorly crafted excuse to come across as light insomnia, too much coffee during the day or a scary movie at night. But as you reach out to hand over two tablets of medicine, he meets your eyes with a fond gaze.

"I'm alright," He assures you, his voice soft and earnest. He touches you more than necessary, taking your loose fist in his hand and uncurling your fingers for you so that the excedrin falls into his other palm bumped up against the heel of your hand.

You're surprised your hand doesn't start sweating at how flustered you've become, but you're glad for it. He secures the medicine in his fist, his hand still humming with the ghost of your touch.

"Sleep tonight," You warn him with a slightly weak voice, watching as he downs the pills with a gulp of water from a delicate paper cup stored by your sink, "Get off of any electronic devices for an hour before bed, read something boring, and keep the lights dim. And if none of that works, take sleeping pills, I can give you Tylenol PM if you don't have any at home."

"I'd love some," He smiles, lingering by the edge of your desk, "Thank you, Doctor."

"You can call me Y/N," You avert your eyes to your desk drawer, your voice feeble, "We see each other every day, you ought to be more familiar with me than that."

He chuckles, a soft exhale that sends butterflies with it into your stomach. You offer him the pills and again he takes your hand in his own, only making the fiery heat that burns at your cheeks more intense.

"Thank you. And you can call me Aaron," He takes the pulls from you, tucking them into the breast pocket of his button-up.

"Goodbye, Aaron," You grin, barely able to stop the expression from growing an embarrassing amount.

"Bye Y/N," He smiles back, eyes glimmering with fondness, "See you next time."

[muddy-water-1997]

𝖠𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖡𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗍𝗌

Immerse yourself in the electrifying aftermath of the concert of a lifetime, where fate unexpectedly intertwines your world with the dynamic lives of Stray Kids. As you journey through the highs and lows of fandom, fate throws you a curveball, thrusting you into their overseas PR agent role. Balancing the euphoria of being a fan with the challenges of behind-the-scenes drama, you must navigate a labyrinth of secrets to protect your idols and sanity. Can you keep the spotlight on their music while shielding the world from the shadows lurking behind the stage?

Last Updated: 09/06/2024 Current wordcount: 40k 𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖣𝗋𝗈𝗉 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝖣𝖬!

Chapter 1: The Concert

Chapter 2: The Incident

Chapter 3: The Car

Chapter 4: The Hilton

Chapter 5: The Fallout

Chapter 6: Getting Closer

Chapter 7: A Proposition

Chapter 8: Time Check

Chapter 9: Suspense

Chapter 10: Release

Chapter 11: The Aftermath

Chapter 12: How Can I help?

Chapter 13: A Dream or a Nightmare?

Chapter 14: Just A Moment of Weakness

Chapter 15: The Fate Of A Muse

Chapter 16: PR, Perfume, and a Private Jet

Chapter 17: Mile High Club

Chapter 18: Do You Want Some Ramen?

Chapter 19: Three's Company, Nine's a Crowd.

Chapter 20: Peace Tea

Chapter 21: It Takes Two To Tango

Chapter 22: A Rose Between Two Thorns

Chapter 23: An Arrangement

[orbitaldeathwoomy]

[Dion leads everyone to his fifth-floor apartment. When he opens the door it becomes abundantly clear that somehow it's hotter in there than it is in the hall, and maybe even outside...]

"You can just put that box on the couch..."

[Ruby's father nods and does just that, wiping the sweat off his forehead afterward.]

"You live in this heat?"

"Yeah, I guess. I’ve been hoarding ice packs and using those to keep cool, but…"

[Artemis tugs on Dion's sleeve to get his attention, then writes a message in her notebook.]

❛You don't have an air conditioner, or even just a fan?❜

"They all broke about a month ago. I just... Haven't gotten around to replacing them."

[Suddenly, Ruby hits the box on the couch, a wide grin on her face.]

"And that's exactly why we brought you this!"

"And 'this' is... what, exactly?"

[Ruby tears off the tape holding the box closed, revealing what appears to be a window air conditioner. It looks brand new...]

"Don't worry, we tested it before we came here, and it works really well!"

"Okaaaay... How much do I owe you for this? No one just gives away something like this for--"

[Ruby playfully punches Dion's shoulder.]

"Don't you worry your pretty little head! It's a gift! No debt required!"

[Artemis smiles a little as she writes down what she wants to say again.]

❛Thank you for looking after my cousin, Ruby.❜

"Don't mention it! He started complaining about the heat sometime last week, so we all chipped in and bought this for him!"

"To get me to stop complaining, right?"

[Insert a short silence here.]

"What? No! The four of us were worried about you... We figured if it's hot as hell in Inkopolis, it was probably even worse here..."

[Artemis' smile widens as she writes another message.]

❛Looks like your friends were more concerned about your health than you were, Dion.❜

"A-Art--! Did you really have to write that so everyone could see??"

❛Yes.❜

[orbitaldeathwoomy-a]

[It's the next day. Dion and Cerrin have been avoiding each other, and the tension at the base is palpable. Ruby and Koa are chatting...]

"So that's the situation, huh?"

"Yeah. I think he needs someone to talk to, but..."

"........."

[Koa stands up and walks away.]

"Captain...?"

•

•

•

[Dion is sitting on the edge of the Site 2 island, tossing the artifical snow near him into the water below. He doesn't even hear that someone's approaching...]

"Hey."

[Dion jumps a little, before he realizes who had addressed him.]

"Let me guess, Four sent you."

"Pretty much."

[Koa its down next to him.]

"How much did she tell you?"

"Enough."

[Insert an awkward pause here.]

"Y'know, I might not know what exactly Eight went through back then, but... I can at least tell you my side of she story."

"...Yeah."

[Koa proceeds to tell Dion most of what happened five years ago -- How she and Cerrin had fallen into the Deepsea Metro, the psycho A.I. that had used some kind of strange ink to mind-control her, the fight between her and Cerrin... And the scars it left behind on her.]

"Holy shit..."

"I might not know everything he's been through, or anything you've been through, but I do know that whatever he said to you was said in anger, not any sort of hatred. And, knowing him, he probably didn't mean to make light of your experiences."

"Sure sounded like he meant it..."

"Anger can do that. What's important now is how you move forward with this little issue."

"Right..."

[soelstress]

A Shot Of You

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x female!reader

Summary: Your new work uniform attracts unwanted attention from a stranger...

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI , nsfw , explicit sex/smut, p in v sex , unprotected sex , sex in an alley , some language , a little violence (not towards the reader)

A/N 1 - This is one of two submissions for @mercurial-chuckles Smutty September Fest. Thank you for doing this challenge, it's been fun playing around with the prompts.

A/N 2 - Prompts - Asked a friend to pick up to five prompts for me... of course I was given five so two stories it is 🙈 11) quickie where you don’t take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials 15) jealous sex in the alleyway behind the bar 19) getting turned on by their partner’s new uniform for work and then roleplaying a bit

A/N 3 - the “Angel Shot” is a reference to a scheme in the UK known as Ask For Angela. Please check it out and remember to be safe out there lovelies!

A/N 4 - This is my first post on Tumblr. Please let me know if I've missed a warning, knowing me it's more than likely. Hope you all enjoy ☺️

“Hey, what’s taking so long?”

You smothered a laugh at your boyfriend’s petulant whine. “Be patient, Lloyd!” When he grumbled you couldn’t help giggling. Patience was not a word to describe Lloyd Hansen… except when it came to you. Hired by the CIA as an independent agent, Lloyd was previously a loose cannon with physical tendencies and a short temper. His former handler had once said they preferred him effective instead of stable… which spoke volumes considering they knew how effective he could be. Since becoming involved with you, he had become less impulsive and aggressive. But something that never changed was the fact that Lloyd was fiercely protective… and very egotistical.

Shaking your head, you checked your appearance one last time before leaving the bathroom leaning on the doorframe of your adjoining bedroom to see Lloyd flopped on the bed. He was wearing a black shirt with white pants. His boots rested on the bedsheets, a habit of his that annoyed you. Clearing your throat, you stepped further into the room.

Lloyd heaved a great sigh before starting to sit up. “Seriously, I don’t get what’s so special about - “ his jaw dropped, blue eyes raking hungrily over the new work uniform you were required to wear. The black bodice pushed your breasts a little bit higher than normal, and the short skirt rode half way up your thighs so Lloyd knew you’d be flashing more than a smile if you bent too far forward. He wasn’t thrilled about the modifications to your uniform knowing others would be able to look at you. But the bar you worked at had regular patrons who knew to behave under promise of being barred. Plus the men on security were effective at stopping any unwanted advances. Not as effective as he was though…

Lloyd was so deep in his musings that he didn’t see you tilt your head, puzzled at the lack of reaction. “Lloyd?” When he focused on you again, you smiled shyly. “What do you think?”

Lazily, Lloyd slowly sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. He carelessly twirled his finger and you span carefully in an effort not to trip. “Well barkeep, what do you got for a man to quench his thirst around here?”

“What are you in the mood for?” You batted back coyly. 

A smirk graced his lips, eyes twinkling in mischief. You moved forward between his legs and he caught you by the hips. “Hmm… You look fucking delicious… maybe a shot of you?” 

You watched wide eyed as his hands ghosted under your skirt, one holding the material up and the other moving close to your clothed centre. “And how do you want that?” Gasping, you gripped his forearms for balance.

“Straight up”. Licking his lips, Lloyd slipped off the edge of the bed and onto his knees.

Groaning, your hands fisted in his dark hair and tugged gently. “Lloyd… you can’t… I gotta get to work”. Your own words sounded empty to you, you loved the feeling of his mouth on you. 

Wet heat suddenly washed over the thin lace of your underwear. Lloyd hummed in approval at your taste, the feeling causing you to grind against his mouth. His hands dragged the scrap of material down enough so he could easily access your core. Teasing, he blew gently and licked through your wet folds. A loud moan escaped your mouth at the feel of his moustache brushing over your clit. “Just a little taste, my sweet Moonshine”. Hearing your nickname you melted in his touch and surrendered yourself to the pleasure.

A few hours later and you were almost done with your shift. Though part of your brain was focused on making drinks, the majority was focused on what awaited you at home. Lloyd tried to convince you with two orgasms using his mouth and tongue to stay home with him so he could enjoy your new uniform in private. Honestly you’d had to bite your lip when he pouted. Lloyd could be stubborn and childish, and very used to getting his way. Instead, you’d offered to change into your ‘fuck-me’ heels once home and let them work their magic. Though he still grumped, he surrendered on the condition he’d drive you to work and pick you up. 

You noticed a few regulars remained, nursing their drinks and talking quietly. They were on their best behaviour with you after having been taught a lesson by Lloyd. Most of your regulars had either seen his possessiveness firsthand while an unfortunate few experienced it firsthand. When an unfamiliar customer sat in front of you at the bar, you smiled in greeting and placed a napkin on the counter. “Evening, what’ll it be?”

“A Bud, a shot of you and your phone number”. The man grinned smugly, obviously pleased with himself and his delivery. It took all of your restraint to not roll your eyes, you just grabbed a bottle and placed it on the bar before requesting payment. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Lloyd enter the bar. He winked at you and a big smile lit up your face, dimming slightly at a scoff from the new customer. He preened when your gaze returned to him. “Think you dropped something there gorgeous”. Glancing around in confusion, you cocked an eyebrow at him. “Your standards. Why don’t cha bend over and show me how low they go?”

God, did these lines actually work? Shaking your head, you signalled to another bartender that you were stepping away. You slipped out from behind the bar, only to find your personal space incredibly crowded by an entirely unwelcome presence. 

“If you want the best fuck of your life, come with me…” His dark gaze raked over your body, leaving your skin crawling.

“I already have plans for that”. Darting around him, you moved towards the staff room next to the rear exit and took a few moments to gather your thoughts. You didn’t have long left to work, but you’d definitely mention the pesky patron to security before leaving. As you inhaled to calm your racing heart, you failed to notice a set of footsteps that seemed to linger outside, followed by another set. Exhaling sharply, you stepped outside the staff room. Over the soft chatter of the patrons and the music from the overhead system, you could hear something else. You moved closer to the rear exit, ears straining. Cries of pain? Maybe another animal got caught in the vermin traps dotted around the property. 

You opened the door to the alley behind the bar and froze at the sight before you. Lloyd was standing with his back to you, the creepy customer pinned to the wall of the next building with one hand. Lloyd’s free hand held something silver. “Boring” Lloyd sighed, sounding almost disappointed. He slowly pressed the silver object into the man’s shoulder who cried out in pain. “One last time, Pumpkin. What were you doing near the staff room?” You gulped softly. Lloyd only use ‘cutesy’ nicknames on those that annoyed him. 

“Argh… looking f-for the…. Bathroom!” The last word was nearly squeaked in pain.

“Tsk. Even a blind man could see the neon sign for the can… which is near the entrance. That shit ain’t gonna fly”. Lloyd shook his head. “You were trying to score with the bartender”.

“That little slut inside? She was begging for it!” His words were cut off by his shout of pain. Silently, Lloyd pocketed his knife and now held the man’s family jewels in a vice grip. The menace made a noise that almost sounded like a high pitched squeak. Lloyd cocked his head before twisting his wrist. Cries of pain echoed in the night air, making your heart clench. Carefully you moved so you’d approach Lloyds side rather than his back. You were within an arms length and started to reach for his shoulder when a punishing grip caught your wrist. 

You looked up and Lloyds furious gaze captivated you, his blue eyes dark and burning with anger. A touch of apprehension sparked within you. The man before you with this look was not your crass and childish lover, this was the psychopathic weapon of destruction. You thought of Lloyds temper, having seen a few instances where he had lashed out at men who thought it ok to be bolder in their flirting or try to grab you as you served them. Lloyds self control then evaporated before an angry haze would envelope him, but he had never hurt you. 

“Lloyd? It’s me. Please look at me Lloyd”. There was no spark of recognition in his eyes, so deep in the depths of his haze he didn’t know who you were. Your mind raced, thinking of Lloyd’s reactions after dealing with other unwanted advances. “Hey… Hot Lips”. His brow furrowed slightly, just enough to indicate he heard you. “Come back to me. I need your kisses Hot Lips”. Any embarrassment you may have felt over your words vanished when his blue eyes began to soften, glacier becoming ocean. Whining, the goon slumped to the floor when released but you and Lloyd never stopped watching each other and still he held your wrist.

“What’s goin’ on out here?” Behind you came the voice of Tommy, head of security for the bar. There was a pause before footsteps slowly walked forward. “You ok sweet cheeks? Hansen oughta give the rest of us a chance to be the knights for a change, maybe get a kiss from a pretty gal”. Tommy was a shameless flirt with good intentions, only ever using his lines to make women laugh or feel good about themselves. He was also aware of the unwanted advances you’d received and Lloyd’s subsequent antics.

Swallowing, you stood still and kept your eyes on Lloyd. “Lloyd was just giving a lesson about understanding what the word ‘no’ means”.

“Seems the lesson sunk in. I’m sure I can give him a recap”. You felt Tommy stop a few feet away. “Maybe I can get you an Angel shot when you’re finished with your shift, sweet cheeks? I know I missed the chance before”. 

You knew Tommy was really asking if everything was under control with Lloyd by asking about the Angel shot while apologising that he had not been around the last time something had happened with another patron. Though you were more than grateful for Tommys offered assistance, Lloyd was no threat to you and him being arrested certainly wasn’t in your plans. “Not this time Tommy, I’m not in the mood tonight”.

“I appreciate your offer to help, Tommy”. Lloyds drawl had you sighing in relief. “But I’d never hurt my Moonshine. So why don’t you give Sunshine here the short version of what I said while we have a talk?” Lloyd’s grip never wavered as Tommy pulled the guy off the ground and led him away. 

“Why’d you stop me? He had it coming” Lloyd pouted.

“He wasn’t worth it - you getting in trouble or beating him to a pulp”.

“He was hassling you, Moonshine. And you’re worth any trouble”. Lloyd tugged on your wrist to bring you against him, the hand holding your wrist moving to your back while the other moved to brush your cheek. “I heard him say that shit about bending you over… and about giving you the best fuck of your life”. Lloyds drawl had changed to a quiet rasp… the same rasp he used when he wanted to fuck you senseless, show his possessive side. You knew that the violence displayed tonight was nothing compared to Lloyd’s prior tactics used during his CIA days but the severity had caught you off guard. But what surprised you more was the fact you were turned on. A part of you loved him coming to your defence, something chivalrous yet primal about it made you melt. Seeing his eyes burn with jealousy, hearing his commanding rasp… you were caught up in his haze.

 His hand slid down your back over the curve of your butt and squeezed. You gasped in surprise. “When he first said it, I wasn’t gonna let him see. I could’ve shot his dick off for saying that to you. But when I had him by the balls…” Lloyd chuckled darkly. “I wanted to show him who the best fuck of your life is. That nobody can do what I do”. Suddenly you found yourself pinned to the wall of the bar by six feet of pure male. “Lemme hear you say it”.

“You’re the best fuck of my life, Lloyd. Nobody can do what you can”. The brick was rough against your back but you ignored the feeling when consumed by Lloyd’s lips. You could taste the sweet candies he loved. It contrasted to the violence fuelling him. As he nipped at your neck, your hands reached into his hair and steered him back to your lips. He groaned and you sucked his tongue fiercely before biting his lip. 

Cursing, Lloyd pulled away and spun you to face the wall. “Put your hands on the wall and push away”. As you moved, you could hear the sound of his zipper opening and a sound of material moving before his body caged yours. One hand moved the soaked crotch of your underwear aside as the other guided his leaking tip to your entrance. With one swift thrust he filled you. His hand covered your mouth before you could cry out. “Much as I’d love to prove a point to that asshole, I don’t wanna have to teach a lesson to Tommy or any others tonight. Keep quiet for me now and you’ll be screaming later on”. He began to move at a rapid pace. From the feel of his pants against your ass, he’d only pushed them down far enough to free his cock. His impatience thrilled you, spurred you to meet his thrusts. He shifted his position slightly, his thick hard cock rubbing at that sweet spot deep inside you. “So hot and wet… nobody can fuck you like I can. Nobody knows you like me… and nobody ever will”. The snarl became a whimper as you clenched hard around him. 

“Fuck! Not gonna last much longer if you squeeze me like that, you’re gonna make me cum”. 

“Please Lloyd. Fuck me. Cum for me” you begged, voice muffled by his hand.

Lloyds thrusts quickened as he brought you back against him, your head against his shoulder. The band in your belly tightened, tingles beginning to race through your body. You whimpered as you felt his cock jerk, filling you with his hot seed. Lloyd bit your neck to quiet his own release. The last bite of pain triggered your orgasm. Your legs wobbled as the pleasure crashed over you but Lloyd held you tight, groaning as your core trembled around him. He moved his hand from your mouth to your chin and turned your face before kissing you and carefully pulling out.

Panting, you watched as he tucked himself back into his pants looking far too pleased with himself. Cocky little shit. You shook your head in bemusement. “Guess I didn’t need my fuck-me heels after all” you teased.

“You never need those fuck-me heels” he smirked. “But I’d like you to wear them as I give you the fuck of your life. All night. Every night”. He steps close to you, eyes soft with love. “For the rest of your life”.