#the bass goes so fucking hard throughout this

[wh0relibrarian]

pretty thing

full fic based on this

just a few headcanons while I start working on a longer piece (I’m back home for the holidays and the idea of Sukuna being from the deep south has me frothing at the mouth)

content ahead: southern sukuna au, black coded!reader, just slight innuendos, reader is in her early 20s and sukuna is in his 30s, not reallyyy canon at all!! so don’t expect accurate information on his past, also, not his true form. don’t hate me!

word count: 913

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Southern!Sukuna who was born and raised in the deep south by a loving, yet distant mother. His father was never in the picture, but it’s okay, because Sukuna quickly learned that it would be his job to take care of his mother and little brother. This was no problem for him.

Southern!Sukuna who has always been a hard worker. Eventually, he’d come to run his own construction company. He’d been working his way up the ladder since he was eighteen. Now in his thirties he believes he should start doing something other than work. Maybe linger around a bar or two, see what “Tinder” is all about.

Southern!Sukuna who goes away on a business trip, never being the one to fly, but it was necessary for an upcoming project he had up north. One thing about Sukuna, he’ll always rep his home state. He’ll always have a shirt with the (insert a southern state) flag on it, if not a matching hat, it’ll be one from Bass Pro Shops. His entire body is tattooed from neck to ankle. He’s been getting them for years and they make his complexion look like silk. He takes incredibly good care of his skin, he has to in his line of work.

Southern!Sukuna who sees you eyeing him from his peripheral vision. You tried to be subtle, looking away as soon as his eyes would meet yours, but he caught you each time. You just couldn’t help yourself, the man was beautiful. You couldn’t help think what on earth a fucking cowboy was doing on this side of the country. Sure, you were going back to your hometown for the winter but there’s no way his reasoning was the same. He was visibly older, and no man with family up north looks that redneck. You had to know more about him, but oh god, you’d never actually approach him. 

Southern!Sukuna who walks up behind you while you wait for your bag to drop from baggage claim, as was he. It startled you, mainly because you swore he was just waving at someone waiting for him outside, you thought he was gone already; so when you feel a light tap on your shoulder, you expect it to be your mother who was supposed to be waiting for you in the parking lot. When you turn around and see a 5 '8 man (short king, but taller than me) looking down at you with wide eyes you can’t help but jump back. He didn’t mean to startle you, he just wanted to know what a pretty thing like you was doing in his neck of the woods. 

“I ain’t mean to scare you, sweetheart,” he reaches out his right hand from his pocket to give you a handshake, you reciprocate of course, still in awe that he’s speaking to you. “Was just wonderin’ what a pretty thing like you was doin’ in my neck of the woods.” His southern drawl was thick, and smooth. The way his words reverberated off his tongue sent heat waves straight to your cunt. 

Southern!Sukuna asks for your number, just so he can check on his favorite city girl throughout the holiday. After a short conversation, he learned that you were really only here for family. No relationship, no notable friendships, simply spending the next four weeks in what seemed like an all expense paid nature getaway. He didn’t want you to be lonely, claiming that he’d check on you every now and then to see how you were doing, maybe take you out at some point if you were up to it. You still couldn’t believe the exchange, he invaded your personal space with the most intoxicating scent— some type of deep musk he clearly used to cover the underlying smell of cigarettes. 

Southern!Sukuna who thought about you for days. You were unlike anything he’d laid eyes on. The first thing that stuck out was your hair. Thick and curly, not falling below your ears, but in the most gorgeous afro he’d ever seen. The ends were pink and he couldn’t help but think you both were meant to be, since his entire head was a light pink shade. Your skin looked so smooth, you smelled like clean laundry and strawberries. Maybe some type of sugary substance too. He pondered on all of these things for days, just aching for you to text him how bored you were, how you wanted to spend some time with him.

Southern!Sukuna who damn near fell out when he got a notification on his phone.

(111) 222-3333

Hey :) it’s the girl you met at the airport. I just realized I never got your name? I never told you mine either, lol, I’m ____.

You anticipated his response, thinking for a second that maybe you said too much. Surely an older guy like him doesn’t want to text like this. But then—

(444) 555-6666

Hey, sweetheart. Such a pretty name. Sorry for not properly introducing myself before, I’m Sukuna.

[geee-three]

imagine. the tenmas go to the uk on holiday. of course toya is counted as a tenma in this do you think tenparents could fathom to leave him behind. and they each get to pick a friend a buddy a pal to bring with them. so tsukasa does of course have a crisis over who to invite and makes a whole spreadsheet about whos going to hate him if he doesnt pick them and whos going to be useful on the trip and then accidentally sends this spreadsheet to the wxs groupchat and it turns out rui cannot make it and nene downright refuses to be on a plane with him so emu it is. and emu is thrilled and noone has any hard feelings and he had a mental breakdown for nothing. and saki just asks whos free like a regular person and honami isnt but both ichika and shiho are and at first shes like oh duel to the death to get the pleasure of travelling with me but then they actually duel not to the death but to the snapping of the plastic sword and shiho wins because ichika has no arm strength whatsoever. whereas toya just goes straight for "akito :D" and noone is surprised

all this to say; tsukasa emu saki shiho toya and akito on a plane. shiho and akito now have a warforged bond in pretending they dont know these people. whole group wonderhoy in the airport. akito sets off the metal detectors so many times because he forgot how many piercings he has. shiho casually mentions she also has a shit ton but took them out bc shes not an idiot and also some of them are in awkward places. saki claims she can vouch for this. everyone assumes this means theyve had gay sex but no theyre talking about a conch (they spent ten minutes trying to get it out). tenparents ban swearing in any language. saki starts it but pretty soon they have a horde of teenages saying what the shrimp. they end up in heathrow terminal five and get lost. they spend ages at the baggage reclaim because shihos second bag just isnt coming through and it turns out she brought her bass with her and it went to the oddly shaped baggage section. tendad is convinced he can drive out of here in the hire car. he cannot. they get lost. again. they finally get to the hotel and it turns out one of the kids rooms is a double not two singles! shiho looks at akito with panic and akito looks at shiho with a weird "listen. im not gay BUT" kinda look but all is saved when emu starts talking about the benifits of platonic cuddle piles. tendad is convinced he can navigate the london underground. he cannot. they get lost. again. akito, the fucking workaholic, decides to look into british indie rock and discovers los campesinos. on the other hand saki hears hot to go and suddenly shiho we need to do a cover of the lesbian song. throughout this whole thing emu is emuing and the tenmas are being the sweetest fucking family they just have two emo guys along with them

[duchess-music]

||IXxuSmw2HFNWXLUyJFO7xKIT3E7diFUSa86wgFiMI413xtfZga5hClZ/AgdzP33dhpj+0qc1d5sK2jyH5EqK6g== - ✿ 111loggedin // Xxenaa ♡||

Genres: Hardcore [EDM], Techno, Drum & Bass

REVIEW

Lets get this right out of the gate: This is not the kind of music I listen to. That being said, this is supremely enjoyable.

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to go about reviewing this honestly, as it's definitely going to prove difficult and I don't have the patience to go through all 28 minutes of this song and dissect it like I could with individual tracks. In fact, I'm still not quite sure what I just listened to.

This piece of music, which I'm not going to put the title of in my review, is incredibly fun to listen to. A brilliant DJ Mix which keeps you on your toes at each and every turn throughout its massive runtime. I'm finding it hard to remember exactly how this entire this went, because it goes so fast and so loud. It gets louder as it goes on? It's fucking fun, that's for sure.

If you want to do a gay little dance all around your room, this is brilliant for that. If you're stressed out, this will probably kill you.

FINAL SCORE: 81/100

[demonmoonsupreme]

I know absolutely nothing about music composition, but I would just like to gush about how “The Kraken” by Hans Zimmer is fucking phenomenal.

It IS a battle song, this is a marching (er, swimming) to war song. Everything from the tempo, choir chants, heavy bass line, percussion, AND horns. It has snippets where you you could picture militia marching in; voicing their battle cries, beating their drums, and blowing their horns. (I’m not 100% sure, but I think there are basses being played with a bow as well. Sounds too low to be a cello, but I could be wrong). But using those deeper strings make it sound ominous as hell, and, well, a wee bit like Jaws.

There’s silence in this song (might make it easier for editing into a film, idk); there are beats where no sound is heard, which makes you anticipate the next motif or theme even more!! It has just great builds and lulls that change throughout or aren’t repeated the exact same to keep it interesting. And the fucking PIPE ORGAN ARE YOU KIDDING ME. Goes so hard. The undercurrent of an electric guitar?? Holy Shit. You know? Sometimes I’m on the fence about modern, particularly electric, instruments in period pieces; but they’re justified here. (“Parlay” from At World’s End? Iconic.) It makes the piece an extremely BADASS battle march.

Hans Zimmer please compose a rock-opera.

Those last 50 seconds…the quieting down but still maintaining power — but it doesn’t let you relax, no you mustn’t let your guard down—! The most Top Dawg, Badass Motherfucker entrance music you. Have. Ever. Heard. Heavy base, an undercurrent of electric guitar, a strong march tempo, an absolutely dominating organ, and the final culmination of the beat that you’ve been hearing throughout the whole song — but now you hear it in its true form, it’s own natural tempo. Another organ; a heartbeat.

Biggest pair of balls in the human population belong to one Hans Zimmer. How do I know? He composed “The Kraken”; I need no other evidence.

[gerogerigaogaigar]

OutKast - Stankonia

This is OutKast at their most stylistically varied. At times they hit the G-funk so hard that they sound almost exactly like P-funk, and at others they are experimenting with drum and bass instrumentals, and yet other tracks see them integrating guitar riffs. OutKast, and Andre 3000 in particular, are always balancing creativity with corniness and Stankonia has the best balance. Plus the hooks are unbelievably catchy. You will have Gasoline Dreams, Ms. Jackson, So Fresh So Clean, I'll Call Before I Come, B.O.B., or maybe We Luv Deez Hoez stuck in your head after listening to this album.

Steely Dan - Aja

This is one of the most meticulously produced albums of all time. You don't even need $1k headphones to hear it. The balance is perfect, every instrument in its right place, crisp and clear. The vocals rise to the top but never overtake the piano or horns, the drums are crisp and punchy yet never overtake the mix. Even if the music sucked ass I would still praise the production. Thankfully the music is also teally good. Steely Dan have perfected their crisp and sleazy brand of lightly funky jazz rock. In typical Steely Dan fashion the songs can mostly be described as 'about some guy or girl'. There's one weird caveat that has nothing to do with Steely Dan but the song Peg is ruined for me because, as big of a Steely Dan fan as I am, I'm an even bigger De La Soul fan so Peg is forever the sample from Eye Know for me. If you don't have the same brain worms as me this shouldn't be a problem.

Guns N' Roses - Appetite For Destruction

I don't hate this album, I actually like it, but I do hate Rolling Stones' attitude towards metal. I can think of like five better metal albums from 1987 that they could shove in here, but no it is only the shit that's most palatable to dadrock audiences. Napalm Death - Scum, Laibach - Opus Dei, Mayhem - Deathcrush, Anthrax - Among The Living, Death - Scream Bloody Gore, King Diamond - Abigail. There that's six, none of them sound at all similar and they are all better than Appetite For Destruction. Sure I could do a real review for this album, but why? What could I say that hasn't been said? That Slash only jas one guitar solo in him that he reuses every song? Old news. That their whole aesthetic is corny as fuck(derogatory)? That their whole aesthetic is corny as fuck(affectionate)? Nothing I say here matters. I do like Nightrain tho. That song kinda goes.

Eric B. & Rakim - Paid In Full

The dynamic duo of 80s hip hop. Rakim was one of the best rappers of the 80s and Eric B. serves as a reminder that hip hop is more than just rapping. In fact Eric B.'s turntablism skills are more often the centerpiece than the rapping such as in Eric B. Is President or the instrumental tracks Eric B. Is On The Cut, Chinese Arithmetic, and Extended Beat. Although Rakim is no slouch and his dedication to internal rhyme schemes influenced a generation of lyrical miracles who would crash and burn trying to live up to Rakim's skill level.

Van Morrison - Astral Weeks

Astral Weeks is jazz pop with folk rock sensibilities. It features lengthy songs with a jazz band backing, but a lot of the instrumentals are also very folk influenced and the production feels more pastoral than jazzy. It's a hazy dreamlike mix of sounds that is fun and delightful to listen to, although I'm a little surprised at how high on the list it is. I'm confused and concerned that we have gotten two Van Morrison albums and zero Tim Buckley's.

Stevie Wonder - Talking Book

Throughout the 60s Stevie Wonder went from child prodigy to teen hit machine and when the 70s began is when he finally entered his 'classic era'. Talking Book was his 15th record but it spawned the biggest hit of his career, Superstition. Talking Book also sees Stevie Wonder evolving as a lyricist. You Are The Sunshine Of My Life expresses a very pure, innocent love that sits a bit outside of how Motown love songs were usually written and Big Brother is the start of Wonder's blunt, serious political songs with upbeat melodies. A landmark album in the funk and soul scene and the start of an era where no one else was allowed to win Grammys

Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin IV

Oh here come the very cool tough hard rock boys singing about Tolkein again. Fucking nerds. What is that a mandolin? Lol. This album is so fucking good.

The Band - s/t

Oof, I'm conflicted. On one hand this is an amazing album, on the other it isn't better than Music From The Big Pink. The Band nail a sense of Americana here, especially on The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down and Up On Cripple Creek, but where Big Pink is a fantastic whole album this one is just a very good collection of songs. Swap their places and I have no complaints.

Liz Phair - Exile In Guyville

You have no idea how happy I am to see this album here, let alone at such a high place on the list. Exile In Guyville is one of the most perfect pieces of lo fi indie rock ever made. Liz Phair hits a unique place between the grunge and indie scenes without ever feeling like she's trying for anything other than sincerity. The sparse instrumentation makes it so every note is important and every emotion is laid bare. The rawness of emotion is essential when she's navigating the nuance of different kinds of disappointed and dispassionate. Liz Phair comes off as deeply cynical about men, but also very horny. I respect that. She roasts handsome confident men and then sings longingly about pathetic weirdos. I really couldn't relate more. This album above all others really makes me feel like I could, should make an album myself. The raw production, the simple short songs, the simple but honest lyrics. Exile In Guyville is one of the greatest indie albums of all time.

[songsforthepierce]

Odd Tracks: They’re Coming to Take Me Away Ha! Haa!... - Napoleon XIV

So this is a song I haven’t thought about in YEARS. when I was looking through what music I had I saw this and went “...oh yeah, this song.”

I debated about doing this but content warning for light discussions on ableism and institutionalization. I didn’t really expect doing that on this fucking song but here we are.

So I found this song in a video that was similar to AMV Hell back in...maaaybe 2007 or 2008? Hard to remember. But anyway, I remember buying the song, listening to it from time to time and then just moved on. Now that I came back to this song I realized this only could have been used during the big AMV Hell era of the time. I cannot imagine this being used today. Well I say that when as I am typing this maybe someone will use it in a TikTok or something.

I looked into this song and learned some things. First off is that the artist goes under Napoleon XIV which I know isn’t interesting but to me the only reason that stands out is because when I got it on itunes at the time they label him under “Napoleon’s Ghost”. Why? I don’t know. Moving on from that the artist’s real name is Jerry Samuels and he is from America. Secondly the song was released in 1966 and was a chart hit reaching number 1 on U.S. Cash Box Top 100, number 3 on US Billboard Top 100, number 4 in UK Singles Chart, number 2 on Canada RPM Top Singles, and number 40 on Australia’s Kent Music Report. I am actually surprised it topped that high in the US, Canada, and UK during the time period (find it funny it was lower in Australia though). You know, I can 100% believe this being a one hit wonder. Novelty songs getting that status isn’t new (i.e. Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer). However, this being high within most of the charts is what baffles me. It being number 40? more believable. But it being within the top 4? That is just confusing for me. Was there nothing else going on in 1966 for this to happen? I guess so. Hell, the guy was awarded a gold disc. Well with all of that said what is this song about? What made this such a hit?

The song is about a man, or in this case Napoleon XIV (this was Jerry’s character or something), being taken away to a mental institution. Why? Because his girlfriend broke up with him which is what is causing his insanity. Actually wait, no, it was because he lost his dog. Haha...funny...okay look, I get it is one of those “Oh tee hee look how CRAZY this character is. Oh isn’t it funny they went insane and are being institutionalized! Oh how quirky!” songs which are not uncommon. I am not gonna say it is the worse song or even the worse song about this type of thing. But I will say it did not really age well and it is very much partially a product of the culture. Well I say partially because Samuels did point out he felt like this song would come off like it was making fun of the mentally ill but that him throwing in the line at the end about the dog would somehow make this okay. You know, how wikipedia worded what he said is weirdly better than what he actually said at the time. The whole “Sickies” line is not great. I know I could talk about how a song like this technically makes light about mental illness and institutionalization especially since the abuse that goes on in places as such has gotten more attention over the years. However, I think we all know this and I already stated my general feelings on the song. Plus the guy was 28 at the time which does explain his attitude at the time. Nowadays I actually don’t know what he does and frankly I really don’t care.Though, I would I have ended this all here but I found more info on the song.

The song you may noticed uses snare drum, bass drum, tambourine, and hand clap rhythm throughout. Samuels’ vocals are not sung melodically but instead spoken rhythmically while the pitch of his vocals rises and falls at key points which creates an odd glissando effect. This is increased by the wailing sirens that were added in the song as well. Now this made me look up what a glissando is which is described as “a glide to one pitch to another”. Though what was interesting to me was the fact that Samuels was able to do the vocal pitch shifts by basically doing a variation on what the creator of Alvin and the Chipmunks did. Samuels at the time was working as a record engineer at the time which does explain all the sound stuff he was able to do on the track. A lot of it is talked about in Who Wrote a Book About Love? which I actually recommend reading the parts where he talks about all the technical stuff he did for the song. To be honest how he made the more technical aspects of the song is way more interesting than the song itself. I would have also ended all this here but then I found out this song as sequels.

Okay yeah, this song has sequels which I do not understand. Yes, this was a popular song which got banned by some stations because of the subject matter but were there people who REALLY wanted a sequel to this? Though I guess before I talk about that I should start will saying this song has a B-side. So the B-side is the same song but it is played in reverse. This fucking sounds like a song people would try to make theories about subliminal messages being inserted in. That or something out of a bad creepypasta. The most notable thing about this song is that rock critic, Dave Marsh, in his book Book of Rock Lists said the B-side is the “most obnoxious song ever to appear in a jukebox” which he claims this song cleared out a diner of forty people two minutes flat. I don’t know why but that made me remember that whole What’s New Pussy Cat meme from years back. Anyway, the fact this B-side was on a jukebox in a diner is just baffling to me. Why would someone put that on there unless they really wanted to annoy everyone in the restaurant? I would leave too if that came on. Now that I got the B-side out of the way now I can talk about the multiple sequels. The first one is I'm Happy They Took You Away, Ha-Haaa! and it’s just the same fucking song. The instrumentals sound like a bootleg of the original. The only difference is that this is about the woman happy she sent the guy away. The only notable things about this song was this was recorded Bryna Raeburn of CBS Radio Mystery Theater under Josephine XV. The second sequel is They Took You Away, I'm Glad, I'm Glad  which is I guess recorded by Josephine which appeared on These Are the Hits, You Silly Savages by Teddy & Darrel. The video of someone playing it on a promotional CD is all I could really find. I think there was one other video with the song but I guess this wasn’t popular. I am not shocked though because it is just the same song, again. I am not going to count the variation of the original song where Samuels says, “THEY'RE TRYING TO DRIVE ME SANE!!! HA HA“ different at the end as a sequel but I guess I should mention it for completion sake. “Emperor Bob” Hudson made a song called I’m Normal which is about the brother of the main character with the claims that no one will get him because he is so normal. The concept on paper sounded more funny to interesting for me because it just makes me think of all of those “I’m so normal memes”. Sadly when I listened to the song it sucked. How many times are they going to make the same song but slightly alter the tune of the song? Well, I guess they only did this four times because the forth and final sequel was made by Sameuls himself in 1988. All the other sequels were made in 1966, the same year as the original, which kind of makes sense with the fact that would be at the height of the popularity of the original. But 1988 feels like it is late to the party. Anyway, the last sequel is called They're Coming To Get Me Again, Ha Haaa! where Napoleon XIV has been released from institutionalization but alas that doesn’t last long as his fear of going back leads him being taken in. My opinion on all of these songs is lower than the original mainly because they really don’t really do much from the original concept. All of them just sound like bootlegs of one another but not even an enjoyable bootleg.

I was originally going to look into the covers of this song (yes this song had covers) but I just don’t care anymore. I already spent more time on this song than I originally intended. So yeah, this song exists and I won’t be listening to it or any of it’s variants again.

[kill-the-rockstar]

It's Waterparks album release day baby! And you know what that means!

It's time for

Kill The Rockstar Reacts To Music: Intellectual Property by Waterparks

Starf*cker

- It makes me wonder about the album, is it the story if one relationship? Or a Midnights kinda thing where it's about different moments throughout his life?

- The chorus especially feels how it feels to work on a show - I don't know how else to describe it, and 'it just hurts cuz I want it'

Real Super Dark

- The link from the end of Starf*cker is cool

- Going from 'it's been a pleasure, its nice to meet you' to 'everyone's freaking me out' is a very cool contrast

Funeral Grey

- It's funky fun, it feels like Double Dare grown up, I love it

- The spelling makes me ask if the woman he's talking to is British, and I also think we need to focus more on the fact her FAVOURITE COLOUR is fucking GREY???

- Awsten's flirting techniques being 'what's your favourite colour' 'smoking is carcinogenic' 'fuck me' is hilarious to me

Brainwashed

- I was obsessed the minute this came out

- I love playing this on bass, the timing is really nice and I like playing with the dynamics between the verse and chorus

- Falling fast for someone like that sounds terrifying, can't relate but I love the concept

- Looking at your crush and going 'why??' is absolutely a mood

2 Best Friends

- The next time I go out with my two besties the guy I've had a crush on twice is also meant to be there and something about that feels perfect for this song even though we're friends now and I literally invited him

- The synth sounds liked Glitter Times!!!

- I like this because even if I don't get like this about romance, 'it didn't work and I feel like shit. Wake up tomorrow and try again' is very much applicable to me. Shit sucks, things don't magically get better overnight, but fuck it we keep going.

End of the water (feel)

- The chorus feels like having a crush. It's like my heart is reaching out.

- The verse sounds like what goes on in my brain a lot of the time - maybe I do have ADHD..

- It's such an emotional song and my jaw literally dropped

- and then at the ernd you have FUCKING KURTIS CONNOR I burst out laughing it's 1am fuck

Self Sabotage

- I don't know what to say, it's a good song

- I think we're all guilty of self sabotaging behaviour to some degree but it's very interesting to hear someone else describe their experiences with it

Ritual

- something about it is reminiscent of the music I loved as a child - I've been into alternative music since I was born, and I can't quite place what it is but there's a nostalgia to it for me

- it's the equivalent of Tantrum orr Turbulent I guess but it feels so different

- the reference to Lemonade >>>>

Fuck About It

- The contrast between Ritual talking about his trauma and how he feels he's being taken advantage of, then Fuck About It being about a relationship where its just about sex because the other party doesn't want to communicate with him (and then that in contrast to Self Sabotage where its him who keeps trying to push her away)

- It's a fun song but as usual, I am left wanting to give Awsten a hug and stroke his hair like he's a cat if I think about the lyrics too long

Closer

- This ripped my heart out

- 'I feel love a different way' as someone who's a-spec that hit me hard.

- I have been here I have felt this

- 2000's pop punk vibes, reminiscent of All Time Low (I do not support ATL🖕) - reminds me of listening to Last Young Renegade on my sunset walks during lockdown

- The quiet, almost whispered final chorus!!!

A Night Out On Earth

- religious trauma ❤️

- 'A night out on earth, last one for a while, it can't get worse' just makes me think of my last night out before lockdown which was the end of a three year friendship.

Anyway.

- ending the album with audio from one of their early radio interviews is not making me emotional at all /s

[declanlikesmusic]

Today's Listens: Episode 002

August 6th, 2023

Welcome back to the series! I hope that as I write more of these and document my growing thoughts on music & albums, we all come to acknowledge that while you may disagree with me on some takes more than others, we would all best come together to civilly discuss our collective love for the music that we're passionate for.

That said, this is a content warning for graphic imagery, specifically on the cover art for this first album. If you're not a fan of gross bodily organs and stuff, don't worry, neither am I.

Nirvana – In Utero (1993)

I'm kicking off today with me accepting the fact that I'm not a big In Utero guy. I know this album has often seen reappraisal as considered by a great deal of music peeps to be Nirvana's best album, but I'm personally firmly in the Nevermind camp, even though my last revisit of that album wasn't as infatuated. That said, while I wasn't keen on the raw recordings of this album at first, I grew to be more based and accustomed to it in the years since, leading to some damn good enjoyment nonetheless. It's a very good album all the same and I respect the status that it has, especially today.

6.9 / 10

Highlights: Heart-Shaped Box, Very Ape, Milk It, All Apologies

t e l e p a t h テレパシー能力者 – アンドロメダ (2014)

I'm taking my sweet ass time with Telepath's massive discography of legendary vaporwave & slushwave music, but coming back to this one in particular was a shockingly pleasant surprise. I've always seen this as one of his most meditative albums, but I didn't recall it having actual music much on my first listen. So coming back to this, I can't believe I walked away with so many highlights. This thing is gorgeous; it gives you a ton of memorable short-term melodies and some beautiful deep cuts that run much longer and justifiably so. This might go down as one of my favourite Telepath albums, to be honest, but I still just can't wait to get the rest of his big heavy-hitters out of the way like this one.

7.8 / 10

Highlights: 空に光、いつも、二、アトラクション、不思議、蒸気涙

Gupi – None (2020)

So after work was a non-starter due to the weather, I headed right back home after lunch and rolled upon this record that I had heard all the way back when it came out. Many were hooked onto this, not just because of what this producer was making, but also because of who he even was. Goes to show you the true, unbridled power of nepotism. Speaking of non-starters, the opening title track was a deeply unpleasant first impression to me, but I was pleasantly surprised (again) that the rest of the record picked right up from there and remained consistently decent throughout, even great in spots towards the end. Bubblegum bass (and subsequently hyperpop) were running completely wild during the days of 100 gecs, so it was only natural for this young talent to bust through with this debut and have me have a decent time with it as well. I just don't look forward to revisiting his duo project with Fraxiom, that one was rough when I heard it, even if his track here was good too. I also really liked the refrain on False Awakening as well.

6.5 / 10

Highlights: Driving Directly Into a Concrete Wall, Regression, Faking It, False Awakening

N.W.A – Straight Outta Compton (1988)

For my 1,312th rating on my second RateYourMusic account, I thought I'd finally tune into one of the most respected and critically acclaimed rap albums of all time, not to mention among the most controversial records of the 80s and good for it too. The first two cuts off this album are iconic, though I've always been more of a Fuck tha Police type of person myself, and after that, Parental Discretion iz Advised and Express Yourself are great listens too. God, this drops off hard though. The last four tracks of the main album were a slog, from their Compton's n the House remix to the closer Quiet on tha Set. Every beat was far too scant & repetitive for my liking, especially at the runtimes they were given and tracks like I Ain't tha 1 especially had some lyrical clunkers that read as childish. Still, this was a fine time with some prime cuts, but just way more underwhelming by the end of it.

6.4 / 10

Highlights: Straight Outta Compton, Fuck tha Police, If it Ain't Ruff, Parental Discretion iz Advised, Express Yourself

Arctic Monkeys – Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not (2006)

I remember some time last year when I was trying to pull myself out of the rut of music listening burnout, I tuned in to a pair of Arctic Monkeys records with a friend/carer of mine. This excessively long-titled album was one of the two, the other being the excessively short-titled AM. I ended up preferring and even loving AM by comparison, but that doesn't (nor should it) undermine this debut album's accomplishments, especially as it's still very good to this day and has some exceptional highlights coming out of it. I thought to return to it just to have a simple good fuck rock time and I got exactly that. God bless the Arctic Monkeys for giving me exactly what I expected.

7.1 / 10

Highlights: The View From the Afternoon, I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor, Fake Tales of San Francisco, Perhaps Vampires is a Bit Strong But…, A Certain Romance

Rollergirl! – I Love You, Rollergirl! (2014)

Keats Collective as a label was the birthplace of future funk as a genre, thanks to acts like Saint Pepsi, Macross 82-99, Flamingosis, Lancaster and yes, Rollergirl getting a spotlight all over their formative years. This is currently the last EP Rollergirl has put out after their popular Self-Titled got buzz in the scene, but I'm certainly not as thrilled about this one. Compared to that previous EP, this record lacks a lot of the energy and tempo that I would've hoped to carry over. It felt a lot more homogenised and sterile by comparison, but I still really appreciated bits and pieces, like the opener, the closer (especially) and the part in I Love You by the end where the sample was chopped to sing out the album title. It's good and if you're curious, I wouldn't stray away from it. Like with rollerskates.

7.0 / 10

Highlights: Boogie Down, I Love You, Last Night

Yes – Close to the Edge (1972)

I've been meaning to revisit this record for the longest time now and I finally put my foot down to retry it. I really loved this record when I first heard it, but I can't say that I adore it as much as I appreciate it now still. It remains a wonderfully crafted record, but I've never been able to fawn over the title track and its segments until the last one. It's the B-side of this record that almost completely sold me and while it didn't win me all the way over in the end, I was still very happy with what I heard. If you wanna get into progressive rock, this is still one of the greatest places to start.

7.4 / 10

Highlights: And You and I, Siberian Khatru

INTERNET CLUB – DELUXE (2011)

Finally, to conclude the night, I wanted to listen to something very obsure, almost dark while eerie, ominous and mysteriously short. Who better to turn to for that than the one who made ▣世界から解放���れ▣？This super short, almost 15-minute offering was the first of a strange trilogy of pioneering broken transmission mini-albums and while I strongly admired ▣世界から解放され▣ for what it contributed to the scene, I ended up falling out of that same appreciation for the finale NHK REMINDS YOU TO BOOST YOUR SIGNAL. Returning to this album though was a complete shock to me; despite the rough start, when it got to the title track, I was in complete love with the looping sample and as the rest of the record went on, Robin displays hit after hit with chopped up vaporwave tunes and mystifying glitches. It ended up being my favourite of the three by a very good margin! Obviously, I don't expect this one to click with everybody, but if this intrigues you and you've already dipped your toes into the broken transmission or signalwave subgenres, I don't see why you wouldn't enjoy this one! Except NO MORE MONO, that one was uncomfortable.

7.9 / 10

Highlights: NIGHT DRIVE, DELUXE, ONLY IN DREAMS, SHARPER DUB, HEARTS (NIGHT DRIVE, PART TWO)

So that was a lot that I listened to today, but I had a ton of fun with it! Let me know what you thought of any of these albums and what I should try in the near future! Thank you so much for reading and stay gay!

[angelkids]

ive been waiting for this one

- Status Symbol - KFC murder chicks

- Rage - KFC murder chicks

- Cicada - M1DY

- The Wheel (Is Turning Now) - Everything Everything

also unrelated but i've been listening to so much blksmiith it goes so hard thank you for recommending to mee

status symbol: im not entirely sure if this is the right song but it does feature the band so. i believe its the right one. i like the pumping crunchy bass in the first half. and woah this shift to the second half. really fun lol. i love the compression throughout the whole song. really ties the whole vibe together. great little beat with some funky loops. i enjoy. might definitely check out some more if i get hungry. very “ok i really like this one/downloading immediately”.

rage: haha now this is fucking hardcore techno. love it. its like the lisa soundtrack but pumped with steroids. freakin awesome. im not typically a hardcore person but i do listen to it as a treat every now and then. love the little breakdowns throughout the whole song. very fun. “kinda catchy”

cicada: ohohohoo. very upbeat jam. that fucking bass holy shit. this goes hard. the contrast between the silly, relatively calm piano loop segments to the massive drops with the bass. its so funny and i love it. this is the kind of music that makes me laugh out loud listening to it because its just so awesome. cant see myself listening to it all the time but i wont be mad to hear this. “kinda catchy”

the wheel: i really like the laidback sound here. great drums and some fun electronic flair. i dont have a whole lot to say other than i just enjoy the sound here. very pleasant. great vocals too. “ok i really like this”, says me

also yeah man blksmiith is great. im happy to share my favorite music genre with everyone.

[dirtysvthoughts]

𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓋𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓎

overview: working at a strip club has its perks, especially when your regulars are hella attractive.

pairing: female stripper reader! x chan

genre/tags/warnings: smut, stripper thingz (upper body nudity, then full body), protected sex (use a condom on your partner friends!), (sorta-kinda) lap dancing - but for sure grinding, fingering, mentions of twerking, mentions of chan’s teeth gems, very slight mentions of ass smacking and cum play

word count: 1.2k

a/n: hi friends! i hope you guys are ready for stripper reader! x chan!. i’ve been really down bad for this man ever since rwy era, so prepare to be in your horny feels as you read LOL! i sure was

this imagine was heavily inspired by p-valley (on starz), which is a show about a strip club in mississippi! it’s super good and the creator katori hall is a literal genius. if you have starz, please check it out!

partially edited/revamped on 02/22/23!

neon lights line the building. the bass throughout the club is thumping. all over the floor, bills are scattered, and girls are twerking their asses off to turn 50 cents into a dollar.

for you in this moment, the club’s air is heavy as fuck.

as you spin around on the chrome pole in one of the vip rooms, your legs gracefully divide as you do a split on the sturdy metal. as you transition and do a monkey drop, your regular for tonight doesn’t hesitate to spend his cash on you as he sits on a couch a few feet away from you. hundred dollar bill after hundred dollar bill covers the silver platform you stand on.

you transition into the floor and begin clapping your ass on tempo, making sure your at a perfect angle to where he can see your back and your face. “you like what you see, chan?” you ask as you turn around to play with the thin straps of your skimpy, sheer leotard. you keep your eyes on him as you slowly take off your straps, revealing your breasts to him.

chan has been one of your regulars for about six months now. in your history of strip club regulars, chan is probably the best one you’ve had ever. in a place where men could get extremely disrespectful in a split second, he wasn’t one of the many assholes you had to deal with sometimes. he was a refreshing change of pace, a man who could still throw money at you and wouldn’t get crazy if you said you no to something you didn’t want him to do.

chan bites his lip and runs his hands through his brown as he smirks at you, your hard nipples particularly his main focus. “you look so sexy, baby..” he muses.

you can feel your heat rising as he compliments you, getting so horny at how hot he looked in this moment. his white tee hugging his chest and arm muscles, the silver chain resting beautifully on his collarbone, and his black jeans imprinting how big he is. but the highlight of how he looks? the silver gems in his teeth. fuck, all you wanted him to do was leave a few hickeys on you.

you smile back at him as you get up from the floor, approaching him as you place your legs on opposite sides of his. your womanhood sits on his crotch and your arms latch around his neck as you slowly grind on him. he groans at the feeling as he kisses your neck, and begins to grab your ass.

“mmm chan, i can’t believe your so hard already,” you seductively whisper in his ear.“you feel so good too, i wanna feel you inside me..”

“oh do you now?” he chuckles as he tucks some of your hair behind your ear. “cause i wanna take you down right here on this couch, i doubt anyone would be able to hear us up here.”

his fingers begin to slowly trace the crotch of your one-piece and then he goes inside and starts to finger you. you gasp out at the feeling, you arms grabbing his shoulders to feel him up and hold on to him.

“c-chan, that feels so g-good.. give me more, please baby?”

“now you wanna feel me inside you?” he smirks at you. “let me give you what you want then.”

before you give into him, you get up and lock the door to the room to make sure your boss or anyone else for matter wouldn’t interrupt you. as you do your thing, chan grabs a condom from his pocket, tearing it open and preparing to put it on. but before he can unbutton his pants, you grab his wrist.

“let me, chan,” you smile as you get back on his lap, undoing his jean button and zipping him down, taking his leaking manhood out. you slowly rub him, his breathing becoming more ragged and shallow. as more of his precum beads up, you lick the substance from your fingers. “damn, you taste so good chan.. but it’s time to get what we both want is it not?”’

you take the condom and put it on him, his eyes watching your every move. once he’s fully situated, he mentally prepares himself to be inside of you.

“ready when you are, baby.”

as you sink on his dick, both of you moan out at the feeling of how great the other feels. “you feel so big chan,” you bury you head in his neck. “you fill me up and make me feel so full..”

chan mentally groans at your words as his hands grab your thighs. “you feel really great too baby, warm and dripping wet.. you’re so perfect.”

chan then takes a chance and begins to slowly thrust in and out of you. you loudly gasp at this newfound feeling, struggling to find words as chan admires how fine you still look.

“ch-chan, holy shit, chan! go harder please, baby - i swear i can take it!”

he doesn’t hesitate and immediately picks up his speed. as your tits begin to bounce, he plays with your breasts.

“yeah, gonna take it? take all of me baby. cum all over me, get this dick soaking wet like only you can.”

your moans get higher in pitch until you let out a silent scream and release your juices all over him. you collapse into him, trying to slow your breathing as you come down from a very ecstatic high.

“fuck chan,” you laugh into his chest. “you’re so fucking amazing..”

he caresses you hair, but before he can say anything back, there’s a loud pounding on the door that catches the two of you completely off guard.

“what?” you say loudly, turning your head to the door, annoyed at someone disrupting your time with chan.

“if you and your client are done fucking, you need to come downstairs! do i need to remind you that your headlining tonight? you’re on the main stage in 10 minutes!” your boss shouts back at you.

you roll your eyes and chan softly chuckles. “alright, i’ll be down there in a sec!” whatever your boss says next you can’t hear, but you know it’s something about how “these girls are always ungrateful.”

you sigh and get up off chan’s lap as you grab a plastic bag and start tossing your cash in it. once you’re done, chan gets up off the couch and faces you. he holds your waist and brings you in close, your lips inches away from his.

“think we can have another round after your stage?”

“oh, most definitely. you know i can never get enough of you,” you say as you caress his hair, and kiss behind his ear. he slowly closes any other gap in between you two and kisses you deeply.

as you regrettably pull away after a few seconds (knowing you had a job to do), you take his hand as you unlock the door, the two of you now back into the club’s wild atmosphere.

as you let go and walk away to the dressing room, chan gives you a light snack on your ass. “that’s for good luck, and to say that i want a lap dance when we get back to the room.” he winks at you as he leaves first to go back downstairs.

you bite your lip and smile to yourself as you head back downstairs, with now about seven minutes left until you hit the stage.

[sorikkung]

what goes on in neverland. ⇝ ch. 4: brooding, beefing, and a not-quite-bluff

word count: 7.6k

pairings: transmasc!reader x Everyone, everyone x everyone (its literally too convoluted for me to try type them out here anymore just see the masterlist for full pairings LOL)

genre: e2l, f2l, smut, fluff and lots of assorted shenanigans. hijinks, if you will

au: battle of the bands!au but make it gay and horny

warnings: instantly-regretted slut shaming (including sti shaming?), brief physical violence, public/risky sexual activity, lowkey under-negotiated kink but nothing extreme, power struggle between switches, brief spitplay

a/n: half a year to update then two within a month n then almost half a year again uh. sorry? HDFKS id probably write more often if i knew more people were reading like fellas if you're reading pls lmk!! what are you enjoying what are you not, are you siding with any characters in this conflict? are you curious about any characters or anything? what do you think about everything so far? a reblog goes a long way, even longer if these kinds of things or any sort of feedback are included in the tags/additions/comments like that's the shit that keeps me going 😩

tags: @honeybyunnies @syunderful @absentcaryatid @mingirn (lmk if you want to be added/removed!)

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You just know Stray Kids's new hit song is about you.

It’s not like you keep up with their music out of genuine interest, at least, that’s what you like to tell yourself, but merely to closely track the movements of your rival so you can strike accordingly. You can’t use that same excuse as to why you can’t stop fucking listening to it, but you’re not beyond separating the art from the artist, even if you just know the artist involved you in this directly.

The song is a fucking banger, unfortunately, and the lyrics tease and provoke nameless haters that jab at their skill and specifically their dancing, so the target is very obvious – but it’s a clapback more than it’s a provocation, so you can’t exactly have a go at them for it. Especially when their lyricism is too goddamn good.

Their lyrics gloat and brag in all the ways you highly doubt they would have the guts to say to your face, hiding behind their beats like cowards, all while rubbing salt in the wound.

They won.

The first round of the competition was exactly as you thought – none of the other bands came close to you nor them, but they managed to pull ahead over you and take first place for the introductory round by a shockingly large amount. People ate up the novelty of something new, wanting to root for the underdogs over the previous champions, and that sets a fire under your ass like no other. the renegades have to really show up in ways they haven’t before, and while you appreciate the challenge, you’ve already explored so many genres, styles and performances, switched up instruments and vocal techniques and Wooyoung brought dancing to the bands’ stages before Stray Kids did. You’re going to need to do something real controversial to take the spotlight back now.

Luckily, if there’s one thing the runaway renegades are damn good at, it’s controversy.

It gives you something to think about, and that much you’re grateful for. Lord knows your conversation with Sunwoo has been hawking over you for days, and every glance he gives you throughout the day seems noticeably more pointed, but he doesn’t address it. You don’t either at first, waiting for him to bring it up himself, but days pass and he doesn’t say a damn word.

The longer it lingers in the air, the more unbearable it gets, so when he’s staring at you particularly hard during a break in band practice, you almost throw your mic down to the ground.

“For the love of god, Sunwoo, if you need to discuss something with me you can just say so instead of boring holes into my head,” you hiss at him, making sure to keep your voice low so your other bandmates would refrain from paying attention in favour of the lazy riffs Mingi was plucking on his bass while everyone else snacked loudly and chatted among themselves.

Sunwoo, irritatingly enough, shrugs his shoulders. “There’s nothing left to discuss. I’m just looking.”

“There’s nothing left to discuss? What did you mean by you think that told you my answer or something like you very clearly have more to say that you’re not saying-“

“It was a yes or no question. You either have an answer for me, or you don’t.”

“What answer you want to hear so bad?” you press, his sudden change in behaviour since that conversation making you question everything. Questioning things like, did he put you on the spot like that because he thought you liked them, or because he likes you?

It’s impossible to tell, with him – you’ve seen him in relationships before, but he was never truly heart-eyed or smitten over any of those partners the same way Wooyoung and Mingi are, and none of them lasted very long, probably not helped by you and Eric, and for those who came later, the rest of the band as well.

Sunwoo snorts. “That you want to focus on band practice.”

“You can’t just dodge the question like that!” you whine, feeling every bit like a child stomping their foot, but Sunwoo is a very particular brand of frustrating when he wants to be. You figure that’s why you get along so well, but right now you want to throttle him.

“Oh, like you’ve given me a yes or no yet?”

He’s calm and challenging in his tone, casually knocking his head back to gulp down water from his bottle, unintentionally – or perhaps intentionally? – showing off his jawline while he does it, and lets out an over-exaggerated ahh once he’s done just to let you know exactly how unbothered he is by this topic. Asshole.

“You-“

“Pick up that microphone right now or so god help me.”

He’s not going to give you more than that, by the looks of it, and now is not the best time to press – as much as it frustrates you to admit, you do need to focus on band practice now; you were not the only ones who picked up on Stray Kids’ arguably-subtle clapback, and the online presence of the competition has been louder this year than ever before, expecting big things from the runaways after winning last year’s battle. Your audiences aren’t very big, but they are loud, and you know they’re all waiting for you to meet your rival’s challenge.

You have to beat them. You have to.

Picking your mic back up, you heave a sigh and crack your neck, doing a few lip trills to warm up while you gather your wits about you to pry more.

“You’re not as subtle as you think, Sunwoo.”

He only shrugs again, genuinely uncaring as can be, or at least visibly so; despite your attempts, it doesn’t tell you anything at all.

“Guess I’m not.”

And what the ever-loving fuck is that meant to mean, you think, but you don’t have time to voice it when Eric hits his drumsticks together to get your attention and call a practice session again.

You win this time, Kim Sunwoo, but once we wipe the floor with the stray cats, you’re not getting out of this one.

You did not, in fact, wipe the floor with Stray Kids.

Their next performance isn’t of their new song, but it’s even more batshit than the last, just as flashy outfits and makeup and props and stunts – and naturally, the song is stupid good as well. Not just addictive to listen to, but masterfully composed and written, and as a lyricist and sometimes-composer it actually makes you furious at how good their music is.

That being said, they still couldn’t play that music live, because it seems they’re useless without their sound production software.

“Uh-oh, here come the loophole patrol,” Eric scowls bitterly, spotting your rival band over his shoulder as they head towards where you had gathered. “I can’t believe they got away with that twice. If they’re really continuing with that, it’s gotta be favouritism.”

It’s the very feline face of the man in your messages that pauses on his walk past, swivelling around at Eric’s words. “You know, if you talk shit so loudly, people might just hear you.”

“Uh, yeah, I’d sure hope they do,” Eric flashes back, “Everyone else is probably thinking the same thing anyway.”

He opens his mouth to utter a retort, but Chris is quick to grab his wrist and yank him back, giving him a warning look as if to try and keep him in check. Cute.

“Lino…”

You snort.

“Lino? You actually call him that? Don’t tell me you call that one I.N guy that too…” There’s not enough time to think about whether you deliberately wanted to provoke them further, or if that was merely a knee-jerk reaction to hearing them use their stage names with each other so casually. The way they all exchange slightly guilty-looking glances, though, just gives you the ammunition to keep going. “Oh my god. You do, don’t you? Look at you wannabe superstars…”

The leader takes a deep breath, sticking his arm out in front of the others just as they take a step forward to meet your challenge. The way they all halt and close their mouths at the simple gesture speaks volumes of their respect for Chris’s leadership – that, or they’re all just well-trained dogs who will eat out of the palm of your hand if you so much as throw them a bone. Based on your interactions with them so far, you’re more inclined to think the latter – all barring Lino, of course, as they seem to call him, he definitely seemed far more like a cat who isn’t afraid to bite the hand that feeds.

“Can we just skip the song and dance this time? You’ve already accused us of being rigged to win, you got your kicks at the club, do we have to go through this again?”

You admire the visible restraint Minho is taking to keep his mouth shut, lips flattened into a tight line that almost resembles a smile. Either he’s just another dog after all, or he knows how to pick his battles.

“No of course not,” you begin, pausing for both dramatic effect but also for time to think of a clever enough response – it’s only then when you realise that you are, in fact, deliberately trying to provoke them again. They seem to expect this, feet still glued to the floor while they stare at you a few seconds longer, waiting for the ball to drop.

Well, you’ve always been more of a snake, yourself.

“We don’t have to do anything. I’m merely just making harmless observations here, like how names can often imply ego…”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” he snaps back, blinking a second too long that you know he was definitely rolling his eyes at you on instinct. “Does your ever-changing band name have anything to deal with your ego that rivals this venue in size?”

The remaining members break out in obnoxious “oooh”s that you far prefer being on the giving end than receiving end of, making the hair on your skin stand on an end.

“Hm, maybe!” You shrug nonchalantly, thrilled at how easily they took the bait. “Having a big ego is good for the soul, I think. If you find that insulting, that’s not a me problem. Harmless observations, as I said.”

“Harmless observations my ass,” Lino scoffs, narrowing his eyes at you, but he’s smirking, and it’s a little too genuine to be one purely defensive in nature. “You’re a troublemaker on purpose, that much is obvious, I’m just trying to figure out why you feel the need to fight us so badly. Is it your little lovers quarrel, perhaps?”

He eyes Eric and Felix in turn, the two of them straightening up and face hardening at suddenly being thrust into the spotlight. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Minho, too, was instigating on purpose.

You look back at his smug little grin, and start to think maybe you don’t know better after all.

“We’re not lovers,” Felix spits, glaring directly at his ex, “At least, not anymore. I thought we were maybe friends, but that would imply not actively trying to make an enemy of me. You’re jealous, we know, just get over it. Redirect your energy into beating us next round.”

“Jealous?” Eric guffaws, but envy drips from each syllable, and you know he played right into Minho’s hands, if not Felix’s as well. (The latter doesn’t seem as deliberately sneaky.) “Jealous of what, your flashy dancing? Newsflash dumbass, we do that too! We were in a dance crew together for fuck’s sake, you can ditch Force for your buddies here but you can’t tell me you forgot that.”

He grimaces, visibly shrinking at the mention of Force. “I didn’t forget. Can we just... not? Or are you going to provoke me until I get pissed off again?”

“You look pretty pissed off right now,” Sunwoo pipes up unhelpfully, to which Eric smacks him in the arm. He’s seeing red now, and you wrack your brain for how you can run damage control without admitting defeat and bruising Eric – and the rest of the band’s, for that matter – ego even more.

Then it clicks, the exact thing Minho was doing a moment ago – deflection.

“And here I thought you’d grown a backbone, freckles,” you sigh over-dramatically before Eric could get a word in. “Suppose that depends, if we piss you off again do we get a round two?”

“You sleazy fuckboys!” Changbin roars, shouldering in front of Felix almost protectively. “Go stick your dicks somewhere else and leave us the fuck alone, we don’t want whatever STI’s you’re probably riddled with.”

“That's not what your man said in my DM’s,” you snort, cracking up into laughter when you see his face contort into a look of horror toward you then Minho. “Pack it up tough guy, freckles doesn’t need a knight in shining armour, he can speak for himself.”

“Is that not exactly what you’re doing for Eric, tough guy?” Chris challenges, and by now, Felix and Eric had broken off into their own argument while he narrows down onto you. Just like Changbin, it’s protective, from his challenge down to his body language, almost like they’re trying to block you off from Felix entirely. Like he’s their perfect little princess who can do no wrong, while you and Eric are the dragon trying to burn down his castle. Tch. Monarchists and their rose-tinted lenses they see their pretty royals through, letting them get away with anything. At least you’re letting Eric fight his own battles and stepping in only because he asked you to, but you suppose they don’t know that. Hm.

“Is it? I was merely teasing to see if I could get another chance at making freckles come so hard he can’t feel his legs, but I’d get it if you’re a little defensive, Chris. Catch more flies with honey than vinegar, right? Butter him up so you can have your chance with strings attached?”

“That’s Chan to you,” he snaps back, something about not knowing him back then being drowned out by Changbin’s loud protests. If anyone understands the importance of a chosen name, it’s you, but you consider continuing to call him Chris anyway, just to piss him off. Unless he comes out as transgender, it’s not like he can get you disqualified for a hate crime. Just for being a dick on purpose.

“We’re not all sex-crazy like you, asshole! Minho may tease, but he doesn’t sleep around with everything that moves just for the hell of it.”

Though, maybe they can be reported for slut-shaming?

“Aw. Why ever not?” San chimes in, leaning an arm on your shoulder, but you can feel the stiffness under the nonchalance he’s trying to portray. His soft heart gets hurt in fights a lot more easily than he’d like to admit. “That’s real rich, you know, considering your bandmate puts his cock and hole on the internet for a check.”

Hyunjin, who had been sassily piping into Eric and Felix’s argument, whips around without so much as a mention of his name – if it was meant to be some sort of secret, he certainly just revealed himself just now. “Are you slut-shaming me? Aren’t you literally strippers?”

“Ohoho no, we’re not slut-shaming you, your bandmate is!” you cackle, watching as Changbin continued to dig his hole even deeper with his members. He flashes a quick, apologetic glance at the sex worker in question. Hyunjin’s brow furrowed slightly, but you get the feeling that any other reaction he could’ve had was deliberately bit back to save you the satisfaction.

“That’s different—”

“Yeah? How so?” you pry further, “That he’s doing it for money and we’re doing it for fun? God forbid we enjoy sex in this good, purist household! Pfft. Shove it up your ass, Changbin, I’d be glad to do it for you. Real good at it, too.”

“You wish!” he huffs, but that only draws Wooyoung to your argument, curling himself around San’s side with one arm while his other hand stays very blatantly in Mingi’s back pocket.

“Sure do! Didn’t think you’d be such a prude after I gave you the best suck of your life, but suppose I might’ve sucked the sense out of you, too. It’s okay, I can put it back, and just wait till you see what Mingi can do—”

“Oh, are you mad just because I didn’t beat you up last time, too? I still remember how much you like pain—!”

Fists are flying in an instant, Mingi’s much longer arms and larger frame connecting with Changbin’s face before his punch could land on his boyfriend, and just as Chris – no, Chan pulls back to swing, you lunge forward to stop him; only to find yourself yanked back against a warm, flat chest. The arms around your waist keep yours bound to your side, but other than that, it’s a lot more akin to a desperate hug than a grapple.

“Please don’t fight.”

It’s a lot deeper of a voice than you were expecting to hear that accompanies the warm breath on your neck, and that’s when you realise the one holding you back is not your bandmate, but Felix. You wriggle and slip your arms free to elbow him in the ribs, but his grip doesn’t budge, instead trying to tug you backwards. “Don’t! All of you, stop fighting!”

His attempts are futile, none of the others listening to him and you resisting with all your might, too – you’ve overpowered him once before, surely you can again. You land a other well-aimed jab with your elbow that loosens his grip enough for you to break free, but within seconds he manages to hook his foot around your legs and sweep them from under you in a movement far too swift to not be practiced.

Right as you’ve accepted the fate of your skull’s second date with the ground, he catches your arm and prevents your full weight colliding with the floor, which is almost somehow even more humiliating than if he just let you eat shit.

“I don’t want to fight you, so don’t make me. I have a black belt in taekwondo and you do not want to see me use it.”

His threat sends chills down your spine. Hearing it come from someone as pathetically pacifistic as Felix – and you can tell from his tone that he’s dead serious about it too – after he just handed your own ass to you on a silver platter, is positively haunting. You almost want to test him on it, and maybe you and Wooyoung have more in common than you thought because the idea of Felix rocking your shit is rather alluring, but especially with the audience, your pride gets in the way. You can handle them thinking you’re a cheap whore, but getting routinely beat up in fights you started would just make you look weak.

“Fine then, loverboy,” you huff, quickly scrambling back to your feet and glaring at him. Before you continue drilling into him in the area more within your expertise – words – you look up and realise the fighting had finished as soon as it started, with Minho barring Changbin’s powerful arms back and Wooyoung with a decisive grip around Mingi’s wrist, Chan and Eric bickering at each other to the side about being the bigger man. (“I’m five foot seven and a twink, you be the bigger man!” “We’re the same height, genius, but I suppose since you’re so clearly lacking the inches, sure I can be the bigger man!” You’re honestly surprised Eric doesn’t try swinging again.)

“You and your nicknames, huh? What was the last one, halfer?”

You freeze, trying to examine his face for any sort of clue that reveals whether Minho opened his big mouth or not, but you wouldn’t put it past him to make it seem like he would just to grant you the humiliation of doing it yourself.

He notices your hesitation and smirks in disbelief. “What, cat got your tongue? I’ve never seen you short on words without your mouth literally stuffed, but... I like it.”

“Do you now? Will you do it yourself, then?” you tease, itching to see just how far his newfound confidence goes. Excitement bubbles up at an alarming speed given how just a moment ago you were seething, but you find yourself blurring the line between anger and arousal a little too frequently whenever pretty boys are involved. Got to get your kicks somehow, after all – does that make you a narcissist? Maybe you are, because you can’t bring yourself to care, not in cases like this where they so desperately need to be taken down a peg or two.

Get into their head, under their skin, and you’re sure to win. They may be talented and rigged to win, but this is your scene, and you know the ins and outs of it like they never will – namely, that good music is only half the battle, and stage presence is the other. They have both right now, but the latter (which you do better, anyway – definitely rigged.) relies on bravado and ego – if you can wound it enough, their performance will suffer. Stress does plenty to nuke a performance too.

You’re going to have your fun and give them hell while you’re at it.

“Gladly,” Felix retorts, tension rising as he steps back into your personal space again. “Though this time, Eric won’t be there to stop time for you, so how about we try for a record timing, huh two-minutes?”

A surge of humiliation rushes through you, but you grit your teeth and power through it to not so much as shrink under his heavy gaze. “Tch. For the record, he didn’t tell me till afterward, either – though I still don’t think you can compare a bit of bump-n-grind to straight-up giving head. Though, wait a second,” you laugh, and it at least feels like you’re saving face. “What happened to no fighting, huh? Want me so bad it’s clouding your judgement? My, freckles, I’m flattered.”

He rolls his eyes, and for a moment you think he sees right through your last-ditch attempt at deflection, but to your surprise, he instead grabs your wrist and starts pulling you away down a random corridor with startling haste.

“My judgement isn’t clouded, I much prefer this over fighting – it’s more fun, and no one gets hurt.”

His answer is characteristically pure, despite the many impure things you want to do to him that you’re sure he’s probably thinking about too; despite it all, he’s still at his core, so good. Maybe the real reason he left Eric is because Eric is a self-driven asshole who isn’t afraid to speak with his fists, doesn’t pay for half the things he brings home and never takes no for an answer once his mind is set on something.

To you though, those flaws are precisely the things you love about him as well. That same stubbornness that makes him unbearable is also his undying loyalty; you know for a fact he would go to the ends of the earth for you and the band, and previously Felix as well. The fact that he managed to break that trust? Only proves that no-one’s truly an angel after all.

You smirk. “Not unless they ask nicely.”

“Oh?” He tugs you around a corner you’re honestly not sure you’re even meant to be in, but something about that is just as thrilling as the delighted sparkle in his grin at your comment. “You gonna ask nicely then? Gonna say pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“In your dreams.”

“I could be dreaming right now.” He cages you against the wall, leaning over you and hovering his face just inches away from yours, dark eyes drinking in all of your features up close, not an ounce of shame or hesitation in them at all. Hell, with the way he smiles at you, without context it could even look romantic. “Guess we’ll have to find out?”

“Right here? How daring. Didn’t think you had it in you, freckles,” you hum, sliding your hands along his hips and digging your thumbs past the waistband of his pants. He runs a hand through your hair, slowly, gently – then closes it around your locks and pulls, just hard enough for a pleasant sting, but no more. The action is oddly intimate in its softness, and you can’t tell if he’s just that much of a gentle-hearted lover or if he really does want to hear you ask for it.

He takes his time, tilting your head this way and that, exposing your neck to him. It’s riddled with bruises of varying shades from the rest of your band, which seems to fascinate him – he trails a tiny finger along the marks, pressing down on the particularly dark ones and flicking his gaze back up to your face to catch the way your lips part slightly to sharply inhale.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” he says suddenly, deep baritone cutting through the tension the momentary silence was building. You huff at him.

“No, I’m more of a gentle and meaningful lovemaking under the moonlight kinda guy,” you drawl, sarcasm thick on your tongue, but he just smiles again, a small one.

“I thought so.”

For a moment you think he’s playing along with your sarcasm, but the way he kisses down your neck is so chaste it’s almost ticklish, contrasted only by the way he knee roughly wedges your ledges apart and lodges itself between them, pressing up against you. He’s slow with his mouth’s descent, making you pull him by your hold on his pants closer to you, but he pays your rush no mind.

“You know, freckles, I was being sarcastic,” you inform him, starting to think he genuinely got the wrong message somehow. “No shit I like it rough, our last tryst was a borderline wrestling match.”

“I know.” He doesn’t even so much as look up at you, but his kisses do turn open-mouthed as he finds some unmarked skin around your collarbone, deciding to fill in the blanks – and somehow, it’s the softest hickey anyone has ever given you. You’re certain it’s on purpose now, and his next words confirm it. “I like it when people ask nicely, though.”

Motherfucker. “I’m sure you do,” you grumble, blatantly shoving him off you, much to his alarm. He only stumbles back half a step before you’re tugging him back in by the back of his neck, lips clashing together in a fervent haste.

His body stiffens for a moment and you’re about to pull back before you physically feel his resolve crumble, surging back against your mouth with a poorly concealed hunger for more. He flits frantically between firmly grasping your face with both of his little hands as he licks into your mouth and sucks on your tongue, and grabbing at your hips, your ass, your thighs, wherever he could reach, closing that distance as much as possible. It’s like he’s in a frenzy, drunk off the taste of your tongue and the warmth of your body and you can only think that you could get damn used to this.

“I’ve been thinking about this ever since that night in the Prism,” Felix confesses, and the fluttering feeling the praise gives you only lasts a moment before your next train of thought stomps it out completely; Eric was there at the Prism too. His ex. His supposed first love, who he left so carelessly, but is supposedly still in love with and just not doing anything about it even though Eric practically threw himself at him using you as a meat shield. Yet here he is, blabbering about how much he was thinking about you.

He really meant nothing to him, didn’t he?

He’s brimming with excitement, unable to resist capturing your lips in more heated kisses between his words, “I should be more angry at you. You’re a bit– You’re a lot of an asshole.” He kisses you again. “And I know you try to get on our nerves on purpose.” He kisses you again, not giving you a chance to reply, and his lips are too addicting for you to want to stop him. “And frankly, you deserved to get punched.” He kisses you again, longer this time, teeth grazing your lower lip.

“But?” you breathe out, snorting at how Felix places both hands on your butt at that, beaming cheekily at the silent pun.

“Oh, there is no but. You’re a dick, that’s it. I just want you around mine anyway.”

He’s so genuine and honest, even now, and you’re caught between liking it and being bothered by it, likely since around him you are anything but. You bluff and you lie as easily as breathing air, as frequently as a coffee order, and if he knows this, he isn’t calling you out for it anymore. Given the way he seems to wear his heart on his sleeve, though, it’s more believable to think he naively buys what you’re selling, and you wonder if he really trusted your pinkie promise that night in good faith.

Like a fool.

He’s so fucking good. You’d even go as far as to say wholesome were it not for him practically trying to shove his tongue down your throat, but even the way he does that seems so inherently good somehow. Like he’s happy to be here, making out against a wall with his ex-boyfriend’s asshole best friend who effectively is trying to bully him for their own ego and enjoyment.

You really don’t understand Lee Felix at all.

“If you think I’m an asshole now, you do not wanna see me if you hurt Eric again,” you mutter, and the way he stills again makes you wonder if you’ve crossed the line this time before he’s laughing in your face.

It’s not a loud nor boisterous laugh, more dry and callous, though there’s an edge of humour to it. Perhaps a hint of something else, but you can’t place it.

“If I...” he caresses your face, pressing your foreheads together, almost drunkenly swaying to whatever song was being performed in the background, “...hurt Eric again...” he kisses you, again, and were you any less violently turned on you may have even found it disturbing, but instead of speaking more when he stops to breathe, he merely hesitates a second and goes back in for more.

You hate how stupidly good of a kisser he is, and how bloody pleased you are to just keep going; you want him so bad, you want him all over you in the way he wouldn’t do with Eric around, you want to ruin him until he breaks – but part of you is happy enough just to kiss him like this for hours. He kisses you like he cares. Not like a lover, it’s not romantic. His actions may seem so, but you know it’s not the weight behind it, it doesn’t make sense nor does it feel like it. He kisses you like he cares about something, and while you don’t know what, or maybe who, but you know he cares a lot. You’re merely an outlet – it reminds you vaguely of how Sunwoo kisses you when he’s frustrated at something else, or how Eric kisses you when he just wants to forget. How Mingi kisses you when he wants to pretend. How San kisses you like he doesn’t know how to stop.

It’s not like you mind being an outlet. Arguably, you’re doing the same to him. You just hope he isn’t imagining Eric when he closes his eyes and breathes you in – not like you are right now.

“If I hurt Eric again,” he tries once more, forehead pressed back against yours, and all you see are his pretty freckles. Is this is way of avoiding eye contact? You zero in on his presence, his presence, not the absence of your roommate nagging at the back of your mind. Him in all his overwhelming intensity yet deceptively soft when he touches you – gentleness that feels like a threat.

“Then you can do whatever you want with me.”

“What?”

You expected a threat – hell, you maybe even wanted a threat, god knows you’d find it hot especially with that voice of his, but that? You hook two fingers into his mouth before he can close the distance between you again, pressing down on his tongue and feeling shivers at how he doesn’t even flinch or hesitate, simply wrapping those perfect lips around them and sucking on them all while holding your stare with half-lidded eyes.

“No, you can’t just use those pretty lips as a get-out-of-jail-free card, what do you mean I can do whatever I want with you? What if you’ve already hurt him again? Does that mean I can make you ruin your band’s performance on purpose or drop out of the contest or–“

He spits your fingers out and grips your chin in one hand, the other diving down to unbutton his pants. “Actually, I think I definitely prefer you with your mouth stuffed.”

“Hey, you can’t just say that then take it back–“

“We only came down here because I already said I like your mouth stuffed. And I believe you were asking me to do it for you.” He’s already shoving you down by your shoulders, unzipping his fly, the change of mood giving you whiplash. You hold your ground, crossing your arms defiantly.

“And I believe you just told me I can do whatever I want with you. So what I want is for you to either elaborate on what you meant, or shut up, get your ass up, and bend over.”

He outright giggles at you. “Cute, I know you want to fuck me. Go on then, ask nicely and use your manners and I’ll even say yes. Which I think is more than you deserve with how you repeatedly try to drag my team to make yourself feel better about yourself and get involved in other people’s business, but I can be generous.”

“You dreaming while awake now, are you?” You scoff flicking his chest. “I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Face to the wall, ass out, now.”

You have an advantage here, you think. Eric has always been quite the oversharer, especially about his bedroom escapades, and while you definitely forgot a lot of it, there is one thing that sticks out in your memory – his submissive lean. How the two of them would switch often, but it would only take a bit of bossiness to make Felix weak in the knees, and your night at the Prism only seemed to confirm that. He just loves confidence and assertiveness, he eats it up and comes back for seconds, and damn if you don’t want to see it for yourself.

“I don’t take orders from you, small fry. On your knees.”

Suppose you’re not Eric, after all.

“What makes you think I’d listen to you then, halfer? I don’t care if it was technically two minutes, I still made you come in your pants like a horny teenager and you were whining for more. The fuck you calling small fry? I’m like, eye-level with that aggro, loud-ass guard dog of yours. You should put a muzzle on him, by the way, and his boyfriend too for that matter–“

“Pfft, you mean Changbin? Sure, maybe in those boots you are, but he could snap you like a twig. Heard he almost did before Lino showed up.”

“You know, I like that Lino fucker. He’s got a flair for the dramatics, and being a hypocritical shit-stirrer, even to his team and his boyfriend. You know he was purposely trying to get a rise out of you and Eric back there, right?”

He was getting more worked up now, not that the bulge in his pants needed to be any more obvious than earlier, but now his giddy excitement fizzles into something far more potent, raw, and hot to touch, increasing your excitement tenfold. As soon as he loses his cool, you win, you realise, so you make sure he couldn’t cool down if he tried, finally going along with his hand on your shoulder and sinking down to the floor and pulling his length free from his boxers.

“Hmm, too bad you’re keener than he is, I would’ve loved to take him and his boyfriend for a spin – though to be fair, they were pretty keen still,” you go on as you stroke him slowly, but squeezing him tight enough to see his jaw clench. “That leader of yours though, now he’s a piece of work. Has the whole lot of you so well-trained like pets, huh? You guys like that? It’s so pathetic it’s almost adorable.”

“How about you keep my cock in your mouth and my band the fuck out of it?”

You laugh at him, sardonic and demeaning. “I don’t take orders from you either, halfer.”

He tongues the inside of his cheek, huffing indignantly before grabbing your chin again to force you to look him in the eyes, and something seems to click behind them. He huffs again, a smirk spreading across his face as he lets his grip on yours go, patting your cheek condescendingly. “Open your mouth.”

He doesn’t leave any room for argument – not that you couldn’t make room if you wanted to, but teasing him within an inch of his life is a lot easier with him in your mouth, so just this once, you obey.

What you don’t expect is for him to spit directly into your mouth, with surprising accuracy given the difference in elevation. His hand comes up beneath your chin before you can react, pushing your jaw shut.

“Swallow.”

You hate how you already did on instinct when he closed your mouth, and you hate even more how it makes you press your thighs together in arousal.

“Good boy.” He grins at you, wider this time, then combs his fingers through your hair and tugs again, pulling your head closer to him. “Now suck.”

You want to sass him back, tease him some more, leave him hanging just a little longer, but when he speaks to you like that, even lower than the usual bass of his speaking voice, all sultry and commanding – so unexpected from him, so fucking hot, you don’t have it in you to wait any longer. You need to hear that voice of his again, those pretty, pretty sounds he makes when you give him exactly what he wants; you bet it’ll sound even prettier when you take it away from him.

You take him into your mouth, not wasting any time relaxing your throat and taking him all the way in, to his surprise – he lets out a startled yelp that cuts off as he shuts his mouth at the same time as he screws his eyes shut, teeth digging into his lower lip. Were you not deep-throating him, you would’ve smiled. It’s not a pleasant feeling, in all honesty – you’re not like Wooyoung or San, who just love having their mouths full, but you do enjoy the effect it has enough for you to be well-practiced, and once you could fit most of Mingi down your throat, anyone else was a piece of cake.

“Fuck,” Felix hisses out, gripping your hair tighter, but he doesn’t try to make you move, nor does he try to move, but you don’t miss the way he keeps tensing up at how your throat contracts around him. “God— heh, I really do like you better with your mouth stuffed. So fucking good.”

With every noise you pull from those sinful lips at each movement of your mouth along him, the temptation to have him for real grows stronger. You work him closer and closer to the edge without wasting any time teasing him, ignoring the dull ache in your jaw and digging your nails into his quivering thighs. The quicker you can edge him, the less you have to fight against your self-control – after all, you can have your needs taken care of once you get home, anyway.

He stops you before you can get there though, his grip in your hair pulling you off him and prompting you back up on your feet so he can kiss you again roughly.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks breathlessly against your lips, “I’ll do it right here, right here in this hallway.”

Yes, god, please yes. Your resolve thins. “Not such a good boy after all, huh? What if we get caught, hmm?”

Every lick of logic and rationale you have in you is telling you to not, because there’s no point getting Felix disqualified from the competition if you bring the band down with him, but you haven’t heard anyone coming down this way yet, since you’re pretty sure it was staff-only and the staff should be busy with the other contestants right now, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe.

“Guess we better not get caught, then.”

Throwing all caution to wind in your lust-filled haze, you hook an arm around his neck and pull him to you, your other hand undoing your pants and shimmying them down, already dripping wet and throbbing for him. He chuckles darkly at your haste, teasing your clit with the tip of his dick, chuckling again at how your body twitches at the sensitivity from each slight touch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Just put it in already.”

He chuckles again, deep and husky and mind-numbingly attractive, but doesn’t make any move to give it to you.

“Then beg.”

Your eyes fly open, staring at him in disbelief as a surge of outrage pulses through you. “Excuse me?”

He stares right back with an unbridled intensity, those sharp eyes boring into you.

“Beg for it, and I’ll give it to you.”

You scoff.

“No.”

He teases at your entrance, watching your face for any sign of restraint, but you stay steady. If he thinks you’re going to sink so low as to beg for his dick in a ratty corridor, he’s dead wrong. You may be a degenerate, but for him? There’s no way you’re giving him the satisfaction.

“You want me bad enough to let me fuck you right here in public, you can beg for it just once,” he reasons, but he should know better than to think someone like you could be so easily reasoned with. The fact that he ever thought he could get away with it just proves you need to remind him of his place – beneath you. A boy toy to play with at your whims, because you hold the control, not him.

“I don’t think I can,” you coo with faux disappointment, giving him one last chance to quit while he’s ahead. “If you want to fuck me, Felix, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

He senses your challenge, and knows that if he does give in, you win – and lord knows you’re still hanging your previous victory over his head. Deciding he’s not going to give you what you want so easily, he pushes himself off the wall, shrugging with feigned nonchalance. “Nice try. You’re going to beg, or you’re getting nothing.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Huh?”

He can’t hide the flash of surprise across his face as you slip away from him, swiftly pulling your pants back up and re-doing the button, walking off without a word.

“You’re bluffing. Get back here.”

He called your bluff last time, but this time you are dead serious. You don’t need him, or his dick, or even his pretty lips and sexy voice. You want him, sure, you make no secret of that – but in the end, he’s still Eric’s shitty ex trying to take your bands crown with a shoddy excuse of a band, and just because you’re a stripper doesn’t mean you’re easy.

You’ll have him on your terms, or you won’t have him at all.

“You sure like to call bluff. Too bad I’m not bluffing, halfer – I got better dicks to ride. You’re not special.”

You don’t even so much as spare him a glance over your shoulder as you strut off, and he takes a second to recover before tucking himself back into his pants and storming after you.

“That wasn’t what you were saying when you were all over me just then, or back at the Prism—”

“I basically did,” you snort, pivoting around on your heel to jeer at him. “Why do you think Eric won our little contest? Get over yourself, you’re hot but you’re nothing more than a plaything to me. And what happens to playthings when their owner gets bored?”

“I’m not yours to play with,” Felix growls, anger bubbling over where arousal once was – or maybe directly alongside it. “You don’t own me, or anyone – are you seriously that up yourself? Wow. I’m sure Eric is so lucky to have a friend like you.”

The glare you give him at that is fucking scalding – how dare he question your relationship to Eric? How dare he ecen bring him up now? He’s the one who abandoned him. Seems like he’s just like most other cis men you know – all sweet until you don’t put out. How typical.

“At least I’m not the one who left,” you spit in his face, whirling back around and pacing off without any intent of turning back.

[sugar-petals]

🌹 Sub!SuperM 18+ HC: Riding Their Faces

↳ NOTE. These guys... I swear. Bringing some heat to the dash right here. Enjoy the SuperMadness 👀

word count. 3.7k | bullet points | ot7

WARNINGS. ⚠️  all explicit, cum play, latex, hair & sweat kink, bondage, spit, brat taming, toys, breath play, ass fixation going strong, dominant reader, femdom, degradation, hardcore, veins kink, graphic language, strap-ons, crying kink, clothed sex, some crack

⌜ 💋  byun baekhyun ⌟

▸ strength: energy

not for the faint of heart. baekhyun thoroughly enjoys you giving it to him roughly; it’s the leader being led, how sexy is that

i spy with my femdom eye, baekhyun likes the bossy dommes who bring him to his knees — quite literally.

case in point: hates seeing you hold back. tells you to just bounce on him how you want it. no fumbling around, it’s gotta be hot and proper.

whatever you’re insecure about he hasn’t even noticed. the more confidently you’re taking your designated seat, the better. this shit’s gotta make him all loud and squeaky, baekhyun can’t get enough of your wild and demanding side. “don’t you dare move your hands!” — he’s already hooked.

yep, he’s part of the feral squad. and louder than the bass in jopping for that matter

small as hell face but the jaw is sharp, you can literally feel it, he fits between your legs so well

endless breath. put your pussy all over that nose, grind on it, cum all over him. society will thank you for suffocating a millionaire

like seriously the breath play is off the charts. if he’s into asphyxiation you’d not be surprised

meanwile baek’s naughty hips keep on bucking, like hello there, giving you a cheeky 69 invitation

such a cocky little shit, whiny byun all the way from those ruined orgasms he’ll be getting cuz you might just touch him with two fingers at best, you know how to keep him on his toes

swallows everything he’s like whatever, almost chokes because he’s so messy and greedy to taste you. damn baekhyun

does a “mmhhhnnn...!” sound all the time, this guy has pussy all over his face and is still more vocal than you no matter what you do

eats ass, all day if he can, knows the most shocking techniques, wants to get crushed by booty he’ll end up admitting it. no matter how big or small yours is. because remember, that face is small, everything is big to him

the type to cum on his stomach way before you do. groans a lot, then goes on even more intensely, how the hell did he just leak out five ounces of semen and still manage a whole tongue workout

slobbery and all over the place, those are tongue movements you can’t even think of in your wildest dreams

baekhyun is never content just making you cum once or just really lowkey, much less hearing you being silent. he’s a moodmaker, he naturally wants to hear you, and see you twitch like the world ends for goodness sake

brattiest tongue ever, always pulls out the taunting puppy licks, tries to grope you all the time, he’ll get a rough spanking later believe me

also gets his payback from you being crazy wet, as beautiful and cute his face might be it’s gonna end up damn ruined

not gonna lie his voice acrobatics will turn you into a waterfall that’s coming down on him

you can punish him for teasing by going raw with your hips, mochi is in wonderland, seeing stars. put his wrists in a spreader bar and go off is what i’m saying, YOLO

since baekhyun annoys the members by being so hyper in the evening, they appreciate you knocking him out for sleep. and indeed baekhyun dozes like a baby, probably using your ass as a pillow or something

you’ve drained the shit out of him and um watered the flower that is his face, so

another cupcake down, mission success, baekhyun certainly had his fill not to mention lucky you having to deal with his wildly talented mouth ahem, moral of the story annihilate him with your ass

⌜ 💋  lee taemin ⌟

▸ strength: steaminess

you will come (heh) to discover that none of his lyrics were a lie

yeah he’s busy hot boy shit for his gal

taemin has an all-soft and plush tongue that’s super pinkish. it literally feels so good, how to ever get enough of it holy shit

it also happens to be very long so buckle up, he wants to be deep inside of you, serve and please you

probably the most slow and agile movement in the group, tantalizing is the right word for sure

prefers kissing and sucking over just licking because he’s sappy, good on him and good on you those lips are heaven and need to be used by all means

once you go on the pill, taemin will eat his own creampies straight out of you, maybe even two at once, it’s taemin c’mon he’s above-average horny lord knows how much sperm he’s hoarding

loves drowning it seems

raunchy stuff aside, he always dresses up nicely or wears the fluffy sweaters you like the most on him. what an exclusive ride, the scent of the clothing turns you on even more he’s pulling all the registers taemin is so docile and giggly

most sensual style in the group, will edge and give you goosebumps first before the main course even remotely goes down, taemin thinks in several stages hot damn he calculated this 

his face heats up so much it’s crazy, then again kkoongie capitalizes on all the warmth from the radiator so you might as well be taemin’s personal heating alright. it’s fun seeing him sweat like mad, see his neck veins bulge... ugh 

is gonna be a provocateur and try to nibble on your folds, man he just wants to get slapped around you can see right through this brat’s rowdy plan

might even want his ass played with while you ride his face so prepare for some intense contortions, fingering, butt plugs, prostate massage, the whole array, gladly taemin is flexible

always pulls it off hands-free because he’s a pro and well yeah he’s always tied up how um totally surprising

and any challenge he will meet that i guarantee you

he has immediately apparent shinee concert stamina, longevity like his career, taemin can lend his face to your purposes for the whole night he doesn’t care if he needs to chuck it in the freezer afterwards

bonus: if taemin doesn’t at some point wear one of his glittery masks for sexy time, somebody is probably impersonating him and it’s not the real lee taemin i’m afraid

so many orgasms you’ll stop counting, one blends into the other, even if you’re not moving much, how does he do it

that being said gee can we just appreciate how beautiful his face is, everything about him, it’s gonna be so sexy and soft to kiss him to sleep oh my god

⌜ 💋  kim jongin ⌟

▸ strength: escalating

just how industrious is he? dammit kai is the rent due or something, this shit is not a comeback stage cool down

jongin is needy as fuck, he’s desperate to taste you especially in the morning when his lips are all plump

since then he’s skipped his skin care routine you do the bulk of the moisturizing you see

jokes aside get ready for whimpery kai thrusting his face right into you because he can, should you need something to hold onto, his thighs are literally right there

constant high-pitched moans, some during quick pauses, others stifled, kai are you okay he’s really going all out 

so thirsty

if you don’t put a harness on him for this you’re missing out, also you need something to hold this wild slutty motherfucker in place

rock-hard throughout, harder than a goddamn superm choreography

also: sturdy chin that can take a lot, it’s made to be sat on

does a lot of the work, very active, main dancer vibes you know, you can be lazy and just enjoy

most continuous style in the group, gradually getting more and more passionate and nervous — the second you thought it gets boring he goes off, have fun losing your mind and seeing him basically K.O. himself

if he wants to make you cum, rapid tongue jabs deep into your clit, and his hard breath against it, no fair play in here

absolutely has a thing for your shaking thighs, like what the hell he’s blowing a huge load the more you tremble, and he’s goddamn crying from pleasure every time woah

those big ole lips are an absolute treat, yeah i’ll say it again his face is meant for this

wants to be called all kinds of names wow jongin, it just spurs him more

kai. is. so. good. 

you can most definitely film your own POV cam, jongin can put on one hell of a show. just this time it’s not his eyes flirting with the camera, it’s his tongue getting a nice rough treatment oh yum

don’t get me wrong he can deliver a romantic version of this, but kai just likes you being tough on his face he can’t deny it

uses his hands so you can ride him even harder, all his teddy bears will be falling off the bed like dominoes

might one day ascend to heaven while giving head, wouldn’t regret it

can do it until complete exhaustion you guys just pass out

being such an oral workaholic do i sense a masochist streak in him there? 

fucking typical capricorn

⌜ 💋  wong yukhei ⌟

▸ strength: appetite

first off yukhei is hilarious

it’s called eating out and that’s exactly what he does duh, he’s not nicknamed foodcas for no reason — the restaurant is open my dear, and he just served himself five courses (you)

gets super sweaty, forehead and down the neck, a 6′0 glazed bun can you imagine

giggles a lot, makes the atmosphere relaxed, loves banter before and after, an allround sweet experience

though beware, this guy is hungry. most prone to open his mouth super wide he wants to eat all of you at once

don’t tell kun how nasty he is, much less leader baekhyun, promise me that

and especially nosy kai should not hear about what sexy shit yukhei is doing in his freetime unless you want to trigger a war 

that being said the wayv dorm is still the safest place to sit on his face, so. it’s a lawless land there, nobody gives a fuck anymore at this point. yangyang would not even blink if ten murdered someone in cold blood on the balcony, that’s how the atmosphere there can be best described

lucas being a far more harmless himbo still ironically fits into the environment being so sexually insatiable, just how often are you going to fuck? it’s only natural to lose the overview

he loudly pouts and complains when it ends, wants to go on and on, you need a lotta stamina to get with this guy this is not a warning it’s a fact — yukhei really wants to tire himself out and give everything

if you lower your thighs just a little you can feel his dangly earrings. kinda sexy but also a safety concern i know i know, he’s not gonna wear them next time 

noisy as heck, wants to do well, always goes the extra mile to be sure you are all happy and satisfied with today’s dining

his tongue is... big...

we’re not gonna talk about that giant bulge either, such a huge tent in those pants it’s a whole camping ground. anyway

what we’ll talk about. his super soft blonde hair, we’re talking salon quality soft, that’s amazing to feel against your legs, it’s great to pull as well, or to twirl really playfully

though there’s not much playful going down when the initial inhibition drops

he’s not made of glass you can really get those hips going

sliding down his nose when you’re all wet... damn good stuff.

lucas is the kinda guy that has you grunting and gritting he loves your reactions, and how aggressive you can get. usually he’s the reaction king but like this? he can get used to it.

totally into having that kinda frog perspective it’s a whole new thing, he’s such a giant now he’s below you, the sight is just superb to him

less likely to have toys involved, but rather a bunch of rope for his chest, his arms, his long ass legs. yukhei is a bondage insider tip y’all

stable as a block of metal. if you go a little too wild on baekhyun he’s probably gonna break his mochi neck but lucas is a different calibre, this mf is made of giant muscles galore, i can only say one thing: finish him

⌜ 💋  mark lee ⌟

▸ strength: speed

talks a lot, even occasionally curses — instantly apologizing, but you curse right back, so this becomes the cussing olympics at some point, taeyong would bury his face in the ground all his parenting efforts have gone to waste

mark basically chokes himself

he can’t control his spit by all means jesus... in his own words: must be the drip then

next to taemin and baekhyun here we have the third drowning victim, mark is in serious need of multiple tissues or towels afterwards but that’s exactly what he likes

mark’s slutty side is not to be underestimated i’m warning you

that’s a healthy young man right here

loves to do quickies to get you off during daytime, if you’re horny just tell him and he’ll find a quiet spot, might do it on his knees rather than you riding him sometimes for practical reasons 

all options open, mark is flexible af. if someone can promote with nct dream and superm at the same time that’s the result

so yeah you’ll experiment with positions and even outfits, what’s the most comfortable to wear? 

few people even remotely think about this. mark himself stays in his signature sweater but the glasses come off, you know very well he’s a nerd without them he has nothing to prove lmao!

the clothes will be cozy but don’t let that fool you yet alright

this guy has watched too much porn to just keep it light and cute

don’t get me wrong you can baby him ad nauseam for the more gentle femdom moods

but at the end of the day mark loves some intense shit, he likes feisty girls who aren’t coy and subby, the more perverted you are the better, in fact he enjoys being shocked with brazen attitude and getting orders on what to do.

loves it when you to take it all out on him, rough is good. mark lee’s face is the rodeo range of super m alright, just don’t break his glorious jaw or anything, he still needs it okay

but yeah mark’s face is tempting to ride hard not gonna lie

his tongue can go so fast it’s at the speed of sound, no, the speed of fucking light. mark goes crazy on your clit, wait a few seconds, boom five orgasms rain down on you. 

it’s like an anime swordsman just lifting the sword hilt, walking off calmly, and one minute later things are in shambles like how? mark’s sword tech is just epic like that

he’s a leo what did we expect, show-off

in the meantime, RIP to mark lee’s pants. they’ll be soaked with cum, gonna be a bitch to hide your clothes from taeyong who’s always eager to wash everything by himself

that aside, mark really enjoys the position, he doesn’t need much else to be honest, he goes “oh my god oh shit” enough for you to know

thank god he’s a rapper, otherwise his dang technique would be dangerous, he doesn’t breathe for half a minute or so

enjoys you really doing shallow thrusts, super fast and sloppy, loves how much you enjoy it

needless to say: breaks a guinness world record for most licks per second, it’s that mark lee flow

long story short his face is your favorite spot he can prepare for a daily session

all that practice on water melons paid off good job markly

⌜ 💋  ten lee ⌟

▸ strength: allround skill

you know a pro by how he’s offering you a tall glass of water beforehand

and by the way he’s chugging one himself

champion, a keeper

you’re guaranteed to love it, ten is amazing

takes his time, gets to know your every inch, figures out your soft spots in a matter of minutes to seconds

everything for his sexy mama, service sub right here

take him on a leash, grind on his lips, make him kiss your clit, he’ll respond by circling his tongue around obediently

chittaphon might be a little fidgety at the beginning, but the atmosphere is not as tense anymore after doing it two or three times. 

ten is actually quite good cracking lighthearted jokes and showing his more extroverted side, he always gets like that with a partner. 

you have an easy time with build-up conversations and communicating in general, same with aftercare pillow talk

that being said the degree of professionalism this guy is heading for needs a lot of talk in the first place. 

ten likes doing advanced things that aren’t just intuitively understood, you need to exchange yourself a lot

through trial and error you figure out how to incorporate sex toys into the little routine you have going on

the pleasure will be so intense you’ll never want anything else fuck

ten is also down for a lot of moving around, some athletic shit

you’ll go from bouncing on his dick to smothering his face back and forth pretty much, let’s see how fast you’re gonna bust a huge nut like that my bet is five minutes

those like “oh... ah—” moans are just angelic

since he focuses so much on your erogenous zones and always keeps his hands involved, ten is always guaranteed to have you breaking a major sweat

ten does not like to eat any fruits, they say. well that’s true, because he’s too busy eating you that is. boy can basically retire from citizenhood, he’s that busy between your legs. 

enough fruit juice for an entire week impending, don’t worry about his nutrients, this is also a form of diet.

uses his chin, his cheeks, the nose especially, the damn nose it’s perfectly shaped

wants you to really ride him hard, and fast, no holds barred at all, going so feral he’ll be squeezing his eyes shut

sometimes his hair gets in the way, it’s just so damn long. the result: hair ties for face-sitting, always on his wrist

among all members, buries his face the deepest, turns him on so much

always makes sure you’re both washed up, no impromptu sessions. ten is a hygiene priest and he’s right

the mattress is kinda bouncy and he always uses his favorite soft pillow under his head so you can definitely take mister ten lee to pound town like work your hips give it to him

in case he survives i send my congrats, you got yourself the right guy, terrific choice queen

⌜ 💋  lee taeyong ⌟

▸ strength: ideas

how much more religiously can he eat you out, he treats this like the best reward he can get

as you can probably tell by now, all the lee surname members are definitely a certain brand and clan of highly distinguished pussy eaters like, these guys are a fucking gang like... well taeyong is no different

reckless abandon oral, eats you like it’s the last day, even death fears lee taeyong when he’s in giving head mode

you might be showering together beforehand and be all shy and kissy like it’s puppy love. but that is all for naught when the tongue of god is unleashed and taeyong gets himself as messed up as he can

yeah i like the thought of god being incarnated as kinky taeyong begging to have his mouth spit and cummed in it just makes sense

very deep mumbles, very hard breathing, those veiny hands on your waist, he wants to make you feel good so bad, fuck he’s so sexy

intense facial expressions, need i say more

also um... he likes to be... threatened. he’s the student you’re the teacher, strict as hell surveying his every move, the more you yell at him the harder he gets, jesus christ he has a thing for you acting mad and shit

taeyong doesn’t even need you to pull off your underwear, he’s gone get through any type of fabric with that leaking mouth

let’s just say he likes to experiment with innovative techniques... anyway, taeyong is a nasty fucking freak, he’s a grade A hoe, you never know what to expect

one time he just licks like a shy doe, the next second slurping explosion 5000

imagine whipping his thighs with a riding crop while sitting right on that ultra gorgeous elven prince face like

taeyong is almost always getting super emotional. he sheds even more tears than kai, like at some point you’ll develop a crying kink because of him SOS

nervous as hell, shaky hands. that can easily be fixed sir let’s tie em up

has you moaning nonstop, he’s so engaged and so dead-on with his movements. don’t be surprised if this damned man has your eyes almost falling out

beware, this guy is into full-on sensual deprivation as well. blindfolds are only the start. 

you might end up with a whole lotta black latex involved, who knows, a whole gimp on him he’s down for that, he learned from ten what it is blame chittaphon’s vast kinky knowledge

even better: while you’re grinding on him, taeyong likes you pumping his cock with a fleshlight with zero mercy until he yelps in tiny oops

hell he might ask you to roughly fuck his face with a strap and then ride it, the mister likes double treats huh

then again: wants it to be degrading and dirty and intense on some days, and really wholesome and romantic on others

especially aftercare will be sweet and dulcet, you take care of him, pepper him with kisses for being such a dutiful boy.

looks pretty no matter what. maybe he’s born with it maybe it’s tyongbelline. yeah just how handsome is that face and hair like... t’yongreal paris in full splendor

long story short he’s an oral deity. i rest my case howdy and goodbye see you next time aye

superm masterlist

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 13: Fury

Lucky number 13 🥴 This is a chapter that got dark unexpectedly, but I hope it isn’t too rough! 

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know~!

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 17,000+

Summary: The world Javi navigates through begins to encroach into his peaceful haven with you, and when a terrifying incident blindsides you, how will it impact what you both have together?

Warnings: Javier Peña being that fucking badass, graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of unprotected sex 🤭 Use of provocative and slightly degrading pet names, depictions of violence, drunkenness, and mentions of blood. Descriptions of physical injuries caused from an assault and battery. Dom/sub play, cum play, size kink, spanking kink, dirty talk. Allusions to past trauma, underage sex, and emotional repression. Some Dom!Javi, Dom!Reader, Sub!Javi, Sub!Reader, Possessive!Javi, Wrathful!Javi, and Soft!Javi. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Chapter 13: Fury

The next week was supposed to be uneventful.

At least that had been your estimation based on things in your life. The pilot program was doing great, you and Ellis were busy but content, and leadership had been praising the work, even mentioning that the State Department were pleased with the effort and would be replicating the pilot program across other embassies. You are really feeling good about things and your boss has hinted to some departmental reconfiguring that would allow for better alignment to the kind of stuff you and Ellis have been lobbying for since you'd joined the embassy. It's exciting, and you're very proud.

Then, there is Javi.

You'd felt the shift from the moment he'd called you once he and Murphy had gotten to Medellín. He seemed tense, and like he was going out of his way not to come off that way, but you know him now. You can sense it – hear it in how he parcels something out, or how he shifts the pitch of the bass of his voice. Something happened, you know it, but he won't tell you and you don't think you should ask him on the phone.

When little over a week goes by until you see him again, you're trying to quell your concerns. He's called you every chance he could, and you've let him banter over nothing and flirt you up when he needed, and obfuscate when he couldn't give you details about things in Medellín. It isn't until a couple of days since you last spoke, when you're sitting at the kitchen table and pouring over the latest batch of requisition documents you need to finalize and submit the following day that Javi shows up at your doorstep.

Even his knocks sound off, so when you answer the door and see him standing there a bit aloof – not leaning a hand charismatically into the doorframe, or smugly quirking a brow at you, you duel with your impulses. Covertly, he eyes you behind his sunglasses, comforted by your casual t-shirt and short set, standing barefoot at your threshold.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," he tells you in a charming tone, but you can't see his eyes behind the polished sunglasses, so you snicker and pull him in through the threshold and close the door before you wrap your arms around him. He's wearing a toasted khaki colored suit, dark tie and white dress shirt. Even the way he has the knot of his tie yanked loose and the top button of his shirt undone gives you clues.

Javi drops his duffle and sets his folder aside before plopping his aviators onto it to hug you with gusto, quelling the lonesomeness he's had and was having a hard time shaking loose of. "I missed you, querida."

You relish the hug too, reveling in his warm scent, the heat of his skin – the smell of smoke clinging to him through the fragrance of his soap, aftershave, and his natural spiced musk. Sighing, you nuzzle him and let him bury his hands in your hair before he tips your face up and captures your lips.

Javier has longed for the press of your plush lips, having missed your form as it slinks up against his, how you pull him close, and the discerning, no-nonsense look you give him when you gaze up at him. His brown eyes are soulfully pensive, and you feel sad, and you don't know why.

"What happened," you pose, not really ask, and Javi snorts – lips parting in a twisted grimace of bemusement.

He's marveling at how you're able to see right through him. It should bother him after he's gone out of his way to keep it hidden, but now that he has you in his arms, he feels like he can let go – drop his guard. "Shit. What gave me away?" he can't help ask acerbically as he lets you lead him over to the couch. The balcony doors are open and letting in the serene early evening breeze in while the light from the sunset glows orange warmth into the space of your living room.

Once you're both sat and you can stare earnestly at him, you declare, "You get flippant when you're trying to gloss over shit. You've been doing that on the phone since after you got there," you pause when he exhales and flicks his soulful gaze away, so you sit up and cup his cheek, caressing your thumb across it – stirring his gaze back to yours. His brown eyes flare chestnut from the dying sunlight while shadows cast themselves over part of his profile. "You do not have to tell me anything. I just…if you're not ok, or something bad happened, I hope you'd tell me."

The way the sunset's light comes into the space and silhouettes one side of you while framing the other resplendently has him getting distracted by how beautiful you are, and unbidden, his runaway thoughts bottleneck with his stubborn concerns, which allows the one thing he's wanted to say to you to wriggle free disjointedly and out of his mouth.

"I missed you so much, it's kind of ridiculous. I feel like I'm getting soft, and I can't make myself care about that…but I can't afford to be soft," he rumbles and shifts so he can kiss the palm of your hand before pulling you close when your lips part and brows furrow at his words. "Sorry, that was fucking nonsense—"

"It doesn't sound like nonsense," you interrupt and resist getting pulled into his lap so you can gaze at him and have your wits about you. "It sounds like you're saying you want to…stop."

Javier exhales and gruffly shakes his head before getting angry with himself and sitting to the edge of his seat so he can bury his face in his hands. "No. That's not what I meant," he grumbles and fists his hands in his hair in aggravation. "I only mean…the stuff we were doing. It's risky, and it never really bothered me before. It's…starting to give me a bad feeling. I can only account that on having…" Javier pauses and exhales in frustration with himself, so he straightens and looks over at you now. There's no guarded expression, no preamble to a deflection. "I didn't have anything to lose before."

His words strike you like a jolt to the funny bone, and you stare at him, feelings bubbling up in you that you were not prepared for. "…Why does it give you a bad feeling?" you ask instead, swallowing the myriad of anxious feelings that are clawing inside you.

Javier didn't expect you to ask that. Huffing at himself, he shifts back into the couch and moodily cups his hand over his mouth and leans heavily into his arm once he's propped it at the elbow to the armrest. After a tense silence of him deliberating whether he should tell you, he decides it's best to show you. Reaching over for the folder he put down on the side table, Javi retrieves it and hands it to you.

Blinking down at the offering, you glance up at him, and when he nods reassuringly, you open the folder. There are stacks of blown up images with date and time stamps along the bottom of each photo. Confused, you shuffle them over your lap and realize they're of the same location – the back of a truck's transport trailer.

"Steve threatened the driver to snap those from the hidden camera he rigged in the back. That's how Club Medellín gets people and items in and out of the prison," Javier explains as you look closely and see everything from political officials, prostitutes - even lobsters on ice being smuggled to and from the prison. "We had a meeting with Gaviria's guy, Sandoval, and showed him these today. He looked horrified…but I just have a feeling they're not going to do shit about it," he adds gruffly, as you fan through the images and see they were taken over the course of the time Javi was gone.

With a cleansing sigh, you arrange everything neatly and close the folder before tossing it down to the coffee table.

"So…what is giving you the bad feeling: that you and Steve keep risking crossing over dangerous lines that'll blowback on you, or, that you're stuck with no one who'll act on this and ultimately justify all the reckless shit you both have been doing this whole time?"

Javier looks stumped when you turn and stare openly at him. He's clearly trying to decipher your measured, casual tone, so you raise a sharp brow at him.

"Or," you add exactingly, "You're not bothered by either of those things because that's nothing new, but the fact that you 'have something to lose' now is what you deem to be a source of concern for you – that our relationship is making you…soft?"

Yep, Javier did not expect you to say any of this. Really, he wasn't thinking beyond unburdening himself of his pent-up frustrations, but his stupid mind had spat out the one thing he'd wanted to tell you in a wholly different way.

He'd wanted to tell you that he is afraid of things blowing back and falling apart so bad that it would pull you under with him. That every time he did something now, he worried if it would have an unknown consequence that would affect you. What if – and this was becoming lesser and a lesser of a big 'If' – Steve snapped and he'd have to help clean it up? Or if someone got leverage on him, just like they dig up and wield leverage on others? Sure, Javier was careful – you both have been, but could he really pretend that if he did something dangerous or kept flirting with political disaster, that it wouldn't impact you by proxy? After all, one of the big reasons you insisted on keeping things secret was because of your professional relationship. What bigger way to jeopardize that than for you to be linked to a DEA agent that massively fucked up?

"Just…listen to me. I'm going to say stuff that I know will piss you off, but if you can reserve your feelings until I finish?" Javi tells you and takes your hands before you can fold them impatiently in your lap. Huffily, you nod, and he gives you a stern, etched look. "This is going to get really messy, no matter what the result is. Every time I do something now, I worry. I didn't worry before, because – fuck it – if it didn't work out, the worst they could do was transfer me out, or get sent before the board of conduct – just bureaucratic bullshit that I never gave a shit about anyway," he pauses his earnest grouse to collect his thoughts and choose his next words carefully. "But now? I worry all the time. Steve's…getting close to the edge, and if this doesn't play out the way he thinks it should, I think he's going to unravel…and he's my partner, so I'm going to keep him from doing that."

That hits you like a heavy smack, and you reel from the flare of your temper, but you swallow it down when Javi takes a cleansing breath and waits for what he clearly expects to be a haranguing from you.

Frowning, you shift to sit closer to him and surprise him when you comb your fingers through your hair and take a very measured inhale before exhaling.

"I'm…really trying not to lose my temper right now, or jump to conclusions, or put words in your mouth, so I really just need you to tell me one thing, Javier," you tell him in a calm, albeit imperious intonation, eyes clear and expression becoming cool as marble. "Are you saying you don't want to be together anymore?"

Javier stares at you heatedly. "Fuck no!" he declares and grunts in frustration before grappling with it to snap, "When the hell did I say anything like that—?!"

"You kept harping on being so worried now about the cunning shit you assholes are doing to nail the cartel blowing back on me? The only logical conclusion would be to take me out of the equation – to stop seeing each other," you snipe in crossly and scoff when he stares at you with that infuriatingly endearing puppy eyed look of his. "What? How is that not something I was to read into?!"

"Because I never said it, so why read into it and get that, querida?" Javier counters, and pulls you back down into the couch when you huff and go to stalk off. "What do you want me to say? That I haven't thought about the worst-case scenarios and yes, worried that because of me, you could deal with fallout at work—?!"

"Javier, I'm not a fucking civilian. I know what goes on," you interject snippily and scowl at him when he hesitates. "I can handle myself. My reputation is mine to ruin, ultimately," you pause and look him pointedly in the eyes before you lob crossly, "What you're really worried about is me being the reason you hesitate on continuing to do the reckless shit you do in pursuit of this whole business with the cartels."

He feels like you punched him in the gut with the accuracy of how precisely you can read him. It's scary how you can tell him what he feels better than he can tell himself, and now, with the sadness that flashes across your tough façade, he feels like a complete moron.

Once again, he berates himself about how he's utterly unworthy of you, and it twists up in his chest.

"That's only a small part of it…I worry about you getting swept up in all of this because of me," he rumbles lowly. "If anything was to happen to you because of me, if I couldn't protect you…I don't know what I would do."

Startled, your eyes tremble at the irrevocable sorrow in his hushed baritone. It's tinged with deep self-loathing, and it hurts your heart to see Javier fume with himself. He goes to stand – wound up and desperate to storm off – to be alone, but you root him in place by grabbing his hand and squeezing.

"Stay."

Javier feels the panic dissolve from his coiled up muscles, and when you tow him back, he sits easily – heavily into the couch, but can't meet your gaze. So, you literally climb onto him and force him to look at you. He blinks bemusedly at you and your bossy stare as he seats his hands instinctually at your short-clad hips while your soft t-shirt-clad bust brushes his chest.

"You aren't the only one in this. I want to protect you too," you murmur and press your forehead to his. Javier exhales and bores his molten gaze into yours, lips pressing together as he encircles your waist and pulls you to lean into him. "I don't care what happens, as long as you're safe and in one piece, Javi. I will never judge you," you emphatically muse, brushing your nose against his as you whisper, "Do you understand?"

Javier nods and closes his eyes, savoring how at ease you've made him after days of being welled with worries.

"I just want to keep you safe. I don't want any of this sordid shit to ever come near you," Javi confesses, eyes opening to capture your surprised stare while his hands caress up to brush your hair back so he can frame your face. "If I ever feel that's going to happen, I will protect you from it."

He gets lost in how soft your eyes become, and how gentle your expression gets as he leans close and brushes his lips reverently against yours. Your soft perfume and sublime scent snuffs all the rancorous fire in him that'd been stoked from days of wrath and uncertainty, freeing him from the burdens he walled inside himself.

Your lips part when he covetously plants kisses to them while his hands caress you lovingly to him, making you melt and tremble with yearning.

"Javi," you attempt between kisses. "Mmm, j-just…promise me you'll tell me before," you pause when he captures your lips and deepens the kiss for a few delectable seconds. "Mmph, mi amor – promise me you won't shut me out," you sigh against his mouth when he starts to grope his hands down your curves in a tantalizing fashion that has your core throbbing and cloying with need.

Pulling back to adjust you in his embrace before rising to his feet with you in his hold, Javi drawls, "Only if you promise not to argue with me."

Wrapping your arms and legs around him, you glower, getting a bit appalled. "That is ridiculous—"

"It is not," he objects goadingly and strides down to your bedroom as he muses, "I don't know what kind of shit it could be, so if I need to keep you from it, I can't say whether I can tell you too much."

When he sits you down onto the bed so he can take his blazer off and loosen his tie before undoing his shirt cuffs to unlatch his watch and set it aside, you moodily lay back and exhale dramatically. "If you ever did that, I can promise you that I will be absolutely furious with you," you assert in a hard tone and ignore his glance as you sit up to recline on your elbows. "You're always talking about my wrath? That's when you'll see it."

Javi suppresses his wily smirk and turns to toe his shoes off as he sets his service weapon and badge to the dresser. "Then I can only hope that we don't fuck this thing up and we can nail the cartel in one fell swoop, bravita," he mutters amusedly, which snaps your surly glance to narrow on his broad back as he starts pulling his shirt from his trousers before he starts unbuttoning it.

After he shrugs his shirt off, his hands are pushed aside when you slink up behind him and loop your arms around his torso to reach the front of his waist. He stands straighter when you glide your hands up his torso to trace his stomach muscles. "You think I'm joking," you murmur against his back as you fan one hand across his bare chest before skimming the other teasingly down his stomach to slip your fingers beyond the waistband of his trousers. Javi stifles a grunt of excitement when you brush the other hand down to slip its fingers down his pants too. "Take your belt off," you order on a lilt.

Javier yanks at his belt buckle with hasty fingers and loosens the leather to slacken and unfasten. His back broadens against your cheek as he inhales a deep breath when you pluck the button undone and unzip his pants so the other hand can venture lower, unimpeded. His body reacts deliciously, shoulders tensing while his hips buck at your tantalizing caress down his apex to comb your nails through the thatch of coarse hair that smatters down his navel to frame his manhood.

He groans and grips his hands onto the edge of your dresser when your other hand ventures down his pants to fondle his balls while you enjoy how his weighty velvet cock fills out in your hand as you languidly stroke him.

Your lashes brush his back when you shift your cheek after he bows at you wrapping your hand around his hardened shaft and stroking up. "You would really dare make me furious with you?" you ask in a chiming intonation as you stroke Javi's now-throbbing arousal and lightly squeeze his balls when you emphasize the word. His response is a hoarse groan and for him to bow his head and pant harshly. "I think you like making me mad," you muse in a honeyed drone as you start to jerk him off, and Javi makes an exhilarated sound he stifles by biting his lip and gripping his hands harder into the wood of your dresser.

Javier is burning with depraved thrill at your treatment, feeling so wound up after the week without you that he's shamelessly rutting into your hand like a horny teen. His face is scalding from the blood that's flushed hot against his skin, and you can feel it as you lean into his back and drive him wild.

"You get off on getting me infuriated, don't you," you murmur and squeeze your fist around him before dragging it down to his base. He exhales a grunt and his cock pulses in response, all as you cup his balls and hold the warm spheres in a way that gets him anticipating a possible squeeze around them too. You can taste the eager need on his skin when you kiss the line of his spine, and just when you can feel him start to coil up with desperate arousal, you whisper, "It turns you on to have an effect on me? To make me so angry that I just don't know what to do with you?"

Javi lets out a raspy exclamation of air before gritting incandescently, "I-fuck-I don't want to really upset you, ever, querida—"

You suddenly recede your hands, slipping them from his hips to squeeze his sides affectionately. "Good boy," you chime sweetly before stepping back and grinning.

The way his back broadens and his shoulders square while he lets out a startled and frustrated huff is just too good for you not to enjoy, so you miscalculate just how incensed with desire Javi is when he turns and looks at you. His coffee-brewed depths are pitch-black from how molten with lust they are, and you blink at him before he literally sweeps you up and presses you up against the dresser he'd been hanging onto for dear life in order not to lose control. Now, he jams you up on it as he hauls your shirt off your head and snaps your shorts and panties off in one swift motion that has you gasping.

Now wearing only your satin bra, Javi spins you over to the foot of the bed where he pushes you to splay your hands down onto the mattress while he bends you over and retaliates with wicked yearning. His hand cups your pussy from behind and earns a startled mewl from you as you toss your head back and almost crumple onto your knees down on the foot of the bed. Javi's other hand gripping your hip stops you, and before you can get your bearings, he's sucking a hard kiss into the back of your nape.

"Yes, I like getting you worked up, you fucking vindictive little temptress," he growls close to your ear as he taps the pads of his middle and ring fingers over your mound, jolting you and coaxing a shocked, albeit aroused squeak from you. With a possessive rumble, he drags those same fingers through your slick-drenched folds, taunting wickedly, "Look how fucking soaked you get – hot and wet for my cock to pound into your aching little pussy. You want me to wind you up so I can fuck you silly. Admit it."

This table turn is by far the most overwhelming and enticing thing over your sparking senses you've experienced in a while, and you moan when Javier pulls his fingers from your tingling, dripping cunt – only to sear the sensation with a sharp spank across your ass. You cry out and buck back from the contact, plush lips parting on a silent mewl as you try and recover your breath.

"That wasn't rhetorical, atrevida," he husks thickly and swats your ass a little lighter this time. You mewl, and Javi watches as your plump flesh blanches before swelling red where his hand struck before he stares and hums in approval of your cunt clenching excitedly around nothing.

"Ja-Javi—"

"Take your fucking bra off."

You are shaking with titillated anticipation as you reach behind yourself to unfasten your bra and slink it off to the floor by your feet. Javi licks his lips and rubs himself through his trousers at the sight of you naked and trembling with submissive delight after you've worked him into this tizzy.

"Nothing else to say now? You were such a fucking daring brat before," he seethes erotically, his voice hitting a dark pitch that has goosebumps breaking out over your skin as you let out a shaky breath. "Maybe I should punish you for once. Bend you over my knee and spank your bratty ass until you beg—"

"Maybe you should," you provoke in a pitchy purr and venture an instigating glance over your shoulder at Javi as you bend your lower back and stick your ass out more.

Well, Javier was insanely turned on, and after that obscene taunt, every fiber in him is coiling with charged need, demanding he let his baser urges loose.

You expect him to manhandle you onto his lap for the promised spanking, but Javi surprises you by brushing up behind you, tauntingly rubbing his hard-on over your ass as he presses flush to your back and gathers your luscious, thick tresses into one hand to be swept away from your shoulders.

"You're so fucking lucky I don't have my handcuffs with me, guapita," he grouses against your ear, and you shiver, biting your lip as the hand with your swept-up hair tightens and tugs. You exclaim and latch your hand at the wrist of the hand he's gripped at your waist. "If you want me to fill that tight, hungry little pussy with cum, you better behave and take your spanking," Javier murmurs heatedly to your ear before leaning back and letting go of you.

Your brain is syrupy mush after that, so when Javi goes to sit on the side of the bed, still clad in his unbuttoned trousers and nothing else, it takes your fogged thoughts a minute to comprehend the unspoken command.

Come here and bend over.

You twitch, all the haughty energy in you winding in appalled anger, but with how the clutch of your cunt clenches wantonly for the promised depravity? Those voices are snuffed out by your base need to be dominated right now. Shakily, you straighten and saunter over to him, gaze locked onto his as you shamelessly stand before him.

Javi thinks it's totally a fifty-fifty chance you'll bend to his will, so he tilts his head in a confident leer and lets his smoldering eyes rove over your body before scathing darkly, "Need an invitation now too?"

Why something so debasing gets you so wet is beyond you, but you narrow your eyes and surprise him by pointedly draping your naked form over his lap and purposely squeezing his knee once you're settled – ass up in the air, begging to be spanked.

You can feel his erection jut up through his clothes, so you submerge your cheeky smirk and murmur, "Dámelo, Javi…punish me while you still can."

You feel him rile at that, and before you can be pleased with yourself, Javi swats your ass, just over the plumpest juncture across your supple derrière, and you gasp out and clench from the sting that radiates across your skin and zings excitement into your pulsing flesh. Before you can acclimate, he spanks you again, but a little lower this time, which has you squirming and involuntarily moaning when the sensation makes your pussy throb.

"I think you like getting spanked," he condescends ruggedly and fondles a globe of an ass cheek before slapping the buffet of his fingers down into it and watching it shake as you gasp out and writhe. "Look at that," Javier purrs and surprises you by spreading your thighs ajar enough for him to dip his fingers to rub your cunt. You groan and rock your hips at his possessive touch. "So fucking wet from getting your ass smacked a few times?" he husks almost reproachfully before rasping in a gravelling pitch, "You like being a bad, devious little bitch so you can get this sexy ass dominated, don't you."

When your insides light up and your core gushes with excitement, you press your lips together and tuck your chin against your chest, causing your lush hair to cascade over your shoulders, hiding how lust is blossoming over your tantalized expression. Javier's hand lands across your ass – right where if your knees weren't pressed together he would be millimeters away from tapping your pussy.

"Ahh—mmm!" you cry out and fidget in his lap. "Y-Yes, I do," you answer tightly on a sigh, hands gripping the bedding, wringing them into the material for fear of digging your fingers into Javi's thigh.

Javier hums approvingly, and rewards you by bending down enough to brush a kiss along the cleft of your ass. You mewl, and he darts his tongue out to trace the tight crevice made by your glorious plump flesh, drawing a needy sound from you.

"This ass is mine," he declares huskily as he rubs his large, warm palm over it while the other gropes up your spine to lightly grip the back of your nape and squeeze. "Is it not?"

You stutter an excited intake of breath, and nod, but Javi presses his thumb into the back of your neck. "Yes, it's yours—"

"Yours…what?" he prompts suddenly, and your brain is filling with the haze of your carnal hunger simmering on a slow burn.

"I-I…I'm not calling you 'daddy,' atrevido—ah!" your huffy sneer is cut short by your cry of surprise when Javi slaps your ass and keeps his hand against the stinging flesh.

"That sounded like bratty back-talk," he mutters goadingly, tone a scintillating bass over your senses as he drawls, "It sounded like you did not want my cock after all—"

"Nngth, I want it bad," you insist and bite your lip as your face burns with a shameful blush.

Javier chuckles smugly and starts edging you with his fingers flicking teasingly along your soaked pussy as he growls cavalierly, "Then…be a good girl and tell me who this ass belongs to, pinche zorra—"

You rile violently at that and whip your hair back to snap your blazing glare at Javi. "Who the fuck are you calling a fucking slut!?" you hiss and he comically recoils at the sudden shift, hands going to grip you from possibly tumbling off his lap from how you're curling around to rail, "Mira, hijueputa malparido—you call me a slut again in any language, y voy a acabar contigo, you hear me?"

He definitely knows you're incensed by the nasty pet name. When you speak Spanglish like that – interwoven in vehement swears, he knows he's hit a nerve, so he assures, "I got carried away, querida—don't ever think I mean any of it—!"

"Yeah well, I know that, but I do not like that," you seethe and adjust to shimmy your pelvis down from being draped over one thigh so you can prop your torso sideways over his lap and glare up at him. "How would you like it if I called you a fucking slut?"

Befuddled by kind of being turned on by that, Javi presses his lips together to dampen them, but you see the way his coffee-brewed eyes glimmered with a spark. "I won't say it again, cariño. Any variation of it, I promise," he appeases and strokes his fingers along your back while his other hand cups under you to pillow your head. When your temper cools and your eyes soften, he hazards a wry huff and mutters, "Shit, that was really getting sexy too…"

Sitting up seductively, you tilt your head to the side and size him up. Sure, you're the one completely naked and until recently, were getting spanked and fingered by this tenacious and handsome man, but something in him is pinging a signal of aroused yearning that only you can feel vibrating in the air.

He watches your demeanor cool into a sultry calm, lips parting serenely while your eyes pin him in place as you effortlessly scamper to your knees and straddle him, to Javi's enticed surprise.

"Ah, mira que rico," you purr and curl a hand to caress the hinge of his jaw while the other buries in the back of his dense tufts before tugging lightly on the dark strands and earning a hitched breath from him. "And here I was, on the edge of calling you a very naughty pet name while you were spanking me, but now I see you'd prefer a few others, eh?" is your throaty drawl as you brush your nose against his cheek and watch Javier shut his eyes and submerge that titillated chill that shoots up his spine. "Mmm, mi amor, are you a filthy deviant who likes to be called nasty things?" you ask against his mouth before nipping his bottom lip.

Javi groans and chases your mouth, but you pull away and smirk deviously at him. His molten eyes are surly with urge, but you see he definitely wants to play, so you drag your hand from cupping the side of his jaw down to his throat as you snarl devilishly, "You want me to take your cock and do whatever I want to it, you fucking slut."

His hands tighten on your waist as he defiantly stares at you, but you feel his cock throb in the confines of his pants, so you smile and keep dragging your hand down his corded neck until you swivel your thumb over the hollow of his throat. Javi's breath hitches in electrified enticement at the contact as you tighten your fingers in the strands they're gripping and tug a little harder. "Mmph!" he growls and you smile dreamily at him before you release both your hands on him and shove him hard onto his back onto the mattress.

He feels your warm weight leave his lap just before you yank his pants off and dispense with his underwear brazenly, causing his charged breath to sail out of his lungs while his cock bobs and strains up, begging to be touched.

"Hmm, what to do…" you click your tongue as if deliberating with yourself. "Any other time after you teased me like that? I would've fallen to my knees and begged you to bathe me in your cum," you tell him as he lies belly-up and stares rapaciously at you. Your tits bounce when you crawl over Javi and deliberately avoid touching him before you gaze down torridly at him. "But right now?" you pause as you watch his expression etch in furiously wanton concentration. "I think I want to fuck you like this – under me, and just when you're close to coming, I'll get off of your cock," you tell him simply.

Javier riles at that and sits up. "W-What about—"

You hush him with your fingers grazing over his lips. "I wasn't finished. I'll get off, and sit on your face – make you get me off with your tongue, like the pussy-hungry fucker you are, puto beyako," you growl and relish how his eyes flutter as he arches in filthy excitement.

"Fuuuck…querida, please, let me jerk off while I eat your orgasm out of you," he asks in a husky grouse, and you can see the flush creep up his chest to radiate up his neck before fanning out over his cheeks and up his ears.

"Why should I?" you ask nonchalantly. The look in his eyes is priceless, and the way it darkens has your clit throbbing. "Ah, it's because you're such a needy, pent-up slut who's been in a fucking rut for a week without my pussy, is that it?"

Javi burns with shame about how shamelessly turned on he is. "What d'you think?" he challenges, defiantly grousing, "I didn't ask for your panties to frame them, tentadora." When you give him a smug grin, he mutters, "All I've done is jerk off like a fucking lech to the smell of you every damn day for a week."

"How many times a day?"

Scandalized by your blasé query as you straddle his lap and start to grind your soaked pussy over his straining cock, Javi tilts his head back and lets out a frustrated hum as you take his hands off your thighs and toss them onto his sides, down on the bed.

"H-How many times did you use that toy while I've been gone—?" You swatting his chest warningly curbs Javi's cheeky sneer, which riles him to stare up provocatively at you just as you drag your nails teasingly down his chest. His eyes narrow as he fights the urge to arch in pleasure, lips stuttering apart before he smacks them back together fiercely, his defiant streak clearly becoming part of the game to see how far you'll go.

"Unlike you, I'm not an insatiable whore, so the toy stayed snug in its drawer," you taunt licentiously and press your palms flat over his broad chest as you nudge your ass over his cock before pivoting to undulate it so it parts your folds before sinking down on the thick, throbbing length with a delighted hum.

"Oh—" Javi bites back his moan when you slam him to the hilt inside of you and flex your floor muscles around him, but do not move. "Ah-s-shit, preciosa, please," he begins to negotiate but your hands groping possessively across his torso before you dig your fingertips into his pecs causes him to shudder and groan. "Christ…mmm—fuck, baby—"

"You want me to move, you needy descarado?" you purr and squeeze your muscles hard, earning a stuttered, pitchy exhale from Javi as he arches and writhes. "Maybe I won't. I can stay in complete control of myself, unlike you…" you punctuate by reaching your hand backwards to massage his balls. He lights up and shouts out your name as he grips your thighs desperately. "See? I can feel your cock already twitching inside me—all wound up from me calling out how much a filthy hijueputa you are—"

His fingers knead into your thighs so hard that your tendons flex back and he steals your breath mid-tease. "Hmph, I can't…can't keep still like this, pinche atrevida," Javi growls and rolls your hips possessively over him, which makes you whimper and tense up.

Just when his patience with the game is about to splinter, you smack his hands away and squeeze your knees warningly into his sides. "Tú eres el puto atrevido, so if you're going to be like that…" you level in a breathy hiss and lean down to tease a kiss over his parted lips.

Javier's expression etches into rough want, but his eyes lower to your lips before flicking to your eyes. "…I'll be good," he grinds out tersely, and you smile brilliantly before nudging a cocky kiss into his lips.

"Will you, malcriado?" you goad and nuzzle him. When he grunts huffily, you purr, "I can't decide if I love you being a brat or being an obedient guapito."

His eyes flare with intrigue and his brows quirk. Hands coming up to pull you close so you can press your breasts over his chest, Javi murmurs, "That's because you like bossing around both, bravita."

You laugh, eyes twinkling as you kiss him.

The kiss inevitably becomes torrid, and his hands on you while his cock throbs inside you has you getting really turned on, so before you can help it, you're both sharing the dominance.

Javi maneuvers you onto the bed and holds your arms over your head by cuffing your wrists in one hand and barreling his thrusts while he rubs your clit with the other. And when he feels you getting close to the edge, you surprise him by wrapping your legs around his waist and pivoting to roll him onto his back so you can buck hard on him and suckle a possessive kiss into the slope of his shoulder.

"Mmm, ride my cock, baby," he growls and presses his hips up to meet every buck of your heat down on him.

You gasp and cling your hands to his sternum as you whimper and fuck yourself hard onto him. When you climax, you whimper ardently and cry out his name as you keep riding him through your bliss. Javier loves watching you come, and the silken clutch of your cunt clenching greedily around him has sinful yearning coiling hot in his gut. His hands grip your waist, and you can feel his body start to tense and flex under your hands, so you moan and give him a devious look, panting and undulating your hips.

The look raises his hackles into thinking you're going to go through your threat from before, but you grab his wrists and shift the angle of your silken heat over his cock before bucking hard onto him and whispering, "Tell me what you need, querido."

Javi's resolve melts at that and he groans, "N-Need to come inside you. Please…please let me fill you with cum, baby."

Your core answers before you do by fluttering as you moan and toss your hair back and murmur, "Yes, yes, give it to me, Javi. I want all of it—"

The salacious pitch of your voice has him going taut under you while his fingers dig into your hips and he shouts his wanton delight as your rippling sheath strangles his swelling cock and milks him of his climax. You cry out and ride him through it while Javier involuntarily pounds his hips up into you – rocking into your flooded heavenly cunt while a broken sound catches in his chest from the mind-blowing ecstasy. Heat blooms deliciously inside you from the force of his spend filling you, and you are alight with sensation as you curl down onto his torso and melt into him.

Thrilling, kinky foreplay aside, the sex is exquisite after going so long without each other, and you just stay a spent heap on him for a beat while you both recover.

"…Does it really turn you on to call me a slut?"

Javi is still trying to recalibrate his brain after such a soul-sparking orgasm, so he's on delay and questions whether he heard you right. "…It doesn't if it bothers you," he mutters softly against the side of your head as you nuzzle your face into his neck. "It really just slipped out, mi amor," he murmurs and cuddles you. "But it did turn me on how foul-mouthed you got," he chuckles, and you snicker airily.

Only the sweatiness of your conjoined forms is what motivates you to eventually part long enough to get into the warm cascading water of a hot shower. You both linger in the shower together a little longer than normal thanks to how soothingly he massages your shoulders, and how he helps you tenderly wash between your sore thighs. It's insane how much you missed the ache, the sometimes, albeit deliciously wrecking stretch of him pounding home into you before claiming you deep with his seed. Once nice and dry, you order food in from the great Peruvian spot you found that delivers, and while you lounge in your silk robe and eat together on the bed, you finish up your paperwork while Javier tells you about the insanity of 'the tunnel' being the truck the cartel used to smuggle to and from the prison.

He's propped back against the headboard and eating his fill merrily while you reach over him to get your drink from where he set it down next to his on the nightstand once you've tossed your completed work aside and go to curl up next to him. It's a slightly cool evening, so he's actually wearing a pair of his boxer-briefs and his college shirt – the one he'd let you borrow. Sidling close and sipping your drink, you eat a piece of chicken off his plate and hum.

"So, fill me in – how've things been at work?" he asks as he sets his plate aside and drapes his arm around you. He's itching for a cigarette, but it can wait until he goes out to the balcony and locks up your place for the night.

You shift to sit up and wiggle your brows dramatically at him. "Well, for one thing, that asshole Danvers got suspended after all," you tell him, and he grunts dryly. "Two-week suspension. Turns out he'd already been on thin ice with his superiors," you shrug and finish your drink.

"…He's lucky that's all he got," he mutters in a dark tone before huffing and taking your empty glass and setting it aside for you.

When you feel the broody cloud start to creep over his mood, you playfully nudge your shoulder into his side. "In other news, guess what the last agency to hold out on agreeing to the C.O. pilot program is?" you chime and grin at him. He scoffs and suppresses a smirk. "Yep! And I will no longer abide your silliness, agente," you quip and brush your hair behind your ear when he grumbles and shifts to try and slink out of bed. "Nope!" you pounce playfully on him and scamper onto his lap.

Javier laughs and roughhouses with you, of course minding his strength, but you always manage to surprise him with the fervor and power you contain in your petite form. "That's not my department, señorita. You'll have to take it up with the DEA's resources person," he drawls aloofly while succeeding in pinning your hands to his chest so he can steal a peck from your lips. "I'm just an asset in the field—"

"I happen to know, for a fact, that you and Murphy flat out told that guy you had no intention of doing the training," you levy cuttingly, eyebrow arching chidingly when he gives you his flinty poker face and squints humorously at you. "You gonna deny it, mentiroso?"

"…Nope," he deadpans and shrugs when you grunt snootily. "Baby, c'mon—you really expect Steve and I to carry around a fucking laptop with us when we're on assignment?" he lobbies and gooses you affectionately, and you squeak and swat his chest, giggling while he sighs, "And besides…I'm not really trusting how secure our tech is."

Sobering at that, you settle more comfortably, sitting on his thighs so you can adjust your robe while you ask, "Why? They're straight from IBM – completely encrypted and only someone with a network key could come close to crack it."

"I'm sure," he muses and caresses your hair, petting it affectionately before idly running his fingers through the length.

It dawns on you that he'd mentioned something similarly edgy over the phone recently – of course, prefacing it in a naughty quip of, '…can't risk talking dirty on here anymore. Never know who's listening', and of course you knew about the main surveillance system and tactical way Centra Spike collected their leads. "Well, I'm going to be really aggravated if I can't get you guys to play ball," you jibe acerbically. When he just gives you a goading, smug look, you pinch his sides and sneer, "Just because you're my boyfriend, doesn't mean I'll allow you to be a get-over."

He really smiles when you say that, dimple appearing to tease you and softening his handsome features. "What're you gonna do to make me, bravita?"

"Maybe it's about what I won't do anymore," you counter. "Specifically, you."

He grumbles haughtily at that and pulls you close. "Do you know how horny I am after a week without you? You can't threaten something like that," he grouses in a surly rumble as he starts tugging your robe to try and sashay it open while you fend him off by slapping his hands down coquettishly. "I think you need another spanking—"

"Hah! You're the one being a stubborn pain," you exclaim sardonically as he flirtatiously wrestles you onto the bed. "Have you ever gotten a spanking?"

"Pfft, not after I grew out of playing in sandboxes, no," he slinks you across the bedding when you grapple onto his shoulders and let him get between your thighs and pin you down. You scoff wryly and pull him down onto you, so he nuzzles the crook of your neck and rumbles ruggedly, "Didn't like it then, definitely won't like it now."

You giggle wistfully at that, and relish being flirty and silly with him after the tense week apart. Javi feels settled too, dropping his guard enough to enjoy the time with you and bask in your loving grace. You fool around, and delight on how you're able to give each other pleasure so easily – without effort or self-consciousness. Javi makes you come with his mouth, and you drive him over the edge with yours. It's so good – entrancingly gratifying to enjoy being each other's, to get lost in your passion and trust the other to keep you tethered.

Later, once night has advanced and he's had his cigarette, closed the balcony doors and shut the lights, Javier comes back into the bedroom just in time to see you slinking out of the robe and shutting the lamp off. Your nude silhouette is enchanting in the low light coming from the open window slats, and when you crawl under the covers, you muse, "Are you just gonna stand there staring, galán?"

He exhales a wordless grumble and strips out of his shirt and underwear before slipping under the covers with you. "No lotion?" he teases, sliding up against you and caressing your luscious form under the bedspread.

"Too chilly for that. I'll lotion you up before work, if you want," you murmur and turn in his arms to slink your leg over his hip and cuddle closer.

He can feel the heat of your body, how warm you are between your thighs, and he's instantly aroused. After he's ravished you with gusto, you lay cuddled up on his chest and talk in the dark. It's sublime and you feel completely safe, sated and warm in his arms – open to him and his idle questions, and he entertains yours with devious zest.

"—Ok, gracioso, when was your first time?" you snicker, eyes heavy-lidded but alert as you feel him exhale tensely. "We already agreed not to get testy with either of our lines of questioning, chavón," you cajole sweetly. "I promise not to swat you."

He grunts amusedly at that. "First time fooling around? Or first time getting laid?" he specifies, hand idly weaving his fingers through your thick hair while you toy with the curls at the back of his neck.

"Both, you hustler," you joke and relish how he squeezes your waist cheekily.

"…Think I was thirteen with the first, and maybe fifteen – no – sixteen with the latter?" he muses and you have to press your lips together to not have a reaction. "…I know you're bursting at the seams. Have at it," he quips.

"Nope…not at all," you evade and kiss his chest.

"You want details. I can feel you getting wound up with questions," he snickers and shoves his hand behind his pillow so he can prop his head up to glance down at you.

"It sounds like you want to volunteer details," you counter wryly and tilt your face up so you can trace his features dotingly with your nimble fingertips.

Grunting, he shrugs. "First was with a buddy's sister at a party. They locked us in the closet together, and we fooled around until they opened the door and we pretended nothing happened," he regales you in a honeyed murmur, and you smile, so he adds, "And got laid for the first time after a football practice, in the back of my pop's pickup."

You bite your lower lip and wiggle your brows in feigned shock. After all, picturing a teenaged-football-playing Javi fumbling with a girl's bra in the back of a pickup truck's cab is just too endearing. "I'm not going to lie: those are both quite tamer than what I imagined," you deride affectionately.

He reaches his hand down and pinches your ass, earning a yelp and for you to adjust so you can drape across his torso and smack his hand away. "I guess my damn reputation is so sordid, I can't be surprised—" he grouses with a gruff mutter and scratches at his forehead before fisting his fingers into the front of his hair reticently. When you purse your lips mockingly at him, he shoves both hands behind his head and stretches out lazily under you as he drawls, "Alright…what about you. First times?"

You knew the gamble of asking him could result in the question coming right back around at you, so you serenely recall the catalogue of raunchy sexual exploits from your teens. "Well…first time fooling around? Fourteen…and with an instructor," you recite and blink unselfconsciously down at him when his brows quirk in surprise. You don't know that Javi's recalling the fourteen-year-old you from the photo sitting in the frame on a shelf in the living room. "And first time having sex? I think that was…soon after?" you ponder out loud and tap your chin. "Yeah, it was. After a party at the house – in the study," you muse and snicker, "Sounds like a game of Clue—"

"Fourteen?"

Sobering at his musing tone, you give him an easygoing smile. "Yeah…fourteen. A whole year plus or so before you – how scandalous," you deadpan sarcastically and roll your eyes as you smile and add, "I'm pretty sure that's the first time, anyway—"

Javi doesn't know why it's riling him, but he'd promised not to get testy, and he isn't judging, but he can't help…wonder. "You're pretty sure?" he nudges and tries to remain nonchalant.

You read him, though. Stare sharpening, you muse, "Yeah – pretty sure. It was an…eventful year. I went a little wild," you pause, knowing that's the understatement of the night, but you smile and continue smoothly, "So, was the first time with a cheerleader? Because that's totally what I pictured."

He snorts, and nods. "Yep. She was waiting for me after practice, and luckily knew what to do," he jokes, and you chuckle charmingly at that. "What kind of party was it that you were able to sneak off to the study and pop your cherry?" he asks sardonically. But, when you glance away, he shifts to sit up into the pillows, watching as you hesitate – as if you're considering shifting away.

Feeling his trepidation build, you reassuringly lean back down and let him caress your shoulder, trailing his fingers along your upper arm while he tips your cheek up with his warm palm. Smiling, your stare gets faraway as you reply, "It was my father's wedding party…"

Javi silently catalogues everything you've ever told him about the man and your relationship. You'd never gone out of your way to give him details, but from everything he's gathered, you are very much estranged, and have been since your mother died. Well, with intermittent periods where you've tried to be civil. Knowing that you'd said the photograph in the other room was taken when you were around fourteen, and that meant it had been the last time your mother and you had visited Colombia together? Compounded with this information? That would mean she'd died sometime after that trip, and your father had remarried within the same year?

"…I've heard worse first-time stories from friends. Mine was actually nice," you continue, distracting Javi to fixate on your blasé shrug and pursing lips.

He is burning with questions, and you snicker at yourself before shifting to snuggle against him, feeling the weight of his care and protective grace envelop you.

"Who was it?" he asks, unbidden, but he can't bring himself to just leave his thoughts turbulently thinking the worse.

"A Naval Academy buddy of my father's."

You can cut the silence, so you elaborate, "I'd always had a crush on him, and it sort of just happened, I guess." You sigh, feeling comforted by his warm embrace as he encircles you in his arms, so you volunteer more. "He was divorced—stayed hanging around the house while people were in the yard, and I took him up to the study to get him the good cognac," you murmur and melt against Javi as he rubs his warm palm along your lower back.

Javier is internally fuming, not at all prepared for the admittance no matter how much he told himself it would be better to know. You are so casual about it, and it makes his heart ache. He's warring with what to say, and you sigh and kiss his jaw.

"He didn't force me, if that's what you're thinking," you whisper when he just goes so quiet, hands cuddling you protectively. "At that time…I was so…angry. I wanted to feel anything other than that, so…I did."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Javi murmurs thoughtfully and presses a kiss to your forehead.

You scoff dismissively, but not in a hostile way. "I think I'd need a few stiff drinks to muster the effort…"

A heavy silence reins for a beat, and Javi presses his nose to your hairline and inhales a sobering breath, working up the confidence to confess how angry your admittance made him, and how he wishes he could've protected you then, before, after – in all facets of time, and how he loves you and has no idea how to ever express it with the gravity he thinks you deserve.

"Wait – was Lorraine the cheerleader?" you suddenly pipe and sit up, eyes wide with mirth.

Javi's brows draw a furrow above the ridge of his nose and he scowls. "How the hell did you figure that out? I literally gave no details," he mutters haughtily and grunts when you give him a dazzling, albeit wily grin. "Your powers of perception are unnerving sometimes," he drawls in a rasp, smirking as he steals a kiss from your goadingly quirked lips.

"Is it bad I want to meet her?" you tease impishly, and giggle hysterically when he starts mercilessly tickling you.

You manage to wriggle his hands into the pillows so you can sprawl out on him and kiss him wickedly, so he relents and lets you settle down over his warm torso so you can rest your head on his shoulder. Arms tucked affectionately around him, you sigh at him pulling the covers over you both, blithely humming when he holds you against him. Just as you're closing your eyes, Javi grunts curiously and nuzzles your hairline.

"Hmm?" you murmur inquiringly.

"…What was the naughty pet name you were gonna use?" Javi's baritone is low and dreamy, hands idly rubbing up and down your back.

Smiling once your thoughts recall what he's referring to, you purr, "Oh, it was going to be 'mi patrón,' just to get you real wound up."

Javier scoffs in faux outrage at that before irreverently squeezing you and loving how you slink affectionately into him and kiss his neck cheekily.

Neither of you dwell on the heavier portion of the conversation after that, too grateful and anchored by each other's love to let anything weigh you down. You're each other's counterbalance to the frustration, anger, doubt, grief, and self-loathing that could invariably tip you into moroseness. Sure, you compartmentalize it all so you can stand back and look at what makes you up from an objective point of view, but even now, as you reflect on the night before, you can't help pine amorously – to be subjectively infatuated and bone-deep in love with Javier.

He's able to center you and make you feel so safe. Part of you worried about becoming dependent – losing self-reliance in reining your own turmoil in yourself without Javi's comforting grace.

Snapping yourself out of the ruminating reverie of your thoughts, you go back to concentrating on the shipment requisitions before you. While you shelve your girlish fawning so you can finish work and look forward to seeing Javi later, you have no idea that he's finishing a call with Sandoval – one that dashes any mild hope he'd had that the Colombian government would come down hard on Escobar.

He and Steve are irascible, and he can see plainly how it's wearing his partner thin, so when Navegante, of all people, reaches out to him for a meet-up, Javi reluctantly calls you just as you're collecting your purse and work tote at the end of the day.

"—Sorry to spring it on you last minute, querida," he mutters tersely, frustrated and only mollified by your sweet, reasonable patience.

"Don't worry about it. I'll see if I can catch a ride with Ellis," you tell him in Spanish. "Just…be careful, and keep your boy on a short leash?"

Javi chuckles, as he shoots Steve a glance. "I'll try. Talk soon."

Soon doesn't come fast enough, and after a few days of not hearing from him, you start to really worry. The only thing that stops you from checking in on him is the office chatter that spreads like wildfire in the embassy – about supposed narco associates going into La Catedral and never coming back out. You overhear the guys in Mil Group whispering about it when you go in with the two boxes of doughnuts you'd been meaning to treat them with. The idea that something so brazen was done in a government-sanctioned club-med for murderers is kind of poetic to you, but you don't say it out loud to anyone.

It nullifies some of your anxiety about not hearing from Javi though – figuring he and Steve were squeezing leads and trying to find the tethers that would reel Escobar in once and for all into a real prison sentence. It gives you a bit of solace to hope Javier finally gets to vanquish this foe, even though you also worry what it could mean in the long run for your relationship. After all, having no Medellín cartel to take down anymore would mean a new assignment…perhaps even something that takes him back to the states? Where would he end up?

Would he want to stay?

Would you want to go with him?

The thoughts plague you for their clingy whininess and you stamp them out like a kindling that won't go out completely.

You're placated to at least be at the end of the workweek, so you can spend your weekend on your flights of fancy without risking screwing anything of importance up.

Ellis just finished trying to cajole you out to the Friday night happy hour, but you decline so you can finish a particularly tedious report you'd been putting off all week. He offers to swing by and pick you up, but you wave him off and tell him you'll take the shuttle bus before it gets too late. Pretty soon, you're the only sound in the office – the clicking of your nails typing away on the laptop keyboard echoing in the quiet space. You're so engrossed in looking over your work before hitting the submission to enter it into the server when your desk phone rings and startles the bejesus out of you.

Snatching the handset up and answering in your regular office greeting, you are surprised to hear Javier on the other line.

"Jesus, you're still at the office?" he grouses, a surly edge in his tone as he muses, "Been trying to call your place."

"I had to finish something up and can't access the server I need from my place," you answer and furrow your brows, a bit miffed. "I haven't heard from you in days. Is everything ok?"

"…I need to see you. There's something I want to talk to you about, but not over the phone. Can I come pick you up?" Javi obfuscates, and his tone gets guarded, so you quirk up and take your computer glasses off.

"Yeah, I should be done in a few minutes. Meet at the usual place?" you ask as you multitask and finish skimming the one section of your report you'd almost been done reviewing.

"Yes, I'll see you in fifteen minutes," Javi muses before saying goodbye.

You try not to pout at the fact he didn't say 'love you', or any other term of endearment. Annoyed with yourself, you scoff and go back to finishing what you're doing in order to pack up and start heading down.

Finally done with the forsaken report, you submit it and log off before locking up your laptop in your desk and collecting your things. A few minutes later, and you're taking the elevator down by yourself to exit onto the lobby and pass the security staff. You greet them and wish them a good night as you adjust your camel-colored peacoat so you can more comfortably fling your tote over your shoulder with your purse.

Once you've breezed out the entrance into the chilly night air and taken the steps down to the aboveground carport, you take your little route through the compound grounds to get to the checkpoint gate and take your usual course. Crossing the sidewalk and over the little promenade that's adjacent the way you need to go to get to the side street Javi meets up with you and drops you off from, you get lost in thought as you hustle. It's a quiet street with little foot traffic or cars because it's a no-park zone, but with Javier's jeep having embassy tags, he can park and idle there without issue. It's a brisk night, and you pull your lapels closed to keep the chill from your torso as you bound over the pavers of the picturesque walkway that intercepts the sidewalk of the side street. It's a bit of a walk along a dimly lit path, since the tree canopies obscure the lampposts that flank the street ahead and behind you, but you've done it routinely enough that you don't give it a second thought.

You're taking the moment of unburdened quiet to wonder what Javi needs to tell you, and why he seemed so on guard with you. Is he really getting paranoid about talking on phones? What could he be doing that has him having to stew over it now—?

"Hey!"

You almost jump out of your skin at the sudden shout, and you whirl around to see a big, burly and somewhat familiar figure approaching you forebodingly. It isn't until he passes the illumination of a lamppost that you recognize Danvers. All the panic alarms go off in you, and you train your expression into stoic calm as you change your stance and grip the straps at your shoulder.

"What do you want?" you call out and internally swear at your stupid heels and tight pencil skirt, hoping they won't obstruct you too much in case you need to—

"I got a fuckin' two-week suspension cuz of your stuck-up ass," he slurs, and the closer he gets, the more you can see his inebriated glower and smell the stench of liquor on him. "Bad enough I gotta eat shit because of you, now I gotta see you prancing around—?!"

Instinctually, you take a few steps back, mechanically pulling your purse's strap across your body so if you have to run, you won't drop it. With a sobering inhale, you deflect, "Look, if you have a problem with your suspension, take it up with your boss. Now, why don't you go your way and I'll keep going mine—"

"You really think you're something, don'tcha bitch," he growls and starts stalking towards you. "Wanna act like a fuckin' man?! Fine with me, I'll treat yah like one—" he suddenly advances on you much quicker than you anticipated, so when he lunges at you, you instinctively jab the heel of your hand into his nose, cutting off his tirade. Danvers erupts from the stinging pain and lashes his long arms out to strike blindly at you, and your pivoting gait falters when your heels get caught in the edges of the pavers.

Equalizing your center of gravity, you haul your tote off your shoulder and use your momentum to swing it around to hit the tall man across the face so you can pivot and start running towards the side street sidewalk that's maybe half a football field away. But in your haste, your heel catches on an ajar paver and sends you tumbling. You shout out when you land on your knee and skid across the walkway just as you start to turn and see Danvers already advancing on you.

"You fucking bitch!" he snarls at you and grabs your arm as you scramble to get up and swing away from him, but his fingers dig into the meat of your arm – even through all your layers – and twists painfully as you become feral now and kick out your Italian heel to jam into his foot before you spear another kick into his shin.

Danvers howls at the blows and tosses you down to sprawl sideways onto the walkway with a hard thud that knocks the air out of you.

Then, as you anticipate his next blow, time slows and speeds up all at once. You whirl around and get ready to gouge his eyes out if he tries to grab you again, when you're shocked to see Danvers' head whip back by a brutal crack to his jaw from a blur of movement that is now pounding punches into the disgruntled drunk man's face before doubling him over with a punch to the ribs.

In the fight or flight, your hearing muffled to the deafening sound of your own pulse racing in your ears, so only as your adrenaline spikes again from the pain in your side do you finally hear the roared litany emanating from the blur thrashing your attacker.

"—I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" shatters rancorously over your now heightened hearing, and you scramble onto your feet to watch in horror as Javier beats Danvers and bellows ferociously with every blow.

Javi is blind with fury and thundering threats at the man that's quickly becoming a beaten pulp as he holds him by his gored collar and bashes his fist into his face. When Danvers tries to swing a desperate punch, Javi blocks it and smashes another hook into his body that connects with the burly man's kidney. The body blow instantly ragdolls him to the ground, but Javi keeps hitting him and balefully screaming at him.

Panic arrests you for what feels like an eternity but is really seconds of time. Then, you're snapping forward and pulling on Javier to stop, hands digging into his torso to physically haul him away and back. The look in his eyes is blazing fury, features contorted in savage rage, fists wound up to pummel more blows when you literally brace your body against his and grapple him back.

You don't realize you're screaming at him to stop until he jolts and recoils back, wild eyes widening as he stares down at you and sees how you're looking at him.

In the distance, you hear a commotion coming from the nearby checkpoint, and the chill that fills you is enough to rein in your terror and make you focus.

"Go. Now," you hiss at him in Spanish and start shoving with all your might to push him backwards. Your tote is discarded on the ground, but your purse is hanging at your hip as you physically push Javier back down to the side street like he's a stalled car you need to get moved before it's too late. "You have to go before they come," you tell him in an eerily calm voice and grab his face so he focuses on you. "I beg you, go!" you hiss and when Javi's frantic gaze tells you he doesn't want to leave you, you dig your apartment keys out of your purse and shove them into his hand. "Wait there for me. Go…"

Javier is dangerously charged with roiling energy, but your fierce look and calm-but-firm voice shatter through, and the next thing he knows, he feels like he's on autopilot as the manic adrenaline starts to crash in him. It's an out-of-body experience, and he doesn't recognize what he's done until you tell him to wait for you – to go, and he detachedly lets you shove him to the side of his jeep.

He doesn't register driving away until he's mechanically navigating his jeep to your side of town.

And you don't realize how badly this could've been until the MPs are interviewing you.

They'd radioed in backup and immediately rushed over when a passerby had flagged them and reported seeing a man follow a woman who'd just exited the embassy before he'd heard your scream. The police arrive and take your statement while Danvers gets put on the stretcher and wheeled into the back of the ambulance. From all the blood, gashes and swelling, it looks like his face was rearranged, and the chill of it only helps you remain calm as you explain to the authorities what transpired.

You purposely leave out who came to your defense in the attack.

When they press you on a description, you look over at the MP sergeant who'd reported onto the scene and was assigned to process you and take you back to the embassy if the civilian police tried to hold you. Your narrowed gaze holds a sway, and right now? With you hobbling up on scuffed and battered heels, stockings running and torn at your knees that are gashed and bleeding, and nursing your side, he hears you loud and clear.

He ushers you into the military jeep and offers to take you to the hospital. You refuse and ask to have a pass of the medical kit you know they keep in their guardhouse. You're just finishing taping up the knee that won't stop bleeding when Lou, of all people, stalks into the back room and sees you all tousled and looking like you had a fight with pavement and lost.

"—Heard it over the CB radio on the way home. What the fuck happened, missy?" he asks and pulls up a chair, looking like a man uncomfortable with coddling women.

You snicker and go back to taping the gauze square to your knee. "Fucking Danvers decided to file an unofficial complaint direct with me once I left embassy grounds," you tell him acerbically. "Seems he didn't take kindly to the two-week suspension and wanted to take it out on me—"

"That motherfucking sonuvabitch is finished. I'll personally see to it they ship his ass back home and bury him in brimstone," the colonel and head of Mil Group rails severely. "The Good Samaritan who jumped in did a fuckin' number on the bastard. Good for him. Only wish the lot of us had been there. They'd be putting him in a body bag right now."

You laugh, despite how macabre that is, and despite how awful you feel and roiling with despair you are. Luckily, you've had tons of practice swallowing that down and hiding it from ever flickering across your expression.

Lou arranges for the same MP sergeant to drive you home, and you thank him kindly for his help, declining his offer to walk you up to your door. Your heels are completely fucked, so you carry them in one hand while you cross the courtyard and labor up the steps. Your tote took a beating too, so you only have one strap still attached that you can hold onto as you adjust it to your shoulder and walk cautiously, trying to hide your pain as you get to the door. Javier opens it as soon as he hears the padding of your feet, and he looks like he's going to go into a rage all over again.

"I'm fine," you assure and let him usher you in before he locks the deadbolt and takes all your burdens off of you. The tote and shoes are dropped to the side, purse gingerly uncrossed from your torso, dirty peacoat eased off, and Javi whisks you up in his arms to carry you to bed. As you go, you notice the open whiskey bottle on the kitchen island and the bloodied paper towels. "Are you ok?" you murmur, hesitating in his arms when he goes to put you down onto the soft surface of the bed.

He notices you're favoring your right side, and adjusts to place you gently to your bed before he kneels beside you to survey your appearance. His eyes are dark and etched with simmering fury while the rest of his features are chiseled. He looks harsh and drawn as he reins in his dizzying wrath at seeing you banged up and hurt, but asking him if he's ok.

Javier had had the whole drive and panic-stricken wait in your apartment to understand the ramifications of what happened and stew about the what if's – to think about how differently that could've ended had he not been picking you up. Had you left early, or had he been five minute earlier, would any of that have happened?

What if he'd gotten there late.

The bone-chilling horror welled in his gut and boiled over the more he sat and thought about it. Then, he replayed how your mystifying calm in the chaotic moment anchored him down from the tempestuous panic. His trained mind reconstructed every single moment, rewinding them over and over. Pulling up to the curb, sitting with the engine off and having a smoke when he heard your shout from the distance. The terror that clawed up his chest as he'd stormed out of his jeep and ran over. Seeing Danvers advancing on you while you grappled to sit up on the ground.

Then, he sees red. Just flashes of his fists smashing into skin, muscle and bone, the sick crunch of cartilage giving way under his knuckles, the way he felt seeing you on the ground – how it kept driving his fists down and into his target.

The awed, quivering look in your eyes when you stared up at him.

His analytical mind told him to snap back from the impulse and rage – to see what he really needed to focus on.

She tactically got you out of there in case Danvers was conscious and could file a report. She got you out of there so she could lie for you. She was deadly calm and needed to snap you back from the precipice. Your entire career could be in the gutter right now—

She's hurt because of you.

That thought was from the other part of his mind that seethed loathingly. Javier had snapped away from it, desperate to not fall into the wallowing anguish of such a dark consideration.

Realizing that if Danvers did report him, they'd go to his place looking for him, Javier had called Steve.

"—What?! What're you talkin' about? Why—who would come looking for you here?" his partner had queried gruffly, sounding surly and probably a bit drunk.

"I can't tell you. Just cover for me if they do," Javier asks, voice raw and hoarse after all the screaming he did while he'd lost his mind, and when Steve agrees, he grouses, "I'll stop by and fill you in when I can."

He'd drank while he waited, trying to fight the shaking of his hands as he came down from the adrenaline, and it wasn't until he'd put the glass down and flexed his hands that he felt the pain or even noticed his battered knuckles.

It's what you're reaching for now – the hand he's resting on your thigh as he checks you over. The pain lances across his hand from you inspecting his knuckles, but he doesn't show any discomfort. "Let me clean these—" you start to fuss and go to stand, but your body and Javi protest, so you huff and let him settle you back onto the propped up pillows. "C'mon, I can't lay like this all dirty. Let me peel out of this stuff."

"No, let me do it," he grunts tersely, and you notice how raspy and low his voice is.

He gently hooks his fingers to pry the zipper of your torn skirt down so he can shimmy it off of you. You hiss despite yourself, so Javi frowns and works a little more delicately. Once your ruined stockings are off your legs, he helps you sit up to ease out of your blouse. His eyes narrow on the finger-sized bruises on your upper arm and they widen in dismay at the discolored welt forming along your right side over the curve of your ribs. Javier gently brushes his fingers over it and you wince, but don't fidget, and it incenses him all over again.

Irate, Javi seethes gutturally, "…I'm going to kill him. I swear to God, I am going to end that motherfucker—"

You laboriously pivot to grab him and pull him into your unflinching embrace. "Please…just stay with me, Javi. It's over," you murmur against his shoulder and sigh when you feel him exhale his fury and lean into you. "Are you ok?" you ask again, and caress the back of his head lovingly. "It's fine if you're not—"

"Fucking hell," he hisses angrily and adjusts to sit on his haunches to stare at you. "Are you ok?" he emphasizes as he cups your face tenderly. His eyes are haunted, his expression conflicted, and you can feel the emotions battering his insides with just as much force as the brutal thrashing he dealt out earlier.

"Javi, I'm ok," you assure and smile coyly. "I might look like a fucking wreck that got steamrolled, but I'm fine," you snicker and pull him close so you can press your forehead to his. A wily, lopsided smirk pulls across your lips as you lilt, "How bad do I look, on a scale of 1 to 10…?"

Javier scoffs. "Querida, I'm not in the mood," he sorely grumbles and stands so he can help you take your bra off after you roll your eyes and go to reach behind yourself. He's about to fan his fingers over the welt again to make sure you don't have a cracked rib, when your phone rings. You start to try and sit up, so he reprimands, "No, stay right there. Just ignore it—"

"Babe, please just get it for me then? The handset is hung up in the hall," you cajole, and Javi relents with an impatient grunt. He returns with the ringing cordless phone, handing it to you and sitting on the side of the bed next to you while you answer it.

"—Holy shit! Are you alright?! Samson just got off with Lou. Are you ok? Do you need to go to the hospital?! I can take you—!" Ellis is exclaiming in a flurry, and you grit your teeth as he starts getting worked up. "I'm going to get a bat, and I'm gonna break that bastard's kneecaps!"

Javi stares at you as you listen to your friend rail like a hysterical idiot while you lay into the pillows with your hair all crazy, in just your panties. It isn't until you try to stifle a laugh at something Ellis says that he is just at a loss. After all, Javi knows people deal with trauma very differently. He's seen it plenty of different ways in his line of work – how people fall apart, boil over, or rail irrationally. But…you're detached nonchalance has him bemused – reeling and unsure how you are able to keep it together. Do you not realize how serious and deadly the incident could've been? Do you not care? Or have you dealt with something so much worse, that you can treat this as a trifle?

"—No, I am banged up, but fine. You do not need to come over. I just want to shower and relax…maybe with an icepack and some ibuprofen," you pause and listen to him demand to know that you're really ok. "I promise I'm ok, now calm down, stop hogging Luke's phone, and just go home. Alright, goodnight."

You end the call and set the cordless phone aside with a tired sigh. Reaching your hand to Javi's shoulder, you give it a playful squeeze. "Not to be a chore but…could you help me? I really want a hot shower right now," you murmur softly, and Javi's brooding look flickers down at your topless form. "And if you don't mind, I could use the company," you flirt and bat your lashes at him.

His dour expression relents and he suppresses his smile, so you hold out your arms as if to say, 'I'm ready to be carried.' Snickering, he helps you up from the bed and takes you to the bathroom. It isn't until you're both under the hot, soothing cascading water that you dissolve tiredly into him, arms wrapping heavily around his torso while he holds you up in his steel embrace. Javier is solid, warm, and flexing muscle against your form, and you are grateful for it as he rubs his hands over your back and gingerly helps you wash the dirt off your body. You ignore the stinging at your knees and the dull throb in your side, able to compartmentalize the pain while Javi holds you against him and murmurs terse little things to you that make you buzz alluringly.

"No more meeting on that street. I'll pick you up in the underground garage from now on. Not letting you go anywhere alone. Either I'm with you, or someone you trust escorts you, you hear me?" he rumbles tensely while he soothingly caresses your back, and you sigh and nod to appease him.

After he's shepherded you back to your room, Javier sits you on the bed in your towel so he can help you dry your hair, and when you shiver, he settles you into the bed, retrieving a fluffy blanket from your closet to drape it lightly over your nude form before he turns to go get you something to take for the inflammation and pain. "Bring my medicine tote too?" you lilt and give him a serene, tentative look he has no chance of dismissing.

The towel is hanging snug around his waist as he goes and comes back with the items, as well as a cool glass of water. You take the ibuprofen and chug the water down before shifting to sit up comfortably so you can slink up to drape against his back as he moodily sits at the side of the bed. You wrap your arm around his midriff and give him a hug. Javier's back relaxes as he huffs and dips his head.

"Tell me what you're thinking, mi amor."

He lets out a pent-up exhale and turns to face you. His expression is guarded, but the hurt and anger are plainly carving into his dark, soulful eyes. "If I'd been five fucking minutes later…" he grounds out before diverting his gaze angrily from yours. You stay quiet, giving him time to work out what he's feeling. It's a minute or so later when he rumbles darkly, "If I'd lost you like that, I…I would've…" he can't bring himself to say it, so he instead murmurs, "If I can't even protect you from a motherfucker like that, how can I keep you safe—I…I don't know how…I don't deserve you."

Your heart hurts for the first time after the horrible incident, and tears well in your eyes, unbidden. "Yes you do," you insist and squeeze his forearm. "Dammit, Javi…look at me," you tensely whisper, and he turns to face you. His deep brown eyes are haunted as he keeps replaying the horror in his mind, only now it's compounded by what could've been. "I am fine, because of you," you emphatically press and grip his chin to force him not to look away. Your eyes blaze with conviction as you bore them into his and suddenly declare, "I love you, but if you don't snap out of this post-brawl sulk, I'm going to beat you up."

The way his expression cracks into a startled scoff makes you beam with relief, and you tug him down to meet your lips. He realizes he hasn't kissed you at all, and suddenly feels like he's been starving for your lips – for the soft grace of your embrace as you pull him close and cling to him lovingly.

You pacify him with your soft murmurs of, 'I love you, I know that was terrible, I'm sorry, You protected me, Please stay with me tonight?' as you kiss and cuddle into his warm, broad chest, and Javier melts under the heat that wells in his heart at having you in his arms. He ends up just holding you for a while, and you feel safe, completely at ease, and when he nuzzles you before he goes to instinctively caress the backs of his knuckles along your cheek and winces, you pull back and frown. You take his hand and pin him in place with your stern gaze, and he relents to your fussing this time.

He sits still and lets you clean his hands, treating each gash over his knuckles carefully and tending to the stinging pain by rubbing a salve that will help them heal up before you dutifully wrap them with bandages you tape snug and secure. When all the lights are off and you're resting against him on your left side so he can hold the icepack to your ribs for you, you tell him what happened succinctly, keeping your tone calm while he listens and tenses at certain details. Once you've taken a cleansing breath, you finally drop your guard completely and tell him something you'd resolved not to say out loud.

"Don't be mad, but…I wasn't scared at all. I was angry, but when he threw me down? I was resigned – prepared to go down fighting, but there was a split second…just a passing thought," you pause your murmur to snicker self-deprecatingly at yourself. "I just…I wished I'd seen you one last time, if that was going to be it—"

Javier has gone so tense against you, so you demurely keep your eyes cast down, afraid to see how upset the admittance has made him.

He tips your face up, and you see his eyes are molten and filled with a resolute promise, which takes you aback, before he tells you, "If I see him again…I'm going to kill him."

You stare at him, and Javi's heated look doesn't waver, so you cup his cheek and pull him to meet your lips so you can press your plush flesh covetously – worshipfully against his. Even though his mouth and touch are soft, you feel his irascible mood on a slow burn within him, so you pull back and murmur tersely, "If you do that and go to a Colombian prison before muthafucking Escobar? I will kill you, Javier."

Your wily glare is just too much for him to resists, and his anger dissolves into ridiculous chuckles as you swat him and plant merciless kisses into his neck, delighting in how thick and rich his raspy baritone laugh is after going so long without it and after such a truculent night.

At some point, after he's cuddled you and kept you cool and snug, you pass out. You're knocked out cold once the exhaustion weighed you down into a deep slumber. Javier manages to sleep only after his own mind succumbed to the post-fight lethargy that seized into his muscles like a heavy shroud.

The following morning, you are still fast asleep. You actually sleep almost into the early afternoon when the sound of a key sliding into the front door's lock stirs you awake. Drowsily, you shift under the cozy blanket and reach for Javier, but your side protests sharply from the movement. You hiss and mumble, "Javi?"

"I'm here, baby," he calls out, but not from being in bed next to you. You start to startle into keener awareness just as he lopes into the room. He's fully dressed – looking like he'd just come back from being out, and when he sits at the side of the bed and smiles down at you, it takes your energy-depleted body effort to detect the fantastic smell of coffee before your bleary gaze registers the cup of coffee he's holding out for you. "Figured you'd need this," he rumbles charmingly and helps you sit up so you can take the paper cup once he's taken the lid off for you.

You breathe in the comforting aroma before smiling serenely at him. Javi pets your mussed hair back for you, smirking at how cute you look wrapped up in the blanket and nothing else as you sip the brew with a dreamy look in your eyes. "Mmm…" you hum delightedly and savor the bold flavor in your parched mouth. "…Where'd you go so early?"

"It's close to noon, cariño," he teases and smirks when you gape at him. "I went to my place…talked to Steve. Good news is, no one came by looking for me, so I guess I'll find out on Monday where things stand if I go through security and get arrested," he deadpans the acerbic joke, which has you pouting and setting the rest of your coffee aside. "How do you feel today?" Javi muses as you sit up to stretch.

Your entire body is recoiling from the effort. "Hmph…I feel like I face planted on pavers," you drawl and idly rub your side when it aches dully from your movements. "I could really use a nice, long soak in a hot bath," you muse and playfully fiddle with his shirt's collar when he pivots to lean close and nuzzle a kiss to your temple before grunting wryly.

"I'll get it ready for you, but first, you have to eat," he muses and pecks your lips before going to the kitchen to bring the to-go breakfast containers he picked up along with the coffees.

Having him sexily lounge next to you after he hands over yours and sets his open while he kicks his boots off and exhales in relaxed comfort next to you? The way his mustachioed upper lip quirks smugly at you when you start devouring your food while he picks at his? How tight his salmon-toned button shirt gets when he straightens his shoulders back against the headboard? It has you thinking raunchy filth.

Now, you're aching between your legs for him. Damn him and his damn sexy ass…

He's a man of his word, and draws a divine bath for you, so when you settle into the hot water with a entrancing sigh, Javi smirks and watches you lounge back. The slopes of your neck are bare thanks to your hair being swept up in a flirty twist, and the water looks oh-so-inviting to him as you stretch your feet to slink up against the tub. "Come join me?" you suggest sultrily, adding, "I know I probably look very un-sexy right now—"

He snorts and starts unbuttoning his shirt while he derisively shakes his head. "That's impossible. And while I normally wouldn't encourage such nonsense, I'll take pity on you and slip in, but you gotta promise to be good and not do anything fresh."

You exclaim a comical scoff. "Mira quien habla," is your snarky huff as he tosses his shirt down on the vanity and strips out of his jeans, goading smirk becoming a grin as you sneer, "As if I'd be the fresh one, but sure, fine, I promise to keep myself under control against your sexy guapito wiles, you damn tease."

Cheekily, you make room for him so he can slide his broad, naked frame behind you in the tub before you both maneuver to get comfy in the soothing warm water. The knuckles of both hands still have the bandages, so he sets them along the rim of the tub while you lay your back against his chest.

"…This does feel real nice," he mutters mildly after a relaxing beat. His back was killing him, hands were sore and his joints ached, but he would never tell you. At least the hot water was soothing the tension from his muscles – and having you warm in his arms was a wonderful bonus. "I don't think I've taken a bath since I was a little kid."

"Pobrecito, you've been missing out," you chuckle wryly and skim your hands down his thighs on either side of yours, and he sucks a sharp charged breath that puffs his chest out at the contact. "Although it's a snug fit, and we probably look real goofy in this tub together—"

"You cannot help yourself," he hisses provocatively in your ear when you keep drawing circles with your fingers over his thighs beneath the warm water.

The sensual thrill sends heat into your tummy and flutters lower when you feel his hand dip beneath the water to skate along your sternum, just beneath your breasts as you exhale, "I'm not doing anything fresh, though."

"Yeah fucking right," he grouses and trails nippy, teasing kisses from the back of your ear down the slope of your nape. "Pórtate bien, atrevida."

His voice dipping into that octave has your pussy clenching around nothing, and you stifle your excited stutter of breath with a scoff.

You both lounge in the warm water until it starts to cool, and once you're in your slinky, silky robe while Javi struts back into the bedroom with two drinks and in his delicious dark blue boxer-briefs, you are content in lounging merrily in bed with him while you ice your side down and he lets you redo his bandaged knuckles with tender care. It isn't until after your phone rings with your boss on the line checking in to make sure you're ok, offering for you to take Monday off – which you politely decline – that you remember the whole reason Javier had gone to pick you up last night was because he had something he wanted to tell you.

Ending the call, you gingerly pivot back down to sidle against him as he nurses his drink and finishes the cigarette he lit while you were on the phone. "So with all the lunacy from last night, I completely forgot to ask what you needed to tell me?" you preface congenially and sip your rum and coke.

Stubbing out his cigarette and sobering, Javi sits up against the headboard so he can face you better, before he hesitates, as if reconsidering. "…It can wait, querida—"

You pout. "Javier, it was important enough that you were being squirrelly on the phone—"

"I wouldn't call being cautious being 'squirrelly,'" he grumbles and sets his empty glass aside to cross his arms. You level him with a haughtily raised brow, so he exhales and relents. "Those photos I showed you…the ones from La Catedral?" he reminds you, and when you nod, he mutters, "Well, I know you know this already but…you never saw them. The first time you ever saw them would be when they're published in El Espectador…in case it was ever to come up."

You stare at him, understanding how majorly dangerous what he's telling you is in the political and diplomatic environment the embassy is currently locked in with the local government. "Not to be contrary but…why would that warrant you needing to tell me about it?" you query and set your drink and the icepack aside so you can sit up and soberly gaze at him – watching how his shoulders tense and his expression mutes to the flinty regard, the one when he's ruminating about something.

"…I don't know what kind of blowback could come when it hits the public, and while we were discreet, the Colombians are gonna suspect DEA leaked it…which we did, but still," he muses acerbically before huffing and caressing his fingers through your hair so he can anchor his touch to your nape and pull you close. Brushing a kiss to your cheek, he murmurs, "It could lead to La Catedral being taken out of commission, and if that happens, we're going after that motherfucker for real. I—things could get dangerous, and I'll have to be cautious, maybe even lay low..."

You frown and flatten your lips worryingly before staring at him with a wary look. "Why are you so unnerved about talking on phones now?"

He brushes his fingers self-consciously along his brow before flicking them down the ridge of his nose as he deliberates on whether to tell you – how much detail to divulge. When you patiently wait and stare earnestly at him, he decides it's only fair you know. "An informant…he said something that gave me the impression that our communications could be compromised—that there are plants who intercept and listen in to our calls just like we pick up conversations from satellite phone calls in the surveillance zones. I don't know for sure…but it would partially explain why the fuckers have been one step ahead every single time," he tells you, and explains plainly, "That's why I'm going to be more careful. And…we have to keep our conversations vague from now on."

Realizing that's why he avoided saying any endearments to you over the phone, you muse in a flat monotone, "So, what you're saying is, that a narco-affiliate possibly heard me having phone sex with you?"

Javier's eyes flare with stunned humor before the mirth dances over his features from the infectious laugh he stifles by slapping his hand over his mouth. "I-I didn't even think of that," he snickers and scoffs before shaking his head while you laugh and admonishingly jostle his shoulder. "Anything is fucking possible," he scathes teasingly, and you bite your lip worriedly while he presses his lips together humorously and winks.

"Jesus, so…keep calls vague and broad. Got it," you sigh and sheepishly rub your forehead. "Wait…why would anyone listen to our calls anyway?"

Javi's mirth dries up at that. Soberly, he scoots you closer to him so he can look at you seriously. "How they work—getting people on the take, or making people back off? It's all about leverage. They get dirt on officials, cops—you name it. They also threaten the people closest to their targets…indirectly or directly. I'm not saying that's what's happening," he begins to assure when you go to ask, and when you're assuaged, he continues, "But…I don't want to underestimate 'em." He wants to say, 'I don't want to open us up to anything close to that,' but he thinks that will rile you, so he only thinks it.

You hear him loud and clear, though. His concern giving you serious pause, but also strikes a chord in you.

Surprising him by scampering delicately off the bed and going as hurriedly as you can muster down the hall, he hears you open a drawer in the kitchen before you return with something in your hand. Crawling back up to him, you ease off of your bruised and scraped knees to lie on your left side before handing him a key on a metal loop.

"Here," you say simply and reach for your drink. Sipping from the glass, you stare at him over the rim while he inspects the offering before giving you a disarmed look. "We spend most of our calls planning when we'll rendezvous, or when you'll come over, so, makes sense to give you a key so you can let yourself in," you remark smoothly and shrug before finishing your drink.

Javier can't rationalize why a simple silver key stokes molten yearning in his chest, and after you just smile dazzlingly at him, he feels overawed – brimming with a tangle of incandescent feelings he can't begin to make order of, so when you're turning back from setting your glass aside, he leans over and kisses you. You hum and curl against him, melting into him as he encircles you tenderly and embraces you close.

You get lost in the feel of him, and Javier decides then that his devotion pales in comparison to your loving grace. He devotes himself to filling that void he perceives with unabashed, unselfish feeling until you radiate with it.

Javi fills you up with love, and you find rapture from his whispered praise and murmured worship until he's comforted you into a reveling, peaceful repose, held protectively in his arms. Your sleepy kisses anchor him to unwind and relax against you, and he doesn't fight how heavy his eyes become as he breathes in your soft scent and becomes soothed into stillness. You both settle down into each other and let the buzz of the alcohol and the bone-deep exhaustion lull you into a needed slumber, content and calm as your bodies relish the needed rest.

It'll be one of the few moments of true happiness you can identify when thrown into the turmoil of lonesomeness that awaits you both. But, for now, in each other's embrace, you are at peace, and whole – filled with each other's exceptional grace.

 ________________

Read Chapter 14: Lovers

Spanish-English Glossary:

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Mi amor = My love

Bravita = Tough girl; feisty girl

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady

Dámelo, Javi = Give it to me, Javi

Pinche zorra = fucking slut

Mira, hijueputa malparido = Look here you motherfucking sonuvabitch

Y voy a acabar contigo = And I'll end you

Cariño = darling/sweetheart

Mira que rico = Look how yummy/delicious

Puto beyako = shameless fucking guy

Tentadora = Temptress

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Descarado = Shameless cad/scoundrel

Pinche atrevida = Fucking daring bitch

Tú eres el puto atrevido = You're the shameless fucking daring one

Malcriada/malcriado = brat/spoiled

Guapito = affectionate way of calling a man handsome (in the diminutive term)

Señorita = Little lady; little miss

Mentiroso = Liar (male)

Galán = Handsome man

Gracioso = Funny guy

Chavón = a man that's pestering you

Mira quien habla = Look who's talking

Pobrecito = Poor thing (male)

Pórtate bien = Behave

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful.

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[emilyblame]

overall impression: obviously a masterpiece, didn't expect anything less from Set It Off tbh. i mean, not to wave off their talent, but we all know they’re underappreciated as fuck and they deserve more recognition because they’re so fucking good.

before i jump into the song by song i wanna say that i love how this is the minimalistic era. song-wise. like, i feel like as far as sound goes, they really left a lot of silent spaces so that the instruments could breathe throughout the whole song, you know what i mean?

another thing that i really love (not just about this album but about SIO in general) is that the verses are just as catchy as the choruses. like, typically, in songs you have that one hook that you can't stop singing (which is usually either the pre-chorus or the chorus.) and i don't know if Cody sets out to write vocal melodies like this, or it just happens, but it feels like the verses are just as out to get your attention as the choruses are. and i find myself humming verses just as much as choruses.

i love that i don't feel any particular pull towards either the first half of the album or the second. like, it feels pretty consistent throughout. love that for the boys.

favorite song (so far— after only 3 listens): Why Not Me. close call Loose Cannon. closer call Playing With Bad Luck. do not judge me. i can't choose.

Skeleton

i've said this before but: the last chorus goes so hard! and that bass (beware, i'm gonna say this a lot). please. also, Cody’s vocals. also also the drummsssssss… i (still) need a playthrough of this.

Projector

this bridge is my favorite thing in the entire universe. Cody's vocals in this song are out of the chart. also the guitar riffs. hi Zach, i see you.

Cut Off

not one of my favorites. but i do really like the bridge, how they overlapped it with the chorus and that build-up is awesome. also, love the whistling.

Loose Cannon

this is a good example of what i was saying earlier about the verses being just as catchy as the choruses/pre-choruses. also the good use of silence. that bridge boi. please. the belt panned left. YES. also the ending guitar riff— i’m looking at you, Zach —, very Santana (if you know you know i’m not talking about Glee btw.) Cody’s manic laugh too.

Why Do I

lyrics are sad af, but this song sounds so Summer at the beach i can't help but dance. lowkey kinda hate the try-ah-ah-ay (but that’s a personal thing.) that acapella bit with the clapping. yes. love Cody belting himself out of the song.

As Good As It Gets

guys... the bass in this song. also, that chorus did not go as expected. i mean, it never goes as expected because i didn't write it so but it feels like the song does a 180º turn there, you know what i mean? in the best of ways, obviously. i love how it’s mostly bass and drums (go Maxx!)

Who's In Control?

when it first came out, this was my least favorite of the three. but bitch this pre-chorus is so good. also the strings. also the goddamned brass section in the bridge. Cody, thank you so much. also x2, harmonies. i love love love that they use the pre-chorus as an ending to the bridge the same way they do in Projector.

Taste Of The Good Life

again with the strings. there are so many layers of harmonies. i mean, there always are, but in this particular song i feel like they're more spread out, so it's more noticeable. or maybe it's just me idk. the strings at the end!!!

Why Not Me

i said this before about N.M.E., and coming from me is the highest of praises, trust me: this song sounds like it could be a Backstreet Boys song ('Black & Blue' era.) and let me tell you: i fucking LOVE that. i mean, obviously not the lyrics, i’m talking about the music and the vocal melodies. like, if they ever decide to call it quits with Set It Off, Cody can write songs for boy bands and it’s gonna be amazing, just saying. and i’m living for the abrupt ending.

Dangerous

this song is goooood. i love that when Cody sings My hand out the window just riding the wave / My cares in the mirror just fading away, it literally feels like being in a car, warm sun on your skin, wind in your hair, hand out the window. and i fucking love that. i love that. also love the kiss, that was a nice touch. and i’m living for the abrupt ending, part 2.

Cordial

one word: theatrical. this song screams Cinematics so loud. but like, with the guidance of Midnight as an older sibling. like, it’s angry but controlled. like, you having a meltdown in the middle of work but having to keep a straight face because you can’t just lose your shit in front of everyone.

The Magic 8

Cody and his fucking harmonies. i mean, i shouldn't be surprise at this point, but... he's such a fucking good singer. creepy ending. creepy all of it, actually. i'm into it tho.

Playing With Bad Luck

again with the damn bass. also the guitars on the chorus. hi Zach. the drum fills too. i see you too, Maxx. that whole section from when in the bridge they bring back the pre-chorus on top, and then how it hits the chorus. the harmonies at the end... !!!

Peekaboo

i found the 'peekaboo's kinda adorable. and the whispered Hide, you can hide / You can run, but you can't hide... chills. the acapella 'nah's are everything.

Catch A Break

i love how the guitar riff complements the drums in the verses. clapping. love that.

Better Than This

such a sweet song to end the album with. i was sorta expecting the first chorus to explode but i'm glad they held back. again, strings, weakness. please stop. but not really. don't.

this has nothing to do with the album but— i’m lowkey… i would't say disappointed, exactly, but i feel like it’s a pity they didn’t use the website (welcome2elsewhere) more. i feel like they did the big reveal with Skeleton, which was fun. then the whole thing changed with Projector’s release which was pretty cool too. but then it just stuck like that. i mean, we got the artwork for Who’s In Control? later on but it pretty much stayed the same. like, they could’ve explained more of the lore. i’m not talking twenty one pilots Trench era level because that was insane. but i feel like we still don’t know anything about the whole story around 'Elsewhere'. maybe it’s just me but i thought that by the time the album was released, most things in the music videos would make sense, but i feel like they still don’t? which is not a bad thing necessarily, i’m just pointing it out.

[anothersievefistedfind]

Photo © William Bradley

Fugazi, National Guard Armory, Columbia, SC USA 2/7/1993 (FLS #0494)

(Words below submitted by Antti Väärälä)

Fugazi in Columbia, South Carolina to test-drive new tracks and just to have good old fun. This is the band's third visit to the city, and they would return once more on the tumultuous tour of 1996. This show takes place at National Guard Armory of Columbia, which is located adjacent to South Carolina University in the city. The armory was established in 1905, so this is another historic locale for the band to tick off the list. Closed from official use in 1964 as a new, modern facility took over the duties, the armory remained a place to host events.

Ian opens the evening with a long disclosure about the band's day. The venue had a few surprises for them upon arrival, and they were forced to improvise some security measures. As in flipped tables forming a makeshift barricade. Both Ian and Guy speak up in a serious tone to make the audience understand the unstable situation. Let's see how the events unfold.

The recording sounds quite good, and its best feature is how well it emphasizes the band's power and the feel of the room. No element drowns out and the mix balance is okay. Joe's bass has a nice, dirty clang and ring to it. Brendan's snare cuts through, and the interplay between the kick drum and bass is prominent. At first the overall sound feels muddy and a tad distant. This is possibly because of the room's character, not being built for rock concerts. In the end the sound turns out quite pleasing as the recording draws you in with its energy.

First part of the show finds the band taking pauses between songs to warn the crowd about the awkward barricade. The performances are good, but feel separated and a bit careful occasionally. The security issue must have been a major disruption at first. Still, we get a magnificent rendition of Joe #1 as the opener, and an atmospheric flow to Exit Only. The bass rumbles in a beautiful way and both guitars hit some nice variations.

Stacks is an interesting listen not only because of the song's fantastic angularity, and how it always sounds so inspired. This time Joe steps in to do the backing vocal for the chorus. Guy mentions earlier that he has "a little voice" so Joe gives him a breather. Very convincing performance by him and the whole group.

Burning is a great addition to this entry's tracklist. The atmosphere is sparkling, and Guy performs his vocals with a peculiar feeling. It seems he's under the weather, but it gives his voice an interesting edge and he goes all out regardless. Burning was a bit of a rarity on the winter 93 tour with only four performances, so it's always a delight.

The whole mid-set row of oldies is a show highlight, as the energy is high and atmosphere through the roof. Guy's nasty grit in his voice makes Margin Walker rock that much harder. And check out the screaming singalong from a thrilled patron on Bad Mouth. Exhilarating!

The final trio of tunes is a splendid bunch of anthems. Requests for Long Division can be heard during the show and the song gets an ecstatic response when Ian finally starts the riff. Guy then leads a stirring Rend It to close the show. He may have some troubles this evening, but it doesn't affect the powerful performance at all.

The show pretty much flies by, clocking in just over an hour. There's a hard curfew approaching and the band hits a "fucking bullmarch" as Guy puts it. Consequently the banter is scarce but good-humoured throughout. The audience is ardent, and rather cooperative about the barricade situation, at least after a few grave warnings. Even the crowd surfing seems to keep at bay. And once the sound draws the listener in, this turns into a very interesting and an easily recommendable entry. 

The set list:

1. Intro 2. Joe #1 3. Exit Only 4. Greed 5. Interlude 1 6. Blueprint 7. Interlude 2 8. Stacks 9. Public Witness Program 10. Interlude 3 11. Instrument 12. Sieve-Fisted Find 13. Reclamation 14. Interlude 4 15. Smallpox Champion 16. Returning the Screw 17. Burning  18. Interlude 5 19. Waiting Room 20. Margin Walker 21. Bad Mouth 22. Interlude 6 23. Turnover 24. Long Division 25. Rend It 26. Outro