Fontaines D.C. - In The Modern World
I feel alive
In the city
That you like
And wait for the day
To go dreaming
Right by
Seems so hard not to be free
When you walk
Right beside me
In the modern world (What?)
In the modern world
I don't feel anything
In the modern world
And I don't feel bad, Charlene
Kissing on the corner (Yeah?)
Wait for just a minute (What?)
Come away with me and Sal
I promise you'll be in it
I don't feel bad
I feel alive
In the city
You despise
Wait for the day
When you come
Riding on by
Seems so hard just to be
If it matters
You complete me
Yeah
In the modern world (What?)
In the modern world
I don't feel anything
In the modern world
And I don't feel bad, Charlene
Kissing on the corner (Yeah?)
Wait for just a minute (What?)
Come away with me and Sal
I promise you'll be in it
In the modern world
In the modern world
I don't feel…no, I don't feel
I don't feel bad
As long as I've known
As long as I've known
As long as I've known
There's no feeling to draw
You may be the reason
But I am the law
The law…
As long as I've known
There's no feeling to draw
You may be the reason
But I am the law
The law…
I feel alive
In the city
That you like
In the modern world (What?)
In the modern world
I don't feel anything
In the modern world
And I don't feel bad, Charlene
Kissing on the corner (Yeah?)
Wait for just a minute (What?)
Come away with me and Sal
I promise you'll be in it
So don't feel bad
In the modern world (What?)
In the modern world
I don't feel
No I don't feel
(As long as I've known)
I don't feel bad
(As long as I've known)
Charlene
As long as I've known (Yeah?)
There's no feeling to draw (What?)
You may be the reason
But I am the law
I don't feel bad
Embed
21/08/2024
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# 4,300
Omega Radio for December 17, 2022; #338.
Spread Joy: “Ow” + “Contrition” (II)
Pinch Points: “Reasons to Be Anxious” (Process)
Unschooling: “Shopping On The Left Bank” (orphan track)
Cheekface: “Pledge Drive” (Too Much To Ask)
Bench Press: “More Than That” (A Split Between Friends 7")
Foyer Red: “Pickles” (Zigzag Wombat)
Body Type: “Bouyancy” (Everything Is Dangerous But Nothing’s Surprising)
Class: “Pills On A Dish” (self-titled)
Mind Shrine: “Pocket Change” (Is It You?)
Fake Palms: “Visions” (Lemons)
Dry Cleaning: “Anna Calls From The Attic” + “Gary Ashby” (Stumpwork)
Palm: “Feathers” (Nicks And Grazes)
Emma Ruth Rundle: “Pump Organ Song” (Orpheus Looking Back)
My Idea: “Breathe You” (Cry MFER)
Khruangbin & Leon Bridges: “Chocolate Hills” (Texas Moon)
Fontaines D.C.: “I Love You” (Skinty Fia)
Antonio Sanchez f. Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross: “I Think We’re Past That Now” (Shift: Bad Hombre Vol. II)
Wet Leg: “Material Girl” (orphan track)
Tess Parks: “Brexit At Tiffany’s” (And Those Who Were Seen Dancing)
Camp Cope: “Blue” (Running With The Hurricane)
Girlpool: “Faultline” (Forgiveness)
Sinead O'Brien: “Like Culture” (Time Bend And Break The Bower)
Drug Church: “Someday I Suppose” (Pure Noise Dead Formats compilation)
Preoccupations: “Ricochet” (Arrangements)
Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever: “The Way It Shatters” (Endless Rooms)
Fusilier: “No Words” (Treason)
Caroline Polachek: “Billions” (Desire, I Want to Turn Into You)
Erasers: “Easy To See” (Easy To See)
Kite: “Bocelli” (single)
SRSQ: “Used To Love” (Ever Crashing)
First-of-two Winners of 2022 broadcasts.
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Always Hungry.
MDNI.
PAIRING: Martin x reader
WARNINGS: pwp, mentions of bruises and scrapes (martin) pussy eating. Reader is afab, but there's no gendered pronouns or use of y/n. Hastily written, no beta reader we die like victorian children.
WORD COUNT: 942.
A/N: Hi hello I haven't written a fic in 2 years but Martin made me crawl from my grave please enjoy!
—
Martin's room smelled like incense. Cheap incense, bought online with a holder that made the smoke look like a waterfall. Martin only burned the incense to cover up the smell of sex and sweat, in case the landlord came knocking. It mostly worked, unless you pulled back the blankets on his bed. Then, it was all him, musky and heady and sweet, and you, more or less the same.
He was feeding his skink some blue worms, to match his blue eyes, and the blue candy that poked out from between his lips. He smiled. Martin always smiled when his skink ate, her blue tongue flicking out. She was a silly little creature, lacking a few brain cells, but cute nonetheless. More importantly, she seemed to like you, when you scratched under her chin, or held her little hands with your fingertips. Martin liked it too.
He was shirtless, only in a pair of black jeans that hung low on his hips. You followed the curve of his spine with your eyes from under his hair, down to his waist, and further down, his pants only halfway covering his perfect ass. He was covered in bruises, scrapes, and what you supposed you could call rope burn, from seatbelts digging into his skin. He was beautiful in a nihilistic sort of way, as if Chuck Palahniuk had specialized in paintings instead of novels.
You pushed away from the wall you were leaning on as you watched him, unable to resist touching him anymore. Your cheek brushed over his shoulder, fingers tracing up his sides. He smelled like you, and like sugar. His jaw flexed as his tongue rasped over the candy. Your hands moved up his back, cold fingers on warm skin.
Martin set the skink down in her tank and turned around in your grasp. He regarded you for a long moment, his eyes piercing as he tried to read your mind. You had half a mind to tell him everything you thought. His fingers cupped your chin, and tapped your lips. A wordless request for you to open your mouth. You did, and he brought his lips to yours, pushing the blue raspberry candy into your mouth. You kissed around it, your senses overwhelmed by the artificial flavor. Blue raspberry, what was it, really? Certainly nothing that occurred in nature.
His black hair fell around both of your faces, shielding you from the sunlight that was streaming in through the window. He made an obscene moan, and pushed the rest of the candy into your mouth with his tongue.
"Finish it." He whispered. His blue tongue darted out, and licked your lips. He smiled, a devilish thing that could only mean sin was on his mind. With that knowledge, you took his hands, and walked backwards to the bed. Your thighs hit the mattress, and you fell back. Your tongue pressed the candy to the roof of your mouth so you didn't choke on it.
He descended upon you like an animal, ravenous after starving for days, his hands pushing your shirt up over your ribs. His blue tongue darted out and licked your skin, teasing for only a moment. Then he bit down, nipping at your stomach with that same grin. His large hand squeezed your crotch, concealed by a pair of his sweatpants. His palm pressed against you, slowly massaging you through the fabric.
Martin sucked a mark into your skin, below your belly button. His head dipped down further, sniffing at your crotch, his nose pushing against your clit.
You smiled, and your hands found a home in his hair. It was a little greasy to be sure, but it was soft on your fingers, and he moaned so sweetly when you tugged on his dark locks.
His clever hands tugged your pants down around your ankles, and he didn't give you a moment to breathe. How could he, when you were the best thing he'd ever tasted? Vaguely, he wondered if he could make a candy that tasted like you.
His tongue swiped over your clit, and you shivered with want. Your thighs pressed against his cheeks as his head dipped lower, intent on devouring you.
"Martin," you gasped. "I have to go to work—"
You could feel him smile against you, his breath hot against your cunt as he laughed.
"Should have thought of that before..." He teased, utterly merciless. He pushed two fingers inside of you with ease, still slick from last night, and this morning. In fact, he could still taste himself inside of you.
Your back arched as he found your sweet spot with a practiced ease. Your hands curled in his hair, and the moans he made sent vibrations straight up your spine, like a low bass played from a quality speaker.
He coaxed you to your peak, and you came with a loud cry, your vision going utterly white with previews of heaven. He held you in place as you thrashed, a large hand pressing into your thigh.
When you opened your eyes again, his head was on your stomach, cheek resting against your skin. Martin was smiling, obviously pleased with himself. His nose and chin were shiny with spit and slick, his chest pressed against your core, just enough to keep your body thrumming.
“Call out. Spend the day with me.” He said. His fingers traced over your skin, drawing nonsensical patterns, writing invisible sheet music that only made sense to him.
“Martin…”
“Please.”
It was hard to resist him. Him with his blue lips, and shiny chin. Him with his black, messy hair. You sighed, and admitted defeat.
“Fine.”
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