#the agent intellect

[spilladabalia]

Protomartyr - Devil in his youth / Darren Aronofsky - pi

[rastronomicals]

3:34 PM EST March 3, 2024:

Protomartyr - "The Hermit" From the album The Agent Intellect (October 9, 2015)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: Literary Rock

[innovacancy]

Protomartyr (with Kelley Deal and Fred Armisen) Frantic City Orange Loop Ampitheatre, Atlantic City, NJ 24 September 2022

[nicealbumcovers]

The Agent Intellect by Protomartyr

[bedroom-kingdom]

Before recorded time In some suburban room, see The devil in his youth He grew up pale and healthy With the blessings of his father The devil in his youth His privilege came before him The promise of adoring The devil in his youth But it all changed when he came of age It was nothing like the simulated game The women didn't love him The races all ignored him His proclamations failed So he screamed "Now you bend!" The devil in his youth I will make them feel the way I do I'll corrupt them till they think the way I do The devil in his youth You will feel the way I do You'll hurt the way I do He was easily abused The devil in his youth

Protomartyr The Agent Intellect 2015 U.S.A.

[senorboombastic]

Introducing '60 Minutes or less': A new podcast from Birthday Cake For Breakfast - First episode with Protomartyr!

Words: Andy Hughes I added one more podcast to the giant podcast bin… New year, new us, eh? We’re pleased as punch to reveal Birthday Cake For Breakfast has entered the podcast world and what better way to open up ‘60 Minutes or less‘ than with our first guest – Joe Casey, vocalist in Detroit post-punk outfit Protomartyr! I caught up with Joe in October 2023, ahead of a sold out headline show…

[sinceileftyoublog]

Protomartyr & Stuck Live Show Review: 7/13, Thalia Hall, Chicago

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“Tap calls the time,” Joe Casey sang last Thursday at Thalia Hall as Protomartyr performed “Elimination Dances”, a standout track from their new album Formal Growth in the Desert (Domino). Like many of the band’s best songs, its inspirations are obscure, this particular instance taken from a game in a 50′s dance manual: Once you’re tapped out, you stop. Given the Detroit punk band’s generally bleak nature, it’s not hard to find the referenced game a fitting metaphor our everyday life, trying to survive in a capitalist hell world. But consider that Formal Growth was written in the context of the death of Casey’s mother, recorded in an actual desert at Sonic Ranch in Tornillo, TX with producer Jake Aron. Casey didn’t aim to create something or find meaning out of emptiness, per se, but answer the question, “Once tap calls the time, how do the rest of us move on?” Luckily for him, and for us, there’s music.

I’ve seen Protomartyr a bunch of times. I never would have thought to describe one of their shows as life-affirming, but Thursday’s was, from the younger segment of the crowd’s persistent moshing to the unexpectedly anthemic quality of the band’s performance. The live version of Formal Desert opener "Make Way” traded the studio version’s openness for a much mightier, choppier stomp. The crowd reframed the anxiety-riddled namesake refrain of Relatives in Descent chugger “The Chuckler”--“I guess I’ll keep on chucklin’ till there’s no more breath in my lungs”--as an absurdist call to arms. The normally stoic Casey performed the entirety of The Agent Intellect’s “Why Does It Shake?” on the barrier between the stage and the crowd, about as close to spirited as he’ll ever be. Even the band’s chosen setlist seemed authored specifically to amp up the crowd. I mean, they could have played “Let’s Tip The Creator”, which chides the way tech billionaires treat art as a commodity, just as much of a charged bummer as the rest, but its subdued timbres are harder to dance to. Protomartyr’s instead taking the Gang of Four route, favoring, say, the skittering drums of “Fun in Hi Skool”. 

As this was the last show of the tour, Casey joked, “We’ll either be so tight, it will be the best show of our lives, or so tired it’ll be the shittiest.” Guitarist Greg Ahee, bassist Scott Davidson, and drummer Alex Leonard at least made sure it wasn’t the latter, of course. But it was the addition of The Breeders’ Kelley Deal as a full-time touring member of the band that elevated older songs even more than it provided faithful renditions of those whose studio versions she was on. Her voice subbed for the “I have arrived” echo on Under Color of Official Right’s “Maidenhead”, and her backing harmonies beautifully contrasted the ugliness of “Pontiac 87″. And her guitar tones on "Polacrilex Kid” seemed lifted straight from the Hawaiian twang of Last Splash’s “No Aloha”, an inspired replacement for the studio version’s pedal steel. Casey clearly remains eternally thankful. He once said in an interview with NPR, “Basically, the band comes up with amazing music and it's my job to not screw it up too much.” It’s all I could think about as I watched him sip from a Budweiser can, nodding like he was impressed while watching Leonard hammer away during the extended intro of “Jumbo’s”. If he sings on “The Author”, “Time's your enemy / Every gift you see will be taken for sure,” live, he demonstrates the unspoken flipside: Enjoy the gifts while you can.

Local post-punk band Stuck, who I saw open for Metz last winter, was the perfect primer for Protomartyr. They, too, sing about the effects of the decline of America, albeit with a nervy, wiry yelp that recalls bands like Devo and Squid. Lead singer Greg Obis was quick to point out how honored the band was to open for Protomartyr, one of his favorites. It’s easy to see the influence on their new album Freak Frequency (born yesterday). A track like “Fools Idol”, its descriptions of “violence unending” and “the boss descending,” is very Casey-esque in its brand proclamations. And like Protomartyr now, Stuck is that much more loud and urgent live, foregoing, for instance, the studio acoustic instrumentation of “Scared” for all electric jitters. However, unlike those of the perennially offline Casey, Stuck’s songs are riddled with technology-induced worries. At Thalia Hall, drummer Tim Green’s disorienting use of sample pads was an effective mirror for Obis’ admission he’s “distracted all over again” on “Loose Your Cool”. Green’s motorik drums and Obis’ and Ezra Saulnier’s sharp guitarwork reflected the pain of similar cycles of smartphone despair on “Time Out”. The almost hilariously plodding pace of “Planet Money” made a circus out of the song’s targets, the pundits who comment on the health of the economy as if it truly affects the everyday life of our most vulnerable. And then there was set closer “The Punisher”, the only song that saw Obis sing harmonically, sans paranoid screams. On the track, he deftly summarizes the absurdity of the January 6th insurrection, facetiously winking and nodding, “The future never looked so bright.” Even if the world that Protomartyr and Stuck envelop does everything in its power to suggest otherwise, upon leaving Thalia Hall on Thursday, you could, perhaps, agree.

[ask-the-furies]

do you all agree with each other's perception of /what/ you are? (collectively)

VOLITION- Yes, we do. The answer's pretty obvious, after all.

INLAND EMPIRE- Oh, yeah. We're ghosts.

LOGIC- What? No. No, we're different facets of a man's psyche, anthropomorphized as a mixture of coping mechanism and ability to process the world.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT-Ugh, so clinical! I think we're little people that live in his brain.

CONCEPTUALIZATION- That's pedestrian. We're only partially realized ephemera of wider theories, relation to the mental, emotion, and physical world.

SHIVERS- We're ideas.

COMPOSURE- We're helping Harry.

RHETORIC- We're fucking him up.

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN- We are what we are.

VOLITION- I thought we agreed, but... I guess we don't. What a surprise.

ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY- What do you think we are?

VOLITION- What we are is doing our jobs. Or at least, that's what we should be.

ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY- Lame.

[jamesgraybooksellerworld]

Walter Burley one of the most prominent logicians and metaphysicians of the Middle Ages

284J Aristotle , Gualtherus Burlaeus. (Walter Burley (c. 1275–1344/5 )) Expositio Gualteri Burlei super decem Libros Ethicorum Aristotelis (Contains the text of Robert Grosseteste’s translation of the Nicomachean Ethics) Venice: Simon de Luere for Andreas Torresanus, 4 September 1500   $11,500 Folio, 12 1/4 X 8 1/2 in.    A8 a6 b-x8 y10. Second edition after the first of 1481. This copy is bound…

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

New Video: Protomartyr Shares Punchy "Polarcrilex Kid"

New Video: Protomartyr Shares Punchy "Polarcrilex Kid" @protomartyrband @Dominorecordco @pitchperfectpr

Detroit-based post-punk outfit Protomartyr — Joe Casey (vocals), Greg Ahee (guitar), Alex Leonard (percussion), and Scott Davidson (bass) — have become synonymous with caustic, impressionistic assemblages of politics and poetry, the literal and oblique over the course of five albums — 2012’s No Passion All Technique, 2014’s Under Color of Official Right, 2015’s The Agent Intellect,…

[reiderwriter]

Okay so I have a small req (Honestly this is more of an hc than anything-but I need to share cuz vshvskhbjks) I feel like Spencer is genuinely so perverted when it comes to his girlfriend??? like if you leave your panties lying around he IS swiping them and he is not ashamed like...he may not do much in public but in private he will grab a handful of your ass or tits when he can like.....In the early seasons, I feel like he'd be a little ashamed but s13+? hell no, especially when it comes to him getting caught being a lil perv gfkjk (FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF IT ISN'T YOUR CUP OF TEA!!!!)

A/N; Gave this one some ✨️angst✨️ just because I could, but YES TO PERVERTED SPENCER!! YES INDEED!!

Summary; You get to know your coworker well after a decade on the job. You get to know just how much he loves to touch you and just how much you enjoy his hands on you as well. But after prison, something is changed in Spencer Reid.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ Minors DNI. Masturbation (M, F), oral sex (F), hand job, mentions of somewhat public indecency, groping, grinding, etc, unprotected sex, PinV, creampie, dirty talk.

Spencer Reid had always been a pervert, and it took you six long, quiet months to figure that out. 

When you'd joined the BAU after years of begging for a chance, you were a team expecting field-hardened agents, and for the most part, that's what you'd got. Hotchner was as bureaucratic as they came, Rossi had been at the institution as long as the concept of the BAU had, and the others had some serious qualifications to their names. 

But Spencer Reid was the outlier. He was a bit timid in front of the others, always seemed to put his foot in his mouth when it mattered most and seemed to be patronized around the office a bit until it came to his intellect. 

And you didn't quite know how to act around him until you got to know him very, very well. 

A case in some state or the other had called for emergency motel rooms, unfortunate as some Nascar show or the other was rapidly filling up hotel room spaces everywhere. So, as the two youngest members of the team (and by far the most eager to please), you'd ended up rooming together in a double twin room. 

“So, Spencer, what do you do at night to wind down? Relax after a case?” The motel door had swung shut loudly behind you an awkward three minutes before you started the conversation, and you needed something to break the awkward tension in the room. 

“I… read, I guess?” 

“You're always reading. What book is it today? Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy? Maybe Dickens?” 

In response, he'd just awkwardly held up the book cover for a minute, leaving you to nod and let the conversation peter out. It wasn't the first time one of your conversations with him died out due to a mutual lack of skill, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. 

Giving in, you grabbed your bag and headed for the small bathroom, a strategic retreat to pass the time without having to acknowledge that the teams resident genius was ignoring you. 

Because he definitely was. 

You'd been on the team for six months, and you couldn't quite figure out why he'd never so much as asked you how your day was. He'd be jovially talking with one agent or the other and would clam up as soon as you joined into the fray. 

Spencer Reid was stuck in his shell, you'd been told. He was someone who didn't open up very easily, especially after his first few, very rough years in the BAU. 

You let each concern roll off your back as you showered and cleaned yourself up after a day of dumpster diving for clues. Your next aim was getting out of the shower, dried, and into bed before you felt the weight of his disinterest in you settle any heavier. 

“Hey  I'm all done now, and I'm gonna hit the hay, so bathrooms all yours.”

“Thanks,” he said and immediately strode in, shutting the door behind him without another word. 

You wished you could shake the man. You weren't exactly used to being so pointedly avoided by a peer, and it was honestly making you feel rather indignant. You wanted to grab his attention and hold it any way you could, so much so that your palms started itching. 

The sounds of Spencer's shower interrupted your attempts to rest, so you set about organizing your things instead. Folding your shirts, you placed them in your go bag, taking inventory on how many fresh outfits you had left and how much laundry you'd have left to do when the case ended. 

It could've been the haze of sleep, or perhaps just an early warning bell, but no matter how many times you counted, you always came up short by one pair of panties. It took another minute of blinking out the sleep in your eyes, becoming suddenly alert again, that you realized it was the pair of panties you'd been wearing before your shower. 

“Fuck,” you sighed, trying to fill the deep pit of embarrassment opening in your stomach before it swallowed you from the inside out. “Fuck.” 

When in doubt, you found it best to curse at least twice. 

And just like that your coherent thoughts went out the window - a morning, afternoon and evening doing manual labor under the guise of a nice desk job would do that to any girl - and you found yourself opening the door to the bathroom without knocking first or even remembering Spencer Reid's presence in the room at all. 

He froze in shock as you came face to face with him, shirt and pants open, his long cock in his hands and his face flushed with erotic shock as he rubbed up and down the length of his cock. 

“Shit, fuck, Spencer I'm sorry I was- are those my panties?” 

Rather unabashedly, your eyes hadn't left his crotch as he froze in fear at your intrusion. 

“I'm not a pervert!” He shouted, still unable to let his dick go, so close to bliss as he was. 

“You're madturbating into my panties, Spencer. What other label would you put on that?” 

“You're really hot. It's hard to ignore. I don't usually do this, but they were in here on the floor, and I thought about taking them back out to you, but then you'd think I was a pervert for touching your underwear and then I imagined you thanking me and putting them back on right in front of me and my cock was so hard and you said you were going to sleep. Did you know most men masturbate eight times a week on average? Me doing this once while sharing a room with you for a week isn't statistically …that …bad. Why are you doing that?”  

You'd been done listening halfway through and had somehow found yourself sinking to your knees. He'd rested his body against the bathroom sink, so you organized yourself in front of him, staring up at him innocently as you wrapped your fingers around his hand. 

“I want to see what it was you were doing with my panties, Spencer,” You moved his hand up and down his length, slowly dragging the lacy material across each inch. “Please let me see.” 

The empty shower kept flowing and the room was thick with steam as you kept up a steady pace rubbing up and downs Spencer's cock. 

A sense of achievement hit you with each moan and gasp he let out. Every time his hips thrust up into your hand, each time his hand stroked your hair in thanks for your copious attention. 

You'd finally gotten through to Spencer Reid in a way that you were about to make sure was mutually beneficial. 

His moans got louder and harder to conceal with a bite of the lip as he got closer to cumming. He really was a pervert, letting his coworker jerk him off in a motel bathroom while on a case. He was practically begging for release. 

“Cum for me Spencer. Make my face pretty, please please please.”

His eyes shot open wide as you stuck your tongue out, just in time to taste his cum on your lips. A few stray ropes hit your chin and cheek as well, with the majority staining the panties you'd come in to search for. 

“Thank you, Spencer,” You giggled, wiping away his cum and standing yourself up to come face to face with him. 

“Y/N, it won't-” You cut him off with a kiss that he eagerly returned hands, falling all over your body in his haste to feel every part of you. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he was a cartographer mapping out its caverns, desperate to learn each soft caress you returned off by heart. 

“If you were about to say it won't happen again, I suggest you think again, Spencer. I want this to happen again. Regularly.”

You shut off the shower and turned on your heel, walking back out to the bedroom and out of the heat for a few minutes. 

“You want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“And I'm the pervert?” 

“You were using my panties and your hand like a fleshlight, Spencer. Yes, you are a pervert.”

“I'm a pervert but you still want to jerk me off?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.”

That's how it began. Your decade-long escapade with Spencer Reid. It wasn't that you dated. He was still unsure about how to approach you for another few months after that, but there was nothing like the relaxation of a few orgasms to really help you warm up to somebody. 

For the first few years, a case didn't pass without one of you slipping into the others motel room for some late night entertainment. 

You knew just how deep his fingers could hit inside you after only two weeks. You became obsessed with how well his cock could stretch you out, how his hands would gently rub around your clit in circles while you bounced up and down on his length. How he watched your breasts bounce with untold wonder in his eyes. 

You most of all loved that his tongue was as eager to taste you as you had been that very first time to taste his cum. 

Half the times he let himself into your room, he'd satisfy himself by eating you out lazily for hours on end, making you moan his name while you came on his fingers and tongue. Every flash of violet that he caught a glimpse of - that first pair of panties - drove him crazy. 

Motels and hotels and once the back seat of an SUV after a long drive became your time to get closer to your coworker. You never once thought of bringing this physical relationship home with you, though, and it wasn't a continuous thing. 

You'd had to take it easy when he got shot in the leg, not wanting to hurt him anymore. And again, when he'd gotten shot in the neck, though a few times he'd begged you to close his hospital door and help him out still. 

And you'd both distanced yourself after Emily's death and miraculous resurrection. Surprisingly enough,  you'd found your heart slightly twisted when he'd begged the team for help rescuing his girlfriend from a stalker. 

But you always found your way back in his bed with his tongue pressed against yours and his cock buried as deep into you as far as it could go. In the decade you'd been sleeping with the secretly perverted and somewhat insatiable Spencer Reid you'd never gone longer than three months without his body in your bed. 

Until he went to prison. 

The weight of your grief at losing him was unparalleled. You'd been heartbroken when Emily had died, but it paled in comparison to the thought of his isolation. Penelope had to remind you to eat, Luke had to engage you in conversation to keep you talking. 

Emily slipped a spare key to Reid's apartment to you somewhere around the three week mark, and you'd let yourself into a place you'd only ever heard described. You slept in his bed to feel his scent wrapped around you, touched yourself there to remind yourself that you were just feeling the loss of a sexual partner and friend and nothing more. It was lust and sexual frustration driving your depression. That was all. 

Spencer came out different. Everyone did. On the surface, he was still kind, still a little bit nerdy, and he still wasn't the best at reading social cues, but there was an intensity to him that wasn't there before. 

On cases, he'd wrap a hand around your waist and push a hand just slightly under your shirt while you introduced yourself to local detectives. He'd hug you at the end of every work day, breathing in your scent and telling you how tired he was. 

His hand would firmly cover your thigh and not move the entire duration of any car ride, team dinner or family event, and he'd kiss the back of your neck and grope your breasts each and every elevator ride you took alone together. 

Spencer Reid hadn't been able to keep his hands off of you for six whole months, and yet he hadn't actually touched you.

Every time you'd knocked on his motel door, he'd not opened it, and he hadn't once come to yours. 

You'd expected him every day for a week after he'd first gotten out and had even explicitly told him so. You texted your address, invited him over, and sent him pictures of you in those infernal panties that you really didn't wear that often anymore. 

He desired you still, you knew enough from brushing past him and feeling his semi push against your ass, you knew in every hug where he touched you just enough to know he wanted more but still had the control to pull away. 

You knew that he only kissed your neck, because if he kissed your lips his tongue would wander all the way to your cunt and he'd be on his knees between yours making you scream his name in pleasure. 

Spencer Reid wanted to avoid you, but he still wanted you, and after six months of celibacy you were tired of waiting around for him to finally crack. 

Emily had never asked for the spare key back. With 10 years of dalliances under your belt, you were sure the entire office had caught on, if not before prison, then certainly after his hands took possession of your body after his release. She wasn't going to ask for the key back because that was like asking a question she probably would sleep better without having the answer to. 

Spencer started his professorial work, and you finished some nights before he could manage the commute home, so it was easy to let yourself into his apartment for the confrontation. 

When Spencer finally turned his key in the lock, he found you there  on your knees on the floor in a matching violet set of lingerie. Not your originals, but certainly close enough - smaller, though. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” 

“I'm just sitting here in my underwear for fun, Spencer. You should try it sometime.”

He frowned at your sarcastic reply but stepped closer to you, topping your head up to meet his gaze with a quick flick of his finger. 

“I mean it, Y/N. Why are you here?” 

“I…I want you to touch me again.” 

“I touch you plenty, Y/N. I touch you here,” he traced your lips. 

“And here.” His fingers fell to your neck, sweeping some hair off your shoulders. 

“And a lot here, too.” He cupped one breast in his hand and gave it a squeeze, and you let your head rest against his thigh as he slipped a finger into your bralette. 

“I want you to touch me more, Spencer.”

“How? How should I touch you? Be a little pervert for me and tell me, Y/N?”

Your breathing faltered for a second as he pinched your nipple and you bit your lip before you told him exactly what he wanted to hear. 

“I want to feel your dick buried deep in my pussy. I want to cum on your tongue. I want you to stretch me out with your fingers and I want you to fill me up with your cum. Please, Spencer, I miss you so much.” 

He said nothing but withdrew his hand from your chest and distanced himself slightly, turning his face away from you. 

“Spencer, please, what's wrong? Did I do something-”

“Do you miss me? Or do you miss fucking me?” The words would regularly send you into an indignant stomp, and part of you was still begging you to let out a shout of “what the hell is that supposed to mean.” 

But Spencer was frozen still in the doorway of his house, almost statuesque as a melancholic look overwhelmed his features. 

Your courage drained your body as you stood up and pulled the shirt you'd earlier discarded back on. 

“Spencer? Look at me, please.” 

He did reluctantly, and that blank expression still filled his eyes with gloom. 

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch, sitting him down and wrapping yourself around him. 

You say there, head pressed into his neck, legs straddling him as his arms slowly came up to pulling you back in. Your heart beat harder by the second, and you counted down the minutes as you worked up courage.

“I missed you so much I drove myself insane. I had to sleep here for a week straight after they told me you were put in solitary. Every day, I thought of your hands on my body and how much I missed seeing your fingers flipping through a book on the jet. I missed asking you what you were reading, and I missed convincing you to put the book down.” 

You pulled your head up to meet his gaze and slowly let your mouth fall to his lips. It was slow, soft. An innocent peck in the context of your usual caresses. It spoke the words I miss you more effectively than your voice could, and neither of you seemed to want to part from the warm embrace. 

“I missed you, Spencer Reid.” You spoke, cutting off your kiss as you grew more impassioned by his touch, breathing harder and speaking faster and faster now as you kept on. 

“I missed you when you came back because you kept your hands on me. You let yourself enjoy my body in public but wouldn't let me share your bed in private. You hugged me, but you wouldn't let me hold you, and you have not once spoken about how you feel, you have not once told me that you are okay now or that you are not okay and you need my shoulder to cry on.”

He was silent until your tears sprung forth, and then he was everywhere around you, kissing the drops from your face, shushing you and whispering words of encouragement and thanks and love into your ears while he placated your breaking heart.

Because somehow you fell in love with the pervert who stole your panties and now you were sitting in a room with a mostly broken man, begging him to use you to feel whole again. 

“I love you, Spencer. Please, please let me touch you.” 

“I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips, hands finding your hips again as he finally pushed his tongue into your mouth. 

His nails bit into the skin at your thighs as he forced you not to move, instead grinding up into you after another heated kiss. 

“It was hard, but you kept me going. Memories of you, your mouth, your scent your wet cunt wrapped around my cock, you kept me alive in that place.” He worked you up with each dirty confession as his hands pushed the shirt back off your shoulders and bared the lingerie to him once again. 

“Then I was out, and you were still the same as I remembered, but I was different, and I needed more from you. But I couldn't take more, and I didn't want to ask you to give more because I could not beg one more person to love me.” 

“You don't have to beg, Spencer, I love you already, I love you I love you I love you.” 

“Y/N, you don't understand. I am completely enamoured with you. I want to possess you, I want to keep you in my room, I want to have a hand on you at all times. I want to put a bullet in any man who looks at you because you are mine. I'm not a pervert, I'm a monster, and I'm going to hurt you.”

“Possess me, hurt me, keep me, Spencer, do whatever you want to me, I will let you. Just please don't leave me.” 

Your teeth clicked together in his haste to recapture your lips again, his cock hard and already sprung from his pants thanks to two pairs of quick working hands. 

He pushed aside your panties, and he was inside you, pressed to the hilt recapturing the place that was home to him. 

“You picked this color for me. You wanted me to lose control and fuck you and you got what you wanted,” he whispered in your ear as you locked your ankles together behind his back. 

“I did.”

“Good. I'm going to rip them shred by shred from your body so nobody else can see you acting like such a desperate wet cunt ever again.” 

You let out a gasp at his words, and his tongue dropped back down your throat as he rutted into you ferociously. 

“Spencer, yes, fuck me. FUCK!” 

Your hips met his in a furious clash, his hand making their way around to your butt cheek as he aided your thrusting, pulling you up and down the length of his cock. 

“That's it, look at your boobs bouncing for me, sweetheart. Your body knows when it's being fucked right, it knows when I'm here, and I'm the only one who can make you feel this good, right baby?” 

“Yes, Spencer. Yes!” 

His hand came back up to your clit as you met his hips more enthusiastically than before, fucking yourself on the length of him. 

“You're going to cum on my cock. Show me how much you missed me,  missed this.” 

“So much, missed you so much, Spence….need your cum inside me, fill me up Spencer, please."

It took both of you only a few more desperate thrusts to reach the climax you'd waited half a year for. You convulsed on his dick, shuddering underneath him as he filled you with rope after rope of cum.

But when you had both caught your breath, you still didn't let go, still holding on to him desperately as of he'd vanidj in another second despite your confessions. 

“Y/N…” he cooked into your ear as you buried your face in his chest again. “Y/N, we need to get you to bed.” 

“I'm not leaving.” 

“No, you're not. But you're not sleeping on my couch either.”

You pulled away just enough to watch his face as he dipped down for another sweetly chaste kiss. 

Lifting himself up, and pulling his cock out of you, you whimpered a little at the loss of his warmth, but after rearranging himself in his pants, he pulled you up next to him and wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug as he slowly walked you back towards his bedroom. 

“You really slept at my apartment?”

“I slept in your bed. I'm sorry, I know it was overstepping, but you were gone and I-”

“Missed me, I know.” His hands traced your spine again before cupping around your bare ass and hooking it under to touch your soaked cunt. 

“How much did you miss me, Y/N? How did you spend your nights here?” His fingers once again hooked under the panties, but instead of pulling them to the side, he quickly pulled at the seams, and you heard a ripping sound aa his eyes demanded the answer to your question. 

“Close the door, and I'll shoe you exactly what I did here, Spencer. I'll show you everything.’ 

[rastronomicals]

4:17 PM EDT September 14, 2023:

Protomartyr - "Boyce Or Boice" From the album The Agent Intellect (October 9, 2015)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: Shiny Echo Stuff

[hoshifighting]

"Seungcheol, if your mouth could stay shut for once, that would be amazing."

"You should try sitting on it sometime."

Synopsis: Where you are a Secret Agent, and on a new task, the director of your agency puts you in charge of a mission, however shared with Seungcheol, your enemy within the company.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, smut, face sitting, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, reader kicks Seungcheol once, guns, Seungcheol is such a flirty, and etc.

Since you started to work as a secret agent, you have spent eight years of your life dedicated to the operations of your enigmatic organization. Your reputation for being a relentless workaholic had earned you the respect of your colleagues, but you knew that, as a woman, you had to work even harder to prove yourself in this male-dominated field.

The mission briefing had been shrouded in secrecy, and you were accustomed to the clandestine nature of your work. The director, a stern and calculating figure, sat at the head of the table. Your heart raced as you took your usual seat, the weight of responsibility settling over your shoulders.

"Agent Y/N," the director began, his eyes piercing through the dim light, "you have proven yourself time and again as one of our top operatives. Your dedication to the mission is commendable, and your track record speaks for itself."

You nodded, acknowledging the director's words with a stoic expression. Years of covert operations had taught you to keep your emotions in check, especially in the presence of those who held your fate in their hands.

"However," the director continued, his gaze shifting to a figure standing near the door, "this mission is of utmost importance, and we've decided that you'll be working alongside Agent Seungcheol."

The tension in the room was palpable as you and Seungcheol exchanged a curt nod, acknowledging the director's decision. The history between you and Seungcheol ran deep – you had been recruited together, trained side by side, and grown up together 

inside of the secretive organization. However, somewhere along the way, an unspoken rivalry had developed, and your interactions had become laced with sarcasm — a habitual defense mechanism that had become second nature to both of you.

As the director delved into the mission details, you and Seungcheol kept your gazes fixed forward, avoiding eye contact. The air was thick, because neither of you could pinpoint the exact moment the rivalry had begun, but it had become an integral part of your dynamic.

You couldn't deny Seungcheol's skills – his sharp intellect and quick reflexes complemented your own, forming an unexpectedly effective duo. But since you never liked his guts, you never asked to work with him. You liked to charge the missions alone, a bit egoistic, but sharing the mission with someone means that you needed to get along with their ideas. And when that someone is a pain on your ass, you can't help but want the mission to end as quickly as possible.

In the following days, you and Seungcheol found yourselves forced to cooperate.

The training room echoed with the sounds of combat, and you and Seungcheol faced off under the watchful eyes of the trainer, who called for a sparring match between you and Seungcheol. 

Seungcheol's muscles rippled as he steady himself for the impending clash, his confidence evident in his cocky grin. You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath about the unfairness of the situation. 

You exchanged a glance with Seungcheol, both knowing that this was going to be more than just a friendly sparring session. The trainer's words fueled the competitive fire that had long been smoldering between you two.

Seungcheol chuckled, flexing his muscles theatrically. "Come on, Y/N, don't hold back. I hope you've been practicing your moves."

You rolled your eyes, a smirk playing on your lips. "Oh, Seungcheol, I've been waiting for this moment."

As Seungcheol lunged towards you, you swiftly sidestepped, allowing your training to guide your instincts. With a calculated move, you delivered a precise and well-timed kick to the middle of Seungcheol's legs. 

The room echoed with a sudden gasp "Fuck! My balls!"

Seungcheol crumpled to the ground, his confident grin twisted into a pained expression, cursing under his breath. A tiny tear formed at the corner of his eye, which, against his will, rolled down his cheek. 

"Seriously? A kick in the balls? That's your strategy?" Seungcheol asked, holding his crotch. 

"Well, it never fails." You couldn't help but chuckle, extending a hand to help him up. "Besides, it's not my fault your muscles can't protect you from everything." 

Seungcheol accepted your hand, irritation in his eyes. "I'll remember this, Y/N. Just you wait."

[...]

The air was filled thick with the mingling scents of expensive perfume and cigar smoke. As you discreetly adjusted the gun holster beneath your dress, your eyes scanned the crowded party. Important figures from politics, the music industry, and CEOs adorned the lavish venue. 

Seungcheol's voice crackled in your earpiece, his tone playful. "Careful, Y/N, don't trip over that fancy dress of yours."

You adjusted your black dress, the piece clinging to your body was not the best choice for this type of mission. but you had to look sophisticated, blending seamlessly into the high-profile event. Rolling your eyes, you responded with a sharp whisper "Careful Seungcheol, before I choke you with your own tie." 

Perching yourself on a barstool, you observed the president's wife making her way down the grand staircase. The opulent ring on her finger immediately caught your attention. However, a quick and discreet glance told you what your sharp instincts suspected – it was a clever forgery.

As you listened to her conversation, she mentioned the gift from her husband, a gilded ring with a sparkling jewel that captured the attention of everyone in the room. But you knew better; the real ring was somewhere else.

Leaving the crowded main hall, you discreetly made your way to the backyard of the mansion. Spotting a vertical staircase, you hesitated, careful to avoid any prying eyes. 

As you got up the ladder, Seungcheol's voice chimed in through your earpiece, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and disapproval. "Seriously, Y/N, could you have chosen a more discreet dress for this mission? You're practically broadcasting our presence."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, even though he couldn't see you. "Well, Seungcheol, if you can find a way for me to conceal a gun in a gown, I'm all ears."

A faint chuckle echoed in your ear as you reached the top of the stairs. "Point taken. But your dress is a bit... revealing."

Looking down, you noticed Seungcheol standing below, arms crossed, a disapproving expression on his face. A sudden gust of wind played a mischievous role, lifting the fabric of your dress and revealing a hint of your thigh through the slit.

A small sigh escaped your lips as you discreetly adjusted the fabric to regain some modesty. "I know the view is amazing, Seungcheol, but we've got a mission to complete. Focus, will you?"

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, trust me, I'm focused."

"I need you up here. We have work to do."

"Aight Ma'am."

The search for the elusive ring led you and Seungcheol through the rooms of the mansion. The tension in the air was palpable as you scoured every inch for the hidden treasure, aware that time was decreasing. 

The quiet shuffle of footsteps grew louder, echoing through the opulent hallway as you and Seungcheol frantically searched for the elusive ring. The sudden realization that someone was approaching sent a jolt of urgency through both of you. Without a second thought, you grabbed Seungcheol's arm, and the two of you dashed towards the nearest hiding spot – a closet at the end of the corridor.

"You know, Y/N, it's a shame we're stuck in here. I was hoping for a front-row seat to your fashion show."

Your eyes narrowed, and you shot him a stern look. "Seungcheol, if your mouth could stay shut for once, that would be amazing."

As he investigated the cramped space, he muttered, "You should try sitting on it sometime." His quiet suggestion, delivered as if he had inadvertently let his thoughts slip, hung in the air.

"What the fuck?" 

A moment of silence hung in the air before you couldn't help but scoff, a mixture of disbelief and amusement in your response. "Really, Seungcheol? Now is not the time for your innuendos." 

The thought of sitting on his face was really tempting, even if he was Seungcheol, you couldn't deny the he looked hot as fuck. However, you couldn't let his teasing distract you from the pressing matter at hand. 

"Why, of all people, did they choose you to work with me on this mission?" you inquired.

"They wanted to see if we could actually work together without tearing each other apart."

"Let's find that ring and get out of here before your humor gets us caught."

The realization struck you as you scanned the closet for any last-minute clues – a piece of cloth concealing a safe. Your instincts kicked in, and with no time to decipher the real passwords, you swiftly directed Seungcheol to step back.

"Move away, Seungcheol," you commanded, grabbing your gun and taking aim at the lock. A single shot echoed through the room as the lock shattered, revealing the sought-after ring nestled within the safe.

The relief was palpable as you delicately retrieved the reason of the mission. However, the sound of the gunshot had undoubtedly attracted attention. With a sense of urgency, you pocketed the ring, and both of you left the room. 

Bodyguards approached, closing in on your location. Seungcheol's quick reflexes took down one, and with a swift move, you incapacitated another. The voice of your assistant buzzed in your earpiece, directing you to the parking lot where your escape awaited.

As you and Seungcheol hurried through the mansion, the route downstairs became blocked by advancing guards. A daring solution presented itself as Seungcheol seized your hand and brought you to a large window overlooking the party, with guests oblivious to the unfolding chaos.

You glanced at the dizzying drop, the pool below shimmering like a distant oasis. Fear of heights had never been an issue for you after years of high-stakes missions, but the sight still made you gulp. Seungcheol, holding your hand, assessed the situation.

"It's the only way," he declared, determination in his eyes.

The sound of approaching bodyguards left you with no other option. Taking a deep breath, you squeezed Seungcheol's hand, and together, you leaped from the window. 

Gasping for air, you and Seungcheol emerged from the pool, the water cascading off your soaked bodies. Wasting no time, you and Seungcheol hurriedly left the pool, the wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to your forms.

Navigating through the concerned crowd, you and Seungcheol helped each other, the soaked clothing making every step a challenge. The glances from the partygoers intensified as more bodyguards approached, running towards the commotion. The parking lot, your salvation, beckoned in the distance.

With the sound of approaching footsteps and murmurs growing louder, you and Seungcheol quickened your pace, weaving through the gathering crowd. The black car awaited your arrival. As you reached the vehicle, wet and disheveled, you wasted no time. The doors swung open, and you both practically fell into the car, water dripping onto the leather seats.

Seungcheol revved the engine, and the car sped away from the mansion, leaving behind a confused and agitated scene. The wet clothes clung uncomfortably, but the precious ring, safely secured in your hand, provided a sense of accomplishment amid the chaos.

The car sped through the night, weaving through the city until it came to a stop at the inconspicuous hiding place behind the International Attaché Offices. The tactical team awaited, ready to secure the ring and initiate its swift return to the country, knowing it was in capable hands, and the team quickly moved to carry out their mission.

Once the ring was safely in transit, you and Seungcheol made your way to a nearby hotel. The day's events had left you both soaked, drawing more than a few curious glances as you entered. The receptionist raised an eyebrow as you approached the check-in counter, both of you dripping water onto the floor.

The news that you and Seungcheol would be sharing a room elicited a shockedreaction from you. "Really? After spending the entire day together?!"

You huffed in response, making your way to the room with a glance back at Seungcheol. The tiredness from the day's events washed over you, and as you entered the room, you couldn't help but express your exasperation.

"I hope you don't snore," you quipped, a hint of humor in your voice. "After today, I need some decent rest without any surprises."

Seungcheol chuckled, seemingly unfazed by your protests. "Don't worry, Y/N. I promise to be on my best behavior."

You emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped around your hair, to find Seungcheol already engrossed in a conversation with the IT specialists, poring over the details of the ring's location. He glanced up at you, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Feeling more calm now, Y/N? Has the anger passed?" he inquired, seemingly unfazed by your earlier irritation.

You scoffed, a trace of annoyance lingering. "No, it hasn't. And it won't as long as you keep talking." 

His grin widened. "Well, you know, I did give you a good suggestion back at the mansion. Sitting on it would keep me shut."

You chuckled, appreciating the humor in his attempt to lighten the mood. However, when the laughter subsided, you noticed the shift in Seungcheol's expression. His playful demeanor gave way to a more serious gaze, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to his earlier comment.

"Wait, are you serious, Seungcheol?" you asked, the curiosity evident in your voice.

He met your gaze, the playful facade replaced by a sincerity that caught you off guard. "About what I said earlier? Yeah, I was serious."

Your legs involuntarily pressed together, a strange mix of disbelief and arousal sweeping through you. The suggestion that initially seemed like harmless banter now had an unexpected effect, making your panties damp, while you tried to maintain composure.

Seungcheol, with a cocky grin, manspread in front of you, his cock showing up on his tactel shorts, so locking eyes as he casually asked, "So, what's your answer, Y/N? Feeling a bit more open-minded now?"

 "Seungcheol, you must be out of your mind if you think I'd entertain that idea."

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "Why not? We've been through a lot today. A little stress relief might do wonders."

You scoffed, trying to dismiss the newfound awareness of the situation. "Your suggestions aren't exactly what I had in mind for stress relief, Seungcheol."

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving his face. "Oh? And what did you have in mind, then?"

The unexpected turn in the conversation took you by surprise, and you hesitated for a moment. However, the playful glint in Seungcheol's eyes and the underlying sincerity in his previous words made you reconsider. 

With a wry smile, you conceded, "Fine, Seungcheol. Maybe your suggestion has some merit. A little unconventional, but it's been a long day."

Seungcheol's eyes widened in surprise, his cocky demeanor momentarily replaced by genuine astonishment. "Wait, seriously? You're considering it?"

You decided to take the lead, sliding off your shorts and panties in one swift motion. "Come on, Seungcheol, no time to waste. Act before I give up." 

Seungcheol, seemingly caught off guard by your bold move, grinned and chuckled. "Well, when you put it that way."

Without hesitation, he followed suit, taking off his shirt and laying on the bed, Seungcheol's silent gesture prompted you to get up, you climbed onto the bed, straddling him. When you feel the warmth of Seungcheol's breath against your wet pussy, you stop and slowly sit on his face.

You gasp, and he moans against your core, his tongue running through your folds, before sucking your clit between his lips. Seungcheol's hands grab your ass, instructing you to ride his face. 

As you began to ride, the room filled with the wet sounds, the arousal from your dripping pussy, now was glistening on his face, Seungcheol's eyes were attentive, watching your reactions, to see if he was eating you out like you deserve. 

"Fuck, it's so good Seungcheol-ah…" Your legs trrembled around his face, and he answered with a long hum. 

You still stopped from releasing your weight on him, Seungcheol sensing this, wrapped his arms around your waist, your cunt pressed to his tongue now. His tongue swirls around your clit as you squirm holding his hair making his eyes close in pleasure. He begins to suck your bud with more precision, your clit becoming more and more sensitive and the vibrations of his groans against your pussy made your orgasm finally hit you, your legs closing around his ears.

As you released yourself from Seungcheol, sitting on his side. He ran his thumb across his wet chin, a subtle gesture that seemed to convey a sense of satisfaction. With eyes closed, he sensually sucked on his thumb, his gaze met yours, a satisfied look played on his face. 

"Is there something more I can do for you?" He asks, caressing your legs.

A teasing smile played on your lips as you whispered in his ear,  your words laced with playful suggestion. His response was a low, involuntary moan, his lips bitten in response to the subtle teasing.

Seungcheol, catching on to the direction of the conversation, asked, "Is that what you want?" Your nod was all the confirmation he needed. 

With a swift movement, he got up, freeing himself from his shorts, revealing there was nothing underneath. His cock lays on his belly, big and proud, the precum already making his tip shiny. 

You positioned yourself, laying your face on the bed and lifting your ass up, glancing back at Seungcheol from over your shoulder. The suggestive pose seemed to elicit a reaction from him.

With a swift motion, he slapped your ass, a grin playing on his lips. "You're naughty," 

He positioned himself, before slamming his dick all inside of you, the veiny cock was stretching your walls, while he hummed how good your pussy was tightening around him.  

"Fuck, I don't even know why we've been buckering like two idiots, you're so hot." He says before his hips start to pick up pace.

The room became a symphony of moans as you mumbled something about how good it felt, your face pressed into the mattress. Seungcheol's hands firmly held onto your body, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he skillfully hit the g'spot.

Seungcheol moaned, expressing the pleasure of the moment. "You feel so good around me, you lil' slut" he muttered.

In response, you announced that you were on the brink of another climax. "I'm cumming again," you whispered.

He eagerly asked, "Yeah?" And with that affirmation, he sped up his hips, sending you into a convulsive release, spasming on the bed.

As you tightened and then relaxed around him, prompting Seungcheol to release. A primal moan escaped him, and he threw his head back, while he pumped his dick, his cum spreading on your ass. Your body collapsed on the bed, the duvet now soft against your skin. Seungcheol laid by your side.

Seungcheol's fingers gently brushed through your hair, a tender gesture that contrasted with the all-the-time-bickering. He leaned in, kissing you with a fiery intensity that left you momentarily breathless, your senses overwhelmed.

As you came back to the present, Seungcheol, a teasing glint in his eyes, asked with a smirk, "Did I knock you out with that kiss, Y/N? Or was it something else?"

"Hmm… I'll kick your balls again" You threatened tiredly.

"No! You won't!" He covers himself and you chuckle closing your eyes.

[moonflowerxox]

"My team? Let me tell you about my team.

Agent Morgan fought to protect his identity from the very people who could save him, why? Because trust has to be earned, and there are very few people he truly trusts.

Reid's intellect is a shield which protects him from his emotions- and at the moment his shield is under repair.

Prentiss overcompensates because she doesn't yet feel she's a part of the team, she needn't worry.

Everyday, agent Jareau fields dozens of requests for our team; and every night she goes home hoping she's made the right choices.

Garcia fills her office with figurines and color to remind herself to smile as the horror fills her screens.

And agent Gideon, in many ways, is damned by his profound knowledge of others. Which is why he shares so little of himself, yet he pours his heart into every case we handle.

I stand by my actions, and I stand by my team. and if you think you can find a better person for the job, good luck."

[bedroom-kingdom]

I recall seeing the pope Pontiac 1987 Money changing between hands Outside the Silverdome Afterwards a riot broke Old folks turned brutish Trampling their way out the gates Towards heaven That fall from grace Knocked me on my knees Don’t tell anyone That's what I wanted The god of change Knocked me on my knees Don’t tell anyone That's what I wanted Remembering a Jumbo’s night December 26th Weird faces filled up the bar Half sober Outside a steady snow All new white With new money and false friends I don’t like it That fall from grace Knocked me on my knees Don’t tell anyone That's what I wanted The god of change Knocked me on my knees Don’t tell anyone That's what I wanted The dog in the manger eats its anger But I miss it The way it was before the scales Fell from my eyes There's no use being sad about it What's the point of crying about it There's no use being sad about it What's the point of crying about it There's no use being sad about it What's the point of crying about it There's no use being sad about it What's the point of crying about it There's no use being sad about it What's the point of crying about it There's no use being sad about it What's the point of crying about it There's no use being sad about it What's the point of crying about it There's no use being sad about it What's the point of crying about it

Protomartyr The Agent Intellect 2015 U.S.A.

[lukreziaaa]

“My team? Let me tell you about my team.

Agent Morgan fought to protect his identity, from the very people who could save him. Why? Because trust has to be earned and there are very few people he truly trusts. Reid’s intellect is a shield which protects him from his emotions and at the moment his shield is under repair.

Prentiss overcompensates because she doesn’t yet feel she’s part of the team. She needn’t worry. Every day, agent Jareau fields dozens of requests for our team. And every night she goes home hoping she’s made the right choices.

Garcia fills her office with figurines and color to remind herself to smile as the horror fills her screens. And agent Gideon in many ways is damned by his profound knowledge of others, which is why he shares so little of himself. Yet he pours his heart into every case we handle.

I stand by my actions and I stand by my team.”