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[alessandrodecrypto]

Wall Street Pepe Most Hyped New Pepe Meme Coin To Buy NOW!!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Fu-Schnickens

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

I can't remember where I first heard dancehall reggae, but I do remember where I bought most of my dancehall cassettes: at Play De Record, a great hip hop/reggae DJ store on Yonge Street in Toronto whose bins were all killer, no filler. I'd go into the store every couple weeks and more or less pick three albums at random and love every one of 'em. I just discovered that PDR is still in business, which makes me extremely happy:

https://www.playderecord.com/

Look, I know that mostly I use this blog to talk about tech politics, monopoly, impending fascism and the climate emergency, with the odd science fiction review. But all that other stuff (modulo the sf novels) are weighing on my heavily this week, and I feel like posting something a little more lighthearted. So I consulted my editor (me), who called a special meeting of the editorial board (also me), who kicked it up to the publisher (still me), and they all agreed that I could write a post about a weird hip-hop album that's been earworming me in the best way imaginable since 1992.

I'm pretty sure I bought Fu-Schnickens' debut album "F.U. Don't Take It Personal" at Play De Record. Certainly, I have a memory of stopping on the sidewalk outside of the store to wrestle the cellophane off the cassette and pop it into my walkman. I definitely remember my first walk through the city with the music in my ears. I laughed aloud. Several times. I might have even danced a little:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B2wD7FbIzGI&list=PLJw–ySHyZNwsmLcxfW3NWTyxQX7mARas

At the time, I knew nothing about Fu-Shnickens. In the years since, I have listened to F.U. Don't Take It Personal approximately one heptillion times and somehow managed not to learn anything about Fu-Schnickens. Today, I read their all-too-short Wikipedia article and learned that the group was together between 1988 and 1995, that their second album (which I remember not being as impressed with) had a top-40 novelty track with vocals by Shaquille O'Neal, who said the Schnickens were his favorite hiphop group:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fu-Schnickens

I get it, Shaq. They're great. First of all, they're incredibly silly. Long before Wu-Tang Clan, they were doing this weird kung-fu movie schtick in their songs (which, admittedly, walks an uncomfortable line between "parodies of racist depictions of Chinese people in the movies" to "racist parodies of Chinese people in the style of those movies"). Their songs are jammed with pop culture references in a way that puts, say, Paul's Boutique to shame. You can get a sense of this by looking at the lyrics transcribed over at Genius (where they are criminally under-annotated):

https://genius.com/artists/Fu-schnickens

Take "La Schmoove," a song that references "The Jeffersons," "Leave It To Beaver," "Superfly," Honey-Nut Cheerios, Popeye, Elmer's Glue, Elmer Fudd, Pippi Longstockings, "Married With Children," "Three's Company," "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang," "Do-Wah-Diddy," the board game Battleship, and Pepe Le Pew. It features rhymes like "we in there like swimwear," "Adios muchachos dorme vous unbuckle my Fu-Schnick shoe," and "Yo zilch kaput me nada none son." It's legit bonkers.

But also: they're really good. The frontman, Chip Fu (Roderick Roachford) raps really fast, has amazing flow, and periodically just starts rapping backwards, like literally saying the same syllables he just said, but backwards, with that same amazing flow. They are steeped in old dancehall, and it shines through (they more-or-less single-handedly revived Tenor Saw's now-familiar "Ring the Alarm").

Many of their songs feature a kind of hiphopified Phil Spector wall of sound, a kind of melodic drone that underlays the beats and lyrics. As soon as I hear that drone, I start smiling, because I know what's coming.

I have been earwormed by these tracks for this entire century and much of the past century. It's always really hard to explain why you like something, but I think that Fu-Schnickens' pop culture stream of consciousness and nonsense syllables are a kind of rhythmic version of my own internal monologue, which is a kind of endless babble of fragments of books, music, movies and TV; dumb jokes; words repeated until they lose all meaning and become meaningless phonemes, all kind of splinters of ideas and words floating around, bumping into each other.

There's lots of dancehall and dancehall-adjacent stuff that's arguably better than this album, like "The Good The Bad The Ugly & The Crazy," the amazing and underappreciated collaboration between Necka Demus, Junior Demus and Super Cat:

https://www.discogs.com/master/158493-Super-Cat-2-Junior-Cat-Junior-Demus-Nicodemus-The-GoodBadUgly-The-Crazy

And I could listen to Shaggy's cover of "Oh Carolina" all day:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BtLqmWt2h2g

Or Apache Indian's "Boom Shack-A-Lak":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZzBd41NuZw

Or even better, "Ragamuffin Girl":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGhrpajNtKk

But none of music is on continuous shuffle-play in the back of my brain the way "F.U. Don't Take It Personal" is and has been since the Clinton administration:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B2wD7FbIzGI&list=PLJw–ySHyZNwsmLcxfW3NWTyxQX7mARas

What's more, this is one of the very few (non-Talking Heads, non-David Byrne) albums that my daughter and I like listening to together in the car. It's so perfectly silly, virtuosic, funny, and danceable. Still as good as it was when I was young and had the hips I was born with. I've owned it on cassette and CD and as MP3s. I somehow own the vinyl (though I have no turntable).

I'm grateful to the management of this publication for the opportunity to share it with you.

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/17/holy-batfu-its-an-apple/#ba-schnicker-bah-snchnucker

[former-ghost-of-the-internet]

One Night in Medellín

(Screen shot and image edits done by me)

Summary: Takes place during s2ep5, when Los Pepes first attacks the narcos on the streets of  Medellín. You lose your hearing during a standoff and are dumped at the Search Bloc base. Javi comforts you in the aftermath, finding ways to communicate through your temporary deafness. 

Javier Peña x f reader

Word count: 3526

Rating: 18+ for some dark content in the background. My blog/‘place I keep my reblogs’ is very Mature, so no minors allowed there, sorry.

Warnings: series typical violence, hurt/comfort, soft Javi, tiny bit of your blood, descriptions of panicked reader, generally able-bodied reader, might read as shorter than Javi, only one instance of female clothing for a funny awkward moment, no specific descriptions of reader, hopefully this is fairly inclusive for everyone. No y/n, no smut.

Authors note:   100% bad information on everything medical related in this story. Any cultural inaccuracies are my own fault too. Apologies to Steve Murphy for being the butt of a joke or two. First time writing in second-person. Not American so the spelling will be slightly different.

Please enjoy 😊

....

Medellín nights were always festive, despite one man’s war with the Colombian government. 

You’d had a long but good day, far far away from the UNICEF office and in a little communa church hall, where you and the other doctors and nurses had vaccinated as many children as could be rounded up. Even the abuelitas had rooted out the most stubborn kids, and either guilted them into coming down, or whacked them in the right direction with their walking sticks and shoes, if not open palms on skulls. Each time was a commotion, and to ease hurt childish feelings, you slipped enough pesos into their hands for an ice cream. For the hard-working abuelitas a coffee cart vendor happily provided free coffee, after you had thrown a pretty smile his way and warned him the little old women were worked up enough to be a threat to anyone not on their side. And he absolutely wanted to be on their side. 

With the unused vaccines stored at a major hospital, and saying goodnight to the local doctors who’d been right next to you since sunrise, you’d headed to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant one nurse raved about during one break you’d taken with her, with free coffees, thanks to a sharp glare from the abuelitas, bless their hearts. 

It was further from the city centre than where you’d been told to stay close to at night, but you hoped your very bright UNICEF shirt would offer some protection in the dark. Even your backpack had a big red cross on it. Anything to say you were a doctor, here to help, and absolutely not a threat. 

The restaurant was packed, even the few plastic tables shoved outside were full, and the small waitstaff offered paper plates to take-away, which many people had chosen, and sat on the street curbs to eat, under the yellow streetlights.

At last the line to order, which the waitstaff had banished to wait outside the actual restaurant, had shortened to only you and the two men in front of you. They both carried full gym bags. And as you noticed with a slight chill through your spine, handguns tucked into their belts. They chatted together without a care in the world, as you looked away to make sure you didn’t see their faces, even in low-light. 

You stared up the street to the top of the hill and the man who walked down it with an assured swagger, encased in khaki pants. Like he’d stepped out of the jungle. 

You frowned as he passed under a streetlight. Something about his face was familiar in a bad way. 

He had his focus on the men standing next to you, and in a blink, drew his own handgun out. 

An arm grabbed you around your shoulders, pulling you back into a chest, your backpack falling to the ground. Then the cold metal of a weapon held to your ear. 

Shouts in Spanish between the men, some sort of negotiation happened as you tried to simply breathe. This is what everyone was afraid would happen to you, from the president of Colombia, to your superiors, and your family, down to the Medellín officials and a couple of American DEA agents. They’d all wanted you to stay out of the murder capital of the world. You’d told them no one would target you. The local doctors were still here, so why shouldn’t you? 

Now you were a human shield, not because of your work, but because you were the closest person to grab. You had never considered the possibility of it before this minute. 

The man behind you moved a step back, taking you with him. Except your legs refused to work, staying where you had left them. Another step back, dragging you along, and your legs crumpled underneath you, making you slide down his body at an awkward angle. Enough for the man in khakis to shoot.

The bullet entered his chest right by your ear. All sound stopped and you were falling.  

You landed on a dead man’s chest. On instinct, you curled into yourself and away from everyone, hitting the rough and hard concrete of Medellín’s streets. 

Hands grabbed you and hauled you to your feet, half carrying you to a waiting SUV. First you, then your backpack were bundled into the darkness of the back seat. The dead men’s gym bags also ended up with you. The owner of the hands hopped into the front, and the driver took off.

A hand came back to tap your cheek, grabbing your chin and twisting your head to look up. The accidental light of street-lamps and cars flashed across your view. He smiled at you and his mouth moved as if he was talking.

You frowned and focused on his mouth. None of his words were getting through to you. You blinked hard to try to clear away the fuzziness of the world, but it changed nothing.

His mouth made these exaggerated shapes and his spare hand moved in circles, like a hamster spinning uncontrollably on a wheel. Maybe he was shouting at you.

You blinked again to be sure, and then had to shake your head. You couldn’t hear anything.

He smiled then tapped your ear and gave a thumbs down. You nodded. 

That caused an explosion of arms from him, as he whacked his driver on the shoulder. Looking back at you, he took note of the UNICEF insignia on your shirt, and you realised where you had seen him before. Carlos Castaño. A paramilitary man based in the jungle, fighting communist guerrillas. 

You had met once before. You’d had to get permission from every side, paramilitary commanders, regular military commanders, government officials, and even the guerrilla commanders, before they let you step anywhere near the Amazon. All so you could vaccinate a few children in a communist village.

The communists had been straight-forward to convince, once you talked in their lingo, focusing on healthcare for all. For the others, a bribe that came out of your pocket, another a promise not to get in the way of anything and to get out in under 24 hours. The Castaños you convinced by saying the communists were dirty, potentially disease-ridden plague carriers. If the brothers couldn’t promise you every communist in the jungle dead in three months time, then they had to let you in to vaccinate, so no epidemic could start from their continued existence. 

You hated saying it, and drunk too much later that night to get the sound of it out of your mouth, but it worked. Those kids wouldn’t die from a preventable disease. But you couldn’t save them from a bullet shot by mad, greedy men. 

Carlos smiled at you again, and pointed his driver to take the next left. 

Some minutes later, the car pulled up to the curb.  Carlos turned to you and put a finger over his lips and shushed you. Then he dragged the same finger across his neck and finally pointed it at you. 

You didn’t know what your face was doing at this point, you probably looked like a scared rabbit, all wide eyes and trembling body. Carlos broke and laughed at you, waving you out of the car. You fumbled with the car door, and stumbled onto the dark, damp street, dragging your backpack with you. They sped off into the night as you stumbled with your own weight.

Not far away, in a pool of white light, was a gate-way guarded by Search Bloc officers. Carlos had dumped you, the little lost foreigner, in front of their base. Your legs co-operated long enough to get you to the gate.

The guards stopped you with one hand up and the other resting on their rifles. You raised both hands up, and announced to everyone’s ears but your own, your name and nationality, that your passport was in your bag. The words felt like they slurred coming off your tongue, like they were heavier than usual. You wondered if you made any sense, but one man nodded at you to continue. It took you no time to dig out your passport. 

With a short inspection of your passport, and a torch flashed into your face, the guards waved you through the gate. One of them touched your ear and brought it up to your eyes to show you blood. The other held his radio up to his mouth. 

As you checked your ear for more blood, a police car came from the base, and the guards helped you in. A short ride and you were taken inside the bright building. The lights blinded you, and you tried to cover your eyes, barely seeing the medic ushering you to a bench. 

You kept blinking, like if you could turn off the world for a bit you would be alright again. You’d be able to focus, to think, to speak, to hear. The outside world was right there in front of you, and as much as you tried to reach out, you were locked behind your eyes. 

A warm hand caressed your arm and shoulder, bringing your attention to its owner. Javier Peña. He stared at you with big brown eyes, looking you over better than any doctor. His hand slid down to yours, keeping it safe under his. 

Javi listened to the medic, then his attention went to a nearby officer, and you saw his lips ask a question, his eyes straying to the dark streets beyond the base. You shook your head, grabbing his shoulder with your other hand, pulling his eyes back to yours, shouting out your warning in clumsy sounds you couldn’t quite hear. If you had your way, no one, not even the narcos, would be out on those streets tonight. Especially not him. 

Because Javi cared. No matter what anyone, or even he said. His heart cared for so many people you’d lost count, though he tried to keep it secret from the rest of the world.

And somehow, somewhere, he decided he cared about you too.

Javi nodded, as serious as ever, and cupped your cheek. Message understood. Relieved, you crumple into him, his arm wrapping around you to hold you close. His chest rumbled, maybe talking to you, or maybe to the officer. After a few breaths, he squeezed your hand and tilted your body back to look at him. He nodded towards the stairs. You nodded back and he helped you up, letting you lean against him.

He led you upstairs, past many doors, until he reached one particular darkened room, and ushered you in. You recognised some of Javi’s colourful shirts piled on a chair, and larger piles of Steve’s shoes, pants, and tops, scattered over half the room and one of the two-tier bunk beds.

Javi led you to a small desk, its small lamp draped a soft light over the room, pulled out the chair for you, and poured a glass of whiskey. He made sure you had both of your hands cradling the drink before he let you take the slight weight from him. You sipped a little at the strong drink, watching as he first gathered up his few visible clothes, shoving them in a suitcase, and then collected Steve’s mess, roughly sorting and folding, then at last dumped into a closet.

Javi went to the neater bunk bed, not Steve’s, pulling back the thin covers, inviting you to rest there. But you didn’t move. You just sat there blinking at the world.

He came back to you, dropped to a knee, and untied your shoelaces, gently taking off your shoes. Setting them aside, his eyes looked you over again, and settled on the whiskey in your hands. He pointed at it, and then glanced up at you. It took a second or two before you realised he was asking if you wanted more. You shook your head and moved the glass away from you. Javi plucked the drink out of your hands. He had a quick debate with himself, ended with a short shrug, and then downed the remains.

Putting the glass on the desk, he swallowed again, before catching your gaze with his. He lifted both hands to his chest, cupping them like the air was something heavy he could hold up, and jiggled them up and down. Then he pointed at you and made a gesture like he was swiping a cobweb away. You frowned and he repeated the sequence. This time his cupped hands looked like a bikini top. You still had no idea what he wanted to say.

With a quick lick of his lips, he reached forward and tapped a finger on your bra strap under your top.

Your face heated as you realised his question. Did you want to take your bra off? Yes, you did, and you nodded at him.

Javi joined you in nodding, but then put a finger up, telling you to wait. Another nod from you, and he was on his feet, dragging out his suitcase again, digging to the bottom of it. At last he brought out a khaki green t-shirt, and placed it on the end of the bunk for you. As you got to your feet, he shoved the suitcase away and retreated to the door, closing it behind him.

He could have stayed and turned his back, but maybe Javi thought that was too hard to mime. You change out of everything except your undies, draping it all over the back of the chair, and slipped on the t-shirt.

The door remained shut. It felt colder without him in the room. You rubbed an arm to try to stop your shivers. Was he coming back? Should you wait? Or was this everything you could expect from him? He had done plenty for you.

He’s probably not there. Why would he be? He’s got files to read still, the radio to sit by, informants to call, Steve to rescue, or maybe he’s finding another bunk to sleep on. So long as he stayed on the base it would be fine. He would be fine.

The hallway is empty. It has to be. You were on your own, you just had to be alright with that. And you would be. Eventually.

It would take time but you would be good again.

You huddled into yourself, your eyes dropping to the ground, as you tried to make your heart understand that Javi had done enough for you tonight. Then you saw the shadow under the door, like something was behind it. Your hand was on the knob before your brain could think.

Javi twisted his body to face you. He had stood guard on your door as you changed. The worried look over his features seems to be a permanent guest this evening.

Your eyes must have said please come back, as he maneuvered you inside with a gentle hand above your elbow, and followed, closing the door again. He sat you down on his bunk bed, and then further down to lie on your back.

He rubbed your arms a few times, slow and comforting, staring at you for a while. At last one hand came up to cup your cheek and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You nuzzled closer, his mustache tickling your skin. Your heart, mind, and body called out for Javi to stay. Nothing else would help you, could soothe your tremors, calm you and find yourself again, like being close to him.

Javi drew back, and your hand shot out to grab his arm, gripped tight so he couldn’t leave you.

His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb soothing over the slight hurt he’d caused.

When your breathing eased, you pointed at him and then at the bunk below you.

Javi looked over his shoulder at the door, like he was saying he would find another place to sleep, but that wasn’t what you meant.

You jostled his shoulder to get his attention once more, pointed forcefully first at him then at your bunk. Not another bed, this one. With you. This time he understood. His eyes flicked from place to place, your bunk and then Steve’s bunk, even down at his shoes as he thought of something, and then he nodded.

You were shuffling to make room for him when he stopped you. Javi pointed at you then covered his eyes with a hand. He wanted you to keep your eyes closed, so he could get comfy too. But it meant you’d be down another sense. No sight and no sound. The world would be even further from you.

His eyes begged you to trust him. You took a few deliberate breaths, and he waited for you, watching for any sign of major distress. At last, you nodded and used both hands over your eyes to show you weren’t peeking.

In your darkness and quiet, the only company you had was the bunk under you and Javi’s weight next to your thigh. You could smell his aftershave and cigarette smoke, not overpowering, but most definitely there with you, and not leaving anytime soon. Nice and comforting and him. You took deep breaths of it.

He shifted his weight forward, one way then another. Shoes, you guessed. He came back to you, and did a short wiggle. Something landed next to your arm, soft and warm. His shirt.

Javi’s weight left the bunk completely. Panic made your muscles clench, and you forced your hands down into your eyes, trying to glue them in place, and breathed as best you could.

Something rougher and stiffer and warm landed on top of his shirt. Jeans? He was still here.

You waited a long, long moment for something more to happen.

Two fingers tapped the back of your hand. A deliberate action, purposeful, a message to you. Safe to look now. You drew your hands away and saw Javi standing next to the bunk in a pair of white boxers, folding his shirt and jeans away in his suitcase. He leaned over and placed a quick kiss on your forehead. A thank-you for your bravery.

He left before you could catch him, going to the bottom end of Steve’s bunk, lifting it up and closer to your bunk. He repeated with the top end, and you got to your knees, reaching over to grab the metal frame and pulled it in snug next to yours.

Javi, the genius man that he is, had just created a queen-sized bunk bed. Room enough for your body and his broad shoulders.

You watched as Javi climbed into his side, wondering how he wanted to sleep, when he draped his arm over to you, hugging you to lay snug against his side, your head resting on his bare chest, one of your arms across his waist. He fussed with the covers for a moment or two, making sure most of your body was underneath it.

He was warm and smooth and solid. Safe. At last. You breathed in deeply, his unique scent filling your nose, and then let it go. Another in, and out again.

Your heart had settled. The world was as far away as it needed to be right now. Or perhaps the world was as small as this room, as this bunk. This man. Your arms around him, and his around you.

If your eyes closed tonight, Javi would be there, under your touch.

One more thing left to do. You shifted to look into his eyes. They were filled with concern, until you whispered your thanks to his ears alone. Even a tiny smile on his lips crinkled the corners of his eyes. You couldn’t stop yourself from planting a kiss to his cheek. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, and he nuzzled his nose against yours as soon as your lips left his skin, then moved up to your forehead, kissing it again.

Those brown eyes locked with yours for a moment, before he closed his eyelids, and then opened them quickly and nodded at you.

He wanted you to close your eyes. So you did. You felt Javi lean in closer still, and then his lips placed a kiss first on one eyelid, then the other.

Opening your eyes, you pressed your forehead to his, and moved your hand from his chest, to soothe over his jaw, his chin, then trace over his lips. You wanted to kiss him there. And from the glint in his brown eyes, he wanted it too.

But it wasn’t the right time. Both of you knew it. Besides, you wanted to hear him.

Javi’s lips twitched into a soft grin as if he heard your last thought. His mouth formed words, slow but firm. Three short words. Then he settled you back down onto his warm chest.

You felt Javi’s heartbeat against your cheek, counted its beat without numbers, let its languid pace lull you further towards sleep, until at last your eyes closed with the peace he gave you.

And in your dreams Javi’s heartbeat was your world.

....

Thank you for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!

[cranberrymoons]

a love to last past saturday night

here's the first 3,500-ish words of the coffee shop au i've been working on!

—

There’s a little cafe at the end of Steve’s block that he’s only ever been in once. 

It’s called Corroded Coffee and it’s dark in there and maybe a little pretentious, but not pretentious as in… people reading classic novels or having discussions about French Cinema. Pretentious in the sense that there’s an intimidating collection of vinyl records taking up half an entire wall and they use single origin arabica beans and the scary baristas look at you sideways if you order regular milk in your latte. 

He knows this last part because the one time he did stop in, shortly after he moved to the neighborhood, he asked for an iced vanilla cold brew with cream, and the redheaded girl behind the counter looked him up and down as she punched his order into an iPad. 

“Okay,” she said slowly, disdainful and bored like she was barely concealing an eye roll. “I guess that’s eleven dollars, if you’re sure that’s all you want.”

Steve was sure. He was also sure that he’d never forgive himself for spending so much on a single cup of coffee that he could probably make at home for about fifty cents, but… support local businesses? Use his company card? Also, he was too embarrassed to tell her to cancel the order. 

So. 

Anyway, it’s about three months later when he goes in there for the second time. This time, it’s because his coffee pot broke (a shitty off-brand Keurig that he bought on Amazon for about twenty bucks, which for the record is less than the cost of two iced coffees from this place), and he really has to get to work, and the coffee at the office is – fine, actually, but – whatever. 

Whatever.

The coffee in the office is fine, but he’s walking toward the train feeling like his hair and his tie are somehow both on sideways, and a customer pushes out of the café and into the street, bringing with them a wave of caffeinated air, and before Steve has the chance to make a conscious decision one way or another, he’s standing inside the shop, eyes adjusting to the sudden shift to dim lighting.

When he comes to his senses, there’s a brief moment where he considers just turning around and walking right back out, but before he has a chance, the guy behind the counter leans an elbow against the shoulder-height glass pastry case and says –

“Hey man, what can I get you?”

Too late. 

Steve blinks and focuses on him. He’s tallish with long hair that’s been pulled back into a puffy knot on top of his head, dish towel slung over his shoulder, indecipherable band tee, nails painted black, a flock of bats and a long line of perfect crescent moon phases running up his forearm, and – yeah. Steve, in his crisp Brooks Brothers button-up and ironed slacks, is definitely not the right kind of cool to be coming in here.

“You do want coffee, right?” the barista prompts. He raises his eyebrows in question. “I just watched you Pepe Le Pew your way in here, so.”

In spite of himself, Steve laughs. Call it the exhaustion. He takes a step closer to the counter. 

“You saw that?”

The man grins. “You’re hardly the first exhausted corporate zombie to stumble his way through my door.” He reaches for a paper cup, pen in hand. “What’ll it be?”

“Just – coffee?” Steve suggests, then he flushes. “That was dumb. Sorry. I uh – I don’t really know much about coffee. Just a normal one with milk?” Then, remembering last time, he says, “Oat milk. I guess.”

“One drip with oat milk, coming up. You want a muffin or anything with it?” He taps the glass case with the end of his pen. “These just came out of the oven. The cranberry orange.”

“Oh, I –” Steve eyes the muffins in the case, crystalline sugar on top, shiny and perfect-looking. He does kind of want one, but he pictures himself juggling it and the coffee and his phone and – “No, that’s fine. Just the coffee, thanks.”

The man shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He punches a few things into the iPad then flips it around for Steve to pay. “Three seventy five.”

Steve narrows his eyes. That… can’t possibly be correct based on his last experience with the place, but he taps his card and punches in a tip, then nods to the barista as he shuffles off to the end of the counter to wait for his drink. He sends another look toward the muffins, and his stomach grumbles; maybe there’ll be leftover bagels in the office from the morning’s sales meeting?

By the time his coffee is ready, he’s lost in a very detailed fantasy about veggie cream cheese, and the barista has to wave to get his attention to pass him the cup. When Steve takes it, the man produces a little brown paper box and wiggles it in his direction. Steve frowns, confused.

“Oh, that’s not mine. I didn’t –”

The man raises his eyebrows and holds it further toward Steve. “On the house," he says. "Take it.”

Steve sets down his coffee on top of the case and accepts the box, flipping it open to reveal a cranberry orange muffin wrapped in crinkly parchment paper. He closes the lid and gives the barista a smile. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“Obviously I didn’t have to,” the guy says. He rolls his eyes, but it’s not – it doesn’t make Steve feel stupid the way the other girl had. “You looked like you wanted one, so you got one. Now be a good boy and say thank you."

Steve feels his face heat. “Thank you.”

The barista nods in approval then gives him the ghost of a wink before turning to help another customer, and Steve reclaims his coffee, retreating to the door and back out into the cold.

—

He doesn’t really mean to go back the next day, but – well. The coffee had been good, okay, and the muffin had been really good. And it’s Friday, and he’s allowed a treat, and he obviously hasn’t had a chance to replace his own broken machine yet, so.

He doesn’t really have a choice. He’s here by necessity. That’s it.

“You’re back,” the barista says, eyeing him up and down when he gets to the front of the line. “Was my muffin that good, that you had to come crawling back for more the very next day?”

Steve, more alert this morning than he’d been yesterday, manages to smile like a normal human being. 

“Your muffin?”

“Our muffin,” the barista says. He spreads out his hands in front of himself. “New York’s muffin. The world’s muffin.”

“No, I meant –” Steve laughs. “You made them? It was good.”

“I know it was.” He shrugs, then taps the stack of cups on the counter next to him. “Coffee?”

Steve glances at the menu on the wall. He has a suburban Starbucks level of knowledge when it comes to this stuff, which basically means he knows the difference between like… a cappuccino and a latte, sort of but – not really?

“Just the same again, plain with oat milk,” he says. “That was fine yesterday.”

The barista narrows his eyes. “Fine?”

“Good,” Steve corrects. “It was good. Like I said, I don’t know a ton about –” He waves a hand through the air vaguely. “Whatever.” He fidgets under the barista’s continued scrutiny, then adds, “Maybe sweetened this time though? I added sugar when I got to my office yesterday.” Then belatedly, “Sorry.”

“Tell you what,” the man says at last, apparently taking pity on him. He picks up a cup. “I’ll make you something that I think you’ll like, and I won’t even charge you for it. That way if you hate it, you can just – dump it down the drain or something. No hard feelings.”

“I can pay,” Steve says, frowning. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for giving me a bunch of free stuff.”

“Oh, I won’t. The owner likes me,” the man says easily, already busy behind the espresso machine. A burst of steam comes shooting out in a cloud, and he offers Steve a smile. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Steve,” he says. He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder where it’s slipping down. “Sorry, you probably needed that for the… the cup, or whatever.”

The barista’s smile widens, and he gives Steve another up-and-down look as he waits for the espresso to finish bubbling into the cup. “Nope. Just wanted to know.”

“Oh,” Steve says, feeling himself flush. He shoves his hands in his coat pockets to keep himself from fidgeting even more than he already is. “Okay, what’s yours then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Kind of why I asked.”

The man places the cup on the counter and presses a lid into place, sliding it toward Steve along with another little paper box that, when Steve peeks inside, contains a single croissant. He takes a sip of the coffee, and it’s… delicious, unfortunately, vanilla and caramel and maybe chocolate too? And he’s pretty sure that’s real milk, thank god.

“Come back tomorrow and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“We’ll see,” Steve says mildly, taking another sip. “Thanks for the coffee.”

He gets a teasing little wave in return. 

“Have a good day at work, Steve.”

—

Robin is aghast when he tells her at drinks later that night.

“You’re saying he’s been there this whole time, and you’ve just been – what, walking past and not noticing?!” she asks, leaning forward in her seat. She takes a distressed sip of rosé and widens her eyes at him. “This whole time?”

“Maybe not,” he says defensively. “Maybe he’s new. Maybe – I don’t know.”

“You don’t just give out free coffee on your second day, Steve,” she says, exasperated. She picks up a fry and jabs it into the little pat of mayo on the edge of the plate, gesturing wildly with it before stuffing it in her mouth. “Free coffee and free pastries! He’s totally been there this whole time, and you were just too chicken shit to go in there and see him for yourself.”

“I literally met him by going in and seeing him.”

“Still.” She groans in frustration. “Ugh, I can’t believe you’re getting seduced via baked good. Literally if I could find one single solitary woman in this city who would give me free baked goods as a mating ritual, I’d let her step on my throat.” She places a hand on his forearm and gives him a very serious look. “My throat, Steve.”

He laughs and shakes her off. “You don’t know he’s trying to seduce me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re right,” she says. She finishes her wine and sets the empty glass on the bar with force. “The hot tattooed barista who keeps winking at you and giving you free shit for no reason is totally just trying to drum up a loyal customer base for his coffee shop.”

“I didn’t say he was hot.”

She gives him a contemptuous look. “Is he hot?”

He pokes at the lime wedge that’s floating in his gin and tonic and doesn’t meet her eye. “Maybe.”

“You’re blushing. He’s obviously hot. I hate you so much.”

“Okay, don’t – we live in the Village. It can’t possibly be that hard for you to find a lesbian who likes to bake.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t stereotype. Just because we’re ladies and we have breasts.”

“I’m not stereotyping. I’m just saying: go to any plant store, pick a girl with a choppy haircut and a canvas tote bag.” He finishes his own drink and signals to the bartender for another round. “Odds are seventy thirty she’s a lesbian with a chocolate chip cookie recipe.”

“Literally every word out of your mouth just now was a stereotype. I’m breaking up with you.”

She turns her barstool away from him abruptly, and the guy seated on the other side of her blinks in alarm, looking at Steve over her shoulder with wide eyes. Steve gives him an apologetic look and places a hand on Robin’s arm, tugging her back around to face him. 

“Alright, come on, you’re scaring the public.”

She huffs, then gives the stranger a tight smile, then turns back to Steve. “You’re going back tomorrow, right? I’ll forgive you right now if you promise me you will.”

He sighs. “Why do you even care?”

“Because he’s hot,” she says, widening her eyes, “and he has tattoos, and he obviously wants to take you back to his place and do filthy, filthy things to you, Steve, and he knows how to make really good muffins.” She shakes him again. “Steve!”

“Yes!” he laughs, wrenching his arm free of her hold. “Fine, okay. Yes, I’ll go back tomorrow. I don’t even know his name yet. He said he’ll tell me if I do, so – I will.”

“Oh my god.” She buries her face in her hands. “I swear to god, if you fuck this up.”

—

Steve has always been a relatively confident guy. It’s not that. He’s not normally awkward or even shy. 

If anything, he’s better than average at blending in, even managing to convince his parents that he’s still the same person he was when he was a sports star back in high school: he finished his MBA without flaming out like half his class, he got a good-paying job in the city, he even goes back home to Indiana once or twice a year for Thanksgiving or Christmas. 

He’s normal. He’s… acceptable.

Just – he also knows when he doesn’t know something, and that’s when he gets flustered.

Like now, Saturday morning. He’s been standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom and staring at himself for a long time – probably too long – fiddling with the cuffs of his jeans and the swoop of his hair and the weird little… thing his sweater is doing where it bunches up around his waist. 

Maybe he should change. Or just… not go? Robin would forgive him, right?

Robin absolutely would not forgive you, says a horrible little voice in the back of his mind that sounds suspiciously like the woman herself. She absolutely would not, and then she’d come directly over to your apartment and let herself in and drag you there herself.

Fine. Just go. 

He takes a deep breath and releases it in a sharp huff. He can do this. He can totally, obviously, absolutely do this. It’s literally just leaving his building, walking three hundred feet down the street to the corner, and entering a coffee shop. That’s all he has to do. That’s all.

He does it.

When he walks in, he casts a curious glance around the space since, for the first time in here, he’s not in a hurry. It seems like no one else is either: it’s busy in a different way than it’s been for the past few mornings, fewer people calling out orders and pushing back and forth through doors, more occupied armchairs and tables with laptops. There’s a record playing in the background, something scratchy and smooth, interrupted by the sound of occasional jets of steam issuing from behind the counter.

And behind the counter is – Steve feels disappointment curdle in his stomach. 

Oh. 

The scary redhead. She’s sitting on a barstool with a knee drawn up to her chest, studying her nails and pretending like she hasn’t seen him. He steps closer to the counter, too close to ignore, and she sighs, looking up at him like his very presence is an affront to her. In spite of himself, he feels a little bubble of nervous laughter crawl up the back of his throat, and he swallows it down.

“Yeah?” she asks.

“Just, uh – a coffee?”

“It’s all coffee,” she tells him in a bored voice. “Are you asking for a drip coffee?”

“Yeah, just that, with oat milk,” he says, then adds, “Thanks.”

She jabs at her iPad then flips it around for him. “Eight dollars. Oat milk’s at the end of the bar, you can add it yourself.”

He gives her an awkward smile as he pays, and she just stares back at him impassively. He’s slipping his card back into his wallet and preparing to run away with his tail between his legs when the door behind the counter pushes open, and Steve’s barista – the nice one who gives him real milk and doesn’t glare at him – backs through it, balancing a tray of cinnamon buns in his arms.

He turns, then spots Steve, and his face breaks into a smile. He sets down his tray.

“Knew you’d be back,” he says, tilting his head with a teasing smile on his face. “Max, this is Steve. We like Steve.”

“This is Steve?” She gives him a once-over, then turns to make a face at the other man. “Seriously?”

Now that’s – “Okay,” Steve says. “I’m literally standing right here.”

“Yes. This is Steve, and today Steve would like a white mocha with two pumps of cinnamon.”

“That’s disgusting.” She makes a face. “Anyway, he paid for a plain drip coffee.”

“I didn’t ask what he paid for. I told you what he’s going to get. Can you make it for him, please?”

She glares at Steve’s barista then slips off her stool with a groan and the deepest eye roll Steve has ever seen in his life. 

“Whatever. It’s your shop.”

“Ignore her,” he tells Steve in a voice loud enough for her to hear. “Max likes to think she’s funny, but she’s actually just judgmental.”

She sticks her tongue out at him then sets about ignoring them, disappearing into a cloud of steam. He lifts up onto his toes to lean forward over the top of the pastry case and get a look at Steve.

“You’re very comfy casual today,” he says, dropping back to his own side. He raises an eyebrow. “Cute sweater.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, feeling himself flush. He tugs at the hem of it as he casts another look around the room. “This is your shop? I didn’t realize when you said the owner liked you, you meant…”

“Yep, all mine,” he says. “I can shamelessly flirt with as many customers as I want. No boss to tell me to get back to work.”

Steve widens his eyes. “Flirting with me, and he won’t even tell me his name.”

The man grins at him, resting his face in one hand. “I guess you’ve earned it.” Steve feels his stomach do a flip. “I’m Eddie.”

“Eddie,” he says, trying it out. It suits him, Steve thinks. “Nice to meet you. Officially.”

“Likewise,” Eddie says as Max passes him the coffee and returns to her stool with a huff. Eddie slides it to Steve across the counter. “Your very disgusting sugary coffee, handcrafted with love by our sweetest barista.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs, accepting the drink. He pries the lid off to peer inside. “Is this the same as yesterday?”

“Nah, I’m still figuring out what you like,” Eddie says. He waits for Steve to take a sip – another winner, maybe even better than yesterday – then says, “Are you busy tonight?”

Steve looks up from his coffee. Eddie is watching him with an amused tilt to his smile. Steve swallows.

“Am I busy tonight?”

“That’s what I asked. Are you?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Steve clears his throat. “No.”

“Okay,” Eddie says as he folds a cinnamon roll into a box and nudges it in Steve’s direction. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

Steve accepts the box, and before he can second guess himself he says, “Yeah, okay.”

Eddie’s smile is slow and easy. “Good. I wrote my number on the inside of the lid. Text me your address? I’ll pick you up at seven.”

—

When he gets home, he calls Robin, freaking out.

“I didn’t fuck it up,” he says by way of greeting when she answers on the third ring.

“What?”

“Hot tattooed… barista guy,” Steve says, pacing frantic circles around his living room and ripping a hand through his hair. “I didn’t fuck it up. His name’s Eddie, and he gave me a cinnamon roll, and it was really good, and – okay, so it turns out he owns the shop, he doesn’t just work there and –” He stops, staring out the window at the building across the street, unseeing. “And we’re having dinner tonight.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the phone, then a shout, then more silence, and then she says, “Holy shit. What are you going to wear?”

—

After much debate and two facetime calls and eventually Robin just physically marching the three blocks over to help him decide in person, and then him forbidding her from sticking around to interrogate Eddie – when the buzzer goes at seven sharp, 

When the buzzer goes at seven sharp, no games played, he stares at the box on the wall in alarm, half expecting it to come to life and bite his face off. When it doesn’t, he recovers (barely) and jabs at the button to let Eddie inside. 

[rubywillkins]

Hi! Can I get Pepe marti with Dark Mocha, whipped cream, soy milk, hemp milk, omelette, bruschetta, hot dog, Beef stoganoff, Butter fried chicken, and club soda? Thank you!

Sure darling ♥️

Pepe Marti |

Under the spotlight

Pairing pepe marti × female reader

Dark Mocha dating, whipped cream sweet sex, soy milk oral sex, hemp milk squirting, omelette blind fold, bruschetta edging, hot dog Size kink, beef stoganoff "you can take it, you've done it before" butter fried chicken "slowly, baby, I'm not going anywhere", club soda pillow talk

The paddock had fallen silent, the roar of engines replaced by the soft hum of the night. Pepe Marti leaned against the wall of his garage, his fireproofs tied loosely at his waist. The day had been intense, the physical toll of practice evident in the ache of his muscles. But his thoughts weren’t on the track anymore—they were on her.

Y/n.

She’d texted him earlier, promising an escape from the chaos. And as always, Her presence felt like the only antidote to the adrenaline-fueled frenzy of his life.

When he walked out to the lot, there you were, waiting by his car. Her sundress hugged her curves, fluttering softly in the breeze. She looked tiny next to the hulking machine, her stature dwarfed even more as she glanced up at him, her smile lighting up the dark.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

She laughed softly, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. “Figured you could use some downtime.”

They drove to a cozy café tucked into a quiet street, far from the paddock’s buzz. Inside, it was intimate—dim lighting, soft jazz, and small tables designed to bring people closer. Pepe’s broad shoulders barely fit in the booth, and Y/n couldn’t help but smirk as he adjusted himself, his size commanding attention wherever he went.

“Do you ever feel out of place, being so… big?” she teased, her eyes glinting with mischief.

He chuckled, reaching for her hand across the table. “Only when I’m with you. You make me feel like a giant.”

Her lips curved into a sly smile. “I don’t mind. Makes me feel delicate. Safe.”

Pepe’s thumb brushed over her knuckles, his gaze turning softer. “You are delicate. And I’ll always make sure you’re safe.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, the playful banter giving way to something deeper. By the time they left the café, her hand tucked securely in his, the atmosphere between them had shifted.

Back at the hotel, the tension was palpable. As soon as the door clicked shut, Pepe’s hands found her waist, pulling her against his chest. She looked so small in his arms, her head barely reaching his chin as he tilted her face up to his.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine.

Y/n’s hands rested on his chest, her fingers barely spanning its width. “Maybe I like driving you crazy.”

He chuckled low, the sound rumbling through her. “Careful, baby. You might get more than you bargained for.”

Before she could respond, his lips claimed hers, the kiss slow but deliberate. He scooped her up effortlessly, carrying her to the bed like she weighed nothing.

Her small frame seemed to disappear beneath his as he hovered over her, his hands trailing down her sides. The contrast between them made her breath hitch—the breadth of his shoulders, the sheer strength in his arms.

“You’re so little,” he murmured, his voice thick with adoration. “I feel like I could break you.”

“You won’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling with both anticipation and trust.

Pepe’s hands traced her curves, his touch both reverent and possessive. “You’re perfect,” he said, his tone almost a growl. “Every inch of you.”

"wait, I want to try something new", he said... He blind folded you... And you let him do ... You were enjoying whatever he was doing...

He started kissing you again from lips to breasts... Breasts to your clit... He started to suck on your clit.. you arching your back from pure pleasure... He was eating you out like a hungry animal who didn't have food from days..."

You taste so good y/n... So good" he said just just above your cunt.. you feeling his breath on your most sensitive area.. he started sucking your pussy again but this time his mouth was not alone... He was fucking you with his two fingers too... It was rough, raw just how you like.. but at the same time it was sweet.. even for a slight second you didn't feel disrespectd..

Suddenly you feel a knot in your stomach and you squirt on his face... "Babe.. look you made mess babe" he said while enjoying the mess he created..

He inserted his dick inside you... He didn't give the time to adjust and starts to thurst in to your soft pussy..

"babe,.. I can't you're so big.." you said whimpering...

"you can take it, you've done it before"

He said while removing and reinserting his dick again into your pussy...

He gradually increase his speed.. gently pounding into you... It was fast yet gentle...

"slowly, baby, I'm not going anywhere"

You said in his ears slowly moaning his name... That turned him on more..

Just when you were about to came he withdraw his dick from you... Just to tease you..

"babe please, no edging after making me feel so good... i was just about to come..." "Arghh... Pls insert it back.." you said craving for his dick more...

He insert his dick again.. inside you...this time it was a bit slow..but the duration was long.. he wanted to makeup for all the teasings..

He was so good in making you feel good...

You both came together..

Afterward, you both lay tangled beneath the sheets, your small frame nestled against his. You rested your head on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear.

“You know,” you said softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his skin, “I love how big you are.”

Pepe smirked, his hand stroking her back. “Oh yeah?”

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, your cheeks flushed but your eyes bright. “You make me feel… tiny. In the best way. Like I’m completely yours.”

His expression softened, his fingers brushing her cheek. “That’s because you are, Y/n. Every part of you is mine, just like every part of me belongs to you.”

Your lips curved into a shy smile as you settled back against him, his arms wrapping protectively around you. “You make me feel safe, Pepe. And loved.”

“And you make me feel whole,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair.

The night streched on, filled with quite whispers and soft touches . For Pepe, it wasn't just another race weekend- it was a reminder that no matter what happened on the track, she was his greatest win.

[jonathanrook]

hello i have watched every muppet movie (im pretty sure) with gonzogamer and every episode of one piece! they said sanji as pepe the king prawn and i totally agree, its tempting to make him the swedish chef due to the cooking but if sanji can't flirt he'll die, so, pepe. kermit as luffy main character yes, which means zoro has to be miss piggy (im zolu until i die) miss piggy could do three sword style easily, and she'd jump into the water to save kermit from drowning every time nami would be rizzo because 1: street rat/cat burgalar kind of match and 2 she is always ready to tell people when they're being idiots and rizzo would do the same usopp would be beaker - he's an inventor too! but he's also canonically a coward (but he beats his fear every time!!! i love usopp!!!) he's still very meek though, like beaker, and i think robin would pair well with him as bunsen because she has a curious scientific mind that is a little bit unhinged (wierdgirl robin i love you so much) chopper as a human youre absolutely right and the human has to be the rock (google SNL adult bambi skit) franky would be gonzo because stuntman/inventor pair pretty well together and i think gonzo could fire canons from their arms and we'd all be like yeah yeah that tracks. brook is dr teeth, musician extroidinare and he'd look great with a gold tooth - he's also the Most fashonable in a gaudy way and dr teeth has everything going on all the time. Jimbei would be bobo the bear, big and imposing but actually just a lovely guy. other honourable mentions is scooter as coby, uncle deadly as mihawk, and sam the eagle as garp!

this is the best ask i've ever received in my life i'm gonna print it out and hang it on my wall

[salt-is-a-terrible-currency]

Never meet your heroes

Written for day 9 of the Narcos fandom smut alphabet over on @narcosfandomdiscord

Fandom: Narcos

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Words: 955

Pairing: Javier x OFC Tracy

Prompt: in public

Warnings: smut, sort of exhibitionism?, age gap, self-loathing, shower sex

She’s giggling the whole way through the corridors and into the locker room, during which the only person they meet has headphones on - connected to a walkman at his hip - and his eyes glued to a notepad in his hands. It’s empty, and the door slides shut behind them. What are you doing? he chastises himself, even as he kisses her breathless. Tracy, is her name. This doe-eyed fresh out of college girl who caught him out by the front desk where he was waiting to hand over some tools that were left behind on the ranch. So no, it wasn’t some sudden desire to turn his life around, or some overdone New Year’s resolution to lose weight that put him in this place. No, it’s an errand for his dad which is one of only two reasons he goes into town these days. If he wanted to exercise - which he doesn’t - he would just move heavy stuff around on the ranch.

Tracy pushes him onto one of the benches lined up against the wall then settles on his lap. Javier hates locker rooms. Hates the way they smell and how they remind him of high school. He buries his face, and his mind, at the spot between her earlobe and her jaw to taste her salty skin. Her hands find their way under his button-up, nails scratching at his skin. It numbs the pain for a second, doing this. Javier doesn’t ever fuck on autopilot, he dedicates himself to whoever he’s with and so there is no space or time for other thoughts. No worrying about the ranch, no flashing back to dead people in the streets, no memories of whispers at the office as his involvement with Los Pepes got out. He just needs to pay attention to her. To how she sounds and moves, how she feels. Tracy rocks against his denim-clad bulge then pulls back. Javier reaches for her but she dodges his outreached hand with a giggle.

“I need to shower. Want to join me?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. With clothes on, she looked like something out of an ad for the gym. Naked, she belongs on the center spread of any of the magazines Javier turns to more and more often so he won’t have to face people. He stumbles to his feet, goes for the zipper on his jeans. She slips away from him as he begins to undress, letting her clothes fall to the floor and throwing him another impish look over her shoulder as she steps into the nearest cubicle.

Tracy doesn’t bother with closing the curtain, instead turning her back to him and turning the water on to let it cascade onto her.

“Hurry up,” she singsongs, “Evening aerobics is letting out soon.” Javier curses at the buttons of his shirt before finally ripping them in a fit of frustration. He kicks the jeans aside - palming the condom he fished out of his wallet - and strides into the shower, closing the yellowed curtain behind him with one hand while the other lands at her hip.

“Want to see your face,” he says over the thrum of the shower. She fires off another wide smile as she turns to him, lets her arms drape over his shoulders. He drags his fist along his erection, testing the fit of the condom, then drops the torn wrapper where he stands. All the while she’s planting kisses wherever she can reach. At his cheeks, his neck, the corner of his mouth. Content that the condom’s in place, Javier catches her in a heated kiss that has her shivering in the cramped cubicle. He backs her against the wall, drops a hand between her legs and begins to work his fingers over her bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” she cries out, legs twitching from the sudden stimulation. He keeps her there, pressed to the wall, as he works her open to receive him. Her orgasm comes quickly, her whole face and body tensing, before suddenly going lax again. He grabs at his cock again but she stops him with a hand on his forearm.

“Here,” Tracy says. She turns away from him again, sticking her ass out in an offering. Javier braces himself against the wall, plants his feet, and drives forward into her slick pussy. She whines at the intrusion but wastes no time in beginning to bounce with him, off-pace at first but then they find their rhythm.

“Oh gooood, yes!” She’s louder than a fucking air raid siren, and had Javier been in a clearer state of mind maybe he would’ve been more concerned about being caught. Now, all he can think about is what a compliment it is. That he’s good enough to make her scream. It’s over much too soon, and yet the second Javier steps back he feels like the moment’s dragged on for an eternity. You’re one of my heroes, that’s what she said to him in the waiting room. He shouldn’t be anyone’s hero, least of all for some 24 year old who has no idea what’s really going on in the world. The familiar feeling of disgust begins to seep back into his bones, clinging to him like tar. Tracy pulls her top back on, throws her wait hair back over her shoulder as she beams at him.

“It was nice meeting you, mr. Peña.” He swallows thickly, nods.

“Good luck-” he pauses for a moment, rifling through his mind for what little information she gave him before inviting him to the locker room. “-with that new job of yours.” With that, he pulls at his ruined shirt buttons, covering himself as much he can, and walks out the door.

[kripto-parahaber]

Meme coinler çökerken Wall Street Pepe rekora gidiyor! WEPE için sırada ne var?

Kripto para piyasası zor ve çalkantılı bir ayın ardından şubat ayına düşüş trendi ile başladı. Şubat başında altcoinlerin yanında şaşırtıcı kayıplar AI Agents ve meme coin sektöründe yaşandı. Donald Trump’ın yeni vergi uygulaması piyasadaki belirsizliği ve panik satışları daha da tetikledi. Haftalık olarak karışık bir seyir izleyen ve ocak ortasını kazanımlarını korumaya çalışan meme coin sektörü…

[36crypto]

Trump Coin’s Binance Debut: What It Means for Wall Street Pepe and Pepeto

The recent addition of Trump Coin ($TRUMP) to Binance has ignited fresh excitement in the cryptocurrency market. This milestone highlights both $TRUMP’s rapid rise and Binance’s growing interest in meme coins with strong community backing and impressive trading momentum. Now, the crypto community is speculating about which meme coin might be next to earn a Binance listing. Leading the race are…

[newsclickofficial]

As Wall Street Pepe ($WEPE) explodes in value, it may also be helped by Bitcoin suddenly waking up and reaching almost $110K in value. Bitcoin’s sudden rise will have been helped by MicroStrategy co-founder Michael Saylor’s decision to buy a large amount of Bitcoin for the 11th straight week. On January 13, MicroStrategy purchased 2,530 $BTC (roughly $243M). This brought its Bitcoin investments to around 450K $BTC ($49.5B). Now, on the day of Donald Trump’s inauguration as US president, another big investment by Saylor is likely coming. It’s worth noting here that Saylor could also be about to become Donald Trump’s Bitcoin spokesperson. The incoming administration hasn’t said yet who the spokesperson will be. But if Saylor appears at the inauguration today, then the chances of him being Bitcoin’s top dog at the White House suddenly increase. Will Wall Street Pepe ($WEPE) Ride the Coattails of a Surging Bitcoin? The value of altcoins is often tightly connected to Bitcoin. So, as the $BTC price enters the stratosphere, can it pull along altcoins in its slipstream? That could be what happens with Wall Street Pepe ($WEPE). Wall Street Pepe has been going absolutely bananas since its presale launched late last year. Its current presale stage has now hit $53M, which was probably helped by Elon Musk tweeting about it and seemingly endorsing it. Lots of people follow Musk, so an endorsement likely persuaded crypto bros to put their money where Elon told them to. $WEPE is also greatly helped by the fact that early investors were able to lock in a great token price, which has only moved in one direction – up, up, up. Its staking APY started off high, but as more investors joined the staking pool, it now stands at 24%, which is still a very respectable return on investment. $WEPE Token Holders Get More Than a Nice ROI Holders of the frog coin could potentially make a fantastic profit. They will also get insider trading tips, which are usually only reserved for the big boys of Wall Street. $WEPE promises to level the playing field and give the same financial opportunities to the little people to fight back against the whales and their market manipulation. Come join the Frog Army and take some of the riches for yourself. This populist message seems to be resonating. Wall Street Pepe could go down as one of the largest crypto presales (maybe even the largest?) ever seen. With less than a month to go before $WEPE officially comes out of presale, everyone is watching to see if the meme coin takes off on steroids and gives the crypto bros something to wet their pants about. Buy Your Wall Street Pepe Meme Coins and Do Your Part for the Frog Army To do your part, just go to the Wall Street Pepe website, connect your crypto wallet (we highly recommend Best Wallet), and buy your $WEPE. You can either pay with a credit card or your Ethereum balance. Speaking of which, $ETH is also doing quite well at the moment. It’s just over 3% in the last 24 hours, with a total market cap increase of 88.5% over the same 24-hour period. Of course, the presidential inauguration isn’t for another couple of hours. Once Donald Trump puts his hand on the Bible (and it bursts into flames), watch your crypto balances to see if they shoot up even more. And remember, always do your own research before investing, as the crypto world is notoriously volatile, which is why this is not meant as financial advice.

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Bitcoin Santa Rally Starting Now!! Price Update!! Meme Coins To Buy Next!!

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#Breaking: #Bitcoin Price Jumps as Research Reveals 154 New Millionaires Created Daily in 2024 – Is Wall Street Pepe Next?

Bitcoin Price Jumps as Research Reveals 154 New Millionaires Created Daily in 2024 – Is Wall Street Pepe Next? Read more: https://news.bitcoin.com/bitcoin-price-jumps-as-research-reveals-154-new-millionaires-created-daily-in-2024-is-wall-street-pepe-next/  

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4 Unmissable Moonshots For January 2025

The meme coin bull market is returning this week as projects across the board post huge gains.  This article outlines four meme coins you can’t miss if you want to maximize returns in 2025. Let’s dig in. Wall Street Pepe Wall Street Pepe is a new meme coin that focuses on utility integrations. The project is building a trading insights ecosystem, comprising trading signals, meme coin picks, a…

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10 New Crypto Coins to Invest in for 2025

Similar to traditional startups, new crypto projects can be a great investment. They often possess small valuations, ensuring plenty of room for growth over time. For instance, consider that Bitcoin and Ethereum were originally small-cap projects trading in cents.  

good new crypto to buy

Today, they’re mega-cap behemoths worth thousands of dollars per coin. This guide explores new crypto coins that could produce solid long-term growth. We cover various niches, ranging from staking vaults and DAO-based meme coins to proprietary L2 networks. 

Best New Crypto to Buy for 2025

These are the best new crypto projects to explore right now:

Wall Street Pepe (WEPE) – Our Top Pick for Investors Seeking New Cryptocurrencies With 100x Potential

Crypto All-Stars (STARS) – Earn Staking Rewards on STARS and Popular Meme Coins From Different Ecosystems

Best Wallet (BEST) – Up-and-Coming Crypto Wallet App With Trading and Analysis Features  

Catslap (SLAP) – Top-Trending Cat Token With Slap-to-Earn Rewards and a Low Market Capitalization  

Flockerz (FLOCK) – Decentralized Meme Coin With Holders Voting on Key Proposals to Earn Rewards

Pepe Unchained (PEPU) – Invest in the Next Big Layer-2 Ecosystem With dApps and Meme Coin Launches 

Jupiter (JUP) – Popular Decentralized Exchange for Solana-Based Trading With Advanced Tools

Peanut the Squirrel (PNUT) – Viral Meme Coin With Tier-One Listings and 2,000% Gains Since November 2024

Brett (BRETT) – The Base Network’s Biggest Meme Coin With Over 700,000 Unique Wallet Holders

Ondo (ONDO) – The Market Leader in Real-World Asset Tokenization With Year-to-Date Gains of 900%

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【PEPE系ミーム】Wall Street PepeのICOプレセール購入方法を詳しく解説！Best Walletでの買い方【ミームコイン】【仮...

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Wall Street Pepe: Tiềm Năng Đầu Tư Mới Trong Thế Giới Meme

Crypto All-Stars (STARS) đang thu hút sự chú ý sau khi tăng 43% trong 4 giờ qua, đạt mức giá 0,000933 USD với khối lượng giao dịch lên tới 9 triệu USD. Trong khi đó, dự án tiền điện tử meme Wall Street Pepe (WEPE), với chủ đề độc đáo, cũng đang trở thành điểm sáng, thu về hơn 35,6 triệu USD trong giai đoạn presale. Phân Tích Kỹ Thuật Giá Crypto All-Stars Trên khung thời gian 5 phút, biểu đồ giá…