popcornforone

[popcornforone]

Your Hands On Me

Had this idea just before drifting off, so I take no responsibility for whatever my half-asleep brain came up with. Sweet dreams, darlings 🌙

word count: ~ 600

You’ve only been on a few dates with Frankie so far—a casual dinner, a night out at that dive bar where the jukebox played your favorite song like it knew, a shared popcorn cinema evening where your hands touched once, barely, and you both pretended not to notice.

Tonight, though, he’s in your space.

Insisted on cooking at your place, saying, “You just sit there and look pretty, I got this,” and you obliged, happy to let someone else deal with your sad excuse for a kitchen. He moves through it like he belongs, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in concentration as he plates dessert with surprising care. A rich, chocolate mousse he claims is an old family recipe. “But don’t tell my Tía Rosa I forgot the orange zest.”

You laugh, and he watches the sound bloom on your lips like it’s his favorite part of the meal.

You both sit on the couch after, full and warm and a little buzzed from the wine. Your knees brush, then linger. Chocolate still lingers faintly on your tongue. Frankie leans in slowly, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he’s memorizing the moment before he kisses you.

It starts sweet. Sticky and soft. You both still taste dessert on your lips. But it deepens quickly, like it always wanted to.

Your hand finds the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing skin. You’re not even sure when you shift onto his lap, just that it feels right, necessary, like gravity demanded it. His hands steady you instinctively—one at your waist, the other sliding up your back. The kiss turns breathless, open-mouthed, sinful. You’re both still fully clothed, but everything about the way he touches you makes you feel on fire with want.

And then his hand dips lower. Trails around the waistband of your leggings, waiting. You don’t stop him.

He watches your face carefully as his fingers slip beneath, slow, deliberate. You’re still seated in his lap, lips parting around a gasp as he finds exactly where you need him most. Your fingers curl into the back of his neck, nails grazing skin as you whimper softly, hips shifting to seek out more of the friction he’s giving you.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice low and ragged. “Just like that.”

His touch is firm, sure, but never rushed. He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask for anything in return. He just gives and bathes in the way your body responds, the way your breath hitches, the way you fall apart right there in his lap—still clothed, still clutching his shoulders like he’s the only thing tethering you to this earth.

You come undone with a quiet cry, half-buried in the crook of his neck, lips grazing his jaw. When you finally go still, muscles trembling with aftershocks, a flush rises hot in your cheeks. Embarrassment prickles up your spine but Frankie doesn’t let it settle.

“Hey,” he says, coaxing your face back to his with a hand at your chin, eyes dark but so tender. “That was hot as hell, baby.”

You open your mouth, about to deflect or joke, but he doesn’t let you. Just leans in and kisses you again, slower this time. Reverent.

“If that’s how you sound when it’s just my hand,” he rasps, mouth brushing your ear, “I can’t fuckin’ wait to hear you when I’m inside you.”

Your breath stutters, thighs tightening around him instinctively.

And still he doesn’t push. Just holds you there in his lap, rubbing gentle, grounding circles into your hip, letting your heartbeat calm down while his own pulses hard under your thighs.

thanks for reading 💌

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tags: @speaktothehandpeasants @sxnnimoon @harriedandharassed @kungfucapslock @felix-enthusiast @bergamote-catsandbooks @kakiki3 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @whirlwindrider29 @cuteanimalmama @thesassyteacher91 @christinamadsen @sheepdogchick3 @brittmb115 @greenwitchfromthewoods @diabaroxa @glycerinrivers @carmillahepburn @copperhalfcent @thepilatesprincess @axshadows @letsjustgowiththeflow @kirsteng42 @eroticallywritten @ellenmunn @matchalov3 @canadianfangirl-95 @picketniffler @hotforpedro @noovaarq @warmdragonfly @theanothersherlockian @76bookworm76 @inept-the-magnificent @confusedpuffin @rav3n-pascal22 @misstokyo7love @pasc4lfuzz @cheekychaos28 @perodjarin @enchantedreader @beezusvreeland @lillaydee @underneath-the-sky-again @zooty-and-fruity @hannah9921

[popcornforone]

95 of you think this is worth reading… I think I’m gonna cry

Unprofessional Conduct

A Javier Peña Fan Fic

& you all thought some of my Dave York was unhinged. Yea this is very little plot & very much Peña having his way with the reader. I’m also always so shocked by the response I always get from the fics I write for him. You all lap them up.

Synopsis:- Your using Peña for a story, he wants to use you for something else.

Word Count:-5700

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Every type of sex you could possibly have, Inc oral, a few kinks as well, lack of protection (be safe in real life) chocking, consent isn’t the clearest to start with, angst, rough, passionate, alcohol, swearing. Seriously this makes some of my Dave York tame. There is no plot

Right good luck peoples, I hope your survive. Thanks as always for the read.

Bogotá, 1992.

The hotel lobby smells like stale cigarettes & too much ambition. You’re on the second coffee of the morning, perched at a small table near the window, notebook open, pen tapping absently. You’ve been in Colombia long enough as a journalist to stop flinching at the chaos outside, gun fire no longer a fright, just part of every day life but not long enough to get used to men like him.

You spot him before he sees you. Javier Peña. DEA’s golden boy, or cautionary tale, depending on who you ask. You’ve done your research. You know the stories. Womanizer. Rule breaker. Addicted to danger, & worse, addicted to being wanted, & Jesus Christ, if he doesn’t look the part. Always so rough & ready & handsome oozing sex & smelling of lust.

He walks in like he just rolled out of someone’s bed. What’s not to say he did, you’ve heard about his very methodical way of getting information out of people. Shirt wrinkled, top buttons undone, aviators pushed up into his hair. One hand in his pocket, the other holding a lit cigarette like it owes him something. He doesn’t even look around. Just moves like the whole room’s already watching him. Which You so are. No matter how hard you try not to

He sees you. He Lets a smirk tug at his mouth like he’s been the one expecting you all morning. You don’t stand. You don’t smile. You just arch an eyebrow & let him come to you.

“You’re late,” you say, voice dry like the dust on the streets.

He shrugs, drops into the seat across from you, stretches out like he’s got all the time in the world. “Traffic,” he lies. The smoke curls around him like punctuation. You flick your gaze over him, his hair’s a mess, his lips a little too swollen, & you’re pretty sure the faintest smear of lipstick clings to the edge of his collar. Unbelievable. Yet so attractive.

“You know,” you murmur, uncapping your pen, “most people shower before interviews.”

He grins like it’s a compliment. “Didn’t want to be late, get you even more worked up than you already are.”

You press record on the tiny tape deck between you.

“State your name, rank, & assignment for the record,” you say, eyes flicking to his, not because you need to, but because you like to watch him lie. Also if you keep looking him up & down, you’re afraid you’ll see his length twitch under his jeans. Wondering if his reputation for carrying a big weapon is true. Especially when he sits like this. He leans back, legs spreading wide like the chair was made for it. One arm slung lazily over the backrest, the other bringing the cigarette to his lips. He inhales slow, like he knows you’re watching.

“Javier Peña. DEA. Medellín task force,” he says, voice gravel-smooth and casual. “Assignment? Depends who you ask.”

You scribble something you’ll probably never read again. “Officially,” you prompt.

He grins, smoke slipping from the corner of his mouth. “Officially? I chase bad guys.”

You don’t respond. Just shift in your seat, legs crossed, forcing your tone into something neutral. “How long have you been in-country?” You’re trying to be professional but it’s hard. So…so hard. He flicks ash into the tray, eyes dragging over your blouse before returning to your face,barely.

“Too long,” he mutters. Then, louder: “Three years maybe times a blur now.” You nod, write it down, ignore the way he licks his bottom lip absentmindedly. Or not so absentmindedly.

“In those years, how would you characterize your relationship with the local government?”

His eyebrows lift, cigarette hovering midair. “I’d say… tense. Complicated. A little like this conversation.” His rich brown eyes make contact. This is all fun & games to him.

You narrow your eyes. “This conversation is an interview.”

He leans forward slightly, finally putting out the cigarette. “No, sweetheart. This…”he waves a hand between the two of you, “…is foreplay. You just haven’t admitted it yet.”

You pause, let the tape recorder catch the silence. “I’m not here to sleep with you, Peña.”

“Oh, I know,” he says, smile lazy. “That’s what makes it interesting.” The smug bastard.

You click your pen, deliberately casual. “Let’s stay on topic, Agent Peña.” He raises an eyebrow, like he’s surprised you’re still pretending there is a topic beyond what he wants to do to you. What you’d like to do but not admit.

“Sure,” he says, voice low, almost thoughtful. “But I gotta say…” He leans forward again, eyes dragging down your body, slow & deliberate. The kind of look that burns. “This heat? It’s a killer, even for me. Makes a person sweat in places you don’t talk about in polite company.”

You don’t flinch, don’t blush. But your thighs press just a little tighter together. You curse yourself for it instantly. he sees it. Of course he does. His smirk curves wicked, a flash of teeth, something dangerous in his gaze now.

“See,” he murmurs, voice dropping like molasses, “you sitting there all stiff and proper? Legs tight like that? Makes a man wonder…” He drags his thumb across his bottom lip, slow.”…what you’d sound like if I had my head between your thighs.”

You inhale sharply. Not enough to give him the satisfaction, but enough that your pulse betrays you. You shut your notebook & tut.

“Interview’s over.” He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just tilts his head.

“Hit a nerve?” You rise from your chair, calm, collected, even as your skin is practically humming.

“No,” you say smoothly. “I just don’t fuck interview subjects.”

He laughs, low and pleased. “Good thing I’m not just any subject.”

You toss him a look over your shoulder. “No, Peña. You’re a fucking headline waiting to happen, be it one of glory or a disaster.” You then strut off. Making sure he can see your hips sway. Leaving his imagination to be his company.

The bar’s tucked into a side street near the hotel, dim, loud, & crawling with expats & locals alike, all pretending like the city isn’t on fire outside. It smells like rum, sweat, & desperation. You walk in solo later that evening. The dress clings in all the right places, deep red, strappy, low in the back. You hadn’t planned on being seen. But you knew he’d be here. You’re not above playing your own kind of game, especially with Peña.

You feel him before you see him. Eyes burning holes into your skin from across the bar, from the moment you step through the door.

You don’t turn once you are seated. You order a drink & a glass of water, letting the hem of your dress ride up just a little. A small amount of thigh on show. It takes maybe two minutes before you hear boots behind you, smell the smoke & aftershave & the lingering intoxicating musk of Javi fucking Peña.

He’s close. Closer than he should be.

Smack.

His hand lands firm on your ass. Not subtle. Not accidental. A claim. You whip your head around & find him already grinning, eyes shamelessly dragging down your body like he’s starving.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he drawls, voice thick with smoke & sin. “You wear that for me?”

You arch an eyebrow. “If I’d known you’d still be this much of a dog after a shower, I’d have stayed in.” He chuckles, no shame. The sweat at his temples is fresh, like he walked straight from some backroom deal into this bar & still made time to look good doing it.

“You gonna pretend you didn’t like it?”

You sip your drink, unbothered. “I didn’t say that.” That earns a pause. His eyes narrow slightly, lips parting like he’s about to say something clever… but you cut him off. “But don’t get excited. I’ve got better things to do tonight.” You like the power struggle, it makes you feel good.

“Like what?” he murmurs, stepping in even closer, mouth almost at your ear now. “Write about how bad you wanted me but didn’t have the nerve?”You smirk.

“Oh, I’ve got the nerve, Peña. What I don’t have is the patience to deal with men who think they’re the center of the universe.”

He laughs low, leans in closer. “That a no?”

You tilt your head, eyes locked on his “It’s a not yet.” You murmur. You look him up & down, the game of seduction & chase has started.

He’s crowding you now, close enough that the heat of him crawls over your skin, the bar’s noise fading into static around the edges.

“You know,” he murmurs, eyes raking over you like he’s deciding what part to ruin first, “I’ve been thinking about fucking you since the second i walked into that lobby.”

You don’t flinch. Not at the words. Not at the tone. But your fingers tighten just slightly around your drink. Water. Cold. Unassuming.

You tilt your head. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

He grins, slow and infuriating. “Not when it comes to you, baby.”

That’s your trigger point. You toss the entire contents of your glass straight into his face, ice, water, everything.

The bar goes silent. For a moment.

Peña blinks, dripping, a stunned pause before his smile returns, wider now, & fucking feral. You set the empty glass on the bar with a delicate clink & step back, voice calm as anything. “Cool off.” Then you turn, get off your stool & you walk. No… you strut. Hips swaying, heels clicking across the tiles like gunshots. Every man in that bar watches you walk away. That red dress & your attitude oozing sex. But he is the only one follows.

You don’t see it, but you hear him behind you, casual as hell, dripping water & cockiness, leaning across the bar as he tosses a bill down.

“To cover the mess,” he says. “I’m gonna go rail the shit out of her.”

The hotel hallway hums with cheap lighting & tension. Mosquitoes buzzing in the evening heat. Your heels echo down the carpeted corridor, hips still swinging like you’re on a goddamn runway, every step deliberate. You don’t look back right away. But you feel him there. Heavy boots. Slow stride. A predator, dragging the scent of smoke & sex behind him. You glance over your shoulder once, just enough to catch the way his eyes trail down your back, linger at the hem of your dress. The way his jaw clenches like he’s holding back something dangerous.

By the time you reach your room, you know he’s seconds behind you. Just like you planned without really doing so. You unlock the door slow, let it creak open a few inches. You step into the frame, tilt your head just enough so he knows it’s an invitation. One any man wouldn’t resist, but one you know Peña will see as a must. He strides along side to the open door. You grab his shirt. Fistful of fabric, still slightly damp, still smelling like every terrible choice you’ve ever wanted to make. You pull him into your room, slam the door shut behind him with your heel, & before he can speak, You’re on him.

Mouth to mouth. Hot. Desperate. Teeth & tongue & everything he’s been begging for since you walked into his life mere hours ago. Everything you’ve wonder this man would give you is about to come to fruition. He groans into your mouth, hands already on your hips, gripping tight, pulling you against the hard line of his body like he needs it to breathe.

“Fuck,” he gasps, breaking the kiss just long enough to murmur against your throat. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You shove him back against the door, breathing heavy. “You like it rough, Peña?”

His laugh is pure sin, fingers dragging up your thighs. “I like it real.”

You drag his mouth back to yours, nails scraping his scalp as you take everything you want, everything you’ve been waiting for. He is going to let you own it… for now.

Your back hits the door with a soft thud as his mouth crashes into yours again, messier this time. Starved. He’s already got one hand tangled in your hair, the other dragging up your thigh, bunching your dress higher & higher like he’s seconds from just ripping it off. Teasing the lace of your tiny panties.

“You know,” he pants against your lips, fingers slipping beneath the lace, he is ever the tease, “I’ve been hard for you since this morning.”

You bite his bottom lip, just enough to make him hiss. “Yeah?” you breathe, pulling back just enough to look at him, your eyes dark & heavy with want. “I’ve been wet for you since you lit that fucking cigarette.”

That breaks him. He growls, actually growls, grabbing you by the hips & spinning you around, backing you toward the bed without breaking the kiss. You’re both pulling at clothes now, buttons popping, zippers sliding, breath catching.

“Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me,” he mutters, voice wrecked, dragging your dress down your body like it personally offended him. Looking at your exposed breast, knowing he has more than that to plunder tonight. “Watching you sit there all professional, legs crossed, mouth smart, fuck. I wanted to bend you over that chair.” He’s wondering what else your smart mouth is capable of.

“You should’ve tried,” you gasp, yanking his shirt open, buttons scattering across the floor. “I would’ve let you.”

He freezes for a second, eyes locked to yours, something like pure hunger flickering behind the cocky grin. Then he’s on you again, tongue in your mouth, hands everywhere, grip rough like he needs to memorize every inch of you with his palms. Your sodden panties hit the floor.

“Jesus,” he mutters, sliding his fingers through your slick. “You’re soaked.” You moan into his neck, nails digging into his back.

“All fucking day,” you whisper, biting down on his collarbone. “Thinking about your mouth. Your cock. Wondering if you fuck as dirty as you flirt.” He grabs your face, presses his forehead to yours, breath ragged.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, voice gravel. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name.” You smirk, pulling him down onto the bed with you. Ready to be his for one night of passion & lust.

“Good. I’d rather scream yours anyway.”

He looks down at you, naked, sprawled out beneath him, chest rising fast, legs parted just enough to be an invitation, but not enough to give it up easy. Tonight your Peña slut.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, dragging his eyes over your body like he might never see anything better. “You’re a goddamn masterpiece.”

You reach for him, palm sliding down his chest, lower. “Then stop staring & get your clothes off, Peña.”

He grins, slow and filthy. “So fucking bossy.”

“Can you handle it?” His pants hit the floor.

Fuck he’s big. Hard. Heavy in his hand as he strokes himself slowly, eyes locked on yours.

“Oh, I can handle it, baby,” he growls. “Question is sexy… can you?”

Before you can shoot back, he grabs your hips, flips you onto your stomach in one smooth, practiced motion.

You gasp, breath catching as he presses a knee between your thighs, dragging your ass up until you’re on all fours.

One hand presses firm between your shoulder blades. The other drags over your hip, down to your inner thigh, fingers slicking through your wetness with a low, pleased groan.

“This,” he says, lining himself up behind you, voice thick with filth, “is how I’ve wanted you all fucking day. Back arched. Dripping. Mine.”

& then he pushes in. Deep. Hard. All the fucking way, with no condom. You cry out, fingers gripping the sheets, the stretch delicious & brutal.

“Fuck…Javi…”

He gives you no mercy. No time to adjust. Just rocks into you hard & fast, hips snapping against your ass, skin slapping skin in the dark, sticky heat of the room.

“You feel that?” he grits, breath hot against your neck as he leans over you, fucking deeper. “This cock’s gonna ruin you.”

“You talk too much,” you gasp, moaning as he hits that spot again & again & again. It will soon be your unraveling. His hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back so your mouth opens on a ragged moan.

“& you fucking love it,” he growls, fucking you harder. “You love being fucked like this, don’t you?”

You try to nod, try to speak, but it’s all moan, yes, more. He pulls out suddenly, flipping you again, dragging you to the edge of the bed by your thighs. You barely catch your breath before he’s deep inside you again, this time, missionary, but vicious. Legs spread wide, his hand around your throat just enough to make your eyes flutter.

“Want you to look at me when you cum,” he whispers. “Wanna see that pretty face fall apart.” You’re so close you can barely breathe.

As your orgasm hits, when your body shatters beneath him, he follows with a groan, deep & guttural, spilling into you as he buries himself to the hilt.

The room falls silent. Agent Peña falls silent. A rarity. Just breath. Sweat. The slow collapse of bodies against each other. You’ve never cum like this.

What this man has just done to you is leading you both to something that feels dangerously close to obsession. He’s collapsed beside you, arm flung over his face, chest heaving like he just ran ten miles through a warzone. Which, in a way, he did. You’re on your side, watching him, skin flushed & glowing in the low light. You lean in slow, lips brushing his neck, soft at first, then open-mouthed, tongue trailing along the salty line of his throat. He hums in delight, his semi twitching.

You whisper against his skin, voice raspy & smug, “That was the best foreplay I’ve ever had.” He laughs, barely. It’s more like a choked noise, like he can’t believe you still have the ability to speak. Then he feels it.

Your hand. Sliding down your own stomach. Between your thighs. You don’t look away. You watch him as your fingers slip into the wet mess he left behind. As you touch yourself slow, lazy, like you’ve got all the time in the world & zero patience.

“Oooh fuck” you whine. His eyes go wide, then dark. Your dainty hand bringing you such pleasure.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasps, propping himself up on one elbow. “You trying to kill me?”

You moan softly, hips arching off the sheets. “You said you could handle it.”

He watches your fingers move, as they sink in & out of your cunt, his lips parting, pupils blown, jaw tight with need. As you work yourself up breathless, teasing, wicked you call him out.

“Don’t just stare, Peña. Get back in & make me come on your cock this time.” He’s already climbing on top of you before you finish the sentence. You don’t even really get the chance to finish stroking yourself before he’s grabbing your wrist, sucking your fingers into his mouth like he’s starving for the taste of you. Then he’s rolling you over gently, but with purpose, onto your side. One arm hooked under your head. The other gripping your thigh, hiking it up over his hip.

“Hold that leg right there,” he murmurs, voice dark & dangerous, dragging his cock along your slick folds. “Try not to let it drop.” You nod, breath catching.

Once again he’s inside you. Slow. Deep. Devastating. Delicious.

You cry out, face pressed to the pillow, fingers clawing at the sheets as he pushes all the way in, filling you so completely it’s overwhelming.

“Oh my fucking god,” you gasp. Still raw from his first rampage. You take his girth so well.

Javi groans behind you, mouth pressed to your shoulder as he starts to move, grinding in slow, punishing strokes that have you moaning with every thrust.

“Listen to you,” he pants, hips snapping into you. “Whimpering like a little slut. You like this, don’t you?” You nod frantically, body already trembling. “You like my cock so deep you can’t think straight. You like being fucked like this, used like this.”

“Y….yeah,” you breathe, voice high & shaky. “I love it… fuck, I love it.”

His hand slides down your stomach, between your legs, fingers finding your clit & circling just hard enough to make your back arch. Best fingers in the world.

“That’s right,” he growls in your ear. “You’re my filthy little slut. Letting me do whatever the fuck I want to this perfect body. Letting me fuck you open.” Your hand shoots out, grabbing the sheets as your legs start to shake. “You gonna cum for me again, baby?” he hisses. “Gonna cream all over my cock like the good little whore you are?”

“Javi!… i…fuck.., I’m… fuck!”

He tightens his grip, thrusts sharper now, messier.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say whose cock you need.”

“Yours…fuck, yours, Javi….please, please… fuck god….” You fall apart around him, again. Peña doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. He just keeps fucking you through it, groaning into your skin like he’s losing his mind.

“God, I’m gonna fill you up,” he moans. “Gonna make sure you feel me dripping out of you for days.” His own ecstasy takes over, both more than satisfied.

You’re both still trembling from the last orgasm when he rolls you over again,this time, flat on your back.

“You done?” you pant, breathless but grinning. He just smirks, grabs your thighs, & starts crawling up the bed. Sheets already stained.

“Not even fucking close.” He swings a leg over you, straddling your chest as he pulls you by the hips, dragging your soaked pussy to his mouth.

You get the hint real fast. He bends down, tongue already deep between your folds. You know what he wants & you take his cock in your mouth like you’ve been waiting for it.

It’s chaos.

Hot, wet, filthy chaos.

You moan around him the second his tongue hits your clit, & he groans into you when you suck him deep, throat fluttering around the thickness of him. He fucks you with his tongue like he wants to drown in you. Messy. No rhythm. Just need. You match him, hand wrapped tight around his shaft, lips dragging down his length while your other hand grips his thigh hard enough to bruise. Every time you moan, he jerks. Every time he groans into your cunt, you suck harder.

You’re both chasing it now. Fast. Raw. Feral.

He licks a filthy circle around your clit, then sucks, hard. You choke on his cock with a cry.

“Oh fuck,” he groans against you, voice wrecked. “That’s it, fuck, baby, keep moaning like that, make me cum in that smart mouth.. fuck”

Your legs start to shake again at his words. Your pleasure taking over. You try to hold back. Try to stay in the game. But his tongue is relentless. He knows your body now, knows the exact angle, the exact pressure, the exact…

You break.

You cry out, mouth full, body clenching, soaking his face as you come hard, grinding into his mouth without shame.

He loves it & He shudders. His self control gone on this night of phenomenal passion.

You feel it the moment he comes, thick spurts down your throat, his groan muffled into your cunt as you both fall apart at the same time. It’s messy. It’s loud & it’s perfect.

The air’s thick with sex & the scent of each other. The sheets are wrecked. Everything’s damp. You feel him shift behind you, arms sliding around your waist, one leg tossed over yours like he’s not planning on letting you go anytime soon. He nuzzles into your neck, stubble scraping soft. His hand drifts up your ribs, slow & lazy. Finds your breast.

“You gonna behave now?” he murmurs, voice low & smug, fingers teasing over your erecting nipples, barely touching. “Or do I need to fuck it out of you again?”

You hum, turning your face toward him with a smirk. “Baby, I don’t do behave.” He chuckles, deep & dirty. Then he rolls you onto your back, draping himself half over you, head dropping low to your chest. When his mouth closes around your nipple, slow, wet, tongue circling & sucking gentle but hungry, your whole body arches like you hadn’t just been ruined moments ago.

“You’ve got no fucking idea,” he mutters, kissing across your chest, “how long I’ve wanted this.”You bite your lip, fingers sinking into his hair as he keeps sucking, licking, dragging his teeth just barely across your skin.

“Javi…fuck…”

He glances up, cocky smirk painted across his mouth. “I could do this all night,” he says, moving to your other breast, licking a slow stripe before sucking hard, making your toes curl. “Taste every inch of you. Make you cum on demand just from my mouth.”

You groan, already getting needy again.

“Then do it,” you whisper. His tongue flicks. He grins.

“Oh, I fucking will.”

You’re still flushed, your body buzzing, nipples wet from his mouth, but you’re not done. Not even close. You muster up the strength to push him back against the pillows with a wicked grin, straddling his chest & crawling up until your soaked pussy is hovering over his mouth. He groans, looking up at you like he’s found religion.

“Fuck,” he mutters, licking his lips. “This how you say thank you?”

You grin. “This is how I shut you up.” Then you lower yourself onto his face. & god, does he go to work.

His hands grip your thighs like he’s anchoring himself to the moment. Tongue flat, then teasing, then fucking into you while you grind down, head thrown back, fingers tangled in his hair like you’re using him & you so fucking are.

“Just like that,” you pant, hips rocking. “Fuck, Javi…don’t stop… don’t you fucking stop…” You ride his mouth until your thighs are shaking, until you’re grinding down on his nose like you need it to breathe, until you cum all over his face once again, crying out & clenching around nothing, just friction & pleasure. You barely have time to come down before he flips you again, strength & desperation colliding as he positions you over his cock.

“My turn baby, gonna fuck you til it sticks”

You grab his jaw, lips brushing his. “I want all of you. Every filthy fucking drop.” That’s all it takes. You slide down, taking him deep in one slow, obscene thrust. You both moan in unison , long & wrecked, as he fills you to the hilt.

Then you start to ride. Hard. Fast. Passionate. You set the pace, bouncing on his cock, hands braced on his chest, his name falling from your lips in messy, breathless gasps. He’s losing his senses under you, gripping your hips, fucking up into you with every thrust, the wet sound of skin on skin echoing through the room.

“You feel that?” he groans. “That’s my cock stretching you out, raw, deep, just how you like it. Just how little sluts like it in their tight cunts” You cry out, back arched, head thrown back.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he grits, pounding up into you. “So tight, so wet, mine.”

You’re both unraveling again, together. Your orgasm hits like lightning, shaking through your body as you grind down onto him, & he’s right behind you, grunting, cursing, coming hard as he spills into you, raw,deep & filthy.

You collapse onto his chest, both of you drenched in sweat, hearts racing. a quick glance but neither of you want to stop. Despite your body’s needing a break.

It’s quiet now. The only sounds are the slow ripple of water, your soft breaths, & the occasional clink of the wine glass he insisted on bringing into the tub with you. You’re both sunk deep in the warm water, legs tangled, your back pressed to his chest, head resting against his shoulder. You both thought this would be the best way to recover, to heal those sensitive spots, but it’s just unleashes more desire.

He’s inside you again, slow, lazy, just rocking, the barest thrusts of his hips under the water as his hands trace your stomach, your thighs, your breasts, like he can’t stop touching you. It’s not about the orgasm now. It’s all about the feeling. The stretch. The intimacy. The weight of his cock still so deep inside you it makes your breath catch. How it pinched with the stretch, but you’ve gone past the point of caring. Peña is yours & you will never have another night quite like tonight ever again. He nuzzles your neck, pressing soft, wet kisses just below your ear.

Then he laughs, low, dark, wrecked. “This is the filthiest night of my life,” he whispers, slowly rolling his hips again, just enough for you to feel the drag of him inside you.

You smirk, eyes fluttering shut. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He groans. “Oh, it’s the best fucking thing.”

His hand moves up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your still sensitive nipple while he sinks in a little deeper, slower, the water rippling with every movement.

“I’ve never been this desperate for someone,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust & sleep. “Can’t get enough of you. Still hard. Still inside you. & I’m already thinking about the next time.” You shift your hips, pressing back into him, just enough to make him hiss through his teeth.

“You’re insatiable,” you tease, glancing at him over your shoulder. He grabs your chin, turns your face, kisses you slow and dirty.

“you fucking love it.”

After he’s cum inside you again, you stand up in the tub, slow & deliberate, water streaming off every inch of you skin. No towel. No hesitation. Feeling the sexiest you have ever been. Just the cool air meeting the heat of your body as you step out, glistening & glorious. Javi watches you like he’s in a trance, leaned back in the water, chest heaving, cock already twitching to life again at the sight of you walking away, bare, confident, every step a taunt.

“You’re tryin’ to fucking kill me,” he mutters.

You glances back over her shoulder, with a wicked smirk. “Then keep up, Agent.”

That’s it. He’s out of the tub in two seconds, dripping water all over the tile, stalking after you with that look in his eyes, that need.

By the time you’re halfway to the bed, he grabs you by the hips, bends you forward over the mattress, & doesn’t even pretend to wait. No teasing. No warning. Foreplay a thing of the past. Just raw, slick heat as he sinks into you from behind in one deep, filthy thrust.

“Fuck,” he growls, fingers digging into your hips, already pounding into you like he’s been hard for hours. “You don’t even dry off? You’re that desperate for me to fuck you again?” You moan, hands gripping the sheets, taking him deeper.

“I knew you’d follow,” you breathe. “Knew you wouldn’t last.” He slaps you damp ass…hard, then fucks you deeper, faster, the sound of your bodies echoing in the dark, wet skin slapping, filthy moans tangled together.

“Fucking right I followed,” he growls. “Couldn’t let that perfect, wet pussy walk away. Not when I still needed to ruin you one more time.”

He twists your hair, pulling her head back so your moan shatters the air.

“You feel that?” he grits, hips snapping into you. “That’s me still owning you. Still buried in this tight little cunt like I fucking live here.”

You cum again, soaked & wrecked, & he follows seconds later, hips jerking as he spills into you, moaning your name like a prayer. You’ve both lost count of your number of orgasms now.

You both collapse onto the bed together, tangled, wet, panting, & completely destroyed once again.

Morning breaks soft through the thin curtains, casting a golden haze over the wrecked hotel bed. The sheets are half on the floor, both their bodies still bare, twisted up in sleep & heat.

You blink awake slowly, head heavy, body sore in the best kind of way…then you see him.

Javier Peña.

Flat on his back. One arm behind his head. The other wrapped around his cock, already semi hard, lazily stroking himself, eyes half lidded & staring at the ceiling like he’s reliving every filthy thing you did to him the night before. Your lips curve.

“You really starting without me?” you murmur, voice still husky from sleep.

He glances over, smirks. “Didn’t wanna wake you.”

You slide closer, fingers trailing down his stomach, then wrapping around his hand, guiding his strokes a little faster.

“Too late for that,” you whisper, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. “Who says we’re done?” He groans, low & already needy again, his hips twitching as your hand fully replaces his, slow and teasing.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut. You straddle his thigh, sliding your slick center along his skin with a grin.

“Nah,” you whisper, lips brushing his. “I’m just making sure you never forget me.” from the way he looks up at you, completely ruined, completely obsessed, you know he won’t.

Not for a long, long time.

You slowly let him penetrate you. Raw, hard & passionate. Maybe this wasn’t just one night. But as you ride his cock as the new day starts, you both know it’s going to begin with him praising your cunt & the word fuck bouncing off the wall of your hotel room from your exhausted mouths.

[popcornforone]

TIM!!!

another one >:)

reference under the cut:

[popcornforone]

The Reed Richards / Mr Fantastic Masterlist

He’s finally gonna be on our big screen, we get to see how far he can stretch, how good a husband & dad he will be & hopefully save the world in the most handsome 1960s way possible

Possibilities

Dreamy

Just a Cover

[popcornforone]

Unprofessional Conduct

A Javier Peña Fan Fic

& you all thought some of my Dave York was unhinged. Yea this is very little plot & very much Peña having his way with the reader. I’m also always so shocked by the response I always get from the fics I write for him. You all lap them up.

Synopsis:- Your using Peña for a story, he wants to use you for something else.

Word Count:-5700

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Every type of sex you could possibly have, Inc oral, a few kinks as well, lack of protection (be safe in real life) chocking, consent isn’t the clearest to start with, angst, rough, passionate, alcohol, swearing. Seriously this makes some of my Dave York tame. There is no plot

Right good luck peoples, I hope your survive. Thanks as always for the read.

Bogotá, 1992.

The hotel lobby smells like stale cigarettes & too much ambition. You’re on the second coffee of the morning, perched at a small table near the window, notebook open, pen tapping absently. You’ve been in Colombia long enough as a journalist to stop flinching at the chaos outside, gun fire no longer a fright, just part of every day life but not long enough to get used to men like him.

You spot him before he sees you. Javier Peña. DEA’s golden boy, or cautionary tale, depending on who you ask. You’ve done your research. You know the stories. Womanizer. Rule breaker. Addicted to danger, & worse, addicted to being wanted, & Jesus Christ, if he doesn’t look the part. Always so rough & ready & handsome oozing sex & smelling of lust.

He walks in like he just rolled out of someone’s bed. What’s not to say he did, you’ve heard about his very methodical way of getting information out of people. Shirt wrinkled, top buttons undone, aviators pushed up into his hair. One hand in his pocket, the other holding a lit cigarette like it owes him something. He doesn’t even look around. Just moves like the whole room’s already watching him. Which You so are. No matter how hard you try not to

He sees you. He Lets a smirk tug at his mouth like he’s been the one expecting you all morning. You don’t stand. You don’t smile. You just arch an eyebrow & let him come to you.

“You’re late,” you say, voice dry like the dust on the streets.

He shrugs, drops into the seat across from you, stretches out like he’s got all the time in the world. “Traffic,” he lies. The smoke curls around him like punctuation. You flick your gaze over him, his hair’s a mess, his lips a little too swollen, & you’re pretty sure the faintest smear of lipstick clings to the edge of his collar. Unbelievable. Yet so attractive.

“You know,” you murmur, uncapping your pen, “most people shower before interviews.”

He grins like it’s a compliment. “Didn’t want to be late, get you even more worked up than you already are.”

You press record on the tiny tape deck between you.

“State your name, rank, & assignment for the record,” you say, eyes flicking to his, not because you need to, but because you like to watch him lie. Also if you keep looking him up & down, you’re afraid you’ll see his length twitch under his jeans. Wondering if his reputation for carrying a big weapon is true. Especially when he sits like this. He leans back, legs spreading wide like the chair was made for it. One arm slung lazily over the backrest, the other bringing the cigarette to his lips. He inhales slow, like he knows you’re watching.

“Javier Peña. DEA. Medellín task force,” he says, voice gravel-smooth and casual. “Assignment? Depends who you ask.”

You scribble something you’ll probably never read again. “Officially,” you prompt.

He grins, smoke slipping from the corner of his mouth. “Officially? I chase bad guys.”

You don’t respond. Just shift in your seat, legs crossed, forcing your tone into something neutral. “How long have you been in-country?” You’re trying to be professional but it’s hard. So…so hard. He flicks ash into the tray, eyes dragging over your blouse before returning to your face,barely.

“Too long,” he mutters. Then, louder: “Three years maybe times a blur now.” You nod, write it down, ignore the way he licks his bottom lip absentmindedly. Or not so absentmindedly.

“In those years, how would you characterize your relationship with the local government?”

His eyebrows lift, cigarette hovering midair. “I’d say… tense. Complicated. A little like this conversation.” His rich brown eyes make contact. This is all fun & games to him.

You narrow your eyes. “This conversation is an interview.”

He leans forward slightly, finally putting out the cigarette. “No, sweetheart. This…”he waves a hand between the two of you, “…is foreplay. You just haven’t admitted it yet.”

You pause, let the tape recorder catch the silence. “I’m not here to sleep with you, Peña.”

“Oh, I know,” he says, smile lazy. “That’s what makes it interesting.” The smug bastard.

You click your pen, deliberately casual. “Let’s stay on topic, Agent Peña.” He raises an eyebrow, like he’s surprised you’re still pretending there is a topic beyond what he wants to do to you. What you’d like to do but not admit.

“Sure,” he says, voice low, almost thoughtful. “But I gotta say…” He leans forward again, eyes dragging down your body, slow & deliberate. The kind of look that burns. “This heat? It’s a killer, even for me. Makes a person sweat in places you don’t talk about in polite company.”

You don’t flinch, don’t blush. But your thighs press just a little tighter together. You curse yourself for it instantly. he sees it. Of course he does. His smirk curves wicked, a flash of teeth, something dangerous in his gaze now.

“See,” he murmurs, voice dropping like molasses, “you sitting there all stiff and proper? Legs tight like that? Makes a man wonder…” He drags his thumb across his bottom lip, slow.”…what you’d sound like if I had my head between your thighs.”

You inhale sharply. Not enough to give him the satisfaction, but enough that your pulse betrays you. You shut your notebook & tut.

“Interview’s over.” He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just tilts his head.

“Hit a nerve?” You rise from your chair, calm, collected, even as your skin is practically humming.

“No,” you say smoothly. “I just don’t fuck interview subjects.”

He laughs, low and pleased. “Good thing I’m not just any subject.”

You toss him a look over your shoulder. “No, Peña. You’re a fucking headline waiting to happen, be it one of glory or a disaster.” You then strut off. Making sure he can see your hips sway. Leaving his imagination to be his company.

The bar’s tucked into a side street near the hotel, dim, loud, & crawling with expats & locals alike, all pretending like the city isn’t on fire outside. It smells like rum, sweat, & desperation. You walk in solo later that evening. The dress clings in all the right places, deep red, strappy, low in the back. You hadn’t planned on being seen. But you knew he’d be here. You’re not above playing your own kind of game, especially with Peña.

You feel him before you see him. Eyes burning holes into your skin from across the bar, from the moment you step through the door.

You don’t turn once you are seated. You order a drink & a glass of water, letting the hem of your dress ride up just a little. A small amount of thigh on show. It takes maybe two minutes before you hear boots behind you, smell the smoke & aftershave & the lingering intoxicating musk of Javi fucking Peña.

He’s close. Closer than he should be.

Smack.

His hand lands firm on your ass. Not subtle. Not accidental. A claim. You whip your head around & find him already grinning, eyes shamelessly dragging down your body like he’s starving.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he drawls, voice thick with smoke & sin. “You wear that for me?”

You arch an eyebrow. “If I’d known you’d still be this much of a dog after a shower, I’d have stayed in.” He chuckles, no shame. The sweat at his temples is fresh, like he walked straight from some backroom deal into this bar & still made time to look good doing it.

“You gonna pretend you didn’t like it?”

You sip your drink, unbothered. “I didn’t say that.” That earns a pause. His eyes narrow slightly, lips parting like he’s about to say something clever… but you cut him off. “But don’t get excited. I’ve got better things to do tonight.” You like the power struggle, it makes you feel good.

“Like what?” he murmurs, stepping in even closer, mouth almost at your ear now. “Write about how bad you wanted me but didn’t have the nerve?”You smirk.

“Oh, I’ve got the nerve, Peña. What I don’t have is the patience to deal with men who think they’re the center of the universe.”

He laughs low, leans in closer. “That a no?”

You tilt your head, eyes locked on his “It’s a not yet.” You murmur. You look him up & down, the game of seduction & chase has started.

He’s crowding you now, close enough that the heat of him crawls over your skin, the bar’s noise fading into static around the edges.

“You know,” he murmurs, eyes raking over you like he’s deciding what part to ruin first, “I’ve been thinking about fucking you since the second i walked into that lobby.”

You don’t flinch. Not at the words. Not at the tone. But your fingers tighten just slightly around your drink. Water. Cold. Unassuming.

You tilt your head. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

He grins, slow and infuriating. “Not when it comes to you, baby.”

That’s your trigger point. You toss the entire contents of your glass straight into his face, ice, water, everything.

The bar goes silent. For a moment.

Peña blinks, dripping, a stunned pause before his smile returns, wider now, & fucking feral. You set the empty glass on the bar with a delicate clink & step back, voice calm as anything. “Cool off.” Then you turn, get off your stool & you walk. No… you strut. Hips swaying, heels clicking across the tiles like gunshots. Every man in that bar watches you walk away. That red dress & your attitude oozing sex. But he is the only one follows.

You don’t see it, but you hear him behind you, casual as hell, dripping water & cockiness, leaning across the bar as he tosses a bill down.

“To cover the mess,” he says. “I’m gonna go rail the shit out of her.”

The hotel hallway hums with cheap lighting & tension. Mosquitoes buzzing in the evening heat. Your heels echo down the carpeted corridor, hips still swinging like you’re on a goddamn runway, every step deliberate. You don’t look back right away. But you feel him there. Heavy boots. Slow stride. A predator, dragging the scent of smoke & sex behind him. You glance over your shoulder once, just enough to catch the way his eyes trail down your back, linger at the hem of your dress. The way his jaw clenches like he’s holding back something dangerous.

By the time you reach your room, you know he’s seconds behind you. Just like you planned without really doing so. You unlock the door slow, let it creak open a few inches. You step into the frame, tilt your head just enough so he knows it’s an invitation. One any man wouldn’t resist, but one you know Peña will see as a must. He strides along side to the open door. You grab his shirt. Fistful of fabric, still slightly damp, still smelling like every terrible choice you’ve ever wanted to make. You pull him into your room, slam the door shut behind him with your heel, & before he can speak, You’re on him.

Mouth to mouth. Hot. Desperate. Teeth & tongue & everything he’s been begging for since you walked into his life mere hours ago. Everything you’ve wonder this man would give you is about to come to fruition. He groans into your mouth, hands already on your hips, gripping tight, pulling you against the hard line of his body like he needs it to breathe.

“Fuck,” he gasps, breaking the kiss just long enough to murmur against your throat. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You shove him back against the door, breathing heavy. “You like it rough, Peña?”

His laugh is pure sin, fingers dragging up your thighs. “I like it real.”

You drag his mouth back to yours, nails scraping his scalp as you take everything you want, everything you’ve been waiting for. He is going to let you own it… for now.

Your back hits the door with a soft thud as his mouth crashes into yours again, messier this time. Starved. He’s already got one hand tangled in your hair, the other dragging up your thigh, bunching your dress higher & higher like he’s seconds from just ripping it off. Teasing the lace of your tiny panties.

“You know,” he pants against your lips, fingers slipping beneath the lace, he is ever the tease, “I’ve been hard for you since this morning.”

You bite his bottom lip, just enough to make him hiss. “Yeah?” you breathe, pulling back just enough to look at him, your eyes dark & heavy with want. “I’ve been wet for you since you lit that fucking cigarette.”

That breaks him. He growls, actually growls, grabbing you by the hips & spinning you around, backing you toward the bed without breaking the kiss. You’re both pulling at clothes now, buttons popping, zippers sliding, breath catching.

“Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me,” he mutters, voice wrecked, dragging your dress down your body like it personally offended him. Looking at your exposed breast, knowing he has more than that to plunder tonight. “Watching you sit there all professional, legs crossed, mouth smart, fuck. I wanted to bend you over that chair.” He’s wondering what else your smart mouth is capable of.

“You should’ve tried,” you gasp, yanking his shirt open, buttons scattering across the floor. “I would’ve let you.”

He freezes for a second, eyes locked to yours, something like pure hunger flickering behind the cocky grin. Then he’s on you again, tongue in your mouth, hands everywhere, grip rough like he needs to memorize every inch of you with his palms. Your sodden panties hit the floor.

“Jesus,” he mutters, sliding his fingers through your slick. “You’re soaked.” You moan into his neck, nails digging into his back.

“All fucking day,” you whisper, biting down on his collarbone. “Thinking about your mouth. Your cock. Wondering if you fuck as dirty as you flirt.” He grabs your face, presses his forehead to yours, breath ragged.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, voice gravel. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name.” You smirk, pulling him down onto the bed with you. Ready to be his for one night of passion & lust.

“Good. I’d rather scream yours anyway.”

He looks down at you, naked, sprawled out beneath him, chest rising fast, legs parted just enough to be an invitation, but not enough to give it up easy. Tonight your Peña slut.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, dragging his eyes over your body like he might never see anything better. “You’re a goddamn masterpiece.”

You reach for him, palm sliding down his chest, lower. “Then stop staring & get your clothes off, Peña.”

He grins, slow and filthy. “So fucking bossy.”

“Can you handle it?” His pants hit the floor.

Fuck he’s big. Hard. Heavy in his hand as he strokes himself slowly, eyes locked on yours.

“Oh, I can handle it, baby,” he growls. “Question is sexy… can you?”

Before you can shoot back, he grabs your hips, flips you onto your stomach in one smooth, practiced motion.

You gasp, breath catching as he presses a knee between your thighs, dragging your ass up until you’re on all fours.

One hand presses firm between your shoulder blades. The other drags over your hip, down to your inner thigh, fingers slicking through your wetness with a low, pleased groan.

“This,” he says, lining himself up behind you, voice thick with filth, “is how I’ve wanted you all fucking day. Back arched. Dripping. Mine.”

& then he pushes in. Deep. Hard. All the fucking way, with no condom. You cry out, fingers gripping the sheets, the stretch delicious & brutal.

“Fuck…Javi…”

He gives you no mercy. No time to adjust. Just rocks into you hard & fast, hips snapping against your ass, skin slapping skin in the dark, sticky heat of the room.

“You feel that?” he grits, breath hot against your neck as he leans over you, fucking deeper. “This cock’s gonna ruin you.”

“You talk too much,” you gasp, moaning as he hits that spot again & again & again. It will soon be your unraveling. His hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back so your mouth opens on a ragged moan.

“& you fucking love it,” he growls, fucking you harder. “You love being fucked like this, don’t you?”

You try to nod, try to speak, but it’s all moan, yes, more. He pulls out suddenly, flipping you again, dragging you to the edge of the bed by your thighs. You barely catch your breath before he’s deep inside you again, this time, missionary, but vicious. Legs spread wide, his hand around your throat just enough to make your eyes flutter.

“Want you to look at me when you cum,” he whispers. “Wanna see that pretty face fall apart.” You’re so close you can barely breathe.

As your orgasm hits, when your body shatters beneath him, he follows with a groan, deep & guttural, spilling into you as he buries himself to the hilt.

The room falls silent. Agent Peña falls silent. A rarity. Just breath. Sweat. The slow collapse of bodies against each other. You’ve never cum like this.

What this man has just done to you is leading you both to something that feels dangerously close to obsession. He’s collapsed beside you, arm flung over his face, chest heaving like he just ran ten miles through a warzone. Which, in a way, he did. You’re on your side, watching him, skin flushed & glowing in the low light. You lean in slow, lips brushing his neck, soft at first, then open-mouthed, tongue trailing along the salty line of his throat. He hums in delight, his semi twitching.

You whisper against his skin, voice raspy & smug, “That was the best foreplay I’ve ever had.” He laughs, barely. It’s more like a choked noise, like he can’t believe you still have the ability to speak. Then he feels it.

Your hand. Sliding down your own stomach. Between your thighs. You don’t look away. You watch him as your fingers slip into the wet mess he left behind. As you touch yourself slow, lazy, like you’ve got all the time in the world & zero patience.

“Oooh fuck” you whine. His eyes go wide, then dark. Your dainty hand bringing you such pleasure.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasps, propping himself up on one elbow. “You trying to kill me?”

You moan softly, hips arching off the sheets. “You said you could handle it.”

He watches your fingers move, as they sink in & out of your cunt, his lips parting, pupils blown, jaw tight with need. As you work yourself up breathless, teasing, wicked you call him out.

“Don’t just stare, Peña. Get back in & make me come on your cock this time.” He’s already climbing on top of you before you finish the sentence. You don’t even really get the chance to finish stroking yourself before he’s grabbing your wrist, sucking your fingers into his mouth like he’s starving for the taste of you. Then he’s rolling you over gently, but with purpose, onto your side. One arm hooked under your head. The other gripping your thigh, hiking it up over his hip.

“Hold that leg right there,” he murmurs, voice dark & dangerous, dragging his cock along your slick folds. “Try not to let it drop.” You nod, breath catching.

Once again he’s inside you. Slow. Deep. Devastating. Delicious.

You cry out, face pressed to the pillow, fingers clawing at the sheets as he pushes all the way in, filling you so completely it’s overwhelming.

“Oh my fucking god,” you gasp. Still raw from his first rampage. You take his girth so well.

Javi groans behind you, mouth pressed to your shoulder as he starts to move, grinding in slow, punishing strokes that have you moaning with every thrust.

“Listen to you,” he pants, hips snapping into you. “Whimpering like a little slut. You like this, don’t you?” You nod frantically, body already trembling. “You like my cock so deep you can’t think straight. You like being fucked like this, used like this.”

“Y….yeah,” you breathe, voice high & shaky. “I love it… fuck, I love it.”

His hand slides down your stomach, between your legs, fingers finding your clit & circling just hard enough to make your back arch. Best fingers in the world.

“That’s right,” he growls in your ear. “You’re my filthy little slut. Letting me do whatever the fuck I want to this perfect body. Letting me fuck you open.” Your hand shoots out, grabbing the sheets as your legs start to shake. “You gonna cum for me again, baby?” he hisses. “Gonna cream all over my cock like the good little whore you are?”

“Javi!… i…fuck.., I’m… fuck!”

He tightens his grip, thrusts sharper now, messier.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say whose cock you need.”

“Yours…fuck, yours, Javi….please, please… fuck god….” You fall apart around him, again. Peña doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. He just keeps fucking you through it, groaning into your skin like he’s losing his mind.

“God, I’m gonna fill you up,” he moans. “Gonna make sure you feel me dripping out of you for days.” His own ecstasy takes over, both more than satisfied.

You’re both still trembling from the last orgasm when he rolls you over again,this time, flat on your back.

“You done?” you pant, breathless but grinning. He just smirks, grabs your thighs, & starts crawling up the bed. Sheets already stained.

“Not even fucking close.” He swings a leg over you, straddling your chest as he pulls you by the hips, dragging your soaked pussy to his mouth.

You get the hint real fast. He bends down, tongue already deep between your folds. You know what he wants & you take his cock in your mouth like you’ve been waiting for it.

It’s chaos.

Hot, wet, filthy chaos.

You moan around him the second his tongue hits your clit, & he groans into you when you suck him deep, throat fluttering around the thickness of him. He fucks you with his tongue like he wants to drown in you. Messy. No rhythm. Just need. You match him, hand wrapped tight around his shaft, lips dragging down his length while your other hand grips his thigh hard enough to bruise. Every time you moan, he jerks. Every time he groans into your cunt, you suck harder.

You’re both chasing it now. Fast. Raw. Feral.

He licks a filthy circle around your clit, then sucks, hard. You choke on his cock with a cry.

“Oh fuck,” he groans against you, voice wrecked. “That’s it, fuck, baby, keep moaning like that, make me cum in that smart mouth.. fuck”

Your legs start to shake again at his words. Your pleasure taking over. You try to hold back. Try to stay in the game. But his tongue is relentless. He knows your body now, knows the exact angle, the exact pressure, the exact…

You break.

You cry out, mouth full, body clenching, soaking his face as you come hard, grinding into his mouth without shame.

He loves it & He shudders. His self control gone on this night of phenomenal passion.

You feel it the moment he comes, thick spurts down your throat, his groan muffled into your cunt as you both fall apart at the same time. It’s messy. It’s loud & it’s perfect.

The air’s thick with sex & the scent of each other. The sheets are wrecked. Everything’s damp. You feel him shift behind you, arms sliding around your waist, one leg tossed over yours like he’s not planning on letting you go anytime soon. He nuzzles into your neck, stubble scraping soft. His hand drifts up your ribs, slow & lazy. Finds your breast.

“You gonna behave now?” he murmurs, voice low & smug, fingers teasing over your erecting nipples, barely touching. “Or do I need to fuck it out of you again?”

You hum, turning your face toward him with a smirk. “Baby, I don’t do behave.” He chuckles, deep & dirty. Then he rolls you onto your back, draping himself half over you, head dropping low to your chest. When his mouth closes around your nipple, slow, wet, tongue circling & sucking gentle but hungry, your whole body arches like you hadn’t just been ruined moments ago.

“You’ve got no fucking idea,” he mutters, kissing across your chest, “how long I’ve wanted this.”You bite your lip, fingers sinking into his hair as he keeps sucking, licking, dragging his teeth just barely across your skin.

“Javi…fuck…”

He glances up, cocky smirk painted across his mouth. “I could do this all night,” he says, moving to your other breast, licking a slow stripe before sucking hard, making your toes curl. “Taste every inch of you. Make you cum on demand just from my mouth.”

You groan, already getting needy again.

“Then do it,” you whisper. His tongue flicks. He grins.

“Oh, I fucking will.”

You’re still flushed, your body buzzing, nipples wet from his mouth, but you’re not done. Not even close. You muster up the strength to push him back against the pillows with a wicked grin, straddling his chest & crawling up until your soaked pussy is hovering over his mouth. He groans, looking up at you like he’s found religion.

“Fuck,” he mutters, licking his lips. “This how you say thank you?”

You grin. “This is how I shut you up.” Then you lower yourself onto his face. & god, does he go to work.

His hands grip your thighs like he’s anchoring himself to the moment. Tongue flat, then teasing, then fucking into you while you grind down, head thrown back, fingers tangled in his hair like you’re using him & you so fucking are.

“Just like that,” you pant, hips rocking. “Fuck, Javi…don’t stop… don’t you fucking stop…” You ride his mouth until your thighs are shaking, until you’re grinding down on his nose like you need it to breathe, until you cum all over his face once again, crying out & clenching around nothing, just friction & pleasure. You barely have time to come down before he flips you again, strength & desperation colliding as he positions you over his cock.

“My turn baby, gonna fuck you til it sticks”

You grab his jaw, lips brushing his. “I want all of you. Every filthy fucking drop.” That’s all it takes. You slide down, taking him deep in one slow, obscene thrust. You both moan in unison , long & wrecked, as he fills you to the hilt.

Then you start to ride. Hard. Fast. Passionate. You set the pace, bouncing on his cock, hands braced on his chest, his name falling from your lips in messy, breathless gasps. He’s losing his senses under you, gripping your hips, fucking up into you with every thrust, the wet sound of skin on skin echoing through the room.

“You feel that?” he groans. “That’s my cock stretching you out, raw, deep, just how you like it. Just how little sluts like it in their tight cunts” You cry out, back arched, head thrown back.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he grits, pounding up into you. “So tight, so wet, mine.”

You’re both unraveling again, together. Your orgasm hits like lightning, shaking through your body as you grind down onto him, & he’s right behind you, grunting, cursing, coming hard as he spills into you, raw,deep & filthy.

You collapse onto his chest, both of you drenched in sweat, hearts racing. a quick glance but neither of you want to stop. Despite your body’s needing a break.

It’s quiet now. The only sounds are the slow ripple of water, your soft breaths, & the occasional clink of the wine glass he insisted on bringing into the tub with you. You’re both sunk deep in the warm water, legs tangled, your back pressed to his chest, head resting against his shoulder. You both thought this would be the best way to recover, to heal those sensitive spots, but it’s just unleashes more desire.

He’s inside you again, slow, lazy, just rocking, the barest thrusts of his hips under the water as his hands trace your stomach, your thighs, your breasts, like he can’t stop touching you. It’s not about the orgasm now. It’s all about the feeling. The stretch. The intimacy. The weight of his cock still so deep inside you it makes your breath catch. How it pinched with the stretch, but you’ve gone past the point of caring. Peña is yours & you will never have another night quite like tonight ever again. He nuzzles your neck, pressing soft, wet kisses just below your ear.

Then he laughs, low, dark, wrecked. “This is the filthiest night of my life,” he whispers, slowly rolling his hips again, just enough for you to feel the drag of him inside you.

You smirk, eyes fluttering shut. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He groans. “Oh, it’s the best fucking thing.”

His hand moves up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your still sensitive nipple while he sinks in a little deeper, slower, the water rippling with every movement.

“I’ve never been this desperate for someone,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust & sleep. “Can’t get enough of you. Still hard. Still inside you. & I’m already thinking about the next time.” You shift your hips, pressing back into him, just enough to make him hiss through his teeth.

“You’re insatiable,” you tease, glancing at him over your shoulder. He grabs your chin, turns your face, kisses you slow and dirty.

“you fucking love it.”

After he’s cum inside you again, you stand up in the tub, slow & deliberate, water streaming off every inch of you skin. No towel. No hesitation. Feeling the sexiest you have ever been. Just the cool air meeting the heat of your body as you step out, glistening & glorious. Javi watches you like he’s in a trance, leaned back in the water, chest heaving, cock already twitching to life again at the sight of you walking away, bare, confident, every step a taunt.

“You’re tryin’ to fucking kill me,” he mutters.

You glances back over her shoulder, with a wicked smirk. “Then keep up, Agent.”

That’s it. He’s out of the tub in two seconds, dripping water all over the tile, stalking after you with that look in his eyes, that need.

By the time you’re halfway to the bed, he grabs you by the hips, bends you forward over the mattress, & doesn’t even pretend to wait. No teasing. No warning. Foreplay a thing of the past. Just raw, slick heat as he sinks into you from behind in one deep, filthy thrust.

“Fuck,” he growls, fingers digging into your hips, already pounding into you like he’s been hard for hours. “You don’t even dry off? You’re that desperate for me to fuck you again?” You moan, hands gripping the sheets, taking him deeper.

“I knew you’d follow,” you breathe. “Knew you wouldn’t last.” He slaps you damp ass…hard, then fucks you deeper, faster, the sound of your bodies echoing in the dark, wet skin slapping, filthy moans tangled together.

“Fucking right I followed,” he growls. “Couldn’t let that perfect, wet pussy walk away. Not when I still needed to ruin you one more time.”

He twists your hair, pulling her head back so your moan shatters the air.

“You feel that?” he grits, hips snapping into you. “That’s me still owning you. Still buried in this tight little cunt like I fucking live here.”

You cum again, soaked & wrecked, & he follows seconds later, hips jerking as he spills into you, moaning your name like a prayer. You’ve both lost count of your number of orgasms now.

You both collapse onto the bed together, tangled, wet, panting, & completely destroyed once again.

Morning breaks soft through the thin curtains, casting a golden haze over the wrecked hotel bed. The sheets are half on the floor, both their bodies still bare, twisted up in sleep & heat.

You blink awake slowly, head heavy, body sore in the best kind of way…then you see him.

Javier Peña.

Flat on his back. One arm behind his head. The other wrapped around his cock, already semi hard, lazily stroking himself, eyes half lidded & staring at the ceiling like he’s reliving every filthy thing you did to him the night before. Your lips curve.

“You really starting without me?” you murmur, voice still husky from sleep.

He glances over, smirks. “Didn’t wanna wake you.”

You slide closer, fingers trailing down his stomach, then wrapping around his hand, guiding his strokes a little faster.

“Too late for that,” you whisper, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. “Who says we’re done?” He groans, low & already needy again, his hips twitching as your hand fully replaces his, slow and teasing.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut. You straddle his thigh, sliding your slick center along his skin with a grin.

“Nah,” you whisper, lips brushing his. “I’m just making sure you never forget me.” from the way he looks up at you, completely ruined, completely obsessed, you know he won’t.

Not for a long, long time.

You slowly let him penetrate you. Raw, hard & passionate. Maybe this wasn’t just one night. But as you ride his cock as the new day starts, you both know it’s going to begin with him praising your cunt & the word fuck bouncing off the wall of your hotel room from your exhausted mouths.

[popcornforone]

Omg Xabi Alonso was on there

I’m gonna freak out

[popcornforone]

I'm obsessed with this entire press junket

[popcornforone]

── The Chicken incident.

Pairing: gumpy!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: you're soft, a little impulsive, and deeply in love with your chickens. Joel… is trying his best.

Content warnings: Contains chickens, domestic chaos, stubborness, rural home outside of town and a LOT of flapping.

Word count: 668

Notes: I've had this cute little idea for soo long and I've been debating about it if I should or should not write it but went for it anyways, I loooved writing this one soo much and I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I did!! ^^ 💛💛

The first mistake was telling Joel you were just going to look at the feed store.

The second mistake was brining your wallet.

By the time you pulled into the driveway with a cardboard box chirping on the passenger seat, you knew you were dead.

"It's fine," you whispered to yourself, lifting the box out of the truck with both hands. "He loves animals. He loves me. He won't even be that mad." The chickens chirped louder, as if mocking you.

You tippptoed up the porch, box tucked in your arms like a sacred offering, hammering with both guilt and joy.

Joel was already waiting at the door.

Grey t shirt, scowl in place, arms crossed. Classic 'i heard that truck the second it turned on the gravel" stance.

"Tell me that ain't what I think it is," he said flatly.

You gave him your sweetest smile. "They're babies, Joel."

"That's a box of chickens."

"Six chickens," you clarified, as if that helped. "All hens. No roosters. Perfectly quiet. Very cute."

He blinked.

"You told me you were goin' for birdseed."

"I did get birdseed!" You nudged the brown paper bag with your foot. "For these bjrde. So technically -"

"You brought livestock into our house, honey."

"They're babies," you repeated, like that solved everything. "Little peeping marshmallows." You carefully opened the top of the box to show him. Six fluffy chicks blinked up at you, golden and downy and completely unaware of the tension in the room..

Joel stared into the box like it might explode.

"They're not even outside animals yet," you said quickly. "They'll need a warm crate inside for a few weeks. I'll set it up in the laundry room."

"So we're raisin' birds in the same place I wash my jeans?"

"They won't poop on your jeans."

"You sure?"

You hesitated.

Joel exhaled. "I should've known this would happen the second you walked into that damn sore in overalls and a Pinterest board..."

~~~

By the time evening fell, the chicks were tucked happily in a cozy crate under a heat lamp, and Joel had retreated to the porch with a beer and a deep sigh of resignation.

You joined him not long after, settling into the chair beside him, hands still smelling faintly like chick feed and sawdust.

He gave you a side glance.

"You love those damn birds already."

"Of course I do. They're babies, Joel. They chirp when I talk to them."

"You talked to 'em for twenty minutes."

"One of them leaned her name."

Joel took a sip of his beer, mumbling, "Jesus Christ..." But hisjps twitched in amusement. You leaned your head on his shoude. "You'llove them eventually."

"I won't."

"You will. You're gonna name them and build them a coop and everything."

"I'm not building no chicken castle."

You patted his thigh affectionately. "We'll see."

~~~

The next morning you were halfway through breakfast when a wild screech echoed from down the hallway, followed by a crash and a very loud southern:

"What the hell is that doin' in the shower?!"

You dropped your toast and sprinted to the bathroom.

There, stood a very bold, very unbothered chick, peeping wildly, wet feet leaving muddy prints on the porcelain edge of the tub.

Joel was half naked, dripping, holding the shower curtainike a shield,face somewhere between exasperated rage and absolute disbelief. "WHY is there a chicken in the shower??"

You clapped ahand over your mouth to keep from laughing. "Oh my god, peaches!"

"Peaches?! You named it?"

"Shes adventurous!'

Joel looked at the chick, then at you, then at the chick.

"She watched me get in the damn shower. Then she got in with me."

You stepped forward, scooping peaches into your hands like a contritle toddler. "She must've hopped out of the crate, I swear I closed the lid!" Joel wiped a hand down his wed face. "That he's saw me naked."

You giggled. "So what?? You're handsome."

Joel gave you warning glare.

~~~

That night,

Joel sat in the Livingroom, reading a manual on chicken coops, you passed by holding peaches, "she apologized for the shower thing." You said sweetly.

Joel didn't look up. "Tell her she's grounded."

"You're such a good chicken dad,"

"I'm not their dad. I'm their victim."

You leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Sure, daddy."

He glared. "Don't."

You winked and walked away, Barbara peeping softly.

Soon you and joel sat on the back porch with coke and beer respectively, watching the hens peck lazily in the grass. Joel sighed, his arm around your shoulders.

"They're a menace."

"They're our girls."

"You spoil 'em more than you spoil me."

"They'll lay breakfast. You just steal the covers."

He smirked. "They don't make you scream my name in the middle of the night."

You choked on your coke. "Joel! The chickens are right there.."

He kissed your cheek. "They don't speak English."

[popcornforone]

His Version of Casual

A Javi Gutiérrez Fan Fic

When this is all that is on your mind when you should be watching the new Jurassic park film, yea these dropped as I sat down at the cinema & let’s just say this one is sending me.

Synopsis:- Javi G has a causal dinner planned for you both

Word Count:- 480

Warnings:- mentions of past sex & promises for future sex, teasing seductions. Other than that no real warnings at all.

Right I hope you all enjoy this snippet. We get a rest day now & then London crazy ness. Thanks for the read peoples.

He’s in his massive walk-in closet, deciding what to wear to dinner. He said something casual, but knowing Javi, & knowing the kind of places he likes to take you in Mallorca, you both know his version of “casual” is anything but.

He slowly zips up his white tailored trousers, pausing to enjoy the crisp sound of the zipper. Five different shirts hang in front of him as he stands there shirtless. His tanned chest is glorious, especially when he stretches to reach for something and the light catches the hair across it.

He chooses the white one. First, a vest, thinner straps than your swimsuit he untied by the pool earlier, clinging to every flex of muscle he has. Then the shirt, white with subtle grey spots, almost like fingerprints. It flows like a blouse, cool & loose, with a dramatic wrap for the neck & oversized cuffs. Only three buttons, of course. You’re still convinced he has a button allergy.

“Hmmm… not bad,” he says, twisting the stray curl that always escapes. He slides on his thick black framed glasses, everything perfectly in place, hair, mustache, beard, even the slightly bruised hickey on his neck that you left for the world to see. He knows he looks good.

“Yeah… I can rock this.”

But just as he admires himself in the mirror, he freezes, jaw slack, heart racing as he looks at the other view in the mirror reflecting back.

You’ve just stepped into his view in the bedroom, makeup done, hair soft & styled. Your silk robe slips from your shoulders & pools to the floor. Black lace lingerie, trimmed in white bows, clings to you perfectly. You slip into the simple black dress laid out on the bed, & it glides over your skin like it was made for you.

He watches, speechless, trousers tightening. Even in something understated, you outdo him.

“You gonna enjoy the view, Javi, or help me out?” you ask, reaching for the zipper at your back.

It snaps him out of it. He crosses the room in seconds, zipping you up with careful hands, breathing in your perfume. A soft kiss on your shoulder, then he turns you gently to face him.

“How do you make the simplest things so sexy?” he asks, lips brushing your neck.

You smile. “Easy, Javi. I was simple, you made me sexy. Now all I do is try to be just what you need.”

“You have no idea what my needs are right now,” he groans, one hand drifting over your ass.

“You want to unzip what you just zipped.”

“Am I that readable, baby?”

You turn & wink. “Yes. But I promise, you can do that after dinner.” You reach for your bag & heels, & Javi watches you, mesmerised, hungry, & utterly in awe of the most effortlessly simples yet sexy woman in his life.

[popcornforone]

Across The Room

A Lucien De Leon Fan Fic

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away (Twitter) I used to get recent photos of Pedro & write a short little story about what was going on with them. Today this look at the Paris Part of the press tour along with pose had me thinking straight away. So here’s something very sweet & small. Don’t expect with either the whole press tour but just looks that speak to me okay.

Synopsis:- your supporting Lucien on a Press tour.

Word count:- 290

Warnings:- None at all, the reader can be any genre you want.

Let me know if you like these people. Don’t worry though you are still getting a very hot fic later this week even if every day you get a small one.

Lucien was the talk of the town, tipped for Oscars, BAFTAs, SAGs, Globes. Offers were coming left, right, & centre. He wasn’t just on an acting streak no one had seen before, he was the best he’d ever been, physically & mentally.

The world was his.

But right now, posing at the press junket for his newest film, none of that mattered.

“Lucien, over here!”

“Smile, Lucien!”

“Give us a wave!”

“Lucien! Lucien!”

A wave of noise as everyone clambered for their shot. Adored, wanted by so many.

But he wasn’t thinking about any of them.

Because you were standing behind the lights & the shouting. His plus one. Smiling quietly, because your man was finally getting what he’d deserved all these years. You are always out of the way, but always with him in support.

He’s spotted you, talking to a press team member, chin resting on your hand. Listening to them but Occasionally glancing over, checking him out.

So he casually did the same pose. Chin in hand, arms folded, tanned from the recent heatwave, glowing against the white undershirt & black shimmer of his jacket. Behind his dark glasses, his eyes sparkled with mischief. No one else noticed what he was doing. Just you. Your heart swells. That’s your man, no matter what.

Then, with a grin, he dropped the pose, threw a peace sign, & blew a kiss before being ushered away.

The kiss wasn’t for the cameras. It was for you. No one saw you reach up & catch it, pressing it quietly to your heart.

Lucien may have been all the way across the room, but you were always with each other. Heart & soul.

[popcornforone]

Reed and Sue

Drawn digitally on procreate

[popcornforone]

The Ghost Of Your Voice

pairing: Frankie Morales x ofc! Firefly

"This story isn't about happy endings. It’s about almosts. About the kind of love that brands you and ruins you and lives in you even long after."

For those of you who stumbled in here by accident thinking, “Wow, I love this, but I have no idea who these people are” — I highly recommend diving into their full story “Like A Song Stuck In My Head” It’s an emotional ride, but one worth taking.

word count: ~ 540

notes: As promised (and as demanded by many of you), here’s a little extra from our favorite tragic lovers Firefly & Frankie, in celebration of hitting 500 followers (well… 540 now, but who's counting. I just couldn’t finish this earlier without completely losing it). Yes, I cried again while writing this. Yes, I miss them like hell. And no, don’t come screaming at me about this — you asked for it! *hands out tissues anyway *🥲

[Voice Memo | 2:47 | Unplayed]

click. soft rustling. a long pause. her voice is low, tired, half-laughing, half-sighing.

“Okay, so… I wasn’t gonna send this. I was just gonna delete it. Pretend I never thought about you again. That’s the smart thing, right?”

nervous exhale, like she’s lighting a cigarette or pacing a dark apartment.

“I know I said I didn’t want anything serious. And I meant it. I think. I don’t know. You— you mess with my head, Frankie. You show up sober and say something stupid and suddenly I’m laughing at a bar I swore I’d leave behind.”

short silence. a creak—maybe her sitting down. her voice drops softer now, like a confession.

“I think I miss you, even when you’re standing right next to me. That’s messed up, huh?”

a car horn in the background. then, quieter—almost like she didn’t mean to say it aloud:

“I wish you’d fight for this. Even if I pretend I don’t want you to.”

a shaky breath. then she steels herself, puts on a mask of lightness.

“Anyway, uh. Don’t listen to this when you’re high. You’ll think it’s a song lyric or some shit. Just… yeah. If you ever think of me, I hope it’s something good.”

long pause. silence stretching. and then, finally, barely audible:

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

click.

—

He doesn’t mean to play it.

Just a flicker of muscle memory—scrolling through old files in a half-lit room that smells like dust and motel soap. Firefly’s asleep a few feet away, curled into the thinnest blanket imaginable. Red hair fanned over the pillow like a sunset that refused to die.

The voice hits him like a match in dry kindling.

Not this her, a different her. One he barely survived losing the first time.

She sounds tired. Honest, almost scared. And she’s his, in that way that never felt safe to say out loud.

He doesn’t blink. Not when she laughs at herself or  when she whispers that she misses him. Not even when she admits she wanted him to fight for her.

But by the time she says “Goodnight, Frankie,” his throat is a fist and his chest feels carved open, like she reached in with nothing but her voice and pulled the ache to the surface.

He looks at her asleep in that too-big hotel bed, the same one he used to collapse into on the nights they weren’t them, when he drowned in cities that weren’t hers and sang her name in every setlist anyway.

But some miracle she’s here now, still breathing. Still his.

And without thinking or knowing why his heart’s pounding the way it is, he stands and crosses the space between them. Sits on the edge of the bed, careful to not startle her too much. Brushes a strand of hair from her cheek like it’s the last soft thing in the world.

She stirs, but doesn’t wake up and he whispers, barely audible, more to the ghost of her voice than to her sleeping body, “I’m here now. I’m not leaving again.”

Maybe she hears him, maybe she doesn’t.

But even in sleep, her hand finds his.

And he holds on, like he already knows—somewhere deep down—that soon, he won’t get the chance.

thanks for reading 💌

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tags: (if you don't wanna be tagged anymore, let me know!) @cheekychaos28@speaktothehandpeasants @kungfucapslock @felix-enthusiast @kakiki3 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @capuccinodoll @whirlwindrider29 @christinamadsen @sheepdogchick3 @brittmb115 @greenwitchfromthewoods @diabaroxa @glycerinrivers @carmillahepburn @copperhalfcent @beaniebailey @thepilatesprincess @axshadows @kirsteng42 @joelsgoodgirl @ellenmunn @matchalov3 @canadianfangirl-95 @picketniffler @hotforpedro @noovaarq @warmdragonfly @theanothersherlockian @littleluc @76bookworm76 @inept-the-magnificent @confusedpuffin @wheatmaze @rav3n-pascal22 @picketniffler @lostinmyownmaze @faeriephoenix22-blog

special shoutout to my ride or die @rhapsodyofdarkness you cried with me, raged with me, and believed in Firefly & Frankie from the very beginning. We still can’t talk about them without crying and maybe that’s how I know they were real in the only way that matters. This wouldn’t exist without you ❣️

[popcornforone]

& im melting & it’s not just the weather

Mouthful of Worship

tags: filth, praise, oral (m! receiving), BDE Frankie, established relationship, some aftercare, it's straight up porn with a sprinkle of feelings (and I'm not sorry)

notes: Happy Frankie Friday 🧢 my babies and what better way to celebrate than our favorite pilot getting head. This only exists thanks to @pascalispunkczechia, please don't ask any further questions. Enjoy 😉

word count: 665

When your husband Frankie is flushed and breathless, curls damp and wild across his forehead, that’s when you know you’re doing it right. When those hands—always so gentle with you, always holding your face like something precious—tangle in your hair and he rasps out, “That’s a good girl,” the heat between your legs flares white-hot.

You glance up at him from between his thighs, right where you want to be, basking in the praise as your tongue teases him slowly. Languid licks circle the flushed head of his cock, and his fingers tighten just a little in your hair. It’s not painful, never forceful, just guiding. He hisses through his teeth and you know he’s close.

You take him deeper again, as far as you can go—and with Frankie, that’s always a stretch. He’s big. It’s something that never stops surprising you, not just the size but the way he carries it—like a man constantly second-guessing himself, unaware he’s walking around with king-sized BDE. You gag a little as he hits the back of your throat, tears pricking at your eyes, saliva dripping down your chin but you don’t stop.

You close your eyes and let the salty taste linger on your tongue before hollowing your cheeks, sucking like your life depends on it. Up and down. Devoted, desperate. He jerks his hips just slightly, a breathless “Fuuuuck, baby” slipping from his mouth as your hands slide to grip his ass.

“I’m so close—” he rasps, voice gone rough, somewhere between helpless and reverent.

You smile around him, then murmur, “It’s alright, baby. Come in my mouth.”

That does it—his whole body stutters. He looks down at you, wide-eyed, lashes fluttering, and strokes your chin with a tenderness that punches you right in the chest. You press soft kisses to the base of his cock, and his fingers gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

“You sure?” he asks, breath ragged.

You nod, mouth full again. He starts to move—slow, controlled thrusts that build and build until his body goes taut. His head falls back against the wall with a groan as you swirl your tongue around the tip. That’s all it takes.

With a final jerk of his hips, he comes—hot and thick, filling your mouth in pulsing waves. You try to keep up, swallowing around him as best you can, his moans low and broken.

When he twitches one last time, you let him go with a wet, obscene pop and swallow every drop. Still on your knees, you look up at him—blissed out, chest rising and falling, looking more relaxed and beautiful than you’ve seen him in days.

He helps you up, hands warm and steady. You brush off your knees as he pulls you against him and kisses you deeply—grateful, aching, full of love. You grin against his mouth, and when he pulls back, he kisses the tip of your nose before cradling your face just enough to look at you.

“You good?” he asks softly like he always does.

“I am,” you say with a mischievous grin. “You?”

“You broke me,” he laughs, the sound low and rumbly in his chest. “Thank you.” He presses one last kiss to your temple and starts tugging his cargos back into place.

“Okay, maybe…” he says, straightening your dress, smoothing your hair, and gently wiping a smudge of mascara from beneath your eye. “I’ll head out first. You take a minute. Don’t want the guests to get suspicious. No need for them to know my wife is a full-blown sex goddess with a devastating mouth.”

You snicker, squinting out the window to the backyard where glasses clink and voices carry through the summer air. “See you outside,” you say, and as he turns to leave, you give his ass a playful pinch.

He laughs, looking back over his shoulder. And you watch him go—relaxed, soft, carefree.

That look on him? That’s the real reward. Because you both fought like hell to get here.

thanks for reading 💌

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tags: @speaktothehandpeasants @sxnnimoon @harriedandharassed @kungfucapslock @felix-enthusiast @bergamote-catsandbooks @kakiki3 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @whirlwindrider29 @cuteanimalmama @christinamadsen @sheepdogchick3 @brittmb115 @greenwitchfromthewoods @diabaroxa @glycerinrivers @carmillahepburn @copperhalfcent @beaniebailey @thepilatesprincess @axshadows @kirsteng42 @joelsgoodgirl @ellenmunn @matchalov3 @canadianfangirl-95 @picketniffler @hotforpedro @noovaarq @theanothersherlockian @littleluc @76bookworm76 @inept-the-magnificent @confusedpuffin @wheatmaze @rav3n-pascal22 @picketniffler @lostinmyownmaze @misstokyo7love @pasc4lfuzz @cheekychaos28 @perodjarin

[popcornforone]

Moody 💪

Pedro Pascal sketch on procreate

[popcornforone]

Deep in Denim

A Mayor Ted Garcia Fan Fic

Okay he needs to stop with the looks being on point at the moment I am getting nothing done at all but looking at them & then it providing inspiration. This photos not even been out 24hs yet & here I am with a fic for you, short & spicy.

Synopsis:- Ted is running later to open the new community Center & you are apart of the press covering the story for the state news.

Word Count:- 1700

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Fingering, touching each other, secret relationship, begging, pleasing, swearing, dirty talk, mentions of tying up & cream pie.

Yea Pedro you’re making writing a lot of fun at the moment. Thanks for the read peoples.

It’s the opening of the new community Center in the town of Eddington, January 2020. The news is a wash with this new flu that’s knocking about in Asia but you’re not bothered by that, it’s half a world away. It will never get here.

Instead you stand in the dusty town waiting for the local new station to do a small interview with mayor Ted Garcia after he’s cut the ribbon & shaken a few hands of some contractors. Pretty basic stuff, it will be on the 6pm news & you can then go back at looking at other more serious new story’s in the state. But for today on this slow January Monday this was the news.

You stood there & waited with your camera crew, so did the contractors, the local sheriff who looked miserable & grumpy that he was wasting his time doing security for this event & the new manger of the community centre. There were about 30 members of the public always waiting to applaud, but the mayor had not arrived. You rolled your eyes & looked at your watch.

“Is he always late?” You scoff.

“Yes but never this late” a member of the public says as they hear you & you tut.

“The quicker we can get this interview done the better cos…” you were suddenly quietened by a buzz of movie as a jeep rolled up & out stepped the mayor. But not in the kind of out fit you’d expect a mayor to wear. Ted Garcia was in double denim. It made his arse as he walked up to the podium really round & peachy in those blue jeans. He had a white shirt on & what could only be described as a champagne pink tie. His moustache immaculate as he put those big Garda on his belt as he finished waving at people even his black doc martins were covered by the swirling dust. He did cough as he stood by the microphone & waited for the crowd to hush. He had a sense of Argos fe about him but here was also this wonderful charming smile. A sleazy politician one it could well be but with those luscious curls & big brown eyes, he could tell you all it was the end of the world & you’d all thank him for it. & that’s why people vote for him. He cleared his throat before he started his speech. Your camera guy already filming but you were under Ted’s trance.

He starts speaking, something about community, growth, pride in small towns, and the resilience of Eddington, hands gesturing doing all the politician stuff, but you barely register the words. It’s not that you’re swooning, exactly. You’re a professional. But there’s just something about him that making your heart flutter a little too much.

The way he smiles only with one side of his mouth when he mentions “the future.” The way he doesn’t look at his notes, like he knows you’re watching him & doesn’t want to break eye contact. The way he talks about family & commitment. It’s all music to your ears.

“…& with this new space, we don’t just open a building, we open possibility,” Ted says, finishing with a kind of rehearsed warmth that still somehow feels real. “So, thank you. Let’s keep building.”

Applause. Whistles. Someone yells “We love you, Mayor Ted!” He does a little nod, a tip of the head like he’s tipping a hat that isn’t there, then steps off the podium & poses for a few photos as he cuts a big red ribbon, thw standard mayor stuff. But before you know it he is walking straight toward your camera crew. You blink. Your pen is poised over your notepad but you haven’t written a thing form the speech you were mentioning to be listening too, you were too lost in his eyes. He reaches you, eyes tracking your press badge before flicking up to your face.

“Well hey there,” he says, voice quieter now, intimate in a way that makes the hair on your arms stand up. “Didn’t catch your name, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You definitely blink that time. Your heart is gonna leap out of your chest.

“Oh…uh, I’m with Channel 9. Just here to get a soundbite for the… uh… the six o’clock.” Your stumbling & flustered your two man crew roll their eyes.

Ted smiles. Leans in, just a fraction. “Then let’s make it a good one.”

Your camera guy elbows you lightly. You snap out of it. “Right. Yeah. Okay. Um. Ready when you are.”

The interview goes by in a blur, he says all the right things, drops a few charming lines about “serving the people” & “keeping Eddington strong,” & signs off with a practiced wink straight at the camera. But when the red light turns off, his eyes stay on you.

“Y’know,” he says, taking a slow step back, “I don’t normally like talking to the press. But if they all looked like you…” He lets the sentence hang. You stare at your notepad like it’s going to save you. It doesn’t. Your pen hadn’t moved for ages.

Behind you, the sheriff sighs. “For god’s sake, Ted,” he mutters.

Ted just chuckles. “What? I’m bein’ polite.”

And then, to you again, lower:

“You sticking around for the afterparty inside? They’re servin’ pie. You look like someone who deserves pie.” He says.

“Erm…” your voice hangs. Wanting to say yes & no.

“Well we got all our footage” says your camera man “you stay & we will go get this to the station to air”

“That’s settled then” Ted says wrapping his arm around you.”come on sweetheart, let’s get you some pie”

Ted’s hand rests warm & steady at the small of your back as he guides you through the double doors of the new community center. The room smells of fresh paint & sawdust, but his cologne cuts through, cedar-wood, smoke, maybe a little leather, something that makes you dizzy in a way you’re not proud of. He nods at people as you pass m, a couple of council members, a contractor still holding a slice of pie m, but doesn’t stop walking. His grip on you is light, but purposeful. Like he knows exactly where he’s taking you.

You glance up at him. “Where are we going?”

He smirks. “Just someplace a little quieter.”

The hallway is wide & sunlit, echoing with the fading sounds of the event. Then he opens a plain wooden door & gestures you inside.

It’s a small office, probably meant for whoever’s managing the place. Desk. Filing cabinet. A few half-unpacked boxes. Nothing remarkable. But the second the door clicks shut behind you, the air changes. Thicker. Warmer.

You turn, already forming a polite excuse in your head, but before you can say a word, he’s in front of you.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, eyes flicking from your lips back up to your eyes. You nod, but it’s slow. Hesitant. Too honest.

“Good,” he says, thumb brushing just barely along your jawline. “’Cause I’ve been trying not to look at you like this all damn afternoon.”

That’s when he kisses you. It’s not tentative. It’s firm, very possessive, the kind of kiss that steals the breath from your lungs & leaves you gripping the edge of his jacket just to stay standing. He tastes like coffee & heat & something a little dangerous.

You melt into it, forget your name, forget your job, forget everything but the way his hand slides to your waist & pulls you flush against him like he’s been waiting all day to do exactly this. Your notepad hits the floor. You don’t notice.

“Ooohhh Ted” you moan.

“God I’ve missed this” he says as he pushes you against the desk. “Why did they have to post you somewhere out of town, i miss my girl, I miss this pussy, I miss all of it” you both agreed it was bad if Ted was seen dating a member of the press to gain influence, hence you moved around, but any opportunity you got to come back was met with hot sex & a passionate feral mayor.

“How long have we got before your missed” you moan as you slide on to the desk. Legs parting as he undoes his belt.

“Enough for fingers & hands for sure”

“I can cope with that, but I’m not leaving town tonight after a tease”

“You want the whole pie” he says parting your panties & slipping his fingers inside you & you gasp.

“I want the cherry on top too” you moan & slip your hand into his trouser & boxers & start to stroke his length.

“God I missed this” he snarls. “You being needy, being a cock hungry whore” his eyes roll.

“I’d give it all up if you put a ring on it” you say jerking harder, his thumb circling your clit while he trusts his fingers inside you.

“You wanna ring?”he says grabbing you round the neck.

“Fuck yes”

“Beg for it”

“Mr mayor please please”

“Ooooh fuck” he snaps spilling into his boxers, your hand feeling the squirts of his cum. It’s makes his fingers furious & soon you are a mess on the desk. Undoing yourself. Coming to pleasure from your man, your mayor.

“Fuck baby” he pants & the licks his fingers & goes to the filing cabinet to get out some tissues. “I had not idea how much a I needed that” you both then clean up a little.

“Well what can I say I give good girlfriend”you smirk “& hand jobs”

“Would have been better with your mouth”

“Later Ted” you say as you get off the desk & wrap your arms around him. “So is mayor Ted Garcia ready to go back to his adoring public in double denim?”

“I guess I had best & you need to make small talk”

“I’m only press Ted…”

“But what if you weren’t” he said as he strokes your hair. “I’m up for re-election, a fiancé might get me ahead in the polls” he says smirking.

“Wait are you seriously asking me to marry you for political gain in double denim?” You put your hands on your hips. But deep down you’re secretly excited & impressed by this move.

“& a champagne tie, darling” he says & rubs his moustache. “Say yes & it’s champagne, tying up & cream pies every night for the rest of your life”

[popcornforone]

I did not know I need this

Maybe Fink, Grogu & Claud could be the Pokémon they have caught

Pedro Pascal is everywherrrr now taking over the Pokemon universe!!

Recognize any of these faces? 12 of Pedro Pascal’s characters turned out surprisingly good... others, not so much. Yes, these are AI-generated! I usually don’t use AI, but I was bored, and this happened. I’ll be giving each of them their own Pokémon at some point, because of course I will - i am a nerd. Anyone besides me who loves Pedro Pascal and Pokemon? 😊

[popcornforone]

Husband!

PEDRO PASCAL as DAVE YORK The Equalizer 2 (2018) dir. Antoine Fuqua