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pedrostylez · 5 months

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How The Crow Flies - pt. 3

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 3.1k

Chapter Summary: You come across a man in the jungle that can't keep his hands off of you

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. dismissive Javier, alcohol, drinking, mentions of SA, illudes to dubcon, SMUT!!!! oral (m receiving), masturbation, Javier has kinda nice thoughts, derogatory use of whore, some manhandling

A/N: I thought I was going to post this on Friday and then the weekend got away from me...whoopsies. Anyways, heed the warnings, and enjoy

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981

The air was sticky in your crash house, decorated with small, shiny trinkets to make it look like home. Javier despised it, a deep part of him wanted to knock everything off the shelves into boxes, drag you back to the embassy and have you sit in his office until he could send you back to Miami.

He despised all the things you tried to do with this house, even though it was under his orders. Make it look like you’ve moved in, he had said, pose as a whore and do what you have to do to get in that house. He could slap himself for saying something like that now.

You do an excellent job of distracting him though, on your knees at the edge of your bed, letting him lay out in front of you heaving. “Quiedra, please.” He huffs, jaw clenched and breathing heavily through his teeth. His hands are fisted in the sheet below him, thighs jumping with every pump of your fist. Your lips are puckered over his head, dribbling out his come over him as you continue a firm grasp.

He’s clenching so tightly he’s not sure if the sound he hears is his teeth cracking or if it's his hand coming up to hold you by your shoulder. Shaking fingers, gripping into the muscle to hold on to something for dear life, his eyes opening briefly to look down at you.

She’s so beautiful.

He feels his eyes roll back, the orgasm continuing past what he thought he could ever feel. “Fuck, honey–”

“You’re alright, Javi.” You whisper, kissing his shaft and slowing down your hand, smiling.

God, how is she smiling right now?

Javier takes deep breaths, trying to slow down his heart rate and kneading his fingers into your tight muscle. He’s trying to figure out how to control himself. “Did that feel good?”

He laughs, breathy and in shock. The sweat dripping from his hair trails down his neck feels cool against his skin, snapping him back to your lips that are spread in a smile at his softening cock. “Yes.”

“Good.” You release him, sliding a hand from his hip up to his chest, causing him to shiver. Your nails dig in, scratching at him lightly before standing and leaning over him. “I have to go.”

A quick kiss to his cheek, his mouth now slack with the soreness from clenching so tightly. He has the where-withall to reach out to you, sliding his hand around your waist and pulling you close. “No–no, what? Where are you going?”

You laugh, bright and easy. “I have to get back to work. You know, Lorea? The guy you want me to trail–”

“Don’t leave.” He pulls on you again, your balance unsure as you rests one knee on the bed by his leg. You’re wearing no top, but your skirt is still zippered in place, heels still on your feet. You reach around him and come back with your bra. “Let me take care of you.”

Despite his attempt to sway you from not putting on your bra, a wrestle of sorts before you scoff at him and give him a push on to the bed, you’ve secured it behind your back and tilted your head at him. “We have a job to do. I helped you clear your head, now get back on track.” You affirm, stepping to the floor and away from him.

He sits back up, watching you step over to his dresser where your shirt was thrown. “You don’t want anything, hermosa?” He questions, shaking his head and standing up to look for his own clothes. He steps behind you, your fingers clasping a button and giving him enough time to press his hands to the dresser and invade your space. “Not even my mouth?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? You said just last week my tongue was very talented when I did–”

“Javi.” You’re firm, blood rushing to your cheeks before smoothing out. “We have a job to do.”

“But I know you would taste fucking devine right now.” He growls in your ear, his hand reaching around your body and pulling you flush to him. He kisses at your ear, making you laugh again before giving him a final push.

“We have to get in there and try to find these guys. I don’t want them to get away.”

“Yes boss.” He mumbles, feeling the sting of your slap on his arm before grabbing for you again.

He wants to wrap you up again, press his mouth to yours and taste himself and convince you to lay down for him. That shiny bobble on your night stand stares at him, instead making him watch you finish dressing, his blood pressure rising again.

“I’ll be gone for the week.” You announce, turning to him with your keys in hand. “Yovanna got me a meeting with Lorea’s head bodyguard.”

His first impulse is to ask what that entails, but he swallows it down and nods, walking past you to the door. “Let me know how it goes, when you get back.”

You’re staring at him, what he thinks is shock in your eyes gone once you blink. You nod, following him out into the new light of the day. “I’ll meet you at the grocery store next Sunday.”

Once you’ve gone your own way, his back to you, a nagging thought in the back of his mind slaps him. I should have told you to be careful.

Frankie’s boots are soaked through, socks cold and sticking to his toes that make him cringe if he thinks too long about it. His rain jacket is barely helping, hood falling in his face from the weight of rain drops, but he can still see you.

Your legs, god damn it, less than twenty feet away as he lays in the mud like an animal just looking on.

He knew you would show up eventually, but he didn’t think he would have to lay eyes on you through the scope of his gun, and watch as you stepped into the security house with a smile on your face.

He takes a deep breath, sighing before lowering his scope and settling into the mud. He had dreamed of you every night since just the flash of you outside the bar, cursing himself every time he woke up next to Benny or Will, still passed out and unaware of his wandering thoughts.

He was still stuck on what he dreamed last night. You on your back, hands curling his hair around your fingers, a knowing smirk gracing your lips as he gets closer and closer–

Frankie silently slides back through the mud, farther away from the trail as Will comes over his ear piece.

“Alright boys, she’s in there. We have maybe 10 minutes before she comes back out.”

“Only 10? Give him some credit.” Redfly’s muffled snicker reaches Frankie’s ears, and he attempts to not roll his eyes even though no one can see him.

“Let’s not risk it.” Will chuckles through the speaker, silence taking over before again. “Fish, keep an eye out.”

“Heard.” Frankie mumbles over his microphone, eyes scanning the wooden door before moving over to the window.

You surprise him when he sees you, smiling at the head of security and turning toward the pane of glass. Frankie doesn’t move, eye tracking your every movement. When your eyes glance up through the glass, seemingly on his, Frankie holds his breath.

You turn your head to face the man you’re talking to, giggling heard through the walls before the hem of your skirt is lifting over your ass. Frankie can’t see much-the tops of your thighs, your cleavage pressing against the glass, your palms holding you up. He feels his mouth water at how your lips are parted, glossy in the sunlight streaming in.

Frankie shifts uncomfortably, chatter is his ear forgotten as he continues to watch you through the window. He’s trying to stay focused and not get turned on by watching you until your eyes snap to his, that smirk from his dreams appearing in front of him.

Your eyes are trained on him, a full smile appearing as you moan obnoxiously for the man behind you.

God, how is she smiling right now?

Frankie is tempted to reach into his own pants, covered in dirt and filthy just to let you know how you make him feel. The thought crosses his mind, shifting again to undo his pants when he hears, “How’s it going in there, Fish?”

He clears his throat, shaking his head and bringing his hand up to his lapel. “She’s…she’s keeping him occupied.”

“I want to switch with Fish next time.” Benny teases through the earpiece, silence engulfing Frankie again as your fingers reach down to the window sill, clenching around the frame and throwing your head back.

Frankie hears labored breaths and grunts, your own face pinching in what he thinks may be ecstasy, and he clicks on his microphone. “He’s finishing up, boys.”

“Wrap it up.” Redfly huffs through his ear, anxiousness streaming through Frankie as he watches you pull your dress down again, tilting your head to speak to the security guard before stepping away from the window.

Frankie holds his breath as the door opens, your nod of thanks being greeted with an envelope and smile that makes his body cringe inwardly. You stand in the walkway, waiting for the door to shut before you turn around, taking steps in Frankie’s direction.

Shaky steps down the path as the rain hits your face, you’re holding back tears that you think will spill at any moment.

You knew you would have to go through with this when Yovanna prepped you before.

Big smiles, and I suggest no underwear, okay?

You clench your jaw, shaking yourself as you follow the path down the stairs and through some overgrown brush. Your ankles wobble, stopping for a moment to try and collect yourself and look down at your heels. The straps have come loose, and you groan at the prospect of having to bend over and fix them.

You glance over your shoulder, no longer in eye sight of the door and make the decision to crouch down. Before you’re able to fully crouch, a sharp pressure squeezes around your bicep, pulling you from the path.

You don’t make a sound, eyes widening as you stumble to the left. When your face is met with a solid chest you grunt, furrowing your brow and trying to push away. The pressure increases, causing you to squeak out.

“What are you doing?” You say quietly, not daring to look up.

The man in front of you is dirty. What was once a gray shirt seems to be covered in muck, rain water soaking through all of his layers that cause his boots to squish as he shuffles. He has dry spots where his belt is secure around his hips, but not much else is visible.

His hands tighten around your arms, causing you to wince again. “Are you the hired whore?” He gruffs out, clearing his throat at the end.

You furrow your brow, unsure how he knows this information. The question pops out before you have a chance to filter it. “Are you a security guard?”

“That’s not your concern.” He says quickly, turning you around and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t move.”

You hold your breath, looking out past the grown brush and trees that he seemed to be hiding in, rain beginning again on the main path. You shiver involuntarily, wondering briefly if this is where your cover is going to be well and truly blown. You’re not sure you can do this again so soon after pretending the first time.

His hands, rough and calloused run down your side to the hem of your dress, curling around the fabric roughly and pulling it up. “If I feel your pussy, will you be wet?”

You swallow roughly, shaking your head. “What? No.”

“Wet for them, or wet for me?” He ignores you, chuckling to himself as his fingers dance over your skin.

“No one.”

He clicks his tongue at you, sliding his hand around from the outside of your leg to the inside, trailing up to where your panties are pulled taught against your skin; a size too small to keep everything in place. You had decided against Yovanna’s advice, and while it had been unhelpful moments ago, you breathed a sigh of relief for the thin barrier for the man behind you.

His fingers press against your flesh at your mound, and you stiffen. “I’m not a security guard.” He whispers in your ear, the smile you are convinced is there coming into your vision as you spin around and away from him.

You push him away, hard and angry, stumbling backwards until your ass hits the ground with a muted thud. “Get the fuck away from me.”

“What? You’ll do it for them and not for me?” He smiles, squinting at you briefly as if assessing you before taking a step toward you. He freezes, tilting his head like he is listening to something, reaching for his lapel and speaking into a microphone you hadn’t noticed before. “Yeah, I’ll head your way.”

You watch him adjust himself, eyes widening at the obvious package he is hiding below his pants before frowning at his outstretched hand. “I don’t need your help.”

He keeps his hand out toward you, smirking again before grabbing at your arm. He lifts you without issue, holding you steady and observing your arms for a moment before taking a healthy step away from you. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

You’re slightly dumbfounded, confused and unsure how to proceed. He’s not a security guard, or part of the Lorea group, but he’s waiting in the dirt for…something. The microphone on his lapel is the only polished part of him, the gun tossed to the side military grade.

Your eyes flash to the matted hair around his ears, darker in the rain, but reminding you of the other day. “You know Santiago?”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Pretty quick for a whore.” He comments, hands resting on his hips for a moment before looking over his shoulder. “Was that a yes to tomorrow?” He questions again, his eyes raking up and down your figure before tilting towards your tiny purse.

“I don’t know.” You say breathily, stepping backward toward the walkway but refusing to take your eyes off of him. Your skin is heating in what feels like a trap, the straps of your clutch creaking under the pressure of your hand. A tiny hand gun rests behind the zipper, and you don’t want him to take it from you.

His eyes are dark in the cover of the jungle, lips pink and enticing even though he had manhandled you already more than you preferred. The dirt and rain covering him left little to the imagination, body strong and broad making you feel slightly weak if you let your eyes trail down too far.

He licks his lips, watching you survey him. He smirks pointing to your purse as if knows what you’re carrying. “We’ll play again the next time you’re here.”

You scoff, feeling slightly dizzy at the prospect of being caught so early, leaning a hand against a tree. “And what if I don’t want to?”

He pauses, watching you for a moment before clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “I’ll tell Santiago you’re not some whore. And he’ll tell his little bitch…what will that do for you? I think you need to be in there just as much as I do.”

You swallow, fear coursing through your veins. Your cover can so quickly be blown, and you don’t know how to avoid what seems to be the inevitable. You straighten your spine, closing your eyes briefly before training them on him again.

He’s crossed his arms, smug in his discovery. “Who are you, then?” You ask, shrugging your shoulders and crossing them.

He smiles, bright teeth reflecting back at you. “I’ll tell you next time.” He amends, reaching for his weapon and nodding at you before turning his back and slinking through the jungle, unafraid of you or anything that he may come upon.

Frankie stares at himself in the mirror, fresh out of the shower of the motel they are all staying at. He still feels dirty, somehow, even though he stood under the stream of luke-warm water long enough for it to run cold. He doesn’t want to acknowledge that it is because he is already too deep into thinking about you.

His arms are sore as he twists them to see if he has any bruises, any bites from insects while laying in the mud. Your face flashes in his vision as he does this, how your arms were smooth under his pressured touch.

Frankie wonders what was in your bag, how your fingers tightened around the handles when you realized he was observing.

You were not a whore, that much he was certain of.

Questions began streamlining through his mind, of what exactly your motive was. Who were you, exactly? Were you after the money like they were? Were you scheming with Yovanna to screw them up?

He closes his eyes and leans against the sink, cool porcelain against his palms grounding him enough for the questions to disappear, and the images of your legs as you bent over in front of the window, the sway of your chest with every thrust of the man behind you.

His hand shakily wrapped around his stiffened cock, holding back a groan at the feeling and wishing someone else would be doing it for him. He squeezed himself, adjusting his grip before beginning a steady rhythm and the ghost feeling of your ass against him.

Frankie revels in the memory, having to bite his lip to keep himself quiet after realizing he was being loud. Benny is just beyond the door, with the TV on high and the microwave beeping that a frozen meal is half ready. He speeds up as he remembers how your eyes raked over him, embarrassment flooding your face at being caught. As far as he was concerned, you wanted this too.

Frankie finished with a muffled groan, ropes of his come covering his lower stomach and his hand releasing himself to look again in the mirror. Red faced and water from the shower still dripping from his hair.

He shook his head and cleared his throat, wiping away the evidence of himself and flushing it down the toilet.

Your eyes locking on his through the window had his jaw clenching, making a quick decision. Whatever you wanted didn’t matter, because he wanted you.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales smut #joel miller x reader #frankie morales #javier peña #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #frankie morales x reader #tw sa implied #tw sa mention #tw dubcon

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worldruins · 6 months

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I am curious cuz I saw some Cool Posts about iterators.. does anyone else have iterator ocs who either lost or were built without puppets?

One of my friends has one who amputated his puppet to prevent rot metastasizing, and one of my iterators lost its puppet through Violence (the puppet in both scenarios is effectively dead).

Tell me about your guys though if you have any like that :p

#rw #mine #chatters #rain world #iterator oc #rain world iterator #<- going pspsps #ftr i agree a lot with the stuff im talking about except i dont think the like. mortal shortened ‘wandering puppet’ life #is inherently better/more fulfilling even. for some characters it is and for some it wouldnt be #but its not unilateral and it certainly isnt morally/philosophically superior #NOT THAT THAT WAS IMPLIED but idk. thinking my thoughts

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jasontoddenthusiastt · 11 months

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I think fans want Jason to be a good person or be becoming one. To have a character that is well meaning and compassionate but decided murder is ok and to stand against main heroes who’s beliefs and actions go against the people he cares about and wants in his life. It’s confusing for people. People want their fav characters to be happy. But Jason can’t have his family’s support and follow his moral code. He’s cares about people and Gotham, and he’s an asshole who kills. It’s messy. It’s not black and white. I don’t even think Jason cares about being a good person or in the right anymore. I think he cares about what will save the most people instead.

Oh my goodness gracious I’ve been bamboozled

Batman’s definition of Good is not synonymous with absolute good/right no matter how much dc insists it is. Torture, battery/assault, surveillance, those are all condemnable actions too. I won’t get into the exhausting and frankly dumb debate of comic book morality wrt killing because I’ve already reblogged plenty of posts from other people who explained my thoughts on the matter far better than I ever have the patience to sit down and articulate. I also just think the notion that there’s something to be done about fictional characters who kill nazis and senseless murderers is stupid. Jason’s point is that the “main” heroes’ sanitized definition of right has its unaddressed holes and flaws which ultimately result in more preventable fatalities, and that he’ll work to correct those missing spots.

He doesn’t not care about doing what’s right. What he doesn’t care about (at least during his Winick characterization) is whether Batman thinks he’s right or wrong, because he sees the flaws in Batman’s methodology (and since he has a mind of his own). Batman’s methods alone cannot address Arkham’s revolving door and the rogues that come and go through those doors who have no intention (or capability from the doylist pov) of ever changing or undergoing redemption. Jason knows that he’s minimizing the number of preventable deaths by killing his targets, typically Characters Who Simply Do Fucked Up Shit Just Because, Why The Fuck Not?

Secondly, Jason is compassionate … to a fault. That was his fatal flaw. If he wasn’t so hell-bent on saving his potential birth mother he just met from that bomb despite everything she did to him prior, he could have protected himself instead, however slim his odds of survival were. What about his relationship with his other parents? He was a caregiver during his early childhood years for Catherine, until her death. Even mature adults who are financially stable find being a caregiver to a dying parent to be extremely burdensome on their bodies and minds, but he never complained about it or resented Catherine for being unable to care for him. Despite how none of his parents have really been what he needed them to be, he doesn’t blame them for their failings, and even continues to think highly of them (Bruce included).

And post-death? Enter Lost Days. Despite being dead set on plotting his revenge on Bruce, he constantly sidelines this in order to save other victims who are helpless like he once was. His own anger, trauma, and mission don’t remain his priority. (Sound familiar? Something something my own trauma above my son’s, mission above all else, etc.). Why would he waste precious time and risk his own life to do this if he wasn’t empathetic towards these victims or didn’t care about doing the right thing. He is simultaneously horribly traumatized and full of rage, and also incapable of ignoring what’s happening to victims around him (even as he claims that it’s indeed not his priority). And in that same vein, the entire premise of his rebirth outlaws run was that he doesn’t care if the public views him as a villain, an outlaw, so long as he can protect Gotham. And anyway where is this portrayal of him not caring about being in the right anymore. Almost every modern Jason story is about him grappling with where he stands with Bruce/Batman. During the early 2000s was probably the last time he did not care (hello, tentatodd??).

Jason has very evidently been portrayed as a kind and compassionate character. He is also simultaneously a calculated killer who doesn’t hesitate to kill when he deems necessary, and does so without remorse. It’s called being a Complex Character With An Edge™ that as you said, people so often claim to love. However when he fulfills that latter part, that seems to upset people because “killing bad”, and they then try to shave off and round out all his edges and claim he shouldn’t be that angry. In that case I guess you should just stick to liking traditional one-dimensional characters instead of claiming to like Jason but then encouraging his character assassination attempt by dc. Lol.

Lastly, who said anything about the batfam making Jason happy? Just because he’s written nowadays to want acceptance from Bruce (a shoddy attempt at forcing a non-existent nuclear batfamily), doesn’t mean that it’s a sound decision or that it does his character justice. I certainly don’t empathize with the idea that Jason needs the family’s approval or acceptance to be happy. (And anyway he has enough outlets for angst and pain aside from the batfam hello explore his other sources of trauma and do more deep dives into how he thinks when he’s alone). I don’t want them to magically make up and become one big happy family. This is not disney Lol. Besides, there are plenty of stories from dc that have that type of “wholesome” (hate that word utilization) characterization for Jason (Li’l Gotham, Tiny Titans, wfa, and even new stuff like the brave and the bold mini) and that is sufficient imo. Jason fans who are invested in the character deserve accurate, nuanced characterization and well-written stories, whether they be from his robin days (e.g., Batman: The Cult) or as red hood.

#fellas. ya know what else is wholesome? avenging your own death #you can have moments of ‘reconciliation’ or peace but still maintain a strained relationship which is far more realistic #‘he’s an asshole that kills’ and Bruce is an asshole who doesn’t kill. lol.#you can’t claim Jason’s conflicted and disturbed but go on to say Bruce is perfectly sane those two are mutually exclusive #also please realize that a character acting out of anger does not mean they lack compassion.#implying that he doesn’t care about doing the right thing is saying the same thing that person said;#that he doesn’t actually know what he’s doing. that he hasn’t thought through his moral stance.#‘Jason didn’t put any thought into anything he did in utrh he’s just a poor mentally ill lost soul who needs the batfam’s love to heal 💔’#🤝#‘jokers just a poor victim of society 😔 he just needs someone to understand him and maybe one day he’ll heal and realize he’s wrong’#what they both have in common is that they’re misunderstood in opposite directions #the joker doesn’t have a point to prove. there’s no deeper meaning behind what he does. everything is a joke to him.#he isn’t unaware of right vs wrong lmfao #jason todd #dc #asks #my post #and I think you’re implying that he’s utilitarian based on that last part but I don’t think he is #user mintacle posted a few metas regarding that and again they explain it much better than I prob could #anyway it isn’t difficult to understand his character if you know why you like him and you actually read his stories #that post specifically was from someone who clearly said they did not read the comic so. technically they’re on their own wavelength #edit: grammar

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nerdieforpedro · 7 months

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Let me wash your hair

Frankie Morales x female reader

Fanfiction (18+) nothing explicit but just implied

Summary: Frankie feels she’s doing way too much. His wife feels like it’s just right. A promise is the only reason he agrees.

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, pregnancy, slight self-doubt, angst

“Frankie! Frankie, where are you?” A woman yelled, echoing throughout the home.

Frankie has chosen to go out to the garage. He was not up for what his wife was trying do.. Instead, he was going to see if he could wait her out and then go in when she needed to prop her feet up again. Then see if he could, just you know, avoid it, but his wife is almost as persistent as he is. That’s why he loved her and married her, so she waddled throughout the house looking for her catfish.

“Francisco! Francisco Morales, you come here right now!”

He knew it was bad because she was saying his entire first name. She normally just calls him Frankie, so he sighed and retreated from the garage and headed to the house.

“Yes, mi amor, estoy aquí (my love, I am here). What do you need?” He knew darn well what she was after, the pilot just thought it was weird. His wife put her hands on her wide hips and poked out her very pregnant belly that honestly looked like her water could break at any moment, though she was only seven and a half months along. The doctor had said apparently, they were going to have twins to which, Frankie, celebrated how strong is swimmers were, and his wife slapped his shoulder and bemoaned about how fertile both sides of her family are.

Catfish’s wife was looking for him for a very different reason. She insisted that she would wash Frankie’s hair. The pilot did not understand the point of this, he could wash his own hair and he didn’t really even have that much hair in comparison to her, and especially since you know she’s carrying his children. He didn’t feel that she should be up and moving around like this anyway, she should be sitting on the chair or laying on the bed with feet propped up and he should be feeding her as far as he’s concerned, but she said no. Despite being pregnant, she still wanted to do things for Frankie, little things since her positions in bed were a bit limited and her husband spent quite a bit of time exploring her new body.

The pilot’s wife was insistent, that she wash his hair. He asked her why and she said he deserves to be pampered to which he laughed, and she did not take that well. The mother to be pinched his cheeks and said that Francisco Morales deserves to be pampered just as much as he pampers her so he will let her wash his hair. Frankie said that instead he could just be between her legs and that would be fine for him. You know, it always works for him, but she said no and his wife in fact had the fortitude to turn him down this entire week.

Just nothing. Nada.

Only kisses and hugs, so in addition to just being generally annoyed at this whole hair thing, he was also very sexually frustrated. His wife told him that he could be between her legs for as long he liked, if she let him wash his hair. Today was supposed to be the day but he was avoiding it because he figured after a week maybe she’ll just give in. Maybe just let him have her. But he had truly forgotten that his wife was the same woman who made a point to ride him reverse cowgirl for a week each time they had sex just because he mentioned he liked it once.

Francisco held his hands out and his wife took him by the rest and pulled him upstairs. She sat him on the edge of the tub in their master bathroom. Told him to strip down naked then began wetting his hair and lathering it the shampoo. Frankie didn’t know that head and shoulders made really good smelling shampoo like that. His wife laughed and told him to relax and just let her take care of him. Frankie told her that that’s what she normally does anyway so he doesn’t really see what’s so important about the hair, she just told him that he would see.

When she had covered all of his hair with the shampoo, her fingernails started grazing his scalp and working up the lather working circles and his scalp around his ears around his temples the back of his skull, he gripped his own knees and hummed, so this is what she meant maybe he should’ve accepted sooner. It was unwinding his stress about having hair done and making his pretty wife stand on her swollen feet. She rinsed his head of the shampoo to make sure she got all of it then repeated the same process with the conditioner. She said that the conditioner had to stay in for a few minutes, so in that time she just kept needing his head. She also started singing, not a song really, just some ‘la la la’s.’ Francisco nearly fell back. Do you know how relaxed he felt?

Something about the heat of the water, the soft hands of his wife roaming his scalp and Frankie’s hand groping her belly periodically to feel the babies kick. They have decided to keep the gender a secret from them both. They wanted it to be a surprise. Mainly, they just wanted to know that both babies were healthy, and that mommy was healthy as well. She rinsed the conditioner out of his hair and then got the blow dryer and dried his hair, the heat felt good on his head.

Francisco looked up at his wife. He was always in awe of what she was willing to do for him, whether it was to help care for a daughter that grew to be hers, to care for a man who disappeared for about two weeks without a trace, and then only came back with more PTSD than when he left with. She stuck by him and loved him and now was going to give him children to top it off. She was also willing to wash his hair and massage his scalp.

Francisco, never thought of himself as a good man, an honorable one but not a good one, so he wondered if that was enough to have this type of beautiful simple life with his lovely, perfect wife and his adorable little girl and soon to be two more wonderful additions to the family.

His wife is playing with his curls twirling then, she said she was debating whether or not to put rollers in his hair to see if she can get them even more curly. He politely declined, and instead decided to scoop her up and carry her the short distance to the bed as he reminded her, he was promised a tour between her legs.

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@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @psychedelic-ink @pamasaur @pedrodascal @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @mintypossum @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @awilderi @deviinci @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @magpiepillsjunior @i-own-loki @beabliss @saturn-rings-writes @megamindsecretlair @musings-of-a-rose @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @laurfilijames @for-a-longlongtime @rhoorl @legendary-pink-dot @maggiemayhemnj @mandoisapunk @trulybetty @avastrasposts

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #fluff #implied smut #catfish pond #frankie friday #frankie catfish morales

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mikoran · 2 months

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yknow its probably a good thing that the themes of control and the fact that frisk doesnt equal the player etc werent like the Main thing with undertale because the fandom so horribly interpreted everything about it early on that it served as a great display of what toby needed to do to Not Mess It Up in deltarune where its basically the whole point

#like its also very important to undertale but if you completely miss that part youll end up fine #undertales story always felt more centric on the monsters of the underground while deltarune seems more focused on the story of kris and #their struggle with being a literal puppet to the player #like frisk is just kinda There. they dont really rebel and we actually know like nothing about them because theyre like. compliant i guess?#but kris does Not Take That Shit and is constantly fighting against it #its the whole point #sigh… chara they did you so dirty im sorry #like chara is morally grey as hell and they are Fascinating and have a lot going on with them that the fandom just. so horrible butchered #”oh this character is implied to have not been a great person? they have some ‘creepy’ dialogue? lol bloodthirsty murderer”#SO glad we left that era #chara loved monsters and was all about consequences!!! HOW DID WE ALL GET THAT SO WRONG #i have a lot of thoughts about this as you can tell #undertale #deltarune

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blimbo-buddy · 5 months

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It's so funny to me to see the lengths people would go to as to insist that you're not a good person or are questionable if you wished ShadowSight had died in ALITM instead

"But it implies that you can't heal from your trauma and it'd just be sad". A: How does it imply that, B: I dunno I think ShadowSight gaining his autonomy back and killing his abuser feels narratively satisfying C: ShadowSight isn't real D: Throwing yourself into evil death water to destroy the antichrist and save your world isn't a thing that happens

#blimbo rambles #wc #I get feeling uncomfortable with it for one reason or another #but to imply that somebody who wanted ShadowSight to gain his autonomy back through an act that would destroy #him but also solidify him into Clan history as a hero - destroying his abuser in the process-#is actually somebody who is morally questionable/reprehensible is fucking stupid and the evil killing water doesn't exist #and shadowsight is just a narrative tool and none of these characters are real #shadowsight cannot see me making these kinds of posts and if he *did* he'd probably agree that he wanted to die

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miraclemaya · 2 months

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wizards are evil.

#ive been thinking about a story im 'writing' and like original one of thr characters was very much going to be implied to have in the past #tortured people to death repeatedly #but i think that would make readers greatly dislike her to the point that that would make them stop the book #even though that's just what wizards are about #you don't become a wizard by respecting morality

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imsosocold · 1 year

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#yes Belos did manipulate them #but they also did a lot of fucked up things of their own violation #especially the Collector who's implied to have committed genocide against the Titans #who was fine with all the witches and demons dying as long as he got freed #quit ripping all the nuance away from morally complex characters #and pinning it on the big bad TM to make yourself feel better for liking them #lilith clawthorne #lilith clawthorne critical #the collector #the collector critical #the owl house fandom critical #owl house fandom critical #toh fandom critical #the owl house #owl house #toh #noelle's rants

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mybrainproblems · 1 year

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okay so when you watch hate crimes md focusing predominantly on wilson it opens up a whole new... idk about calling it a new lens to view the show but i find it fucking captivating that he is just Not A Good Person but he is very good at putting on that facade and seems to be aware that he's a really shitty person. and the show both highlights it and pulls its punches about it in early seasons. it's fascinating!

and like. house md is not a subtly-written show. i wasn't in the fandom when i was watching live and i don't know a lot of the bts stuff but i have to wonder how much of that came from the writers vs RSL. like he has such a pleasant manner and cancer patients thank him for their diagnoses and then under all that is this absolutely deplorable and selfish person. he will just do something terrible and it never feels random or out of character. outstanding. love it.

#this rewatch is so interesting bc it's not that i've never given thought to wilson! but i didn't focus so much on him so much before #i always forget that he literally just blows off his wife on xmas to hang out with house. the case is solved! it wasn't even his case!#it's not like it's 3am or anything! he just consistently blows off his wife and hides behind 'she's used to it bc i'm a doctor'#and the constantly implied affairs that he denies in s1/2 but also writers seem to not want to touch that is just alsjfdjkf #the ''you'd be surprised what you can live with'' of it all #he sleeps with a patient and *moves in with her* ... is house *really* the most morally questionable character?#bc wilson is pretty fucking morally bankrupt and i love that for him #like tbh house and wilson deserve each other and it's a net win if they get together remove each other from the dating pool #james wilson #hate crimes md

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starbuck · 2 months

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i can’t remember if i ever actually made the Ravenous Ghost Bell analysis post, but i wish i had time to make it because i feel like it would be received well in this moment…

#i mean… tldr: ghosts are real in Ravenous #mostly in the heads of the people who ate them #both to harass them in nightmares but also to influence their physical actions #(usually as an echo of something they themselves did in life)#there are COUNTLESS examples of this - which i will give the highlights of when i actually DO make the post #but there’s specifically a moment in the final Boyd-Ives showdown where a bell is rung #and we don’t see who rang it but it causes Boyd to focus and draws him to the barn where he sees the bear trap and is Inspired #and we can presume that the bear trap was Reich’s idea (based on that deleted bear trap shooting scene that i made the gifset of)#but then WHO rang the bell??#obviously it is implied to (and must have been) Ives #but why did he do it?#to get Boyd’s attention - naturally… sounds like him #he knows that time is ticking… wants to lure Boyd to his trap #BUT the thing is that Ives ate Reich too #and i feel like (being a long-time cannibal with no moral compass) he is probably Less influenced by the people he eats than Boyd is #but i also like to think that - in that moment - Reich subconsciously influenced him to do it #because - notably - Reich was the one who rung that bell the last time he left Fort Spencer - he’s the only character we see so it #so like. tldr again: ghosts are Real in Ravenous and Reich’s ghost rung the bell in that scene #to help Boyd focus and lead him to the solution that would give him the upper hand in the conflict to defeat Ives #and someday i will write ALL of that up properly - but it’s just SO good and i love to talk about it #so here i am #ghostposting the night away…#not tagging this because i want the REAL analysis to get notes whenever i post that #but feel FREE to chat with me about this if you see it!#i love Ravenous and i miss talking about it #i have SO much to say lol

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pedrostylez · 3 months

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How The Crow Flies - pt. 6

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 3k

Chapter Summary: The Triple Frontier crew gets the information they need to raid the house; you ignore Javier's calls

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. DUBCON, Mentions of SA, SMUT!!!! oral f receiving, dirty talk, Frankie is struggling with addiction and you're it, baby

A/N: I realize that this is a very Frankie-heavy few chapters; do not worry, Javi makes a return eventually. You're not ready for the next chapter okay I'm just saying

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981

Sweat sticks in between your shoulder blades, walking down the now familiar path to the back of Lorea’s home. A smile comes to your lips, unable to hold it back as you recall that just moments ago he was in the car passing yours. His window rolled down during the checkpoint to let you through, and he nodded as he drove by.

He nodded.

He has no idea who you are.

It gave you confidence to know that you were at least tricking the highest man of authority in this part of the jungle. Your ears perked at the sound of the otherwise still jungle rustling with movement.

It reminded you that you couldn’t trick the man lurking in the trees, smirking at you when you made direct eye contact before entering the home. His brown eyes somehow shining in the darkness, the flutter of his eyelashes hitting his cheek as he winked at you.

He hadn’t done more than say he knew you weren’t a whore, but what else he knew was still a mystery. You had to remain careful, quiet and unassuming.

Beat him at his own game.

“Come here, bonita.” One of the guards calls, reclined in one of the living room seats with his friends surrounding him, laughing. You’re shaken out of your thoughts, turning to him with a sly little smile that you have perfected during your time here. “I’ll give you a stack of American money this time around if you do a good job.”

The term “American money” peaks your interest, the distinction between that and what you had been paid previously. Was this the money that everyone was talking about? You sink to your knees in front of him, tilting your head and giving him the biggest smile you can manage. “What do you mean?”

His breathing has picked up, chest rising and falling in anticipation as his fingers are trying to undo his pants as quickly as possible. “I’ll get you a stack from the safe.”

Bingo.

You nod, lowering your eyes to the bulge in his jeans, thinking over how you will follow him to the safe itself. “Only if you’re allowed?” You ask quietly, trying to remain as innocent looking as possible. You don’t want him to get in trouble, afterall; he’s your most frequent customer. You can’t for the life of you remember his name.

He nods so quickly and aggressively you think that his head will fly off his neck. “Boss won’t mind.”

Frankie feels much calmer than usual, watching you walk into the house this time. A silent understanding that what you’re doing won’t affect him, and if anything you’ll be giving him information too. At least, that’s the impression he is under after you sucked him off again in the shower the other day.

He thinks it is sound reasoning.

He sits back against the tree, listening to Santiago over his ear piece. “Was worried she wasn’t going to last.” He grumbles, clicking off the microphone after a sigh.

It’s silent for another moment before he hears Redfly question, “Got scared of the security guards?”

“Not sure…was told she ditched early a few weeks ago, but she seems to have figured it out.” Frankie can hear Santiago’s shrug through the ear piece. He thinks of Yovanna whispering in Santiago’s ear most nights, likely in his bed or hers, and he rolls his eyes.

Then, Benny’s voice. “‘Saw she had a bloody lip the first week. I would have left early too.”

Frankie’s stomach clenches, remembering the first couple days that you had stumbled out of the back of the house with that fresh cut. He remembers how he saw it and didn’t say anything, because at the time it didn’t seem worth it to mention. Not worth bringing attention to something that wouldn’t matter in the long run. But now, suddenly–

“Fish, you got eyes on her?” Santiago rings in his ear again, snapping Frankie out of his thoughts. He looks to the door, your figure shadowed but prominent near the back entry.

“She’s still inside.” He says quietly, squinting to try and see better when you twirl and your laughter reaches his ears. “Talking them up.”

“I’m gettin’ real tired of waiting. When are we raidin’ this place?” Will chimes in.

“When we have some actual information.” Santiago spits.

You step out of the house, your purse over your shoulder and a large smile on your face. You’re holding a paper bag with both of your hands, looking in the trees briefly before stepping into the path.

“Boys, she’s got a bag.” Frankie whispers, hoping you don’t call for him before he can send the information out. “Paper–can’t see in it.” You step down the path out of Frankie’s sight. You’re not stopping for him today, disappointment roiling through his blood. He shakes his head at himself, thinking he should have known better than to get too attached. “Anyone got eyes on her?”

“Yeah I’ve got–” Will says quietly through the ear piece, cut off before he rushes. “She tripped, paper bag is full of money boys. Hundred dollar bills.”

“She trafficking?” Redfly whispers.

Frankie rolls his eyes again; Redfly always assumes the worst. Understandably, of course, but not with the context that Frankie has, and with the knowledge that Yovanna is the one in charge of the money, he shouldn’t think that. He goes to correct him, but Benny beats him to it. “She must have given them a show. Proves the money is there, boys.”

“Meeting tonight. All done for the day.” Santiago says, clicking off without another word.

Frankie sighs, wondering what it was that you did for the money. His chest tightens at the thought, pushing it away in the hopes that you would be at his door when he returned.

The steam off your coffee rolls up to your face, watching the motel quietly in the corner of the cafe. Calculations in your head tell you that you have 52 hours until you have to return to your post back with Javi. He’s been calling you nonstop, not leaving messages or text but calling twice a day.

You roll your eyes when you feel the tell tale vibrations coming from your pocket. The idea that he would be calling you more now was almost laughable, but after the last conversation you had with him, you're not surprised. Begrudgingly, you pull out your phone, surprised to see Yovanna’s name on the caller ID. You scan the road in front of you, pressing the receiver to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey!” She chirps over the speaker.

Your eyes remain on the building in front of you, watching the cars. “Hey Yovanna, what’s going on?”

“Just wanted to tell you that you are absolutely loved by the guys. Andres can’t get enough of you.” She sounds happy, suggestive in how she uses the man’s name. That must be who you sucked off this morning.

She prattles on, saying they are going to give you an advance of money in the hopes that you will stay for a few more days. “Oh, I can’t stay, I have to go back for a little while. But I’ll be back in a week or so?” You say calmly, continuing to survey the road in front of you.

It goes silent on the phone, and your focus comes back to the phone in your hand. Yovanna takes a deep breath, “The uh…the lease is up at the end of this week and...you won’t need to come back next week.”

You frown, confusion racing through your brain and how to ask what exactly is going on. “The lease? I would stay an extra day if I could–”

“It’s not you!” She says quickly, a faux laugh reaching your ears. “Just, I’m not going to be around next week, with the lease ending. I don’t want you here if I’m not here…I’ll have to find a new place for you to stay!”

You watch a car filled with men-Frankie in the passenger seat-pull into the parking lot across the street and you shake your head. “You don’t have to find a place for me, you gave me the job.” Something feels off in the pit of your stomach. “Why didn’t you tell me the lease was going to be done so soon?”

Through the speaker you hear a car door slam just as Santiago gets out of the car. You freeze, straining to listen. “Just don’t come back, okay?” She says quickly, waiting for your quiet reply of of course, sorry Yovanna before she says “Don’t apologize. Thank you…for all your help.” and hangs up the phone.

As you hang up and watch the men pile out of the vehicle, each nodding to each other and glancing at their watches as if they have agreed on a time, the gears in your head begin to turn, and you look down to your phone again to call Javi.

“Tonight, Fish. No staying in and avoiding us.” Benny calls from his door, looking through the openings of the metal stairs up to Frankie.

Frankie grunts in acknowledgement, ignoring any other comments being thrown at him and unlocking his room door to slide inside. He glances around briefly, all items still where they were left the night before, taking off his hat and setting it on the coffee table.

He’s conflicted, desperately wanting to see you again before the inevitable raid and fleeing they will be doing. He also doesn’t want to disappoint himself, knowing that nothing can continue with whatever is happening between the two of you.

Lying, fucking, pretending; all things he’s experiencing with you. Craves with you.

He could just leave you to whatever it was that you were doing–he didn’t actually have to know, did he? You dropping that bag of money in front of his team proves that what you’re doing doesn’t affect them.

Lost in his thoughts, he’s letting his boots slide off and a sigh leave his lips, before he hears a soft knock at his door. He’s too quick to open it, holding his breath when he sees you in front of him. He inhales as subtly as he possibly can when you slip past him into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“‘You have a habit of falling?” He asks, watching as you take off your own shoes like you plan on getting comfortable–plan on staying.

“Nice trick, wasn’t it?” You giggle, batting your eyelashes at him. “I figured someone would be watching.”

“How did you get paid that much?” He grinds out, trying to hold himself back. He doesn’t want to focus on this nagging thing in his chest, something he could potentially identify as jealousy. No–he wants to focus on the mission he was sent here for.

You smirk, shrugging. “I have my ways. Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” You call him out, tilting your head as he runs his hands through his hair, huffing out a heavy breath.

“Where was he keeping it?” Frankie presses, fingers tapping anxiously against his scalp. Maybe if he focuses on the facts, on the mission, he can stop this feeling in his stomach bubbling up into whatever he was afraid of it being.

You watch him, curious. “What do I get if I tell you?”

He freezes, watching for a second longer before a switch flips. Frankie can’t help himself–like his body is working with a separate mind, watching himself from overhead as he kneels in front of you. His knees crack, thudding on to the carpet and looking up at your body. He hears your gasp, watches how your eyes widen and darken, watching him before you.

Frankie licks his lips, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. “My mouth. My hands–whatever you want.”

You stand silent, mouth slightly opened as you breathe deeply.

His hands reach forward, pulling you by the hips closer to him. His mouth waters, at eye level with your belly button and he swears he can smell you. The want that is in his own pants, reflected in yours. “If I feel you right now, will you be wet?”

When he looks up again you’re already staring back at him, nodding silently. He moves the skirt of your dress out of the way-changed from what you wore into the jungle, and moves the palm of his hand over the front of your panties.

Warm and humid under his fingers, sliding down to where the fabric thins and becomes wet, he smiles. “Where was the money, hermosa?”

You swallow roughly, hands on his shoulders and digging your nails in. “A-A safe.” You close your eyes as his fingers move your underwear to the side. He notices how you shuffle your legs apart as slowly as possible, as if to not scare him away.

He lightly runs his first and second finger over your slit, exposing your clit and letting the wetness he had gathered on his fingers to circle around you. “Where was the safe?” He doesn’t recognize his own voice, feels like he is looking at himself from the ceiling instead of being in front of you. An out of body experience that he can relive over and over again.

The bite of your fingers at his shoulders has him suddenly back in his body, listening to your moan. “The master bedroom.” You close your eyes, throwing your head back to expose the column of your throat to him. He wants to plant a kiss there, bite down on your collarbone, but he remains on his knees. “There’s a cabinet in the way. I-It was like a secret door.”

Frankie hums happily, letting his other hand wrap around the back of your thighs and squeeze to maneuver that leg over his shoulder. “What a good girl, telling me that.” He growls out, leaning his mouth forward and suctioning around your clit.

It’s quick, how you wrap his hair around your fingers and tug. How you sigh happily and do your best to not lose your balance, but have to reach behind you to hold yourself up against the back of the couch.

Frankie devours you; he feels dizzy with how hard he is pushing his face into your heat and consuming your scent and taste. He closes his eyes, blissfully letting himself get lost in the addiction of you.

The only thing that may be better is that now he is convinced he will have a full bank account when he leaves Colombia.

When you come, Frankie doesn’t even realize you had been warning him. Your calls of “Frankie, honey–” And “Oh fuck–” hadn’t penetrated his concentration, his dedication to tasting you.

When he pulls away, looking up to your heaving chest and half glazed over eyes, he realized why he had devoted the time to you. Looking up at you he’s not sure he can go without you. He stands, still close to you but rests his hands on either side of the couch behind you. “When can I see you again?”

You huff, blinking until your eyes go wide and you laugh. “I am only here for a couple more days–”

Frankie shakes his head, knowing Santiago. The next two days will be full recon work, not just observing but notating down times that the family leaves. “Let me see you in three days.”

You pause, pushing the skirt of your dress down and frowning. “I have to get back to–”

“Please.” He breathes, bringing his lips close to yours. He knows you can smell yourself on him, but you don’t seem to care as your bottom lip brushes against yours. Frankie thinks he will never see you again.

He takes the chance, pressing himself against you and letting his mouth engulf your own. His tongue peeks out, dancing with yours briefly before he groans.

You pull away quickly, confusion threading through your features. You shake your head, putting a hand on his chest to push him away. He wants to push back against you, but he obliges, taking a step back.

Frankie thinks he’s fucked up now, sure that you’re going to leave without saying another word. But you don’t move, looking at the ground and thinking through something. You finally nod, stepping around him to the notepad that sits on the bedside table.

You write an address, setting it down gently and looking back at him. “I’ll only be there for a couple more days.”

Frankie shakes his head. “I’m telling you the truth, I can only be there on the third day. Santiago will–” He stops himself, pressing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. He smells you again and feels himself twitch in his pants. “I have to tie up loose ends. I want to see you again.”

You watch him, eyes wide and unmoving. “I don’t know that I can stay that long.”

Frankie feels like he might have to get on his knees again. He doesn’t reach for you, holding his hands wide, pleading. “Just one more time.”

You swallow, furrowing your brow and looking away. He can see how your eyes get glassy, confusion clear in your expression. When you shake your head, it's like you’ve cleared your thoughts and put up a wall. “You can come by and see if I am still there.”

Frankie nods, heat rushing to his cheeks in embarrassment. The fact that he begged you, makes him question if he should even bother showing up.

But when you head for the door and he follows to open it, you turn around and lunge yourself at him, kissing him and pulling him by the shirt closer to you. His arm wraps around your back, keeping you close to him.

His lips pull from yours, a smirk unable to stay down as his other hand reaches up to rub softly at your cheekbone. No words are further exchanged, you slipping out the room and across the street while he holds the door open to watch you.

Frankie glances to the stairs, the metal holes making it easy to see to Benny’s door. It too is wide open, watching him with a knowing smile on his face.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #triple frontier fic #triple frontier #htcf #how the crow flies #tw: dubcon #tw sa implied

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