#pacho herrera fanfic

[purplesong1028]

The Perfect Storm

Chapter 6: The Tug

Miguel brings Pacho to his apartment in Tijuana, and has a full-on crisis before hooking up.

Rating: PG 13

Paring: Pacho/Miguel

Words: 2,077

The maid looks surprised and slightly nervous when she opens the door for them. Maybe she simply didn’t anticipate him to be here, or maybe she was doing things she shouldn’t be doing at his apartment. If this was another time, maybe Miguel would have cared more, but tonight, the Colombian behind him, closer than necessary, he just dismisses her and tells her to come back tomorrow evening.

Pacho leans back against the closed door and crosses his arms, head slightly tilted to the side, an intriguing mix of interest and challenge. “Tomorrow evening? That’s a generous amount of time.”

Miguel avoids Pacho’s amused gaze without thinking, but then forces himself to meet the other man’s eyes again. His palms feel a little wet, but he resists the urge to wipe them on his blazer.

“Do you want another drink?” He walks to the bar. That’s always a safe choice.

“No.” The smooth voice is right behind his shoulder, hot breath brushing the side of his neck.

He jumps and turns around. The next second, a pair of soft lips covers his.

Miguel hears himself making a surprised sound, but his heartbeats are way louder. His eyes are still open, and every tiny detail on Pacho’s face becomes alive from memory, from thick eyelashes to sharp cheekbones, still too fresh to be buried despite his best efforts.

The tip of a tongue touches his mouth, tentative and teasing, irresistibly delicious. He feels his own lips part as his eyes close, like a magic switch in his brain was flipped open, past memories and present reality mixed into one mesmerizing sensation.

The muscles on his back slowly relax against the bar, waist gently pressed against the smooth edge of marble.

He hears a chuckle, and then the tongue pulls away, not forgetting to give his lips another playful lick. He leans forward to chase it before he could stop himself.

“You know, you could have just told me you missed me.” Pacho presses their foreheads together, skillful fingers working a button open on his shirt.

Just one, just enough to expose his collarbones so the Colombian can ruthlessly sink his teeth in them.

A pained groan escapes his throat. Miguel grabs a handful of Pacho’s smooth hair and yanks hard. The other man surprisingly doesn’t fight him, seemingly satisfied to leave his neck alone after making a quick mark.

“What the fuck was that?!” He hisses as he touches the bright red bite mark on his body.

Pacho shrugs. It’s fucking unfair to still look that good when his hair is all messed up. “You didn’t mind a little bit of pain last time.”

Last time, Pacho bit his neck just like that, and he squeezed Pacho’s dick in response, the hot flesh throbbing in his palm…

Miguel doesn’t know how his face betrayed him, but the smirk on Pacho’s face grows increasingly more pleased.

“Come on then. Show me the bedroom.”

*

Miguel is honestly impressed at himself for finding a bedroom on his first try, since he has completely forgotten what this penthouse looks like. Maybe this isn’t the master bedroom, he can’t tell, but it looks big enough and has a full bathroom attached to it, so that’s good for tonight.

Pacho takes a quick glance around, eyes lingering on the king-sized bed. “Do the Arellanos know about this place?”

Miguel feels like he’s just been splashed by cold water, his body and mind coming to a halt at the potential dire threat.

Do they? He has never brought any of them here or told them about it, but this isn’t a safehouse, just a regular property, so it’s possible that Benjamín already found out about its existence.

What if someone has been in here before? What if there are cameras?!

No. That’s extremely unlikely. He has security here, and he has eyes in Tijuana too. Benjamín wouldn’t dare…even he hasn’t done anything like that to the Arellano’s properties in Guadalajara.

“Miguel.” Pacho calls him again, now in a serious demeanor like they’re in a business meeting, as if the new bite mark under his shirt doesn’t exist. “This is your place. I’m asking you: does anyone know?”

He should call it off. He hasn’t been here in years. How can he be sure? If this place isn’t secure…fuck, he doesn’t even want to imagine. However, admitting that in front of Pacho would mean he doesn’t trust his own security system in Mexico, that he can’t even feel protected in his own house. What does that say about him? What would Cali think?

“This is a secure location. No one’s listening.” He speaks before he runs out of time. If he takes too long to answer, it doesn’t matter what he says. He will just have to do a complete security check tomorrow, and hopefully he won’t find anything. But if he does, he’ll smash whatever he finds as well as the people who put them in here.

Pacho leans sideways on the dresser, eyes narrowed, clearly trying to figure out if he’s really as confident as he sounds.

“There are people living downstairs though.” Miguel shrugs, making it seem like he was hesitating for other reasons. “You know, regular people with ears.”

Pacho snorts, but his posture relaxes. “So? Do you plan to scream?”

Miguel feels his heart just hit his throat. He swallows it back down. “Do you?”

“Guess I won’t be able to.” Pacho pushes himself up from the dresser, and slowly paces to the bed. “What a shame.”

Miguel watches him take off his watch and place it on the nightstand. This is nothing. Pacho isn’t even showing any skin besides the already half-exposed chest. Yet somehow it feels more alluring than a model stripping down to her lingeries.

Meeting his eyes, Pacho then slips the ring off his finger, slow enough for Miguel to take a close look at those long fingers and remember how they felt against his body last time.

He feels his breath becoming faster, his blood starting to rush down. Should he do something? Who undressed first last time? Fuck, why can’t he remember anything when he needs it the most?

“Settle down. We have until tomorrow evening, remember?” Pacho takes off his necklace with the large golden cross. The metal touches the wooden nightstand, making a brisk sound. Then he smiles at Miguel, almost in a comforting way, but there’s only tease and enjoyment in his eyes. “Where are your manners? At least let your guest take a shower first.”

*

Miguel paces on the soft carpet, listening to the sound of water running. It hasn’t even been ten minutes, but it already feels unbearably long. He wants Pacho to come out right now so they can get on with…whatever they will do this time. Anything is better than waiting for something to happen.

His forehead starts to sweat, so he takes off his expensive blazer and throws it over the back of a chair.

Should he take more clothes off? He imagines the Colombian coming out of the bathroom wearing only a bathrobe, or a towel. Wouldn’t it be weird if he’s still fully dressed?

Suddenly he feels embarrassingly unprepared. He never bothered with those questions before. The women he paid for were willing to do all the work, whatever he wanted at the moment, undressing him slowly while leaving a trail of kisses, or simply unbuttoning his pants and going straight to business.

Would Pacho be willing to do the same? From what he could tell, the other man actually quite enjoyed taking initiative last time, but that thought doesn’t relax him at all. If anything, it makes him even more restless now.

He hears the bathroom door open.

He takes a deep breath and turns around.

Pacho walks out wearing a white bathrobe, hair still wet, tanned skin slightly flushed with heat. Miguel swallows, feeling his own cheeks turning hot. The robe isn’t even short, but this is still the most he’s ever seen from Pacho, since he couldn’t see anything last time.

Pacho walks to the bed and sits down comfortably. Miguel can’t see from this angle, but he just knows there’s nothing underneath that robe between Pacho’s legs.

“Are you always this nervous?” Pacho turns to meet his eyes with a smirk, a strand of wet hair falling on his forehead. “Doesn’t seem to fit your reputation.”

“Hard to match your reputation.”

It was meant to be a mild insult, but came out more like a compliment.

Pacho just shrugs. “Well, you better start practicing then.”

If he needed more provocation before, that definitely did the job. He strides towards the bed before he can think it through, and before he knows it, their lips meet again, his knee pushed between Pacho’s naked legs, his fingers intertwined in Pacho’s hair.

The familiar taste of alcohol and cigarettes is gone, replaced by a pleasant minty flavor, refreshing and natural, an enticing contrast.

Miguel deepens the kiss, shoving his tongue into the other man’s mouth while pressing his knee harder into the vulnerable flesh, feeling it harden against him. He expected Pacho would fight him, not used to being in a passive position, but the Colombian doesn’t appear to be bothered by his slight aggression at all. If anything, Pacho seems rather pleased by his eagerness, gently rocking against him, setting up a comfortable rhythm.

His shirt gets unbuttoned one by one, warm fingertips brushing his bare skin, from neck to chest, to abdomen, and further down…

He grabs Pacho’s hand before it reaches for his belt buckle.

Pacho breaks away from the kiss, blinking up at him with a questioning look. From this angle, he almost looks harmless, if Miguel can ignore the clear tease and desire in his eyes.

He hurries to unbuckle his own belt and slip out of his pants before one of the thousand reasons in his brain can stop him. Pacho doesn’t waste one second to reach for his dick as soon as it touches air.

It’s a little scary how he feels himself instantly growing larger in these warm, calloused hands. “Wow, you must have really missed me.” Pacho huffs, “what, getting tired of your beautiful young wife already?”

Miguel doesn’t talk about his wife while having sex with others. He knows some men like to complain about their boring wives at home while fucking some exciting new lover, but he’s never done that.

There was nothing to complain about María. She didn’t believe him when he told her that, which was understandable. He didn’t even know how to explain it to himself.

With Daniella, there’s also nothing to complain about, because he doesn’t really expect anything from her, so what can he possibly be unhappy about?

“You know it’s different.” He tells Pacho.

Pacho smiles and pulls him closer, pressing their hard desires tightly together. “Well, I would hope so.”

Miguel shrugs off his open shirt and moves them further up the bed, having no interest to continue this conversation. A sense of raw hungriness flashes across Pacho’s face as the Colombian sees his naked body, and Miguel feels like he’s about to burn up under Pacho’s unmasked desire.

A desire for his bare body and nothing else.

Many people might find that demeaning, but not him. Having someone want him like that, even if that someone is Pacho, makes his heart flutter in a way that it hasn’t done in years, sending a rush of tickling warmth through his whole body.

His face must have betrayed him somehow, because the next second, a hand reaches the back of his scalp and pushes him down, crushing their lips back together.

Miguel lets out a satisfied moan, his face tingles as Pacho takes the lead with that infuriatingly talented tongue. Seriously, how can anyone be this good at kissing?!

Miguel grabs Pacho’s shoulders and presses him into the soft mattress, and then slowly traces down along his strong arms, reaching for the hands.

With his heated brain, Miguel briefly considers pining both Pacho’s hands above his head, but then quickly realizes that’s not possible without a fight, a fight that he probably can’t win. So he settles with just holding them, a much more gentle gesture than he intended.

Pacho smiles against his lips, and then licks his cheek, playfully nudging his neck.

“Which way do you want it?”

And just like that, his mind goes blank again.

@naeviaanoai @mandaloria314 @ashlingiswriting @hausofmamadas @narcolini @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @anunhealthydoseofangst @dashavau @drabbles-mc @sikkui @artemiseamoon (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off this list.)

#narcos #narcos mexico #narcos mexico fanfic #pacho herrera #miguel angel felix gallardo #pacho/miguel #pacho x miguel #pacho herrera fanfic #the perfect Storm

[hausofmamadas]

PACHO Y MIGUEL | An enemies to lovers hatestory for the ages

✷✷✷ PT 1 ✷✷✷

Salud a mi gente! This little gif dump is the first of two or maybe three sksks for my df (dear friend) @purplesong1028 and her Pacho/Miguel fanfic, A Perfect Storm. Feel free to gaze at these thurstily and then go read the entire fic. It’s one of those where like it should make no sense? Except like it fully fucking does?? A testament to @purplesong1028’s skills, si me sienten.

From Narcos: Mexico, Season 2, episode 1 - Salva el Tigre

᪥

᪥

It’s funny too bc I never would’ve put these two together but like now, I can’t unsee them. Like I never noticed how much Miguel actually, genuinely legit looks like he’s checking out Pacho appreciating mans for the snack that he is por supuesto until the pair was like incepted into my mind. It’s almost like a funhouse mirror where if you turn off the subtitles so you can ignore the canonically antagonistic dialogue, which is anywhere from one of those passive agressive, Real-World, reality TV type of confessionals, to a full-on Untucked brawl with these two pettiest of queens duking it out and just watch them interact, the looks of hate? somehow? Turn into like?? looks of ….longing to hate-fuck instead?? It makes no sense except it fully does. So, if any of that along with Pacho being cool, quippy, and clever and Miguel being hilariously neurotic, becoming undone by his own internalized homophobia and machismo sounds like your thing, fíjatela en chinga, enserio mis cabrones

═

taglist(have some gifs): @ashlingnarcos @cherixrosa @narcolini @cositapreciosa @purplesong1028 @criatividad-e @tinylittleobsessions @cigarettesaftersunset @artemiseamoon @narcos-narcosmx @thesolotomyhan @mandaloria314 @bellinitini @narcosmx @alreadywritten @drabbles-mc @complete-nonsequitur @narcosmx @dashavau

#pacho herrera x miguel felix gallardo #miguel x pacho #miguel ángel félix gallardo x pacho herrera #narcos #narcos mexico #here in the house of mamadas #yes we do take gif requests #netflix narcos #netflix narcos mexico #homemade gifs #narcos mexico fanfic #narcos fanfic

[ashlingnarcos]

✏️ SIGNUPS OPEN for Narcos Fanfic Exchange 2022! ✏️

✏️ Make a Narcos gift, receive a Narcos gift. OG, MX, and crossovers, all are welcome! 500 word minimum. It’s like a Secret Santa, basically! Feel free to message me, shoot me an ask, DM me in Discord, or email me at [email protected] if you have any questions :)

✏️ Everything closes/is due/is revealed at 9:59pm EST.    Saturday, August 13—Signups & tagset nominations end    Saturday, September 3—Assignments due    Saturday, September 10—Gifts revealed    Saturday, September 17—Authors revealed

✏️You can:

Sign up here on AO3.

Read the rules here on Dreamwidth.

Exchange collection profile here on AO3.

View the tagset here on AO3.

Join the fandom chat here on Discord.

#Narcos Fanfic Exchange 2022 #Narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #narcos mexico imagine #narcos imagine #narcos mexico fanfiction #narcos mexico fanfic #narcos fandom event #Ramón Arellano Félix #Horacio Carrillo #Javier Peña #Pacho Herrera #Miguel Angel Felix Gallardo #Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo

[narcosfandomdiscord]

narcos fandom smut alphabet - finished!

you know what goes really well with summer sunshine and narcos tv rewatches? SMUTTY FIC!

(they put that bisexual lighting on Isabella for a reason, after all!)

this was our first month of prompts over at @narcosfandomdiscord! for every letter of the alphabet, we had two smutty prompts that fanfic writers used for inspiration. 🥰 our group ambition was to create at least one fic per letter—26 new narcos smut fics during the month of July—and we totally smashed it, in large part thanks to prolific work from @salt-is-a-terrible-currency. happy reading!

if you prefer reading on ao3, check out our collection. all fics tagged as #nffalphabet on tumblr. and it's just that simple 🥰

if you have any questions, you can message us on tumblr or join our narcos fandom discord here!

🍰 Prompt List & Fic Masterlist 🍰

July 1 — A — angry sex, anal

Right For Once by @drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, angry sex, 2.3k

Infuriating by @salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, angry sex, 1.5k

Our Man In Mexico by @hausofmamadas — Horacio Carrillo x Andrea Nuñez, angry sex, 2.5k

July 2 — B — blood, bound & begging

Final Warning by @purplesong1028 — Amado x Pacho, bound & begging, 490

Please (with your finger) by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, bound & begging, 1.2k

blood on vacation by @ashlingnarcos — David Barrón x f!Reader, blood, 1.8k

July 3 — C — cuffs, choking

If I go too far by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, choking, 737

mentirosos by @narcolini — Kitty Paez x gn!Reader, cuffs, 1.1k

July 4 — D — domesticity, “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us.”

Taking Care by drabbles-mc — Diego Ramirez (Narcos OC) x F!Reader, domesticity, 2.1k

Lipstick's smudged by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, domesticity and “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us", 447

A Few Moments by @purplesong1028 — Miguel Félix/Pacho Herrera, “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us", 482

July 5 — E — edging, eldritch

The first time I felt a ghost by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, eldritch, 716

July 6 — F — fight or fuck?, friends with benefits

No relationship talk by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, friends with benefits, 422

Unbroken Rules by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, friends with benefits, 2.9k

July 7 — G — gag/gagging, gun play

Paper-thin walls by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, gag/gagging, 361

Whatever He Wants by purplesong1028 — Amado Carrillo Fuentes x Miguel Félix, gun play, 416

July 8 — H — honor bondage, hatesex

Dress blues by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader x Gurney Halleck, honor bondage, 1.8k

THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US by hausofmamadas — Enedina Arellano x David Barrón, honor bondage, 2k

July 9 — I — infidelity, in public

Never meet your heroes by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, in public, 955

Don't Mention It by drabbles-mc — Javier Peña x f!Reader, infidelity and in public, 2.7k

No Strong Suit by purplesong1028 — Miguel Félix x Pacho Herrera, infidelity, 439

July 10 — J — jealousy, "just shut up already"

Unprofessional by drabbles-mc — Walt Breslin x f!Reader, jealousy, 4.3k

A bad idea by @artemiseamoon — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, jealousy, 2.3k

The ring by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, jealousy, 1.1k

July 11 — K — knotting, knocked up

Which time? by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, knocked up, 418

Secrets in the night by artemiseamoon — Horacio Carrillo x Original Female Character, knocked up, 3.5k

Someday When It's Over by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x Original Female Character, knocked up, 2.8k

July 12 — L — luxury, lingerie

Eres guapa by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, lingerie, 544

Desire by artemiseamoon — Enedina Arellano x Original Female Character, lingerie and luxury, 3.9k

Round-trip Ticket by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x Original Female Character, lingerie, 7.7k

July 13 — M — mirrors, "make me forget (all about him/her/it/them)"

Another brick in the wall by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, make me forget, 812

Favors Owed by drabbles-mc — Maria Elvira x gn!Reader, make me forget, 2.7k

Like Old Times by artemiseamoon — Judy Moncada x Original Female Character, mirrors, 1.4k

July 14 — N — nipple play, "no one does it like you"

No One Like You by drabbles-mc — Javier Peña x f!Reader, no one does it like you, 2k

Sore by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, nipple play, 580

July 15 — O — on all fours, one night stand

Cascade by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, one night stand, 580

July 16 — P — praise kink, pulling hair

Dress blues, pt 2 by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader x Gurney Halleck, praise kink, 404

July 17 — Q — quiet (or trying to be), quickie

Sweet, sharp, addictive by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, quiet (or trying to be) and quickie, 464

July 18 — R — role reversal, ruined

Bad Guy Treatment by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, role reversal, 3.8k

What is she to him by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, ruined, 444

July 19 — S — submit, "say my name"

Stoke the flames by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, submit, 387

July 20 — T — trapped together, tied up

On company time by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, trapped together, 574

July 21 — U — upper hand, underwater

The Weight of It All by drabbles-mc — Walt Breslin x Sal Orozco, underwater, 2k

he keeps his rules. you keep him. by ashlingnarcos — Horacio Carrillo x gn!Reader, upper hand, 1.1k

Polkadots by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, underwater, 359

July 22 — V — virginity (loss or roleplay), video

Off the Backburner by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, virginity, 4.1k

In this moment of pretend by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, virginity roleplay, 435

July 23 — W — "we probably shouldn't do this", worship

Stay A Little Longer by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, "we probably shouldn't do this", 1.5k

Lunch break daydream by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, "we probably shouldn't do this", 497

July 24 — X — exhibitionism, exes having sex

It's complicated by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Helena, exes having sex, 971

Not Yours Anymore by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x Original Female Character, exes having sex, 3.2k

no witness by ashlingnarcos — Walt Breslin x f!Reader, exes having sex, 2.4k

July 25 — Y — yearning, "you look good like this"

Superman (4) by @garbinge — Javier Peña x f!Reader, "you look good like this", 5k

Lost Time by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, yearning, 2.9k

If he closes his eyes by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, yearning, 442

July 26 — Z — zipper, zeal

Things Like That by drabbles-mc — Danilo Garza x f!Reader, zipper, 2k

Zealot by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader and Nathan "Cable" Summers from Deadpool x f!Reader, zeal, 4k

(note: we hit the link limit on this post so from now on, links will be to fics + to authors on their first appearance.)

#narcos mexico #narcos #narcos imagine #narcos fanfiction #nffalphabet

[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱

Pairings:  Amado Carrillo Fuentes x f!reader(Latina Reader) x Walt Breslin  [From Narcos: Mexico TV Series]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Synopsis: You have to take on the role of a musician to infiltrate a restaurant filled with high-level international drug dealers.There, you meet Amado as expected, However, it seems that everything is not going according to the plan anymore.

AN : Just in case you're wondering, in this story, Pacho is the same person as in El Paraiso de las Pandillas. I imagine him as bisexual. (Please don't attack me; it's just my imagination and has no relevance to real individuals.)

I used to think that I wouldn't continue this fanfic, but because there are still people waiting to read it, I thought I would give it another try. However, if it doesn't really work out, I probably won't update it anymore. Thank you to everyone who has been following and reading it all along. I truly appreciate it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------  

𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Previous : Next

[1]ᅳ 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚 ✟

Havana, Cuba

1830(Military Time)

It has been over three hours since you sat and played the grand piano in the restaurant of the capital city. Your fingers ache from pressing down on the black and white keys as you continuously perform well-known classical pieces to entertain the sole guest here, who is seated at the large table in the middle of the restaurant.

A tall, dark-skinned man with an unruly beard and disheveled hair, always dressed in black and adorned with brand-name sunglasses hanging over his chest on the edge of his shirt

That is Amado Carrillo Fuentes, the target you've been waiting for.

You watch this man intently, alert and attentive. Since the mission began, this is the first time you have seen this man so closely. Close enough for you to shoot him dead without missing a beat.

But that's not the objective this time, and you're not playing the role of an assassin or a CIA agent. Here, you're just a "Camila," an ordinary female musician hired to provide some entertainment during an important meeting of the Latin American drug cartel.

"It's too long." Diego's voice crackles through the earpiece, sounding irritated. "Are you sure the intel is correct?"

It's not just him who feels irritated; you feel the same. "I risked my life to obtain this information. If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be here," your words barely whispered, but the tone sounds like a shout

"I think this should be enough," says the voice that comes back, belonging to Waltz, with a Texan accent that is so familiar to you. "You find a way out, and then we'll discuss what to do next."

No way, you think, but you don't say it out loud.  You deliberately ignored that command.

Suddenly, your bare back under the yellow floral-patterned dress shivers as you notice three more individuals walking into the empty restaurant. They are dressed in vibrant, tailored suits, adorned with thick gold chains and expensive watches 'drug lord uniforms.' That's what Diego told you—the first rule of identifying suspicious individuals—and it proves very useful this time.

Those people are the most powerful drug lord syndicate in Colombia, called "Gentlemen of Cali" Today, they have appeared together, all three of them. You discreetly observe the two Rodríguez brothers, Gilberto and Miguel, They both seem like ordinary old men with no apparent threat. No one knows that beneath that façade, they are the heads of 'Cali Cartel' the most powerful drug cartel in Colombia, controlling over 90% of the cocaine market worldwide, ever since Pablo Escobar fell.

However, the most frightening person is Pacho Herrera, the second-in-command of the gang. He is still young, handsome, and charismatic, with a strong sexual appeal to both men and women (mostly men, as confirmed by one of the prostitutes who is your informant that Pacho is bisexual). His appearance is strikingly different from that of other drug dealers. The reason why this man often takes on the role of negotiating and bargaining for the gang's benefits is that Pacho is always able to fulfill his duties and responsibilities. He is clever, cunning, and ruthless.

Nevertheless, Pacho's relationship with Amado seems to be going well. As far as you have learned, Pacho greatly admires this Mexican drug dealer. Although it is uncertain whether their relationship is strictly professional or romantic, there is a high possibility that this negotiation will succeed without any issues.

Although you are sitting closest to them, you are still considered distant. There is no way for you to hear their conversation, but you can read their lips to some extent.

—I want to make an offer.

—What offer?"

—A transportation exchange with Cocaine and market sharing in America

—You want to compete with my gang?

—I don't want to compete, and what I'm doing will help your gang in America.

That's all you know, albeit not much. However, it's enough to confirm that these two gangs are indeed negotiating a drug trafficking agreement.

There was a tense whispering between the Rodríguez brothers before they abruptly stood up without touching the food on the table. They didn't look upset but rather seemed deeply engrossed in their thoughts about that proposal. As for Pacho, he remained seated at the table, continuing to sip his drink, and began to casually ask Amado, "How are you, friend?" while spraying empty words for several minutes before finally getting up and patting Amado on the back, saying, "Wait for a phone call tonight."

"What happened then?" asked Diego anxiously, but you didn't respond. At that moment, nothing else on that table could divert your attention from the remaining Amado.

Suddenly, he raised his face—the only moment you and he made eye contact without intending to. He smiled at you, and you felt an instant chill when you realized it was the most dangerous smile in both America and Mexico.

And the man slowly stood up before confidently walking towards you.

You stopped playing the piano immediately. The last note resonated in the air before it fell silent. One of your hands instinctively reached to the back, a familiar gesture, only to realize later that you hadn't brought your gun with you.

This was an unexpected situation for you, and the most unsettling part was that you had no idea of his intentions or what kind of danger might arise within the next few minutes.

Perhaps this plan leaked to Amado. Maybe you would die at his hands.

No matter how nervous you were, you tried to smile calmly back at him, the calmest you could be. Your heart pounded when he stopped right in front of you, closer than ever.

"You play the piano very well," was Amado's first sentence. "May I ask your name?"

"I'm Camila."

"And I'm Amado," he said, extending his hand. You shook hands, feeling like it was a dream, but the firm and rough palm confirmed it was real.

The man fell silent, contemplating something deeply in his heart. You didn't dare move again; you remained seated, still wary what was happening.

He must have a plan. That's what you're thinking right now

And Amado also had a plan for you, just not the kind you had imagined.

"I think I'll have to stay around here for a while. It would be good to have a friend with me. If you have no business and don't mind being my friend," he said,

You raised an eyebrow, almost letting your jaw drop.

You didn't react immediately. You knew what he wanted from you.

"Well, I'm just a musician. If you need..." You left a small gap for him to figure out. "I think you can contact some women from outside."

"No, no, not like that." Amado quickly waved his hand, looking surprised and chuckling at the same time. "I just want you to join me for a drink and sit with me as long as I stay here, that's all."

You blinked in astonishment, realizing that everything happening was beyond the mission and beyond expectations. No matter what, you have obtained what you want now, and you should leave as soon as you have the chance before anything bad happens.

But deep down, you also knew that this was an opportunity—a once-in-a-lifetime chance that might never come again.

You tried to smile again and chose to do the opposite of what you should do.

"Sure, why not, if you're paying"

You accept his offer

---------------------------------------------------------------------------  

Inside the modified black van, loud conversations in Spanish resonated. Before Diego's face emerged from the van's window, he glanced at his boss, who was waiting outside with American officers, his expression not looking too good.

"We can't contact Y/N anymore, but we know she's with Amado now."

The deputy police chief, who had just finished smoking a cigarette, exhaled a puff of smoke before squinting at Diego. "What does it mean that She's with Amado? Did they catch her?"

"Nah, I think she chose to stay willingly." Diego took off his glasses, a rare occurrence unless he was feeling stressed. "That idiot lured her to drink, and she said yes!. I've invited her before, and she refused all the time. But now she chooses to go with that scumbag drug dealer without a second thought!”

Julio chuckled, He smirked before extending his hand to slap him on the back. "Because you're not as handsome as he is, little boy."

"I don't see what's so funny." Walt spoke up, leaning against the van door with a tense expression: "She's in danger, and we need to get her out of there quickly."

"Calm down, White Boy." Julio's voice remained relaxed, knowing that the American officer genuinely cared for their lone teammate. "She's C.I.A. Somehow she managed to survive, right?"

"But the C.I.A. isn't God," Walt retorted. "She could have been shot and killed just like me and you."

Diego glanced at Walt and immediately decided that this was not about himself. So he quickly turned his face and stepped back into the van. There was a faint shout from one of the Mexican soldiers on the other side, suggesting, "If you guys want to fight, do it in a secluded place." Walt responded to the advice by raising his middle finger in return.

Such situations were common in the battle against drug trafficking. Sometimes the tension of the mission led to heated arguments

If Americans were like tongues, Mexicans were like teeth. Julio knew this truth well, as did Walt himself.

The Mexican man calmly lit up another cigarette, exhaling a cloud of white smoke from his mouth and nose. "Listen, Walt, I know that the C.I.A. is not a god. Americans like you have never been my gods, and I know Y/N is going to do something by herself. No one is controlling her. That means she believes in herself, and you should have faith in her too."

With his long, pointing finger, he directed it straight at Walt, locking him in an intense gaze. Fatigued eyes still held a spark. 'We're all tired, and we don't want anyone to die’ conveyed Julio through his gaze, leaving the DEA agent at a loss for words.

Walt wanted to trust in you, as Julio told him, but that didn't help alleviate the anxiety in his heart.

Because you were the youngest agent Walt had ever worked with. You were the same age as his younger brother, and you had a bright future ahead of you. Walt didn't want you to make a mistake, and he didn't want to do anything that would restrain you in any way.

Walt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a fresh cigarette being offered to him by Julio. Walt accepted the gesture by taking it and holding it between his lips, whispering a soft thank you. As Julio lit the cigarette for him,

They both stood there, smoking side by side, exchanging understanding through the smoke and silence. Walt gazed at the darkening sky as the streetlights gradually turned on one by one, illuminating both sides of the road. He took another deep smoke before turning to the person beside him and asking, "So, what do we do next?"

Julio smiled briefly, tapped the end of his own cigarette against the side mirror of the van, and let the ashes fall to the ground.

"All we can do is wait," he said.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------  

#narcos: mexico #narcos x reader #amado carrillo fuentes #walt breslin #narcos mexico netflix #narcos fic #amado carrillo fuentes x you #amado carrillo fuentes x reader #walt breslin x you #walt breslin x reader #jose maria yazpik #scoot mcnairy #narcos mexico fanfic #narcos mexico fanfiction #narcos: mexico tv series #Renegada♱

[thatwhorethatyouadore]

A Different Man (Pacho Herrera x Reader) Pt. 1

AN: As you all know, Pacho is the flamboyant gay godfather of the Cali Cartel, and one of the most powerful men in the cocaine business. But what would happen when he was confronted by his past? Before the business, before the negotiations, before tearing people apart with motorcycles... A sort of realistic AU that in the beginning, before Pacho came out, he was married to a woman (reader), and even had a child with her... but later abandons them both after she finds out a secret of his... Ten years later, now a kingpin, Pacho Herrera hopes to come to closing terms with the reader and his past... but it won’t go as smoothly as he thinks.

—

It was awkward, going into a place filled with guards to the brim and an extravagant house that put all other billionaires to shame. She had never lived this way with him before, even after they had their son together. They used to live paycheck to paycheck, and though her parents helped her family out tremendously, she was always the one to insist that they make their own doing. He was a jeweler, and she was a simple 9th grade history teacher. One may think they’d make sufficient money, but the place that they lived in, costs were exorbitant. So they had no time for luxuries…

She never remembered any red flags of him trafficking. Perhaps he’d stay a little later in the night for work, but she always recounted waking up in the morning with him beside her in her bed. He was always up before her, either looking up at the sky or watching her sleep, and she always opened her eyes to see his brown ones looking into her own. She smiled, and they would kiss, and then she would go to their son’s room to check on him. Afterwards, she’d leave, and he would take care of their son for the first part of the day. Then, when she came back, he would leave to do his night job, and the cycle would repeat for days on end.

But on one of those days, that would change entirely.

It was their anniversary that day. She remembered that clearly. They had been together for 3 or 4 years, and their son, Alejandro (Ali for short), had just turned one. In those past months, Pacho had seemed more withdrawn and less social as he used to be, and when confronting him about this, he always brushed her off. It definitely put a strain on their marriage, but she hoped that perhaps the little surprise she’d make for him would lighten his day. She sent Ali to her parents’ house for the day, hoping to just have the time between the two of them to rekindle that fire they once had.

She didn’t remember exactly how it came to be, but she ended up in a bar… Oh, that’s right. He didn’t even show up. Even when he told her through the phone that he would be home soon to celebrate. Frustrated, she had gotten a cab and went to the nearest bar, hoping to at least ease her anger with a few drinks. Then she could go back home, fall asleep, and forget about their anniversary, as he obviously did.

But then she saw it. A scene that would never be erased from her mind, and all she saw soon after were tears clouding her eyes.

Pacho was there. And not only him, but a man. They were dancing with each other, obviously intoxicated, until the man captured Pacho’s lips with his own. Everybody, including them, were too drunk on their own to notice this happening… except her. It was only a small peck, but it was enough for her to realize that after all these days, he wasn’t working late -- but having an affair with a man.

He was horrified when she called out his name. She left him, and soon he was following her on her feet. She could recall the shouts that left her mouth, the anger in her heart. He tried to placate the situation, but it was far too late.

She went to her parents’ house that night. And the next morning, she had packed her things, told him good riddance, and left. Apparently he’d forgotten all about her, because after that, he never once tried to call her family’s home. Perhaps he was too ashamed, too mortified to even see his own son.

That was years ago; hell, though it was a nightmare then, it had become a blur of the past in her mind. She had gotten her own apartment, and from there her and her son moved into it. And with what was happening, she even applied for a position as a Spanish teacher in the United States, hoping to get away from all the violence occurring in Colombia. But all the memories flooded back when she saw the smile of her old lover, the same eyes that gazed into her soul as they would when they made love back then. He walked up to her, his arms spread as if he was hoping to hug her like an old friend, a smile on his face. She didn’t reciprocate that same warmness he was giving her, and he took note of this, nodding as his smile fell and he sunk back into the chair he got up from. She sat down quietly, and the server came to ask what she wanted to drink; she told them wine. A bottle of it. If he wanted to talk to her so desperately, she would need to drink to ignore the emotions flooding over her.

“You look good,” he said, his sunglasses hanging from the front of his shirt. “As beautiful as I always remembered you to be.”

She didn’t respond. She only looked at him, wanting him to feel some sort of shame or guiltiness. It wasn’t him even cheating on her that made her angry about the past; it was the lie that he kept from her throughout their entire relationship, and afterwards, abandoning her and their young child. She didn’t want to be his friend, and she most certainly didn’t want to be associated with one of Cali’s kingpins. “What do you want, Pacho?”

He leaned forward, his eyes still sinking her in as he smiled softly. “How are you these days?”

“I’m not here to rebuild a friendship with you. I came here because you asked me to.”

“But you still came,” he pointed out.

“I can leave if it’s not important.”

He laughed, taking a long sip of the daiquiri in his hand. He shook the glass slowly, seeming to ponder. “Can’t I catch up with my late wife?”

“I don’t want to catch up with you, Pacho. You’ve already made us suffer enough.”

She saw the hurt in his eyes, and though he said nothing, the pain seemed to have transferred to her as well. But only his eyes showed the slightest hint of emotion. He took a deep breath. “I haven’t forgotten. You both are still the most important people in my life.”

“We both know that’s bullshit,” She said coolly. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have abandoned us like we were nothing.”

“And I’m sorry for that,” he responded. His hand was on the table, and she saw that familiar golden ring around his finger. It wasn’t their marriage ring, but a ring she had given him on his birthday so long ago. It was all she could afford, and yet he was so happy to have gotten it. He noticed her looking at the ring on his finger, and he smiled, looking down at it as well. “I wear it often,” he said. “And my wedding ring. Depending on the occasion,” He added, letting a small laugh out.

“Why did you keep them?” She said, and it was more in a curious tone than it was irritated.

“Because it’s a reminder of us. And when we were in love.”

She turned away and scoffed, “You never loved me, Francisco.”

Francisco was his first name, and a strike of nostalgia seemed to hit his eyes when she said it. Nobody had called him that for a very long time, she’d wager. “But I did,” he stated, and she had to take a sip of her wine after that sentence. “Not with your body…”

Her eyes met his. She knew exactly what he meant.

“But with you.” Her hands were starting to become clammy, her heart pounding in her chest. For some reason, in her gut, she knew he was telling the truth with those words. Words from his heart. “The times we were together made me… made me feel something.”

For once, she didn’t filter what she said. Her subconscious had taken over her conscious. “You’re gay, Pacho,” she stated bluntly.

A few of the men turned to look at them, and Pacho didn’t break his gaze from her. It was a widely known fact that he was gay; he told the whole world about it. But that didn’t mean he appreciated the venom in her tone when she said it. “Yes,” He said. “Yes I am.”

“Then how is it possible-...”

“I loved you as a person, not as a partner. Does that make more sense?” He said, and she could feel the tension from him, as if she was already supposed to know. But she didn’t. His voice lowered, continuing, “Do you hate me because of it?”

“I don’t hate you because you’re gay, Pacho,” she said. “I don’t hate you at all.” There was a pause between them. Then, “I don’t want anything to do with you because you’ve changed.”

“Changed?” He said, his voice still calm. Though his eyes told her that he was taken aback by this presumption. “How?”

She shook her head, grabbing her purse. Opening it, he eyed what she was pulling out. Not that it could be anything dangerous, that is; they’ve already checked her bag before she even stepped foot into the property. Nonetheless, he seemed to have a keen interest in what she was going to grab.

He soon saw her place some money on the table, and his eyes narrowed at her. “What are you doing?”

She stood up, grabbing her bag. “I’m leaving.”

He scoffed, but she didn’t care. She turned around to the door, only to be stopped by two men that were armed with guns. She was shocked, and when this happened, Pacho stood up himself. She looked back, noticing the smug countenance on his face. “You always want to have the last word, don’t you?” He began to walk towards her, and she swallowed the hard lump in her throat. When he came too close for comfort, she tried to look away, but his hand went under her chin and turned her face to look directly at his. “It’s cute how you think you can just walk away from me again. A lot has changed in these years, my dear…” He leaned closer to her, almost lowering his voice to a whisper, “And I’m not done talking to you yet.”

She tried as hard as she could to seem courageous, not pushing him away nor getting closer. The air felt stagnant as she traced her words out carefully. “You’re not the man I used to know.”

“And you’re not the woman I used to know. But we all change, don’t we?”

“No…” She said, shaking her head slowly. “But you aren’t the man I fell in love with when we got married. You’re not the man that used to love me as a person, or however you put it… You… You’ve changed. You’re a complete monster.”

He was amusingly surprised by the words. “A monster?” He asked in a more innocent tone. “Bold words you’re using to a kingpin of the Cali, don’t you think?”

“And what are you going to do?” She said, the confidence growing within her. “Rip me apart with motorcycles the way you did with Claudio Salazar? Or put a bullet in my head?”

He seemed disgruntled with the mention of Claudio. “Don’t mention that asshole Salazar, sweetheart. He’s not as innocent as he seems.”

“You quartered him like he was some sort of meat.”

“And now he is!” He said enthusiastically, spreading his hands. “Meat for the fishes, is he not? I’m giving back to Mother Nature!”

“You sick man…” She started, and, slipping between his grasp and the bodyguard behind him, she tried to run.

However, his hand had caught her forearm before she could bolt, and effortlessly dragged and pushed her to the side of the wall. His body caged hers so she couldn’t leave. He took out the gun from his pocket and placed it under her chin, making her finally stop struggling and stood catatonically. “Are you stupid? What did I say about trying to run away from me?” He asked, his other forearm pushing against her chest and nearly brushing atop her breasts. The gun dug into her skin, and every breath she took it felt as though it sunk in deeper.

“What do you want?” She said, exasperated. She’d be damned if she said she wasn’t horrified that he’d kill her at that moment.

He tsked at her, his other hand that didn’t hold the revolver came up to cup her face. “Why are you so cold to me, hm? Are you that upset that I didn’t like the feeling of your pussy?”

She knew he was taunting her, trying to make her struggle against him -- it seemed as if he was having fun with it. But she didn’t, and she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. It took two players to play this game. “No. You’re just one of many men, Pacho… And many of them would disagree.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, and she saw the glimmer in his eyes. “Is that so?” He asked, and his face got closer to hers. “Then tell me, my love… Did they fuck you like I did? Did they make you scream their name like I did?” His voice then got lower, “Did you ever let them put a baby into you… like I did?”

She shook her head, seething with rage. “No.”

“Then you should thank me. Many women would dream of carrying my child.”

“I’m thankful that you gave me this child. Not because of your arrogance that you were the one to father him… but because he’s the best boy I could’ve asked for.”

A small, honest smile formed on his face as his hold on her lightened. She felt that she could breathe more easily now, the air less stagnant as the tension dissipated. “I want to see him.”

She scoffed at the notion. “Why now, all of a sudden? You couldn’t make that decision ten years ago?”

“Things have been hard,” he said, slowly walking back to where he sat. His hand motioned to the table, as if ordering her to sit back down. When she didn’t move, he sighed, tapping his fingers on the table. “I appreciate your consideration, but the wine will cost a thousand times more than that excuse of money you put on the table. All of which I’ll be paying. So be a kind guest and finish it.”

“I didn’t know guests are supposed to follow their host’s orders,” She responded. “Or be forced to have dinner.”

“Do you really want to test my patience?” His voice had a mixture of impatience and frustration within it. “We can sit and talk about our son, but I’m still going to see him. Whether you permit it or not.”

“Not in this place, you aren’t,” She said quietly, almost indistinguishable. She knew she didn’t have a say on the matter, but the desperation in her voice was tangible. “If you want to see your son… it won’t be here.”

He eyed her suspiciously; “Then where?”

She didn’t want to, but she knew that at the end of the day, she didn’t have a choice. She could either maneuver the situation to her favor, or she could resist, but she knew the latter wouldn’t turn out successful. As much as she didn’t want to, when Pacho Herrera wanted something, you had to give it to him.

But in what way was up to her.

#pacho herrera #pacho #pacho x reader #narcos imagine #narcos #narcos mexico #pacho herrera imagine #pacho x female reader #no y/n #narcos mexico imagine #pacho herrera fanfic #just pacho pacho pacho #ugh why am i so addicted

[cregan-starks]

Leyenda | Beholden

Summary: The DEA recruits Magnussen.

Words: 2,609

Pairing: none yet, but watch out for Special Agent Breslin

Warnings: politics, mentions of drug trafficking, mentions of death, mention of SA, mention of torture, mention of kidnapping, mention of violence, mention of guns, mentions of communism, Ronald Reagan, smoking, cussing, eventual enemies to friends to lovers, eventual relationship, eventual smut. Under no circumstances can you copy, plagiarize, steal my work, or post it somewhere else!

Notes: Hi, I’m alive. First off, I’m extremely sorry for being so late with posting this. Thank you all for your support and patience! It means a lot, and I hope that my little series will live up to your expectations. Secondly, please don’t take any chapter warnings lightly, as I don’t intend to downplay and romanticize the War on Drugs and other subjects related to it. Finally, the majority of characters featured in this story is based off of their portrayals in Netflix’s Narcos shows (if you haven’t seen Narcos: Mexico, please do yourself a favor and watch it). Agents Magnussen and Bowen are both my OCs. If you wish to be added to or removed from my taglist, my DMs and ask box are open.

Credits: Huge thank you to my beta @maharani-radha-writes 💛 and to my sweet @artthurshelby for the GIF 🧡

Ao3 | Masterlist | Next

DECEMBER 6, 1985

AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND

          “… bodies of U.S. drug agent Enrique Camarena and Mexican pilot Alfredo Zavala being loaded in the back of a pickup, guarded by heavily-armed Mexican Federal police for the 70-mile drive from Zamora to Guadalajara. The bodies were discovered early yesterday morning by a farm worker along a well-traveled road. They had not been there 12 hours earlier. The spot they were found was just 500 yards from a ranch house, where federal police killed five members of a family on Saturday after receiving an anonymous tip Camarena could be located on the ranch. Police said the family was involved in drug trafficking. Neighbors said it was a massacre.”

          Magnussen looked up from the pictures of the 881 Lope de Vega house that she was holding – valuable evidence she now apparently had access to – her gaze settling on the woman sitting across from her. Bowen had turned her head sideways, towards the cracked window, faking distraction. She scrunched up her small nose, indicating that the smell bothered her. Magnussen rolled the culprit – a cigarette – between her fingers, defiantly, with no intention of putting it out. The smoke filled her lungs, soothing her nerves slightly. Nasty habit, Maia would have complained.

          Magnussen decided to entertain herself by studying Bowen – preventing her eyes from lingering too long, lest the agent mistook it for interest. It was merely curiosity. Bowen had deposited her beige coat on the backrest of her chair, revealing bony shoulders, and had pushed her lengthy blond hair over them, straightening her spine. The wedding band that she wore glimmered in the sunlight each time her left hand moved. Although she had picked an unfortunate shade of pink for her lipstick, Magnussen couldn’t deny that Bowen had something striking about her. Must be the DEA badge attached to her belt. The one she had undoubtedly flashed in front of Magnussen’s coworkers to signal that she was an important American who meant business.

          And it had worked, of course. Here she was, in Magnussen’s office, with an air of superiority that taunted, “You should be grateful that I accepted to meet with you,” as if she had had a choice. The presence of a DEA agent had naturally caused turbulence around the place; several of Magnussen’s overly nosy colleagues couldn’t help but glance at them, foolishly assuming that no one noticed. Who the fuck thought glass walls were a good idea?

          Bowen had come bearing gifts; specifically, a dossier as thick as Brezhnev’s eyebrows titled “CLASSIFIED” – adding to the stack of reports already present on Magnussen’s desk – which sported the seal of the U.S. Department of Justice. Uh oh. Classified, U.S., justice. Too many bad words. Whatever it is, it’s illegal.

          This time, Bowen’s hawkish stare gave away her attempts to predict Magnussen’s suppressed reactions. Evidently, subtlety wasn’t among her strong suits. This is a fucking interview. For a job Magnussen neither knew about, nor applied for, let alone wanted. And why had they sent Bowen, of all people? They barely knew each other. Magnussen wasn’t going to give in – not so easily, anyway. She wanted answers, and if they wanted her, they would have to do better than this.

          Magnussen set aside the disturbing photos, attention shifting to the file titled “OPERATION LEYENDA.” She pulled out a list of names, some of which were crossed out.

           MIGUEL ÁNGEL FÉLIX GALLARDO

           JUAN JOSÉ ESPARRAGOZA MORENO

           SERGIO ESPINO VERDIN

           HUMBERTO ÁLVAREZ MACHAÍN

           RUBÉN ZUNO ARCE

           JUAN RAMÓN MATTA-BALLESTEROS

           RENÉ VERDUGO URQUÍDEZ

           RAÚL LÓPEZ ÁLVAREZ

           JESÚS FÉLIX GUTIÉRREZ

           JUAN JOSÉ BERNABÉ RAMIREZ

           JAVIER VÁSQUEZ VELASCO

          Upon closer inspection, she recognized most of them as drug traffickers or DFS agents. Or both. One question remained: what did all of this have to do with her? Magnussen took a drag from her cigarette, then tapped it against the rim of the ashtray on the desk, to drop the ashes. Alright, I’ll bite.

          ‘What’s Operation Leyenda?’, she queried, impartially.

          Bowen cleared her throat, relieved that the silent treatment had finally ended, and rested her elbows on the wooden surface.

          ‘It’s a task force we set up a few months ago. They’re gathering evidence to bring indictments against those responsible for what happened to Kiki,’ recited Bowen like a diligent student, as if she had practiced the speech in front of her mirror, at home.

          Magnussen’s brows furrowed while she leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other.

          ‘Mexico City said the Camarena case is closed,’ she recalled, running her free hand over her thigh, to smooth the fabric of her navy-blue suit pants, ‘I haven’t heard anything about Operation Leyenda on the news. The American embassy hasn’t said anything, either… Now that I think about it, neither has the DOJ.’

          ‘My, you’re observant,’ commented Bowen, dryly.

          ‘The classified part kinda gave it away,’ surmised Magnussen before smoking some more, ‘The operation’s illegal, and these agents are vigilantes.’

          ‘Administrator Lawn sees it as a taking off the gloves type of thing. The Mexican government isn’t big on transparency and justice, so, we’re giving them a… little push.’

          The faint smile that formed on Magnussen’s face didn’t reach her eyes. Bowen’s excuse reminded her of Porfirio Díaz’s lament, “Poor Mexico. So far from God, and so close to the United States.”

          ‘Anyway,’ continued the agent, ‘One of the agents recently got transferred to the States, and there’s a vacant spot on the team.’

          ‘Uh huh,’ deadpanned Magnussen, watching Bowen, suspiciously.

          She’s trying to recruit me for an illegal operation and preaching about transparency in the same breath.

          ‘Obviously, your name came up. Multiple times. Many of my superiors are quite eager to work with you. Edward Heath and James Kuykendall even put in a good word for you.’

          Oh, look at the Americans – doing charity work for free.

          ‘What’s with the crossed-out names?’, asked Magnussen, cutting to the chase, referring to the list of criminals.

          ‘They were arrested,’ replied Bowen, after hesitating for a split second.

          Or killed, Magnussen read between the lines, feeling beads of sweat gather at the nape of her neck. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, rubbing her left earring, the sharp edge of the crescent moon digging into her thumb.

          ‘Why does the DEA want me?’, she inquired, at last.

          Magnussen didn’t know how to best break it to the anti-drug Jehovah’s Witnesses that she didn’t think that narcotics were an actual problem.

          Bowen glared at her, reluctant to engage.

          ‘Indulge me, Audrey,’ teased Magnussen, offering the sweetest false smile she could manage.

          ‘Well, you knew Kiki personally–’

          ‘That’s funny,’ interrupted Magnussen, stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray, ‘Jaime Kuykendall was taken off the case for being too emotionally attached. Got transferred to El Paso.’

          ‘You talked with him?’, questioned Bowen, expression fatigued.

          ‘We keep in touch,’ disclosed Magnussen, flatly, drumming her black, manicured nails against the desk, ‘So, why does the DEA want me?’

          The agent let out a long sigh, shaking her head in disbelief.

          ‘You graduated two universities, you speak six languages, you have some experience in Mexico and with the DEA,’ listed Bowen, ‘You’re a smart, resourceful, and ambitious kid. That enough or do you need more?’

          I doubt that you have more. And I was in Mexico completing my master’s degree, not shooting guns and illegally kidnapping government officials, but whatever. Small difference. Magnussen hummed thoughtfully, visibly unimpressed, then countered:

          ‘I’m also a foreign woman raised in a communist regime. I turn twenty-four in a couple of weeks. You’re telling me that your superiors are willing to overlook that?’, she emphasized, doubtful, ‘As flattering as this proposal is, I don’t think that my safety was taken into consideration. What if someone finds out about what we’re doing? There’ll be consequences, and you can’t even guarantee diplomatic immunity.’

          ‘It won’t come to that,’ assured Bowen, almost kindly, maintaining her calm, ‘And you won’t be on your own. Your partners will have your back.’

          Magnussen scoffed dismissively, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s patronizing me.

          ‘I guess hiring me is somewhat convenient,’ she admitted, bitterly, ‘My age, gender, nationality, and lack of experience are all reasons to pay me less. D.C. is more preoccupied with communists, anyway. Reagan probably mentions them in his sleep.’

          ‘Let me get this straight,’ snapped Bowen, tone acid, ‘You don’t think there’s anything wrong with what happened to Kiki? You don’t think he deserves justice?’

          ‘I think he deserves better than cheap propaganda and political agendas,’ corrected Magnussen, coldly, ‘You’ve all turned him into a martyr.’

          ‘The cartel turned him into a martyr,’ argued Bowen, tapping her index finger against the table, ‘And cheap propaganda? It’s easy for you to sit there and judge what you don’t know, but you clearly want honesty, so, here.’

          The agent retrieved a file from the dossier and handed it to Magnussen, who accepted it cautiously. While she skimmed over a Forensics report, Bowen explained, occasionally pausing whenever her voice wavered:

          ‘The press wasn’t given every detail of the investigation… Camarena was tortured by Sergio Verdin. Ex DFS. He beat him, electrocuted him, burned him, used a power drill on him. They fractured his ribs and jaw in multiple places, cracked his skull, sodomized him with a tire iron… Doctor Machaín kept Kiki awake during the whole thing. Injected adrenaline into his heart. After 36 hours, Camarena fell into a coma. That’s when they killed him… A month later, the bodies were found near a ranch in Zamora. Owned by a former PRI member. Ugly divorce. Zavala didn’t have any signs of torture. He allegedly died from asphyxiation... The MFJP destroyed a lot of the evidence.’

          Magnussen refused to tear her gaze away from the crumpled-up pieces of paper by the trash can in the corner of the office. She listened to the distant sound of traffic slipping through the window. The information hadn’t come as a surprise. Magnussen wasn’t naïve. Death was familiar; a looming presence everywhere she went. She knew that entering the room where Camarena had been tortured required leaving her soul at the door. Magnussen had heard what had happened to Kiki, even spoken to Mika about it. Yet tears stung her eyes all the same, threatening to fall. She bit the inside of her lower lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to regain control of her breathing. She wasn’t allowed to cry in front of these people. Her tears were hers and hers alone.

          Once she fought the lump in her throat, Magnussen swallowed, finally gathering the courage to look at the DEA agent.

          ‘Mexico City must’ve been in on it,’ she theorized, absent-mindedly tugging at the sleeve of her white shirt, ‘They’re trying to cover up the tracks that lead to them. They gave you the perfect scapegoats – Quintero and Fonseca – but that’s as far as they’ll go.’

          Bowen nodded in agreement, combing her hair with her fingers.

          ‘The former commander of the DFS disappeared after he resigned, a few years ago. It’s a miracle our guys bagged Zuno… He owns the house at Lope de Vega,’ she clarified, regarding Magnussen’s puzzled expression, ‘President Echeverría’s brother-in-law. He’s awaiting trial in the States.’

          ‘No shit,’ said Magnussen, half impressed.

          ‘We suspect Félix Gallardo went underground,’ confessed the agent, frustrated, nails scratching the back of her hand, ‘Calderoni was sent to arrest him. You know him?’

          Magnussen huffed, irked by Audrey’s cockiness. Is she gonna ask if Luke Skywalker’s a Jedi, too?

          ‘Everyone and their mother do,’ she sassed, arching an eyebrow, ‘The Eliot Ness of the MFJP.’

          ‘Well, the Thin Man got away under… suspicious circumstances. The most incorruptible cop in Mexico returned empty-handed.’

          ‘The one that got away,’ quipped Magnussen, instinctively glancing at the clock on the wall, ‘Gallardo’s at the top of the pyramid. He built the system. If the PRI hasn’t given him up, he’s probably still in the party’s good graces… or has leverage over them. Either way, they’re protecting themselves by protecting him.’

          ‘So,’ shrugged Bowen, expectant, ‘How do we catch him?’

          ‘I don’t know,’ answered Magnussen, genuinely, ‘He was always two steps ahead of your agents in Guadalajara… What I do know is that the cartel has been blessed by the powers that be from the beginning. They wouldn’t act alone. The burning of the marijuana field in Chihuahua angered the cartel, and rightfully so – they lost a lot of money – but it also spooked the Mexican government. They thought Kiki knew something that represented a threat to them.’

          ‘That’s why you would be an asset to Leyenda,’ encouraged Bowen, hopeful, nearly pleading.

          Magnussen rolled her eyes, internally sighing in exasperation. Jesus fucking Christ. Something about their desperation seeded doubt within her. She refused to believe that they had run out of candidates for the job. Magnussen, on the other hand, had run out of patience.

          ‘Why?’, she demanded, blood boiling, ‘So you can parade me around as your rehabilitated communist girl? No, thanks. You’ve done this dozens of times. Immigrants, alcohol, the mafia, the Japanese, black people, communists, and now drugs. You’ll eventually grow bored of drugs and find a new enemy to wage war against – or you’ll create one. Where does it fucking end, Audrey? I’m not gonna kill people for Uncle Sam and your fragile patriotism.’

          ‘Then don’t do it for Uncle Sam,’ reasoned Bowen, composed, ‘Don’t do it for Reagan or the DEA. Do it for Kiki.’

          Magnussen hesitated, clenching her teeth, forcefully enough to shatter. The memory of Kiki’s tragedy was raw, further tearing into an open wound that hadn’t had the chance to heal. Kiki had been a good person, but he had died a cruel, unfair death. Some of his killers still walked free. Kiki had filled voids for her, had done what others failed to do. He had been a parental figure to her. Didn’t she owe it to him? Wasn’t bringing these criminals to justice the least that she could do? For widowing Mika and leaving three innocent boys fatherless?

          Returning to Mexico implied a tremendous risk and it didn’t even guarantee a success – or survival. They were up against the system and, although it had been backed into a corner, the danger hadn’t gone away. Clawed and fanged, the system was capable of regeneration, despite the blows it had received. It was an intricate game of chess, and the stakes were immense. Every move counted.

          If the DEA don’t take my life, they’ll take my soul. No matter what she did, it seemed that Magnussen would inevitably lose her soul. What difference did it make if it were to the cartel or to the DEA? The only thing she could do was grab fear by the hand and step forward. Do something. If I don’t, no one will.

          ‘Alright,’ conceded Magnussen, somber, ‘I’ll join the task force.’

          Bowen offered her a large grin, flashing her pearly whites.

          ‘I’m really glad,’ she gushed, reaching for Magnussen’s hands, and squeezing them briefly. Upon releasing them, she presented Magnussen with a file, watching her, almost giddily, jesting, ‘I think it’s time for you to meet your partners.’

          There were nine members in total, all of them men – three Americans, the rest Mexicans. Their résumés had a small, black-and-white photograph attached. After flicking through the pages with their work and experience, Magnussen surveyed their appearance. I’ll be the youngest one, she realized.

          ‘He’s cute,’ she declared, pointing at the man with a well-groomed mustache and dark, medium-length curls.

          ‘Special Agent Breslin,’ noted Bowen, smirking in amusement, ‘He’s in charge of the operation.’

          ‘Of course, he is,’ snickered Magnussen, mirroring her smirk.

          ‘So,’ began Audrey, grabbing a pen, ‘Let’s discuss the details of your transfer.’

TAGLIST: @a-dash-of-random-magic @agirllovespancakes @artthurshelby @buttercup--bee @captn-andor @cleastrnge @frodo-sam @itssmashedavo @maevesdarling @maevemills @maharani-radha @miawallace @mitchi-c @moonlight-prose @nicolettegreen @operator-sero @pascalisthepunkest @queenofthefaceless @revolution-starter @tisbeautifulfreedom

END THE WAR ON DRUGS: Equity Organization & Drug Policy Alliance

READ MORE: Camarena case, PRI, DFS, MFJP

#narcos fanfic #narcos mexico #narcos mexico fanfic #walt breslin #walt breslin x oc #walt breslin/oc #walt breslin x reader #walt breslin/reader #javier peña #javier peña x oc #javier peña/oc #javier peña x reader #javier peña/reader #miguel ángel félix gallardo #amado carrillo fuentes #steve murphy #pacho herrera #jaime kuykendall #ed heath #guillermo calderoni #pablo acosta #daryl petsky #mimi webb miller #sal orozco #amat palacios #ossie mejía #danilo garza #scoot mcnairy #pedro pascal #tori’s beholden

[nerryend]

Pacho×Javier

#narcos #pacho herrera #javier pena #pacho×javier #narcos fanfic #pedro pascal lockscreen #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #javier×pacho #netflix

[queenielacy]

Imagine: Elias is Gilberto’s son.

He’s the youngest of Gilberto’s children, born to his first wife...or was it his second wife? It really didn’t matter, Gilberto didn’t differentiate based on their maternal lineage. He differentiated them based on their intellect, their wit, their resourcefulness and that made Elias his favorite child. He had a brilliant mind, graduated top of his class at the young age of 15. He went to the best University in Colombia and at twenty years old, he was in his second year of law school.

That surprised everyone. They were sure Gilberto would use the boy’s brains to build his empire, to expand and make even more money, but Gilberto was determined to keep Elias away from his life of crime. Gilberto decided that his favorite child would go down the straight and narrow path. He would become a lawyer, and help others stay out of trouble. If he was great at his craft, maybe he could become the district attorney. After that, the sky was the limit. He could go on to be a judge or go down the political path and become a congressman. Gilbert knew his baby could do anything, but he had to keep him out of trouble. That meant keeping him away from the thugs that looked at him with lustful eyes.

Elias came out as gay when he was 16 and Gilberto was fine with it. He never had an issue with homosexuals. Gilberto was never deeply religious and honestly didn’t care who other people fucked...but he did care who Elias fucked. Due to his position of power, Elias could live openly and didn’t have to worry about being attacked or hurt. That meant the other men that were gay or bisexual tried to seduce his son. He’d be damn if he would allow anyone his business to seduce his son. His son would commit to a nice young man, maybe a fellow lawyer or doctor. He wouldn’t be with a drug dealer, he wouldn’t be corrupted but Elias had other plans.

Elias looked at himself in the full-length mirror. He was dressed tight white jeans that hugged his behind and a tight white shirt. His hair was perfectly coiffed and his shoes shined. Once he was satisfied with his reflection, he went over to his dresser. He picked up his cologne bottle and sprayed some on. He grabbed the thin gold chain and placed it around his neck before grabbing his gold watch and bracelet. He placed them on before going over to the door and opening it. He could hear the band playing music in the backyard and conversations taking place. He smiled as he started down the staircase to join the rest of the party.

“Ah, there is my son!” Gilberto exclaimed as Elias came into the crowded foyer. Elias smiled as he dad grabbed him. He introduced him to some of his friend and Elias smiled and expressed pleasantries. Elias looked around the room and frowned.

“Where is Mr. Herrera?” Elias asked as he turned back to his father.

“He’ll be here soon. You know how Pacho is, he likes to make an entrance.” Gilberto said before going back to his conversation with his friend. Elias nodded. He really hoped Pacho would come tonight. Elias found the older man extremely attractive and had been cozying up to him and his lover, Manuel, for a while now. He wanted them and he was determined to have them.

The rumble of motorcycles brought Elias out of his thoughts. It was unusual because he didn’t think any of his father’s friends rode motorcycles. He looked toward the front door and waited for the riders to walk in. It didn’t take long for the door to open and people to file in. He smiled as he saw Mr. Herrera, Pacho, and Manuel walk in flanked by Pacho’s other sicarios. Elias smiled as he slipped away from his father and moved toward them. The Godfather was so suave as he walked in to the party, dressed to the nines in his leather jacket and perfect silk shirt. There wasn’t a hair out of place and Elias didn’t expect anything less from the man.

“Mr. Herrera, I’m happy you made it.” Elias greeted him as he sauntered up to the Cali Godfather. “Manuel, it’s nice to see you as well.” He added.

Pacho smirked as he looked the young man up and down. Pacho couldn’t deny it, Elias was extremely sexy. He would love to have the boy on his arm and in his bed. He had many fantasies about him and Manuel and how good they would look together, but he knew better than to approach Elias in that way. Gilberto made it very clear that his young son was off limits to him and the others within the Cartel. He respected Gilberto too much to go against his wishes. The older man was the only one to give him a chance, not even Gilberto’s brother originally wanted him to hold a high position within the Cartel. Gilberto stuck out his neck for him and he wouldn’t let the man down. He’d control his hormones no matter how hard it may be.   

“Pacho!” Gilberto exclaimed as he walked over to them. “I am glad you are here, please have fun. No business tonight, okay? This is party. I don’t want to see you huddled up with Chepe or my brother talking business.” He said with a chuckle. “I expect to see you drunk.” He joked.

Pacho smiled. “It will be a fun night.” He said as he turned away from Elias and looked at Gilberto.

“Elias.” Gilberto started. “Take them outside, get them something to eat.” He said before he was pulled away by his fourth wife, or was it his third wife?

Elias nodded before taking Pacho and Manuel’s hands. “Come on.” He said and then led the men outside to the backyard. It was decorated with fairy lights and candles. Flowers were placed in the middle of the tables and waiters moved around bring food and drinks to the party goers. Elias led them to an empty table and had them sit down before calling for items to be brought over. Elias slipped onto the seat between the two and smirked.

“It’s been a while.” Elias stated and Pacho nodded.

“It has.” Pacho added. He purposely stayed away from the young man. He didn’t trust himself to stay around him for too long.

“I would say you two have been avoiding me.” He smirked.

“Never.” Manuel spoke up. “We have just been really busy. We love to see your beautiful face.” He spoke and Elias chuckled as he moved to press against Manuel. Pacho watched as the two flirted with one another. Manuel was a bit looser than him, but Manuel knew the rules. It wouldn’t go beyond flirting. The two looked beautiful together. Elias blushed as Manuel whispered something to him before pressing his hand against Manuel’s thigh. The trio didn’t even notice that the workers brought over food and alcohol.

Pacho tore his eyes away from two before his emotions got the better of him. He grabbed a piece of fruit and bit into it. He noticed the music change and Elias gasped.

“I love this song.” He said and then stood up. “Come on, let’s dance.” He said and grabbed Manuel’s hand. Manuel looked over at Pacho and Pacho nodded. He was sure Gilberto wouldn’t care about a dance. Besides, he didn’t see the older man around. Manuel got up and followed Elias to the dance floor and the two started to dance. Manuel kept a bit of distance between the two, but the dance was still a sensual one. Pacho could feel the desire stirring inside of him as the two moved. He knew he should fight off this desire, but he told himself he would allow himself this one indulgence.

He saw Elias whisper something to Manuel and the notice the two starting to slip away. He raised his eyebrow at this. What did Elias say? Manuel knew better than this, but he couldn’t blame the man for getting caught up in his spell. “Fuck…” He cursed under his breath. He had to go save Manuel from making a mistake. At least, that’s what he was telling himself.

Pacho got up and pushed his way through the crowd of dancers and partygoers. He looked around and saw a Manuel’s backside before disappearing around the corner. He slowly followed the couple, making sure to not draw any attention to himself. He rounded the corner to the other section of the grand estate. He was blocked off from the other partygoers. He stepped over the barrier and continued walking. He rounded another corner and found Manuel and Elias sitting inside and beautiful white gazebo. Elias was sitting on Manuel’s lap, laughing about something. Pacho slowly approached the couple, trying to step softly, but Elias still heard him.

Elias smiled as he looked over at Pacho. “I told you he would follow.” Manuel said as he watched Pacho approach them.

“Manuel…” Pacho trailed off, giving Manuel a pointed look.

“Come sit.” Elias said and patted the place next to Manuel. Pacho went against his better judgement and sat down next to Manuel. Elias smiled as he slung an arm around Manuel. “I’ve been waiting to get this close to both of you. I’m glad I have you now.” He said before turning to Manuel. He leaned in and gave Manuel a kiss on the lips. Manuel gave in and kissed the younger man back. Pacho watched the two kiss and immediately felt his pants growing tighter. This sight was better than he ever imagined. The two slowly kissed, Manuel’s tongue pushing inside of Elias’ mouth. Elias let out a little moan before pulling back. He smirked before looking at Pacho. He reached up and grabbed Pacho by his silk shirt. He pulled Pacho close and Pacho allowed the younger man to guide him forward. Elias pressed his lips to Pacho and Pacho also gave in, kissing Elias softly at first and allowing Elias to control the kiss. Pacho let out a low growl before placing his hands on both sides of Elias’ face, deepening the kiss. He forced his tongue inside of Elias’ mouth as he roughly kissed him. Elias let out a whimper as his hands slid down Pacho’s tone torso. Pacho could hear Manuel swear beside him as he watched. The kiss was better than any of his dreams and fantasies. The younger man’s lips were perfect. He could get used to this, waking up to his kisses in the morning and kissing Elias goodnight...but he couldn’t have this.

Pacho pulled away slowly, causing Elias to whimper. The younger man chased Pacho’s lips but Pacho stopped him. “No, I...We can’t do this.” Pacho whispered before pulling away.

“Pacho, why?” Elias questioned. “...Is it me?” He asked, questioning if the man found him desirable.

“No, God no.” Pacho answered. The tent in his pants showed how much he desired Elias. “I made a promise to your father and I respect him too much to go back on that.” Pacho said before standing up. “Come on, Manuel.”

Elias frowned as Manuel gently coaxed him off his lap and placed him on the bench. He watched the two men walk out of the gazebo and disappear around the corner. He huffed before getting up. He walked through the yard and back into the house. He went over to the front door and noticed the motorcycles were gone.

Elias turned around and went back into the house, walking around the estate until he found his father. “I need to talk to you.” Elias rudely interrupted the conversation Gilberto was having. Gilberto excused himself before following Elias into an empty room. He closed the door behind him. “What do you need since you rudely interrupted me?” Gilberto asked his son.

“You told Pacho to stay away from me?” Elias questioned and Gilberto sighed.

“I told them all to stay away from you.” Gilberto answered and Elias scoffed.

“Why would yo-.”

“Why would I?” Gilberto started, cutting Elias off. “You can’t be serious. These are not good people. I will not allow them to corrupt you.”

“Corrupt me?” Elias questioned.

“Yes, they will corrupt you!” Gilberto yelled.

“I’m already corrupted by being your son!” Elias yelled and Gilberto’s face soften. “I may not be in the business but everyone knows I’m your son and everyone knows what you really do, so I’m guilty by association. I’ll get a law degree and I’ll be on the straight and narrow, but I’ll never be clean!” Elias yelled.

Gilberto sighed before moving closer to Elias. He patted his son’s cheek. “You’ll thank me for this one day, you’ll see.” Gilberto said, doubling down on his decision. “Those relationships always end in heartbreak.”

“Maybe so.” Elias answered. “But you raised a strong boy, I can handle the pain.” He said before pushing past his father and leaving the room. Gilberto sighed. He was sure his son would understand later. He just needed time to think. He would come to the right conclusion, at least he hoped.

I am probably going to write a part 2 to this. I liked this ‘verse more than I thought I would. I could go in a couple different directions...maybe I will write multiple parts that go down different paths. Thank you for reading!

#narcos #narcos imagine #pacho herrera #elias #manuel #gilberto rodriguez #imagine #imagines #pacho imagine #pacho herrera imagine #writing #fanfic #fanfiction

[purplesong1028]

Of Men and Games

Chapter 5: Storm

Pacho lets out a sigh. He tells himself it’s simply out of frustration and annoyance, so he can ignore the subtle tightness in his chest. “What are you asking, Fernando?”

“I want to know if I got a man killed.”

Rating: Mature

Paring: Pacho/Male OC

Words: 2,945

The room is dim and the bed is soft, scented candles burning on the nightstand, right next to the half finished champagne bottle. Pacho sighs contentedly, buries himself deeper inside the beautiful body. The sex is great, phenomenal, but it’s more than the sheer physical pleasure. There’s something incredibly addictive to have the perfect young governor pinned under him, consumed for his own pleasure. Pacho picks up the pace and smashes their lips together, swallowing Fernando’s blissful moans. This is only their second time together, but it already feels comfortable and familiar, like they’ve been lovers for a long time. He grunts and gives it a few final thrusts, pushing them over the edge. The overwhelming pleasure takes over his body in a glorious blast of cathartic sensations.

*

They lay side by side catching their breath. The candlelight shines on Fernando’s naked chest, painting it with a shade of golden glow. Pacho reaches over to put his palm there, feeling the elevated heartbeat under smooth, moist skin.

Fernando exhales with a smile, and turns to meet his gaze. “Shit, that was good.”

“Were you expecting otherwise?”

“No, not with you.”

At that exact moment, in the state of complete relaxation, without thinking, Pacho almost asks “so who disappointed you?” But he catches himself before the words could come out. It would be strange to ask about other people they sleep with.

He sits up and grabs his box of cigarettes from the nightstand. The lighter is a little further away and he doesn’t want to move, so he just lights a cigarette on the candle.

“So? What’s on your mind?”

Fernando shrugs, eyeing him up and down. “Right now? Not much.”

“Well, I suppose you didn’t come just for this.”

“Why? Would that be unreasonable?”

Pacho smiles with the cigarette between his lips. Usually he’s not a fan of speaking in circles. He’s perfectly capable of doing it for business reasons, but has never taken pleasure from it. However, this isn’t some convoluted mind game. It’s just their style of bantering, and a little harmless back and forth can be fun.

“It’s reasonable, but unlike you.”

“Fair enough.” Fernando snatches the cigarette from him to take a puff himself, and Pacho realizes this is the first time he’s seen the young governor do that.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t usually, but I know how to.” Fernando gives the cigarette back. He waves it off, thinking he’ll just get another one, but Fernando reaches over and naughtily sticks it back in his mouth.

Part of him is truly a little shocked by the audacity, but mostly he can’t suppress a big smile from the playfulness.

“Alright, enough.” He gives Fernando a light push, just enough force to get him back to the other half of the bed. “What are you doing here, besides this?”

Fernando remains silent for several seconds, a layer of seriousness finally clouding his dark brown eyes, and then he sighs, and pulls the blanket up to his waist. “I’m just thinking a lot about what’s been happening recently.”

“About Escobar? He really spooked you at that party, huh?” Pacho laughs a little, finding it amusing how easily this cunning, intelligent politician can be bothered by something no more than a regular Tuesday for himself.

“It’s not just that.” Fernando quickly denies it, and it doesn’t look like a lie to protect the ego. “I’ve been paying attention, ok? And I do my own research. They tried to keep it out of the news, but the lawyer and the judge who worked on his case years ago are both now dead, just when the election is coming to an end.”

“You’re not wrong.” He inhales deeply, and then slowly blows out the smoke. “But why are you worried? You didn’t work on his case, and you aren’t running against him.”

Fernando gives him an observing stare. “Why are you not worried?”

He scoffs, stubbing the cigarette out. “Do you think I would be here right now if I were scared of Escobar?”

“That’s not what I mean. How are you suddenly so okay with it? You were the one who asked me to look for information, and now you just…”

Pacho turns to directly face the young governor. He doesn’t feel offended but maybe something changed in his eyes, because Fernando stops talking promptly. He nods, urging him to go on.

“Now you just seem like you don’t care what happens when he becomes a senator.”

Pacho studies the younger man’s face, the slightly furrowed brows and the tight jawline, all serious yet still so handsome. Everyone is complicated, especially if they’re smart, but nevertheless, Fernando’s dichotomy never ceases to amaze him. On one hand, there’s this promising politician who schemes and lies, hiding his true ambitions behind a charming, harmless act. On the other hand, in rare moments of vulnerability, glimpses of real naivety stir under the surface, barely noticeable, but clear as day to him. Maybe that’s why Fernando’s pretense always works so well. Because it’s never fully a lie, and the most believable lies always have elements of truth in it.

“What would you do then, hmm?” He brushes a lock of hair away from Fernando’s forehead, indulging themselves in this thought game. “Tell me, if you were me, and you’re so concerned, what would you be doing right now?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been you.” Fernando doesn’t lean into the touch, still immersed in his thoughts. “But he’s a threat, a lot more so to you than to me, at least at the moment. I would imagine you guys are working on some way to eliminate it.”

“Eliminate it,” he chuckles at the choice of words, “and I thought I was the criminal.”

“No, that’s not…” Fernando laughs out too, “well, I guess that word means very different things for us.”

“Does it though?” Pacho leans closer, which is an intimate gesture in their current state, but intimacy can turn into danger in an instant. Both of them know it. “Does it mean something different for you in this case?”

Fernando meets his gaze and holds it, doesn’t shift away from him but doesn’t move closer either. For a moment, it doesn’t feel like they’re both naked in the same bed, but sitting across from each other at a negotiation table.

“I don’t know enough to speak on that. That’s why I’m asking you.” Eventually Fernando says, safe and honest, a flawless, pointless statement made by a politician.

*

They face each other in silence for a while, their faces inches away as their breathing gets hotter, more elevated. Pacho feels his eyes slowly travel down to the pair of red lips. He could kiss them again right now, a perfect way to make use of all the tension.

He slowly backs away to his own side of bed. “Not all threats can be eliminated immediately, querido, whatever ‘eliminated’ means to you.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“I know you are, but you have this idea that…” Pacho thinks about what it must have been like for someone like Fernando, to always have exactly what he needs to achieve what he wants, to be able to take action and immediately see results. “There are always clear steps to take, a detailed plan to be made and carried out, and it will just work.”

Fernando shrugs, “is that not the case?”

“It is when you’re doing the right thing.” He rolls off the bed and picks up a bathrobe from the armchair, smirking at the burning gaze on his back. “When you’re doing bad things, sometimes the best course of action is waiting for the other person to fuck up first.”

“So that’s it? Waiting for Escobar to make a mistake on his own?” Fernando also gets out of the warm bed, looking for his underwear among pieces of soothing scattered around the carpet. “I don’t know. He seems to be pretty good at covering up for himself, you know, the dead judges and all.”

“So far he is.” Pacho pours two glasses of whiskey. “We’ve been having this back and forth with him for years. The more success he has, the more reckless he becomes, the more bullshit lies he needs to make up.”

He offers a glass to Fernando, who’s now buttoning up his white shirt. “And Escobar has never been a great liar. Just think about what happens when he’s surrounded by people like you.”

“Alright, I see where this is going.” Fernando takes the drink from his hand. “You guys want to just sit tight and watch him get burned in a game he doesn’t know how to play.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he takes a small sip, “and there are many ways to make his old game more difficult for him, at the same time.”

“Do I want to know the details?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Fair enough.” Fernando lifts his eyebrows and puts down the whiskey. “I have to say, you never seemed like such a patient man to me. I’m surprised.”

“I didn’t say I enjoyed it, but it’s necessary.”

*

Fernando picks up his suit jacket from the floor and carefully places it on the back of the couch. “Actually, there is something else that I want to talk to you about.”

“I figured.” Pacho sits down on the couch. “It’d be uncharacteristic of you to just come questioning our strategy against Escobar.”

“Please, I wasn’t questioning you.” Fernando laughs it off, although they both know that was exactly what he was doing. “This is about another senator-to-be, someone from here.”

Pacho thinks about the candidates that he knows. He can come up with several names, but can’t seem to remember what they look like or where they stand politically. Gilberto had always been the one who’s closer to all that stuff.

“Diego Garcia.” Fernando takes out a folder and hands it to him, the exact same plain folder as the one he gave him weeks ago, with Carlos Vasquez’s information. “Maybe you don’t know him, but you’ve definitely heard of him. He isn’t exactly the quiet type.”

Pacho opens the folder, and yes, the picture definitely rings a bell. He’s seen this guy on tv or newspapers, maybe both, but every other candidate has been overshadowed by Escobar recently, so he hasn’t been paying much attention.

“And how exactly did he piss you off?” Pacho teases. “By being too loud?”

“God, I wish.” Fernando rolls his eyes, “he’s the type of person who hates everyone and everything, and gained his popularity by appealing to people who also hate everything! I’ve always thought he’s better off hanging out with the guerillas.”

Pacho can’t help but smile at the vivid description. “Then what’s the problem if he hates everyone equally?”

“I’m a bigger target than almost everyone else. That’s the problem. He hasn't been speaking kindly of me or anyone else since his campaign.” Fernando picks the glass of whiskey back up, gently shakes it. “I’ve tried to smooth things over but nothing works with him. Now he’s going to be a senator, and the last thing I need is to have this fucking guy trash me in front of the entire congress.”

Pacho closes the folder. “I assume this is where you are going to ask that favor from me.”

“It is.” Fernando admits, but then he seems to realize something, and hurries to add more explanation. “I don’t need you to…eliminate him. I just want your help to get more information, private information.”

“What kind of private information?”

“I don’t know, but no one’s perfect, so there has to be something I could use. They don’t call you guys Cali KGB for no reason, right?”

He puts the folder aside and leans in. There’s something extremely alluring about such constraints, a moral system that dictates where the line is, to decide which sins are acceptable and which ones are not. It’s like a cracked mirror, inviting him to break it down completely. “I can get you the info if that’s what you want, but I don’t mind offering you another solution, an easier one.”

For a second, he sees the crack become deeper in Fernando’s eyes as the pupils enlarge, maybe out of shock or fear, but maybe due to something else, something much darker.

“Information will suffice for now.”

“As you wish.” Pacho offers a comforting smile. He isn’t particularly disappointed or surprised. He knows the other man isn’t ready to go down that path yet, but what’s important is to plant the idea now, to prepare him from a very likely possibility. “It’s your favor to ask.”

“Thank you, I’ll wait for your call.” Fernando slowly exhales, and then looks at the watch. “I should get going.”

“Be careful recently, try to upgrade your security.” Pacho watches him putting his jacket back on. “Things are going to start moving a lot faster.”

“I know.” Fernando says as he walks towards the door, but then he turns back when his hand is already on the door handle. “You know what’s funny though? Eduardo Sandoval warned me about the exact same thing.”

*

Turns out he and Eduardo Sandoval are both right. Even that thought alone sounds funny in his ears. To put it simply, Lara kicked Escobar’s ass on his very first Congress meeting. Pacho watched it on the news with Gilberto and Miguel. Later that day, Fernando called him too, all excited and cheerful, offering him a lot more juicy details from the inside.

Long story short, Escobar’s political dream was over as soon as it started, but the story doesn’t end there, far from it.

On the topic of Diego Garcia, Jorge did manage to find some scandalous things, but nothing crazy, just the regular stuff with women and drugs, their drugs. Fucking whores and snorting powder don’t sound great for a new senator, but they aren’t necessarily career ending. He sent all the information to Fernando. How the young governor wants to use it is none of his business. What concerns him more is how Garcia seems to find a new political alliance in Lara, joining in on the efforts to condemn narcos, which is fucking ironic since the man literally snorts what they sell.

Pacho is not an expert on politics, but he doesn’t need to be to understand what’s going on. Men like Garcia will jump on the hottest train regardless where the train’s going: if people are angry, he would use their anger for his own benefit; if Escobar ended up taking power instead, he would have no problem opposing extradition.

A few weeks later, Lara’s car gets shot up, days before he’s arranged to leave the country. It’s sad news for a lot of people, but not for Pacho. In fact, it’s barely even news. He knew it was going to happen, and he knew Lara would not be the only victim.

He receives the phone call another week later, on a rainy night. For a minute or so, no sound comes from the other side besides the faint background noise of the storm.

“I just came back from the funeral.” Fernando says eventually. His voice sounds deep and strained, blurred out as a crack of thunder breaks out.

“My condolences.”

“Was it Escobar?”

“It would make sense,” Pacho lights a cigarette, “Garcia wasn’t subtle with his support for Lara.”

“But it’s a little strange, don’t you think? It didn’t happen in Madellín or Bogotá. He was hunting in the mountains, and he was…” There’s a pause, and then a shaky breath. “Someone shot him in the head from behind.”

Pacho lets out a sigh. He tells himself it’s simply out of frustration and annoyance, so he can ignore the subtle tightness in his chest. “What are you asking, Fernando?”

“I want to know if I got a man killed.”

“No.” He answers firmly, and it’s the truth, but part of him feels ridiculous that he’s even attempting to offer any kind of comfort. “He made the decision, and he should know the risks. This has nothing to do with you.”

There’s no response, and even the sound of breathing is barely audible. He considers just hanging up, but he decides not to. If anything, maybe Fernando will hang up first.

“I met his family, you know? He has a son, an eight year old.” Fernando speaks again, just when Pacho expects the call to disconnect. “He was holding a toy car at the funeral, the last birthday present from his dad.”

“He should be safe. There’s no reason to touch a child who has nothing to do with it.” He stubs the cigarette out and runs a hand down his face. Seriously, what does Fernando expect to get out of this conversation? “Think about the bright side. Now he’s no longer a problem for you, right?”

Fernando lets out a short laugh. It sounds like a laugh for sure, but feels like a sob. Then there’s more silence, but this time he knows the conversation isn’t over.

“Are you doing anything now?”

Pacho looks outside of the window, and then at the clock. “I don’t think this is a great time to meet.”

“No, I’m not trying to meet.” Fernando takes a heavy deep breath, like he’s making up his mind for a grand decision. “Just stay on for a while?”

Pacho feels his eyes widen at the strange request. He can’t think of any possible explanation for this, but he also doesn’t plan to ask.

After all, it takes no effort by just being there, in the midst of a storm.

Tag List: @ashlingiswriting @yourlocalspacewitxch @mandaloria314 @drabbles-mc @narcolini @cherixrosa @cositapreciosa @cositapreciosa @dashavau @alreadywritten @smoke-n-fiire @artemiseamoon @sikkui (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the tag list of this story)

#pacho herrera #pacho herrera fanfic #narcos #narcos fanfic #pacho x oc #pacho x male oc

[ashlingnarcos]

Carrillo and Pacho for your random pairing challenge, just because I can’t imagine it at all but it’ll be so hot😆

@purplesong1028: 💛sorry for the wait!

Pacho’s new to the Cali cartel and looking to take out a mid-level enemy, and with this being one of his first missions afield, he wants to prove himself to Gilberto and Miguel and Chepe. He’s young, Medellín is new territory to him, and he’s ready for adventure.

Carrillo’s commanding his own unit for the first time, and as the oldest son of a fearsome Santanderean general, he wants to prove himself, so he’s going off the books with a friend to rustle up some information. He’s young, Medellín is new territory to him, and he’s ready for adventure.

They are, of course, hunting the same man.

Carrillo doesn’t know that yet.

Gay bar, dancing. Carrillo sticks out like a sore thumb; the man can’t dance. But he’s convincing enough in the manner of a guy new to it all that he’s generally accepted as a harmless buffoon, rather than some type of threat.

The guy goes into a back room. Carrillo simply follows the man after a few seconds, looking like he knows what he’s doing for the first time in a while. He has the guy’s hands zip tied and hauls him towards the door, intending to take him to a hideout for questioning. There’s a scraping sound, and he catches a glimpse of someone following him, but isn’t able to see in time before the person darts behind a door, so he just focuses on getting out of there faster.

Right outside the back door, someone knocks the gun out of his hands and goes after him with a knife. Swift savage slashes, he’s blocking it with his forearms, and finally pins the man down and breaks his arm.

In the meantime, Carrillo’s buddy has pulled up in their getaway car and is wrestling the captive into it: let’s go, let’s go. Carrillo runs—it will only take a couple seconds—

Mistake.

From over Carrillo’s left shoulder come two whistling shots; he watches his captive’s head explode into a bloody mess, then his friend’s. Turns.

The man is smiling, his right arm hanging at a bad angle, his left hand steady on the gun. He can shoot nearly as well with his left hand as he can with his right. He can do most anything.

And Carrillo, who had not recognized him earlier, sees that smile and remembers—this man, earlier, he had danced with this man and thought nothing of him. This man had even introduced himself: Pacho. Something bursts in Carrillo’s gut—shame, probably, he thinks.

He does not know it, but when they danced, Pacho didn’t know who Carrillo was, didn’t care, and neither of them were particularly interested in each other, only in staying close to the target. He’ll never know it. In this moment, Carrillo only thinks that Pacho must have known all along and all along been grinning at him, on the inside, much as he’s grinning now, with a raw animal satisfaction.

It’s shame, isn’t it. This man’s hands on his hips. It’s.

At the time, it had been nothing, but now, knowing the man as an enemy, it’s no longer that simple.

Carrillo stands up straight, holds himself still. His arms are ribboned in blood from the knife fight; his blood drips onto the back alley dirt. Friday night in Medellín is never quiet, but for some reason he can’t hear it.

The smile melts off Pacho’s face, and he raises the gun again, quite deliberately. The bullet nicks Carrillo’s head; barely any blood. He didn’t flinch. Pacho appears to consider this.

It’s too long a distance to run. Any other man, and Carrillo would be charging full tilt at him right now, more than willing to take a few bullets scattered across his chest, his stomach, just for that brief shining moment he’d have with his hands around the throat—but he knows, now, that Pacho would have him down easily as blinking, headshot inevitable. So he stands there, and Pacho considers him, and then Pacho shoots.

Carrillo’s on the ground. Silent, still. Biting down so hard on nothing that he all but fractures his own jaw. It was a bullet through the arm—his right arm. Now they match, though not quite. A bullet’s worse than a clean break. And that’s not counting the two bodies in the car. But Carrillo himself isn’t dead, and he isn’t going to die anytime soon, either. He looks up.

Pacho is gone.

Medellín is too big a city; the night sky above is completely starless.

Carrillo looks again. Pacho is still gone.

#why have i suddenly decided this is like catwoman and batman what's wrong with me. #noooooo but you can see it tho can't you. #mine #Pacho Herrera #Horacio Carrillo #add this to the list of fics in which bad things happen to Horacio Carrillo; #and also in which he's a bad thing that happens to other people #YEET #Helena........is this what y ou wanted.....................be honest asl;dfkjas;dflajsdfj #Horacio Carrillo x Pacho Herrera #Pacho Herrrera x Horacio Carrillo #ficlet #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #request

[cregan-starks]

B E H O L D E N

Summary: Beholden follows Agent Magnussen’s journey with the DEA during the War on Drugs, spanning from Félix Gallardo’s reign in Mexico to Escobar and the Cali godfathers in Colombia, and beyond.

Ao3 | Inspo | Headcanons

MEXICO

Prologue: Leyenda

Chapter 1: Colibri

Chapter 2: Rookie

Chapter 3: Taquito

Chapter 4: TBA

AUs

Lacuna [Javier Peña x OC]

END THE WAR ON DRUGS: Equity Organization & Drug Policy Alliance

#narcos fanfic #narcos mexico fanfic #narcos nexico #walt breslin x oc #walt breslin/oc #walt breslin x reader #walt breslin/reader #ismael el mayo zambada #amado carrillo fuentes #pacho herrera #javier peña x oc #javier peña/oc #javier peña x reader #javier peña/reader #steve murphy #horacio carrillo #eduardo sandoval #tori's beholden #tori's masterlist

[rexsjaigeyes]

Phone Sex - Narcos Headcanons

NSFW, 18+

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: um, phone sex…

A/N: Pacho’s a condescending asshole but you love it. And oops I made Martínez really submissive here..

Javi:

Javi makes it a habit to call you during his lunch break. He likes checking up on you and asking what you’re up to while he’s stuck at The Embassy. You’ve learned his schedule well enough that sometimes, you mess around with him a little.

Knowing that he’s on break and that it’s less likely for someone to bother him, you learn to time it so that you’re in the middle of masturbating the moment he calls you. You know how much it flusters him when you pick up the phone sounding all breathless or moaning his name.

When you catch him off guard like that, he’s unable to resist joining you. He checks to see if the coast is clear before shoving his hand down his pants and gently palming himself to the sound of your moans.

After you do this a couple times, he gets really bold and expects you to be doing something naughty practically every time that he calls you.

Almost every call starts with a smug, “So what are you up to, princess?” Or he’ll cut right to the chase and ask what you’re wearing (and he expects you to say that you’re not wearing anything or that you’re wearing some fancy lingerie).

Soon it becomes somewhat of a ritual. You call him at work whenever you’re feeling lonely or whenever you’re desperate to hear his voice. Sometimes, Javi doesn’t have the time or privacy to touch himself, but he loves being able to listen to you and help you reach your orgasm. He loves the fact that his voice turns you on that much, and he can’t get enough of how desperate you sound when you’re getting off to his words.

If there are too many people walking around, he puts his feet up on his desk, smokes a cigarette, and acts completely nonchalant while he listens to you. When he sees the opportunity, he rasps softly, “Are you close, baby? Cum for me.”

He loves the risk of it all and the fact that if he doesn’t play his cards right, someone could realize what he’s up to. But all of it turns him on so much, and he just prays that he can go home soon to take care of the growing bulge in his pants.

Phone sex becomes such a common occurence with Javi that he actually gets worried when you don’t call him. If you miss one of your daily calls, he immediately thinks the worst has happened.

Bonus:

There have been several instances where Steve doesn’t leave during lunchtime, and Javi has to pounce on the phone when it rings, knowing you’ll be on the other end. Steve always wonders why Javi glares him down and grabs the phone so quickly. The truth is that Javi doesn’t want Steve to catch a snippet of your moans because most of the time you’re already going at it before Javi has the chance to say hello.

Steve:

When you were dating each other in Miami, Steve used to love resorting to phone sex whenever you were apart. He was actually the first one to suggest it, much to your surprise.

Whenever he would have tiring days at work, he’d relax in bed and call you. At first, his intentions were innocent; he just wanted to ask about your day and say good night to you. But one night, he missed your touch and craved your body so much that he had to do something about it. It was too late to show up at your place, so he asked if you’d be comfortable getting off with him over the phone (and of course he asked very politely, with that classic Southern charm).

Steve’s boldness always surprised you, but you weren’t going to pass down the chance to hear his low groans and get off to the thought of him touching himself.

After that, he used to jump at the chance to call you with naughtier intentions whenever he was horny. He had no problems calling you while he was at work because things weren’t too busy at the beginning of his career in Miami.

As much as Steve loves making the first move, he adores when you call him and specifically ask for him to talk dirty to you. It boosts his ego and it reminds him that you love his low drawl when he tells you all the things he wishes he could do to your body.

When the two of you moved to Colombia, phone sex became less of a common occurence because Steve just didn’t have as much time to kill at work.

The only time it ever happens is if he’s planning to stay at The Embassy after hours. During those long and exhausting nights, he pours a drink and rubs at his tired eyes before caving and calling you to see if you’re still up.

It’s harder for you to sleep when he’s not beside you anyway, so you’re always available to pick up the phone during those nights. On those occasions, Steve mostly just misses the sound of your voice. He focuses on your pleasure, mostly because he feels guilty for not getting to see you that often. So it’s all soft and intimate while he tells you exactly how he wants you to touch yourself and praises you through the phone.

If he’s really desperate and there’s no one else in the office to catch him, he touches himself too, enjoying the sounds you make. It doesn’t take him very long to finish because of how tired he is, but he always makes sure that you get to cum too before he wishes you a good night and hangs up.

Pacho:

Pacho is very playful and likes making you work for his attention, so it always makes him smirk when you call him with the intention of getting off.

The first few minutes of the call are spent begging him to actually talk dirty to you because he likes teasing you. He jokes about how needy you are or asks if you really missed him that much. His condescending tone when he teases you about that just makes you even hornier, and he is fully aware of that.

If you even try to touch yourself before he allows it, he will instantly know and you will pay for it when he sees you in person. When he’s satisfied with how you beg for him to help you feel good, then he’ll finally give you what you want.

Pacho is the master of dirty talk; he could make you cum in a matter of seconds with just his words. For this reason, phone sex with him usually leads to multiple orgasms on your part. He’s never satisfied with making you cum only once.

You don’t know this of course, but he’s also extremely talented in keeping his composure if someone else can see him while you’re talking dirty to him. It doesn’t matter what you say to him or what noises you make; he will just smirk and act completely innocent. Anyone who’s watching him wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a business call or a call from you.

Sometimes you accidentally call him at inconvenient times, but all he has to do is find a little privacy for a few minutes, say a couple of sentences, and you’re a goner.

Carrillo:

Carrillo is a busy man, and he doesn’t really like fooling around when he’s supposed to be working. His job is important to him and you know better than to mess with him while he’s working.

When he’s not working, he’d much rather spend his time with you in person, so phone sex isn’t a common occurence in your relationship. Carrillo is a man of action, so he enjoys being able to actually fuck you instead of making half-assed efforts through the phone.

That isn’t to say that he will never have phone sex with you, but it takes a little finessing on your part. You have to catch him in a good mood and at the right time, when you know he’s not too busy. If you can do that, then he’ll gladly talk dirty to you and help you out.

When this happens, he likes commanding you to do certain things over the phone. You don’t make a single movement without his permission, and you certainly don’t get to cum until he allows it.

It’s rare that he would ever call you in need of a release. Instead, he comes home from work and expects you to be ready for him after such a long or annoying day.

He’s always going to choose pounding you into your mattress over only listening to your voice over the phone, but that’s not something you’d complain about.

Martínez:

Despite his commanding presence at work, Martínez is really shy when you try to make any bold moves involving your sex life. You love the dynamic the two of you have though; you lead him through things that he’s less familiar with and he learns to enjoy riskier things.

That being said, you were the one to initiate phone sex with him. When it happened, he was extremely flustered and had no clue what to do. It was a little awkward, but you helped him through it.

You’re normally the one doing most of the dirty talking. You rile him up until he’s practically shaking, and he checks his office door to make sure it’s locked before he starts touching himself.

Even if he doesn’t do most of the talking, you still get off on the sounds he makes when he touches himself to your voice. His soft whimpers and groans are like music to your ears. You love how vocal he can get, but the sound of him trying to hold it back so that no one outside the office can hear– that’s what really gets to you.

When he’s close, that’s when he’s really talkative. He’ll ask you if you’re going to cum with him, and he’ll chant your name softly.

He always sounds so submissive and needy when you call him to have some fun, and it turns you on so much to reduce the Colonel to a begging mess.

--------------

Narcos hc tag list: @sirianisrock​ @fleurfatale89 @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook​

Lmk if you wanna be added to my narcos headcanon tag list!

#divswrites #narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #narcos headcanons #narcos smut #smut #javier pena #steve murphy #pacho herrera #horacio carrillo #hugo martinez #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena smut #steve murphy x reader #steve murphy x you #steve murphy x y/n #steve murphy smut #pacho herrera x reader #pacho herrera smut #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo smut #hugo martinez x reader #hugo martinez smut #pedro pascal #boyd holbrook #alberto ammann #maurice compte