-He prefers to take control in bed, but if you wanna be on top, he's not complaining
-When you start moving, he'll hold back from thrusting as you find a rhythm, and joining in as well, holding your hips.
-He's not super loud or quiet, but a bit of both as you work him; just breathy moans and whispered praising and swearing
-Ignacio particularly loves your thighs; so he's constantly groping them, fondling the skin, even smacking them to rile you up
-He lives for your expressions and the sounds you make
-Nacho's favorite position is doggy style;he doesn't care how big or small your ass is, he just loves seeing it jiggle against his hips as he thrusts. Another one is butterfly, or for slow sex, lotus or low doggy are in his top ones as well.
-He'll definitely pull your hair if you're into that, or use it as a way to hold you down during rough sex
-During slow sex, he's rolling his hips slowly against yours, kissing your skin and murmuring words of praise, sometimes in Spanish
-The type to kiss you on the mouth after you go down on him; assuming he really likes/loves you (although he prefers to receive oral sex. He doesn't mind giving it, but he prefers receiving more)
-If you guys are hooking up, no, that's not happening. And if you're friends with benefits/fuck buddies, maybe, but not all the time
-It doesn't take much to get him in the mood;even just whispering into his ear that you want him will do the trick
-With aftercare, Nacho will get a cloth and wipe you down, maybe get water or snacks for you two before cuddling
-If you're hooking up though, he'll literally get dressed and then leave, sorry
-As fuck buddies, he might linger around, just laying next to you afterwards and talk for a bit, before asking if you want anything
-You're the reason he tries harder to come home everyday
-If you're in the drug business, he'll be extra cautious
-Nacho would rather cut his hands off before ever telling you, or God forbid, someone finds out about you (He's worried they might use you as bait)
-If he has time to spare, he'll pick up gifts for you on the way home (ex. Cord bracelets, a necklace, or a favorite treat of yours)
-Nacho prefers drama or comedy movies opposed to action ones; he sees enough of it every day in his line of work, so those types are a way to ease his mind and body
-When he holds your hand, he'll stroke the back of your hand with his thumb
-Nacho doesn't really do much PDA, but he loves handsy, especially if you're sitting next to him at a table. You'll both tease each other relentlessly with little touches and fiddling with each other's fingers
-He's a sucker for forehead kisses; especially if you're cuddling and you're holding him. He just melts.
-And for spooning? He prefers to be the big spoon, but he'll never turn down the opportunity to be the little one
-Depending on how tall you are, you'll either be like a backpack on him or you'll fit together nicely
-Mornings with him are slow and lazy when he's off. He'll wake you up with soft kisses and burying his face into your neck, holding you
-Nacho doesn't say 'I love you' very often, but when he does it's softly spoken. He sees it as an intimate and special thing to say, as opposed to everyday(if that makes sense)
-He can cook really well, too! And he appreciates it when you cook something for him; it doesn't have to be a grand meal
-Wear his stuff and he'll go crazy; he thinks it's your not so subtle way of claiming yourself as his
-He's glad to be yours, and he's more than grateful that you're his.
You're on your back, him grinding at you sensually, rolling his hips against yours, his muscles and hard torso flexing as he admires your body and expressions. His soft voice, whispering against your neck, sending chills through your spine as he praises you in Spanish and English, how well you take him, how good you feel. His scars and hard muscle rippling against your hands as you hold him close, your chests pressing together, and when you throw your head back as he hits the right spot, he'll duck his head to kiss your chest and mouth over the skin. It's hot and heated and sexy, just the two of you being together like this.
And afterwards he'll hold you and kiss you gently, asking if you're okay, do you need anything, and when you say no, you just wanna cuddle, he's more than glad to oblige 🥺
*Female reader (mentions of breasts), major angst (spoilers for Better Call Saul Season 6!), fighting, swearing, mentions of pining, smut (unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it!), bits of Spanish (correct me if I get anything wrong)
Your relationship with Ignacio was difficult to put a name to.
He had two girlfriends, Amber and Nikki, but they were back home in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
Although you'd met them once, he didn't really talk about them much. You'd always liked him, but after finding out he was in the cartel, you'd settled for being his friend. You didn't want to get wrapped up in that life.
Unbeknownst to you, Ignacio actually liked you too, especially since you guys spent so much time together-being that you had a job as a private investigator that took you everywhere in the world.
Still, nothing could stop the pang of sadness and slight regret whenever you thought about him hanging out with them.
But when you saw him at your front door, dressed in a red long sleeved shirt and jeans, looking like he rolled around in the dirt and weeds of Mexico, a glimmer of hope bloomed.
'Nacho?' You said. 'What happened to you?'
He swallowed. His lips were slightly chapped, his skin ashy from being out in the sun and who knows what else all day. 'Can I come in? Please, it's really bad-'
'Sure, sure,' You stepped aside to let him in, shutting the door immediately. You led him to the kitchen, sitting him down on a chair and pouring a glass of water.
As soon as he took a sip, he explained what had happened. How Lalo Salamanca, one of the nephews of Hector, had asked him to drive to Mexico under the premise that Nacho was dropping him off. How it was actually a lie, and that Nacho would get to meet the other Dons of the cartel, getting a promotion in his role. The phone call he received on the burner phone; and the assassination on Lalo last night. And how he'd been running north for about six hours now, trying to get to the border, to at least go back into the US and escape.
You didn't know what to say.
It was inevitable that one day he'd get killed in the cartel.
But not like this.
'I'm sorry. Has anyone seen you? Did you contact anyone?' You asked as he took a sip.
'No, but I did call some people back home. They're trying to get me out, but it's difficult. The phones could be tapped, and this entire area is Salamanca territory.' Ignacio sighed, accepting the apple you offered him from the fruit bowl on the counter.
After eating, and drinking a Gatorade, he took a shower, changing into some old clothes you had lying around.
Sitting on the couch, you couldn't believe your thoughts.
Nacho, the guy you met through Jimmy McGill, might die tomorrow, or the next day.
This was probably the last time you'd ever see him.
And you still hadn't said anything about your feelings.
Talk about bad timing. And regret.
Wiping a stray tear, you smile brightly at him as he came back into the living room.
He smelled of soap and lemon.
'You okay? Do you want anything else?' You offered, knowing he must've been crazy dehydrated. And hungry.
'I'll be okay, thank you,' He shrugged, 'Its fine.'
But nothing about this was fine.
Not his tone of voice, obviously fake to mask the dread he was feeling, and the anxious look in his eyes. You noticed he was tapping his fingertips together.
Stubborn as always, Nacho Varga.
His weight made the leather sink in, slightly pulling you close to him as he sat down next to you. 'I've been calling Mike nonstop, I must've called four times now. He hasn't picked up.'
You never met Mike, but you knew Nacho worked with him. He hadn't told you what Mike did, but you suspected it was kinda sketchy stuff too.
Laying your head on his shoulder, you tucked your feet to the side. He didn't say anything, opting to rest the side of his head against yours.
'Well, hopefully he has an idea about this-'
A tear slipped out and you grit your teeth, angrily wiping it away. He noticed.
'Hey, hey, don't worry about me. That's not your job.'
All the regret, all the fear, the stress of the past hour came out in streams on your cheeks.
'Nacho,' You started, 'I just- I don't want you to die.'
He looked away, and you could tell he was trying not to cry.
'I could get you a fake ID and we could run away together! If I ever convince my dad-' He choked up, and soon the two of you were sobbing.
'He won't bend, Nacho. You know that.' You told him, remembering his venting about how he wanted his father to escape with him if it ever got to this point. But his father always insisted he turn himself in to the police.
Nacho wiped his eyes. He looked at you, shaking his head. 'Don't cry, please. Come here.'
His arms circled around you as he pressed his head to your temple. 'I'll be alright.'
You turned your head, pulling away enough to look him in the eyes. 'That's not fair to anyone who cares about you, Nacho. You still have a choice.'
His hands felt warm on your shoulders. 'And how long until reinforcements get here? I don't want to get killed by the cartel.' He reasoned.
You knew he was trying to make you see reason. 'You can't-you have to live, Nacho. Haven't you always wanted out?'
'Don't talk to me as if I haven't thought about that.' He stood up, his voice hard. 'Don't you dare say that.'
He stalked off into the hallway, and you stood up, walking after him. 'Don't walk away from me, Nacho. You still have a choice.'
He whirled. 'What do you care whether I live or die? What's it to you?'
'Because I can't let you go.....I won't.' you whispered the last part, averting your eyes.
It wasn't enough, and in fact too late, but at least you'd finally told him.
His silence made you even more embarrassed. You couldn't even look him in the eyes now.
'¡Dios mío ( Oh, my God), you're an idiot.' He muttered.
'What-'
His fingers tipped your face towards his, and his mouth was on yours, feverishly kissing you.
You kissed back, sliding your hands along his back, feeling his muscles under the shirt before your fingers clutch the collar.
Ignacio's hands smoothed along your waist and hips, bringing you close to his body. 'You're an idiot, but you're mine.' He murmured, breaking away to press sloppy kisses along your collarbones, your neck, before kissing your cheek.
'Ignacio-'
He cupped your face, both of you catching your breaths. 'Say only my real name, alright?'
As if it were a sacred promise, a vow that only you and he knew.
His name.
'Alright.'
Without another word, he took your mouth again, pressing you against the wall. His hands practically burned through the fabric of your shirt, fact that he pushed it up and over your head, leaving your bra on.
Hands planted on his chest, you walked, making him walk backwards, before turning left into your bedroom. He kicked the door shut with his heel.
Ignacio was never more than three inches away from you as your fingers pulled at his pants and pushed them down, his shirt coming off too. 'I've liked you for a while,' He sighed, cupping your face and smoothing your cheekbones with his thumbs. 'I've been meaning to tell you.'
His head tipped forward, his eyelashes brushing your skin as he bent to place a kiss on both, the warmth of his soft mouth setting a flurry of nerves to your core. You needed more.
There was a snap, and your bra met his shirt and jeans. You fell back to the bed, raised on your elbows as he tugged at your sweatpants and pushed down.
A whisper of fabric, his skilled fingers hooking into the sides of your underwear as he glanced at you for permission. His breaths quickened, matching yours.
'Yes, go on,' You nodded, the slight chill of the room raising goosebumps on your now bare skin.
'Eres muy bonita (You are beautiful),' he breathed, getting onto the bed, nude, his body bearing yours until you were on your back, staring up at him. Shutting your eyes, you were suddenly stopped from kissing him as he pulled back, kissing your breasts instead, leaving soft bites and nips.
You smoothed your hands along his back, bringing him close, closer. Ignacio peered at you, his eyes dark with desire. 'This might be the last time-' He started, but then broke off, as if fighting his internal thoughts. 'I'm sorry.'
You blinked away tears. You didn't want to think, not right now. You just wanted to feel him, all of him, even if it was the last time you'd be with him.
He might be the cartel's, but he's yours for tonight.
'I don't care about that right now, Ignacio.' You whispered, and as you both shifted, the tip of his length slid along your entrance, right where you needed him.
You were soaked.
His lips are like petals against yours. 'Are you sure?' He clarified.
You nodded, pulling him down to your mouth. There's nothing between you two except skin.
'I'm sure. Come here, it's okay.' You reassure him, and he accepts your kiss, parting his lips to let you in, consume him, devour what he has to offer, what he has left to give, and before he can lose it, he grasps your hip with one hand, bracing the other against the bed, pressing at you.
You both moan simultaneously; the stretch is intense, but you're so horny, you take him well, so well.
Holy fuck.
His face is in your shoulder, and you're holding onto him as you plead, 'Hard, please, Ignacio.'
A flurry of Spanish leaves his mouth that you can only presume are curses, before he gives you what you want, rolling his hips sensually, but still delivering on roughness too.
The desperation of wanting this to last, the regret at not saying something sooner, the fear that the inevitable would happen, that he would-
You scratch across his back, wanting to mark him, claim him, remember the feel of his smooth muscles under your fingers for as long as your mind will let you-
All of it comes out in the form of rough but sensual thrusts, loving kisses, and whimpers and moans against skin, echoing around the room you two share tonight.
His taste and heat remind you that he's here, he's yours, and fingers lock around the back of his head, holding it as he thrusts, whispering into your skin. He's not gentle either, fingers digging into your thighs as he presses himself closer-how much closer could you two possibly get?- giving you everything he has, everything he is, and will be.
He's Ignacio Varga.
And he's yours.
He's always been yours, even when neither of you knew it.
'I love you.' He sighs, searching your eyes, your face, for any resistance. 'I always have.'
Blinking away tears, you smile. 'And I you.'
The blinding white crashes as you two hold each other tightly.
And in that moment, holding him close to you, you feel safe.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The New Mexico sunset is beautiful as you sit in your backyard. Behind you, your house stands tall, glinting white paint welcoming the sun's rays and looking like a painting. The laughter of the boy chasing a butterfly swims through the air, cracking a smile on your face.
It's tranquil, with a few buzzes of bees and the flutter of butterfly wings, but otherwise very peaceful. Nice to think.
Ignacio Varga Jr. looks like his dad.
Same eyes, same nose, but your hair type and his facial shape.
One day he'll ask where his father is.
One day he'll ask what he did.
And what would you tell him? That his father worked for a high rank drug cartel, and would have become a Don if he hadn't betrayed them? That he was respected by the other members even though they all disgusted him?
Or would you tell him that his father was the sweetest, kindest man you ever knew, who worked in a car upholstery shop with Jr.'s grandfather? That he loved his father dearly and did everything in his power to protect him until his dying breath?
You remembered the shattering feeling that went through your body when Mike told you of his death. How he had died quickly, with no pain or suffering.
You remembered the pregnancy test coming back positive, and the slight fear when you first felt your son moving around in your belly. But with that fear, came a sort of peace.
It's okay that his son will never meet his father.
But he will know him, because he knows you, and you'd tell him of the stories, using lighthearted words to mask the darker parts, to paint a picture that was far more sweeter than the reality.
When he's old enough, he'll understand.
With the setting sun dipping closer to the horizon, painting the sky with pink and orange hues, you sit back in the porch chair, looking at Ignacio Varga's last gift to you.
*Gender neutral reader, mentions of smut, possessiveness
-Ignacio's more subtle about it, but that doesn't mean there aren't signs
-He'll saunter up to the person that's hitting on you, laying a hand across your back or touch your forearm, until they get the hint
'Hey, babe, let's go'
-He doesn't like to be overtly obvious, he can be, depending on what's going on
-Say the person is getting very close to you, or they're touching your knees or your thighs
-He'll speak so quietly and so calmly it's scary to think that he might be very chill-until you see the dark look in his eyes screaming, 'Don't touch what's mine!'
-That look is enough for the person to stop and immediately leave
-In bed, his usual calm and sweet demeanor switches to a rough, possessive nature-he's groping your body, kissing you furiously, and smacking and grabbing at your thighs
(I don't know, I feel like he's a thigh man.)
-However, if you're more assertive, he'll let you handle the person and smirk when you let them down easy, that you're taken, and he'll make his entrance, coming up next to you and slinging his arm around your shoulders
-If he's feeling bold in that moment, he'll even go as far as giving you a kiss
-Nacho doesn't care how the message gets across, as long as it's known that you are his, and he is yours
*Female reader, fluff, slight angst, s2ep9 spoilers, this is ridiculously short
The door creaked open, closing with a click as Nacho made his way into your house.
'Hey, babe!' He yelled, taking off his shoes and hanging his jacket on a peg near the door. 'Hi, Nacho!' You replied back. He grinned at your voice.
Nacho found you on the couch, snacking on a few chopped apples. You wore a plain shirt and sweatpants, but he thought you looked beautiful.
He'd been so tense and tired from the cleanup and confrontation with Mike about the hit on Ximenez. And Mike's insistence that he'd left nothing for the man to see, and the fact that Hector shot an innocent man who helped Ximenez.
Sometimes Nacho wondered if any of this- being in the cartel- was worth it. Sure, the money was great, but everything else was beginning to take a toll on him.
The warmth of your skin welcomed him as you brought him down for a hug that melted the coldness around his heart.
He allowed himself to hide his face into your neck, not trusting his eyes to hide the turmoil he still felt. Then he cursed himself silently.
You were one of the few people he hadn't told of the cartel, the other being his father. Why should he still think about it when he's around you?
'Thank you, love.' He murmured.
You hummed and set the plate aside, laying back and pulling him on top of you. He let you.
Resting his head in your neck, he felt your knees bend as you cradled him close. 'You're so tense, are you okay, Nacho?'
Of course.
If the set of his shoulders was any indication that he was worked up, then his poker face was top notch, right?
'Yeah, it was busy at work, is all.' He sighed, 'But I'm glad it's done for today.'
'Do you wanna do anything?' You asked. 'I don't feel like making anything, are noodles okay for tonight?'
He smiled at the thought of the huge box of cup noodles in your basement. You didn't eat them very often, mainly cooking something instead, but who could resist a good cup of noodles?
'Noodles are fine, thank you, babe.' Nacho lifted his head, staring at you. He couldn't believe how stunning you looked, and how sweet you were.
'How about we just sit here, for a few moments? I missed you.'
You giggled, cupping his cheek. The slight stubble on his jaw is rough on your palm, but you welcome the sensation. It's Nacho, after all.
'You saw me this morning, love. But that's so sweet of you.' You reply, and his heart cracks slightly. He feels so guilty for not telling you, but he wants to keep you out of the cartel as long as possible.
The less you know, the better.
He can't risk you being in the game too.
'What, I can't miss my girlfriend?' He chuckles, leaning down. Your lips are honey, soft like pillows on his. It's like time stops and it's you and him, him and you, just bathing in each other's presence.
'Just like this.' Nacho sighed, nuzzling your neck. 'That's fine, babe. For as long as we want.' You assured him, rubbing his arms.
It was moments like these that Nacho allowed himself to feel hopeful about his future with you.
He closed his eyes, letting you run your fingers on his bald head. Maybe, just maybe, he could run away with you and never look back.
