#eduardo salamanca x you

[mandowifey]

Do you have any funny head canons for Lalo? Not even funny per se but just weird shit he might do?

Nora I'm gonna smooch you.

Lalo 'Eduardo' Salamanca - Funny Headcannons

Warnings: General NSFW talk, Lalo needs his own warning tbh. Dark humor! Morbid humor! a lot of implied psychological manipulation. Cartel boy does Cartel shit. You know how it goes.

Lalo has a lot of strange and somewhat funny quirks.

First and foremost, the fact that he refuses to sleep longer than an hour or two at a time is wild. You need your sleep, which he does understand, but he also can't sit still so you often wake up in an empty bed.

He'd have your sleep schedule memorized, though. Knows about when you get tired, when you wake up, the times you stir to go to the bathroom, etc. Of course, he doesn't tell you that, but you find it uncanny that he can anticipate when you need to lay down or when to have breakfast ready in the morning.

Another weird thing Lalo does is zoning out. Sometimes, you can talk to him, and he's empty eyed, staring at the window, motionless. It's uncanny to you because you have no idea what's going on inside his head. But then he'd blink, and the light would return to him and he'd smile at you and encourage you to continue talking.

The guy has a thing about pushing peoples buttons.

He just... he craves being a menace - mostly because no one can really do anything to stop him. Lalo often smiles or grins when someone is getting worked up/flustered when he's prodding at their nerves.

Unfortunately, that means you catch the receiving end of it too.

Lalo can't help it! He loves watching you get riled up and red-faced. He thinks you shouting is adorable, and the hard, angry fucking afterwards is sublime. Lalo sports your claw marks like trophies, calls you his little wild cat.

Another thing he does that's weird is mirroring. Lalo is good at adapting and charming folks, sometimes he mirrors you to get what he wants.

Not in the mood for sex? Well, that's okay! How about we lay in bed and laugh? What's this? His hand is between your legs while he cracks jokes in your ear. Weird, guess you changed your mind.

Not a weird HC but he's intentionally withdrawn.

He keeps a lot of stuff to himself, making it difficult to discern if he's really upset or not.

Another weird thing is he likes to watch you shower.

He'd sit on the sink or lean against it, while pulling the door open to watch you quietly. Sometimes it seems like he's admiring you and others he looks almost angry.

You know he see's you as a weakness.

He's protective, always thinking 10 steps ahead.

You are his, after all.

Lalo is a gift giver. He likes to buy you stuff you mention off handedly. It's eerie sometimes because he gets you things you didn't realize you even wanted.

Like he's bringing home a dress you glanced at while shopping with him, and now there it is, in your hands. Meanwhile, he's smiling ear to ear and kissing your head, asking if you like it and watching your reaction.

Lalo is weird in the sense he's not extremely physical. The guy is similar to a cat. He'll pat your back, ruffle your hair or tap your chin, but he doesn't do many hugs or kisses. Even when you two are alone.

Though he would definitely not mind you laying against him, asleep, while he watched the fire pit and let his thoughts wander.

However, when the mood strikes him?

Lord he's on you.

Mouth on yours, devouring you, kissing and biting. Can't keep his hands off of you, groping and squeezing and just all over you.

Lalo isn't super weird, but he has those little mannerisms you find charming!

[nanabrainrot]

Pleeeeeeeease keep the NSFW Lalo going, it’s been so quiet lately 😭😭😭

DONNTTTY GETT ME STARTTRRRREDDD

but while im here.

cw for nsfw content and mean dom lalo

Lalo who loves smacks your ass every given moment.

Lalo who never lets you wear panties under your sundress.

Lalo who always grabs your hair when you can’t hear him to say it in your ear, deep and mean.

Lalo with an oral fixation with your tits.

Lalo who always has you hoisted on his lap in a little dress, so obviously palming your ass in front of people.

Lalo who will have you ride him as he takes calls.

Lalo who has you suck his dick almost all the time or at least cockwarm him because he feels unnatural without his dick warm and wet since he fucks you so often.

Lalo who sucks your tits until they’re all wet and hard and he can’t touch them without you twitching.

Lalo who figures out that certain herbs increase libido and mixes them into your morning teas so you’re all sloppy and wet by the time he gets home.

Lalo who literally sprays dick desensitizer AND viagara if he has a day off so he can fuck you longer even though he’s constantly fucking you anyway.

Lalo who likes to give you a treat of ecstasy sometimes so you can get overstimulated by every touch.

Lalo calling you “my bitch” in front of people because he compares you to a bitch in heat.

Lalo who has been fucking you like a slut for 24 years and you’re so ashamed to admit he made you into his personal nymphomaniac <3 what a beautiful marriage am I right

[monkeybebop]

Lalo Sacamocos

Had to do a matching one with the Nacho one I did, they are a set do not separate!

[rwsucculent]

I really really want to see Nacho and Lalo doing this dance 🛐 I just think it would fit them

[ficsnroses]

—𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆. 𝑳𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓—

prompt: on a warm summer evening, lalo invites you to spend the night with him in his home for the very first time. you learn of his distaste for sleep, however, you might be able to make it a little easier. 

warnings: all fluff! slight sm(u)t mention. spoiler free! 2.3k words.

notes: hihi! this is my first time writing for lalo literally if even 1 (one) person reads this I will be happy lmao. please lemme know what you think!  

an: there isn’t a lot of bcs fanfic out there, and it seems lalo x reader fics are even more scarce. if you give this a read and enjoy, please consider reblogging, sharing or interacting! I’m pretty new to the bcs fandom, it would be nice to make a couple frens:)

(also, this entire fic takes place in that one scene from s5 ep 10 where lalo is sitting outside by the fire. we’re just gonna pretend nacho isn’t there and the events that follow never happened, okay? okay.)

It begins with warm brown eyes.

Warm brown eyes, a crisp white dress shirt, and a smile you swore would someday make you ruin.

They say whoever the Devil smiles at becomes his favourite.

The first time you’d been introduced, he had looked at you with a far too wide, far too gleaming smile. That salt and pepper gray streak, titan shoulders and rippling biceps under delicate, exclusive cotton.  

Lalo Salamanca looked rather more of a sinful, dark promise than a man.

And then he’d raised your hand in front of everyone, and kissed it.

Lalo Salamanca could not seem to stop smiling at you.

You’d gazed at him for a long moment, your greatest attempts to gauge his sincere expression. There was just something about him. Soft, smooth rasp in his voice, yet a glimmer of unnerving interest in his eyes. Something warm, something that almost seemed…wicked.

But it wasn’t.

The most compelling of the Salamancas was just that. Petrifyingly efficient in his field. Lethal to others, but never to you. A seamless collection of careful contradictions you couldn’t seem to unravel. One simple smile from him and you’d swore.

The angels themselves would sin for him.

The unholy force, the mountain of a man that is Lalo Salamanca seemed to melt away when he was with you. Left behind would be a softer, warmer entity. Eduardo Salamanca. A man for whom it hadn’t taken long to fall in love with the sweet sound that is your voice.

They say the Devil looks after his own, cradles them with his hands packed of sin.

You’d drowned willingly.

Open Chihuahua city sky bleeds tonight. Dim, a sea of stars decorated in its hair.

The scent of Night-Blooming Jasmine electrifies through you, a gentle breeze kissing supple skin. Huele de Noche, is what he’d said they call it.

Mexico is beautiful this time of year— Lalo keeps home near his heart, revered deep within its seams.  

He’d begun to keep you there, too.

The embers of an open bonfire glow before you in the distance, and you see him lounged on a long chair near it. Crisp, cold Modelo cracked open, and a carve of tension lines constrained to his forehead. Quiet, subdued.

He carries that fire in his veins.

Its not long before you make yourself known.

Lalo had invited you over tonight to spend the evening with him. A shared bottle of red and home cooked meal. Candlelight had danced over his features, and you’d admired the delicate dips and slopes of his face; the laugh lines that pepper roots to the corners of his eyes.

Sooner than he’d anticipated. Frighteningly fast, even. It hadn’t taken long for you to become his favourite remedy, his preferred tonic.

You’d spent the latter half of the night within the haven that is his bed. Clung together in the evening dark, no longer sure where he ends and you begin. He’d made you his, in more ways than just one.

There had been such a light in his eyes as he learns your body and explores. Traces, kisses, and claims. You’d begun to learn a familiar truth—one that brings you simmering comfort.

You will never be scared of Lalo. Bloodcurdling to others, but never to you.

He carries that fire in his veins.

But it was you, who could turn it to soft, running water, even if just for a little bit.

You’d fallen asleep to the feel of his arm loosely hung over your waist, and the subtle heat of his breath on your skin.

You don’t know when he’d departed, lonesome in the company of none but a crackling fire, and the quiet melody of nighttime crickets bustling.

It doesn’t take long for him to notice you.

A mere look his way, and something inside you seems to crumble. Soften, hitch, crumble.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Your lips curve a gentle smile to his greeting to you, and its not long before you begin an amble his way. Lalo’s stare never wavers as he watches you attentively, the light of the fire glistening in those familiar cocoa depths. Your voice is calm, soft in the midnight dark. “You’re not coming to bed?” you voiced softly, footsteps approaching his resting place.

His hair is messier. You wonder if he’d ran his fingers through it as he sat here.

It was nice to have you in his space. To do what lovers do, to keep you among the other elements that are a gateway to his heart. Things such as this often hadn’t come easily to Lalo; part of him had still been unsure.

Unsure, but always eager to learn.

You could hear a hint of tire in his buttery voice when he answered. “Nah, I don’t get much sleep.” He mutters, gesturing you a seat to the spare chair beside his. “Did I wake you?” Lalo questions in caution, and he regards you critically as you take seat alongside him.

“No,” was your quick interruption, strained smile to accompany. “I woke up and…noticed you were gone.”

He hums slightly in response, a buzz brewing easily through the deepest pits of his throat. For a long, tense moment, he was silent, before throwing his head back slightly, a gaze to the night sky above. “Yeah, I never sleep much.” was his deep voice, slicing through you as if a wave of comfort. “An hour, maybe two.” He muses simply with a shrug, voice lax as he looks at you again. “It’s enough.”

They glow faintly, his eyes. As if two lone, remote stars shining in the sky. The intensity, the regard coupled in those brown eyes of his causes something to bloom in your chest. Something familiar, something…

Warm. Something that kisses the very marrow of you.

Your lips part, and your smile falters slightly to his simple confession. A small frown tugs your lips down. “I don’t like that, at all.”

There was a flicker of something in his expression, his lean figure resting coolly in his seat. Mexico nightlife hums around you, and a tingle races down your spine noticing the way his eyes gloss over your gentle features. Heat pulses beneath your skin, and your honeyed whisper almost seems to catch him by surprise. “I wish you’d take more care of yourself.”

Or, let me.

Lalo is silent for moment. A long, drawn moment. So much so, that your gaze drifts back on him. And, you find him already gazing at you. There is something exceedingly human about him in this moment, something fragile, kind, indulgent.

Its not long before you feel his larger, callous hand shift. It envelopes your smaller, softer one. Tenderly, he laces his fingers with yours.

Lalo’s hands were far from clean. They’d held guns and knives but now they also held you. You feel the sound of his voice wash over you like the rays of the sun, and suddenly, you long to give him your entire heart. everything within it.

Lalo leans back slightly in his chair, continuing softly when you too, curl your fingers around his. “When its like this, that’s when I can think.” was his faint murmur, eyes closing slightly as he breathes in deep, a lightness exhilarating his lungs. He exhales it from somewhere deep inside his chest and your heart seizes for a second.

There is a newfound ease in his tone, previous tension of his profile melting away. As of late, your mere presence is enough to calm the simmering strain, the heaviness burning away in him. It is new, this feeling you give him. New, comforting, soothing, dangerous. You are dangerous.

You, with your easy smiles, thoughtful yet understanding eyes.

You are slowly becoming his weakness. His heart, or, whatever little he ever did have of it, has begun to remember you far too often. Lalo’s fingers tighten slightly as they hold yours, and his voice illuminates. “I get my best ideas when everybody else is asleep.” The warmth of his skin pulses through your hand, and your head tilts after a moment of silence. “Some people, they call it a curse. I like it.”

Physical closeness is one thing.

But this?

This— listening to him, having him listen to you. It was in the way that his thumb gently coaxed the soft skin of your hand. The way his eyes meet yours every now and then and he really looks at you. As if he is looking into you, perhaps into a little part of you that only his eyes could see.

Physical closeness is one thing. But the intimacy that you’ve begun to explore, this trust you’ve begun to build with Lalo is all the more enriching.

Its an easy silence, the one that follows. The kind that soothes you to the bone, etches into the very marrow of you under the weight of his gentle gaze.

Repose looks good on him. Restful, easygoing repose.

He looks unfairly handsome tonight.

And perhaps, there is an ache in your heart when you remember such peace does not come so easily to this man you’ve begun to adore. The mere sound of his rich voice has begun to ignite a plea inside you, despite your greatest attempts to smother it.

Perhaps you’re failing to realize just how dangerous your captivation with him truly was. Or, that this captivation had morphed into affection far sooner than you’d hoped.

And his had, too.

Lalo Salamanca is dangerous. You know little of his affiliation with the cartel, his business and professional proceedings. Yet you do know.

Know of the sinister that lurks in the mere presence of his name.

But you know of the other side, too.

The side you only ever saw around family. The patient, low tone he’d always use with his tio Hector. His regard for his staff, how fiercely loyal he is to the Salamanca name. How eagerly he was prepared to protect those closest to him.

How when he touches you, he does so like he is marvelling at each touch, as if he is lucky to do so.

He is a harmony of cold and warm. Of light and dark. And you wish to thaw into him, willingly.

Its not long before you acknowledge his genuine confession. “Hm.” was your quiet, deliberate hum. Prompt and simple.

Your eyes lift to his.

And it doesn’t take long for you to rise promptly, a gentle screech below when you seam your chair closer to his. Close enough, that they’re joined. And you’ve never treasured a lack of arm rests more.

Relaxing back down on your chair, you move in closer. So close to him, that its not long before your arms are wrapping around the expanse of his bold torso, and you feel the muscles of his skin ripple below shirt fabric.

It almost catches him by surprise.

You curl effortlessly into him. And realize, your body moulds into him with ease.

And when your cheek presses against his chest, resting over the broad skin, you allow your eyes to slip shut for just a moment, as you breathe in his timbered scent.

He doesn’t respond right away. Only his slow, steady breathes do. And perhaps you’d felt it, too.

The way his heartbeat spiked when you melt into him.

He’d been reluctant at first, features hardened and you could sense the strain in his body.

But then, he did it, too.

Slowly, carefully, cautiously.

Its earnest, when a pair of strong arms curl lazily around you like irons. And suddenly, he is painfully aware of the way you ease into him. The way your hair rests upon his chest, the way your body clings to him so nonchalantly.

In his arms right now, you are free. It is not a sense of possession, but belonging.

He allows himself the foolish gratification of your embrace, the simple warmth of your skin. An indulgence.

Like a string being cut.

And it feels far nicer than he would care to admit.

“I like sleep.” was your mild tone, barely above a whisper when you admit easily. You savour the moment, soaking in this softer, warmer side of the man who has begun to claw his way into your heart. “Makes me feel…at peace. At ease. Safe.”

Something he had begun to make you feel, too.

You feel Lalo relax into your touch, and the deep lumber of his voice electrifies through you when you feel it roll up his chest. “Can’t argue with that.” Was his simple return, and the way his thumb begins to coax the soft skin of your arm as he holds you causes your heartbeat to spear.

Maybe someday it could be true.

Right now, it is new. This feeling is new, your connection is new. Yet perhaps someday, you’ll feel it in his touch.

An unwillingness to be parted from you.

You think you do feel it now, too. When his arms tighten ever so slightly, and he sighs.

There is a moment of suspended silence, and you simply hold each other. It almost catches you by surprise, when he presses a soft, slow kiss into your hair, keeping his nose buried in it for a moment as he lingers.

“Tu seras mi muerte.”

He murmurs the words carefully in the centimetres separating you, his hold on you never faltering.

You didn’t understand what they meant. But he, did.

It might as well be a prayer.

He might as well be damning you.

And with them, the crackle of the fire becomes nothing more than a pulse, and your thoughts become nothing more than a beat along with it.

You savour each other under an open Mexico sky a little longer. From hunger to honey that drips, the man in your arms is a seamless collection of careful contradictions you couldn’t seem to unravel. And it would take time, the unravelling of him.

Yet for now, this feeling is enough.

Lalo’s eyes slip shut.

     Your heart skipped a beat that night.

     Or perhaps, two.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

⚖️Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca Masterlist⚖️

Fics are in red

Drabbles are in blue

HCs are in green

Shitposts/Miscellaneous are in pink

Jefe

CNC

Lalo Somnomanca

Stalking

Petplay

Watersports

Mirror Sex

Overstim/Edging

Intoxication

Dacryphilia

Tug of War (Lalo x Reader x Gus)

Lalo x Reader x Howard

Free Use

Free Use 2

Anal/Edging/Degradation

Dirty Talk

Castigo

Anal/Somno/CNC

Trigger Happy

Be Careful What You Wish For

"Sub" Lalo

Lip Service

Bear Witness (Lalo x Reader x Nacho) 2

Soft Lalo HCs (SFW)

Practicar

A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

Coke Dick

Hole

Leave No Evidence

How does Lalo get reader into pet-space?

Warmth

Rub Your Nose In It

Saul + Lalo teaching Reader to suck dick

Drunk Reader/Lalo

Soft CNC

Perrito 2 3

Breeding Kink

Extremely Casual Sex

Road Trip

Phone Sex

Your Thing

NSFW Alphabet

Drinking Lalo's Piss

Ass to Pussy (DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME)

Scale of One to Ten

You don't want that...

Face-sitting

Fantasize

[sardonic-the-writer]

Hai! I was wondering if you take requests for Lalo? If you do I was thinking a Lalo x reader x Saul 👀 in the situation where Saul went out to the desert and Lalo met Kim for the first time surprised that Saul could pull someone like her. In this case Lalo gets to intervene with the reader? 😈

i kept this gender neutral since i didn't see myself being able to write feminine reader right now. sorry! hope you still like it :]

You weren't supposed to be here.

You weren't supposed to be imitating a lawyer on the case of Jorge De Guzman. You weren't supposed to be in this chair right now, leg nervously bouncing subconsciously.

You especially weren't supposed to be talking to Lalo Salamanca.

He hadn't said a word since the guard had brought him in. Only eyeballing you as he sat down with a gaze you couldn't read even if you wanted. Really, the only audible sound that had been made was the sound of the heavy metal door locking shut from behind the two of you.

It made you nervous. This whole situation made you nervous. You hadn't seen Jimmy for the past two days, and all you had to go on was a name.

Eduardo Salamanca.

Just hearing about him from Jimmy made you grit your teeth with nerves. You weren't into law like he was, instead opting for a much different profession, but you were pretty sure being offered to pick up seven million in cash for someone currently lying his ass off to get out of jail wasn't typical client/lawyer behavior.

"Uh. Hi."

He just kept staring at you. Expression unmoving.

"So, er, I'm not a lawyer. If you couldn't already tell." You tapped your fingers against your opposite arm in a way to comfort yourself. Something that Lalo picked up on and stored away for later. Not that you would notice his flitting gaze.

"I just want to know where you sent Jimmy. Saul. Mr. McGill. Whoever you know him as."

His eyes were one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. Jimmy's was a cool blue, often reminding you of the calm sea crashing against a sandy shore. You swore you felt like you were drowning every time you looked into them. But Lalo's were much different. Striking. A deep brown, with a few flecks of what could only be described as a honey like color in them. They were as enticing as anything you had ever seen before, while still reminding you of the situation you were in.

"I have no knowledge of what you speak of."

God, even his voice was soft with a bit of bite to it.

You swallowed uncomfortably.

"Please, excuse my french, but cut the bullshit. I know who you are. Really are. Certantly not some 'De Guzman'." Your fingers formed quotes in the air at the last part. Albeit a bit shaken. "I just want to know where you sent my Jimmy. I don't have any other boons to crave with you."

Lalo clenched his jaw. If Saul—er, Jimmy—had been in the room with them at that moment, the lawyer would have a new hole smack dab in the middle of his forhead to spit gum from. Who was he to share that information with some random person? For all Lalo knew you had been picked up randomly off the streets to come and deliver this message.

But he restrained himself. That hypothetical situation didn't seem likely the longer he sat with you. You were already visibly uncomfortable. No need to increase that. It gained him nothing. Besides, it was something else you said that had caught his rapt attention.

"Your Jimmy." Lalo leaned forward, one eyebrow higher on his face than the other with curiosity. He placed his elbows firmly on the table and rested his chin on the top of his folded hands. It wasn't a question—it was a statement. Repeating your own words back for you.

"Did I say that?" You stumbled through your words now. "I mean, I wouldn't nessicarily say he's my Jimmy. I mean, he's everyone's Jimmy. Howard's, Kim's, that guy from the coffee shop—"

Words died in your throat as you realized the man across from you was no longer listening. Instead he had leaned back a significant amount, clearly getting comfortable, in his own goddamn handcuffs, as he laughed.

"Wow! Just wow. He managed to pull you?" A bright smile had since overtaken his face, as well as a hearty chuckle every now and then. "¡Querido Dios! No pensé que tuviera la capacidad de ir tras tal belleza. Moi bein."

With a clearing of your throat you brought his baby browns snapping back to your face. Not the best feeling if you were being honest.

"I feel like I'm missing something here."

"Ah. You wouldn't get it." He waved you off still smiling. It reminded you of the way you would be excluded from a group of your so called friends back in your school days, clearly being the outsider out of all of them amongst inside jokes and playful banter. You pushed that away, not eager to imagine Lalo as a pimple faced teenager mocking you. You couldn't decide if that would make him scarier or not at this point.

"Oh-kay then." Your voice drew each syllable out unnaturally. Lalo started to drift again, seemingly losing motivation in this conversation. He was interested in whether you would scramble to keep his attention or not. How much you really cared for Saul slash Jimmy. He wasn't disappointed when you quickly picked up your speech again.

"Listen I don't really think you or I want me to be here right now. So if you could just tell me where Jimmy is I'll go and it'll be like this never happened. I swear. Besides me and you—" Your hands gestured back and forth over the metal table, pointing to each of you individually. "—can legally keep this a secret without getting in trouble. On account of, uh, law stuff."

Lalo wanted to laugh. It was amusing to him, this whole situation. Clearly you were someone of interest in his play now. Just another card in the deck he had happened to be delt. And an interesting one too if his assumption about that ring on your finger was right. Which was something you had probably forgotten to remove before coming to visit him. The idea of you being in his line of work crossed his mind before it was shattered with a chuckle. You wouldn't last a day.

"Alright. I'll tell you where he is."

You brightened.

"Right after I get my seven million."

And there it was.

"I can't do that, you sent Jimmy to get it." He watched as you grew more upset, just shrugging with an unbothered smile in response. Your expression didn't change in the slightest even as he offered a shrug of his shoulders and a chippy apology.

"Hey! We're done!" That was all Lalo responded to your distress with, standing up and stretching as much as he could. Words of urgency attacked him from behind as he wandered over to the door and rapped on it. But Lalo couldn't be bothered. You were now a card in his hand, yes, but he would have to set you aside for another time.

"Hey. Listen." He turned around as the guard who had escorted him there opened the large large door, facing you. "I'm sure he'll come back. He's got a mouth on him after all. Managed to escape my cousins wrath, and that's a talent on its own." Handcuffs clicked loudly as they were succumbed around his wrists. Lalo temporarily stopped facing you to look over at the guard, telling him to ease up in spanish.

"But. On the off chance the guy doesn't turn up, feel free to call me anytime azúcar."

A wink was just barely tossed your way before Lalo was gone. The only evidence he had even been in the room a strong smell of cologne and pepper. You thought for a minute about how he manged to smell like that while rotting in jail but quickly shook your head to rid yourself of the thought.

That certantly wasn't how you thought today would go. But based on the flush in your cheeks and dryness of your mouth, you didn't have room to complain.

[bonkwosher]

Drunk Poly!Lacho x Reader Headcanons

A/N: I did this for Benoit Blanc (link here) & everyone loved it so I thought this would be fun.

Contains: Alcohol/Drinking (Ofc)

Pairing(s): Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca x Reader x Ignacio "Nacho" Varga

Starting with light drunk:

If you're going to see one of them drunk it's definitely Lalo, Nacho will drink but not too often. Nacho is a simple beer man while Lalo is a little picky with flavors (As seen with the very berry vitamin stuff with Hector lmao). Lalo keeps a little Alcohol cabinet in the kitchen & seems like the kind of guy to "pair" alcohol with foods to make them taste better.

Lalo, when buzzed, gets all giddy. It's like he's high. Everything is funny to the man & he laughs so loud. Nacho, on the other hand, gets really talkative. Lalo will tease him for talking & say he should drink more.

"Ignacioooooo."

"Yes, Lalo?"

"Hi," Lalo chuckled.

"That's all you had to say? Usually, you're the one rambling on & on but I've said more words than you."

"Are you counting words, Ignacio?" You ask teasingly. "Oh shut up, Y/N." Lalo broke out into a fit of laughter, Nacho yelling, "THAT WASNT EVEN FUNNY," only makes tears stream down Lalo's face as he laughs harder.

Shitfaced gay cartel boys:

Lalo is the loudest, touchiest drunk ever. On top of that, he literally cannot walk, it is hilarious. He'll lean on you or Nacho if you guys aren't as drunk & if he tries to walk he will fall. If you guys are sober you try to help him but if you guys are drunk you just laugh your heads off.

The only downside about Lalo being drunk is his impulsivity is amplified by 1000%. If someone messes with you or god forbid flirts with you, that guys is going home with a broken nose or not at all.

Nacho is usually the designated driver, sitting quietly at the bar with a club soda & chuckling at your & Lalo's drunk antics. People often say being the one sober person isn't fun but Nacho finds it fun most of the time. Carrying around his tough guy boyfriend who has essentially become a baby & you bringing him out to dance like idiots on the dance floor.

Now how is Nacho when he does get shitfaced (This is a tough one for me). I think shitfaced Nacho is a wild card. Like he'd be the one to jump on the tables & start dancing, climb a tree & act like a spy, or run across the street with oncoming traffic. Maybe he avoids getting shitfaced because of how he is when he is drunk. But when you guys are home alone in your huge walled yard, Lalo may just get him absolutely drunk to see his craziness. It's an aspect that makes him love Nacho more.

"Y/N, I need help! I got Ignacio drunk & now he's on the roof!" Lalo yelled from outside. "I CAN FLY!" Nacho screamed, clearly getting ready to jump. "NO, NO PUEDES MI CORAZÓN! (NO YOU CAN'T MY HEART)"

Bonus:

If you somehow end up involved in the cartel side of their lives or the cartel finds out about you, you are definitely going to at least one of Don Eladio's parties. You'll see something in your boys that you rarely, if ever, see. Fear. They pretend to be buzzed, not drinking a lick of alcohol.

Don't worry though, with or without alcohol in his system Lalo will beat the shit out of any partygoer that so much as looks at you the wrong way. Nacho will definitely be following closely behind him at all moments to stop him from doing anything irrational.

Lalo walked off towards the house looking particularly angry. Nacho jumped in front of him, "Woah, where are you going?" Lalo sighed & lowered his voice to a whisper, "The bathroom, Ignacio, I just hate this party."

[seeds-and-sins]

Don’t Say Goodbye

Pairing: Eduardo “Lalo” Salamanca x GN!Reader

Rating: PG (Mutual Pining, relatively tame romantic energy)

Description: You’re relaxing after a long day, it’s late, and then someone comes knocking at your door.

Author’s Note: This is kind of short, but I am willing to elaborate if anyone wants. I wrote this to incite some inspiration in another work of mine, also Lalo related.

From Mexico With Love

Wait for Me

Knock. Knock. Knock.

  You flinched, but only because you hadn't been expecting any visitors this late at night. You slowly put down the bowl of popcorn you had been snacking on, eyes trained entirely on the door. The only light to rely on streaming electric blue from your television.

Knock. Knock. - Knock. Knock. Knock!

Your hand snuck under one of the fluffy pillows on your couch and you stoically procured the handgun you always kept within reach. You inhaled a deep breath, keeping the gun close to your hip as you rose to approach the door. The TV played loudly in the background, muting each creak and patter of the floorboards beneath your bare feet. Your finger toyed at the trigger and you tucked behind the door as your free hand grasped as the knob.

Uno. Dos. Tres.

You swung the door open, holding your body behind it for a decent amount of cover, the gun still pinned at your hip. You felt instant relief at the sight of a familiar face. You pulled the door open completely and rushed into him for a hug.

"Eduardo!" He chuckled, arms wrapping around you. Swiftly one of his hands dropped down the length of your arm to swipe the gun from your fingers.

  "What the hell were you doing with this? Huh?" He grinned, teasing you with it when you tried to reach for the gun. 

"You could had been anyone!" You laughed, feeling like a bullied child as he dangled the loaded weapon over you. "Lalo, stop making fun of me." He conceded, lowering the gun back into your grasp. You then gave him another hug. Eduardo made you feel secure, warm, you knew that if he was near, nothing could hurt you. "I'm so happy to see you got out, those pigs are too stupid to get one up on you."

"You gonna' shoot me with this thing?"

"Of course! Nothing can keep me, I'm a Salamanca." You tucked your arm around his back and attempted to guide him into your home. He wouldn't budge. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you withdrew slightly to send him an expectant stare. He was frowning now, so suddenly the delight of seeing you again was absent from him.

"What's wrong?" It was then you noticed Ignacio, waiting in his car that was parked out by the curb. "Did something happen? You want me to go get dressed, I'll check it out with you guys?" He didn't answer, he didn't make a move, his sharp brown eyes burned two holes straight through you. You hesitantly stepped back from him, nodding your head in understanding. "You're leaving." You knew this day would come, you just didn't think it would happen so suddenly. You wished you had more time.

"It's only a matter of time before they find out who I am..." He cocked his head from side to side. "But this won't be the last of me." He pointed to punctuate his words. "It will only be a few months, until the heat dies down.” 

"Well, uh..." You smiled, patting a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be missed." You cared about Lalo, but you knew this business and attachments were never a good idea. You needed to let him go, it was your job. You tucked your gun into your shorts, wedging it between your belly and the waistband of your underwear. When your eyes met his again, his lips were quirked up in a soft smile and he was considering you with a certain fondness. The same smile that made your heart skip a beat and heat blossom in your cheeks. "I guess it's back to Nacho Nada." You gestured loosely in Ignacio's direction, waving awkwardly at him when your eyes met from a distance. He didn't look too comfortable, or happy. 

"Nacho Nada?" Lalo laughed, one eyebrow lifting in question. 

"Yeah, it's what Tuco and I call him: all work, no play, nada divertido." Lalo glanced back at Nacho and smirked, turning back to you. 

"I like that. Nacho Nada." You crossed your arms and diverted your gaze to the concrete path leading up to your home. "Hey..." The soles of Eduardo's expensive shoes scuffed at the pavement as he stepped closer. His fingers pinched delicately at your chin and lifted your gaze. "I would ask you to come with, but there will be a lot going on. That doesn't mean you can't always come visit another time." 

"I would like that." You grabbed his wrist and turned his palm up to lay a tender kiss there. "You can finally teach me how to cook the Salamanca way." He snorted, making no effort to remove himself from your touch.

"Maybe. A good magician never reveals his secrets." You both laughed at that, until it died down to a stark silence. You rose your other hand up to cup his cheek and he leaned into you.

"You'll call me, right?" You whispered, caressing the dimple alongside his lips with your thumb.

"You know I will." You watched his Adam's apple bob, his hand twisting to grab yours and caress your knuckles. "Nacho will be coming with me for a few days. You'll be okay taking care of everything?"

"You know I will." You recited his words back to him. Part of you burning to crush those few inches that separated you both. All the time spent together, all the bonding, the growing trust, the unrelenting protectiveness over one another, and neither of you had shared such an intimate moment as this. 

"Take care of yourself, cielito." 

"I promise." He nodded, reluctantly withdrawing himself, his expression hardened and he slowly turned to walk away. 

He looked at you one last time before entering the vehicle. Little did you know, that would be the last time you ever saw Lalo Salamanca.

[1ivinqdeadqir1]

Masterlist:

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

BETTER CALL SAUL/BREAKING BAD:

Eduardo 'Lalo' Salamanca:

» Shades Of Cool series masterlist » Lalo being his SO's First

(headcanons)

Ignacio 'Nacho' Varga:

» Nacho Varga x PhDStudent!Reader

headcanons

Walter White:

» Porcelain Doll (Student x Teacher)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

THE WALKING DEAD:

Daryl Dixon:

» Tear You Apart: Masterlist

[abliafina-18782]

dance with the Devil

Pairing: Lalo x Nacho

Author’s Note: So remember that post I made about a year ago talking about Lalo forcing Nacho to dance? Yeah I finally wrote a fic for it. This one goes out to you @michaelmandog​

Warnings: Canon typical violence, spoilers for Better Call Saul

Word count: 5,5k

5 times Lalo wanted to dance and the 1 time Nacho did. 

I. Coushatta

It was just Nacho’s luck he had to deal with another Salamanca. The family was like a bunch of hydras. You cut one head off and two more grew back instantly. Getting Tuco locked up spawned Hector, and immobilizing Hector sent Eduardo Salamanca to him. At first glance, Lalo didn’t appear to be much of a threat. Offering him a taco he’d just cooked, smiling at Nacho like he was happy to see him.

No sane person was ever that happy and it bothered Nacho.

Lalo didn’t draw much attention to himself that first day, eating his tacos quietly, only asking the necessary questions here and there while Nacho and Domingo took care of the rest. It was later, when Blingy was short on cash again, that Nacho’s suspicions were confirmed about the newest Salamanca family member.

Cold and calculating, like a lion ready to pounce on its prey, Lalo narrowed his eyes on the dealer. He slammed Blingy’s head into the table, the loud thump ringing inside El Michoacáno. Lalo asked him if he thought it was funny to try and screw them out of money like this. He was eerily calm waiting for the response, resembling a parent waiting for their kid to fess up about lying.

When Blingy didn’t answer, Lalo ripped his ear off.

Continue reading

[nanabrainrot]

To Bear a Cross

Summary: Lalo wants a sacrificial lamb and gets it.

Warnings! THIS WORK IS NSFW. Forced marriage, dubious consent, internalized purity culture, misogynistic ideals, unhealthy relationship dynamics, insinuated stockholm syndrome

Word Count: 3913

Eduardo “Lalo” Salamanca/F!Reader

Prologue to Homemaker, Companion Piece to Companion Dog

AO3 6 Chapter Version: To Bear a Cross

The influx of money made more sense when you saw him.

Money had always been sparse, a luxury not afforded to people who followed the law and worked hard. It was a given that the true and honest were rich in morals and not in money as the Salamancas were. His eyes were dark and cold like the early hours of the morning, hard to look into without fear. He was unpredictable, but just a boy. Your father once said that the difference between a man and a boy happened when he stepped up; age didn’t matter but maturity did. Morale did. Empathy did.

He was young then and as were you. You think he was 18 and so were you that day.

“I thought you wanted to send her to college, old man?” Ah, it makes sense now.

“ I do! More than anything.” A choked sob, a guttural moan more akin to a wailing baby than the grown man you look at: your father. Endless hours in the fields, skin tinted permanent bronze and littered with sunspots and freckles alike. Rays beaming on him like a tattoo needle etched wrinkles into his forehead that were not originally there in your youth. 18 is young, but old enough to walk away, not like a 17-year-old and not like the girl you were at 5 asking why you could not get an education. As time sways, you have come to realize something: womanhood would not allow you the fruits of manhood, not in this lifetime.

“Then take our gift! My tio is being generous. You get more exports to more towns, stores, people! And more money, money for your girl to go to college,” the boy breathed excitedly, dark eyes blown wide with excitement and persuasion. His childish demeanor indicated a sense of unpredictability that left your belly churning uncomfortably. His face falls as your father’s wet eyes are set on the floor, decrepit and creaky, and not the boy. From the corner you peek around, just out of his peripheral, his face indicated he was taking your father’s hesitance as disrespect, his reluctance as a spit in the face. He wanted out with one foot in the quicksand and the rest of him wrapped in vines. “If you want her to go anywhere in life but this shitty little farm, you will say yes old man,” he hissed, losing his patience, “or do you want your girl selling pussy the rest of her life? Marrying some old fart to have a cozy bed.” Another choked sob that only results in the boy sighing and pursing his lips.

“You must love your girl, huh? You know, old man, my papa loved me so much he made me the man I am today. Masculine, macho, I make enough money in this month than you’ve seen in your lifetime.   Does that make you sick? Working endlessly to never see your girl go to school? Old man…” the boy draws closer, “don’t let the stick up your ass stand in her way.”

“I want out.”

“You can have out but think of her.”

“I want…” A hard breath. “I want her to be safe. And happy. This… this cartel shit. It isn’t safe. If something wrong happens, it isn’t about me. It’s about her.” The boy’s brows knit together, annoyed at the insinuation that he was anything other than respectful in his persuasion to allow the man to walk away from the growing cartel. “If something wrong happens what do you think will happen to her?”

“You kill me. You break her kneecaps. You… you…” his eyes finally left the floor to look at the boy with a cold stare, dead eyes. A man with no choice and only fear.

“I what?” he dared the man to indicate what he thought he would say.

“You violate her.”

A scoff. The boy rolled his eyes, body lulling casually to lean on one foot a little more. “Who me? I’m a good guy. A great guy, even. My pals are less nice.” It sounds like a threat, one that makes your breath hitch in your throat. You had never truly been intensely religious, but, before their passing, all the women in your family emphasized keeping yourself pure, for better words. Your time was sparsely spent with men that weren’t your father, him typically asking you stay in your room studying while the Salamanca cartel men came around to stock his trucks full of produce with cash to transport or bricks of white.

“Listen old man. It’s a yes or no question: do you want your daughter to live a poor life forever or get her education? If you keep up your end of the bargain with no questions, your daughter lives a clean life that happened to be funded with,” his fingers raise in quotation marks, “dirty money.”

Your father presses his back to the back of the sofa, sighing. One tear falls, a last one for the road. “I want her to live a clean life. I want to keep her in the dark. Just…” he pauses, “if I screw up. Take it out on me. Not on her. Make it an accident. Something. Anything. Just don’t get her involved.”

The boy grins, clapping his hands together and grinning, “Perfect! My boys will come by tomorrow night to stock up your truck. Once it gets to my cousins, you’re in the game.”

The boy turns, his young face cold but warm with glee. “Wait.”

The boy pauses. “Hm?”

“What’s your name?”

His face doesn’t bother to turn back to him, casual and uncaring as boys are, as he reaches for the door knob and opens it. He says, “Eduardo. But you can call me Lalo.”

 *

 It doesn’t come as a surprise when your father was weeping when you walked in the living room, a pleading voice to soothe the men with a gun in their hand, and it wasn’t a surprise when he wept at the wedding.

Lalo, that boy, has his eyes glued to you, a dog watching food hung over its mouth, starving, when you walk in the room. Meek, timid, a voice not over the appropriate number of decibels to not be an indoor voice. The uncertainty is tantalizing; it meant you were scared. The one who saves your life is named Lalo, the hothead next to him is furious with you and makes a fast movement to point the gun at you but a tan hand presses it down. The other man glances over, unsure what to make of his higher-ups movement but upon looking back and forth between you and Lalo it comes together.

You had no chance at that moment. There was no other option.

  Your daughter will never worry about a dime again. At first it sounded fantastical, but whatever is too good to be true typically is. Your father was groveling, begging and crying in a way that strained your heart so much it ached to even beat. He met you then came toward you, grinning, smiling a beautiful smile unlike anything you had ever seen. At least you had an attraction, something you were grateful for later on.

“You’re his daughter!” he says in a whisper, in your ear. So close his breath fans your ear and your nose picks up a cigarette scent and some Modelo.

“I am.”

“I’ve never seen you before. I’ve been dealing with him for months, but have never seen you. Why is that?”

“I stay in my room.”

“Hm,” he chuckles, “like a princess in a tower?”

“Not like that…” you avert your gaze, suddenly feeling the crushing pressure of his piercing eyes. He was charming, charismatics, something that is never good.

“You look like one.”

“A what?”

“A princess.” The air is so heavy it may as well have been a boulder on your back.

A beat. “Oh.” He throws his head back, so jolly, to laugh at your flustered nature. The man behind him coughs, blinking at Lalo with a stern look. “Lalo, don’t forget what Bolsa told us to do about the man and the girl. He’s too much of a risk. Too soft. The girl too. Bolsa isn’t sure if they’ll talk or not-“

“They won’t, ol’ boy.”

“And how do you know that Lalo? Bolsa gave us an order out of insecurity in their loyalty to us and –“

“I know because my girlfriend would never rat on me.”

 Ah, the first impression is so important.

 *

 Your father did not walk you down the aisle some days later. A ring appeared on your dresser the next day, worth more than you wanted to know, and your bedroom door was always unlocked in the morning, something you never did. Ever since getting involved with the cartel, your bedroom door was always locked. In the mornings, it was slightly ajar and there were items in disarray. Not as though ransacking, but the opposite: your room kept being altered with fine items. Vases of flowers appeared, a beautiful rug, a new cozy chair replaced your rickety homemade stool, and perfumes kept appearing. You didn’t originally sleep this well before but Lalo had been coming nightly for dinners. He had already made an awful impression on your father but demanded his company. He would sit there silent and resigned as Lalo brought in meat to cook and loom at the gas stove, the heat fanning his face until he had cooked the meal. He kept returning, his demanding presence like a black cloud over the house. His commitment feels joking until he took you to the courthouse. It was spring fading into summer but it was hot, it was June 8th and the overcast was beautiful.

“I do.”

A cloud crosses the sky, prancing like a ballerina against a backdrop of sunsetting hues of purple, orange, red and the moon hanging over it. It’s a beautiful to Lalo but not as beautiful as you.

“I do.”

A cloud crosses the sky like a body dragging itself to safety, slowly and tortured. It almost breathed like it had been kicked. The sky was an array of the colors of a bruise, purple and red and orange but no veins of green split the sky. The moon was pale, big, and unchanging. A big white eye looks down at you; a full moon. The cloud is like a finger, pointing and laughing, long and wiry with gaps that are a color of purple you’ll hate forever after today. That sweet plum color used to be the color of your favorite dress; you wonder what to do with it now.

His moustache is ticklish and his face is scary, the swooping black hair skimming your forehead when he dips to kiss your lips passionately. Everything about him demands your attention and devotion. The word “no” was no longer a part of your vocabulary, something you realized only the night before your wedding, the day prior in the wooded cabin coated in darkness and nothing but Lalo. The trees were Lalo, the moon was Lalo, the floor creaks were Lalo, the sofa, the bed, rug, the coffee mugs, and every atom in the house was Lalo.

 *

 Lalo has not given you any reason to be scared, his threats are more focused on others rather than you. Your face not typically writ in concern but usually in confusion. It is surreal. It is a dreamscape. “It’s a pre-honeymoon!” he cackles, opening the door to a gorgeous villa in the middle of absolutely nowhere. The air is hot, humid, and a thick. The forest is dark. The birds are cawing. You are crying.

“Why are you crying, princess?” he coos sweetly, as if talking to a child. Maybe even an infant. You sniffle, the sinking feeling of reality creeping into you in goosebumps as you sit alone with a man from the cartel who has had a gun to your father’s head more than once. You had seen him in passing from your window when he would come and make sure every brick and every dime was accurate. His face was so warm, so smiley from the window; you wondered what he’d be like up close in some schoolgirl fantasy in the back of your head. It was so innocent to just wonder.

It was less innocent to let it transpire. To ask for it. To seek it out.

You wondered about men occasionally, pondered it in passing. You spent the vast majority of your youth studying in your room, your father desperate for you to at least score well on college entry exams if he was going to homeschool you since the city and towns neighboring were too far for you safely to get to and from. Your car was unreliable. “The cartel men,” he warned, “would do terrible things to you.”

But it isn’t so terrible. Being with a man. His hands are big, warm, thick, and stroke your thigh soothingly as if petting a cat. He is savoring the feeling of your tights, the fabric of the hosiery enchanting his senses.

“How can I soothe you?” A small sniffle.

“Just hold me,” you ask, reluctant but desperate to at least appease the man with you, “please?”

“Yeah,” he breathes a hot breath, pulling you in by the waist into his side. He put on his pajamas a bit ago, it is consisting of nothing but plaid pants, so your thin shirt was pressing into his hot skin. You want to pull away, in some respect. This is impure. No, no, it will lead to something impure. It is different; to keep going was to defy any bit of logic and slip into whatever foul impulse you let lead you on a leash into a sick man’s bed.

It isn’t a bed though, so does it count? This is a thought that crosses your mind as your back arches against the sofa.

“I need to check something.”

“Check what, Lalo?”

“Your hymen.”

 *

 It is impure and you aren’t sure what a hymen is until after he’s palming your sex. The hosiery ripped away at the groin to make way (you loved that houndstooth tights and wondered internally where you had purchased it to get another one) for his palm, rough and thick. “No man before me?”

“Nuh-uh.” It doesn’t sound like you. It sounds like a high-pitched whine, like you were having a fit for something. A craving, like an addict for a fix without ever having touched the stuff: a fuck. He chuckles, deep from his chest, into the nape of your slick neck thanks to his constant attention to it; a plummy hue beginning to bloom where he sucked the skin raw. “I’m your first, hah?” he huffs, bucking his hips into your leg through the fabric of his pants. His dark eyes flicker up momentarily, looking at your face that was twisted in a lewd expression: your eyes blown wide like you were surprised and watery with want as if you’d cry at any second, the front of your brows only a little tense, and mouth ajar but chin wet with your drool and his spit. This was impure.

Lalo has no intention to fuck you tonight, no. That is a special event for the wedding day, but today was a layout of taste testing of appetizers before a grand entrée. This was impure, debauched beyond words, the sight of your mussed hair against the arm of the sofa and your chest, slick with his spit from sucking and biting at your sensitive spots, rising and falling like you were done running a mile. Your sensitivity to his contact with beautiful, memorizing the moment in his brain to replay it until he died; this was his life now. Everything else he had ever done was white noise to you. Every bullet shot, gun loaded, piece of money in his hand, and every modelo meant jack shit to this.

He wanted to see one thing. You twitch at the contact, his mouth meeting your nipple, and yelping at the constant overstimulation to push and push and push you. You worried you were going to pee, a strange warmth in your core was making you hot with a want for something but you weren’t sure what. His fingers go deeper, the middle and index, and one thing: he curls it.

It’s like white. It’s like a dip in the pool on a hot summer. It’s like a warm hug in a time of need. It’s like Lalo isn’t a drug dealer, cartel boy who stole you away and altered you in just some days after meeting you. It’s something you can do forever. It’s your first orgasm, the want to ask him to skip the wedding and stay in bed after the hour or so of his attention only being you, with a side of you, and you as the dessert. “Ah!” a jolt, a twitch, and you’re batting his arm away but it only excites him further to go faster, sucking hard at your nipple as your eyes water more and mouth open more and, like a dam breaking, your eye lets one tear fall, your mouth a bit of drool, and your eyes white for a split second before your head goes back to arching on the sofa to not see Lalo but the ceiling or, more accurately, the back of your eye sockets from rolling back. Your back must have been a perfect U from the way you were arching it and Lalo thinks this sound might be better than hearing  “I do” tomorrow.

The trees, the walls, the rug, the coffee mugs, are the only witnesses to a dam breaking and a mind with it as you tremble like a leaf and sob a high-pitched sob unlike you and so debauched you want to die with embarrassment after the fact. You see the ceiling, body still shaking, no senses registering other than the aftermath of touch. His face appears, looming over you, and you feel the hard skin pressing through his pants against your belly as he crawls up to meet your face where your head hangs over the arm. Lalo is so smug.

“The first of many, no? It’s an engagement gift for our pre-honeymoon.”

The ring feels so heavy. It burns your skin.

 *

 In light of recent events, you could have handled this better. The temperament of your husband was particularly poor with others but he often made better calls in judgement when women were involved. Men, he argued once, are more capable creatures than women; they are like animals.

He uses that argument when you are no longer allowed to see anyone but the chaperones who won’t look you in the face. Their cold eyes looking through and passed you, but never in the eyes. He had buried some men whose gaze lingered on you through methods you had thought been left in medieval times. His machismo thinking stemming from years, centuries, of diluted values based on women being a weaker and less capable sex. It is some years later when you think he’s right.

Across from him, a man named Ignacio stares at you, who sits on an adjacent counter in a beautiful villa. Your eyes do not find him, but look past him. As a wife, you duty is to honor your husband with respect. To live by him and for him. The classic thinking prevailed time for a reason, why would it live on if not right? You wondered if natural selection applied to certain thought processes. The books on the shelf behind Nacho attract your attention, but not moreso than your husband, whom you glance at often Nacho noted. Your dress is a tight, thin cotton nightgown that hugs your body. The pattern is some pointelle dotting with a little letter embroidered on the chest. Sliding from the counter, you touch Lalo’s shoulder, which he immediately replies to by reaching to stroke the flesh of your hand. “I’m wanna go read. Is that okay with you, Lalito?” you ask in a voice barely over a whisper. Nacho ponders how Lalo could even hear you with the softness of your words. “Of course, baby,” he reassures, patting your ass as you stride past Nacho wordlessly and beeline for the arrangements of paperbacks of thick and thin. The embroidered letter was E. Nacho does not look back her, refusing to acknowledge the movement unless asked to specifically. Lalo rarely mentioned his wife, the only indication being a tattooed ring on his ring finger and the way he occasionally looked at a photo of her in his wallet in the car when he was driving. The energy of possession was rippling off him in waves. Nacho hears the flipping of some pages and the settling of weight on the sofa behind him; did you ever leave Lalo’s gaze? He doubted it. Lalo looks past Nacho, staring at you, while talking to him, “But that’s business for next time. I was just being nice, my little lady doesn’t get many guests and I trust you enough to not be stupid with her.”

“Huh? Stupid how?”

“You didn’t look at her, Ignacio,” he smiles a smile that don’t reach his eyes, “good.” A small chuckle leaves him as he goes to stand. “Thanks for stopping by. Let me walk you out, my friend.”

The footfalls don’t attract her attention to Nacho, but she is fixed on Lalo. Her cold eyes accentuated with thick lashes from an expensive makeup store no doubt and her lips shifted anxiously in their shiny gloss coating as she watched Lalo walk to the entryway from the sofa. He feels like he walked into something, like an animal’s enclosure that only connected with one zookeeper. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lalo?” Nacho asks, looking back through at him as he passes the threshold.

His blood runs cold, staring at the silhouette of you standing stiff at the end of the dark entryway some paces back. Just the outline of your figure backed by the ambient lighting that was overhead on the high ceiling and the peripheral of the open concept kitchen showing a face that still didn’t see him: only Lalo.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, buddy,” he grins. The slam of a door, the wood, is heavy and harsh. The wind of Albuquerque is heavy and harsh, beating on his body as he opens his glossy car door and retreats into his car. A feeling of pity, hot and stomach-churning, warms his belly in a way he couldn’t explain. Your cold gaze fixed with tunnel vision on the monster in man’s skin and he has seen the markers of possession on you. A giant ring worth hundreds of thousands no doubt accented your thin finger and the embroidered E on your dress were the two thing that stood out to him but, in rightfully not looking any further at you he missed the tattoos, the acrylic nails that spelled “LALO” on the four fingers that were not your thumb, and the hickeys littering your neck.

The embroidery bothered him for a moment, as he got into bed. E. E. E. E. What was E again?

Oh.

E stands for Eduardo. You sleep in a plum nightgown, curled in his arms like a dog with her owner, and peace is all you know because all you know is Eduardo.

[simping-for-people-i-shouldnt]

A Colorless Drug

part 4???? I think??? Sorry school as been WILD.

Lalo salamanca x OC

please go read the others if you haven’t already 🖤

“Go on without me, I’ll only take a moment.” Lalo said, shooing the two out of the building. Mire and Ignacio both started towards the car. Ignacio shook his head with a sigh as he opened the car door. Mire rest their hand on the handle of the back door and stood there,

“Biggest balls of the four direction huh?” Mire laughed.

Nacho dramatically pretended to hit his head against the car multiple times before sliding into the front seat,

“Fucking Salamancas man.” He said as Mire sat in the back and laid their head against the window.

“Dude honestly. Those poor old people are only going to hear that bell from now on that shit is loud.” Nacho shook his head in response with a labored sigh.

“When will this fucking end….” He muttered under his breath. Mire looked at him with pained eyes.

“One day at a time.”

“One day at a time” Ignacio repeated before the passenger door opened and Lalo plopped himself in the car seat,

“What we talkin’ about?” He interjected.

“Lunch.” Mire fibbed.

Lalo looked over his shoulder at her. “Oh good idea, hm. You know what? I think I’m craving chicken. Anyone else?”

He paused and looked to Nacho, who hand was resting on the wheel. Nacho shrugged, making a gesture with his hand. Eduardo looked back at Mire who diverted their unnerved gaze too the window.

“Great! Los Pollos Hermanos it is!” Lalo said, abruptly clapping his hands together before leaning back in his seat. Ignacio sighed and started the car, pulling out of the driveway.

Mire sat beside Ignacio as Lalo set his plate on the table across from them, adjusting his shirt before sitting in the booth. Lalo picked up a piece of chicken, waving it infront of Mire’s face,

“Here, Mire, you should try it.”

Mire put their hand up and shook their head, “No, I’m, I’m okay, thank you.”

“You sure? It’s surprisingly good.”

Mire shook his head and started at their hands on the table. Lalo sighed and shrugged, biting into the chicken and picking around his plate for another piece.

“Is Mire even their name?” He asked, looking at Ignacio, who just shrugged slightly. He looked to Mire for an answer, who kept their eyes diverted. Lalo shook his head in slight irritation, though his smirk never left his face. He leaned forward and muttered to Nacho in Spanish. Mire glanced over the head of the booth at Gustavo, who had emerged from his office with a disturbed frown splayed over his face. Gus made his way to table, adjusting to a costumer-service facade but keeping his stare glued on Mire until she broke eye contact, at which point he turned his hawk-like gaze to Eduardo.

“Is everything to your liking?“ Gus asked with a pressed friendly smile. The occupants of the table looked up at him. Lalo leaned back, wiping his hand clean on a napkin as he spoke with food still in his mouth,

“Are you kidding me?” He smiled and gestured at the food on his plate, exclaiming,

“This is the best chicken I have ever had.”

Mire and Ignacio both glanced at each other and shifted. Mire felt as a part of Nacho’s soul died from embarrassment at how Lalo was presenting himself. They patted his thigh under the table as reassurance before turning their hands in their lap to twiddle their thumbs.

Gus chuckled and smiled between Mire, Nacho, and Lalo,

“Well, I’m delighted to here that!”

Mire noticed Nacho stare at Gus, his face seemingly apologetic.

“No really I’m serious!” Lalo went on,

“I mean, it’s crispy-“ he started.

Mire shifted again with a quiet sigh, “Oh god….” They muttered under their breath. Nacho suppressed a scoff.

“But it’s not dried out.” Lalo continued. Mire was unsure if he hadn’t heard their remark or simply chose to ignore them.

“And, the seasoning is so…” Lalo starred at his plate, “flavorful!”

Ignacio rubbed his face with his hands in exasperation.

“Thank you.” Gus said with an almost genuine smile, “is there anything else I can do for you?“

Lalo glanced at Mire with a grin before looking back at Gus and moving forward in the booth;

“Is there any chance- and I know the answer is probably no- but is it possible for me to meet the owner?” He asked, glancing around the restaurant.

“I’m the owner.” Gus said, a slight venom lacing his voice.

“Really?” Lalo feigned surprise and delight in a manner that would make even the worst high school drama student cringe.

“How lucky for me.”

Mire studied Lalo, though his face displayed a kindness, his eyes were wide with near murderous intent. Mire quickly moved his gaze back to Nacho, suppressing the shiver that caught in their spine.

“Would you be interested in franchising because I would be eager to invest.” Lalo said, moving forward again.

“Well perhaps we should go to my office where we can discuss it further.” Gus nearly demanded.

“Excellent!” Lalo said, glancing over to Mire,

“You come with me.” He started to stand, gesturing at Mire to do the same as he pointed to them and looked back at Gus, “this is my business associate, he told me about this place.” He fibbed with a gleeful look. Gus turned his attention to Mire as she stood

Lalo pointed at Nacho, then the plate on the table,

“Don’t waste that!” He slid from the booth as Gus gestured for him to go towards his office. Gustavo put a hand infront of Mire, giving them a stern and questioning look. When he realized they had no answers, he looked to Ignacio, who shrugged back uncomfortably. Gus nodded for Mire to follow Eduardo. Mire looked at Nacho who gave them a slight “

‘it’s okay’ nod. Mire quickly caught up with Lalo glancing around Gus’ office.

“What’s with the shirt rack?” Lalo asked, staring at it.

“I have no idea.” Mire muttered back.

“He doesn’t live here right?”

Mire shook their head, “No, he actually has quiet a nice home.”

Lalo hummed in response.

“Why am I here?” Mire asked quietly.

“Observation.” Lalo said, glancing over his shoulder to see Gus stopped at the front desk, discussing something with one of his employees.

“Observing what, exactly?”

“Dynamics, I want you to become… more of a social actor in the field instead of being the…. Oddly tiny body guard. You’re worth more than a fighter, Nacho tells me good things about you. You’re cunning, and manipulative when need be. That’s what I’m looking for in a right-hand man sort.” Lalo said with a smile, clapping a hand on Mire’s shoulder, “that being said, you’re going to need to learn Spanish, mì niño.”

“Sir, I’m flattered but I’m quiet comfortable in my job-“

“And you’re going to have to brave up to taking those god forsaken masks off.”

“Sir-“

“And for the love of everything stop calling me sir.”

Mire looked at the floor and feel silent as Gus walked into the office after them.

“Please, take a seat.” Gus offered. Lalo nodded and sauntered over to the desk as Gus went to the opposite side. Mire remained standing behind Lalo’s chair with their hands politely crossed behind their back.

“Now, what can I do for you, Senõr-?” Gus started, sitting behind his desk and splaying his hands out infront of him to ask for Lalo’s name.

“Salamanca.” Lalo replied in a sing-song tone. Gus adjusted himself in his seat with a slight irritation.

“Eduardo Salamanca, but you can call me Lalo.” Lalo smiled and nodded. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder at Mire then refocused on Gus.

“And you’re Gustavo Fring. I’ve been an admirer of yours for many years… you have how many of these restaurants?”

“Seven.” Gus stated.

“-Seven-“ Lalo said, looking to Mire with wide eyes. He mouthed the word again to them with a teasing look of bewilderment. Mire nodded back at him, attempting to humor his childlike demeanor with a smile hidden behind their mask. Lalo’s tone shifted to serious,

“And starting from nothing… that’s incredible.” There was a sense of sincerity in his voice, but it was almost as if he was copying Gus’ fake persona. Mire couldn’t tell if he was mirroring as a defense mechanism, or as a manipulation tactic.

“What may I do for you?” Gus pressed.

a/n

okay im really hoping the next chapter I can actually get into the scene I’ve been wanting to and explore Mire in an NSFW situation with Lalo.

[dead-fandom-imagines]

Diosa | Eduardo “Lalo” Salamanca Fanfiction

Wow guys, I literally posted my idea less than 24 hours ago and I’ve gotten so much love and support from it. It makes me cry happy tears :’)

As per usual, here is the new summary and the faceclaim for the new characters. I hope you love it!! I’ll be posting the first chapter as soon as I can!!

Diosa | Eduardo “Lalo” Salamanca x OC Fanfiction

Tags: Canon violence and drug and alcohol mentions, blood, gore, cursing, explicit sex scenes, unreliable narrator, and characters who are psycho and know it

SUMMARY:

Alessandra and Mateo Vuente are the children of infamous cartel leader, Don Eladio, who now share partial responsibility of helping with their father’s drug affairs across the Mexico and United States Border. 

The Salamanca’s know that whoever they marry will obtain the power, the riches, and the world of Eladio’s criminal ring and become one of the many dons after their father passes, but Hector fears more outsiders will try to wiggle themselves in and take that prize. But if Alessandra marries a Salamanca, he doesn’t have to worry, right? 

CHARACTER INTRODUCTIONS/FACECLAIMS:

Ariadne Diaz as Alessandra Vuente

Aarón Díaz as Mateo Vuente

[multifandomhaven]

Pairing: Lalo Salamanca x reader Word count: 1.7k A/N: So my love for Lalo has suddenly slapped me in the face and I can’t get enough of him. I couldn’t find any Lalo x reader fics so I decided to let my mind run wild with this one. I figure he’d be a flirty guy bc have you seen this man? He oozes charm and his mouth never stops, so it’s pretty much a given.

Also, I speak zero Spanish and used Google Translate for this, so please don’t hold the translations against me if they’re wrong.

The woman watched as the children mingled among the elderly - boys running amok while the girls spoke with the older ladies about their snowy hair and the rings on their fingers. It was controlled chaos - they were, of course, under the watchful eye of the staff, but it was chaos all the same.

She was kept constantly on her toes. Just as she finished ushering a group of children out of the cafeteria she noticed a few of the students approaching a man in a wheelchair. She watched for signs of discomfort on his face, knowing that kids weren't some people's cup of tea, and found that and more when she saw his eyes. They were hard and he seemed like he didn't want to be a part of the rambunctious activity, so she stepped over to the children crowding around him and quickly directed them elsewhere.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, her smile genuine as she spoke to him, "I'll try to reign them in."

He hardly moved, his eyes scanned her as they sat there in what she felt like was a standoff, but she could tell by the breath that heaved out of him that he wasn't pleased. His lips twitched and she waited for him to say something, but he only continued to stare. He moved his arm only slightly - almost undetectable -until his finger hovered over what looked to be a bell that had been tied onto the arm of his chair by a string. The digit shook for a moment before he flicked his wrist and a shrill ding echoed throughout the room.

Some of the children looked around for the sound while others ignored it completely. The teacher, not knowing what the sound might be indicating just gave him another quick apology and scurried away, snapping gently at one of the children as they reach for an elder gentlemen's glasses, eager to try them on.

"No," she reprimanded him, pointing her finger so that he'd understand she was speaking to him. "We don't need to be sharing personal belongings with these nice people, okay?"

Sneaking in a quick moment she leaned against the wall and sighed heavily - pleased that this was one of the last field trips of the year. She didn't know if she could handle many more with this group - as sweet as they were they were also just as rambunctious. She pushed off the wall and herded the group of tiny humans onto the stage to perform the song they'd been practicing for weeks.

They settled on the stage, the teacher in the middle and the children surrounding her in a circle.

The residents gathered around, eager to hear what they'd prepared - even the wheelchair bound man watched them from his corner of the room. Glancing up, the teacher looked in his direction and was mildly surprised to see another man with him, younger, but older than her still. He spoke to the man with the bell in hushed whispers, his words shared between only them, before his eyes, too, were upon the stage.

The new man's inky gaze found her own and she held it as he made himself comfortable in his chair, sitting back like he owed the place, legs spread and one elbow propped up onto the table, his eyes shining with interest. His free hand ran through his dark hair before he raised his chin to her in acknowledgement.

Tearing her concentration away the woman cleared her throat and then quietly started their count - the agreed upon count of three - and then strummed the guitar in her lap.

The children watched her, mesmerized as always when the notes came together, blending into the beloved song. She'd strummed through the beginning once and when one had began to sing the woman took it upon herself to get them started. She opened her mouth, the words dancing from her tongue as easily as she breathed. Her voice was soft, and suddenly all eyes were on her.

"I see trees of green, red roses too I see them bloom for me and you And I think to myself what a wonderful world"

She glanced around at the children, her bright smile encouraging some of them to join in. Some began to sway while they sang and in just a few moments they'd finally found harmony. Their voices melded together into something beautiful, bringing a tear to many of the resident's eyes. Most of the watched, their hands clasped together in happiness, while some of the others locked hands and swayed gently to the tune.

Almost as soon as it began, the song was over.

The class stood up, locked hands and gave a small bow. They waved and made their way to the door, the teacher checking her list as they passed her one by one to gather on the school bus. Once she was sure she had everyone marked she glanced back inside the double doors and caught the mysterious man's eyes once again. She could feel the weight of his stare even before she turned, and she gave him a small wave.

He returned it with a great smile - his teeth even whiter against the mustache on his lip.

The entire ride back to school she thought of the dark eyed man's stare - his predatory gaze and his grin that was so big it looked like it hurt. She was an independent woman, she was strong and she knew that she should be above such juvenile thoughts, but she couldn't help but blush when she thought of his demeanor. He was shockingly confident, even they way he sat was like he was offering a challenge to the world around him, his shoulders were back and his held held high. His interesting choice in shirts was also something she'd picked up on quickly - she hadn't met many men that wore what looked like such a delicate fabric - not to mention the dizzying design printed on it.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and went about her day - her mind drifting from the man back to her work.

Until a few days later in a restaurant on the other side of town.

Work had drained her and instead of preparing her own meal she'd decided to stop by and get a quick meal - El Michoacáno was on her route home and she was suddenly hungry for some Mexican cuisine, so she pulled into the parking lot and stepped out. She straightened her shirt and smoothed down her hair before she grabbed her purse and went inside.

Upbeat music blared overhead and the smell of spices and the sizzling sound of the grill was nearly enough for her to begin to salivate. Her eyes were glued to the menu ahead and she stepped forward.

The man behind the counter greeted her quickly and she ordered back just as fast - the number six looked amazing. She reach into her purse and fished for her wallet when suddenly there was a warm hand on her arm.

"Please," a happy voice came from beside her. "Allow me."

She glanced over and was once again met with a blinding grin from the man at the retirement home. He wagged his eyebrow at her once and then reach some money over the counter. He leaned against it, looking down at her with the same curiosity he had watched her with only a few days earlier.

"You're the teacher that performed at Casa Tranquila , no?"

The woman bit back a grin. "That's right. And you're the guy with the colorful shirts."

A chuckle tore out of his throat. "Si, si. I enjoy this particular pattern," he motioned to the floral design that decorated his chest. "I've got to admit, senorita, you've been on my mind for the last few days."

"Oh?" She grinned, looking down at the flowy white shirt and then down to her simple blue jeans. "The lack of color in my wardrobe keeping you up at night?"

"No, no, no," he smiled. "Your clothes suit you. It would be a crime for you to wear such a thing."

She raised a brow and joked, "so you've claimed all patterns then?"

"You misunderstand." He raised his hand and motioned to her face. "Why try to take the attention away from such a beautiful face?"

It was like a fire was lit beneath her - her cheeks burned, all the way to the tips of her ears, and she found herself tucking her hair back - something she hadn't done since middle school. She inwardly cursed her actions, but was able to mumble out a quick, "thank you."

"No, what I've been thinking about is your song," he told her. 

She laughed and grabbed her order when the man behind the counter held it out to her. She gave him a quick thank you and turned back to the man still leaning against the counter. "The kids love it, too. It's a classic."

"Si," he agreed once again. "Forgive my manners, señorita, I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Eduardo, but you can call me Lalo."

"Lalo," she repeated. "I've got to admit it's better than calling you shirt guy."

He chuckled again, his eyes never leaving her. "You're a peculiar woman."

"So I've been told," she admitted. She held her free hand out to him, offering a proper handshake. "I'm Y/N."

"Y/N," Lalo said, taking her hand in his own. His hand was large, warm and oddly smooth. Her name rolled off his tongue like honey and she had to fight the tingle that shot down her spine, sending heat straight to her belly. "And now I don't have to call you Profesora de canto."

"I guess not," she agreed. She glanced down to the food in her hand. "Thanks again for the food."

He shrugged. "Of course."

"Maybe sometime I can pay you back," she offered slyly.

Lalo grinned, this time brightest of all. "I'll hold you to it."

*Profesora de canto - singing teacher (again, this is according to Google Translate)

[slamminslamminmcgill]

⚖️Masterlist⚖️

Fics are in red

Drabbles are in blue

HCs are in green

Shitposts/Miscellaneous are in pink

Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca

Saul Goodman/Jimmy McGill/Gene Takovic

Outed

Terms of Employment

Breeding Kink

Remote Control Vibrator

Gene Takovic

FTM Chaser

Hair Pulling

Gender Neutral Reader Assistant

Closing Time

Kitten Petplay

Take the Edge Off

Positive Reinforcement

Jimmy McGill x FTM!Reader

Dom!Reader x Sub!Jimmy

Piss Kink

Slip of the Tongue

Watersports Sub Jimmy

Buttslut Jimmy McGill

Lunch Break

NSFW Alphabet

Saul + Lalo teaching Reader to suck dick

More Piss Kink

Did I stutter?

VCH Piercing

Mike watching Reader/Jimmy in the parking garage

Chaser Jimmy being gross

Chicanerous

First Time for Everything

Rimmy McGill

Gustavo “Gus” Fring

Meeting GenderNeutral!Reader (SFW)

Brat Taming

Tug of War (Lalo x Reader x Gus)

Obedience Training

Box Cutter

Dubcon/Intox/Degradation

Jesse Pinkman

Psychedelic

Orgasm Denial/Wetting

Misery Loves Company

Are We There Yet? (Jesse x Reader x Mike)

Tuco Salamanca

General HCs

Tuco x Younger Feminine Boyfriend

Brandon "Badger" Mayhew

FTM!Reader

Splash Zone

Howard Hamlin

Take Control

Lalo x Reader x Howard

Breeding Kink

Kim Wexler

Mommy Kink

Nacho Varga

Bear Witness (Lalo x Reader x Nacho) 2

General HCs

Nacho's Childhood (SFW)

Mike Ehrmantraut

Rise and Shine

Are We There Yet? (Jesse x Reader x Mike)

Mike watching Reader/Jimmy in the parking garage

Sit Still

Joel Miller (TLOU)

Front

Upstairs Neighbor

Joel Miller x FTM!Reader

Breeding/Anal

Butt Stuff

Burning Rage

Breeding Kink

Talking you through anal

Old Man Dick