#i had therapy today so blorbo salamanca is gonna fix me :)

[slamminslamminmcgill]

Plz I am in LOVE with your blog.

Anyway I just finished s6ep8 and im heart broken </3 But I'm fucking obsessed w Lalo praising his bf, it literally makes me so weak. If you could write somethin of Lalo rewarding and praising his good boy pretty please 🙏

been having a rough week so this is exactly what i need rn 🥹 happy to provide bestie

Lalo Salamanca was not known for being gentle.

To everyone else, that is. You were a different story. You were the one person he was gentle with. Where others saw a snarling monster, you saw a cuddly teddy bear. Where others saw viciousness, you saw passion. Love is always strongest from one who saves it up.

That's why, when you came home crying, he wasted no time taking you into his arms. He squeezed you tight and let you cry, using his floral shirt as a Kleenex to dry your tears. Lalo knew better than to ask. He didn't have to; it didn't matter. Whatever it was, it could wait. He had to take care of you first and foremost, so he stroked your hair and let you cry.

His voice was warm tea with honey, a cure for every ailment. "Shh, shh, está bien. Está bien, querido (It's okay. It's okay, darling). Let it out. I'm here. Whatever you need, I'm here. What can I do for you?"

You didn't pull away, mumbling your answer into his chest. "I wanna go to bed."

"Okay, sure. You need some rest. C'mon, I'll take you upstairs. I'll make sure to be quiet for you." He tried to peel you off him, but you just pulled him tighter.

"I'm not tired..."

He raised an eyebrow as he connected the dots in his head. When he figured out what you meant, his lips curled into a gentle smile. "Oh, I see..." He patted your head, a signal to look up at him. You obliged. "You want me to take care of you? You want me to make you feel pretty, yeah?"

You nodded. That's all you wanted. That's all you needed.

Lalo squeezed you tight before he patted your shoulders. "Well, you got the right man for the job. Don't you worry about a thing, mi vida (my life). We're gonna have fun, okay?"

He led you upstairs to the bedroom and laid you down on the silk sheets. "Good boy. You just lay back and relax, okay? Shh, you're okay. I'm gonna make you feel good. I'll make it all better." He planted kisses all over your desperate body. On your face, soaking up your tears. On your neck, breathing in your scent. He peeled your shirt off so he could kiss the scars across your chest, after which he said, "I love this, you know. I love taking care of you. You deserve it. Such a good boy. You deserve to feel good." He smooched down your stomach until he reached the waistband of your pants. His gorgeous brown eyes, the eyes of a killer, mutilating you with love, gazed up at you in desire. "May I?" he asked.

You nodded, lifting your hips to allow him access, to let him strip you of your barriers, to leave you vulnerable in front of him. Anyone else would have been horrified in your situation, to be so weak and defenseless with him, but you weren't. You were horrified at the thought of being without him.

Lalo could tell. He tossed your clothes aside and nudged your legs apart. Firm hands caressed your thighs as he lowered himself to your burning heat. Your eyes clenched shut, waiting to feel him, but you didn't. You opened your eyes to see him staring at you, a look of pure adoration on his face. He had something to say before he got to work:

"I love you."