summary — lalo’s temper is out of control after you unintentionally talk back
word count — 9.2k
warnings — 18 + MDNI, age gap (reader 24, lalo 44), gunplay, controlling/threatening behavior, unhinged responses, established relationship, ass play, vulgar, demeaning speech, hair pulling, rusty spanish (sorry), natural bodies with hair & curves, TOXIC
author's note — i have no excuses…i just hope this reaches the right type of people xoxo
part 1 | part 1.5 | part 2 coming soon
what did you expect to happen when giving lip to lalo salamanca? he already made it clear that you were disposable, useless, and only used your dumb little mouth to take his cock. you were a piece of arm candy, a sweet little treat only meant for him and him only. if lalo didn't care about you then you'd be buried in the desert, but lalo cared—to an extent. the extenuating circumstances of his care meant you weren't allowed to interrupt him, be mouthy, or interfere with his business dealings. that was simple enough, but unfortunately, you slipped up today after a very long spell of good behavior.
it was as hot as a day in hell, and you were lounging on a pool float, occasionally spooning water onto your stomach and chest. that little neon green string bikini didn't leave much to the imagination, but it didn't matter seeing as everyone was more interested in the drinks, music, and hired women. lalo knew how to throw a party, a little morale booster, to celebrate an increase in territory which in turn turned more profitable.
your drink in the pool cooler had floated too far away; the most difficult task was being unable to keep the miniature ice chest closer so you wouldn't have to go without your fix of the fruity seltzers lalo always kept stocked for you. imagine that you, the young, hot fiancè, have no other issues in the world other than your drink floating away and keeping lalo happy. what a hard life, being fed with a silver spoon by a don of the cartel.
the laziness was apparent when you slid off the raft and had to wade over to the fleeting cooler. you adjusted your rounded sunglasses on the bridge of your nose as you made your way across the length of the pool. you moved sluggishly, letting out an exaggerated sigh as you managed to capture the floating drink holder.
lalo was standing in the water, leaning over the edge of the pool to play his next hand of cards. he folded, tossing them to the center of the low fold-out table, a curse leaving his mouth. he ran a hand through his graying hair. the ends of his shirt were wet from resting in the pool water. the light pink shirt was unbuttoned, which left just enough of his chest uncovered to not be indecent, yet somehow more sexy because he looked so put together.
lalo had folded at the turn and was slightly perturbed that he wasn't able to have any luck as the cards were overturned. he couldn't continue to bluff when he knew vasquez, a short portly man sporting three thick golden chains, who was responsible for the product transportation routes definitely had good cards. he kept smirking around the rim of the red solo cup he used to spit out his chewing tobacco. lalo knew he could stay in through the river, but knew vasquez wouldn't fold ultimately leading to lalo's loss during the showdown.
another round began. all seven players had placed their initial bets to begin.
“amor⁽ˡᵒᵛᵉ⁾,” lalo called softly, using two of his fingers to gesture you over. “give me some luck,” he said looking at his new hand of cards once they were dealt. “solo un poco⁽ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ˡᶦᵗᵗˡᵉ⁾,” he insisted, pointing to his cheek.
this hand didn't seem to be in lalo’s favor either seeing as the highest card he was dealt was a five of clubs and that was paired with a three of hearts.
you rolled your eyes though it went unnoticed because your sunglasses were shielding your eyes. you dragged the miniature ice chest with you, gliding it through the water behind you. lalo’s mustached face revealing a sly smirk as you planted a kiss onto his cheek. your drink was in your hand, ready to return to the drifting pool float.
“stay with me,” lalo had a firm hold on your hip as you tried to pull away. he hadn’t had enough of you just yet. your oiled and exposed skin was enough to celebrate especially after having basically nothing to work with as the flop was revealed.
you stood in front of him with his arms wrapped around you. he had his chin placed on your head so he could still focus on his poker match. you moved your ice chest to the pavement so there was no chance that you'd have to exert any extra effort to chase it down again.
lalo was studying the group silently while listening to you run the poker chips through your fingers. the thick discs clicked together softly as you put them in their proper color-coded stacks instead of loosely sorted in front of him in his section of the table.
his wide nose pressed into your cheek, dragging up to your temple and then right above your ear. his breathing was even as breathed in your scent of coconut sun cream, a spritz of a hibiscus perfume, and the salt water.
you were looking at his cards, knowing his hidden annoyance would probably grow if those community cards wouldn't become any better. he raised the bet by another five hundred dollars, forcing the next two men to fold before the turn was revealed. he was hoping his ability to bluff this round would ultimately result in the overall win.
it was interesting to see how little lalo valued money. he had more than he knew what to do with, spending wads of cash on casual poker matches was nothing in comparison to the stacks of money he and the other salamancas were sitting on top of. even the men sitting across from lalo, unrelated to him, had more cash than they knew what to do with.
you couldn't deny your carelessness as well; you had everything you wanted plus more all because of lalo. your swimwear might not have been designer, but the pareo you carelessly threw on the pool chair before getting in the saltwater was pucci, and so were the matching shoes. now the singular piece of wavy patterned coverage and vibrant sandals were discarded. the tortoiseshell printed glasses from neiman marcus that you bought with you into the resort-style pool brought your outfit of very few pieces to cost right over seventeen hundred dollars—now, that was simply pocket change. that was, of course, without mentioning the price of the princess-cut diamond engagement ring that lalo had hired some foreign jewelry expert to design.
so, yes, you were a good, little spoiled fiancè, dumbing yourself down just enough to please lalo, accept his every will, and stay the fuck out of his way to keep receiving the treatment he had promised you. he didn’t want to be alone—correction—he didn’t have to be alone, so why wouldn’t he pick someone pretty, yet still impressionable enough to control.
you dug into the cooler, taking your seltzer to your mouth. the cold sweat from the outside of the can dripped onto your chest. you swallowed the fizzy alcohol, a sickly sweet blend of trouble because it tasted more like candy rather than the tipsy blend of liquor it contained.
lalo’s nose was buried in your hair as you continued to drink. a stream of the cold canned seltzer beaded down your chest, splashing between your cleavage. a stray few droplets flecked onto the cement immediately being absorbed into the searing ground.
the fellow card players noticed you more than the ladies being paid who sat next to them. their wandering eyes finding you, becoming easily more relaxed on the cushions and beach towels they were sitting on.
“ten cuidado⁽ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ/ᵇᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡ⁾,” lalo mumbled into your ear. his mustache grazed the lowest part of your helix, just above your ear lobe, brushing into contact with the three small rings. they were pierced one on top of the other.
you stiffened in his hold, setting down your drink next to his empty bottles of modelo. you looked at the stout bottles and cleared your throat. a flush had risen on your cheeks, embarrassed from the lingering gazes and drink mishap.
lalo couldn't blame anyone else for looking at you because even when working in his study he made you sit by him so he could watch you. it was like you existed to be stared at.
“i’ll be right back with another drink for you,” you offered, collecting the three empty bottles from his area of the table.
you didn’t give him a chance to deny it. you parted ways from him. his arms were bowed out wide as if you were still standing in front of him as you left. he was still lingering on the fact that your body was against him only moments prior.
you held the scolding railing as you dragged yourself out of the pool heading to the outdoor bar. you passed the caterers who had overtaken the patio area and helped yourself to the fridge pulling out a fresh bottle of unopened modelo.
“helping yourself today, chica⁽ᵍᶦʳˡ⁾?” ignacio “nacho” varga, a frequent goer of lalo’s social events questioned from his stool. he wanted no part in another poker game after lalo’s pestering from the first round. he tried his best to be a good sport but was finding it hard to focus with a gnat in his ear. a gnat he would never be able to shoo.
ignacio was under the covered patio, leaning against one hand. although he was in a shaded area, he could still feel the sun on his bare back, beads of sweat were on his forehead even with the ceiling fans circulating the area. his glass was dripping from the condensation occasionally making him wipe the droplets on his paisley-patterned swim trunks.
“no, helping mi bebé⁽ᵐʸ ᵇᵃᵇʸ⁾,” you corrected nacho while wiggling the beer bottle.
ignacio wasn’t surprised by that answer. no one at that party would've been surprised by that answer. you were devoted to lalo, and he liked it that way. he wouldn't put up with anything less.
“you don’t seem like you’re having any fun.”
your head peaked up at nacho’s assessment of your attitude. you were plucking olives out of a chilled dish and taking a handful of them.
“cards never were my strong suit,” you shrugged, placing a salty snack into your mouth. your left eye slightly twitched, moments prior you were dropping sugary onto your taste buds and now the olives were counteracting every taste of saccharine.
“they aren’t mine either, but definitely not when i’m taking lalo in large doses,” he teased, taking a long drink from his short glass. by this point in the day, he probably made himself an ungodly amount of mixed drinks, trying to look busy enough to not join the other men for poker again.
“what?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing together. you were trying to figure out if you heard him correctly. he didn't bash lalo, but he definitely made a comment opposing him.
“i never was good at figuring him out,” nacho leaned against his hand, sliding his half-empty drink forward as if he was telling himself to give up on his solo drinking. “i don’t know how you do it every day.”
he wasn't being condescending or rude. he genuinely was questioning how you did it, hell, a lot of people did. you always were properly dolled up any time you made an appearance with lalo, kept your mouth shut, and seemed like a hired servant doing whatever he mentioned.
you shrugged as you slid the cover of the ice well closed on the counter. it concealed the olives, cut citrus, and other garnishes that needed to be chilled. you could feel beads of water still occasionally running down your legs from your soaked bathing suit.
you could hear laughter coming from the poker table, specifically lalo’s. you didn't know if he was the most distinct or if you were just more accustomed to hearing it.
“i never figured him out either,” you confessed, your eyes trailing up to make eye contact with him. a smile cracked at the corner of your mouth.
nacho chuckled, taking his drink back into his hand. he could drink to that. “so, the senorita does have a mind?”
“i never claimed i didn’t,” you said looking back at the card players. your fiancé’s voice had only grown louder. he seemed to be in better spirits, maybe his luck had finally turned around even with a poor starting hand, or even if it hadn't lalo had chosen to hide his annoyance.
soon your conversation turned to wedding planning and all the endless dates, fittings, and projects you were busy with. lalo’s beer was growing a little warmer and the olives in your hand soon diminished.
at the table, the card players were taking sips of their drinks as they bantered. lalo was occasionally glancing at you and ignacio. this wasn't the first, nor would it be the last time ignacio would visit lalo’s mansion. he took notice of your body language, watching as you casually leaned in as you spoke, the way your fingers gripped the drink you should've brought back to him by now, and the way you stood with one hip slightly higher than the other.
“amor,” lalo called halting your conversation with ignacio. “coming back?” he questioned, peeking his head over to you.
you held your finger up to lalo as if a normal person had interrupted you and you needed to excuse yourself. this was no normal person; it was eduardo salamanca.
“it’s scheduled for valentine’s day next year,” you reminded nacho.
“yeah, that's right, lovebirds,” he joked, remembering the bright-colored sketches of the lovebirds on the save-the-date invitation he had received by mail. that intricate and vivid envelope stamped with a lime green seal was now sitting in a pile of odd junk mail next to his whores’ cutting tray.
“amor,” lalo called again, throwing his arms up curiously. he was trying to act casually as if he wasn't feeling pestered by being ignored. you normally would have responded immediately, and yet your eyes were still on the shirtless ignacio attempting to wrap up your conversation.
you gestured lazily back to the card table. “i better get back, but you're welcome to—” you were cut off when you were inviting nacho back to the group.
“amor,” lalo repeated for what he hoped to be the final time, wading through the water closer to the side of the pool near the bar. he knew you could hear him, yet you were trying to be polite to nacho by finishing your conversation.
“give me just a moment, please,” you requested, looking over at lalo directly. you didn't even notice why you shouldn't have said that until it was too late. you were already forcing him to wait, and now, even in your nicest tone, you were not making him your good priority.
“like i said, you're more than welcome to join us again,” you turned back to ignacio as you spoke. he was about to take your offer, standing and refilling his glass with the bottle he had beside him.
lalo was now out of the pool, his arm snugly around your waist. you could feel wet swim trunks pushing against the back of you. he took you into his arms again. he didn't take the offering of his drink. his thumbs were hooked into the band of your bikini again slightly exposing your tan line as he secured his fingers.
“nachito, you keeping my lady to yourself now?” lalo had that iconic smile on his face. anyone who met him would remember it. the one that made his cheeks and mustache lift. the smile that brought out the wrinkles in his eyes. the one you thought loosened his hardened nature. you could feel the lightness in his voice as he spoke.
“she was talking about your wedding,” nacho said as a smirk began to play on the corner of his mouth. “i don't think i could keep up with her like you do.”
ignacio knew how to play. no one had lalo completely figured out, and just as nacho had previously stated, he didn't have lalo figured out, but knowing how to play his game was the way to stay preserved in lalo’s vicious circle.
“i think i’m getting too old because i went with her to the bakery to test the cake and i was winded on the way back to the car,” lalo chuckled. you tried to adjust your stance although your fiancè wasn't allowing you to move. that slight uncomfortably was enough to silence your giggle and feel smaller than you were.
“oh no, you're still kicking it,” nacho brushed off lalo’s comment casually, his eyes glancing back to you. “i don't expect some cake to get in your way.”
“i don't know, some of it might,” lalo teased, moving one of his hands to firmly grasp your ass, giving it a shake.
“if it gets in the way, make her hold it,” nacho jested, though you weren’t unamused.
that was how it always went. everyone wanted to appease lalo even if the joke was at your expense. so, the pleasant conversation you had with ignacio had turned into a bawdy attempt to humor lalo.
lalo took his hand off of your ass extending it to ignacio which he graciously shook.
“i knew i liked you, nachito,” lalo praised, now pointing his finger toward the shorter male. “she’s sure got a lot of it, huh?” he asked, nudging you forward.
ignacio shrugged, holding his hands up in defense. “too much woman for me,” he admitted, giving you a gentle glance. his eyes said enough. he was apologizing without having to say anything. “but the perfect amount for you.”
“don't be modest, nachito, give her a feel,” lalo said, pushing you even closer to ignacio. “i don’t think you're giving yourself enough credit,” he insisted. his arms were crossed over his chest as he watched ignacio.
lalo’s mind games were just a little too intense sometimes. lalo wasn't jealous of ignacio he was jealous of the attention you had given him. he didn't care that ignacio was a muscle pig or closer to your age. lalo had something ignacio didn't—the ability to ignite fear in you. he was able to make you uncomfortable, yet intoxicatingly in love with him in one fell swoop.
“lalo, no, she's your business, not mine,” nacho’s hands were resting by his side, hoping lalo’s prodding would end quickly. that gnat sure did know how to soar high.
they were talking about you like you weren't there. your head looked back to lalo. an uncomfortable pout across your face was met by your fiance’s hand patting your cheek.
“oh, you're telling me this little face is too much for you?” lalo gripped your cheeks turning your head back towards nacho, slightly distorting your face as he turned you back.
“too much and also not mine to try,” he stood firmly on his words.
the moment lalo loosened his fingers you spoke. “bebé, i’m going to see if anyone else needs anything,” you had to pause their conversation for the sake of your own sanity.
“i hired caterers to do that, not for you to serve them hot cervezas y coño⁽ᵇᵉᵉʳˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵘˢˢʸ⁾,” lalo chuckled, placing a kiss on your temple. you looked down at the modelo bottle in your hand with a huff.
“i tried to give it to you while it was cold,” you pushed your sunglasses onto your head. it was clear that the sun had been brutal because even with the application of sun cream there was red resting atop your tanned cheeks. the bridge of your nose had two faint lines etched into it from your glasses.
“did you now?” lalo asked, taking the golden beer bottle from your hand, and holding the neck of the bottle. his thumbs worked to push the shiny foil down and bent the cap back against the side of the patio bar, leaving a permanent scuff in the wood.
he took a quiet drink, his eyes closing, and his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“amor,” lalo paused, scooting the bottle onto the bar. he cleared his throat, taking his sweet time with it.
ignacio had been awkwardly standing there, unsure of what to say or do. his employer’s comments about you had gone from joking to seriously uncomfortable. lalo’s possessiveness over you was nothing new, but unfortunately ignacio, just like you, had become a victim in his new game today.
“this is the worst fuckin’ beer i’ve ever had,” lalo’s face dropped, making your eyes instantly wide. his smile lines were no longer smiling, sitting unhappily at the corners of his mouth. his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.
you pulled your arms to your chest, your lips parting to speak. “i tried to give it to you ten minutes ago when you came to join us,” you shook your head, eyeing the opened bottle on the counter. “that one was colder than the stuff you were sipping on,” you retorted without thinking. “and you've had three of those all of which sat in the sun longer than this one has even been out of the fridge.”
ignacio’s hand raised to try and interject the conversation but was met with lalo’s laughter.
lalo patted the bar stool as he guided you over to sit. his head dipped to lean against your forehead, still chuckling away. you cautiously sat, trying to laugh along with him although finding it hard to see the humor in his joke. nacho was doing the same uncomfortable chortle. lalo really knew how to command a group of people.
“just fuckin’ with you, amorcito,” he smiled, kissing both of your cheeks as he held your face.
lalo placed a drawn-out, over-the-top, lengthy kiss onto your lips. a kiss that no one in their right mind would ever want to be a victim of watching—tongue and all, as lalo tilted your head back, letting his hands wander. ignacio was biting the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't cringe. his eyes darted away multiple times wondering when it would be over. his fingers drummed against his leg and his toes were slightly curled. it was hard to watch. very hard to watch.
lalo pulled away like it was nothing while you sat there a bit stunned and puffy-lipped. your fiancè had gone from perturbed to comical to sultry on a whim. that was probably the most unsettling part about him.
“up for another round of cards?” he questioned nacho, lightly pinching the bit of fat on your side where his tattooed name sat on you. the cursive letters being prodded by his fingers made your mind snap together. that’s when you realized you had fucked up.
you didn't know if it was because the summer heat was unprecedentedly hot, or maybe because you had accidentally skipped lunch, or even if it was because you had one too many seltzers, but when the realization hit that you had ignored him just a few moments prior and now you had sassed him.
anytime he corrected you, even slightly, made your stomach churn. lalo was a man of many faces, but the one he chose when reprimanding you was one you disliked. pinching your side looked affectionate but it was always his sign of saying ‘watch yourself.’
“uh, yeah, another round sounds great,” ignacio had wasted no time beginning his trek back to the table after that mind fuck.
“amor, why don't you go and freshen up then help yolanda with her pozole?” he suggested to you with a gentle smile. another code for ‘get in the fuckin’ bedroom and don't come out.’
the walk back to the bedroom was embarrassing. maybe not for anyone else, but for you it definitely was. your throat was tight and your shoulders were tense.
lalo was calculated and smart, but when it came to you he became stupid and irrational. what man didn’t change when a woman had him wrapped around her finger? although his irrational tendencies with you wouldn't start until the last guest from the party left.
you went from pacing to sitting, knowing it wouldn't do you any good to keep worrying. no matter how much pleading and begging you would do it wouldn't be enough. lalo had made up his mind from the moment the words left your mouth.
you hadn't changed out of the damp swimsuit or even taken your sunglasses off. the most you had done was slide your sandals off, and that was at the front of the house only because you didn't want to be reprimanded again for having yolanda, the housekeeper, doing any extra work.
lalo swung open the door to the bedroom, grabbed his gun off the dresser. your eyes widened, scooching back on the bed. he maneuvered the slide back, efficiently racking the black pistol back and loading a bullet into the chamber. your breath halted, wondering if today was the day that lalo was finally fed up with you, wondering if this would officially be the last moments you spent with him.
he hadn't forgotten a single thing in the two hours he left you to sit and dwell on your actions. he had time to stew and fester. if anything his anger was stronger.
“get up,” he demanded.
however, it wasn't fast enough for his liking because soon he was dragging you by the shoulder and forcing you to the wall.
you shut your eyes as his movement became rougher, the barrel of the gun pressed against your lower back as he guided your legs and feet apart with his armed hand.
his wrist prodded your inner thighs, forcing you to spread further apart. you tried to steady yourself against the wall as you moved your legs apart but were tripped by his brutal enforcement. his unspoken demands were filled with fury just as his spoken ones were.
you were eying him, trying to look over your shoulder. you wanted to read his face. you needed to know if there was more to him than just anger. you wanted to know if your sweet little eyes could give you a glimmer of hope to calm him down.
those sweet little eyes were the same eyes you used when you begged for him on a nightly basis. he was overlooking them—dumb and routine, the same bullshit you always pulled to get your way. not now, he wouldn’t pay any attention to them now.
you hadn’t seen him this way in a while; you hadn’t caused him to be this way in a while. business dealings that went awry, skeevy rats trying to take down the salamancas, lost product, all of that was different, but you, his pretty little toy, had done it. you knew what happened to the others who had interfered, so why wouldn’t you be any different?
that ounce of care—well, mindful attentiveness—that lalo had for you was disregarded at this moment. he didn’t care who you were. he didn’t care about the five years he had spent with you. all of those little times he had remembered letting his guard down around you while you stroked the curled hair on his chest were squandered.
his eyebrows were furrowed together and his forehead wrinkles were prominent. he seemed determined and fueled by his unhinged distrust in you. losing thousands of dollars in a poker game prodded at his agitation, chatting casually with a man he had introduced you to countless times before was enough to irritate him, ignoring him when he spoke provoked him, but you talking back caused him to lose control.
that gun was shoved between your thighs as he held your head against the wall. his slender fingers were laced haphazardly in your hair, gripping at anything he could. he didn’t care about your flinching or attempting to push yourself away from the wall. it was a feeble attempt anyway; lalo had more control over you than you liked in this moment.
“what were you thinking, huh?” his voice lowered, though previously the grip lalo had on your hair only tightened, smushing your cheek further into the rust-colored wall of the bedroom.
“i was—” the barrel of the gun slid across the thin covering of your bikini making your legs tremble. you immediately stopped speaking. how could you speak when lalo was inching his semi-automatic pistol to your entrance? the neon fabric pressed into your hole concealing the cold muzzle.
“no, you weren't thinking,” lalo spat. you recoiled as his be took his hand out of your hair and flicked your temple. “you didn't think at all before you kept talking,” he repeated harshly this time, a bit of spit leaving his mouth from his sharp tongue.
“lalo—” you pleased softly, teary-eyed from being so roughly slammed against the bedroom wall.
“and you still don't know how to shut the hell up,” he ranted, tugging at the knots to the elastic straps on your waist. the bikini bottoms fell. lalo shook them off the barrel of the gun. the front sight was back at your entrance.
“you think it’s cute to do that in front of ignacio?” he asked, tapping the gun against your hole. his other hand was untying the two straps to the bikini top. your breasts fell. the little support they did have in that skimpy top was at least saving some of your modesty.
you didn't say a single word, how could you when he was uncontrollably angry about you speaking?
“i said, do you think it is cute to do that in front of ignacio?” lalo repeated his words slower. his words were condescending.
“i-i don't k—”
he huffed, rolling his eyes. he flicked your temple again. his gun was caressing your inner thighs, prodding slowly at your entrance. he wanted you to be prepared to take it. he couldn't waste you before he fucked it one more time.
“such a dumb little thing, it’s a yes or no question, so use that brain between those empty little eyes and answer me.”
“no,” you mumbled, closing your eyes tightly as if you were waiting on the trigger pull as you felt the gun lift from your lower half.
“so, why the fuck are you talking to me like that?” his hand wrapped around your upper arm, pulling you to face him. he was overlooking your body. the hand he used to adjust your positioning was now holding your face.
“i didn't—”
“oh, you didn't mean to?” lalo interrupted, completing your sentence for you.
you were looking up at him, silently pleading again. looking through your eyelashes at him, your lower lip trembling. you were trying not to break down completely, knowing your tears most definitely wouldn't help.
“didn't mean to,” he repeated with a scoff. he removed his hand from your chin harshly, making your head flick to the side. you faced him again, the guilty expression on your face still evident. you were like a dog with its tail between its legs.
“you didn't mean to,” lalo tsked, having to hear the words come out of his mouth again. “of course you didn't mean to,” lalo was nodding slowly. he adjusted the pistol in his hand, feeling the textured handle. he held it out to you. he had a steady grip on it flipping his hand from one side to the other to present the gun to you.
“amor, what’s in my hand?” he asked, clenching the grip panel and the front strap.
“your gun,” you responded, swallowing hard as he lifted it to your forehead, placing it right between your eyes. you closed your eyes tightly, feeling him push your head back against the wall with the muzzle.
“mhm,” lalo agreed, satisfied with your answer. “look at me when i’m talking to you,” he reminded you. you opened your eyes hesitantly, looking straight ahead. your vision was unfocused due to his hand and pistol blocking most of your view.
“now, do you think i should pull this trigger?” he questioned, prodding your forehead again. a soft thud was heard from the back of your head clicking against the wall.
“no, lalo,” you breathed out. that’s when the tears started to fall. the sniffling came with it.
“don’t start,” lalo groaned, taking his free hand and wiping under each of your eyes as you tried to calm yourself. you tried to stand straight, having to catch yourself as you slouched.
you felt defeated, belittled, and downright humiliated, standing naked in the bedroom you and your fiancè shared knowing your family would be none the wiser if you were alive or dead after this day, not like they had any idea as of now.
“why shouldn't i pull it?” lalo asked, his thumb caressing the grip plate. “and before you answer, make it worth my time, not just because you ‘don't want to die.’” he said mockingly, rolling his eyes. he was already sick of the sniveling.
you took a deep breath, biting your bottom lip trying to collect your thoughts. what would make lalo salamanca have sympathy?
nothing. nothing at all.
you were uneasy trying to find even the smallest amount of something in the brain that lalo always deemed was empty.
“because i live for you,” you mumbled, exhaling as you felt a bit of pressure being taken off your forehead. he lifted your chin with the barrel of his gun, looking you directly in the eyes. the tears started again, though your sniffling was contained by your body occasionally doing small jerks so you wouldn't outwardly cry.
you weren't completely wrong. you did live for him—well, because of him anyway. he had spared your life, taken you in, and trained you accordingly. you were going to get married to him because he asked you to do it. you had everything because of him.
lalo made a soft fawning noise, wiping your tears again. “you came up with that all by yourself, amor? maybe there is some potential still left in that hollow little head.”
he leaned his forehead down, placing it on yours, closing his eyes. “now, tell me now how stupid you think i am to believe it,” he gave a smug smile, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. a quick peck that only lasted a second but that left a lingering flutter between the both of you.
you never understood how he could go from making you terrified to wanting him. he had you wrapped around his finger and able to control your every whim.
useless, mortified, deflated—no matter what bad lalo brought upon you he always managed to easily weasel his way into what he wanted, and in this moment he wanted you.
“i don't think you’re stupid.”
“see, if you could've been this well-behaved earlier i wouldn't have to be so rough with you, amor, but you can't ever just make things easy for me.” lalo lectured. he pulled the gun away from your chin, letting it fall. he tapped the barrel against his lips, the muzzle brushing against his mustache. “now, get on your knees like you do for me.”
you cautiously got down. execution-style seemed a little excessive for talking out of place, but lalo had his cynical methods. your hands quivered in your lap as his thumb guided your mouth open.
instinctively your mouth fell into position, nice and slack, as lalo’s amusement only grew larger. in a demented little way, he liked how fearful you were. he liked the way the anticipation was causing faint perspiration to lay across your neck and forehead.
he placed the tip of the gun into your mouth. a wincing could be seen in your eyes as he brought the barrel further into your mouth, not that you couldn't take it, but he was testing you seeing if you'd move from the position he had requested. you wanted to move your head as your entire body started to rattle again.
he patted your cheek with his free hand signifying you to close your mouth. you had been in this position many times before, though instead of sucking the head of a gun you were wrapped around the head of his cock.
the metallic taste of the heckler and koch was enough to make you gag on the spot. lalo didn't care, nor did he stop until your bottom lip was pressing into the trigger guard. his index finger was stroking the trigger.
“not wanting to say anything now?” he jabbed the gun further, though his index finger now laid to the side of the trigger. it made you flinch, thinking even with his hand pulled away from the trigger it would cause the bullet to come speeding through the chamber. you slouched slightly, earning a sharp nudge with his foot, correcting your unsuitable posture.
you couldn't say anything, not that you wanted to, knowing it would result in a swift slap or even worse him actually pulling that trigger. you knew you couldn't test his patience anymore because the game he was playing was only for his benefit, not to give you more time to live.
he started slowly working the barrel in your mouth, as I'd trying to find the right fit as he repeated his repetitive in and out motion. this free hand was now stabilizing your head, gripping the mess he had made with it earlier.
it was nowhere near as satisfying as the fit of his thick girth in your mouth, but even he couldn't deny that he had created an image that would haunt his brain—shit, it would rewire it for the better. his slack-mouthed bitch taking his gun so well. making the steel so slick and pretty, somehow even better than he ever did when cleaning it.
“take it, amor,” lalo berated, as he became rougher with his movements. the clunky metal entering further, the trigger guard forcefully spurring into your bottom lip, the only cushion and protection for your bottom teeth. a soft whimper was escaping your lips and his hand was forcing more of a connection of your mouth to the gun. “fucking take it while you can.”
he was fucking your mouth good, the kind that made the saliva pool into your lap and run into the cracks of your neatly placed, but quivering hands.
his cock in his pants slightly twitching as he watched with interest, letting your mouth satisfy that odd urge inside of himself. you noticed it too, his well-endowed member increasingly becoming more excited as you were only more dehumanized by his words.
“see, this is what you're meant for, listening,” he huffed, trying to reiterate the fact that other than being his little toy you were useless. his began to get overzealous with his armed carry, knocking the front sight against the bottom of your top teeth. you tried to extend your jaw more without parting your lips, but the raised sight kept scraping the bottom.
“listening and not showing your ass out in front of the men that work for me,” lalo added, shoving the pistol harder. your eyes closed for a brief second as you winced from the sight chipping the slightest bit out of your top tooth. you could feel the tiny white fragment floating in your mouth. lalo felt part of your tooth give way, taking his firearm out of your mouth.
“let’s see what i broke this time,” the annoyance was evident in his tone as you looked up at him further so he could inspect your tooth. he wasn't checking because he cared, mostly because he wanted to see the damage he inflicted.
he unlaced his hold from your hair, tugging it as he tried to flick the few loose strands from it. his thumb felt the top portion of your teeth. it was barely noticeable, though enough for lalo to find and inspect the fragment he pulled out of your mouth. he then caressed the forming bruise right below your bottom lip from the trigger guard being rammed into your face.
he rolled his eyes, flicking the chipped portion of your tooth away, a small click signifying it had hit the hardwood somewhere else in the room.
“get on the fuckin’ bed ass up, so i don't have to see that shit.”
lalo wasted no time getting behind your naked body. his gun placed on the duet as two of his slender fingers buried themselves in your slick arousal.
“and you see that?” he pulled his fingers out harshly, holding them in front of your face. “about to blow your fuckin’ head off and you get goddamn wet.”
he was taunting you still, and yet you had no excuse for your overly stimulated cunt producing ungodly amounts of wetness. he was right. he was always right. the sheer dominance alone was only partially the reason behind your body’s reaction to him.
he tugged down his swim trunks, letting them grace his ankles. you were glancing over your shoulder seeing very little at the angle you were in. you wanted to, like the little whore for lalo you were, you wanted to see what you were pleasuring. you had an imprinted metal image of his large veiny cock, but you would be lying if you weren't excited to see it every time he dropped his pants.
he let out a low whistle as he gathered more of your wet slick onto his fingers and began to slowly jack off his length. you were trying to turn your head, feeling a painful ache in your neck as you craned too far back.
he knew working his own hand up and down his shaft was killing you. god, he had just let your mouth get fucked by his pistol rather than the deadly snake in his pants.
his pinky and ring finger were guiding the majority of his length as his thumb stroked his tip. your wetness was aiding him, but he could tell you were becoming restless. your knees were padding into the bed and your fingers were fidgeting with the duvet.
every time he went back for more of your sweet wetness you were trying to push back on his fingers trying to entice him into leaving them for a moment longer.
you could feel the handgun nudging your knee as it slid closer each time the bed even slightly rattled from movement. that was a quick reminder that you still weren't safe, but somehow, without lalo immediately sticking his dick in you was more torturous than having a gun to your head.
“you can't expect me to want to fuck you after you didn't listen,” he scoffed, nudging you forward keeping your hips in line with your knees. your head dropped down, your nose nuzzling into the sheets.
“you aren't worth a nut if you have some piss-poor attitude attached to you,” he stuck his fingers inside of you again, curling them ever so slightly this time. a soft moan left your lips.
he placed his hand back on his solid cock, working the arousal up and down. “but you don't care. you know i give you whatever the hell you want,” he ranted, placing his free hand on your ass to spread your cheeks further apart for a better view of your slick cunt.
“that’s why i have to act like such an asshole right now because you started expecting things without asking for them.”
his fingers were soon back inside of you as he rambled. “i’m fed up with you treating me like i owe you something.” lalo moved closer you could feel his knuckles begin to graze your skin as he worked your arousal around his cock.
his words were loaded and ridiculous, but you couldn't help but utter the smallest apology. his head slightly tilted as he heard it, stopping the jerking of his hand and pulling your hips even closer. you could feel his shaft against your backside.
“dear fucking god, that’s worse than you crying, amor,” he complained, prodding his dick forward against your wet hole. “some shitty little apology?” he exhaled. “i’m gonna have to use all your little holes to make up for this.”
you were gnawing lightly on the interior of your cheek in anticipation. he was giving in to what you wanted even if that meant giving a little extra.
he ran his clean hand through his salt and peppered hair, dragging it down his chest, and positioning his cock right at your entrance, giving not an ounce of mercy as he pushed his girthy cock into your desperate cunt.
“oh—” you couldn't fully formulate the rest of the words you wanted to say. your breath halted as your muffled gasp hit the duvet.
that tight grip you had on him was enough for him to understand why he kept you around for so long. your pussy was flawless to him; it was the one thing he never had to correct—the one thing he never wanted to correct.
he had one knee propped up guiding you back slightly so his entire length would be sheathed in that gorgeous cunt of yours. his hand had released from spreading your ass and instead guiding your stomach back pinching the soft pudge as he adjusted to the warm hold you were providing him with.
your manicured nails dug into the bed, as he began driving his cock into you. you couldn't understand why it was so satisfying, having him take complete and utter control over your body. he easily made you fall apart with the pleasure he delivered.
lalo’s mouth was slightly agape as he watched the jiggle your ass as he rammed into you. even though he was always reluctant to admit it he was wrapped around your finger and that was mostly due to the sweet pussy you brought into the relationship.
“hold that ass for me,” he demanded, adjusting the positioning of your hips as your hands became situated, around your ass cheeks.
you moved your neck uncomfortably, having to dig your shoulders further into the bed in an attempt to keep yourself in a stable position without falling.
the way you opened up for him was divine. full spread, displaying your holes, one clutching his length as he continued to thrust into you. your ass hole twitched as he kept fucking you.
your face was almost fully buried, smelling the breath from your fruity seltzers being recycled to your nose alongside the gentle cotton-scented washing detergent from the bedding.
he was stretching you just right, just how you needed. the urge of sexual desire was so strong that he forced you to wait as he played with himself.
your erect nipples were being stimulated as his rough thrusts moved your body against the bed. your hands were desperately trying to keep to their instructed place so lalo could watch himself inside of you.
you were enjoying yourself a little more than you should've been, even lalo didn't mind. those sweet whiny moans meant he was fucking you the right way—his preferred way.
the gun that was lingering to the side of your leg was not only pressing onto you but on lalo. he was looking at the black steel, an idea surfacing—or adding to the idea he already had.
lalo slowed his rough movements, leaning his head down, a heap of spit landing on your back door. he made quick work with his thumb, plunging it into the clenched sphincter. this wasn't the first time lalo had decided to use all of your body, but dear god, each time he did you needed to refocus because it always took you by surprise even if he announced his arrival.
a rigid pant left your body, glancing back at him picking up the gun was enough to incite another panic as he lazily fingered your ass with his opposable digit. he was focused and determined to make his pistol fit. his brows were slightly furrowed as he acclimated your ass to his finger again. he figured if you had taken his cock then you were more than capable of taking just the first few inches of the gun’s barrel just as your mouth had.
lalo was liberal with his spit; he wanted his idea to be executed correctly.
he stroked the barrel of the gun with his lubricated hand and began edging it into your ass hole. his dick was throbbing inside of your cunt. your nails dug into your ass cheeks as the handgun entered you. it was upside down to keep the area he wanted to later thrust into clear and available.
“taking that even better than my cock,” he muttered, watching your skin expand around the tepid steel. what did he expect? you had to be good at something to have stayed with him for this long.
his head dipped as your ass fully accepted the barrel of the gun. your eyes rolled to the back of your head. your under eyelid twitched. you felt so incredibly stuffed.
lalo’s hand supported the semi-automatic pistol in your ass as his unsatisfied cock began moving again. he had no concept of ‘this might be too much.’
his hips were pressed into yours with each thrust he gave as if it was incomplete without being completely inside of you with each movement. it was hard for him to hold back with you. you were just so goddamn easy for him to push around; which was, of course, all due to his dutiful training and development he put you through.
being in his mid-forties didn't slow him down. if anything it made him more relentless, trying to prove himself. his body may have more years on it than yours, but even with that being the case he knew his purpose with you at all times.
“so fuckin’ tight, that little pussy has some grab,” he praised from behind you. the hand on the gun occasionally pushed in further, keeping his hand firmly on the handle. his other hand supported one of your wrists in keeping your ass spread.
the wet squelching noises he was creating just from being deep in your walls made his head tilt back. beads of sweat leaked from his face from the sheer amount of effort he was exerting.
your noises of pleasure were covering his own low groans of enjoyment. he was angry, yet still praising you for your sexy body even if it meant he was calling you dumb for only being able to use your body to make him happy. you didn't care, how could you? not when you had a thick length inside of you—his first favorite toy, and then being plugged with his second favorite toy—his gun.
dear god. he had it all the right way. hitting exactly what he needed when he needed to. you knew your body better than you knew it yourself. you were at lalo’s mercy, letting him ravage your pussy and ass as he wanted.
he was so deep inside of you, and your pussy allowed it, swallowing his girthy cock like a fine wine as he forced himself in until he was banging against your cervix.
the vaginal penetration alone was enough to make your mind too dumb, but the more he gave made you go null. so much overwhelming stimuli that caused dribbles of squirt to coat his cock and drop down to the pristine bedding.
“b-bebé,” you sputtered out, almost ignored because the sheets that had become bundled in your mouth muffled your noise. you were unwinding right before him, becoming so tense right before your orgasmic release, unknowing if he would even allow it after your spell of insolence. “p-please, c-come on please,” you managed to plead from your befuddled state.
lalo didn't have much more self-control left in himself either. he kept having to distract himself from the sight below him.
“fuck, let it go, amor,” he agreed as the hand on your wrist bared down harshly.
your back sweat glistened in the natural room lighting, the setting sun only warming the bedroom as it filtered through the windows. lalo’s long shadow casts over you, essentially ramming into you twice.
your eyes closed, having to lift your head just to breathe through your orgasm. a ridiculous noise between a scream and a whine filled the room as you pushed your ass back against him, taking a bit more of the clunky gun and stimulating more of lalo’s cock.
“stay just like that,” he demanded, as his rigid thrusts were coming to a sloppy end. you were riding on a high that was finally seeming to subside, though the aftermath caused your eyes to be droopy and low, stuttery moans to exit as his actions quickened in pace. he was chasing the end, although he would never deny being inside of you longer but he wanted to release.
with your hips and ass causing a pleasurable resistance, lalo drove himself to his climax, his chest pounding and the tops of his ears flushing red. he unloaded inside of you, not needing permission to release his cum in someone he already owned.
he hung inside of you for a few moments, having his eyes adjust to the scene before him as he removed his cock, watching his load spill from your puffy walls. he pulled the gun out slowly, watching your ass hole pucker again. he rubbed your anus softly, watching it clench as your pussy dripped more of his load.
gun in hand he turned you to his side, leaning next to you. he dragged the gun across your chest, prodding your nipples teasingly. you could barely move your arm enough to try and protect your sensitive chest.
he brushed some of your hair back with the pistol as he made himself comfortable next to your limp body.
lalo laid back, placing the gun to your temple. he turned on his side, holding your face so you would focus only on him. your eyes were still hazy, you could barely move, and you were waiting now since he had his fill. you thought lalo’s antics were so incredibly deranged—having seen you orgasm once more, the way he said you looked prettiest, and now was going to end you on the sleek white sheets from charlotte thomas.
his dark brown eyes were fixated on you, as you held the button placket of his pool shirt. he didn't have remorse for what he did. he had fun, though you couldn't read it on his face. you were waiting for him to lay your head down and fire.
at this point when he would allow the bullet to discharge, at least you would be relaxed, halfway buried in his chest in the comfortable bedding.
“if i wanted to kill you i would've done it already.” he tapped the gun’s muzzle against your head. “would've had that pretty little head splattered against that wall.” he gestured with the pistol to the wall he had previously slammed you against.
he gave a low chuckle, pushing the gun on the bedside table, grabbing your face. “just remember that, amor—remember that i can make that decision.”
lalo placed a kiss on your lips. your barely responsive body uttered a peck back to him in understanding his words.
The babies are finally down, and one of your girls is distracted by a cartoon in the living room. You, for the first time all day, are unneeded.
You are unneeded long enough to rinse out bottles and stand in one place without little voices calling you mamá, mamá, mamá.
Just enough to remember when you couldn’t ever believe you’d be needed like this.
You think about this in the five minutes you’ve stolen for yourself, that there was once a world where you couldn’t imagine being…this, but now you’re swollen with a big belly because there’s another baby who’s decided it needs every inch of you to grow. So, what’s the point of hindsight?
Is there any point in looking back on the past?
You make your way to the kitchen, made of amber light and the sound of crickets outside, to throw out some old fruit that everyone was too picky to eat, but when you do, you notice one of the drawers is open.
And when you turn, you see the reason for it being open at the far end of the island, small and knobby-kneed with hair full and dark like Lalo’s.
Your son is holding one of his father’s paring knives, and like his papa, he’s not eager to wave it around. Well, Lalo will do that for his men sometimes, but not in the dark. Unlike what you’d imagine from a wild boy, he’s not playing swords in a way that would make you yell at him in a motherly panic you don’t remember growing.
You guess it grew alongside your babies. It came with their toes.
…But it’s like your son is just holding it to test its weight.
You don’t know why you think your heart picks up faster with fired nerves at your palms, worse than it would if he were playing with it. But you cannot speak for a summer-warm moment.
“Baby, what are you doing?”
He looks up at you, barely startled. He’s almost thoughtful while sitting on the barstool, his knees knocking against the cabinet.
“I’m looking.”
You swallow. You’re too aware of the muscles of your throat. Every other muscle feels separate from you and just as overaware.
“At what? The knife?”
“I’m looking at its point.”
The need for one hand to hold the other is instant as the static that washes over your pulse. You keep your eyes on his small hands. On the blade.
On the way his fingers are much too close to the edge.
No. No. He’s just—he’s just too young to not understand how quickly metal can punish his curiosity. Well…you learned at a young age, but it’s your responsibility that he doesn’t.
“Okay,” you walk with soft steps toward your son. “I need you to hand that to me now, sweetheart.”
You don’t like how your skin prickles at the way he looks down at it again. He’s very reluctant. That…that’s okay. He’s just a boy.
“I know how to use it.”
“I know you think you do, but—
“No.” He glances up. You think he’s offended at your claim. “Papa showed me once.”
…Well, of course, Lalo did.
You want to ask your son if he means that Papa taught him as a lesson. If there was any formality to it. Maybe Lalo taught him how to handle sharp things, and that they’re not toys, and that he’s just a boy who decides not to listen.
For the sake of your body that you’re sharing with a baby that you hope looks like their papa, that’s what you’ll believe.
You force yourself to crouch to his boy’s eye level.
“Even if you know how, you are not supposed to touch knives without Papa or me.”
He blinks.
“I need one.”
He says it very quietly, unlike the heartbeat that’s sounding out in your eardrums.
“Why?”
He shrugs.
“In case somebody hurts you. If somebody makes you cry or yells at you. I’ll kill them.”
…He says it so simply. Matter-of-factly.
You almost say what? What the hell do you mean, baby? Where does this come from?
But the word would only be for you, not for him. He knows what he said.And you know where this is coming from.
You’re heavy with the answer. Both in your heart and your stomach.
It’s in his dark eyes, too serious for his age.
“No,” You try to sound firm. “You do not ever hurt somebody for me.”
Your hands find your son’s knees because if you don’t touch him, you might drift out of your own body. You can see other things swim in his eyes, you think shock from where he expected praise.
“I’m s’posed to protect you. Papa would.”
“Papa is a grown man…and—and even Papa…”
You think this is the first time you’ve ever truly lied to your son. You feel sick at the idea. You’ll blame it on the baby inside you.
“He doesn’t get to decide who lives or dies because someone hurts me.”
What he’s telling you, they’re only echoes made out of things overhead, Lalo speaking through him. The knife is not a game. You wish it was.
Lalo decides everything, and he’s decides how he exists in his son. In miniature. With a soft-pitched love.
What are you supposed to do with that, except grieve?
…Grieve over how you don’t feel the need to. Don’t lie about that, but maybe don’t say it outloud.
“You are supposed to be a little boy.”
He frowns, hurt. You’ve hurt him. Why is necessary hurt apart of motherhood? At least you know why you only learn that it is as a mother.
“I’m not little.”
“You are to me.”
“No.” Your son’s mouth trembles. “I’m strong. I’ll kill anyone who hurts you. Papa will let me.”
You make a soft sound when he throws himself into your arms. He’s only warm, tiny limbs as you try to hold him tight. He presses his face into your neck.
“I’ll want to even without the knife. I’ll find a way!”
The hot pain in your stomach is the result of the first thought that comes to mind of what your son cries out against you.
…Your papa found a way with my papa. How are you so much like him? Why can I not bring myself to keen over this?
“...You don’t have, baby. Please. Don’t. Don’t for Mamá.”
𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 - 𝐥. 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐚 (𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟; +𝟏𝟖) | repost of an old fic about a man who could do whatever he wants to me. lalo salamanca is never down or out in my heart–just resting and waiting to be awakened once again. if u need more lalo fics, run over to @richeeduvie. ur life will change, i swearrrr. @fuzzy bby this one is for u! word count is arnd 1.0k
warnings include fem!reader, language, a shitty boss, crying, violence (implied; not towards the reader), pretty tame considering lol
He knows something is… off.
It’s in your smile. For the past hour, you’ve been faking it. Something you never do with him, because it’s Lalo. You don’t pretend with him, not that he’d let you.
“What’s wrong, pretty? Hm? Tell Lalo what’s wrong with his sweet estrella pequeña.”
Lalo’s keenly aware that it’s so hard for you not to squirm when he looks at you like this. So intensely. So pointedly that it almost hurts. He sees right through you as if you’re a piece of glass. His piece of glass, a beautiful personification of sand, soda ash, and limestone, burned and melted by the heat of his relentless passion and molded into whatever he wanted.
“Nothing.”
“I can’t hear you, niña,” Lalo quirks up an eyebrow, tapping his finger to boop your nose. You have a cute nose. And cute lips. And a cute face.
“Nothing’s wrong, Lalo. Just tired.”
Mm. Your lips are still cute even when you’re lying.
Lalo sucks his teeth. The hand that booped your nose moves to the back of your head, and he’s really looking at you now. Through his eyelashes, with his mustache and mouth a hard line. No smile. No laughs. Just looking.
“Try. Again.”
“My boss. He was just being a little meaner than usual today, that’s all.”
That’s all? Someone–some waste of life, a hombrecito estúpido–was mean to you, and the only thing you say is that’s all?
“Mean how?” The question is short and sharp. Harder than he usually speaks around you, but he can’t help it. His jaw sets tight after he asks, and you feel the hand behind you squeeze into a tight fist. When you don’t answer quick enough for his liking, always so slow his girl is, he grabs your chin and forces you to look into his eyes. “Mean how?”
You shuffle before answering. He doesn’t let you look away when you speak.
“I don’t know-“
What’s with all the lying today? Damn, you really are in an off mood.
“Yes, you do, so tell me. Now.”
Your mouth and eyes shut as soon as you feel the moisture well up. A huff leaves you because you should’ve known that the blubbering you did during the drive wasn’t enough to get all the tears out.
Lalo tilts his head and just stares. His eyes are dark, teeth finally unclenching. A quick sigh blows from his lips, and he pushes the rage running through every one of his nerves to pull you into his chest.
You melt into him instantly, so quick that it almost catches him off guard. A short, humorless chuckle gets stuck in his throat. He squeezes you, fingers rubbing tenderly across your shoulder blades. He feels your hands bunch the back of his shirt and squeezes even tighter. Both of you, holding on for dear life.
You’re really crying now, and shaking, too. Dios mio, what did this rat do to make his sweet, little star like this?
Part of him wants you to tell him. For your sake. Just to get it out because he can feel how tense it’s making you. Additionally, for himself. So he can figure out when, where, and how he’s going to make the guy pay.
Not apologize. Pay. Well, no. First, an apology. Then pay. Then he’ll take you out for an ice cream or something like that. Or to that corner store you love with the, what is it? Some little candies you can only get at that particular place. Just–whatever you wanna do. Whatever will make his girl smile and forget that your rat boss exists.
Because soon, he won’t. Lalo knows it’d be smarter to get someone else to do it (did someone say Nacho?), but you make him–and he can’t believe he’s saying this–stupid.
Lalo hums from somewhere deep inside his chest. Little shushes pepper out when he feels you hiccup against him.
“It’s alright, my girl,” he promises lowly, rocking you back and forth. Jeez, he’s getting soft. “It’s gonna be alright, okay? I’m gonna make it alright, just need you to stop crying and tell me what happened. So I can make it better.”
It takes you a good five minutes to collect yourself, and even then, your breath catches a few times.
“H-he was just being mean,” you start softly, watery eyes trained somewhere on Lalo. Your vision is too blurry to figure out where. “He said that I should be ashamed of myself because I let someone walk out without all of their bags. At first, I thought he was kidding and started laughing. But he wasn’t, and I tried to explain that it was an accident, but he wouldn’t listen. Then he got upset again and yelled at me in the back room after a customer told him that I gave them the wrong change and that I don’t pay attention. Even though I didn’t give him the wrong change, the guy–the customer–just counted his money wrong, and blamed it on me–”
“Breathe, estrallita. Breathe,” Lalo orders, cutting off your messy rant. He needs you to breathe because he isn’t. His lungs are stopped and frozen in hot anger. He can barely see you through the red blinding his stare, voice low and steady despite the way his insides twist.
For now, Lalo waits. You’ll tell him the rest later–he’ll make sure of it–but first he needs you to calm down. A bath should help. With bubbles. It’ll get you to stop crying, and he gets to see you naked? Score.
He’ll sit on the edge of the tub and rub you down with suds. All while you close your eyes and rest and breathe. No stupid customers. No dirty groceries. In fact, Lalo doesn’t think you’ll ever walk back in there again. He’ll make sure to tell your boss, that sad sack hijo de puta, right before he skins him alive.
Sure, he’s soft. But not soft enough to stop himself from going after your boss. Risky, maybe, but then again…
𖤐 summary: Jesse Pinkman’s NFSW alphabet. MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT.
𖤐 word count: 1, 312
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𖤐 A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
• Jesse isn't the best at aftercare, but he tries.
• If you look particularly exhausted and when Jesse's sober, he'll pull you into his chest while playing with your hair and whispering compliments.
• Sometimes, he'll grab a towel to clean you up and then, lay down next to you and start to talk about anything and everything.
• But if he's high or emotionally numb, he might pull away fast, light a cigarette, or just curl up silently.
• He craves affection but doesn't always know how to ask.
𖤐 B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
• On himself: his arms and hands. He likes how they look when he's holding you and he knows how to use his hands.
• On you: your lips and hips. He stares at mouths a lot when people talk and he's OBSESSED with gripping your hips during sex.
• He also lowkey loves your thighs, especially when they're squeezing around his head when he eats you out.
𖤐 C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
• He likes finishing inside you, it makes him feel connected and wanted and he's always fascinated watching it drip out of you afterwards.
• If that's not possible, then on your stomach or thighs. He's low-key into messy finishes, especially if it's been a while.
• Seeing it gets him going again sometimes.
𖤐 D = Dirty Secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
• Sometimes, he jerks off with your panties when you leave them behind. He kinda likes how the fabric feels around his cock and the smell of it. It reminds him of you and that is the biggest turn on ever.
• He's also been into watching porn that borders on degradation because it reflects how little he values himself sometimes. :/
𖤐 E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
• He's clearly very experienced but never really learned how to have great sex until you.
• Most of his past partners were one-night stands or girls who didn't expect much, so he was mostly about getting himself off. But with you, he learned to pay more attention to what you want.
• He's way better than he thinks he is.
𖤐 F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying)
• Doggy when he's rough or angry.
•Missionary when he's emotional and clinging.
• He loves face-to-face sex when he's in love, his eyes always search yours, needing that connection.
• But he also enjoys when you ride him because he loves watching you move. He'll get lazy and let you do all the work sometimes and he's surely not complaining about it. xD
𖤐 G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
• Jesse is definitely the kind of guy to crack jokes mid-sex, especially if something awkward happens.
• He's playful, teases a lot, and makes stupid comments like, "Damn, you tryna kill me?" when you do something particularly good.
•But when he's really into it, he gets lost in the moment and gives up the humor.
• He jokes more before and after than during.
𖤐 H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
• Barely grooms.
• He trims occasionally when he remembers, but doesn't obsess over it.
• His happy trail is definitely there and his pubes are light brown, matching his natural hair color.
• He doesn't mind if you want him shaved tho, he'll do it if you ask.
𖤐 I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
• He craves it but is scared of it.
• During sex, if he feels safe, he's touchy, whispery and full of raw need. He'll hold your face, kiss you like it's the last time and beg you to stay even if he never says it out loud.
𖤐 J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)
• He does it often, especially when stressed or can't sleep.
• Sometimes while high, sometimes just to numb himself.
• He does it lazily in bed or sometimes in the shower and almost always think of you.
• If you send him a nude, oh boy, he'll absolutely take care of himself right then and there.
𖤐 K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
• Praise kink (giving and receiving), exhibitionism (he loves risky spots), a subtle degradation kink (being called names, especially if he’s feeling low, and calling you name) and rough sex with emotional undertones.
• He also loves being marked, scratches, hickeys, anything that proves he’s wanted.
𖤐 L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
• Anywhere that feels wrong.
• Bathrooms at parties, cars, stairwells, back alleys...
• But he also loves his bed when he's in a real connection, because it feels like safety he never had.
𖤐 M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
• Touch. If you touch his hair, neck, or inner thigh, he's ready.
• Also: being teased. You teasing him is the easiest way to get him going. If you whisper something dirty in his ear, he's instantly turned on.
• Also, if you're wearing a pair of lingerie or one of his oversized shirts, it's over for him.
𖤐 N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
• Anything that feels non-consensual or violent in a truly aggressive way.
• He's not into hurting others (emotionally or physically) and he avoids any kink that resembles abuse. Safe words are sacred to him.
• Also, anything involving your feet ? Yeah, nah. Not his thing. Feet are gross.
𖤐 O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
• Jesse loves both giving and receiving.
• He's pretty good with his tongue, especially after getting more practice with you.
• He enjoys going down on you, but he prefers getting head tbh, especially when you're messy about it.
• The sloppier, the better (and don’t forget to look at him in the eyes while doing it, hehe.)
𖤐 P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
• Usually fast and desperate, like he's got something to prove or like he might lose it if he doesn't act fast.
• But when he's really in it emotionally or when you want something more intimate, he can go slow and deep.
• When he's really desperate for it tho, he's almost animalistic.
𖤐 Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
• YES, YES, YES AND YES. They feed his impulsive nature and make him feel wanted on the fly.
• He'll happily do it in a car, a hallway, even at a party if there's a locked door.
• He likes the excitement of fast, sneaky sex, especially if there's a chance to get caught.
• Doesn't need full nudity, he'll just move clothes aside and go
𖤐 R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
• High risk-taker.
• He's down for trying new things as long as it's not too weird.
• Knowing that someone could see you ? A total turn on.
𖤐 S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
• Depends on his mental state.
• When he's sober, he can go for two solid rounds, maybe three if he's extra horny or feeling extra good.
• But if he's high, he might get tired earlier and sleep hard after.
𖤐 T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
• Curious, not super familiar.
• He doesn't own any for himself, but if you pull out a vibrator, he'll absolutely use it on you.
• He likes watching you squirm from it.
• He's a little jealous of toys tho, like, "fuck, am I not enough for you?"
𖤐 U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
• Oh, he can be a teasing little shit.
• He'll grind without thrusting, hold you just on the edge, talk dirty in your ear just to see you squirm.
• But he hates being teased back: he gets too needy too fast.
𖤐 V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
• Loud.
• Moans, whimpers, groans, cursing, heavy breathing… Jesse talks during sex: "fuck, yeah," "you feel so good," "don't stop, “y/n..”.
• He doesn't hold back and can get real loud if he's real into it
𖤐 W = Wild Card (a random headcanon for the character)
• Jesse has definitely filmed you before with your consent.
• Nothing super professional, just short clips of you riding him or sucking him off.
• He keeps them on his phone for personal use and loves watching them when he's alone.
𖤐 X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
• Lean, toned from running and going at the gym.
• Some scars here and there.
• He's slightly longer than average (6 inches), uncut and more curved upward but he's not super thick.
• His tip is a little darker than the rest of him
𖤐 Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
• Jesse's sex drive is pretty high.
•If you're around, he's usually down whenever, wherever.
• If he goes more than a few days without sex, he gets extra needy and might jerk off.
𖤐 Z= Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
• Passes out FAST when it happens at night, especially if the sex was intense or emotional.
• If he doesn't pass out immediately, he'll mumble something half-asleep, roll over, light a cigarette, and lay down next to you.
• But, if the sex happens when you just woke up or during the afternoon, he will just stay next to you, eyes half closed and he will keep cuddling you as lonely as he can before having to go back to your businesses.
warnings: smut, age-gap (20s & 40s), daddy kink, rough sex, roadside sex, Lalo is pissed, reader is a brat
Papi.
You had teasingly called him the name. You weren’t sure what reaction you’d get from him, but certainly not this. Maybe he’d chuckle, his moustache curling into a smirk as he shook his head, or maybe he’d berate you or give you a funny look that told you he disapproved.
I mean, it’s not like you were the only one that thought the nickname fit. In fact countless people had assumed he was old enough to be your father. Someone aged and weathered like him, silver streak in his hair front and center with you by his side. Young, supple, cheeks round and big sweet doe eyes. What else were they supposed to assume? He looked like he could be your father, easily. Plain and simple.
Well now your papi had you bent over the shiny hood of his 1970 Monte Carlo, your cheek squished against it and getting real acquainted with the paint job. The car creaked with the force of his hips meeting your ass.
You didn’t know where you were. You couldn’t really care either. You just hoped you were far enough out of town that there wouldn’t be any unwanted witnesses. The last thing they’d ever see would be you getting your pussy wrecked if Lalo noticed them.
You could tell he’d had a real shitty day, even before you went and pushed his buttons. Since this morning his moustache was pressed into a stern line and his brows were creased, accentuating his fine wrinkles. Now he had to set you back in line.
You reach up to grip the back of his greying hair, but his hand follows yours quickly and yanks it away. He slaps it back down onto the hood where you were shakily bracing yourself.
“No, bobo. Don’t touch my fucking hair.”
His voice was low and serious. Lalo had somewhere to be after this. Important people to meet with. Phone calls to make. You were already wasting his precious time, he wasn’t going to spend a second redoing his hair because of you.
“Mmsorry papi!”
A pathetic excuse for an apology rolls off your lolling tongue. Lalo was deep, the feeling of him kissing your cervix combined with the metal of his car digging into your bare hips.
His thrusts stutter at hearing the nickname again. You were really playing with fire here, using the nickname again so brazenly. Lalo grunts and pauses balls-deep in your cunt.
Your pretty manicured nails were starting to dig into his paintjob. Can’t have that.
He wrenches your arms behind your back with an angry and impatient scoff, earning a squeal from you. It ached in that position, but the pain was soon washed out by his cock slamming wildly back into you.
He switched both of your arms into one of his large hands, the other snaking up and pulling your hair back so hard your head came up off of the hood.
You screamed into the pink and orange Albuquerque sky, eyes rolling back as his hips clapped against your ass unceasing. A dry and humorless chuckle left Lalo. You could tell he wasn’t smiling though.
“No sabes lo que haces, chica estúpida.”
You moaned stupidly at his Spanish, tightening up around him. He kept using the grip on your arms as leverage to fuck your harder. Now your drool was pooling underneath you.
If this was supposed to be a punishment of some sort, then well, it wasn’t really working as he intended.
You’ll learn nothing from this and Lalo knows it. If anything it probably encouraged you more…
warnings: ALL SMUT, choking, hitting and alll of that.
You’re his favourite midnight snack, a guilty pleasure he just can’t stay away from even if he tried.
The sheets aren’t dirty yet but they already feel tainted by the impurity of your current meeting with Nacho. He’s unusually stressed, he always is to some degree when he calls you. He sounded aggressive, demanding over the phone, like he wasn’t asking you to come the crappy hotel you now sat in; he would make you either way and frankly, his control over you turned you on. The role of a controversially young fucktoy is simple, attend to your master’s needs when he asks you to and don’t tell a soul. The secrecy of your role didn’t have a clear reason to you, Nacho was a man of few words (well, clean ones anyways) so he had never explained fully. You could only assume, that outside the bedroom he was a man of high standing somewhere, somehow.
His favourite game to play when the two of you were together was to make you sit bare on the bed beneath him, with him staring down at you, not a single touch exchanged from either party. Watching you squirm under the intensity of his gaze was the hottest thing to him, it got him rock hard every time. However, judging from his demeanour, tonight wasn’t a silent tension type of night. He needed you- fast and hard.
As soon as your ass hit the bed, he charged towards you, strained bulge in his pants almost directly against your face.
“Don’t look at me, get it out.”
Rushing to action, you tore down the coarse zipper of his pants, pulling them down his pronounced hip bones, then freeing his cock from his boxers. You had always thought it was the prettiest dick you had ever seen, tanner than the rest of his body, about six and a half inches, uncut with large pronounced veins running from the hilt, nestled in a tidied bed of dark hairs. Before you could take a moment to admire it, he began pushing your mouth open with his large, soft tip, once your mouth had been pried open, he shoved his whole length inside it with no warning. Holding back a gag, in fear of disappointing him, you strained your eyes to look into his, yours filled with a pleading expression, his filled with a dark cloud of lust as he fucked your throat mercilessly.
With both hands now buried deep in your hair, almost painfully, he grunted under his breath “Fucking good bitch,” tears formed in your eyes as your throat began to ache “You like that dick?”
All of a sudden, he pulled the entirety of himself out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air and wiping away the string of drool that had fallen from your mouth.
“Tell me.” He tightened one of his hands around your hair and used his other hand to grab you by the jaw and force your face close to his.
“Yes- fuck- yes I love it.” you slurred through his tight grip, wondering how you’d explain a hand mark on your face to your friends and family for at least the next week.
Dropping your head so you drooped over yourself, he began to step out of his bottoms, leaving his hard cock to lay against the hem of his shirt. Part way through undoing his bottoms, he pushed your limp body down to the bed by the chest, so you splayed against the sheets, watching Nacho free himself from his shirt, exposing his muscular torso.
Diving onto the bed and crawling towards you like an animal, he pushed your legs apart, revealing the gathering wetness leaking from you. Hungrily, he pushed a hand up from your stomach to your left breast, grasping it beneath his hand, he lowered his head to run his mouth over your nipple, looking up at you with his dark, handsome eyes. Yelping as he bit down on the plush flesh of your breast, you pushed your thighs together, only for him to push them back apart and rise so his leaking tip knocked your clit.
Wrapping a hand around your neck, he spat down at you, “You’re only mine, you hear me, my bitch.”
“Yes..” you whined quietly, too quietly for his taste.
He gave you a small but firm slap across the face that sent electric shocks through your body straight down to your pussy.
“Yes I’m yours, only yours, please, fuck me.” you moaned, as he dragged your thighs around his hips and began to tease your hole. As you descended into a babbling mess, he finally pushed himself inside you slowly, painfully.
“So fucking tight.” He hissed, pinning your wrists to the bed, as his tip grazed your cervix, causing a desperate mewl to escape your lips.
Resting his head against your neck, occasionally grazing the soft and supple skin with his teeth, Nacho’s thrusts began to gain speed as he pounded you against the mattress, pushing his sweaty torso against yours as you writhed against him.
Wrapping two hands from your breasts to your back directly behind them, he pulled you upright onto his lap, forcing you to sit and ride him looking directly into his unwavering gaze. The sound of your wetness drenching the length of his shaft filled the room, your exhausted half-hearted bounces on his dick forced him to grasp your waist and lift you up and down, as you struggled to even keep your eyes open. He didn’t move his gaze away from your face for a second, as your hips moved together in an awry harmony. It was only when his own eyelids began to grow heavy, you knew he was nearing his orgasm, and it spurred you on to fuck back against him as hard as you could.
“Fuck, baby.” he groaned, his grip on your body tightening, as he cocked his head back to savour the feeling of you wrapped around him, his thrust becoming uneven and sporadic, forcing you to take charge.
Soon, his chest began to rise and fall rapidly and he let his head fall back forward to catch the desperate look on your face as you rode him with all the intensity you could muster. With a final open-mouthed groan you felt his cock twitch as he came deep inside you.
For the first time ever, he let you collapse against him, even caressing your head as he regained his breath- and in that very moment you wished you would never have to leave.
