#boriqua

[ivetastic]

TAINA

[soulbrothershow]

She Dreams of Worship: A Sacred Night with Veronica

(with English translations for Spanish phrases)

Tonight feels like a slow burn of purple velvet and lavender smoke. The kind of night where time doesn’t tick—it hums. I walk up the familiar stairs to Veronica’s apartment, a small sanctuary tucked in the corner of a quiet Houston complex. I already know the air inside will smell like her—lavender, coconut oil, and incense—and I’m not wrong.

She opens the door before I even knock, standing there in a vintage Vanity 6 crop top, her thick, caramel thighs kissed by cut-off jean shorts. She looks like a vision from Purple Rain—no, not just Apollonia, but something deeper. A sacred siren in the flesh, Puerto Rican and powerful, her eyes lined with purple shimmer, nails painted violet like royalty. Around her neck, she wears the Prince symbol on a thin gold chain. She doesn’t speak. She just smiles and hugs me tightly.

“I’ve been waiting for this night,” she whispers in my ear. “I know this time of year is hard for you… so tonight is for healing. For Prince. For us.”

We step inside. Candles flicker against the walls, casting honey-colored halos across her space. The speakers throb with the erotic spirituality of The Gold Experience, and on the kitchen counter, two margaritas glisten like holy offerings. She hands me one. It’s strong—tequila, lime, a kiss of orange liqueur—and it tastes like release.

We sink into her plush, oversized couch and let the music speak. Our legs brush, our spirits begin to tangle, and then she reaches into a velvet pouch and pulls out an ounce of “That Badu,” Erykah Badu’s legendary herb. “Only the best for this sacred night,” she says, licking the edge of a blunt and sealing it with her lips. She passes it to me like a chalice.

By the time we finish Lovesexy, we’re levitating. Our laughter is easy, our touches accidental, intentional. We watch Girl 6 next—Spike Lee’s ode to sensuality—and it fills the room with heat. Veronica’s body glows under the TV light, her breasts clearly free beneath the thin fabric of her shirt. Her nipples salute me, and I struggle to keep my eyes on the screen. She notices. Of course, she notices. She always does.

She stretches out across the couch and places her head in my lap like a high priestess of pleasure.

“You miss being touched, don’t you, Papi?” she purrs, eyes glinting with mischief and mercy.

I swallow hard. “Too much.”

She shifts slightly, and I know she feels the bulge in my jeans. She doesn’t shy away. Instead, she gazes up at me.

“What did you think of the love scene in Purple Rain?” she asks.

“It’s still the most beautiful scene I’ve ever watched,” I say. “The way Prince touches Apollonia… it’s not just sex. It’s worship.”

“¿Sabes una cosa?” she murmurs. (“You know something?”) “That’s one of my fantasies… to be touched like that. Worshiped.”

The room goes still. My breath catches. She reaches for the remote and slowly turns the TV off. The silence is full of anticipation. I look down at her, and our eyes lock.

She rises and kisses me—softly at first, like a prayer. Then deeper, fuller, like she’s been waiting years for this moment. And maybe she has. We both have.

Veronica leads me into her bedroom. It’s bathed in a violet glow from a salt lamp and a string of fairy lights. A Prince vinyl spins on the turntable in the corner, the opening chords of “God (Love Theme from Purple Rain)” filling the room like incense.

She stands in front of me, lifting her shirt slowly. Her breasts spill out like sacred fruit, her nipples hard and begging. She slides her shorts down her thighs, revealing skin decorated in colorful tattoos—floral vines, cosmic spirals, feminine power. Naked now, she doesn’t hide. She shines.

“Quítate la ropa, por favor,” she whispers. (“Take off your clothes, please.”) “Let me see your body.”

I hesitate. The weight I gained since the breakup still lingers in my mind like a shadow.

She steps closer and brushes her fingers against my chest. “Tu cuerpo es divino, Chris. Don’t hide from me.” (“Your body is divine, Chris.”)

Slowly, I undress, piece by piece, until I stand before her fully naked, vulnerable, open. She looks me over with reverence in her eyes.

“Dios mío… eres precioso. I’ve dreamed of this.” (“My God… you’re beautiful.”)

She kneels in front of me like I’m her altar. Her hands wrap around my shaft, and she kisses the head gently. Her mouth is soft, wet, sacred. She takes her time, worshiping my cock with slow, deliberate devotion. Her lips glide, her tongue swirls, her moans vibrate against my skin. I place a trembling hand on her head, and she looks up at me with those hypnotic eyes, full of fire and grace.

“Mmm… me encanta tu sabor,” she says between strokes. (“Mmm… I love your taste.”) “You’re delicious, mi amor.” (“My love.”)

I can’t hold it much longer. My thighs tremble. I groan deep from my gut as I release myself into her mouth. She doesn’t flinch. She swallows it all, her tongue still working, her gaze never leaving mine.

She rises and kisses me, letting me taste myself on her lips. “Now,” she whispers, “I want you inside my sacred portal.”

She lays back on the bed, her legs parting like temple doors. I step between them, slowly rubbing her inner thighs, pausing to kiss her belly, her fupa, her hips. She’s already dripping. I rub my fingers over her clit, circling slowly, feeling the pulse of her desire.

“Papi… sí… just like that,” she moans. (“Daddy… yes…”)

I bend forward and taste her—sweet, earthy, divine. Her thighs wrap around my head as I lick her slowly, rhythmically, drinking her in like sacred wine. Her body trembles, her hips rise. I don’t stop. I want to hear her cry out in ecstasy. I want to worship until her voice becomes a hymn.

Her orgasm is loud and holy. She screams my name in Spanish—“¡Dios mío, Chris! ¡Me estás matando, cabrón!” (“My God, Chris! You’re killing me, motherfucker!”)

She pulls me up, panting, eyes full of stardust. “Ahora… hazme el amor. Make love to me, Papi.” (“Now… make love to me.”)

I slide inside her slowly, feeling the velvet warmth surround me. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, her nails dig into my back.

“Oh… mi Dios… it feels so good,” I whisper into her ear. (“Oh… my God…”)

We move together in rhythm with the music. Prince’s voice is our choir, our pace slow and intentional. Her legs wrap around me tighter. Our breath quickens. The room disappears. There’s only us. Our bodies, our sweat, our sacred exchange.

“Fill me up,” she pleads. “I want to feel every drop of you inside me.”

As we climax together, I stare into her eyes and see something eternal. We’re not just bodies. We’re spirit. We’re soul. We are sacred flesh colliding under a purple moon.

Afterward, we lie tangled together, skin to skin, her head resting on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy circles on her thigh. She weeps softly—tears of joy, of release, of sacred remembrance. I kiss them away.

“You’re so passionate, Chris,” she whispers. “Me hiciste sentir tan hermosa… tan viva.” (“You made me feel so beautiful… so alive.”)

“I’ve always seen you that way, Veronica. Always.”

We lay there as “One Kiss At a Time” plays in the background, our hearts still beating in rhythm.

Just before sleep pulls us under, she kisses my cheek and says, “Tonight was divine. But don’t think this is the end. I want more sacred nights with you. If you’ll have me.”

I smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “There’s nothing I’d love more.”

And with that, we fall into sleep—two souls wrapped in purple haze, floating toward another night of divine pleasure.

[d1anna]

archival footage from Takeover: How We Occupied a Hospital and Changed Public Health Care (2021) by Emma Francis-Snyder

[allbornscreamiing]

i have thoughts about elle being puerto rican instead of cuban. she'd definitely be either nicknamed buscabulla (troublemaker) or dulcita (sweetheart).

some puerto rican!elle hcs below the cut!

summer elle on a beach when un verano sin ti by bad bunny first came out might be my favorite thought ever. summer baby in her bikini sipping down a tropical drink on crashboat island in puerto rico, listening to otro atardecer and screaming her lungs out with a flurry of "wepa!!" late at night in a cramped club or at a plaza to el apagon or despues de la playa... that's the life for summer elle. watching people salsa and bomba dance their hearts away.

she for sure moved to puerto rico after her debacle with the b.a.u., and she works sex crimes in puerto rico now, listening to pitorro de coco, wishing on a star just to get to talk to jj one more time.

shed also be a HUGE coquito chugger. that girl will do anything for some of it. she always relies on the abuela just down the street of the mountain she lives on to ask her to make some.

im a huge puerto rican elle lover. being a puerto rican myself, i feel like im projecting, but i definitely would've killed to see more of her culture.

please let me know if you guys would want more hcs of elle as a puerto rican.. i find it so fun giving one of my characters my culture.

[theentityfromhell]

Escaping reality 🇵🇷🐸

[milexa2000]

Nami icons I made for my 🇵🇷 girlies❤️💙🤍

(𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐟 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠🧡)

[ew--gross--blog]

Fuck trump and fuck this sad sack and hack comedian. I am a proud puerto rican and I completed the assignment. PR is a beautiful island full of rich beautiful culture and people.

[meredithseides]

[nash2023]

Obsessed with this!! I’m ready🇵🇷❤️🇵🇷❤️

[doculicious]

Daddy Yankee is retiring from the music business to devout his life to Jesus.

Let's pour one out for the end of a Reggaeton era that started with "Gasolina".

[re1ayanam3]

New glasses alert, transitional lenses, yay <3

[tequilamezcalputo]

also can we acknowledge this baddie????

[frasesydichos]

Un dicho para referirse a tonterías en Puerto Rico

[kaikenyettie]