#Vada Ramirez

[vadaschiquita]

Chiquita | Ch. 19

Chapter 18

“Ay, Nevada!” Mariana complained as she crossed the threshold of Nevada’s apartment.  “Por favor, I’m fine.  We’re fine.”

It’d been agonizing days of recovery at the hospital, but once Mariana had been able to swallow without discomfort and properly digest her food without regurgitating thanks to Ricky’s work and that of the breathing tube, they’d released her and her baby.  Yet, the minute Nevada had heard of Mariana’s release, he’d become stricter than he ever had been before.

Nina, Sofía, and Jess had yet to see Mariana.  It had been her wish to remain unseen by them and anyone who came looking for her.  She had no say in whom saw her son, but according to Nevada, only Nina and Jessica had been the ones who’d kept the baby company whenever he wasn’t with Nevada and her.

Nevada had grown accustomed to not only doing almost everything for her in the duration of her hospital stay, but of making sure she was not over-straining herself when it came to their son, but as soon as the doctor had signed the discharge orders, Mariana had thrown caution to the wind and had done whatever she’d pleased in the coming hours before they’d settle everything with Matías’ doctors.

“Mari,” Nevada huffed.  “Chica, por favor,” he begged, taking a step towards her as she limped towards the couch.

“I’ve been bedridden for two weeks, I’ve missed precious, precious time with our son, and all I want is to take a shower and then sit in the tub with Matías,” she smiled, taking a seat on the couch.

He smirked, sitting besides her, “¿Y yo?”

“Y, ¿tú qué?” she bit her lip, looking up at him with coquettish eyes.

“Am I invited to sit in the tub, too?” Mariana shook her head, leaning back against the couch’s back and adjusting Matías across her front.  “Why not?” she shrugged with an impish smile, running her hand down the small expanse of Matías’ back.  “Chiquita,” Nevada scoffed with a smile.

He looked up at her with his green smolder, relaxing his body in the flirtatious banter they’d set, and when her response didn’t come he leaned in for a kiss, only to find her tipping her chin and his lips landing next to her nose.

“Vada,” she said in a breathy whisper.  “Papi, I want nothing more than to kiss you like I know you want to kiss me, but,” she sighed, looking up at Nevada through her lashes, “I feel disgusting.”

Nevada hummed, giving a slight nod.  “Bueno,” he begun, “you go do that, and papito and I will stay here and… do some work, and when you’re ready for him, me gritas, and I’ll bring him in.”

Mariana nodded, allowing Nevada to take his son from her chest.

Initially, the nurses at the hospital had bundled him incredibly well, but in true Ramirez fashion, he’d become fussy and impatient and it hadn’t been until Nevada had loosened the swaddle that he’d calmed.  Mariana had smiled at him, grateful that even after everything they’d been through, Nevada had found his true fatherly nature.  He’d helped Mariana up to the SUV and had waited until she’d tied Matías in the car seat to order Miguel along.

The drive from Union City to the Heights had been one filled with silence and quiet mumbles from Nevada and Miguel.  She could appreciate that the both were being mindful of her lack of sleep, but most importantly, the slumber of the newborn by her side.

She stared at Nevada and how careful he was with the baby.  He’d leaned back, propped his feet on the coffee table, and allowed for the baby to continue his slumber upon his chest.  As he scrolled through his cellphone, he tipped his chin, placing the tip of his nose to the crown of the baby’s head, and puckered his lips to press a kiss to his soft locks.

She sighed, smiling to Nevada’s profile.  He’d fallen in love with his son and when in his arms, it was like the entire surroundings would disappear and he only lived to protect him.

She stood, glancing once more over her shoulder just to catch the sweetest moment she’d ever seen: Nevada humming a soft lullaby to his son.  She slowly walked towards the en suite, forgetting to grab clean clothes.  For a little over a month, she hadn’t known what a shower felt like, she could feel the excitement coursing through her just as she saw the steam fill the air around her.  Mariana stepped in, toes curling against the ceramic floor.

The feel of the steamy water calmed her and she leaned into the sensation washing over her; taking her mind off of things.  The water poured down her sides, sluicing off her bruised skin, and she sighed, enjoying the feeling of it on her body.  She tipped her head back, allowing the water to coat her grown mane.  It wasn’t until she ran her fingers through her scalp, feeling the stitching of the gash at the back of her head, that she realized the severity of everything that had happened to her in the last month and a half.

She’d lived with the monster that was Ricardo for a couple of years, and for three years she’d been able to avoid the horrible clutches of domestic abuse, but they’d still taken a toll on her mental state.  Now, she had to think about her son.  She would lean into Nevada and his support.  She couldn’t allow herself to sink into the deep abyss that were the clutches of the human mind, she needed to be strong… for her son.

But, she also understood that in order to be strong for her son, she needed to be strong herself.  She sighed, opening her eyes to stare at the bright ceiling of Nevada’s bathroom, bathing her skin, and taking notice of the bruises scattered on her skin.  Every mark had a story and a reason for being on her body.  If it wasn’t caused by hospital equipment, Ricky and his mean streak had caused it.  She made sure to lather herself thoroughly, enjoying the suds and the feeling of being clean and taking time to brush her teeth.

The doctor had advised against washing her hair for the time being until the stitches had come off, but he’d allowed for her to wet it and apply product to the hair as opposed to the scalp.  Once done with her shower, she’d wrapped herself in Nevada’s towel, filling the tub with hot water, essential oils, and oat milk soap for both the baby and her.

She was almost ready to call Nevada when he entered with a crying baby, startling Mariana in her quiet reverie.  Nevada noticed and he grimaced, “Ay, mami…”

Mariana smiled, shaking her head, “No, don’t apologize.”

He sighed.  “Someone’s ready to eat,” he said, bouncing the baby in his arms.  “You almost done?” she nodded, walking towards him and placing a kiss to his lips.

Nevada hummed, smirking at her willingness.  “Here, I’ll check on the water,” he handed the baby to Mariana, placing a kiss to his head as he did so.

“Ya, mi amor,” she soothed in a mellow voice.  “Papi’s almost done with the water.”

Nevada hummed again; shaking his hand above the water he’d been testing, and nodded.  He turned the faucet off, standing with a slight protest of his knees to find Mariana sitting on the toilet’s top lid with Matías waving his little arms and fists in the air, exercising his lungs in a powerful cry as she divested him of his onesie, socks, and diaper.

His skin sprouted in gooseflesh and Mariana giggled, coming to a stand, and expertly handling the crying baby as she divested herself of the towel surrounding her body.  Nevada took a step forward, taking his son in his hands as Mariana stepped in and lowered herself in the tub.  She hissed, hinting at the warmth of the water against her slightly cold skin.

“Too hot?” she shook her head.

She raised her arms, wiping her chest with the towel she’d just removed from her body just so that Matías could latch successfully.  Nevada handed Matías to Mariana, and she cooed at him softly, watching as Matías shook his head to find his mother’s nipple and latch.

“Ya, corazón,” Mariana said with a smile, wetting his soft locks.

Minutes ticked on by before Nevada gathered his bravado. “How—How are you feeling?”

Mariana looked up from her son’s face, sighing softly as she gathered the baby against her chest to burp him.  Matías’ head faced Nevada, and as Mariana patted his back in rapid succession, the baby nuzzled into his mother’s skin, keeping his eyes open.  She ignored the question for the time being, listening to Matías’s soft coos and low-pitched contented sounds.

He burped, causing Nevada to chuckle.  Mariana positioned him once more to suckle, scooping water with her hand to bathe the newborn.

“Chiquita…”

She nodded, turning her head, “Be honest with me.  Do you want the real truth or some watered-down version of it?”

Nevada set his jaw, giving a quick glance to Matías and his movements.  “I would hope you’d give me the real one,” he said evenly.

“I am happy,” she said with a nod, shifting in the water.  “But, I am scared, too.  I’m relieved to be here with you and our son, Nevada, but…” she sighed, feeling her chin tremble, “I almost—”

“No, no,” he quickly interrupted.  “No, we’re not going to think that way, Mari.  You’re here, you’re safe, and you have our son in your hands, mami.  Don’t—Don’t allow that… motherfucker to steal this.”

“Vada—”

“Qué no, ¡coño!  You’ve beat him before, you’re going to again.”

She hissed, glancing down at her son.  She saw Nevada move and she shook her head, “I’m fine, just a little sore,” she tittered.  “Where is he?”

“Chiquita—”

“Nevada,” she warned sternly.  “What did you do?”

He couldn’t help his smirk and he shook his head.  “Nada,” he bit his lip, looking up at Mariana.  He wouldn’t bother her with what he had… or hadn’t done with Ricky.  That was his problem now, and he would handle it as he saw fit.

She narrowed her eyes at him.  She knew to expect pushback and for the time being, she’d allow it, but there needed to come a moment where she’d make sure to know what had happened with Ricky.

She focused on the way Nevada’s finger trailed her soapy skin and the look of utter love in his eyes.  She’d made him a father and if being around him and Sofía was any indication of his devotion as a parent, she was most excited to see him be a father to their son.

At the hospital, she’d enjoyed time with her son, but everything had a time stamp.  Matías could only be with her in her room for two hours before the NICU nurses came in wanting to take him away.  His heart rate had improved exponentially, but they wanted to make sure that it was just a mild complication instead of a life altering one.  The last thing she wanted was to prevent the medical staff from doing what they needed to do in order to ensure her son’s safety.  Yet, she found herself yearning for him the second he was away, and it wasn’t until she threw a fit with Nevada that they finally moved her from the intensive care unit to a room in the maternity ward.

She’d avoided Nevada’s question.  She’d been truthful to some extent, but she hadn’t told him about the nightmares and sleepless nights.  Not because Matías wasn’t sleeping well, but because all she could see whenever she closed her eyes was the vivid memory of the container turned prison in the shipping yards.  Whatever Nevada had done or was doing with Ricky, he deserved, and she hoped he’d suffer the same amount if not more than she had.

“I scheduled an appointment at the dentist tomorrow,” she said quietly, smiling at her newborn son.

Nevada sighed, clearly annoyed at what she’d said.  “Mariana—”

“Nevada, what is your problem?  Are you planning on keeping me cooped up in here?”

“Well… I just might.  Papito cannot be going outside—el sereno me lo va a enfermar.”

Mariana rolled her eyes, “How long is that excuse going to last for?”

“Can’t the appointment wait another week, at least?” he bargained.

“No,” she shook her head.  “I’m going tomorrow to the dentist.”

“Fine,” he surrendered, knowing he wouldn’t win this one.  “Drop him off at the club—”

“Ha!” she shouted, allowing the outburst to turn into laughter as she adjusted her son on her chest.  “That’s funny.  In your fucking dreams.  I already asked Jess to come with me.”

He hummed, ready to fuss at her once more.  “What happened to ‘no quiero que nadie me vea’?” he faked mocked.

She shrugged.  “At my discretion…” she smirked, side-eyeing him.  “I’m swinging by Nina’s, too,” she saw as he got ready to protest and she beat him to the punch.  “Don’t even.  I’m going and that’s that.”

“Take Miguel.”

“No.”

He hung his head, what exactly was he paying for when God decided to put her in his path?

The debate had been that she did not want protection, but the second he’d forced her into it, she’d wanted Miguel.  It’s how she’d end up with Dylan in the first place, but now that he was more than willing to surrender Miguel for her and her safety—their safety, she didn’t want him.

“No me mires así,” she softly offered.  “You’re only offering Miguel because I was right all along and you’re feeling guilty.  Do not pity me.  From anyone else, sure, I’ll take it ‘cause they don’t know better, but I will not tolerate you treating me any different,” she brought her hand out of the water and pressed it to his beard, feeling the weight of his head against her palm.  “I’ll be fine, I promise.  And, if I need help or I’m feeling tired, I will personally call Miguel and guilt him into coming to my rescue,” she finished with a smile.

“Ay, Chiquita…” he sighed, looking into her eyes.  “Fine, but just know I still have eyes everywhere.”

“Mari, look at him!” Jess fawned for the countless time since leaving the dentist’s appointment.

Now, they were walking side by side.  Jess wore the baby and Mariana carried her new accessory turned purse: Matías’ diaper bag.  They walked at a leisure pace down the block of Mariana’s dentist.  In her mouth she still housed some cotton balls that she needed to take out as soon as she got to Nevada’s.

Mariana smiled at the genuine love she saw in Jess’ eyes.  Her son had his head tipped back, his mouth open as he slept.

“Mouth breathers are the worst, Matty,” Jess tittered, bringing her thumb to Matías chin, pushing on his jaw until his mouth was closed and she heard him sigh through his nose.  “Much better,” she placated, glancing at Mariana.

She’d felt Mariana’s eyes on her profile, but when she glanced at her walking companion, her eyes were fixed on every step they took.  She watched Mariana, gauging how to further proceed when Mariana looked up.

“What?” she said, muffled.

“How are you feeling, Mari?  The truth.”

Mariana sighed, shaking her head.  “I’m happy,” Mariana admitted, swallowing around the cotton in her mouth.  “I’m angry.  I’m scared.  I’m relieved…”

“Where’s that piece of shit, anyways?”

Mariana shrugged, “Nevada won’t tell me.”

Jessica hummed, but did not press the issue.  She knew better than to even think about questioning Nevada’s choices.  Mariana was the only one that got away with it, and that was because she was not scared of Nevada.  She didn’t fear the repercussions, but everyone else did.

“You know,” Mariana continued, breaking the tense silence between them, “there were days where I would wake up in the hospital and my first thought was of Ricky.  If he was alive or dead, and if he was alive, what were his injuries?  Was he in the same hospital as I was?  Were the police with him?  What had Nevada done to him after I loss consciousness.  Had he killed Ricky?  Had Miguel?  If Ricky was dead, then what happened to his body?  Had the news covered the story?” she paused, reaching into her mouth to remove the cotton tucked between her cheeks.  She made a tasteless sound, bringing the back of her free hand to her mouth before Jess scolded her.

“Don’t!”

“Why?” Mariana looked at Jess with teary eyes.  “Why do I care about him?”

Jess frowned, sifting through her words in order to properly formulate her response.

There were several people in the world that could render Jess speechless, Mariana being one of them.  She looked away, too much pain in Mariana’s eyes made her uneasy.  She couldn’t lie to her if she looked at her, she couldn’t properly comfort Mariana either if she knew there would be a rebuttal.

“Mari,” Jess sighed, shaking her head and closing her eyes at Mariana’s soft whimper.  She could feel her chin begin to tremble and she cleared her throat, distracting herself from the emotions… from the truth.

“I still love him, don’t I?”

“Mari…”

“Stop… saying my name!” she came to a stop, disentangling her arm from Jess’.

“I—”

“Just… give me my kid,” she grumbled, tugging at the knot that held the fabric in place at Jess’ natural waist.  Jess went to protest, but Mariana already had Matías in her arms, tugging at the fabric with her free hand as she made a quick getaway.

Jessica stood rooted to her spot.  She’d literally said nothing to Mariana, nothing to upset her to such extent.

She understood that Mariana needed time.  Time to heal and come to understand that Ricky was not a threat any longer.  Regardless of what Nevada had or hadn’t done to him.  Mariana was safe now.  Matías was safe.  But, Jess could see that inner turmoil in her eyes.  It’d been the same way when she’d started at the school almost four years back.  Mariana needed time, more than before, because now she was caring for her child, who needed her more than anything.

Jess watched Mariana power walk down the sidewalk, the fabric of the wrap caught in the wind behind her like a superhero’s cape.  She didn’t follow her, she allowed her her space.  Jess just hoped she’d remain safe.

Matías had barely stirred with the jostle of the transfer, and Mariana had ducked into one of those fancy Midtown coffee shops and into their restroom in order to both change Matías’ diaper and redo the wrap around her body.  The whole thing had taken ten minutes, and she hadn’t left without purchasing some herbal tea to soothe her still aching throat and out of whack nerves.

The afternoon wind picked up, making her shiver, so she pulled the edge of the wrap over her son’s head, patting at his back with each of her steps.

It was no secret that she’d been on edge.  Even before leaving the hospital.  She tossed and turned all night, even when laying next to Nevada.  His hold on her strong and his slumber even stronger.  He only ever stirred when he heard Matías coo from his bassinet at Mariana’s side.  The entire Ricky ordeal she’d thought to have compartmentalized well, but it’d been proven wrong.  Even now, she counted her steps, and her ears were perked up for any unwanted sound behind her.  Her instincts had sharpened, and she hated the way she could feel her shoulders on her neck.

Her bottom vibrated, pulling her thoughts to the now.  She glanced at the sleeping face of her son, partially covered by the wrap over his head, and she smiled, glancing down the street to see if she could at least place her surroundings.  She’d walked a little over five blocks from where she’d left Jess rooted to her spot, a sense of guilt now washing over her.  She lashed out for no reason.  She lashed out, for what?

Jessica had been nothing but supportive and she went and got mad at her because she didn’t cosign Mariana’s thoughts and feelings?  Or, was it been deeper than that?

Was Jess’ silence and apprehension a confirmation of her deepest thoughts and feelings or was it something else completely?  She’d opened up to Jess, at her request, let her in to Mariana’s deepest thoughts as of late, and she received nothing but silence from whom she called her best friend.

She felt her bottom vibrate again and she reached around to fish it out of her back pocket.  She’d a few missed calls and texts from Jess, and a dozen more notifications, all from Nevada.  She rolled her head, taking a careful sip of her herbal tea when her phone vibrated furiously in her hand: an incoming call from Nevada.

She answered, “Nevada.”

“Mariana, what the fuck is your problem?”

Mariana smacked her teeth, ending the call promptly.  If Nevada wanted to argue, then he would do so by himself.  She hadn’t the energy to do so at the moment.  Instead, she typed a quick message to Miguel with her location and a warning.  She’d stumbled upon an empty Paley Park, and she sat near the waterwall, entranced and lulled by its soothing sound.

She’d no knowledge how long she sat there, but when Miguel found her, she was in the middle of breastfeeding Matías.

“Señito,” Miguel interrupted softly, causing Mariana to startle.  “Sorry, sorry,” he said, not approaching Mariana further.  Mariana waved him off, moving the baby’s diaper bag so that Miguel could sit in the chair closest to her.  As Miguel sat, he said, “Takes after Nevada, then?  Always eating!”

Mariana shared a chuckle with him.  She sighed, leaning back, “I had to turn off my phone.”

“Señito, el jefe…” Miguel sighed, not knowing how to proceed.  “El jefe didn’t take well your disappearance.  When you weren’t answering, he lost it.”

“I know, Miguel.  I know,” Mariana nodded, turning to acknowledge Nevada’s Tiburón.  “I’m struggling, too, and him treating me like spun glass isn’t helping.”

Miguel glanced down at his lap, bringing his phone up to show Mariana whose name lit up the screen, “Can I?”

Mariana smirked, “I’m not your boss, he is.”

“We all know that’s not true,” Miguel chuckled, answering when Mariana gave him a nod.  Mariana could hear Nevada yelling and cussing at Miguel over his whereabouts and Mariana’s alike.

Mariana extended her arm, feeling Matty unlatch.  She accommodated her bra and lowered her shirt, handing the baby over to Miguel.  Miguel’s mouth worked overtime, opening and closing as Mariana giggled over the man’s fumbling.

“Here, drape him over your shoulder like this,” Mariana coached, accommodating Matty on Miguel’s shoulder for him to burp the baby.  “And, hold his butt—yes!” she continued, having heard Nevada’s silence on the other side of the line.  “Now, burp him.  You’re not hurting him, I promise,” Mariana smiled and watched as Miguel patted the baby’s back.

“Mari,” she heard Nevada calling for her through the phone.  It sounded far away, but loud enough that both her and Miguel glanced at the phone now atop the table between them.  “Chica, Mari!” he protested again.

She picked up the phone, “Nevada.”

“Why’d you hung up on me?  Where are you?”

“I can always hang up again,” she simply reminded.  He was yelling, and he sighed heavily, no doubt tampering his anger before speaking again.  “Now, start over.”

Nevada cleared his throat, rubbing at his brow from behind his desk.  This was all too reminiscent.  Too close to what had happened, not that while back.  He hated not having easy contact with her.  He hated that she’d turned off her phone without a regard for her safety and that of their son.  If it were up to him, she’d never leave the safe confines of his home, but he knew better than to push her.  She’d already been trapped, he wouldn’t do that to her again.  Not to his Chiquita.

“Chiquita,” he restrained himself, knowing that lashing out would get him complete silence.  “Dile a Miguel que te traiga.  And, I don’t want to hear any more protesting from you.  Is that clear?”

Mariana smirked, watching Miguel burp the newborn baby.  Mariana giggled when Matías burped, surprising the burly man.  

“Mari?”

Mariana rolled her eyes, “Ya.”

“Dile a Miguel—”

Mariana groaned, “Miguel, could you take us to Nevada?”  Miguel nodded with a smile, his hand still patting at Matty’s back.  They stood, Mariana making sure she’d everything she needed.  “Could we stop for food, first?”

Nevada smacked his teeth audibly, “Mari!”

The protest quickly died when Mariana pressed the end call button on the screen, following Miguel with a giggle on her lips.  She lived to aggravate Nevada.  His sole existence aggravated the world, so a little taste of his own medicine would do him good, and hopefully he’d learn to trust her instincts.

Mariana could hear muffled shouts as she reached the upstairs area of Nevada’s club.  She slowed her pace, running her hands down her son’s back.

They rode in the back of Nevada’s SUV without a car seat in sight.  Miguel had taken speed limits seriously and dared not travel a mile over them for the sake of him and the lives of the precious cargo he transported.

Mariana took a step back as Miguel passed her by, an arm extended behind him as he approached the Nevada’s office door.  Miguel knocked twice, pushing the door open and peaking his head in.  There was some muffled exchange and Miguel shut the door, grimacing towards Mariana’s general direction.

Mariana shook her head, glancing down at the wide awake expression of her newborn.  “Tu papá is something else, Matías,” she chuckled.  “Diosito, dime que va a salir a mí…”

Nevada strolled out, coolly approaching Mariana.  He smirked, placing an unlit cigarette over his ear.  “Chiquita,” he sighed, taking her in.  He leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers forcefully.  

Mariana hummed at the familiar taste that was Nevada.  He hadn’t been smoking, but he’d been drinking, she could taste his private selection on his lips.  She pulled back, licking her lips to savor Nevada on her lips.  She smiled, feeling the tension of the day roll off her shoulders.  She smiled at him, bringing her thumb to swipe underneath Nevada’s lip, and he puckered his mouth into the pad of her thumb before it was completely away.

“With our luck, he’ll be like the both of us, and really drive me insane,” he said between them, tucking his chin to press his lips against Matías’ soft hairs.

Mariana snickered.  “Pucho in there?”  Nevada nodded.  “Did you bring me here to have me stand or is your… mess not quite clean yet?”

Nevada sighed, clenching his jaw to keep his temper at bay.  He stared at her, smolder against smolder.  “Miguel.”

Mariana glanced past Nevada’s shoulder, watching Miguel move and peak inside the door.  Nevada had busied himself with his son, cooing at him softly.  When Miguel straightened and cleared his throat, Nevada took a step to her side, allowing her to walk in first.  He ogled her as she walked in front of him, smirking at the pretty sway of her hips and the fill of her ass in her jeans.

She was working on divesting herself from the taut fabric around her body, keeping a protective arm around her son’s back.  She greeted Pucho with excitement, easing Matías out of the wrap.  Pucho fawned over the baby and kissed Mariana’s cheek, just below the healing bruise near her cheek.  Nevada moved about his office, propping some cushions at the end of the couch just as he sat.

Nevada whistled, creating a double eye-roll from both Pucho and Mariana.  Mariana approached him, handing him his son.  Nevada smiled, pressing his lips to Matías’ brow.  Nevada turned his head, stealing a kiss from the brown-skinned beauty next to him, feeling the smile spread across her lips.  He hummed noncommittally with a jut of his chin towards the end of the couch where he’d propped some cushions.

Mariana yawned, leaning back against the cushions, and bringing her feet to Nevada’s lap.  In one arm he safely held his son, while his other busied itself with untying and slipping Mariana’s shoes off.

She glanced at Nevada and Matías, both involved in themselves as Miguel and Pucho mumbled something about numbers, lulling her to sleep.

tags: @bananas-pajamas​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @imjustreallynosy​ @katierpblogg​ @angelicdestieldemon

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Pretty Little Psycho

A Nevada Ramirez and Nettie Perez Story. Part Two.

Part One

Summery: Nettie waits for Nevada to bring her bag back. When he never shows up, Nettie decided to take matters into her own hand and go after Nevada.

Word Count: 2,018 Warnings: Cursing. Talk about drugs and blowjobs. Nettie gets aggressive. Some explicit talk. Spanish! 

The next few days had Nettie anxious. She had not only back talked to the Nevada Ramirez but lived to tell the tale. Just at the thought that she would even dare tell anyone what had happened Nettie let out a pretty ugly snort as she stood at the café. Trying to figure out a way to retrieve her bag. Surely Nevada would have been kind enough to return it, or have his minions bring it back. Hell throw it at her through the car window. No need to stop. She just needed the fucking bag back.

Her phone, medication, gun and her last three paychecks were in that bag. Along with her wallet that had her I.D. Those shit were a pain in the ass to get made again.

“Mother fucker… hijo de puta…” she would mumble under her breath as she worked, honestly not caring since she maned the front of the café alone. Dalvin would always be in his office working on the finances and Camila would be baking.

As the day slowly came to an end, Nettie said goodbye to the two owners and left. On a mission. After asking around on her walk home, Nettie found out where Nevada or Trujillo usually hangs around at night. It was a Saturday, so she hoped he would be there.

Checking the time, Nettie narrowed her eyes and went to get a shower. Once clean, shaved and feeling a little better. Nettie started to get ready. Blow dying her hair, leaving her dark locks in semi-straight. She pulled her hair in a few braids but tied it off in a ponytail instead of braiding it all the way. Grinning and doing something simple with her makeup, Nettie put on mascara, foundation to hide the dark bags under her eyes, blush on her cheek bones and some liquid eyeliner on her eyelid, deciding against the cat eye look. Once that was done, she added a bit of pink lipstick and went to put on her clothes.

Black leather shorts, a simple black tank top underneath and her black studded leather jacket. Nettie was on a mission. Slipping her feet into four-inch heels that had a strap. Making it easier for her to walk and not worry about her heels slipping out of her feet with each step. Once ready, Netter lathered her lips with some gloss and left her house.

Walking to where the club was, Nettie suddenly felt her palms become sweaty and she started to rethink her decision. ‘What the fuck am I thinking…’ she thought to herself and walked right up to the bouncer at the door. Putting on a flirty smile, she whispered a few things in his ear. Mostly flirting while rubbing his arm up and down. Soon enough, she was let in with a smirk.

Looking around the dark club, Nettie furrowed her eyebrows and pushed her way to the bar. The club was so loud she almost couldn’t hear herself think. But once at the bar, Nettie grinned at the bartender.

“What can I get you linda?” he asked over the music.

Shaking her head, she leaned over the bar. “I’m looking for Nevada Ramirez.” She yelled back and saw the guys eyebrows raise.

“Look…” he started and sighed. “You seem like a good girl. You don’t want to get mixed up with Nevada and his stuff.”

Nettie almost laughed, knowing how it must look. Her asking to see Nevada. The druglord and ‘King’ Asshole of Washington Heights.

“I don’t want anything like that!” she yelled out. “His bodyguard, Miguel helped me a few days back and Nevada gave me a ride home! They have my purse and I need it back!” She explained and the bartender just looked uneasy.

But instead of saying, he pointed to the side where there were some stairs. A guard, well… guarding it and the bartender shrugged. “Take this up there…” he told her and handed over some papers. “I was going to go, but it’ll get you up there.” He smiled and Nettie suddenly felt grateful.

Taking her jacket off and the bartender placing it behind the bar. He winked at her and Nettie grinned. Pulling her shirt down further, giving a nice few of her cleavage and her practically see through lace bra. She turned and headed over to the stairs.

“I have papers for Nevada...” she held them up and after the guard looked over the papers quickly. He let her up and Nettie almost giggled.

‘this is going way too easy…’

Once up there, she rolled her eyes. Men sitting around, girls giving lap dances almost naked. Some doing a line of coke, others drinking. One even seemed to be giving some guy a blowjob. But Nettie paid them no mind. She quickly found Nevada and walked over to him. Throwing the papers down on the table in front of him. Ignoring the fact that the papers spread over the table and two even fell to the floor.

“Mira quién apareció.” He laughed and Netter rolled her eyes once again.

“Si, Si… I showed up. Don’t go creamin’ your pants now Nevada.” She taunted, smirking while her arms crossed over her chest.

Watching him lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Nettie watched as Nevada licked over his lips. His eyes trailing over her body. Looking at her exposed legs, that looked a lot longer thanks to her heels. Her bare arms and chest that was slightly thrusted outwards thanks to her arms being crossed under her bust.

“Now mami, we don’t want a repeat of last time… do we?” he questioned, and Nettie gritted her teeth.

“Mira aquí, Nevada. I didn’t come here to chit-chat.” Nettie stepped forward. “I came here to get my purse that was left in your stupid looking escalade.” She laughed, this whole situation was an honest joke. “So, can I please have it back then I’ll leave and never come face to face with you unless absolutely necessary.” Nettie bargained, tilting her head to the side.

Nevada just sat there, a little confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Jose took that bag back to you two days ago.” Nevada waved her off.

Nettie just threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, yeah. OKAY. That’s why I’m here. Cause your guy brought my bag back. Yet, here I am. Telling you I don’t have it. Last time I saw it was when I got in YOUR escalade.” She exclaimed, voice raising now.

Taking a step back when Nevada got to his feet. Miguel stepped forward and Nettie was soon being dragged somewhere. Had she not caught her footing; Nevada would have ended up literally dragging her.

Entering a office, Nettie was pushed into a seat and Nevada ordered Miguel to grab Jose.

“I am really fucking tired of your pretty little mouth, mami.” Nevada sneered and Nettie sighed.

“If it was up to me, Trujillo I wouldn’t even be here. But I fucking need my bag.” She eyed him and leaned back against the leather seat.

Yet, before he could say anything. There was a knock and soon Jose was pushed inside.

“AH! Jose… Jose, Jose, Jose... I gave you a job to do the other day. You told me you delivered the bag.” Nevada stood up and walked around his desk to sit on the edge of it. “Now, I got little miss mami here. Saying she wants her bag back, which is hilarious. Cause, you told me you returned it to her.”

Nettie stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. “Where the fuck is my bag?” she asked, glaring at the man in front of her.

“I… I gave it to you, crazy puta.” Jose tried to sound tough, but Nettie wasn’t having it.

She stepped forward; Nevada didn’t even try to stop her.

“Oh, you gave me my bag. Huh. So why am I here then?” she asked him.

Jose just let out a laugh, one that sounded like a nervous chuckle. “The fuck should I know. Probably trying to get Nevada to pay you or something.” He looked over her shoulder to Nevada. “You know these putas are loca.” He laughed, but it turned into a painful groan in just two seconds.

Nettie was standing in front of Jose; her knee having encountered his dick and balls in one swift upwards motion.

“Call me puta… one more time. I will personally cut your dick off and shove it up your ass, making you my little bitch.” Nettie grabbed Jose's hair with a fist and hissed in his ear.

Miguel had to turn his head and let out a few very suspicious coughs that sounded like laughter to Nettie. Not that she was paying him much attention.

“FUCK… fine! I have your shit. Spent your money as well. Hoes like you deserve it. Thinking they a bad bitch!” Jose said in a painful grunt as Nettie pulled harder at his hair.

With wide eyes, her mouth dropped. Lifting her high heeled foot, she kicked Jose in the chest. Sending him flying back to the floor. Only to turn to Nevada. “I am going to murder him.” She told the man through her clenched teeth.

Shaking his head, Nevada looked at Jose before glancing at Miguel. “Go teach Jose here some manners… find out where her stuff is and bring it back to her.”

With that, Miguel picked Jose by the back of his shirt and pushed him out the door forcefully. Jose knocking into the door frame only to be pushed out.

Rubbing at her tired face, Nettie sat back down in the chair. “That fucker spent three months’ worth of my pay.” She scoffed and stood up. “If you could, get Miguel to bring me my stuff at my place? I need to get out of here.” She mumbled and headed to the door.

Nettie never stopped to see what Nevada would say. She just left. Pushing her way down the stairs and to the bar. Grabbing her jacket. She waved at the bartender and quickly left the club. The cool air outside felt heavenly against her skin.

Two hours later, Nettie was laying on her couch wearing a shirt three times too big for her and a pair of girl boxers that hugged her ass. Sipping from a wine glass that was filled halfway with the boxed wine she had in her fridge. When there came a knock to her door. Nettie stood up slowly and dragged her feet over to the door.

“Hola mami…” Nevada grinned when she opened the door. One of his hands held a cigar and the other her purse. “I believe this is yours.” He held it out to her, and Nettie smiled slightly.

“It is… thank you Nevada.” She grabbed the straps of the purse and frowned when he didn’t let go. Only pulling at it so Nettie stepped closer to him.

Nettie watched as Nevada licked over his lips as he glanced down to her lips. “Do I get a thank you… for returning your shit?” he asked, Nettie almost laughed in his face.

“Nevada… it was your men who didn’t return it in the first place.” She reminded him and shrugged. But instead of saying anything else. She gave him the softest kiss she could muster up. Her lips barley brushing against his. “Thank you… have a nice night now.” She slipped her bag from his hand and stepped back inside her home. Closing her door easily and letting out a breathless chuckle.

Locking the door. Nettie looked inside her purse, only to freeze when she saw it was filled with money.

‘Here’s Jose’s next three pay. Don’t spend it all in one place- Nevada.’

Read the note on top of all the money. Shaking her head, Nettie rushed over to the door and unlocked it. Pulling it open, she cursed when she saw that Nevada had left.

Throwing her purse on the couch, Nettie went to sleep. Deciding to deal with all that money in the morning.

Tagging- @the-baby-bookworm​ I am having so much fun writing this. If you’d like to be tagged!! Talk to me. <3 Don’t forget to Heart and Reblog! 

[adarafaelbarba]

Pairing: Nevada Ramirez x reader (Trouble in the Heights)

Square: “I thought you said no more dangerous stunts?»

Bingo: kattsbdaybingo2022 by @storiesofsvu

Day one

WC: 335

«Dumbass!» You were glaring at your boyfriend through the mirror as he cleaned a fresh wound.

«What was that princess?» It was dangerous to cross him, but he almost sounded amused through his annoyance and gritted teeth.

«You fucking heard me Vada! You fucking dumbass! I thought you said no more dangerous stunts?!» It was true. He had said that, and then he got stabbed.

It wasn’t that he had actively gotten out of the way to get stabbed. At least you hoped it wasn’t, cause that would be even dumber. No, he had done it because of you. Stepping in between you and someone out to teach you a lesson whatever the fuck that meant.

«Maybe I’ll let you take the blade next time then», he said, rollin his eyes as he applied the compress over the wound. Nevada was surprisingly good at tending to wounds, which only made you wonder how many times he had done it before. But you didn’t ask, not sure if you wanted to know the answer. «I can’t recall me protecting you as a dangerous stunt though...so forgive me for saving you.»

God you wanted to punch him in the face, but you also wanted to kiss him. And right now you leant more on the latter, so you simply made your way over to him and pulled at him to turn before kissing him desperately, putting all your worry, love and gratitude into the kiss. «If you ever get hurt again I’ll kill you myself Nevada, got it?»

«Yes, amor, I’ll let you get stabbed the next time.»

You hit him then, calling him an asshole before walking away from him. Doing that to him was threading a thin line, and part of you was happy he was injured, so he couldn’t punish you, yet. But another part knew the punishment would be much worse the longer he got to plan it. And boy would you live to regret the hit when he was finally healed.

[tinyboxxtink]

Touch list: How about touching Vada or Rafa when you’re afraid?

For this one I'm gonna do some head canons, for both of them.

For Nevada:

You're used to being in "less than safe" situations being with Vada for as long as you have, but there are still times that still frighten you.

Usually, it's in fear for him.

He doesn't like you to be around his 'colleagues'.

He tries to keep you out of "business meetings", but when you insist, he makes sure you're standing behind him the entire time.

If a 'client' starts getting agitated with Vada, you'll run your fingers along the back of his neck and stare down the person, as if you're warning them about something.

It's really about the same as a little dog barking like it's a huge dog, when really, it's terrified inside.

Vada can tell you're getting nervous when he feels those nails. Your perfectly manicured acrylic nails being beaten down by the clacking against his leather jacket.

He'll take the hand off the back of his neck and hold it for a moment, before taking it to his lips and pressing a sweet kiss on the front of your palm.

Sometimes the client will make a surprised look at the sweet gesture; Nevada Ramirez is not known for his comforting nature.

Nevada will quickly jump on them for staring at his 'Reina' [queen], and they'll back off almost instantly.

After the meeting and after his clients have left, he'll fully drop his 'tough guy' act and make sure you are alright.

He'll bring you around the chair and pull you into his lap while kissing you softly.

He always tells you not to worry about him, and you always remind him that you will worry about him and there's nothing he can do about it.

"Bueno", he'll say. "It's kinda nice having an ángel de la guarda while I deal with these cabeza de mierda."

For Rafael:

Your "fear" with him is usually just anxiety.

And it's usually when you're forced to attend big fancy galas and dinners.

You always feel like you're an imposter in the room.

Every other wife or significant other there always seem so glamorous, so put together.

Walking into a huge ballroom or banquet hall is always intimidating, no matter how many charity events, balls, and other elitist events you're forced to attend.

Your hand will instantly grip the back of Rafael's shoulder, like a child clinging to its parent so as not to get lost in a crowd.

He'll take it off and rub the back of your head with his thumb, kissing the back of your hand and giving you his sweet smile.

You'll both make the rounds, mostly just waving and nodding to other guests.

If Rafael gets pulled into a conversation with a fellow lawyer, you'll soon get anxious as you just have to stand there like a plant.

This is especially distressing when he gets into a heated debate with a congressman or the like.

You'll start to fidget with your fingers or run them along the sides of his tuxedo jacket.

Once he notices this, he'll either concede to the argument or make up an excuse to exit the situation, while taking your hand in his and walking away.

He'll then take the other hand and hold them both in his hands as he gives you a beaming smile.

"Thank you for putting up with these horrible things mi amor, I don't deserve you,"

You remind him that the feeling is mutual, and that you'll always be by his side as long as he makes you feel as safe as he does.

He promises to always uphold that deal, and then proposes to take you home where you both can get out of these "costumes"

Tag List

@madamsnape921

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@gibbs274

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@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

[storiesofsvu]

Stuffed

Nevada Ramirez x fem!reader Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, butt plugs, smut, anal, rough sex, dirty talk, slight degredation. Covers the “Anal” square of @thatesqcrush’s kink bingo.

Nevada left you alone as soon as you got to the club, he knew you and your friends had more than enough reasons to celebrate. More so, he knew that your ass was safely stuffed with his plug, and that his promise was probably ringing in your ears. He made his way up to the balcony that overlooked the dance floor, keeping an eye on you as you flitted throughout the crowd. Your silver dress sparkled in the night, it was more than easy enough to spot in the strobing lights.

His men knew you, you had an ongoing bar tab, that you were more than willing to use, he watched you dance around with your friends. The way you tossed back shots one after another, the gleeful smile on your cheeks echoing through the room as you moved back to the dance floor. Nevada watched from the balcony as you had the time of your life, grinding your hips against whomever happened to be dancing around you. Watching the way you threw your head back, laughing at whatever you friend had said.

You finally made your way up to the bar, asking this time for a glass of water alongside the round of shots you ordered. You weren’t totally surprised when the bartender said you were wanted upstairs, guiding you to the set of the stairs and nodding that you could go up.

Surprisingly Nevada wasn’t in the lounge, you were offered a fresh drink and told he was waiting for you in the office.

“You pull me from having fun to watch you do boring paperwork?” You pouted from the doorway.

“Oh Princesa…I pulled you from having fun so I could fill that pretty ass of yours with my cum.”

“You gonna talk about it, or are you gonna do it.”

Nevada let out a dark laugh, pushing his chair back from his desk.

“Just for that you’re not allowed to come.” He growled, harshly tugging you to him, his lips heading straight to your neck, teeth digging into your skin, knowing that it would turn you on just as much.

His hands grabbed at your hips, swiftly turning you around to face the desk and shoving your torso over it. Nevada propped a foot between your spread legs, making sure you were unable to close them, unable to squeeze your thighs together to get some relief before he rucked up your dress, baring your ass cheeks and the glittering plug to him. You let out a groan when his palm collided with your supple cheek, pushing you further into the desk.

The moan turned into a whimper as his fingers wrapped around the base of the plug, gently easing it from you until just the tip was left in, before beginning to fuck you with it. Your hands clutched at the wood of the desk, whines leaving your lips as you begged for more. Nevada chuckled, pulling the plug completely from you as his free hand reached into a drawer of the desk.

“Look at that pretty ass….all stretched out for me…you’re such a good little whore when you want to be.”

“Only for you Vada…” you whined in response, listening to the clink of his belt as he undid it, pulling his length out of his pants. You heard the cap of the lube click open, gasping at the cold of the liquid hitting your ass, Nevada coated his his cock with it, spreading it around your stretched hole. You groaned when his fingers shoved the lube into you, fingering you, your hips pushing back onto his hand.

“So fucking needy already.” He laughed, “you want my cock?”

“Please Vada!” You whined out a bag, “please fill my ass with your fat cock.”

Nevada wasted no time, he knew you’d been warmed up for hours by now anyways, his hand wrapped around his dick, guiding the tip of it into you before plunging into you ass. You gasped loudly, a high pitched grunt escaping you at the feel of being so fucking full so suddenly. His hands clenched around your hips, his own relentlessly pounding into you.

“Oh fuck! Yes! Fill me up!” Your moans filled the office as his cock dragged against your walls, it didn’t even matter that he refused to touch you otherwise, this was enough to have you quivering beneath him.

“Louder.” He grunted, “let them all know who’s whore you are.”

“Fuck!” You swore as he plunged into you even hard, “Vada! Yes! More, please more!” His hand came down, spanking at your cheek as he continued to fuck into you heavily. You were already completely wrecked out on his desk, he could feel the heat and wetness dripping from your pussy as his balls slapped into you with each thrust.

“Always take it so good.” He muttered, grunting heavily as he felt his cock twitch within you.

“Fill me up! Please!” Your moans filled his office as he pounded into you, your moans turning into whimpers and whines as you clawed at the desk, your eyes screwed shut as his thrusts became more sporadic, stuttering against you.

“Fuck.” He swore loudly, his cock stilling inside you as his cum shot into you, filling you completely. You groaned out at the feeling and he chuckled at the sight of some of it leaking out around his cock. He shallowly pulled out of you, watching as he fucked the cum back into you, laughing darkly. You heard a clinking nose as he picked up the plug again before pulling completely out of you. You let out a little whimper at the loss, but gasped when he shoved the plug back into you, keeping his cum deep inside of you.

“Fuck…” you moaned.

He swatted at your ass again, wiping at the drops of lube and cum that decorated it with a napkin before pulling your dress back down over your body and tugging you up to standing.

“Go have fun with your friends.” He smirked, pressing a heated kiss to your lips, “but don’t you dare take that out, I want you stuffed with my cum until you’re home tonight. And then? If you’ve behaved maybe I’ll let you come.”

“Yes Vada.” You panted and he smirked, nipping at your lip,

“Well, I’m sure your friends are wondering where you were, can’t keep them waiting.”

Nodding, you whimpered when he spanks at your ass, nudging the plug deeper into you as you teetered your way out of his office on unsteady feet. As long as you were good, you knew that he would reward you once you were home for the night and that was all you wanted right now.

_________ @newyorker14 @detective-giggles @teamsladsandgents @thatesqcrush @witches-unruly-heart @laurenhop @beccabarba @bisexual-dreamer02 @amelia-song-pond @madamsnape921 @whimsicallymad @mrsrafaelbarba @mysticfalls01 @ssaic-jaraeau @caracalwithchips @barbasbodaciousbeard @alwaysachorusgirl @chasingeverybreakingwave @michael-rooker @justanoffalygirl @rafivadafreddy @darkheart-brightsmile heart-brightsmile @prettypyschoinpink @Weexinling

[sej2020]

Fly Away - Chapter 11

Imagine: Bumping Into Barba Unintentionally At A Bar

           You sat in the booth in a new bar that Ramirez had decided to take you to, Ramirez pulled you to sit that close you might as well be in his lap. Ramirez wrapped his arm around the back of you and had settled his hand just on your hip, his other hand rested on the table in front of you grasping his glass, you sat with your hand on Ramirez’s knee your head resting on his shoulder listening to him talk with his men perfectly content. While sat contently however, you failed to notice familiar eyes watching you from his place at the bar.

Barba had wondered into the bar he knew would not be full of cops and lawyers, it was his usual haunt whenever the members of SVU were incompetent at their jobs he would stew here. Ever since Y/N had left he had been spending more and more time here, not recognising anyone simply trying to get away from his current nightmare that seemed to riddle his work, ever since Y/N had left the job. But when sitting down this evening at the usual spot in the corner of the bar Barba was shocked to see you after months sat with Nevada Ramirez with your head on his shoulder looking so content. He boiled with rage at what you had done and what you were currently doing. Grumbling Barba slammed the rest of his drink and go to order another one. In doing so Barba missed Ramirez whispering in your ear and you then glancing over at him, before getting to your feet and wondering over.

           ‘Two tequila shots please’ you ordered when you stood slightly close to Barba.

           ‘Coming up’ said the bartender leaving to fetch your order. You stood there awkwardly before turning and looking at Barba, who looked straight back at you.

           ‘Hello Rafael’ you said softly, flinching when Barba snorted.

           ‘What are you doing here Y/N?’ asked Barba.

           ‘Nevada wanted to go somewhere new’ you shrugged handing over cash for the shots, sliding one over to Barba.

           ‘Oh so it’s Nevada now, didn’t realise you were the type to jump into bed with criminals’ snarked Barba before slamming the shot back.

           ‘And I didn’t realise you were a bitter old man’ you snapped in return before slamming back your own shot.

           ‘Well it would appear we didn’t know that much about each other’ snapped Barba unable to reign in his temper.

           ‘Obviously, you know what Rafael you can be grouchy and immature all you want, but I sure as hell don’t have to stand here and put up with it’ you said turning to walk away.

           ‘Why Y/N? Why Nevada Ramirez of all people? You had a promising career, and you gave that all up to what? Get your leg over become his…’ broke off Barba unable to say the words.

           ‘Become his what… his whore is that what you were going to say, seriously Barba go to hell, pass along my hello to your Father while you’re there’ you snapped before stalking off. Fuming you sat next to Ramirez, making his men glance at you.

           ‘What?’ you snapped grabbing Ramirez’s drink and slamming the rest of it back.

           ‘Get out of here’ snapped Ramirez to his men who left immediately.

           ‘What did he say?’ asked Ramirez after some time in silence.

           ‘Called me a whore’ you said bowing your head trying to stop the angry tears that were forming in your eyes.

           ‘Shh, it’s not true, he’s probably feeling betrayed’ whispered Ramirez wrapping his arm around you.

           ‘That doesn’t give him the right, and why are you suddenly defending him?’ you snapped crossing your arms across your chest.

           ‘Hey I’m only helping, I’d be very careful about what you say next Mami, do you really want to deal with Lewis by yourself, or better yet I could tip him off if I wanted’ snarled Ramirez grabbing hold of your hip firmly as a warning.

           ‘Sorry Vada, I… I’ you broke off unable to contain the tears that spilled down your cheeks.  

           ‘Shh niña, te tengo, no le pasará nada, lo prometo, te tengo cariño. Deja de llorar, te tengo niña te lo prometo’ whispered Ramirez into your ear.

           ‘Nevada, I don’t speak Spanish’ you said chuckling through your tears, making Ramirez chuckle also.

           ‘Made you smile though, look here’ said Ramirez using his free hand to guide your chin so you were looking up at him.

           ‘You are no whore, you and me it’s what we need it to be, now where’s that badass bitch I know you are hmm, don’t let no stupid pig get to you, you’re so much better’ whispered Ramirez making you calm down instantly.

           ‘Thanks Vada’ you whispered with the ghost of a smile on your lips.

           ‘Don’t speak a word of this’ warned Ramirez making you chuckle.

           ‘I wouldn’t dare’ you said smirking, squirming when he pinched you softly.

           ‘Let’s go, I think you need cheering up some more’ said Ramirez motioning for you to get out the booth and head for the exit.

           As you walked out with Ramirez you ignored the glare Barba shot at you, smirking into Ramirez’s shoulder when he slipped his hand into the back pocket of your jeans squeezing your ass gently, just to spite Barba.

[regrettablewritings]

I'm feeling a Nevada Ramirez mood (love that damn asshole) but if you aren't feeling writing for him then I give this up to authors choice. But from the current ships numbers perhaps: 3 (because I wanna get fucked up), 9 (because I have to), 10 (because I would like to know your thoughts) and 11 (because I am wildly curious)

("I'm feeling a Nevada Ramirez mood" Translation: "I want a daddy to spit in my fuckgng mouth" Sorry, I don't make the rules about language translation.🤷🏽‍♀️)

3. Which one outlives the other, and how they cope:

You'd always kind of sort of lived in a fairytale. In hindsight, though, you probably had to: It's what probably made being with his stupid ass a bit easier. Kind of like you were living in one of those stories where a monster that terrorized some bucolic tiny town could be brought down to size by a soul of pure heart. Maybe even regain his human form.

If only your story had had a happy ending.

In a way, Nevada felt he was to blame for that; clearly, sticking with you had really only encouraged that type of behavior, or so he thought.

And now look where that ended you: All that gross-ass makeup to make you look like your last moments hadn't been agonizing (the coroner insisted it had been quick, but Nevada called bullshit); those stiff clothes that you never would've worn unless you had to (Nevada never would've put you in them if he had more of a choice); eyes closed, never to see the telltale signs of the one you left behind coming undone (actually, in a sick way, Nevada didn't necessarily mind this; it spared him the humiliation).

There wasn't even necessarily any sign that you had been targeted; the general theory really was that you'd been taken out by a stray bullet. But in some part of him, Nevada couldn't believe that. He didn't want to. It just made so much perfect sense in his mind: You were just minding your own damn business, walking home after a shift ended a little later than expected. You were the very picture of innocent and unsuspecting, all vulnerable and without him. In short: That was the perfect time for some rival gang or some shit to take a shot at you.

And the thought made Nevada's blood boil to the point that it evaporated into the air, further polluting these fucking New York skies with his inner toxicity being exposed. He'd make whoever did this to you choke. But not before roughing them up a lil bit. Maybe cut off some fingers. Some toes . . . Maybe a pound of flesh as payment if there was any time left, who knows.

But first, his men had to find them.

To say that Nevada does not take your passing well would be an understatement. He's somehow more violent. Somehow a lot less tolerant of bullshit (and he already wasn't before). If anyone so much as blinks wrong, they run the risk of having a nearly feral fuck jump at them and attempt to rip their face off.

His men, who already feared and respected him, dare not occupy the same room as him any longer than they have to. They miss you as a person, of course, but they never knew just how much of a hold you had on their boss until that hand was gone.

Sure, he goes through the usual motions seen in others, like sitting in his chair, downing copious amounts of whatever was left in his liquor cabinet. And, of course, there's the stages of grieving: He's eternally stuck oscillating between guilt and anger.

He was supposed to be the one that got killed out here, him! Not you: Sweet, kind, patient, hard-headed, stupid-assed you! He got that, why couldn't God get with the program on that!? He was the dealer, the gang leader putting himself into all kinds of problems with others; you were just some innocent bystander who happened to get caught in his web, decide they liked it there, and inexplicably stuck around.

And now you're dead. He was being selfish, you were being stupid, and now you were dead.

He stares blankly at nothing before humming with a sip of whatever the hell is in his glass now, he doesn't fucking remember. Can't taste it anyway; his sense of taste disappeared, floated away with your spirit the moment he learned of your passing.

The pure-hearted soul that kept the village safe was gone; all that remained was the carnivorous beast, ready to rampage and raze the town to the ground.

9. Which one swears more?:

Just in time for the 20210 Summer Olympics, we have a new category to observe: Fucking Goddamn Cussing Up a Shitstorm! Representing Washington Heights, we have a cussing prodigy, Nevada Ramirez! Also representing Washington Heights by way of duel citizenship between the apartments, we have . . . You!

Okay but in all seriousness, Nevada is definitely the gold medal-winner here. Science indicates that cussing helps to relieve stress and for as collected as Nevada likes to appear in front of others, 5'9" is not a lot of space for stress to go. He's constantly bottling up that shit! What's worse, though, is that the fucker makes it sound elegant.

How does he make "fuck" sound so gentle when it leaves his lips with a cold-eyed glower!? Who the hell knows!

Erstwhile, you're a pretty good runner-up. Even if you were a big cusser before getting with Nevada, you could never catch up with him -- he's just had way too many experiences where he felt the need to pepper the ambience with some cursing. And if you weren't as into it before . . . I'm sorry, boo, but you'll be picking up that nasty habit of his like you were picking up the torch for the Cussing Olympics. Bon chance!

10. What TV shows they watch together, and which ones they hide from the other:

Noah . . . How did you know I was planning to do a preference on what characters watch with their S/Os? Not that I can confirm or deny that Nevada was in that one but --

Nevada didn't really watch TV a whole lot before you two got together. It was a mix of him not having a lot of time and him not having a lot of care to keep up with anything. Everything is so goddamn serialized, what's even the point?

Really, the only reason he bought subscriptions to streaming services was to keep you entertained for when he had to be out the house or some junk. But there were a few too many times where he'd come home late and find you curled up on the couch.

". . . The hell're you still doing up --"

"Ssh!"

". . . Did you just --"

"Yes, now sshhh! I'm about to see who this chick picks to go to bed with."

Of course, 'Vada is pissed; people don't shush him, he shushes them! What the fuck could be so interesting that you'd do that!? He takes his glare from you to the screen . . . and about thirty minutes in, he gets it. He'd never say it out loud, but deep down, he knows why you like Love Island. It's stupid, it's trashy, he hates these dumbass twenty-somethings making drama out of nothing, and for fuck's sake will somebody talk to the girl with the dark skin and short hair she's the hottest one there --

Of course, he tries hard not to show his interest, taking seats next to you when you're watching "because he's tired", adding his own commentary "because these pendejos need to know better", etc. And, of course, it doesn't fool you in the slightest. As amused as you are, though, you don't tease him about it; you're afraid that if you do, your stubborn boyfriend would put up a fight in the form of leaving you to watch your silly little show by yourself. And you really don't mind sharing the show with him . . . No, solitary watching is reserved for your cartoons.

Nevada may let things with you slip to a point but the moment he learns you like to watch anything animated, he's on your ass with the ruthless taunting. Which is like the pot calling the kettle black because 'Vada's secret pleasure is even worse: daytime soap operas. Admittedly, there's some sentimentality connected to them (he remembers being at his Abuela's house and seeing her get really into some telenovelas), but the fact of the matter is really more that he's invested in the drama and bullshit going on between all this lunatics who we're supposed to buy as being doctors or CEOs or whatever over-glamorized positions they're supposed to have.

He doesn't actually get to watch them often but . . . hey, that's what he pays certain grunts to do for him.

Okay I had way too much fun writing these so lemme just cut myself off now. Thanks for asking!!!

[thatesqcrush]

Ivy & the Ink

Nevada Ramirez x Reader. For VDay bingo, using “Yayo” by Lana del Rey. The wonderful @beccabarba​ requested:  Helloooo! When you have a moment to indulge me, and if you want to, I would love you to write Nevada x Reader in lingerie, with aim of seducing/impressing him (maybe they're a couple and they had a fight, or he's not noticed her before and she's determined he will? And he gives her everything he's got. "Let me put on a show for you daddy Let me put on a show Let me put on a show for you tiger, Let me put on a show... " Please and thank you.

CW: Smut - rough sex (hair pulling, some light smacking, spanking, etc.). There is some degradation talk, destruction of property, name calling, language. 

WC: 4.3K

****

You frowned as you glanced at the clock on the nightstand; it was late and your boyfriend still hadn't arrived at your apartment. It was normal for Nevada to work late, even disappear for a stretch of time. But something about tonight felt different - felt off. 

You reached for the phone and hit the redial number. The phone rang four times before going to voicemail and you sighed as you left yet another message. "Hey papi, it's me; I was just wondering where you were … it's lonely without you here. Just call me when you get this. I love you."

Your guts began to churn as your imagination raced; thoughts of Nevada hurt, or even worse, were the most prevalent. You opened your iPad and pinged his location. He was at the club, but earlier he had been at the airport. You furrowed your brows in confusion. ‘What the…?’ you wondered. 

You grabbed a sweater off the back of the chair with one hand, and your keys with the other. 

You were going to Nevada’s club. 

Any other time, you would not have been so dramatic, but recently things had become more tense;  you argued over the smallest of things. Nevada swore that all was fine between the two of you, but your paranoid side kept itching that something else was amiss. 

As you drove through the dark streets of The Heights, a thought hit you. 'What if Nevada didn't want to come home?' 

Despite the recent hiccups, you vowed to make things work, to make your lives together better because for you, Nevada was worth the sacrifice. He was the great love of your life that was never supposed to have happened in the first place – he was the one.

You met him while celebrating a friend’s bachelorette party - you had a one night stand with him and then on the ride home, you found yourself propositioned by him to be the Queen, to his King. To maintain appearances, you kept your place in Kew Gardens. Nevada had tried to convince you to live with him and let him be the provider for your life, but you refused. You enjoyed earning your own money and having a place of your own. You were loyal to him, but you wanted to keep your own independence. 

**

The drive from Queens did not take as long as you had anticipated. Traffic was fairly light for a Friday evening. You arrived at the club and spotted his black Escalade parked underneath the streetlight. In your jeans and cardigan, you appeared out of place amongst the other club goers who were dressed to the nines. The line wrapped around the block, but you knew you would not have to wait. 

You greeted one of the bouncers, while the rest of the club goers jeered at you and your innocent appearance. “Is Vada here?”

Miguel the bouncer, was burly and intimidating - but he didn’t frighten you one bit. He looked at you and didn’t greet you as he would have usually had.

“Vada’s here.” He replied after a beat, as he waved some people through.

“Last time I checked you weren’t made out of air. Can you move so I can get in?”

“I know for a fact he’s busy. Some personal stuff. You should go home.”

You furrowed your brows, fear lacing through you. Placing your hands on your hips, you jutted your chin at him. “You don’t tell Vada’s woman what to do.”

Miguel turned to you. He dipped his head to your ear, his voice menacing. “You don’t, but Nevada sure as hell does.”

You scoffed. “I am going in.” You pushed past him and he grabbed a hold of the back of your sweater. Instead you allowed for him to rip it off you, as you shoved the sleeves off. You gave him the finger before making your way inside. 

Everything at the club was seemingly normal. The music was loud, you could feel it vibrating in your bones. You pushed your way through the mass of bodies to the staircase which led to Nevada’s private office on the second floor.

The door was opened just a crack and you could see Nevada leaning against his desk, smoking a cigar while in a heated discussion with someone else. This was all normal to you - with the work he was involved in.

A brunette woman approached Nevada and pulled him into a hug causing you to freeze. You expected him to push away, but instead, he returned the hug to this mystery woman. Nevada dipped his head to whisper something in her ear and when he pulled away, you saw him smile and brush her dark hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

Your heart pounded against your chest and you wanted to puke. Chewing on your bottom lip, you continued to watch, unable to turn away. The woman reached for a glass of amber liquid that you realized Nevada had poured her.

At that moment Nevada pulled away and looked at his watch before reaching for his cell phone. He raised a finger to her and the woman nodded watching him as he moved, probably to sit at his desk. Sure enough, your cell phone began to vibrate but you chose to ignore it.

You turned back to the stairs and made your way back down and pushed through to the bar. You grabbed a seat and ordered a beer. You did not recognize the bartender and you realized they must have been a new hire. You were grateful for not being recognized. 

As you took a drag of your beer, the upstairs woman was standing beside you. She offered a friendly smile at you before signaling the barkeep. She ordered a shot of whiskey and handed a five dollar bill with the understanding that he could keep the change.

"You lost?"

You turned to her, eyeing the shot she had in her hand. "Excuse me?"

"Your outfit.” She laughed. “You don’t exactly fit in here."

You arched her brow at her comment. Chuckling, you nodded. "Not lost." With the tilt of your head, you chugged the beer and you tried hard not to grimace as the cheap, likely skunked beer made its way down your throat. 

“So, man trouble?” She guessed. 

“Something like that.” You commented as you ordered a shot of tequila.

You downed the shot, grimacing once more. You wiped your hand on the back of your hand and took in the woman fully. You could see what Nevada saw in her; the mere fact that she too had dark hair, like yours, was eating at you something terrible. Putting the glass down, you forced a sweet smile to the surface as you quickly scanned the bar for any instances of him returning. With no sign of him, you re-centered your focus, your eyes becoming sharp and steadying on her. "Do you have a boyfriend?”

"I do. He’s on his way. And something's got him in the mood tonight, if you get my meaning - he’s on his way actually. He’s like a drug; I can’t get enough.” she winked as she turned her head quickly, her shoulder length curls following her. You scowled as you gripped the glass tighter, your mind running.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the too-warm bar, but your hearing began to ring and your vision was white-hot. Ideas formulated and raced, seeking the perfect retribution. You were hurting, and the only way you could alleviate it would be to inflict that same pain on Nevada. And you knew just how to do it.

Now standing, you spotted Nevada as he approached the bar, the mystery woman waving to him emphatically. Your gaze was fixed on his line of sight, and you postulated that he didn't even see you. The excitement that the mystery woman held served as a knife burrowing deep into your heart, and the intense feeling of getting away increased.

"Hey, where are you going?" the mystery woman asked, turning back to you. You smiled once more and shook your head.

“Like you said, I’m lost. Nice talking to you."

**

Outside, you walked towards your car, the squeak of your sneakers being the only constant sound on the asphalt. Your intentions were clear now, and popping the trunk, you reached in to grab the aluminum baseball bat that you had been meaning to give as a gift for your nephew. Holding it in your hands, you gazed at the bat and felt the weight, swinging it to its full potential. With one hand, you closed the trunk and scanned the street, a devious smile crossing your lips. Your gait became easier as you approached, one thought being dominant as the gleaming Escalade that he so loved stood bathed in the street light.

For a split second, you paused. 'Come off it Y/N. You are better than this. This isn't you at all – you are putting everything on the line.' However, the thought left as quickly as it arrived. You could hear the woman’s comments echo in your mind and you couldn't help but think about what she said, about her and Nevada potentially sharing a bed – the bed you shared with him.

Rage filled you and at that moment, as your heart shattered into a million pieces, you swung the bat down, aiming for the headlights. The sound of glass shattering filled the night and clear crystals decorated the ground. Blood boiling,you swung once more, this time aiming for the side view mirrors. It took a few swings, but you were victorious in denting the metal and cracking the mirrors. Glass crunched underneath your feet as you continued your assault. The line of people still waiting to get in, gasped and shouted, lifting their phones to record you. You didn’t see it happen, but Miguel ran into the bar to get Nevada.

Moments later, you reached for keys that were dug deep in your pocket. You dug your key into the side of the door, scraping it. Figuring the damage you had inflicted still was not enough; you bent down and jammed the key into the back tire, puncturing it. Air hissed out of the tire and you moved to the front of the car, doing the same to the front tire.

You smiled in satisfaction as you took a step back to assess the damage you had done.

Nevada ran over to where you were standing, taking in the damage you had inflicted on his car. His eyes were wide and his face was beet red.

"Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?" Nevada yelled. You looked up and muttered an expletive as you dropped the bat, it clanking to the ground.

"What am I doing? I should be asking you the same thing! Actually, I don't have to since your whore told me what you two have been, and would be, doing!"

The mystery woman stepped out of the club and her eyes also widened as she recalled you from the bar.

"Puta!” You screamed as you grabbed the bat and swung at the car once more.

Nevada wrestled the bat out of your hands. Instead you chose to start punching and hitting him instead. He looked over his shoulder at Miguel. “Get Marisol out of here.”

“Oh that bitch has a name?” You shrieked once more. Nevada wrapped his strong arms around you, lifting you easily off the ground.

"Let me go!" you furiously replied as Nevada dragged you back into the bar. "You cheated on me!"

Nevada was quiet as he dragged you up to the office. His blood was boiling and as he kicked the door in. He dropped you unceremoniously on the couch.

Nevada slammed the door behind him. “What the fuck Y/N!”

You looked at him incredulously, your eyes were red and swollen. “You cheated on me!”

Nevada sighed. “It’s not what you think it is.”

“I saw you with my own eyes! I am not stupid!” You shouted. “When you didn’t come home, didn’t answer my texts, I tracked your phone. You were at the airport and then you came to the club. What is that all about? God, I can’t believe I let myself fall for you. I must be stupid after all!” 

You were now openly sobbing on his couch. “I thought you loved me.”

Nevada raised his hands to the back of his head, his eyes wide; he shook in anger, his face was beet red. "I do love you, you fucking loca. She’s my cousin.”

You stared at him, hiccupping. “What?” 

“She’s my cousin - she flew in to visit. She needed a ride from the airport since her boyfriend was put on a double. He’s a cop. I went to pick her up and then brought her here.”

“Your cousin.” You whispered. Everything suddenly made sense.

“I was not, nor would I ever, cheat on you. I want you, you crazy bitch.” Nevada grumbled.

“Then why was Miguel acting so shady?” You demanded. “He made it seem like I couldn’t be there.”

“Fuck if I know.” Nevada snorted. He poured himself a drink and then one for you. As he handed it to you, you eyed the blue inked snake tattoo on his forearm. You tilted the glass all the way back, drinking it in a single gulp. “You know your beer lines are skunked.” You replied quietly, still hiccupping.

“Noted.” Nevada replied quietly. He made a call, speaking in Spanish, which you didn’t understand. As he put his phone away, he sighed. “Let me take you back to Queens. They’re bringing up another car.”

**

Another black Escalade rolled up, identical to its predecessor - except not damaged. The ride was quiet and sufficiently awkward. Now in your apartment, Nevada shrugged off his clothes, leaving himself in just his boxer briefs. You washed your face and then shrugged off your clothes. Nevada climbed into the bed after you, and you were out like a light as soon as your head hit the pillow, exhausted.

**

In the morning, you woke up to the smell of eggs frying and strong coffee. You got out of the bed and followed the smell to the kitchen where Nevada was cooking. 

You stood on your tip toes and peered around his shoulder. “Smells good.”

Nevada let out a grunt. You frowned and wrapped your arms around him from behind. “I’m sorry for last night.”

Nevada turned to you, and turned off the stove. “I’m sorry too. I should have told you.”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your eyes were lost in the green pool of his eyes.

“You hungry?” Nevada asked.

“In a little bit - I want to go shower.” You replied. “Start without me.”

Nevada nodded and plated some food before going to sit on your couch. 

After you showered, you took your time trying to figure out what to wear. You pulled open your delicate drawer and began to leaf through the various garments. Your fingers traced over a lingerie set you hadn’t yet worn and you smiled. 

**

Nevada was still puttering around the kitchen when you joined him once more. 

“Hungry yet?” He called out from behind his shoulder, not looking over fully as he dumped the frying pan into the sink. You saw that he had a plate of food set for you but you weren’t hungry for that - not at least in that moment.

“Something like that.” You cooed. Nevada turned around and as he drank you in, the corners of his mouth twitched. 

You wore a mauve babydoll chemise set with silver lace trim and rhinestones embellishments. There was a sheer wrapped skirt and a matching panty with a thick lace band and thong cut out. You hadn’t washed your hair, just freshened it up with dry shampoo and you left it loose, the way he liked it. Your face was bare, except for a sheer plum lip tint. For what you wanted to do, lipstick would have just gotten in the way.

“Is this for me mami?” Nevada asked. His eyes were darkened with lust and through his briefs, you could tell that his cock had come to life, already straining against the fabric.

“Yes papi.” You cooed. “I wanted to show how sorry I was for everything. Let me put on a show for you daddy.” You trailed a hand across your decolletage and then down to the swells of your breasts that were already pushed up to an obscene limit thanks to the underwire and padding of the bra. 

“I should punish you.” Nevada growled. He didn’t miss how your eyes lit up at the suggestion. He took three wide strides to meet you. He ran a sole finger down your cheek and your eyes fluttered closed in response. That was short-lived as a sharp jolt of pain caused your eyes to fly open. Your head was bent to the side, your hair wound in Nevada’s fist. 

“Yes.” You breathed out, a shot of arousal shooting through you. “I need you. Take me right now.”

“I can’t believe you thought I would cheat on you. Why would I do that, when I have these nalgas right here?” Nevada growled, using his other hand to pull you close by grabbing the flesh of your ass. He let loose his grip in your hair and his other hand joined in rolling the fat of your cheeks. 

You could feel his hardened member press against the softness of your belly. The feeling caused your cunt to kick and your panties to dampen.

Nevada’s mouth dropped to the slope of your neck, the stubble of his beard grazing your skin. He sucked a dark mark into your skin. You let out a soft moan at the sensation as he continued to rub his beard against your skin, leaving rash marks in its wake.

He spun you around roughly, so your back was to his chest. You could feel the soft curls of his chest hair against your back. He cupped your tits roughly together, before pulling the cups down so your tits spilled out. He grabbed them roughly again, rolling and pinching your nipples until they were hardened buds. 

You pushed back against his cock, gyrating in small circles. Nevada held you against him, his heavy, muscled arm wrapped around your chest. He used his foot to nudge your legs apart and his other hand went to your pussy. He gripped it hard and you let out a small squeak. 

“This is my pussy, me entiendes?” Nevada growled in your ear. 

You let out a gasp as he pushed your underwear to the side and sunk his fingers up and into you. The strokes were initially languid, but then they increased in speed. You lolled your head back and his mouth found your neck once more, sucking a bruise into your flesh. 

Nevada removed his fingers from you and you whimpered. He brought his hand to your face and you could see the evidence of your arousal on his long digits. He released his other arm and brought his hand to your throat, gently tightening. He rubbed his fingers on your lips before pushing them roughly in your mouth. You let out a muffled moan as you cleaned his fingers. 

“Muy bien.” Nevada growled. He grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom. He wasted no time removing his briefs. His cock stood proud. The crown glistened with pre cum and you instinctively licked your lips, needing to feel the weight of his cock against your tongue.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you down so that you were on your knees and eye level with his cock. “Open your mouth.” He dragged his cock across your lips and instinctively they parted, ready to take his length into your mouth.

“Open wide mama. Gonna make you choke on this cock.”

You let out a squeak as he smacked his cock against your cheek. You opened your mouth wider and Nevada fed you his cock. He wrapped his hands around the back of your head and he pushed into your mouth further until your nose was nestled against the soft curls of his pubic hair. Your tongue lavished every vein and ridge. You used one hand to stroke him as you bobbed along his length. Spit was dribbling from the corners of your mouth and down your lingerie 

His hands gripped your head more tightly, holding you in place. Thrusting his hips forward, Nevada fucked into the back of your throat rough and fast, the sound of you choking and spluttering around him was drowned out by his grunts and groans. Spit covered your chin and your eyes watered, with tears running down your face. All you could do was close your eyes and take it. He took a step back and you gasped as air filled your lungs again. Nevada gave you a lascivious grin and he stroked your cheek, wiping a tear away. 

“Such a good girl taking my cock like that.” He praised and you keened in response. He offered his hand and he helped you stand.

Nevada claimed your mouth his. It was rough, all teeth and tongue. He nibbled on your lower lip before sucking on it. When he released your mouth, he gripped your cheeks with his forefinger and thumb and squeezed.

“I am going to fuck you now and you’re going to thank me for it.” He released your face and then gave you a small tapping smack on your cheek. 

You jutted your face at him and he did it again. “Get on the bed, loca.”

“How do you want me?” You asked as you scooted back on the bed.

“Por detrás. Take off the rest of your clothes.”

You did so and got on all fours, anticipating Nevada’s next move. You felt the bed dip with his weight and felt his cock rub against your ass. You heard the cap of a bottle open, followed by the sound of him slathering his cock. Two fingers then pressed against you and in you, massaging your walls. You dropped your head forward, moaning slightly.

“Is that what my puta likes? Getting fucked?” Nevada hissed. His mouth was on your ass, biting your flesh, marking you once more. 

“I need you.” You whined. “Give it to me.”

Nevada acquiesced and slid into your hot, wet cunt without warning, until he was fully seated. His hips nestled against the curve of your asscheeks and he gripped your hips hard. He set a pace, hard and fast as he wrapped a hand around your waist to pull you down onto his cock so it was nudging at your cervix with every thrust. He was deep and the stretch his girth gave you was glorious. A dreamy smile came across your face and you gripped the mattress below tightly. No one fucked you as well as Nevada did.

“Next time you think I would cheat on you, remember this.” Nevada growled as he drove his cock in and out of you. A sharp smack landed on your ass and then he repeated it on the other cheek, over and over again. The spanks that followed were delivered just as harshly, maybe even more so. He purposely hit your skin in the same areas as before. Your ass was red, hot and stinging.

“Fuck, oh yes, papi!” you whined. Nevada chuckled darkly. He had a knowing smile on his face.

“You want to cum, huh, mama?” 

“Please.” You begged. A hand slipped from your hips and found your clitoris, rubbing roughly. 

“You wanna cum on papi’s cock?” he asked once more, his breathing staggered.“Alright ma’, you can cum.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond as your walls clenched violently around his cock, gripping as your orgasm washed over you. 

As you came down from your high, Nevada had pushed you all the way down onto the bed, his weight completely on top of you. The changed position meant his thrusts were more shallow. You relished the feel of him on you. Primal, animalistic grunts were in your ear as he chased his own release.

You felt his hips still and with a roar, he pushed into you once more, spilling his hot load into you. 

Nevada leaned up on his arms, so his weight wasn’t fully on you. He pressed a kiss along your sweaty back before flopping over onto his back. You felt him pull you into his arms and you just allowed yourself to curl into him.

“Vada?” You murmured, as you stroked his chest hair.

“Yeah, mama?”

You looked up at him. “I’m sorry for everything, but especially for fucking up the car. Is it completely damaged out?”

Nevada shook his head as he sat up and grabbed a cigar from the stand next to you. He blew out a puff of smoke. “Nah, I got someone fixing it up already. By tomorrow it’ll be good as new.”

“I owe your cousin an apology.”

Nevada grunted. “You make one hell of an impression Y/N.” He pulled you tightly against him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 FIN

*****

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[prurientpuddlejumper]

Guerrerita

Part 2 ->

Summary: Nevada takes you out on a fancy date and things go poorly.

Nevada Ramirez x Feral Female Reader

Warnings: allusions to domestic violence but no actual domestic violence, just some assumptions based on Nevada being generally an asshole.  A bit of regular violence though. (OK, you know that trope where the Honorable Tough Guy beats up a stranger’s abusive husband to teach him a lesson?) Mature content, but no smut this chapter.

1,796 words

While most people would consider a romantic dinner at a sophisticated restaurant relaxing, everything about it had you on edge. It was too fancy for you to belong there, even in the elegant dress Nevada bought for you. The dress was too form-fitting, too low-cut. It made your cleavage look ample, and though you were getting accustomed to wearing such pieces in your new employment, your confidence in the feminine was still lacking.

You hunkered low in your seat, trying to be as small as possible so no one would look at you. Of course your nervous fidgeting only made them look more.

Not helping matters was your date, sitting across from you at the small, intimate dining table. Nevada Ramirez cocked his brow sarcastically as he made an inappropriately sexual comment about the aforementioned dress, and the aforementioned way your breasts looked in it.

“It’s almost distracting enough that you don’t notice the—” he gestured at your face with a mocking smirk, and laughed almost cruelly as he saw your eyes flash wide. 

Your jaw clenched and you thought of a million biting comebacks you could shoot at him, and briefly envisioned flipping over the table and decking him, but instead you shrunk further in your chair.

“Come on, guerrerita, don’t be like that,” he frowned. He seemed genuinely upset that you were shriveling instead of being riled into taking his bait.

Never in a million years would you have imagined yourself with an asshole like Nevada. Vulgar, loud, rough around the edges. A gang leader who earned the nickname of a ruthless dictator. But your life had been in a downward spiral, and Trujillo found you at the bottom of it. He recruited you into the crime family, and gave you a purpose when everything in your law-abiding life was falling apart.

It was a recent development that you’d admitted your feelings for each other, and until now your relationship (outside of work) had been limited to passionate, desperate, intense sex. Fucking Trujillo was like fucking the illegal fireworks he sold, but this was the first time you’d allowed yourself to be seen out in public with him—in decent company, anyway.

He’d insisted on taking you out to celebrate with something nice, just the two of you. None of his men lurking over your shoulders. Something he thought you’d want, even though all you wanted was to go back to the Heights and rip his clothing off. Now you were too pissed off and embarrassed to even want to fuck him.

You thought he might tone himself down for the upscale venue, but Vada had been his usual obnoxious self all night, and more genteel diners were glaring. Honestly, this was why you couldn’t stand him at first, even though he was incredibly handsome. But his boorish exterior belied a cunning, organized businessman who had all of Washington Heights under his thumb, who earned his community’s loyalty through fear, yes, but ultimately, by taking care of them. There was, underneath the showy performances of flippant laughter and casual brutality, a certain sensitivity you had grown keenly protective of. 

He saw the value in things others overlooked. He recognized all the anger and pain stamped inside you behind those mild suburban manners—things polite society considered flaws—and told you that you were exactly what he needed. That those things were an asset to him. That you were valuable. 

No one ever said that to you before. 

You weren’t in love with him. He would always be a ruthless criminal, and one day you’d want your normal life back. But you had grown… attached.

One of the glaring diners was eyeing Nevada with particular suspicion, not just briefly glancing up when he laughed too loud or made a rude remark to the waiter. He shot Vada a profoundly dirty look and held it long enough to raise your hackles. He sat at the bar about four table lengths away, had shoulder-length hair, a messy stubble beard, and a solid physical build. You would have mistaken him for a surfer except you were on the wrong coast, and your instincts told you he was dangerous. You quietly assessed the potential threat while maintaining your meek posture low in the chair. A cop? Or a rival gang leader? Unlikely to make a move inside the restaurant with so many witnesses. You’d watch the exits when it was time for the check.

The waiter brought the main course to the table, and blessedly, digging into a meal finally shut up Nevada’s feisty tongue. Instead of sleazy remarks, he made small-talk about how good everything tasted. Maybe it wasn’t just having his mouth stuffed that mellowed him. There was a softness in his eyes now—a look reserved for when you were alone together, when he knew something was bothering you. You guessed he finally caught on that you were not having a good time.

Nevada never took anything seriously, until suddenly he did. You’d seen him throw opponents off balance by dropping from sardonic laughter to spine-chilling hostility, and the effect was equally potent when he dropped into affection.

His foot bumped into your leg—those shiny black leather shoes that looked like someone cut off a tacky cowboy boot at the ankle—and slowly brushed against it under the table. It wasn’t an aggressively sexual maneuver, just an affectionate contact letting you know he was there. It worked. You lanced a slice of filet mignon on your fork, and felt your shoulders relax with his change in attitude. It was a simple gesture, but the warmth of his leg spread tingling waves through your skin, making your face flush. A private, intimate moment, like a sharing secret. That was the most thrilling part of the relationship, really—the secret that the fearsome Trujillo had a tender side. In a way, you were like two opposite halves that fit together perfectly.

Before long, you were comfortable enough to start gushing about the day’s victory you were there to celebrate, and the staring stranger had slipped entirely from your mind.

***

You excused yourself to use the bathroom, and as you washed your hands in the mirror, you got a good look your swollen black eye. You’d taken a glove to the face hard, but it opened your opponent’s guard and let you hit them back harder until they went down, and you walked away with prize money from the biggest tournament you’d ever won. Nevada was so turned on by your aggression, it took all his willpower not to barge into the locker room and fuck you right then and there. Instead, he treated you to dinner at a nice place like a gentleman, which was a very sweet, if misguided effort.

The bruise had spread and darkened in the hours since you received it, and your makeup no longer did anything to hide it. And there you were all innocent, in a cute little dress, slouching nervously across from a character from Breaking Bad. Oh fuck, no wonder everyone was giving him dirty looks.

An icy fist clenched around your heart as you remembered surfer-hair sitting at the bar, and you suddenly didn’t feel right about leaving Nevada unguarded. You shook the water off your hands and rushed back out into the dining area.

You were just being paranoid, of course. No one would start a fight in the middle of the restau—

Fuck.

Your table was empty. And so was that spot at the bar.

Worst-case scenarios ran through your head and your field of vision narrowed. A waiter hurried past with a tray of dirty dishes and you grabbed him by the arm hard enough for several plates to go flying as you whipped him around. “Did you see where the man at that table went?!” you demanded, pointing.

Indignant protests died half-formed on the surprised waiter’s lips and turned to terror at your intensity. “I-I think he went out to smoke! The side door!”

You dropped his arm without a thank you and marched with purpose to the door, which pushed open into a dim back alley.

“If you ever lay a hand on her again—” surfer-hair was snarling, pinning Nevada against the side of a metal dumpster, fist raised about to strike. 

Nevada’s lip was bleeding, but he wore a cocky grin, letting fly a string of filthy Spanish expletives. 

“You think it’s funny beating on a helpless girl? Let’s see how you like it.”

Nevada was scrappy, but not especially large. He’d gotten in a few hits, but was losing, badly. He was more the brains of his criminal operation, which was why he was always accompanied by protection. And now you were seeing red.

The man got off another punch to Nevada’s smirking face before you could reach them, the dull impact unlocking a boiling rage that rose in your blood and turned you into someone you wouldn’t recognize once the heat had passed. As he reared back for another, you used his momentum to keep him sailing backwards, off balance. 

“DON’T YOU”—you kicked him in the chest, staggering him back—“FUCKING TOUCH HIM!” you roared. 

Carrying forward on the momentum of the kick, you threw your entire body into punch after brutal punch, hissing and snarling like an animal, driving him back and down, your primal fury relishing the sensation of fists slamming into solid flesh and bone. You were going to break this fucker for daring to hurt Trujillo. “I will kill you! I will kill you!” you screamed, thrashing him in a relentless onslaught that never gave him an opening to regain his footing. The man might have given a better showing, but he was still recovering from the shock of being beaten senseless by a demon he had assumed was a fragile soul in need of rescuing.

You felt a hand grasp your shoulder and threw a vicious elbow, stopping yourself inches before seeing whose nose it was you were about to shatter. “Princesa, princesa—calmate. Tranquila, baby girl…” he cooed, pulling you off.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” you kept shrieking, legs and arms kicking out at the air, trying to continue raining blows down on your enemy as Nevada restrained you. You struggled against Nevada’s arms, your hammering pulse chanting murder in your ear, but never striking a blow against him. Even in a blind rage, your instincts recognized he was yours to protect.

In the way his long fingers gripped you, the rhythm of his breath in your ear, and how close he held his body firm against you, he was clearly turned on. 

He cackled at the would-be do-gooder. “You don’t wanna mess with an MMA champ’s boyfriend, comemierda. I don’t think she’s kidding! Better run while you can.”

“Alright, alright, Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, guarding his face. “Who the hell are you people?”

Nevada’s smile could have split his face in two. “She’s my bodyguard.”

[inactive-shroomiehomie]

Cramps

Warnings: menstruation

Pairing: Nevada Ramirez x Reader

Summary: It's that time of the month for the reader and they need some stuff. Nevada has no idea what he's doing, but he's trying his best okay.

Word Count: 772

A/N: I'm dead serious when I say this, I had a dream about this scenario and now I'm putting it into writing. Also, Nevada is slightly annoying to write for lol. Also after my last post, I think you guys could use a little fluff! :]

The sound of your painful whimpering made Nevada bolt up out of his sleep. He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and looked around the room for you. His face scrunched up slightly and he rolled out of bed, grabbing his boxers off of the floor. He pulled them on and walked out of his bedroom to look for you.

"Mami? Where you at?" He called, "Whatsa matter?"

Your whines could be heard from the bathroom before you spoke, "I-In here, 'Vada."

Nevada made his way to the bathroom door and started to open it before you spoke again.

"No! Don't... don't come in here."

He looked at the door like it had just smacked him, "Why the fuck not? Did someone hurt you?”

“No.” You sighed, “No, just-just come in.”

Nevada flung open the bathroom door to see you curled up into yourself next to the bathtub. He was at your side in two strides, kneeling down to cup your face and assess the situation.

“Hermosa, what’s going on with you?” Nevada’s words were caring, but his tone seemed more defensive than anything.

You sniffled, wrapping your arms tighter around your torso. “It’s just,” You paused, looking up into his woodland moss colored eyes. “That time of the month for me...ya know?”

Nevada stared at you for a moment. You shriveled a bit under his gaze. Was he mad at you? Did he think you were disgusting? You didn’t know what to think until he carefully scooped you up in his arms. You whimpered at the new angle, your insides feeling like a knife was continuously being twisted within them.

“‘Vada what-”

“You could have just started out with that.” He scoffed, walking you both out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom. “You had me thinking some fucker broke in here and hurt you.”

A visible pout formed on your lips and you pressed into his chest. “I’m sorry, Nevada. I thought you would’ve been disgusted with me or...” You let your words trail off.

Nevada gently sat you in the bed, pulling the blankets over you. He leaned over you, putting both arms on either side of your body to look you in the face.

“I grew up in a house full of woman. You think I don’t know how this stuff works?” You didn’t respond, you just snuggled deeper into the blankets, “And you are far from disgusting, Hermosa. Now the things you do with me in this bed? You’re fuckin filthy.”

This made you giggle, but the jolt of movement to your torso made you whimper. Nevada pressed a gentle kiss to your temple and sat up, walking across the room for a shirt. He threw a random maroon t-shirt on and tossed you his phone.

“Type in all the stuff you need, or want, or whatever. I’ll have Miguel drive me around to find what you gotta have.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You spoke up, grabbing the phone in your hand.

“The fuck I don’t.” He laughed sarcastically. “I’m not just going to stand by and listen to you moan and groan over something you can’t control without doing something about it.”

You smiled weakly, unlocking his phone and typing out what you need into his notes app. Just the usual toiletries and a few comfort snacks. When you were finished, Nevada took the phone back from you and shoved it in his pocket. He was already fully dressed with his signature brown, leather jacket. You crawled over to the other side of the bed to be closer to his and sat up on your knees.

“You’re the sweetest, Nevada.”

Nevada’s typical smirk looked like more of a smile now as he walked over to you, threading his hands in the back of your hair and placing a deep kiss on your lips. You returned the action, smiling into the kiss. No tongue or anything. Nevada pulled back and looked you in the eyes.

“And you’re the only one who’s allowed to know.”

You snickered at him. The Heights may see this man who could kill you with a glance, but the Nevada you see can be pretty selfless and soft. Before he left the house, he tucked you back into bed- even giving you his pillow to put below your back. He made sure you had a bottle of pain killers at the bed side and left, promising he would be back as soon as possible.

You took a couple of pain killers for your cramps and laid back down, a soft smile on your face as you tried to drift off.

[tinyboxxtink]

Can you do nevada x reader with a breeding kink?! Like, not necissarily a “lets have a kid” smut but a “imma make you mine, fill you up” kinda thing? Cause vada isnt the kid type..👀🔥

Alright I decided to hit two birds with one stone.

Answering this ask AND hitting a square on @storiesofsvu bingo!

"You're mine...and I don't share,"

This one was kinda fun, you're right you don't see a lot of "Papa Vada". 😂

[Some naughty bits under the cut.]

—----------

You and your boyfriend Nevada Ramirez were getting into it pretty hot and heavily on his huge leather couch. He was practically skipping when he had gotten home that night; something about a huge deal “between the families” being made, lots of money, you had pretty much learned to tune him out by now. All you knew was that he came home happy, and that always meant good things for you.

So now here you were, practically gnawing a hole into Vada’s neck while he undid your bra, cupping your breasts and immediately sticking one in his mouth as soon as they were free. You let out a moan of pleasure as you felt his long digits now running up your thighs, sticking one inside you under your panties. You two were so in sync it was like a dance. Each of you knew what step came next; and you were reaching the crescendo. 

Nevada picked you up never letting up from suckling on your breasts and rubbing your clit with one of his thumbs. However once you reached the bedroom, he tossed you like a rag doll onto his silk sheets while he feverishly ripped off his pants. You expected him to go into his little beside drawer before leaping back onto you, but he didn’t. 

“Whoa whoa whoa there, papi,” you put a hand up. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

“Que?” He asked more in aggression than an actual question. “The fuck are you on about, mujer?” 

“A condom, Vada,” you nodded to the drawer. 

“Oh, si,” Vada nodded softly himself, now looking a little nervous. 

“...You forgot to buy more, didn’t you?” You tried not to sound angry, but you were already starting to finish yourself to avoid the painful twinges of edging. 

“No, I have some I just thought—” He finally looked at you with a mischievous grin. “What if we don’t use one?”

“Are you– are you fucking serious?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the notion. Nevada Ramirez, the most cautious and paranoid lover you had ever been with, wanted to suddenly ride bareback?

“Si, what’s funny about that?” he asked in a quickly rising annoyed tone. 

“Vada you did take biology in school, right?” You tried stifling your laughter.

“Yes Y/N I fucking know what happens when a man and woman have a ‘special hug’,” Nevada rolled his eyes, trying to control his anger. “So?”

“So?” your laughter completely ceased at the question. You looked at him very seriously, searching his eyes for some sincerity, or explanation.

“You…do you wanna have a kid?” you asked him waringly.

“No!” Nevada waved his hands in a giant X sign. “Not right now. Not ever, maybe,” 

“Okay baby I really don’t think now is the time for the ‘family planning’ talk,” you tried playing it off with a laugh, but he was really starting to freak you out. 

“You’re on the pill, aren’t you?” he asked.

“.... Yeah?” You replied. 

“So? That’s a safety net, yes?” He made a point. 

“Well yeah, but–” you started to protest but he put a finger over your lips. 

“I just want to fill you up inside one time, mi vida,” he stroked your hair very softly. He was good with the manipulating; the puppy dog eyes and the pout making their appearances next.

“You’re such a sweet talker, Vada,” you rolled your eyes. 

“I wanna know some of me is inside of you, Y/N,” He kept his serious but soft register. “Because you’re mine…and I don’t share,”

“I’m sorry, do you think I’m 'sharing' myself with anyone else, pendejo?” You smacked his hand away in anger. 

“No!” He grabbed your hands and returned you to his side. 

“No, I just…fuck, I really suck at this,” He looked down and away from you, clearly arguing with himself.

“At what?” You raised an eyebrow while trying to read his mind. 

“At…this,” he gestured between the two of you. “I’ve never had a…girl, who stays around all the time,” 

“A girlfriend?” You snorted. “Vada you’ve had plenty of girlfriends, don’t even try–”

“No, no es novia,” he interrupted you. “A girl who stays…ALL the time,” 

You studied his face very closely, trying to piece together what he was obviously having a meltdown trying to communicate. Then it dawned on you. 

“...A wife?” you asked softly, making his inner monologue seemed to cease. He looked up at you, unable to reply.

“Do you think you have to get me pregnant to marry you, Nevada?” You asked him in a somewhat defensive tone. “Do you think you have to ‘trap’ me into a marriage with you?” 

“No! I don’t….quien sabe,” He sighed, now looking at the floor. 

You waited several seconds trying to process what was happening before you. Nevada Ramriez, the scariest drug lord in New York, hell maybe the United States, was scared that you wouldn’t want to marry him?

“Vada…” You picked up his chin with your thumb, looking into his emerald green eyes. “I’m never gonna leave you. Kid or no kid,” 

“Si? Realmente? Para siempre?” The words flew out his mouth rapidly as he tried to accept what you were saying. 

“Si, realmente, para siempre,” you repeated the words back to him in a teasing manner before pulling him into a kiss. 

“I’m yours, for as long as you’ll have me, papi,” you pressed your forehead against his before kissing him once more.

“Bueno,” Vada smiled into your mouth before you pulled away.

“But…the you ‘filling me’ thing still sounds pretty hot,” You bit your lip with a wicked smile. 

“Muy bueno,” He growled lustfully before pulling your now naked body on top of him to resume your naughty shenanigans. 

You could always buy Plan B in the morning.

[sej2020]

Fly Away - Chapter 10

Imagine: Keeping An Eye Out On Barba When Some Threats Come In

You sat at the bar in Ramirez’s club, keeping to yourself while Ramirez went and dealt with some business in the back rooms. As you sipped your beer watching Ramirez’s men flirt with the girls, you saw one of the guys you knew to be a dirty cop make his way towards you. As he settled down in arrogance smelling of smoke and stale sweat you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

‘You were the last person I thought would ever be a dirty cop’ smirked Lewis at you.

‘Mmm, and why’s that exactly?’ you said with little interest.

‘You’re a straight shooter, as straight as that bastard Tucker, so I’m intrigued as to why you of all people turned into a bent cop’ said Lewis leeringly making your skin crawl.

‘I really don’t think that’s anything to do with you’ you snapped bristling.

‘Isn’t it, your friends with that Spanish dandy Barba right, I’ve got a good thing going here, should anything happen to ruin that, well Barba’s not going to be wearing those suits he loves to wear’ said Lewis before sauntering off.

‘Asshole’ you muttered into your drink, as you sipped your drink Ramirez finally joined you.

‘Hey there Mami, come join me on the couch’ said Ramirez brushing his lips at your ear as his hand rested on your lower back right above your ass.

Smiling you followed Ramirez over to the roped off couch’s in the corner of the club, Ramirez’s men were already there with drinks spread out on the table. Sitting down in the love seat, Ramirez guided you so that you sat tucked between him and the couch arm, with your legs draped over his lap. As you sat Ramirez traced his hand up and down the inside of your jean covered thigh, suckling the skin under your ear with his lips.

‘What’s wrong?’ whispered Ramirez his hand sliding up and down your back under your shirt when he didn’t feel you respond how you usually did.

‘It’s nothing, don’t worry’ you whispered back pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek.

‘You don’t need to lie to me Mami, I saw you speak to Lewis what did that bastard want?’ asked Ramirez grabbing a hold of your chin and forcing your face to look at him.

‘He threatened to harm Barba should anything happen, I don’t think he was referring to the you know’ you said softly using a hand to trail through the hair at the back of his head.

‘Hmm, let’s go, you need to check on him, so let’s go’ said Ramirez kissing your lips.

Both of you got to your feet, Ramirez took hold of your hand entwining your fingers you allowed him to pull you along behind him. As you both passed Lewis, Ramirez tugged you into his body wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding your head onto his shoulder as you continued out the club.

‘Vada?’ you asked as you settled into the back of the SUV.

‘To protect you, I don’t condone rape’ smirked Ramirez as you watched his body language. ‘Now this man who’s clearly captured your heart, where would he be?’

‘Forlleni’s and he doesn’t have my heart’ you said allowing Ramirez to pull you to him.

‘Right we’ll go check up on him, then we need to discuss how you’re going to bring him down without bringing me down hmm?’ asked Ramirez trailing his hand under your  shirt along your stomach.

‘Yeah, we do, Nevada, thanks I think’ you said hesitantly.

‘You can make it up to me tonight Mami and for the record he does have your heart’ said Ramirez giving you a sultry kiss to your lips.

Pulling up on the opposite side to the car Ramirez leaned over you and unwound the window. Looking out you could make out Barba sat at the bar writing furiously, the sight made your lips twitch into a fond smile. As you watched Barba you felt Ramirez shuffle close to you slipping a hand into yours that you didn’t realise were clenching in your lap.

‘See he’s all ok Mami, let’s go, you look like a deranged stalker if we stay longer’ said Ramirez pressing soft kisses under your ear, nibbling at your skin.

‘Yeah lets go’ you whispered letting Ramirez lean over and do up the window.

As the SUV drove away you pulled Ramirez to you in a dirty kiss, drawing you into his lap so you were straddling him. You both continued to kiss you ran your hands through his hair while Ramirez’s hands roamed your body under your shirt, leaving a hot trail behind them.

‘Oh Mami, you’re going to be the death of me, you want to forget for a little bit?’ asked Ramirez pressing kisses under your ears suckling your skin.

‘Please’ you whimpered being pulled back into another dirty kiss.

‘Let’s get back to mine’ whispered Ramirez biting your bottom lip, licking it after tangling your tongues together in a fierce kiss as you both made out the rest of the way to Ramirez’s apartment.

[madpanda75]

A fic idea for nevada or Barba where you bring home an abandoned cat or dog and they're just super grumbly about it and don't like it and then end up jealous because you spend all your time and energy with the pet before they eventually come round

First of all, @walkingsnowman, you have the patience of a saint!  I’m combining this with @thatesqcrush‘s request “Pipe the fuck down, asshole” from the “five word prompt list.” Thank you guys soooo much for your requests! I’m sorry it took me forever to write.

Hope you all like this! Get ready for fluffy soft Nevada (well….maybe not so fluffy).  ❤️

Check out Part Two 

“The Negative” Part One

Place the test stick on a flat surface with the windows facing up for two minutes. Following the instructions exactly, you gingerly placed the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter as if it were a ticking bomb, afraid any sudden movements would cause a catastrophic explosion. Staring down at the test, watching the light blue color swirl across the windows, you silently willed time to move faster. Perhaps it was like that old saying, “A watched pot never boils.”

You stepped back from the bathroom counter and sat on the edge of the tub, picking a hangnail and ruining your new manicure. Two minutes. 120 seconds. In such a short span of time, your life could change completely. This shouldn’t have been a complete surprise. It’s not like you and your boyfriend, Nevada, were careful when it came to using birth control. But were you ready to be someone’s mother? Were you ready to start a family? A family with Nevada Ramirez. Trujillo, himself. The King of the Heights. This was all happening so fast.

You glanced down at your phone and saw two minutes had passed. Taking a deep breath, you walked up to the counter and picked up the test. There it was, a single vertical line. The test was negative. Rather than breathe a sigh of relief, you grabbed another test stick from one of the several boxes you had purchased that morning, not quite trusting the results from the test you just took. The last thing you needed was a false negative and then end up on a crazy reality show where the women don’t realize they’re pregnant until they go to the bathroom and out popped a baby. Nope, better take a few more, just to be sure.

You took three more tests, it was amazing how you could generate enough pee for all of them . All of the tests read the same result. Negative. You should have been doing the happy dance. It should have felt like the weight of the world was lifted off your shoulders, but instead you were disappointed in your body for not being able to get pregnant. Your heart sank.

You quickly threw the tests in the garbage. Sitting on the edge of the tub, you took in large gulps of air, struggling to breathe, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. It felt like the walls were closing in on you. The room was spinning. You had to get out of that apartment. Grabbing the garbage, you threw on a pair of flip flops, took your keys from the counter and left your home, in dire need of fresh air. After tossing the evidence of your wasted afternoon in the dumpster, you started to walk, ignoring the dark ominous clouds looming overhead.

How long had you been walking? You lost count by the twentieth block. For the past week thoughts of babies had been running through your head: kissing chubby cherub cheeks, tickling your son or daughter’s belly making them laugh and squeal in delight, rubbing your nose against the top of their head, inhaling that sweet intoxicating smell that all newborns seemed to have.

Your mind then drifted to Nevada, trying to imagine what he would look like cradling a tiny baby with green eyes and dark hair in his arms. A sad smile tugged at your lips at the image of him lulling his child to sleep with a sweet Spanish lullaby, completely transfixed by the life you both had created. But then reality crept back in, ripping the image from your broken heart. In one day, one line, one result stole that dream away from you and replaced it with fear and uncertainty. What if you could never get pregnant? What if Nevada didn’t want a family?

Nevada may have been terrifying to most people with a pulse but not to you. He surprised you in so many ways. You also surprised him. He realized early on in your relationship not to be deceived by your beauty. You were as tough as nails and gave just as much attitude as he did.

You continued walking, the sky getting darker and darker. A breeze whipped through your hair. You wrapped your arms around your body, shivering as raindrops began to dot your thin tank top. A sudden clap of thunder made you jump in your skin.  The sky opened up and rain began to pelt down. You were drenched in a matter of seconds. While everyone ran for cover, you slowly made your way back home, not caring about the rain or anything else in that moment when a tiny mewl caught your attention from an alley beside the sidewalk. The tiny whimpers could barely be heard above the claps of thunder rumbling from above.

You headed into the dark alleyway, weaving around dirty puddles and garbage, trying to find the source of those pathetic noises. “Hello?” You called out before realizing what a fool you must have looked like in that instant, sifting through debris between a Chinese restaurant and a bodega during a rainstorm in search of God knows what. Thankfully, no one was around to notice. Lightning sliced through the sky, illuminating the space around you followed by another loud boom of thunder. You yelped and jumped back, your legs bumping into a small wooden crate covered in soggy newspapers. The crate yowled in response. You bent down and tossed the old papers aside finding a pair of large glowing eyes staring up at you.

*****

Nevada paced back and forth around the living room, glancing outside at the sheet of rain pouring down. He reached into his back pocket for his pack of cigarettes. Shaking one out of the carton, he lit the cigarette and held the smoke in his mouth for a long moment, enjoying the deep burn he felt in his throat. Although you had a hard rule about not smoking in the house, Nevada needed this. The nicotine helped to relieve the tension in his muscles. He had been on edge since early that afternoon when he came home to find you gone. Normally, he wouldn’t think anything of it but when he spied your cell phone and purse on the kitchen counter, he knew something was wrong. You always took your cell phone with you, even if you were going out for a jog around the block.

Nevada may have been King of the Heights, but he certainly didn’t get there without making a few enemies in the process. What if something happened to you? Nevada reached for his phone and called one of his men that he had sent out to troll the neighborhood for you. “Any sign of her?” He asked when his goon answered, taking another long draw from his cigarette.

“Not yet, jefe. We searched in all her usual hangouts,” the man replied.

“Keep looking,” Nevada growled and hung up the phone. He grinded the stub of his cigarette into a discarded magazine on the living room table. “Fuck this,” he muttered, getting up and grabbing his jacket. Nevada was an impatient man. He felt useless and ridiculous standing idly by. Trujillo was not some teenage girl sitting by the phone on a Saturday night. No, he would take matters into his own hands and go look for you himself. He grabbed his keys and opened the door, running smack into you.

You were shivering, soaked to the bone. “Y/N! Where’ve you been? I was just about to go look for you. Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Nevada grabbed you by the shoulders, looking you over for any signs of blood or injuries.

“I’m fine,” you softly said through chattering teeth. “Just decided to go for a walk.”

Nevada stared at you incredulously, ushering you inside. “In the middle of a thunderstorm. Estás loca? Look at you, you’re freezing!” He rubbed your arms, trying to bring some warmth back into your body, ignoring the giant wet black ball of fur you were clutching to your chest.

“It wasn’t raining when I started to walk. Anyways it’s a good thing I went. Look what I found.” You held out what Nevada thought was the ugliest looking animal he had ever seen.

He scowled and backed away. “What the fuck is that?”

“What do you mean “what the fuck is that.” Haven’t you ever seen a cat before?” You turned the cat to face you and made a kissy noise. “I found him in the alley next to Empire Szechuan. Isn’t he cute,” you cooed, bringing the animal back up to Nevada’s face.

Cute wasn’t exactly the first word Nevada would have used to describe the filthy four-legged beast. The cat looked worse for wear. If that thing had nine lives, he definitely didn’t have many left. Chunks of black fur were missing from his body, a piece of his right ear appeared to have been bitten off and perhaps the most unsettling were his eyes. Two mossy green eyes that were crossed. The damn cat couldn’t even see straight.

“He’s…..he’s something, alright,” Nevada slowly said and stepped away from the cross-eyed, mangy feline.

“Can we keep him? Please? He’s all alone in this world. He doesn’t have anywhere to go. He’s an orphan.” You pouted your lips and batted your lashes at Nevada, giving him big doe eyes while bringing the cat up to your cheek. The feline purred as he nuzzled against your face. “Pretty please, Vada.”

Nevada sighed and looked up to the ceiling in defeat, knowing he would cave. You were his kryptonite. He would crawl to the ends of the Earth just to make you happy. “Fine,” he grumbled and rolled his eyes.

“Gracias, mi amor.” You smiled and kissed his cheek, walking past him towards the bedroom, cradling the cat in your arms. “Come on, Vegas. Let’s go get ready for bed,” you cooed.

Nevada whipped around. “Vegas?!”

“Yeah, his name,” you replied, motioning to the cat. “It’s cute, right? Plus I thought it fit cause you and him are very similar. He’s like a mini-Nevada. You wear black, he’s all black. You have green eyes, he has green eyes.”

Nevada frowned at the idea of being compared to a stray animal. “Yeah but mine aren’t crossed.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not funny, Papi. You’re hurting my baby’s feelings.” You snuggled up to the critter and went into the bedroom, leaving Nevada alone in the middle of the living room. He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, listening to you talk to the cat from the other room. You were acting strange. Something wasn’t right, he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

*****

At some point between your walk and coming back home, you started your period. After putting in a tampon, you washed your hands, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, feeling completely betrayed by your own body.

“Oye!” Nevada called out from the bedroom. “You ok in there?”

You sniffled and wiped away a few stray tears that had managed to slip out. “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second.”

You walked out of the master bathroom and crawled into bed. Nevada rolled over and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to him, your back flush against his chest. “Mmm, you’re still so cold, baby. Want Papi to warm you up?” He slowly began to kiss down your neck. His fingertips trailing down your arm, inching closer to your thigh. He hummed in appreciation while roaming your form. His growing erection rubbing against your backside.

Most nights played out like this with you and Nevada unable to keep your hands off each other. You couldn’t get enough of him, he was like a drug to you. But tonight was different, feeling yourself stiffen under his touch. You didn’t need sex, what you needed in that moment was to be comforted. You turned to face him and grabbed his hands. “Vada, not tonight. I’m sorry. I’m just….not in the mood. Do you think you could just hold me?”

“Of course.” Nevada cupped your face, gently stroking your cheek. There was such sadness in your eyes. A deep despair that unnerved him. “Are you ok?”

You gave him a tight smile and nodded. “I’m fine,” you lied. “I just want to be held, that’s all.” You rested your head on his chest, listening to the thumping of his heart under your ear, your fingers tracing each one of his scars.

Nevada wound an arm around you and rested his cheek against the crown of your head. He had just closed his eyes when he felt a pair of sharp claws digging into his chest followed by a meow. “Oye no!” He scolded when a pair of crossed green eyes looked up at him. “Cats sleep on the floor.”

“Please, Vada. Just tonight. Just this once,” you begged and reached out for Vegas.

He gave you a stern look. “Fine, but just tonight. I mean what if that thing has fleas or something.”

“Vegas doesn’t have fleas,” you said, scratching behind his ear. “He’s perfect.”

The cat made himself comfortable between you and Nevada, circling a few times, his butt getting right in Nevada’s face. “Carajo!” He groaned as the cat’s tail whipped his nose. You giggled and gently took Vegas in your arms, laying your head back on Nevada’s chest. Between the cat and your boyfriend, you finally were able to fall asleep after a long day.

*****

For a tiny cat, Vegas seemed to take up a lot of room. To make matters worse, he also had a preferred sleeping spot— the top of Nevada’s head. Everytime Nevada plucked Vegas up and placed him on the floor, he would jump right back on the bed and get in the same position. This continued throughout the night, until Nevada moved to the living room to sleep on the couch. His efforts proved futile when the cat promptly followed him and leapt right on top of his head yet again. By that point, it was 4 in the morning and Nevada had given up on sleep. Instead he got up and dressed, deciding to leave early to go to the club, thinking he would double check the books and maybe squeeze in a nap on his office couch.

Later that afternoon, Nevada opened the door to your shared home, utterly exhausted. Walking into the foyer, he tripped and nearly broke his neck on a large plastic mouse. Muttering a curse under his breath, he picked up the object in question and tossed it into the living room where he saw the entire floor covered in cat toys. His jaw dropped, eyes widening as he drank in the scene before him. Plush balls, squeaky fishes stuffed with catnip, laser pointers, and cat teasers littered the floor. Nevada cautiously stepped over the toys as if he was in a minefield. He continued to walk through the apartment, noticing a few tiny ridiculous outfits strewn on the dining room table and a deluxe multi-level kitty mansion right next to the television. If it wasn’t for the pictures of you and Nevada adorning the walls, he would’ve swore that he was in some sick twisted version of cat utopia.

“Nevada? Is that you?” You shouted.

“Yeah, I came home early.” Nevada followed the sound of your voice to the kitchen. You were standing at the sink giving Vegas a bath. The cat looked pitiful and less than pleased to be dripping wet. “How was your day?” He asked, warily eyeing the soaking feline while he opened the fridge to grab a beer.  

“Vegas and I had a big day. Didn’t we, snookums?” You wrapped a fluffy towel around Vegas and rocked him back and forth. “We went to the vet to get a checkup and then stopped by the pet store to pick up a few things,” you said in a high-pitched baby voice, your eyes never leaving the cat in your arms.

Nevada nearly spat his beer out. “A few things?! Carajo, Y/N, it looks like you bought out the whole store! We could open up our own pet shop with all this stuff.” He grimaced and nudged a stuffed toy bird with his foot causing it to squeak.

“Well, we want our baby to have the best.”

“I guess,” he mumbled, picking up one of the several prescription bottles on the counter. “What’s all this?”

“His medication,” you replied nonchalantly, drying off Vegas and setting him down on the floor.

Nevada snorted a laugh. “Medication? You gotta be kidding me. You sure you didn’t hold up a pharmacy? Since when does a cat need pills.”

“Animals need medication too, Vada. Vegas just needs a little extra that’s all.” You shrugged and began organizing the orange bottles. “There’s his flea and tick medication, allergy medication, medication for his heart murmur and liver, medicine for a rash he may get as a reaction from the medication he has to take for his heart murmur. It’s all basic stuff really.”

“Coño, my 95 year old abuelita doesn’t need this much medication,” Nevada mused. He gently pulled you towards, wrapping his arms around your waist and planting a firm kiss on your lips. “Listen, mi amor. This whole cat thing,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “If you want a pet so badly then why don’t we just buy you a kitten or a puppy from a good breeder or maybe an easier animal like a beta fish or a sea monkey. You know, get you a pet that isn’t so sick. Maybe a cat that can actually see straight and has both ears intact,” he teased.

You frowned and vehemently shook your head, moving out of Nevada’s grasp to finish clearing away the pill bottles. “No. I’m not abandoning Vegas. He can’t help that he needs all this medicine. Just because someone is sick or their body doesn’t perform the way that it should, doesn’t mean you just throw them away like trash.” You continued your rant while furiously scouring the sink, your eyes glossy with tears. “Maybe Vegas knows that his body betrayed him but he’s dealing with it. He’s trying his best with what he has. He may have hopes and dreams but his body prevents him from achieving them. That doesn’t mean we give up on him.”

Nevada furrowed his eyebrows in concern at this sudden outburst. He placed his hand over yours and tilted his head to meet your gaze. “Hey, we won’t get another cat, I promise. I’m just worried about you. You’ve been acting weird. Is there something you want to tell me?” He gently ran his fingers through your hair, his eyes pleading for you to tell him what was wrong.

You almost confessed everything to him but you just couldn’t. You were afraid. Afraid of how he would react to the news that he almost could have been a father. Afraid of saying out loud that you wanted a family and that it may never happen. “I’m fine. Just tired,” you whispered, biting down on your bottom lip to keep from crying. “I’m going to go take a nap.” You walked past him and went to your bedroom.

Nevada stood in place, listening to the door shut. He wanted to follow you and demand to know what was wrong, but he couldn’t move. Nevada was never one for emotions and he felt ill-equipped to handle this situation. Typically it was the other way around, you were the one encouraging him to talk, breaking down those walls he had built up around his heart.

In need of something stronger than a beer, Nevada grabbed a glass and some scotch from the kitchen cupboard. He poured himself a drink and went to the living room, tossing aside some catnip toys before sitting down on the couch. Nevada downed the first glass, relishing in the sharp burn as the amber liquid went down his throat and poured himself another. Vegas jumped up on the table, staring at him with his crossed green eyes.

Nevada glared at the feline. “The fuck you looking at.”

Vegas narrowed his eyes and brought up his paw, ready to swipe the expensive bottle of scotch off the table. Before Nevada could say anything, the cat moved his paw and sent the bottle flying. Nevada glanced down at the broken bottle, the alcohol seeping into the expensive rug underneath the table. “Me cago en su madre,” he muttered, running a hand over his face.

The next few weeks tested Nevada’s patience. Apart from the lack of sleep and finding hairballs all over the house, Vegas had also decided to forgo the expensive scratching post you had bought and clawed up one of Nevada’s favorite leather jackets instead. It took all his strength not to stuff Vegas in a bag and toss him over the Washington Heights bridge. On top of the feline frenzy surrounding your household, you had distanced yourself more and more from Nevada, focusing all your attention on the cat. Anytime he tried to get close, you would take a step back, shutting him out completely. This was also the longest you had ever gone without sex, typically you both were like rabbits. Nevada was frustrated in more ways than one, quickly reaching his breaking point. It was only a matter of time before he exploded and the truth would eventually bubble up to the surface.

*****

“Babe, ven aca! Look what I can do!” You called out from your comfortable spot on the sofa. Nevada walked into the living room just as you were taking a plate of chocolate cake and balancing it on your swollen belly. “Ta-dah!” You smiled and threw your arms out.

“Coño que talent.” Nevada snorted a laugh before furrowing his eyebrows when he saw you take a huge bite of cake. “Hey, is that the last piece?”

You froze mid-bite, your cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. “Maybe,” you managed to say with your mouth full.

“I knew I should’ve hid it,” he teased and shook his head.

You swallowed and swiped some frosting on your index finger, beckoning Nevada to come closer. “Awww, you wanna taste, Papi?” You smirked, spreading your legs a bit.

Nevada moved the plate to the table and hovered over your frame, sucking the chocolate frosting off your digit. “Mmmm.” Licking his lips, he leaned forward, placing wet wanton kisses up the gentle slope of your neck. “Have I told you how sexy you look pregnant,” he purred in your ear.

“Everyday for the past 7 months.”

“Cause it’s true. I can’t get enough of you.” Nevada continued to kiss down your body, playfully biting down on your nipple through your thin t-shirt.

You softly moaned, losing yourself in the moment when you felt your baby girl stretch in your womb. “She’s kicking.”

Nevada smiled and pushed up your shirt, placing his hands on your bump. “Oye, this is your Papi speaking. Can you hear me?” He stared at your stomach in amazement, watching it move as she kicked against his palms.

“Houston, we have contact.” You giggled and ran your fingers through his hair.

Nevada dropped a tender kiss on your belly, softly caressing his child’s home. “I can’t wait to meet you, mi princesa. Papi loves you so much.” You smiled and closed your eyes, listening to him talk to the life that was growing inside you.

You opened your eyes and sat up. It was early, light only just beginning to peek through the windows of your darkened bedroom. You glanced down at Nevada asleep next to you before placing a hand on your flat stomach. It wasn’t real. Just a figment of your imagination, a cruel joke your dreams had played on you. A soft sob escaped your lips. You had been so happy, floating on air only to come crashing back to Earth.

There was no way you would ever be able to fall asleep now. You got out of bed and changed into a pair of leggings and one of Nevada’s t-shirts, deciding that a run might help clear your mind. You stepped outside into the cool morning, stretching your arms above your head before beginning an easy pace. Each slap of your foot against the pavement brought you some sense of clarity, some form of escape. You ran harder and faster until all you could comprehend was the sweat beading off your face and the burn in your lungs.

*****

Nevada was in a deep sleep, a rarity as of late, when he felt a pair of sharp claws pawing at his head and a black tail swishing in his face. “Get off,” he muttered, swiping the cat away with his eyes still closed. He rolled over and reached out for you, only to find rumpled sheets. Figuring that you were in the kitchen making breakfast, he tried to fall back asleep but Vegas had other plans. The cat pounced on top of him and began batting at his chest.  “Y/N! Come get this fuckin’ cat,” he groaned, getting up with Vegas in his arms, placing him on the floor.

Just as Nevada had fallen back asleep, he heard the most pitiful meow coming from the bathroom. The meows became louder and more obnoxious. “Pipe the fuck down, asshole!” Nevada growled and covered his head with a pillow to drown out the sound but it was no use. He got up again, ripping the covers off and stomping over to the bathroom to find Vegas with his head stuck in the cupboard under the sink. The cat wiggled its body, trying to escape as it cried for help.

“Stupid cat. How the fuck did you do this,” Nevada grumbled and crouched down to open the cupboard. “Y/N! Get your–” Nevada began to shout, pulling the cat out of the cupboard when he saw something that silenced him immediately. There in Vegas’ mouth was a pregnancy test. The cat dropped the test stick in his hand and scampered off. It was still in its wrapper. Upon looking deeper into the cupboard, he found a whole box of tests that you had hidden. Nevada fell back on the floor, completely stunned. All of a sudden your odd behavior these past few weeks began to make sense.

@glimmerglittergirl @southern-magnolia @sweetcannolicarisi @delia26 @obfuscateyummy @sass-and-suspenders @eclecticminded @thatesqcrush @katmstanton @amirightcounsellor @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @riodallas @babypink224221 @livxrafa @esparza-army @obsessionprofessional @ottosuricato @melsquared79

[regrettablewritings]

Preference: When They Get Jealous

Characters: Nevada Ramirez, Okoye, George “Digger” Harkness, Lucifer Morningstar, Clyde Logan

Nevada Ramirez

Nevada Ramirez does not get jealous. Don’t get anything in that pretty little head of yours twisted: Nevada “El Trujillo” Ramirez does not stoop so low as to feel jealous. Jealousy is what a pussy incapable of keeping his woman feels. And Nevada don’t never gotta worry about that type of bullshit.

Nevada Ramirez does not get jealous. Not even when he sees some jackass getting a little too handsy with you. He gets angry, sure. But not out of jealousy: It’s because that dumbass just doesn’t know his place. He knows you’re too sweet for your own good, that you’ve never been particularly good with confrontation or speaking up when it came to strangers; luckily for you, your boyfriend is more than happy to lend you a hand with that problem.

He sees you smile all wobbly at the asshole, brows ever so slightly furrowed over eyes that whimper in panic. Maybe even reads your lips a bit. He can’t hear you over the thudding bass of the club, but he knows you well enough to know that you’re stuttering, your voice quivering as you try ever so gently to politely shut him down. It almost makes Nevada want to smirk: You’re trying to help your own pest, give him a head start and give him a chance to escape. But it’s too late for that, and you know it the moment you see two of ‘Vada’s boys stalk up to you and your new friend, with one of them grunting that it’s “time to go.”

You’re pretty sure your “new friend” knows it’s too late as well, given how he tenses, but the hand he has on your lower, lower back stays. Maybe even applies further pressure. He tries (stupidly) to hold his ground. But the ground can’t hold him; not as Nevada’s boys pick him up effortlessly and drag him off to a more dimly-lit section of the club. The only thing shining brightly from that corner being the exit sign.

Fifteen minutes later, your boyfriend joins you. He would pretend that he doesn’t know why your lips are pressed in disapproval, and that he doesn’t see how your brows are still furrowed but this time, in a way to suggest disapproval. And you would pretend that you don’t smell the smell of cigarettes smoked in the alley, or sweat worked up from an activity he got too into. More importantly, you pretend that you don’t see his bruised and bloodied knuckles as he rests and arm about you, gently ushering you closer to him as he murmurs about how lonely you looked without your Papi around.

Instead, you give in to the kiss he gives you. His idea of an apology without outright owning up to it.

Nevada Ramirez does not get jealous. He gets even.

Okoye

On the outside, she is calm and collected. The very image of the perfect warrior. But on the inside? Okoye is blaze with passion. Of course, her fierceness shined through when it came to protection, particularly that of her country, her king, her queen, her princess, and, of course, you. But it was ultimately her taciturn countenance that people took note of, which makes her all the more deadly to the unassuming.

Case in point, if she sees anyone putting the moves on you — man or woman — they will find themselves in one of two situations: They will either have the tip of an often-used vibranium spear pointed at them, or they will be requested to help Okoye spar. And, more often than not, the latter is what she chooses to apply.

Mind you, the challenged needn’t be a member of the Dora -- they needn’t even be a seasoned combatant or even have so much as an orange belt in Tae Kwon Do. Which frankly isn’t very fair, considering they’d be receiving a challenge from the head of Wakandan security, but oh, Okoye will insist: “There are few things more patriotic than assisting your protectors where they need the assistance,” she says. The smile she speaks with is very slight, but there’s no doubt from anyone who knows here that there’s a sliver of malice in them.

There’s really no need to go into how the match goes, especially since it’s obvious who the victor is every single time. Generally speaking, there are only four things that bare mentioning:

For one, no matter how much of a sweat or how bruised and banged up her opponent gets, Okoye always goes easy on them. Always. For two, every blue moon, Okoye might let them land a hit on her. However, this is out of pity as well as being for show. Because in the event they so much as scratch her, there’s the third thing: At the end of every sparring match, you go up to your beloved, singing her praises or to offer her a cloth to dab what little sweat she might have shed, or to tend to whatever sores she might have received. But whatever the case, you always go to her.

Fourthly, none of Okoye’s opponents ever try getting cozy with you again.

George “Digger” Harkness

Digger’s got a lot of nerves, daring to actually exhibit jealousy. He’s not a cheater, no, but he sure doesn’t exactly keep his eyes locked and loaded on you as much as you would like for him to. The amount of times he’s earned your ire for glancing at a jiggling ass or checking out a pair of swaying hips could fill a small novel.

So you (pretend) that it isn’t petty when you finally gain the opportunity to enact revenge on him.

Considering that his release from Belle Reve wasn’t exactly officiated by actual personnel (and was, in fact, just a flat-out jailbreak), your beloved Aussie had to lay low for a bit. That meant that in order to keep the feds from knocking down your door and getting you more involved than what you already were, Digger had to hide from place to place for a bit before he could even dream of returning back to you and setting up shop in your humble abode. But just because his life was sort of on pause didn’t mean that yours had to be.

It seemed like every time Digger gave you a ring from a burner phone, you were about to be headed out somewhere or were planning on going to an event with friends. Really, the fact that you wanted to go somewhere wild should’ve been a big indication to Digger that you were pulling his leg, but it didn’t matter: On the occasion that you sent a pic of what you planned on wearing, the jealousy consumed him.

You were going out? In that outfit? In that color you know makes you irresistible to both him and probably literally anyone with functioning eyes and a working downstairs!? Well, no, actually: While you did occasionally join your friends for a night out on the town, it was rarely ever in any of the outfits you implanted in Digger’s mind. And even then, for the most part, you weren’t actually going anywhere except to the couch to scroll YouTube or binge watch New Girl until you fell asleep.

But of course, Digger never thought this might’ve been the case. Instead, he thought to enlist the help of “friends” to keep an eye on you and report back to him if any bastard’s eyes or hands went anywhere they didn’t belong, aka on you. And when those efforts came up fruitless (he refused to believe them when they insisted you weren’t acting up), he took matters into his own hands: His dumb ass cut his location-hopping a bit short, appearing at your door a frustrated and possessive mess as he wasted no time storming through the door, hoiking you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes so he could take you to the bedroom and “remind you who you belong to.”

So, in short, Digger’s main resort when he can actually be around you is his go-to for most things he gets involved in that isn’t thievery: He, ahem, “smashes your back out”. Lovely.

Lucifer Morningstar

Lucifer swears he doesn’t get jealous but since he doesn’t think it’s a lie, he’s technically not lying. But he’s most definitely not being forthcoming with the truth. And that truth is that when he gets jealous, Luci becomes the most petty baby of them all!

Normally, he’s pretty confident that he has your attention. After all, what’s not to love? He’s sexy, talented, witty, interesting, and, oh yeah, the literal embodiment of enticement and charisma. Regular men just simply cannot compare! . . . So why in the Heaven would you be smiling at such a drab, bipedal specimen who thinks that they can replace having a personality with simply owning a pocket watch in this day and age!?

He doesn’t care that that guy is your coworker, he’s boring and stupid and there’s no way you really find him interesting, right? . . . Right?

If left to his own devices (hell, he’ll make the devices himself even if you protest), Luci will go out of his way to try and prove that that guy isn’t worth your attention and that you should please keep it on your loving Devil instead please. He’ll bequeath him unpleasant sobriquets; he’ll enlist his connections to dig up some dirt; if you leave them alone together for too long, Lucifer might even ask him what his deepest desire is. But these will often fall flat on the ass: The nicknames will roll off the “opposition’s” back like water off a duck (or you’ll fuss at Lucifer to quit it); the worst thing that could be dug up was that he was a college republican or something; and apparently his deepest desire is to acquire a copy of the Star Wars holiday special.

And somehow, that’s even worse!!

He might actually become a little pathetic (which, considering it’s Lucifer, probably just means his hair becomes a bit less combed, his clothes become more disheveled, and he might even somehow become even more clingy and demanding and even direct his pettiness towards you) because (Y/N), please, you can’t seriously be considering leaving your handsome, interesting, Devil for some boring, sad, oblivious piece of --

Really, the best way to get Lucifer to stop pestering is by reminding him who you’re with: Himself. After all, you’re not going home with the guy from work. Nor do you let him rest his head on your lap so you can play with his hair, or giving him your kisses, or letting him touch you in places only Heaven and Hell know drive you wild.

No . . . Those are reserved only for Lucifer, your beloved Hell bastard, for better or for worse. But mostly for the better -- even though he can sometimes just be the worst.

Clyde Logan

It really depends on the environment, because it ultimately can go one of two ways based on that alone. Clyde thinks the world of you, that you must be some kind of angel to see something good enough in him worth dating. And while it’s a bit of a confidence-booster in some respects, it also leads to a lot of other worries, highlighting even further his own long-term insecurities.

In a way, he’s both shocked and glad that you don’t get hit on every moment of every day the moment you walk out the house: You’re clearly the most gorgeous gal ever. You deserve acknowledgement of this! But then again, he doesn’t want so many eyes on you; one pair might most definitely belong to somebody better for you than him: Better-looking, better at talking, better socially, better job . . .

So when the two of you are out grocery shopping or visiting a local farmer’s market or anything and some rugged fox of a man casts a sensual smirk your way, Clyde can’t help but gain the demeanor of a nervous puppy, his large frame seemingly shrinking as his long hair curtains his face. If he had a tail, it would most certainly have tucked itself between his legs. It only gets slightly better when you only return a polite but small smile and take your partner’s hand to gently lead him elsewhere. But only slightly. It may take some cuddles and smooches when you get home to properly perk Clyde back up, but that’s far from something you mind doing.

However, should you both be at Duck Tape, or any other gathering that might make use of a mixologist for that matter? Clyde is in his element.

Clyde isn’t one to boast or show off; it’s not compatible with his shy nature, and his belief in the Logan Family Curse just doesn’t allow for him to get greedy about it. But if one night you drop by to visit him at work and he sees some guy making goo-goo eyes and hokey small talk at you? It’s on.

It doesn’t matter what drink the guy orders: Clyde immediately knows how to make it and make it perfectly, utilizing only his organic hand. The concoctions are mixed with such ease and precision, his every move emoting a sense of confidence that the unsuspecting would never have guessed a man like him could possess. And if he would be so bold, Clyde might even do so while barely breaking eye contact. It’s all the more better if the guy flirting with you tries ordering a drink for you himself. Because that’s when Clyde can start off with the man’s drink . . . before making you a completely different one entirely. The patron’s brow furrows.

“That’s . . . not what I ordered for her,” he points out.

And Clyde nods. “Nope. But that’s her favorite, and I reckon she’d prefer that over what you wanted her to have.”

You toasting at your beloved and offering a, “Thanks, honey” only sweetens the deal.

There aren’t many opportunities where Clyde feels like The Big Man on Campus, so to speak. But moments like that, where he feels he gets to show some of his worth? He can’t help but be a bit emboldened by them.

Of course, it goes without saying that it isn’t the drink-mixing or skill that drew you to him: It’s that sweet, thoughtful disposition of his. Because let’s face it: In a county of foxes and wolves, you can’t beat a sweet-eyed puppy-dog.

[thatesqcrush]

Gods & Monsters

Nevada Ramirez x Reader. Sequel to After Midnight.  CW: smut, hurt/comfort, physical violence (slap), language, dubcon references. AN: This fills the cock warming square in my kink bingo.

WC: 1489

He was the relationship that was not supposed to happen. You were the quintessential goodie goodie, the girl next door who never broke a rule. You didn’t do drugs, you barely drank, and you didn’t so much even have a parking ticket.

But you had been through a rash of bad luck – lost your job and got dumped. At your friend’s insistence, you decided to join her at trendiest club in all of New York City. First a round of tequila shots was ordered; the second and third included a mix of cocktails and beers. 

What followed was a one night stand with the club’s owner, Nevada “El Trujillo” Ramirez. The drug lord was a fearsome man who did not let anything get in his way in getting what he wanted. And that night, in his seedy club, with all the men and women that he could have his pick of - he wanted you. 

And now you were the girlfriend of the self-proclaimed King of the Heights.

It had been three weeks since you last saw Nevada. Nevada and his crew had gone on yet another raid in the Heights. It was always the same – you would come home (to his apartment) to an empty apartment with a half-assed note saying he’d be back. At some point he would text you “143” and you knew that he was okay. Sometimes he would come home in one piece, other times, a bit tattered and torn with an occasional shine (no big deal) or a bullet hole (a much bigger deal). 

But he always came back. And he was never gone for more than a week’s time. 

Now, it had been three weeks. No texts. No nothing. Nevada was a powerful man who made many enemies along the way. Miguel, Nevada’s right hand was ordered to stay behind to keep an eye on things – and you. You pleaded with Miguel but even Miguel had no idea of what was going on. “He usually sends me some kind of heads up lil mama, but it’s been radio silent. Lo siento.” 

You crossed your arms against your chest. “I am worried. It’s never been this long.” 

“Me too.” Miguel replied. “Me too.” 

--

 Another week passed by. Then another. And then two more followed. 

You were near delirious with worry. You tried to focus at your new job, but your concentration was off and you felt like you had the memory of a goldfish. With Nevada’s money, you didn’t need to work but he respected that you wanted to earn your own keep. Thankfully, there was always a legal assistant job out there and your line of work on more than one occasion, helped Nevada when he was toeing dangerously across the line. 

You trudged back to your apartment, worn out and weary. Miguel came around to pick you up when you got out as he always did, but you rebuked him, preferring to take the long subway ride from downtown Manhattan to The Bronx. 

The dark silent apartment didn’t bother you anymore. If anything, it offered solitude to quiet your racing mind. You dropped your keys in the little bowl on the table next to the door and shrugged off your sweater. You reached down to take off your booties and you groaned in relief as you rubbed your aching feet. You sniffed the air – something smelled different. “What the fuck?” You wondered out loud. 

“Your voice is like music in my ear ma’.”

You jumped and then squinted. “Nevada?” The apartment lights switched on and there was Nevada in the corner sitting in the corner, one hand holding a smoldering cigar, the other, with a glass of something amber colored. 

“Maldita sea la madre! Hijo de la gran puta! Where the fuck have you been?” You hollered as you marched over. Nevada stood and in two giant steps, had you in his arms. You struggled for a bit and before jerking your hand free. You smacked him across the face so hard, your hand stung. 

“That’s the kind of welcome home I get?” Nevada spat, grabbing your face. He had prepared himself that he wouldn’t get a warm reception but this was not what he had expected at all. And then what followed – he didn’t expect at all.  

You crumpled to the ground, sobbing in relief that he was there – he was real. The smack across his handsome face did occur and you weren’t hallucinating. 

“Oh Y/N,” he murmured. “My sweet princesa.” He dropped to the ground and picked you up into his arms. He sat there on the ground, holding you as you sobbed. Nevada pressed his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent. You smelled like warm vanilla and cinnamon and any hardened resolve he had, melted away.

“I thought you had died.” You continued to sob, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Splashes of warm drops dripped down, soaking his shirt. You pulled away, and you stared into Nevada’s eyes, which were shiny and wet as well. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. Nevada nodded. “I am so sorry; I got caught up and the Feds closed in and --.” 

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter – you are here. I love you and missed you so much.” 

“Shh, I am here now. I am not going anywhere.” Nevada rumbled as he stroked your hair. His hands moved up your sides, feeling your rib cage and then to your back, feeling the knobs of your spine. He could feel that you had lost weight. And then, before you could even think your next thought, Nevada enveloped you completely into a tight embrace. You pulled away and moved up to kiss him. Nevada groaned, returning the kiss. The kiss became more heated and he tangled his hands in your hair. You pushed his shirt up, desperate to feel more of him. 

“La cama, ahora.” Nevada growled and you nodded. He stood and you followed, making way to the bedroom. Clothes flew off and you both tumbled back onto the bed, a mess of limbs. Hands touched everywhere. Nevada rolled you, so he was on top and he hungrily kissed you before moving down your body, leaving wet kisses across your clavicle and down your sternum. A small growl rumbled from his chest as he circled your nipple with his tongue, before taking it into his mouth. He used his other hand to pinch and roll your other nipple. Nevada took his time, leisurely playing with your breasts, stimulating you with various intensities of touch. You whimpered and mewled under his touch as he kept going - sucking, touching, rubbing, squeezing, and stroking. Your skin was flushed with arousal. Finally you spoke up, unable to take anymore. 

“Nevada please… I just need to feel you inside of me.” You pleaded.  

Nevada pushed one leg up over you and he fisted his cock. “Whatever mami wants, mami gets.”  He stroked your soaking wet cunt with the head of his cock, before pushing in. You gasped as he filled you and then bottomed out. Nevada let out a deep rumble, having missed the sensation of your greedy cunt taking him. 

“Oh my god ‘Vada, oh fuck! Don’t move.” You gasped. Nevada stilled his movements and leaned down to kiss you passionately. You clung to him and he buried his face in your neck. You each wrapped your arms around each other. Nevada was desperate to undulate his hips and when he moved to do so, you wrapped your legs around him tighter. 

“No…” You panted in his ear. “Quédate así por un ratito. I just want to feel you inside of me.” 

Nevada nodded. “Okay.” And like that, with him inside of you, you both stayed there, enjoying the closeness and intimacy.  It was rare that you two ever had a sweet, bonding moment such as this one. Your eyes were shut, enjoying the feeling of fullness from his cock and the pressure of his weight over you. You shifted and Nevada grunted, desperate for more, but also giving you what you wanted. 

Nevada kissed you languidly and you rewarded him but squeezing your muscles. Nevada grunted again. He trembled above you and you knew this wouldn't last much longer.  

“Please,” Nevada begged and you nodded. It only took a few soft thrusts of his hips before he came deep inside of you. You continued to cling to Nevada, and you whimpered as you felt his cum drip out of you. 

“I love you, you stupid asshole.” You replied, a smile twitching across your face. Nevada’s breath hitched and he felt his heart swell at your proclamation.  

“I love you too. Siempre.” Nevada smiled before leaning to kiss you once more.

 --FIN--

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