Raul Love💕

Pairing: Nevada Ramirez x Reader

Warnings: 18+, swearing

Word count: 304

A/N: @letty-o requested a drabble based on the prompt “Kiss me. When I’m being fucked, I like to get kissed a lot.” It’s from the movie Dog Day Afternoon.

Nevada pressed you against the door of his office, strong thigh rubbing against your throbbing core. He growled as he felt your arousal through the fabric of his jeans.

“So fucking wet already.” 

“For you, always.” You responded, moaning as Nevada sucked on your pulse point. 

He reached down and undid his jeans and you let your hands wander from his shoulders down to his groin. You wrapped your hand around his hard cock, squeezing him. Nevada groaned and rested his forehead against your shoulder. 

“You’ll be the death of me.” 

You just giggled and wrapped your leg around his. 

“Kiss me. When I’m being fucked, I like to get kissed a lot.” 

Nevada gathered your wetness with his cock and placed his soft lips on yours in a searing hot kiss. When he pushed into you, slowly, he nibbled on your lower lip. You moaned into his mouth, grabbing onto his shoulders for dear life,  as he began to mercilessly pound into you. You were certain you wouldn’t be able to walk after this. 

One of Nevada’s hands travelled to the spot where the two of you connected and he pressed his thumb against your sensitive pearl. You felt your head spin as Nevada continued to snap his hips into yours, his cock filling out your sheath with every thrust. 

“I’m not gonna last long, Vada.” You managed between kisses. 

“Me either.” 

 With each of his thrusts, you felt the fire in your core grow hotter and hotter, until it finally erupted throughout your body. Your legs shuddered as you came, Nevada’s name falling from your lips like a prayer. 

He followed soon after, spurting his hot seed inside you, as your cunt pulsated around him. 

“Fuck, Vada, that was amazing.” 

“Oh, you thought that was amazing? Just wait till we get home.”

Pairing: Nevada Ramirez x Reader/Bebita, Valentina Ramirez (Nevada’s youngest sister)

Warnings: Anxiety, Panic attack, swearing

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: This is based on @dreila03′s  You’ll always be safe with me. Nevada and Bebita:) request. I hope you like it! 

Dating Nevada Ramirez, the self-proclaimed King of the Heights, had many benefits. 

He showered you with lavish gifts, took you out for expensive dinners and the sex was simply amazing. Nevada rarely talked about his feelings, but he didn’t have to. His actions spoke louder than his words, and, at least for the time being, they were enough for you. Over the course of your courtship, the two of you had gotten to know each other on a deeper level. The two of you talked about each other’s idiosyncrasies, likes and dislikes, boundaries, grudges. But there were some things you hid from each other. Nevada barely talked about his business around you - he was aware that you knew what his job entailed, but he spared you the gruesome details. And you, you hid your mental illness from him. You didn’t want him to think of you as a freak, or worse, as weak. In hindsight, you shouldn’t have been so stupid, but then again, anxiety feeds on your insecurities and whispers them back to you. 

Pairing: Nevada x Reader/Bebita

Warnings: 18+, some swearing (it’s Nevada peeps)

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: A lovely anone requested a fic based on the prompts “Stay” and “I sleep better when you’re around”. Sorry this took so long, I’m currently working through my requests! xx

Taking Nevada home on a Friday night, spent at one of his clubs with plenty of booze and teasing had become something of a tradition in your budding relationship. He’d fuck you senseless, then take off to his own place, leaving you all alone in your large bed, with nothing but a pleasant ache between your thighs to remember the night by and a wad of cash on the nightstand. You knew Nevada wasn’t a man who talked openly about his feelings, sometimes you doubted he even had any. But then again, he could be the sweetest man, if he wanted to. You were putty in his hands when he shot you that sweet, boyish smirk, that had made you fall in love with him. 

Warning(s):  Nevada angst (light); Nevada smut; Nevada fluff (if it’s possible); two idiots in love; backstory; plot-advancing; adult language; grammar/spelling issues largely due to exhaustion (thanks, MBTA/red line issues!)

Nevada only got you as far as halfway between the front door of his apartment and his couch – and then his cell started chirping.  He ignored it at first, but it kept ringing.  He finally answered it, breaking away from the blistering kiss he was pressing on you.  He barked a long string of Spanish that you didn’t understand, and his green eyes flashed with fury.  He eventually hung up and took a deep breath through his nose, making his nostrils flare. When he looked you in the eye, he seemed apologetic…even a little pleading.

Warning(s):  advancing the ol’ plot; adult language; violence; a soupcon of backstory; implied backstory

Warning(s):  adult language; Nevada smut; Nevada angst (if that’s possible, I guess); shoving the plot forward; heinous crimes implied but not explicitly described

Nevada called you moments after you arrived home, and it made you smile:  his men had dropped you off, so he obviously knew you made it back safely.  Big, bad Trujillo – maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

Warning(s):  the reader gets a POV chapter; Nevada smut; adult language; a ‘Scarface’ reference

When Nevada rolled up on you the first time, trying to be pushy about the tequila shot, he was just another creep.  A handsome one, in a dark, over-the-top sort of way.  But a creep all the same.  You had plenty of experience with them, and the best way to deal with a creep was to just make them feel small.  Then they’d slink off to easier prey.

Warning(s):  adult language (so many eff words!); light smut; kicking the ol’ plot forward a bit

Nevada woke up once in the middle of the night, disoriented at not being in his own bed.  He looked around the dark room until his eyes adjusted, and then he saw your sleeping form beside him.  You were sprawled out, one arm thrown over his belly, breathing so deeply that he had to listen for your breath to make sure you were still alive.

Warning(s):   Nevada smut; filthy language and filthy smut for a (fictional) filthy trash-can human; potential typos because your writer is tired after a day of cleaning her (real) filthy house

Nevada had stood at the reception for a while, just watching you before you noticed him.  He had been prepared to be angry:  seeing you with your rich asshole friends would just remind him how wide the gulf was between the two of you.  He had been surprised though.  You smiled and laughed and chattered with those rich assholes, and not a single one could see the mask you were wearing.

Warning(s):  Slow-burn between a cipher and a trash-can human; a bit of smut and implied smut; your writer wrote “fuck” so much that it started to look like a foreign word to her; the language here is rough, but please know that the only people the writer calls “bitches” are her two sassy lady-dogs.  Also, the reader finally gets her point-of-view section.

Disclaimer(s):  Your writer *tried* to do research on Dominican slang, but she stumbled on a very gross website about how to pick up Dominican women and it made her feel disgusted to a high degree.  So the Spanish here is sparing and likely not authentic slang from the D.R., but if it means I never have to read about how to neg on women from there, then so be it.  Negging is gross enough as it is without the added gross layer of racism.

Nevada wanted to call you immediately, but it was rule number one to never call a woman right away, and Trujillo never called a woman at all. He always made them come to him. He waited a few days, and then a week. He put one of his most trustworthy lieutenants on your tail for a few days, gathering more intel.

Warning(s):  adult language; slow-burn; Greek tragedy reference

Nevada thought about what to do, chain-smoking until the nicotine made him feel jittery and nauseous.  He snagged one of your business cards, pocketing it for himself.  It was dove grey cardstock, and it listed your name with a series of acronyms after it.  Underneath your name and above your email and phone, it simply said, “Accounting. Financial Planning.  Taxes.”

He did a quick internet search on you.  A simple, elegant website with excellent reviews of your services.  No social media he could find.  A woman with your name played on a co-ed rec league softball team in Inwood.  If it was you, then Nevada knew you played left field and had a respectable RBI stat.

It was a start.

Nevada Ramirez x reader

Warning(s):  adult language; more slow burn; the implication of smut

Nevada didn’t see you again for a month.  He kept a sharp eye out at his club, but you didn’t come around.  He pulled the best picture he could of you from the club’s surveillance system.  He gave it to his guys to watch for you around the Heights.  It was a blurry image though, and he wasn’t even sure if you worked or lived there.