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fatecantstopme · 8 months ago

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I Can't Walk Away

Pairing: Nick Amaro x plus size!reader

Summary: When you and your boyfriend break up, you're faced with the seemingly impossible task of putting yourself back together. Luckily for you, your very handsome coworker is more than happy to help along the way.

Warnings: Body image issues, low self-esteem, mentions of toxic/abusive relationships, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, light dom/sub vibes, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V).

A/N: This was entirely self-indulgent and I have no regrets.

Spanish Translations:

Querida: sweetheart/darling

Hermosa: beautiful

Mierda: shit

Por favor: please

Si: yes

All other translations will be after the sentence in brackets/italics.

You dropped onto Olivia's couch with a huff, tears still threatening to break through your stubborn facade.

"Are we gonna talk about it or do I need to have someone beat him up?" Liv asked you, a small smirk gracing her face.

"As much as I'd love to see his ass get handed to him, I think we should avoid committing any crimes," you said lightly.

Olivia sighed softly and reached over to put her arm around you. You leaned into her shoulder and began to let your guard drop. Olivia had been your best friend for over a decade now, your time working together in SVU having brought you closer than you could have imagined.

"He was an asshole, (Y/N/N)," she said softly. "You deserve better."

"You say that, but I guess I just don't believe it," you muttered.

It nearly broke her heart to hear you speak so negatively of yourself, but she knew no matter how many uplifting words she spoke, you would still refuse to believe her.

"Maybe there's something wrong with me," you whispered, tears finally beginning to fall. "Maybe I'm broken--unloveable."

"Hey," she chided. "You are so many things, (Y/N), but broken and unloveable are not among them."

She tightened her grip on you, pulling you into a proper side hug. She let you cry into her shoulder, her own heart breaking along with yours.

You knew, objectively, she was right--your now-ex was indeed an asshole. He'd never treated you well and had often put you down and made you feel terrible about yourself. Your self-esteem had been lower than usual when you met him and in the 6 months you'd been together, he'd managed to destroy whatever vestige of self-love you had left.

There wasn't a single thing about you he didn't belittle. Whether it was your physical appearance, your career, your hobbies, your dreams...he made you feel like everything you ever did was a mistake. In his estimation, you were too fat, unintelligent, boring...and your choice in career was just about the worst thing you could do.

You'd made it your mission in life to help the victims of particularly heinous crimes, which is why you'd been working at SVU for almost 12 years. You were the squad's forensic psychologist, and you loved your work. In many respects, it was the one thing that really brought joy to your life. It was your greatest passion--and the amount of time you spent at work certainly showed it.

Yet during those 6 months with him...your love for the job had begun to wane. Every time you'd stay late or have to cancel a date, he'd berate you for it--mocking your job and your inability to 'be a real person'. Now that you'd finally taken the leap and broken up with him, you were hopeful you could fall back in love with your work.

In this moment, however, all you could think about were the horrible things he'd said to you when you told him you wanted to break up. He'd been especially cruel, calling out every physical insecurity you had and making you feel like an absolute pile of human garbage. He'd called you fat, ugly, unloveable, gross...and a million other things you couldn't bear to repeat.

You weren't thin--you knew that, but you weren't gross. That was just offensive. Unfortunately, he wasn't the first ex to make comments about your weight--something you'd been struggling with for most of your adult life. The words had hit you harder than you'd expected, making you actually think he might be right...maybe you were the problem.

Olivia's voice broke you out of your thoughts, "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

You just nodded, not trusting your voice to answer her properly.

She squeezed you a little tighter, her reassuring presence grounding you in ways you desperately needed. You were always thankful for her friendship, but it was moments like this where you were reminded how much she really meant to you.

**********

You'd spent most of the weekend at Olivia's and by the time Monday rolled around, you were feeling a little bit better. She always knew what to do and say to make everything okay. It was a gift you'd always envied and appreciated.

It was very typical of you to be the first person in the office, having been an early riser most of your life. So you were more than a little surprised when you walked into the precinct Monday morning and spotted Nick Amaro sitting at his desk.

"You're in early," you commented lightly in lieu of greeting.

He turned his gaze to look over at you and shot you a disarming smile. "I couldn't sleep, so I figured I might as well get a head start on some paperwork I've been putting off."

"Wise man. Wouldn't want to upset the boss."

He grinned. "She's strict." His voice was teasing and warm and it made you feel something in your gut you always tried to ignore.

In truth, you were extremely attracted to Nick--it was undeniable. You had not, nor would you ever, tell him or act on it. Nick was so far out of your league it wasn't even funny. Besides, he was newly single, still fresh from his divorce.

"She can be calmed with good coffee and blueberry muffins," you said conspiratorially.

Nick chuckled. "I'm gonna have to write that down."

You offered him a smile before continuing past him to your office. You were surprised when his voice stopped you after a few steps.

"How was your weekend?"

You turned back to face him. "Friday was absolute shit," you said honestly. "But I spent Saturday and part of yesterday with Liv, so it's better now."

A look of concern crossed his face. "Everything okay?"

You feigned a smile. "Everything's fine. Thanks for asking."

His eyes narrowed as he gazed at you skeptically. "Is it that guy again?"

Your cheeks darkened, embarrassed Nick even knew about your ex. "We broke up."

Nick almost looked relieved. "I would say sorry, but it wouldn't be honest. I never liked the guy--he didn't treat you right."

You were surprised he paid enough attention to the things you said to know just how badly your ex had treated you. "Oh?"

Nick stood up and took a couple steps closer to you. He was still a professional distance away, but he could speak quieter so only you could hear him.

"You deserve to be treated with respect and dignity. You're an amazing woman, (Y/N), and a good man would never treat you the way he did. He clearly didn't recognize your worth."

His words slammed into you with surprising force. "I-um-thank you," you muttered softly.

"You can thank me by dating a man who will love you the way you deserve," he said lowly. "Como una reina." [Like a queen.]

His last three words were so quiet you weren't even sure you'd heard him properly--or if you were supposed to hear them at all. You weren't fluent in Spanish by any means, but you understood the basics...enough to know he'd said something about a queen. That is, if you heard him correctly.

You were about to ask him to elaborate when Olivia came into the squad room. She sent a warm smile your way and issued greetings to both you and Nick. Her arrival broke whatever spell Nick had been under, and he went back to his desk quietly.

You went into your office, leaving the door open behind you so you could hear the goings on and the arrival of the rest of the squad. There were plenty of things for you to do, but you couldn't get Nick's words out of your head.

**********

Olivia looked up from her computer when Nick knocked on the doorframe entering her office.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked.

"Sure," she said with a smile.

He came in and quietly shut the door behind him.

"Uh-oh...closed door conversation? Everything okay?"

"With me, yes," he answered. "But I wanted to ask you something and I don't want anyone overhearing."

"Okay..."

"It's about (Y/N)."

Olivia raised her eyebrows. "What about her?"

"She mentioned she'd spent the weekend with you and she and that asshole broke up."

Olivia chuckled softly, glad to hear she wasn't the only one who hated your ex.

"I know it's not really my business, but I can tell something is really upsetting her. Hell, I've noticed a change in her since the moment they started dating--and not in a good way."

"He isn't a good person," Olivia conceded.

"Tell me about it," Nick muttered. "Anyway, I just--well, I just want to know if she's okay? I mean, really okay."

"Why don't you ask her?"

"I did, but I know she wasn't being honest with me."

Olivia sighed. She had a feeling he was asking about you for a reason, but she wasn't sure it was her place to tell him the truth. She was torn between being honest with her partner and keeping her best friend's pain to herself.

"I don't know if it's my place to tell you, but he did say some particularly cruel things about her when she broke up with him."

Nick's eyes narrowed and Olivia could see the anger flare in them. "What did he say to her?" Even his voice was laced with fury--the mere idea someone would hurt you sent him off the edge.

"I can't tell you," Olivia answered. "But if you really want to know, then I think you should talk to her. She trusts you, so she may open up to you."

Nick nodded, anger still boiling beneath the surface. "You're right--I didn't mean to intrude or anything."

Olivia shook her head. "It's alright. I know you care about her...I guess I'm just a little surprised by your anger."

He winced slightly, feeling embarrassed for his display of emotion. "I don't like the idea of some guy making her feel like shit."

"Neither do I," she said honestly. "I am curious though...what made you ask about her?"

"Wha-what do you mean?"

Olivia smiled slowly. "I mean, why do you want to know badly enough to ask me?"

Nick had a feeling Olivia could see right through him--they'd been partners for a few years after all. He wasn't sure how to answer--or if he wanted to be entirely truthful. In the end, he opted for vague honesty. "I care about her."

Olivia watched his expression in silence for a long moment before responding. "So do I."

Nick could see the meaning behind her words as clearly as if she'd spoken them aloud--don't hurt my friend. He didn't say it, but he hoped Olivia knew he would never hurt you...it would break his heart.

**********

"Hey (Y/N/N). You busy?"

You looked up to see Nick standing in your office doorway, leaning against the frame. You swallowed thickly as you pushed down the improper thoughts blazing through your mind at the sight.

"Uh--no. What's up?"

He stepped into the room, edging closer to your desk. "I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner tonight. My treat."

You raised your eyebrows at him, unsure of the cause of his request. "Is there some sort of celebration I'm unaware of?"

He chuckled lightly. "Other than your new-found freedom, no. I just...well, I wanted to spend a little time with you. Ya know, if you want."

You bit your bottom lip as you contemplated his offer. "Well, I don't have any other plans, so why not?"

He grinned. "Excellent. Do you want time to go home first or just leave from here?"

You looked down at your outfit, suddenly feeling very frumpy and unattractive. You knew he wasn't asking you out on a date--just a friend inviting you to dinner to cheer you up. Even still, you really didn't want to go out looking like this. "Do you mind if I go home and change first?"

"Not at all. I can pick you up from your place, if you'd like?"

"Oh, uh-yeah. Sure."

He smiled again. "Perfect. 6:30?"

You nodded. "Sounds good."

You watched him walk out of your office, mind racing as you tried to figure out his motivations and what the hell you were gonna wear.

**********

By the time 6pm rolled around, you'd managed to change your clothes somewhere in the realm of 50 times, and you still weren't entirely satisfied. Even your favorite outfit didn't feel right--you could hear your ex's voice in the back of your mind telling you everything you tried on looked bad.

You dug further into your closet, looking for something simple--cover the things you wanna hide and accentuate the things you wanna show off. Your eyes fell on a beautiful black dress you'd actually never worn. You'd purchased it on a whim because you'd loved it in the store and Olivia had insisted it was too perfect to pass up on.

You pulled the dress off the hanger and put it on, pleased it still fit properly. When you turned to look in the mirror, you almost didn't recognize yourself--you actually felt pretty. The bodice of the dress was tight, but the lower half was flowy. The material was a soft, stretch satin, with a low neckline and flutter sleeves. The dress hit right above your knees and it practically screamed for a pair of heels.

You found your favorite black pumps, slipping them on and smiling at your reflection. You put on some jewelry to spice up the look, sprayed your favorite perfume, and double checked your hair and makeup one last time. You didn't wear much makeup on the daily, so you didn't go too wild with your makeup for the evening. You'd added some eyeliner and lipstick, but otherwise you looked natural. You'd actually been having a good hair day already, so you were pleased to see it was still behaving properly.

You'd just put the last finishing touches on the outfit when you heard the buzzer ring. You quickly went to answer it, and upon hearing Nick's voice, told him you'd be right down.

You took one last look in the mirror, took a deep breath, and headed downstairs feeling both excited and trepidatious. You reminded yourself once again this was just two friends having dinner--purely platonic...but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't want it to be an actual date.

Nick was waiting just outside the front entrance to your apartment building, and he turned around when he heard the door open. Nothing could have prepared you for the look on his face when he saw you.

"Santa mierda," he breathed. "You look incredible." [Holy shit.]

You blushed and looked away. "Thank you," you mumbled softly.

He stepped towards you and gently touched your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze. "You're very welcome."

He dropped his hand, but his eyes stayed fixed on your face for a long moment. "Do you like Italian?" he asked.

"Of course," you answered, silently pleased your voice sounded normal.

"Excellent." He gestured towards his car and you followed behind him. He opened the passenger door and helped you in before getting in the driver's seat.

The drive wasn't very long, and your nerves kept you quiet for most of the ride. You listened to him chatter on about nothing, simply enjoying the sound of his voice.

When you arrived at the restaurant, he once again opened your door and helped you out, but this time his hand didn't leave yours. He placed your hand through the loop he'd made with his arm and guided you to the entrance.

Once you were seated, your nerves began to ratchet up even higher. Unfortunately for you, Nick was both an extremely good detective and an annoyingly perceptive person. As such, he noticed your discomfort immediately.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you lied.

"It's just me, (Y/N/N)," he said quietly.

You exhaled slowly--realizing he was right. It was Nick for God's sake. He was your colleague, your friend. There was no reason to be nervous. "You're right."

He smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. He pulled it back to his side of the table as the server arrived for your drink order.

You were grateful for the glass of wine he delivered moments later, lifting it to your lips almost immediately. You knew the liquid would calm your nerves--maybe then you wouldn't embarrass yourself.

"I'm glad you agreed to have dinner with me," Nick said softly as he sipped his own glass of wine.

"I was a little surprised, in all honesty."

"That I asked or that you agreed?" he teased lightly.

You smiled. "Definitely the former."

"I hate seeing you upset," he admitted. "I thought I might be able to cheer you up a little."

"Thanks, Nick. You're a good friend."

His face fell slightly, but he quickly hid it behind a soft smile. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Whatever he was going to ask was cut off by the arrival of the server to take your food order.

As soon as the server left the table, Nick leaned forward and lowered his voice. "What did he say to you that hurt you so much?"

"What?"

"Your ex."

Your expression shifted and you looked down at the table. "It doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

"Why?"

"Because whatever he said hurt you--and I'm willing to bet my career that he was wrong."

Your eyes snapped back up to meet his. His expression was deadly serious, yet it somehow put you at ease in a way only Nick could. "He said some unpleasant things about my physical appearance that I could have lived without hearing."

Surprise lit up his handsome face. "Unpleasant things about your appearance? I'll bet my life he was wrong."

Now it was your turn to be surprised. "I wouldn't make that bet, Nick."

"I'm confident. Tell me what he said and I'll judge for myself."

You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before giving him a quick overview. "Essentially he said I'm unattractive and fat--I recall the word 'gross' being used as well."

Nick's temper flared instantly, the urge to punch that son of a bitch in the face nearly overwhelming. "He said what?"

Even if you didn't know Nick, you would have been able to see the rage simmering in his eyes, hear it in his tone. "It's not a big deal."

"If he was here, I'd launch him through a window. Bastard."

"I'm okay," you reassured him quietly.

Your soft voice grounded him, as it so often did, and he felt his anger dissipating. He was still angry, but the urge to hunt that asshole down had begun to fade.

"He was wrong, you know."

"Huh?"

"He was wrong. Not only are you one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes on, but your body is perfectly proportioned--deliciously soft and curvy. You're about as far from gross as a human being can be."

He spoke with such conviction, such assuredness, that you almost believed him--almost.

"While I appreciate the compliment, Nick, you've never seen me naked...your opinion would change, trust me."

Nick's eyes flared with a new kind of intensity. "I highly doubt that."

"His did," you said quietly.

"He clearly didn't know what he had."

Your eyes met his, shoulders tense, discomfort obvious in every movement you made.

"Listen to me, (Y/N). I'll say it as many times as it takes for you to believe me--I think you're gorgeous. Stunning. Elegante. Sin fin perfecta." [Elegant. Endlessly perfect.] He reached for your hand and you let him take it in his. "You are a prize, (Y/N). Any man worth a damn would be honored to call you his."

You didn't know what to say. His words surprised you and warmed your soul at the same time. You could also feel the familiar tightening in your gut, accompanied by an entire swarm of butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"Forget every terrible thing he ever said to you, hermosa. Let me fill your mind with praise. Let me remind you of your beauty, inside and out, of your brilliance, of your kindness, your empathy...of all the little things that make you the incredible woman you are."

"Nick..." you whispered, his name the only coherent thing you were able to utter.

The moment was shattered by the arrival of your food. You'd been hungry when you sat down at the table, but your body was now flooded with a very different kind of hunger--a hunger you now believed Nick shared.

"Thank you, Nick," you said softly. "I know it's not nearly enough, but thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. I meant every word."

You gave him a small smile. "Still..."

He returned the expression.

The two of you ate in silence for several minutes, minds clearly elsewhere. After a while, Nick noticed you'd done more moving the food around the plate than actually eating and he called you out on it.

"Eat your food, querida. You'll need your strength."

Your head snapped up, eyes meeting his gaze. "For what?"

He leaned forward. "If you'll let me, I'm going to spend several hours showing you exactly how sexy I think you are."

You gulped. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

He grinned wolfishly. "By worshipping that amazing body of yours...over and over again, until you're screaming my name."

You suddenly found it very difficult to breathe, let alone eat. Nick, on the other hand, went right back to eating his food as if he hadn't just threatened you with an incredibly good time.

You had to force yourself to focus on your food, desperately trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs.

As soon as the meal was over, Nick asked for the check and paid, revealing just how desperate he was to get back to your place.

Once again, he helped you into the car, only this time his hand lingered on the small of your back.

Anticipation flooded through you as Nick drove through the streets of the city. You'd wanted him for so long--never once thinking he'd reciprocate the desire. Despite his words earlier in the evening, you still felt a shred of self-doubt...worrying he might not find you as attractive once you were naked.

"Where's that pretty head at, querida?" he asked softly, noticing your anxiety.

"Can you promise me something?"

"Of course."

"If you don't want to go through with this...you know, when you see me without my clothes on...please just tell me. I don't want you to feel like you have to do something you don't wanna do."

He reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. "I don't have to promise that because I know what I want, (Y/N)...and that's you. You could be a alien underneath those clothes and I'd still want you."

You laughed lightly. "I promise I'm not an alien."

He grinned. "Then we're gonna be just fine, baby."

You closed your eyes, silently willing yourself to believe him. You trusted him with your life--something you'd never experienced with any of your past relationships. Every fiber of your being told you Nick would never hurt you on purpose--never. You just needed to trust him--let go of your pain and give in to your desires.

When you finally made it back to your apartment, Nick gave you a gentle reminder. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, (Y/N)."

"I want to," you whispered.

He inhaled slowly and took a step towards you. "Say 'no' or 'stop' and I'll stop immediately, okay? No hard feelings--I won't push you."

"I don't want to say no, Nick."

He took another step towards you, effectively backing you against the wall. "If you wanna stop--"

"Nick, please just kiss me," you begged softly.

He groaned softly before leaning in to press his lips to yours. His kiss was like fire and ice--more addictive than any drug known to man. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to breathe--like he would rather suffocate to death than stop.

He pressed his warm body against yours, wedging his knee between your thighs to keep you from squeezing them together. His tongue tangled with yours, quickly asserting dominance as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands went to the buttons on his white button down, quickly undoing them in a desperate need to feel his skin. He helped you remove the shirt, followed by his undershirt, leaving his toned chest bare for you to see.

You bit your lip and stifled a soft groan as you appreciated his form.

"You can touch me, querida," he said softly. "I wanna feel your soft hands on my skin."

You did as he asked, hands gliding over his smooth, tan skin. He sighed softly and leaned into your touch, lips grazing your jaw affectionately.

Your hands traveled to his hips and you began to loosen his belt. He allowed you to unbutton his pants and he helped you remove them.

"I think you're a bit overdressed for the occasion, hermosa," he teased huskily.

You tensed slightly, a feeling of dread washing over you.

Of course, Nick felt it and instantly began to sooth your worries. "You can keep on as much as you want, querida, but I want to see you. I've wanted to touch you like this since the day I met you. But if you're more comfortable keeping your clothes on, that's alright."

You looked up at him, his dark eyes warm and honest. You took a deep breath and pushed him back slightly, giving yourself the room to pull your dress off over your head.

You dropped your dress to the ground, but your eyes didn't meet his gaze--you couldn't even bring yourself to look at his face, too afraid of what you might see there.

"Querida, por favor," Nick whispered. "Look at me."

You looked up at him slowly, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you took in his hungry expression.

"I wanna kiss every square inch of your beautiful body, hermosa. Will you let me?"

You nodded tentatively.

"I need to hear you say it, baby," he pleaded.

"I want you Nick, please."

He groaned and pressed his body against yours again. "Say that again, querida."

"I want you," you whispered.

"Fuck--" He slammed his lips against yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth almost immediately. You melted in his arms, reveling in the feeling of his body against yours.

He finally pulled away to catch his breath, but his hands didn't leave your body. Now that he'd touched you so intimately, he never wanted to stop.

"Come with me," he whispered, before guiding you to your bedroom. "Lay down on the bed for me, querida."

You did as he asked, noticing how his eyes never left your body.

He made sure you were looking at him before he began to lower his boxer briefs, slowly revealing his large cock. He was already painfully hard, a bead of precum lingering at the tip.

You licked your lips in anticipation, an action he noticed with pride.

"Like what you see, hermosa?"

"Very much so."

He smiled and climbed onto the bed, covering your soft body with his hard one. "May I take off your bra?"

You nodded.

"Baby..." he said in a clear warning tone.

You understood his meaning instantly, a flood of arousal going straight to your core at the order. "Yes, papi."

His eyes widened for a moment, surprised and pleased at your use of the title. "Such a good girl, aren't you?"

A soft moan left your lips at the praise and he smiled to himself, pleased he was able to suss out what you liked.

His hand snaked around your back, deftly unclasping your bra with surprising ease. The moment your breasts were bared to his gaze, his mouth descended on you, taking a pert nipple into his mouth.

You moaned softly, fingers intertwining into his dark locks. His lips and hands massaged your breasts, giving them equal attention. True to his word, he moved tantalizingly slowly down your body, kissing every inch of skin he could, while avoiding where you needed him most.

By the time he made his way back up to your face, you were begging him to touch your pussy--pleading for some relief.

"Nick, please--I need you."

"What did you call me?" he asked harshly.

Your eyes widened lustfully. "I'm sorry, papi!"

He smiled, ghosting his fingers across your still-clothed pussy. "That's my good girl."

You whimpered at the feather-light touches he placed to your mound, desperate for more. "Please, papi."

"Hmm? Qué deseas?" [What do you want?]

"Please touch me," you begged.

"I am touching you, querida."

"More, papi. Please!"

He smiled. "Normally I'd take my time teasing you--making you beg for what you want...but if I'm being honest, I'm as desperate to touch you as you are to feel it, so I'll be nice to you this time."

He tugged your panties off quickly before spreading your thighs as wide as he could, revealing your dripping wet folds.

"All this for me, baby?" he growled.

"Only you, papi," you responded.

"Yeah? No one else makes you this wet?"

You shook your head vehemently. "No one else."

"Now I have one rule, hermosa. I wanna hear you--every little sound coming out of that pretty mouth. Be as loud as you want. Entiendes?" [Understand?]

"Si, papi," you whimpered.

He smirked as he lowered himself down onto the bed between your legs. His strong hands gripped your hips and he tugged you as close to his face as he could before diving into your pussy with a deep groan of pleasure.

You gasped at the sensation, the sound quickly becoming moans of enjoyment. Nick was quite skilled with his mouth--his tongue alone made you feel things you'd never before experienced.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at the roots as you desperately sought your release.

Nick held you in place as he continued his assault on your pussy, ensuring he had complete control over your pleasure.

"Feels so good," you gasped. "Gonna cum, papi."

He groaned against your clit, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. He could feel how close you were by the way your thighs tried to close and your grip on his hair tightened.

Your moans became more desperate--needy, and he slid two fingers into your pussy, gently pressing into your g-spot rapidly.

You cried out, legs shaking slightly, seconds before your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. His name left your lips in a gasped scream as he worked you through your high, only stopping when you began to squirm away.

You were completely breathless when he lifted his head, mouth and chin soaked in your juices. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth on his hand, licking it clean as he maintained eye contact with you. "You taste so good baby...I can't get enough."

You reached for him and he obliged, leaning forward to kiss you softly. You tasted yourself on his lips and tongue, a soft sound of pleasure escaping into his mouth.

"Querida," he whispered against your lips. "I need to be inside you."

"Please," you whimpered.

"Do you have protection?"

"I'm on the pill..."

"I'm clean," he assured you.

"Me too."

He lined his cock up with your entrance and looked back up at your face. "Are you sure, hermosa?"

"Si papi. I want you to fuck me."

He groaned softly before thrusting into you, sheathing himself fully inside of you in one swift movement.

You cried out, the stretch both overwhelming and extremely pleasurable all at once. You clutched his neck and he breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart.

"You can move," you whispered.

"Not yet, querida. I need a moment."

"Are you okay?" you asked in concern.

"Your pussy feels so damn incredible, baby...I'm just trying to control myself so I don't hurt you."

You bit your lip and lifted his face up to look at you. "I like a little bit of pain, papi." You clenched your pussy tightly for emphasis.

"Mierda," he ground out. "You sure?"

"Fuck me senseless, Nick. Por favor."

As much as he loved you calling him 'papi', hearing you say his name like that made him feral. He pulled out and thrust back in harshly, starting a fast, hard pace.

"Baby, say my name again," he begged.

"Nick," you moaned lowly.

"Fuck." He was fucking you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do and you'd never experienced anything like it.

You felt the coil tightening in your abdomen, and for the first time in your life, you knew you were going to cum during penetration. Your moans were loud enough to wake the neighbors, your nails dug into his muscular back, and your pussy had his cock in a vice grip.

"You gonna cum for me, (Y/N)?"

You nodded rapidly, unable to voice a response. The only thing coming out of your mouth was a string of incoherent moans and pleas.

"I wanna feel you cum, baby. Cubre mi polla." [Coat my cock.]

"Nick!" you whined.

"What do you need, querida? Tell me."

"More," you whimpered.

He slipped his hand between your bodies and began to gently massage your clit. "This what you need, baby?"

"Nick!" you screamed. "Don't stop!"

"That's it, baby. That's it. I've got you. Cum for me, querida. Ven por mí." [Come for me.]

You cried out in ecstasy as the waves of pleasure overwhelmed your senses. You clung to him desperately, as if he was a life raft while you were adrift in the ocean.

He began to chase his own high as you came down, your awareness coming back to you. His thrusts were fast and rough, his breathing ragged.

"I want you to cum for me, papi. Fill me up," you begged.

"Dios mio! You feel so good, baby. Wanna cum for you."

You clenched your pussy as tightly as you could, desperate for him to enjoy this as much as you did.

"(Y/N)!" he cried out as he came, his hot seed filling you up.

His thrusts slowed and faltered before he finally collapsed on top of you, breathless and satiated.

You held him close, running your fingers through his hair as he caught his breath. You were a little worried he would regret this now that it was over, but your fears were assuaged the moment he lifted his head to look at you.

His beautiful brown eyes were warm and loving as he gazed at you, happiness and contentment clear in his expression. "That was incredible," he murmured softly.

You blushed slightly. "You were incredible."

"As were you, querida."

He pressed his lips to yours as he pulled himself up. He rolled onto his side and pulled you with him, so your head rested against his chest.

"I'm thinking we take a power nap, then we go for round two," Nick said softly.

"Round two?!"

He grinned. "I did promise you I was gonna worship this sexy body of yours for hours."

"I didn't think you were serious, Nick," you said with a chuckle.

"Oh, baby, I'm always serious about worshipping you. I think you'll learn that very quickly."

You smiled and kissed his chest softly. You debated whether you wanted to voice the question that popped into your head, but once again, Nick beat you to it.

"You know this isn't a one time thing, right?" Nick asked gently. "I mean, unless you want it to be."

You looked up at him, expression soft and affectionate. "I was actually just going to ask you that."

He grinned. "So...you saying you might wanna see me again?"

"I see you every day, Nick," you teased.

"I mean like this, hermosa. Naked in your bed, making you scream my name, giving you as much pleasure as your pretty little body will take."

Your breath hitched in your chest, giving away just how badly you wanted that. "That too."

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. "If I'm lucky, you'll let me take you out more too. Dinner, dancing, walks in the park, musicals...whatever you want. Wherever you go, I want to be there too."

Your eyes widened in surprise and tears filled them. You'd never had someone speak to you the way Nick did, let alone want to be with you in the way he just described.

"Querida," he whispered as he wiped your eyes. "Don't cry."

"Tears of joy," you assured him. "I promise."

His expression warmed, filling with the love and admiration he clearly felt for you. "So you'll be mine then? Exclusively?"

Your lips parted and you smiled. "I would love that."

He smiled back. "Thank god...because whether you knew it or not, I've been yours exclusively for the past year."

"What?"

He blushed slightly. "I...well I've wanted to be with you since my marriage fell apart, but I didn't want you to think you were some kind of rebound, so I kept myself professional. It's gotten harder and harder to do and then seeing you dating someone who treated you so terribly knowing full-well I would die for you made it nearly impossible."

"I didn't know," you whispered.

"I went to great lengths to make sure of that," Nick said softly. "But now that I have you? Now that I know what it's like to touch you, hold you, kiss you, make love to you? Baby, I can't walk away. You're stuck with me."

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, straddling his strong body. You leaned down to kiss him softly, pouring all of your emotion into the kiss. "There's no one I'd rather be stuck with, Nick Amaro," you whispered against his lips.

He grinned and wrapped his arms around you, kissing you with as much passion as he could muster. He was determined to spend every minute of the rest of his life making sure you knew how incredible you were, how much he appreciated you, and how madly in love with you he would always be.

#nick amaro x reader #nick amaro x reader smut #nick amaro x plus size reader #nick amaro x plus size reader smut #nick amaro smut #law and order svu #law and order svu smut

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p3ndeja6 · 7 months ago

Text

₊ ⊹🪻 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🔮

n.amaro x reader

summary: you were younger then nick by a couple of years, and sometimes he’d come over to your apartment after late nights at the precinct, he’d come over to just enjoy peace and serenity

content: fluff, reader is in school (2nd or 3rd year of college) suggestive acts (nothing extreme), age gap!, mentions of sexual abuse due to svu cases, nothing too triggering, just a fluffy one shot overall

super short

✧ ✧

it was late at night, you were working on an essay that was due by the end of the week.. you were getting strained and decided to take a break and call it a day.

You made yourself a quick meal, spicy buldak noodles, a sandwich and your favorite drink that was saved in the fridge. You prepared your meal as you were watching your favorite show. you were almost done preparing your late-night snack when you heard the doorknob shake.

You lived a pretty safe vicinity so the chances of a burgler were slim, but you still were vigilant about your safety, you quickly grabbed your broom and held it tight.

Upon your discovery, the door opened and you saw your boyfriend… nick.

You sighed of relief, and he looked at you worried

“Jesus Nick, you scared me!” “geez sorry, i thought this neighbor was safe?”

you put the broom down, “I mean it is but you never know” “yeah.. tell me about it”

he walked to you as you went back in finishing preparing your ramen, he went behind you and grabbed you hips and nuzzled his head in between your neck, kissing you, making you giggle due to his stubble

he continued and you moved your head slightly to give him more access, he took this as a sign to continue. You tried not to get distracted but you let a soft moan escape.

he laughed,and started moving up your body; cupping your boobs. You laughed and finally pushed him away

“stop Nick” you laughed “I want to eat, I’ve been working on an assignment for the past 5 hours.” he let go and laughed “my hard working girl, okay okay I’ll let you eat but next time, you’re all mine!”

you shook your head in sarcasm, he took of his jacket and unbuttoned his white shirt a couple of buttons down, and took off his shoes. He adjusted himself on your couch, and laid there with his eyes closed taking in the aroma therapy essential oils diffuser thats going around your room.

you look at him, now realizing that he’s here strangely. Nick stops by late nights most weekends or if it’s a weekday he’ll let you know earlier in the day if he’s stopping by, but it’s currently a Tuesday at 12:36 am.

“hey Nick?”

he hummed in response, most likely getting sleepy

“not to sound rude or anything.. but why are you here? It’s late on a Tuesday night, shouldn’t you be at your place?”

He opened one eye and looked over at you

“do you not want me here?” He said a bit suspicious

“oh god, no like yeah I do, but I just realized what day it was and you know you usually let me know when you’re coming over and it’s usually weekends you spend the night with me, I just found it odd you came to visit me tonight” “I love it when you’re here really”

you finally finished your ramen and took it towards the couch where Nick was, and started eating as you waited for a response.

he was hesitant in his answer, he seemed stressed and frustrated.

“today we had a tough case.. a rape case..”

you look at him attentively, making sure you are hearing him and that he has your fullest attention.

you nod in continuous

“and well… it’s about a 8 year old girl who’s after school teacher has been acting inappropriately with her.. you know like touching her where she shouldn’t be touched”

“oh my god” was what you let out

“yeah, and her home life isn’t easy, this one was a bit tough to work on dude to how young and bright this little girl is. I hate to see anyone take it away from her”

you put your ramen down and get close to him, caressing his hand.

“and being here.. with you just brings me peace. All is perfect here, so sorry i came unexpected but i really needed to see you”

you smiled at him

“awe baby, you know you are always welcomed here, I love having you here, never goes a day where I don’t miss you”

you make him look at you and caress his cheek, looking so attentively at his eyes, leaning in and kissing him so gracefully.

he takes you in, and guides a hand on your neck. You move to his lap and continue to kiss him, sucking on each others lips, and you slightly grinding on him

he groans a bit and you continue to bit his lip. You pull away with his lip in between your teeth and stare at him and run a finger across his now plumped lips

“thank you for coming over”

“thank you for having me”

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escapingrealtiylovinginsanity · 7 months ago

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Nick Amaro: Drunk

This has been sitting in my drafts for months. So, I decided to finish it up. This was an idea that I was really excited about that I had a really hard time writing and just kind of lost it. Hope you enjoy it anyhow xoxo

You hear a brief knock on your door before it's thrown open. You hear a scuff of feet and enough of a ruckus for you to check to see what is going on. Finn had Nick halfway through the doorway when you turned the corner to the door. A simple once over told you that your boyfriend was very drunk. More than you have ever seen him. You knew that he had been having a bad week. He had been working on a particularly bad case. “Cariño, luz de mi vida (Sweetheart, light of my life).” Nick’s Spanish was slurred but he sounded upbeat and happy.

“Hey amor,” You greet Nick before smiling at Finn. You thank him for bringing Nick home and wave him way when he offers to help get him to bed. You can tell that Nick isn’t planning on sleeping anytime soon. You can almost feel his energy humming through his veins. You're glad that Zara was already asleep for the night.

“Have you eaten?” He smiles guiltily. You shake your head but don’t comment on his normal meal-skipping behavior. You peck a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll make you a sandwich, maybe it will soak up some of that alcohol.” He mentioned something about the bathroom as he staggers that way. You head to the kitchen and start pulling out the bread.

You had barely laid out all the ingredients when Nick’s arms wrapped around you. He nuzzled his face into your neck, the beginning growth of a beard scrapping at your sensitive skin. You laughed as he stumbled forward into you making you throw the butter knife you had been using to spread mayo on the bread. “Baby, do you want to sit down? I’ll bring this to you in a minute.”

“No te dejaré hermosa (No I won’t leave you beautiful). Nothing could take me away from you.” You smile looking over your shoulder at him. He was leaving sloppy kisses on your neck and jaw. He murmured drunk nonsense into your skin rocking back and forth on his feet. You caress his forearms, as his hands make circles on your hips. You hum back to his Spanish gibberish to let him know you are listening.

When you finish you stumble with him over to the couch. You gently push on his chest for him to sit down. You handed him the sandwich and he took no time taking a huge bite. You go to the kitchen to grab Nick a glass of ice water and snag a bag of chips on the way back. Nick was back on his feet and when he sees you walk back into the room, he lights up like he hadn’t seen you in weeks. “Siéntate, (sit down)”

Nick is surprisingly agreeable in his drunk state and does as you ask without question. You push the water into his hand and he dutifully drinks, downing half of it in one pull. You set the chips on the coffee table, but his hands reach for your hips instead. His arms go around you again and he presses his face into your stomach. You smile to yourself running your fingers through Nick’s hair. It was on the longer side, and you sadly knew he would end up cutting it soon.

You had heard the stereotype that Latino men were typically very affectionate when they were drunk. Nick didn’t drink to excess though, you had never seen him this way. While Nick loved receiving affection, he wasn’t big on initiating or asking for it. Apparently, drunk Nick didn’t have that same problem. His inhibitions were wiped away with the alcohol buzzing in his veins.

You find yourself draped across his lap an old Telenovela on the TV. His calloused hands caressing your body. You laugh to yourself as one of his hands finds your ass, sliding into your back pocket where it stays for the rest of the night. Nick starts to get drowsy less than ten minutes into the second episode. You persuade him upstairs and into your bedroom. You help him strip down to his boxers. Then he pulls you to lie down with him.

Nick comes down the stairs holding his head late into the morning. Zara was already up watching TV and coloring her princess coloring book. You were in the kitchen cleaning up breakfast when Nick trudged in. You turn fling the towel you had been wiping the counters down over your shoulder. Nick poured himself a cup of coffee and turned to lean back on the counter. He purposely avoids your eyes. You shift feeling his tension, “How are you feeling mi amour?”

He sips it before sighing loudly, “Okay, let’s just get this over with, how bad was I?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Um... I mean you were pretty drunk?” Your tone made it seem more like a question. But Nick was eyeing you wearily like he was expecting a lecture or a fight.

“And?”

“And what baby? I don't know what you want me to say. We ate and went to sleep. I made you breakfast.” You gestured to a plate of French toast. His dark eyes met yours searching them for something. He slumps rubbing his eyes as he sets his cup on the counter.

“I’m sorry. Maria used to chew my ass out after I would drink like that. She used to also complain that I would get too handsy. That I overstepped- So, if I was-”

“Nick, you weren’t. Not at all- well your hand was on my ass for the majority of the night but that's not really out of the ordinary.” He chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his waist trailing them up his back. He slides both hands down to your ass for a quick but firm squeeze. It makes both of you smile.

You would normally let it go, and act like the little moment was nothing. If it hadn’t seemed like a festering wound that needed healing. Maybe there was a bigger reason Nick was so careful about how much he drank. “Hey, I don’t know what Maria was talking about, I don't know what she experienced- but last night all you wanted was to cuddle and watch telenovelas on TV.”

#svu #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #nick amaro #nick amaro x reader #nick amaro x you #nick amaro imagine

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etclouie-masterlists · 5 months ago

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𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 NCIS + SVU masterlist

ᯓᡣ𐭩 about making requests

ᯓᡣ𐭩 back to main masterlist?

— ୨୧₊˚ Anthony Dinozzo | masterlist

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ #𝜗𝜚 tony dinzozzo

— ୨୧₊˚ Timothy McGee | masterlist

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ #𝜗𝜚 tim mcgee

— ୨୧₊˚ Gibbs | masterlist

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ #𝜗𝜚 gibbs

— ୨୧₊˚ Elliot Stabler | masterlist

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ #𝜗𝜚 elliot stabler

— ୨୧₊˚ Rafael Barba | masterlist

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ #𝜗𝜚 rafael barba

— ୨୧₊˚ Nick Amaro | masterlist

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ #𝜗𝜚 nick amaro

— ୨୧₊˚ Dominic 'Sonny' Carisi | masterlist

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ #𝜗𝜚 sonny carisi

requests are open here !

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urrockstar-xe · 1 year ago

Text

❤the xe-verse❤

here to help navigate ur journey thru the xe-verse!

❥ a little about me

requests are open!! please read the link above before sending asks

one-shots and imagines banners by @cafekitsune

❥ fem!reader - ★

❥ gn!reader - ☆

❥ platonic!reader - ✧

❥ smutty - ♥︎

fics under the cut :D

❥ imagines (definitions are wacky so in this case it's anything under 600 words)

tears, panic, noise. - chad meeks-martin ✧ ★

pretty - chad meeks-martin ★

study buddy - chad meeks-martin ☆

please, please, please - dick grayson ★

pros n cons - tasm!peter parker ★

❥ headcanons

jj maybank w a girly gf

steven grant w a witchy gf

❥ oneshots

potions test - sirius black ★

alone time - peter pettigrew ★

delicate lover - steve harrington ★

nail polish - steve harrington ★

six months - jj maybank ★

stargazing - jj maybank ★

meant for each other - jj maybank ★

bad friend - jj maybank ★

baby blanket - jj maybank ★

talk fast - jj maybank ★

got your back - jj maybank ★

comfort - jj maybank ★

never enough - jj maybank ★

precious - jj maybank ★

happy birthday - jj maybank ★

if u leave me - jj maybank ★

you are everything- jj maybank ★

melodic love - chad meeks-martin ★

liquid courage - chad meeks-martin ★

movie nights n pretty girls - chad meeks-martin ★

sneaking out - tara carpenter ★

i'll be right there, sweetheart - tasm!peter parker ★

math test - tasm!peter parker ★

detective sweetheart - nick amaro ★

❥ series

🕷 starstruck - tasm!peter parker ★

winter formal - starstruck pt 2

♡ the pogues react to pregnant!reader - a jj maybank headcanon ★

❥ Holiday specials

❥ valentine's day

forgotten valentines - peter parker ☆

steven's first v-day - steven grant ☆

3 teen boys vs 1 pretty girl - jj maybank ★

fuck valentine's day - elliot from euphoria ☆

valentine's day with dick grayson - a headcanon ☆

❥flufftober

mav n goose - jj maybank★

❥ xemas

decorating the tree - frank castle ☆

wrapping presents - steve harrington ☆

family scrapbooks - steve harrington ☆✧

snow day - marauders ☆

looking at lights - marauders ☆

mistletoe mishaps - jason todd ★

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kryptonitejelly · 1 year ago

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nick amaro x reader // law and order SVU

yes, we are going there - what have i done 😭 no plot, really. just a moment.

The last thing Nick had expected to find when walking back into the SVU bullpen was you; and yet, here he was, eyes fixed on you as his strides quickened. He notices Fin’s smirk that finds itself aimed his way as he weaves his way between Amanda and Liv to get to you, but he ignores it.

He lets his gaze drag itself over your form, head down on his desk, the lamp on his desk casting a soft glow around your features; the extra suit jacket he leaves hanging on the back of his chair draped over your shoulders. You have a laptop open in front of you, a case file and note pad within reach, all topped off by an uncapped pen lying caged between your curled fingers. He sees the pair of heels which you had shed, one standing, one lying on its side peeking out from under his desk. A dip of his gaze reveals the deep green of the dress which you had on, one of his favourite dresses on you - one that he knew you had worn in to work today in anticipation of Friday having supposed to be date night.

Nick slows his pace as he approaches you, content in the few seconds to allow himself to watch the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders. The sight stirs a mix of emotions in his chest - the swell of emotion that came rushing in whenever he set his eyes on you, and a heavy tinge of guilt. Guilt that he had to cancel the first date night you both had managed to plan after weeks of clashing schedules, guilt that you taken it so well, and guilt that you had somehow found your way here, to the SVU bullpen so that you could both head home together.

Nick drops to a knee, bringing himself to eye level with your face. He raises his hand to cup the side of your face gently. His touch on your skin is light, soft, but it makes you stir immediately.

“Hey,” Nick’s voice grounds you as you let your mind grind to a start, your surroundings shifting into focus. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought we could go home together,” your lips furl up into a gentle smile, voice soft, your eyes, still hazy with sleep, locked onto Nick’s. You forget your bearings for a moment until you hear a cough from behind Nick as various footsteps shuffle into the bullpen. You straighten up slowly, blinking the sleep from your eyes, legs stretching out beneath you as you offer a wave to the rest of the team trudging in.

“An ADA slumming it at Amaro’s desk?” Fin muses, voice joking and light.

“What would Barba say,” Munch follows, expression deadpan.

“Unbecoming isn’t it?” Liv continues with a quirk of one end of her lip.

“What can I say,” you play along, “not all of us have Barba’s flair.”

“Clearly,” Amanda states, looking pointedly at Nick which earns a series of chuckles from the rest of the team and yourself.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick waves a hand in the air dismissively, but his gaze doesn’t leave you. You tilt your body downward slightly, hands reaching for your discarded heels. Nick notices and he is back on a knee in one fluid motion.

“Nick,” you protest as he places a hand along your calf, his other propping your heel up, helping you back into your heels. You hazard a glance behind your boyfriend, only to find the rest of the team, tactfully busying themselves with their desks. “I’m not Cinderalla,” you state, but with no real protest as you let him guide your other heel back on.

“I’m not your Prince Charming?” He teases, not caring who else heard, giving your calf a gentle squeeze before winking at you and straightening back into a stand.

“I’ll get back to you on that,” you pull a face as you turn to gather your belongings, making quick work of shoving them into your bag with Nick’s help.

“Way to hurt a man,” he places a hand on his chest as you shrug his spare jacket off your shoulders; Nick takes it from you, hanging it back on his chair.

“She could hurt you more” Fin cuts in again with a sing-song voice. It makes you chuckle, as you catch a wink Amanda throws in your direction.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be Detective Tutuola,” Nick asks all while shrugging off the jacket on his shoulders to place it over yours, letting it hang off your frame. He flicks off the light switch on his desk and picks your bag up.

“If I say no, will you let me tag along?”

Your yes comes at the same time as Nick’s absolutely not, and it earns you another series of chuckles around the room.

“Don’t call me till Monday,” Nick calls out, while threading his fingers through yours as he starts to guide you towards the lift. You barely manage to call out a goodbye, before the lift doors shut on you both.

“I didn’t-” your protest is cut short by Nick’s lips on yours, his free hand circling your waist, going over the fabric of his jacket on your shoulders. You let yourself sink into the kiss, hand sliding up his shoulder and behind his neck as the lift descends to the parking garage.

“I’m sorry I had to cancel today,” he says, forehead resting against yours as he breaks the kiss. His eyes are closed, but you flicker yours open as you run your hand from the back of his neck to cup the side of his jaw.

“You have nothing to apologise for Detective Amaro,” you end with the professional term of address in attempt to diffuse some of the guilt you see in his eyes. “Work,” you continue with a light shrug - Nick was a victim of you cancelling on him as well, and you understood.

“I was really looking forward to tonight,” he says, still apologetic as he finally opens his eyes while leaning his face into your palm.

“I can think of a few ways you can spend the rest of the weekend making it up to me,” you say, dropping your voice to a lower, almost sultry tone as you lean into him, pressing the front of your body into his. Nick responds by pulling you in closer, his hand dipping down the hem of his jacket on your shoulders to slide down onto the curve of your ass.

“Take me home Detective Amaro,” you say as the lift door dings open.

“Your wish is my command,” Nick says in response, taking the opportunity to sear another quick kiss onto your lips before tugging you out of the lift.

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rqgnarok · 3 months ago

Text

a house upon the hill - nolan price

love you better now (sequel, original work)- leave a light on (prequel part 1) - this work is prequel part 2 but can be read individually!

fandom: law & order, law & order special victims unit

wc: 8,838

warnings: conversations about ptsd and ptsd episodes, aftermath of a traumatic event. canon presence of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, and hospitals. female reader

summary: after being shot and waking up in the hospital, the relief of your survival is short-lived.

ao3 / masterlist / buy me a coffee!

author's note below!

The relief of your survival is short-lived.

You’re tired and in pain, the doctors slowly wear you off the meds and your answers to how are doing? gets shorter and shorter to anyone who asks. Your grip around Nolan’s hand tightens further every time someone comes and goes, and by the time you’re leaving the hospital the bags under your eyes are prominent, your cheeks sharper than they were when you first got there.

Nolan, the trooper, writes down and listens carefully to all the instructions given to him about your care. He packs your bags with all the things he brought from your appartment and the get-well-soon gifts given by family and friends. He doen’t notice you shifting restlessly as he struggles to manhandle the wheelchair, regarding it with distrust.

“Okay,” he says faux brightly, hands at his hips and looking between you and the wheelchair. “You ready to get out of here?”

Your smile is brittle as you nod. That should be Nolan’s first clue, how you don’t rise to the banter at the first chance of it. “Alright, come here. The nurse will kill me if I let you pop your stitches.”

Your jaw tightens but you go, holding onto Nolan and digging your fingers into his arms when you rise off the bed and your body feels like it’s being lit on fire. You curse under your breath and Nolan catches it, tries to meet your eye while you struggle to conceal how much you’re hurting.

“If you need a second–”

“I’m fine.”

“Honey, you can’t push yourself too hard,” he reminds you as if you don’t know. “This type of thing doesn’t heal overnight. We can take as long as you need.”

“I just want to go home,” you say, and it sounds so much like begging it makes you sick, makes you mad. “Just– can you just help me out here, please?”

“You just gotta–”

Your reply is biting. “I know, Nolan.”

The room is engulfed by silence. His hands tense where they’re holding you but to Nolan’s credit, he doesn’t let go, even if his mouth is now set in an upset, even line.Your guilt rises like waves but your annoyance drowns it out, and there’s no apology made as you finally sit in the wheelchair, exhaling in relief.

Nolan doesn’t let go until you’re settled in nicely, and even then he remains close; gripping the handles of the chair and standing behind you where you can’t see him.

You’re buried under two sweatshirts and a coat, but the lack of touch leaves you cold nevertheless.

Your almost-month long stay at the hospital has left your home rotting in neglect. Your furniture lays under a thin layer of dust and the dishes from your last dinner together are still in the dishwasher. The dirty laundry hamper is about to blow.

Nolan appears sheepish when your eyes inevitably go towards the chaos, expression unreadable. He’s got his arm around your waist and his grip is tight as you make your way through the apartment. “I was hoping for time to clean up a little before you came home, but I’ll take care of it, promise.”

“It’s fine,” you say, monotone. Nolan can’t really read into it, unsure if you mean it or not. Halfway to the bedroom, you dig your nails into his shoulder, pulling him to a stop near the couch. “This. Here. Here is fine.”

Nolan frowns disapprovingly. “You should really lay down.”

“I can lay down here,” you say, stubborn as always but through gritted teeth. “I don’t wanna go to bed, okay, just– here is fine.”

Nolan visibly disagrees but relents, his mind still stuck in the way you’d snapped at him back at the hospital. You unclench slightly when he finally stops touching you, body limp on the couch. Nolan tries not to bristle.

It’s the first of many uncomfortable, tense interactions. You can’t move around the house on your own and stiffen whenever Nolan reaches out to support you. You’re quiet and short when you’re not, trying and failing to keep everything polite.

You drive each other crazy. Nolan works from home as much as he can and you don’t work at all. No matter how much you beg Cragen to send you some files, your day remains sans responsibilities. There are only so many reruns of Seinfeld you can stand before you’re making up a psychological profile for each of the characters just for the hell of it before you realize you’re losing your damn mind.

“What happened?” he asks one afternoon when you don’t come out for dinner. You’re lying face down on the made bed, curtains drawn shut. When you don’t answer, don’t move, Nolan’s voice turns sharp, calling your name. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” you snap, muffled by the sheets. Your sigh takes over your entire body, pushing yourself up to glare at him. “Nothing. Fucking nothing. Cragen won’t let me back without a therapist’s okay, alright? But other than that, everything’s perfect.”

“Isn’t that standard procedure?” he asks, sitting on the bed with a bowl of pasta on his lap. Your frown deepens like he’s the one who’s keeping you locked inside the house against your will.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Do you know how many people I’ve seen get shot in this job? I don’t see why this is necessary.”

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” he says, quietly.

“You know how department’s shrinks are,” he has never heard you speak about psychological aid with such hatred. “But Stabler used to get a pat on the back and he’d be back to work within the hour. Go figure.”

“And look how that worked out for him,” Nolan says, the wrong thing to add, he can tell, for how you settle back into bed and refuse to face him. He sighs and speaks to your back. “What else did the Captain say?”

“‘You want back on the field, come to my office with discharge papers from Dr. Masters office,” you parrot in a poor imitation of Captain Cragen. “Other than that, he’ll be sending some paperwork my way. As if that’s the fucking point.”

Nolan lets the silence stretch, unsure of how to follow up. He flinches when you turn to scream into the pillow, raw and frustrated. You say, venomous. “Motherfucker.”

He leaves your dinner on the bedside table and leaves without a word like a chastised child, feeling like he’s walking away from something bigger than your wirldwind temper.

—

It gets better before it gets worse. There are days in which you don’t utter a single word and walk through the apartment like you’re haunting it; from bed to the living room to the kitchen, unaware or uncaring of Nolan’s presence. Others, you’re out the door as soon as you’re physically able, disappearing for hours on end, phone off to Nolan’s alarmed dismay.

He calls Liv, Cragen, Munch, anyone who knows you and has the resources to pull a nation wide man hunt until he realizes you always come back and it’s better to welcome you than drive you away by asking questions. Those conversations usually lead to one of you sleeping on the couch and your injuries are still a little too tender for Nolan to let you pass the night on that old thing.

One night he leaves the bedroom for a glass of water and finds you standing in front of the open window in just your pajamas. The air is chilly and your skin is covered in goosebumps, but it’s the look on your face that scares Nolan the most.

“Honey,” Nolan, bleary and confused, comes up behind you. You don’t even flinch. It wakes him up quicker than anything else ever has. Saying your name urgently, he wonders, “What are you doing? It’s freezing.”

“It’s fine,” you say, detached, not even there. You blink, staring dazedly into the night. You don’t snap out of it as he leads you back into your room.

When he asks you about it the following morning you just stare at him, blank-faced, without a single memory of the event.

To no one’s surprise, Dr. Masters gently refuses to sign your discharge papers after two months of leave and therapy sessions. Cragen takes one look at you and caves, albeit hesitantly, to reinstate you to a desk job as long as you follow the mandated breaks to talk about your feelings in an office that smells too much like lavender and vanilla.

You hate it. Absolutely abhor it. Dr. Masters, just like everyone else, wants you to talk about the shooting and nothing else. It doesn’t matter that your memory betrays you, keeping the event locked away in some faraway corner of your mind. According to her, refusing to acknowledge it is refusing to heal from it.

It leaves you short-fused. Home is a few curt words of polite conversation before you begin to snap, annoyed at Nolan’s placid attitude. Even the squad begins to lose their patience, you find yourself in Cragen’s office more often than not, glowering like a kid sent to the principal.

“Talk to me,” is all he says, not we’ve already been too lenient with you or shouldn’t you be over it by now? because he genuinely cares about you, which warms and enrages you all at once.

“What,” you say, purposely dense, arms crossed defensively.

“You’re biting heads off out there like you’re a suspect for a crime,” Cragen replies, no-nonsense. “You’re not in trouble here, I just want to know what’s going on.”

“It’s not on me that no one gets shit done around here,” you lean back against the chair, tense shoulders and sweaty hands. “We wouldn’t be so slammed if you all worried about me a little less. I’m fine.”

“Right,” Cragen says, waiting you out.

“You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me,” you continue, rough. “You can’t hurt me. I’m not gonna break, Cap.”

“Everyone keeps asking what I need– I need everyone to stop looking at me like I’m dead,” you say rushedly. You’ve started now and can’t bring yourself to stop. “I breathe a little funny and they’re on me, wanting to– to make me tea and give me casseroles that won’t fit in my fridge and ask me how I’ve been sleeping, I don’t need that shit–”

Cragen hums knowingly. Then, after a silence:

“How’s Nolan?”

You huff. “Fine. Fine, he’s always fine. Always looking for something to do. He’s cooked more these past few months than in our entire marriage, you know?”

“He’s only trying to help–”

“I know,” you snap. Cragen only stares as you pull yourself together, filled with everloving patience. It’s why he called you in, not to reprimand or punish but to let you breathe without people accusing you of doing it wrong.

“I know,” you say again after several exhales, closing your eyes and tilting your head towards the ceiling, avoiding his eye. “Just because he’s trying doesn’t mean it’s working.”

“Have you thought of telling him that?”

“Sure,” you snort. “‘Hey, honey, can you not ask me how my day went? I zoned out for thirty minutes at my desk and picked at my scar until I snapped myself out of it.’”

“There’s help for that, you know,” Cragen says. “I heard they call it therapy, these days.”

“Name it, I’m on it,” you reply, smiling wryly. “Physical, for anxiety, for PTSD. I should get a goddamned discount.”

The Captain doesn’t laugh. Neither had any of your therapists, for that matter.

“I don’t want to be like this,” you continue after a moment of silence, unsure if you’re allowed, but Cragen only nods. Decades on the job have made him wise beyond his years, sometimes even to his own detriment. “You– I know what you’re all thinking–”

“I’m not sure you do.”

“–but I don’t–” your breath hitches. “If I could be over it already, I would. This isn’t any more fun for me than it is for you.”

“No one thinks badly of you for reacting to something that happened to you,” he tells you, and it’s so close to absolution you could cry right here in front of him with all your coworkers at the other side of the door. You didn’t know it was something you were seeking.

“I can see how they look at me,” you say, quiet. “I know what they want, who they want. I just can’t give it to them.”

“What do you want?” he uses your first name and it disarms something inside of you. It’s an innocent enough question, but it reaches for your lungs and squeezes mercilessly.

“I want it to stop,” the niceties, people explaining your own PTSD to you. The racing thoughts, the breathlessness, the chest pains you haven’t been able to get rid of even if the doctor says there’s nothing wrong with you anymore. Not physically.

You sigh and it comes out shaky. Your eyes burn. “I just want everything to stop.”

Two days later, you mistakenly say this to your therapist, who throws the question back to you with interest. “What do you mean by that? What needs to stop?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, infinitely more annoyed than when you’d been talking about this with Cragen. “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.”

“Well, maybe you do know. And that’s what scares you, what has you lashing out over the simplest innocent things. Think about that.”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to do all of the work here? I thought you said this was a partnership.”

Dr. Masters sighs, keeping careful watch over her exasperation. She writes something down, tries again.

You leave the sessions sans any breakthroughs but with enough recommendations to implement at home in hopes of finding normalcy in your marriage once more.

Try doing something together, the suggestion has you shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Have a movie night or breakfast together before work, host dinners with friends. Make your home yours again, is what I mean.

You try. It’s not a relaxing endeavor. God knows your work schedules suck even now that you’re both working half time, tempers gone through the shredder more than once. Still, you mention it to Liv and she suggests a double date kind of thing, and suddenly you’ve got a full dining table while a migraine inside your temples builds and builds and builds and–

“How you holdin’ up?” Brian asks casually, cutting off your racing thoughts like a record scratching. Your hands tighten around your fork and knife as you swallow down the urge to scream that washes over you at the question.

You think about the sleepless nights and the anger that comes out of nowhere, the inexplicable lack of patience directed at Nolan despite loving him more than anything else. You wonder if Brian would understand, having been shot before. If this is a good as any place to let everything out.

The thought fades as soon as it forms.

“Working on it,” you shrug simply. “Everything hurts and therapy’s a bitch. You know what it’s like.”

Brian snorts. “Fuck yeah, I do. Last time I went down I was so restless, Liv was gonna shoot me herself.”

“Hey now,” Liv says, but she’s smiling behind her wine and has a hand on Cassidy’s knee that inches slightly higher as she teases him. “I will say, going to work sounded like a dream just to get out of the house. You’re get better, though.”

“Hey, anything for the time off, I guess,” you say faux-brightly, a cynical twist of your lips that resembles a smile. “Next time I’ll make sure they shoot me somewhere less tedious, though.”

Brian scoffs and Liv shakes her head, but no one laughs. Nolan clears his throat after an awkward pause, obviously upset. He wipes his mouth with his napkin and leaves it gently on the table as he stands, avoiding your eye. “Excuse me.”

He walks away and closes the bedroom door gently behind him, the living room falling into uneasy silence. You pipe up with dark humor, “You think I’d get more time of if I was stabbed?”

The fight after Liv and Brian leave is a massive, unavoidable bloodbath.

There’s relief in the heat of it all, in a fucked up way. All the pent up agression you’ve been harboring finally has an opponent, even if Nolan doesn’t know he’s bringing knives to a gunfight.

“I hate when you say things like that and you know it–”

“It was a joke, Nolan, for Christ's sake–”

“Well, it’s not funny. For none of us, Liv was there with you in the ambulance and I–”

“Oh, please, tell me how I ruined your life by almost dying,” you scoff, goading. “Please, honey, the floor is yours.”

“Stop,” he says, firm, but his voice wobbles, and his eyes fill up with tears. You hate the sight of him like this and you hate to be the one who causes it. Still, the part of you aching for chaos, for emotion, can’t help but to press at the bruise. “I’m not doing this, I’m not having this argument with you.”

“You don’t have any arguments with me!” you exclaim in disbelief. Nolan purses his mouth in discontent and look away. “You tell me how to feel, what to do, what this whole thing has been like but the second I try to have an actual conversation it’s like your eyes glaze over and you’re fucking gone–”

“You don’t know what it was like for me,” Nolan snaps, tear stained cheeks glittering against the warm light of the bedroom. He hasn’t stopped crying ever since you came home. You hear him sometimes when he locks himself in his office or in the bathroom in the middle of the night. “Getting Liv’s call, the hospital, watching you like that–”

“This didn’t happen to you, Nolan!” you scream. The world has taken a sharper edge after the shooting, and all you can do is attack it likewise. “I laid in my own blood hoping someone would notice I was gone. I wasted away in the hospital for weeks, I am living a life where not a damn thing is right!”

“I’m drowning here,” your voice breaks, losing all its volume and vehemence. “And all everyone keeps telling me is how they feel about it, how I’m supposed to be getting better. I’m not. I’m not, Nolan. For the love of God, can we make this about me for half a second?”

“You,” Nolan begins, but it gets caught up in his throat, dissolves into nothing before you can hear what it is. Nolan shakes his head, adamant. “I’m not doing this.” He gathers his things all while you desperately call his name. The door closing behind him echoes through the apartment not unlike a gunshot in your ear.

That same week, Nolan goes to therapy.

He doesn’t tell you about it, just like he hasn’t told you about the past couple of months worth of sessions. He doesn’t tell anyone, actually. It starts when a victim’s husband loses it mid trial and lounges at her killer right in front of God, the judge and a panicking Nolan. He’s sure he conceals his feelings well, yet his boss takes one look at him and stops by his office at the end of the day.

“Someone recommended him to me,” he says while Nolan traces the dark blue letters of the contact card he just handed him. “I haven’t been to him in years, but he’s good. If you don’t think he can help you then I’m sure he’ll find you someone who can.”

“I–” Nolan begins and leaves it at that. It’s such a quietly kind thing to do for him that it renders him speechless.

“It can’t be easy,” he continues when Nolan doesn’t, endlessly patient, oddly personal. “What she went through, what you’re going through. I’m sure you’re both doing the best you can, but if you ever feel like you need more, well. It’s good to have options available.”

Everything that’s been offered the last few months; the casseroles and the rides to work, home, the hospital, a shoulder to cry on– it’s all been about you, for you. Nolan appreciates it but there’s something conditional about the whole thing, like he’s not worthy of help unless it’s somehow related to his wife.

He loves you. By God, he loves you with everything there’s in him to the point of ruin, but this– this is for him. His boss is offering him a lifeguard he so desperately needs, and it has both everything and nothing to do with you. He gets to be selfish about this one thing, and the thrill of it drowns out the guilt he feels about leaving you in the dark.

“Thanks,” he says, choked. Nolan clears his throat, hoping it comes out with at least some of the gratitude he’s feeling. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

The older man smiles, already at the door and saying his goodbyes. “See you tomorrow, Nolan.”

So Nolan goes to therapy. His first time on Dr. Rhymes’ couch he begins to weep before he can introduce himself. When he resurfaces from his grief, the man is offering him a box of tissues without a hint of judgement in his gaze.

He gets now why you come back frustrated more times than not after a session. It’s like pulling teeth, no matter how badly he knows he needs it. But it helps more than he hoped it would and the nightmares about your death slowly lose some of its gore. His once rusted instincts coming back to its brilliance in court after a week’s worth of full night’s rest.

He gets better. Starts to, anyways, but not you. In your dreams, you still bleed and bleed and bleed.

No one comes to get you. Liv misses the alleyway and chases after the perp, Nolan doesn’t call to wonder when you’re coming home, your gut pulsates with pain until there’s nothing but numbness, nothing but darkness, nothing left of you.

You wake up and don't know where you are. Your flail is purely instinctive, and despite the sharp pain that pulls at your chest you do so again, eyesight blurry, panic rising sharp and quick. Your entire body’s on fire but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter because you don’t know where you are and the perp is getting away, and Liv is still blocks away and, and, and, and–

Bleeding. You’re bleeding, bleeding out and your radio’s too far away and you can see the perp running but can’t hear his steps, there’s only your heartbeat echoing in your ears and the wet taste of death in your mouth as the world fades to black around you–

Sometimes you wake up from nightmares so quietly that Nolan doesn’t notice. Your eyes are closed and then they’re not and that’s all the movement your body can produce even if your heart is hammering against your ribcage. Other nights– nights like this one– you’re drenched in sweat and sprinting to the bathroom before your stomach returns the dinner you ate mere hours ago.

You hear Nolan fussing in the bedroom and picture him as clear as day in your mind; hair rumpled from sleep and eyes bleary, creased pajamas and worry lines on his features like he was supposed to grow into them. And he’s looking for you. Always, always looking for you.

You hate doing this to him but you hate having to go through it alone more. When you feel a cool, protective hand soothe up and down your back where your shirt sticks to your skin, you sob through your gags.

Nolan only says let it out, honey, I’ve got you, just let it go in different variations until the panic subsides. You focus on the timber of his voice, the roughness of sleep coating his vowels and the tilt of his consonants.

The bathroom tile is rough against your knees and your mouth tastes like acid, arms shaking with the effort of keeping you upright against the toilet seat. When you’re done, you fall back to the floor and Nolan is there next to you, ready to catch you.

He cradles you almost like one would a baby and you nestle against his chest, exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” you croak against his heartbeat. Nolan’s hand finds the sweaty nape of your neck and massages the tension out of it, hairs sticking to his fingers.

His soothing reply is automatic but no less honest. “It’s alright. It’s just a dream.”

“Not for this,” you correct, panting against his cotton grey shirt and reaching to hold it in a tight, shaky fist. “I mean– yes, for this, but for before. Everything. In the hospital and for fighting, for not… For everything. I’m sorry I’m like this.”

“Don’t be,” he defends, awfully vehement for a man who’s been awake for less than 10 minutes and is sitting on his bathroom floor at 4 in the morning. It’s the most emotion he’s shown since your last fight and you could weep with the relief it brings you. “Never be. You’re in pain. I’m allowed to want to help you when you’re in pain.”

“I’m tired of being in pain.”

Nolan’s chest shudders and you unclench your fist to lay your palm against it, the beat of his heart fluttering despite his calm demeanor. He shifts his hand to brush his thumb against your cheek, calming. “I know, honey. I know.”

He doesn’t say it’s okay or it’ll get better because as much as you know Nolan hopes so, it’s not the kind of thing he can promise. You wouldn’t want him to.

The sun rises through the horizon. Nolan holds you, holds you, and holds you.

“It’s stupid,” you say against your hands, hours later in your emergency session with Dr. Masters, wet and high-pitched. “It’s so fucking stupid.”

You don't elaborate. She gently goads. “What is?”

“It’s so simple,” your voice drips with disbelief, muscles coiled tight. “It’s so– it was one bullet. One second, and I’m– I can’t let it go. Why can’t I let it go?”

No answer, but you don’t need it. You’re already on a roll. “I’m okay. I’m alright, I recovered. I have my job and my husband and my life back then why am I like this? Why–”

Your voice breaks, a sign of weakness you’re done trying to hide. “Do I not want it? To get better, do I not want it enough? What am I doing wrong?”

“You have to understand, this isn’t something you did,” she sighs, leaving her notebook and pen to lean in closer. “Are you listening to me? This is something that happened to you, not because of you. Healing isn’t linear, isn’t that what you always say to the victims you encounter at work–”

You sniff, sharply wiping at your nose. “Yes, but–”

“But it’s different,” she finishes for you, leaning back against her seat. “Why? Because it’s you? Because you know better since you’re a cop? Because you’re not allowed any moment of weakness in the face of adversity?”

You’re rendered quiet, almost but not quite pouting after being called out so thoroughly. Masters continues. “You keep punishing yourself for reacting to trauma in an unpredictable way. Even that in itself is predictable. There’s no rulebook for this.”

“I know,” you say like you’ve done so many times since this whole thing started, but this is different. It’s not angry or sarcastic. It feels like a tipping point.

“This happened to you. You didn’t chose it,” your therapist says. Then, carefully, like she too is aware you’re on the cusp of something that you might be, finally, ready to hear. “But what you do with it– that is up to you.”

“You got handed this ugly, terrible thing,” she continues. “It’s yours now. And you can let it take over your life or you can take it in your hands and mold it into something you can live with.”

“That’s awful,” you say; tired, honest, terrified. Why should it be up to you? Why is it your job to fix what someone else broke? Master smiles.

“It is. It’s all work,” you say. “At least at first. And then, piece by piece, you make a life with the fragments from before. You get new ones. It’s not gonna be the same, but it’ll be yours. But work. It’s the only way out.”

It’s all work.

The session hollows you from the inside out and the day at the office is a blur. You get home much, much later, weary and exhausted. The sun is already deep behind the horizon and your head is filled with statistics and suspect heights, ethnicities, possible sightings…

Your eyes hurt and Nolan is already in bed, bent over his book with his glasses perched low on his nose. A lifetime ago he would’ve joked they made him look old, and you would kiss him senseless until they went askew and tell him he looked distinguished. It’s such an old, nice memory, both distant and right there for the taking. You get a little breathless just thinking about it.

He looks up to greet you when he hears you come in, tired but genuine. You think mold it into something you can live with and make a decision.

“Hey,” he welcomes you. “How was work?”

“I…” whatever your apprehension is, you visibly shake it off before focusing on Nolan with a sense of determination he hasn’t seen from you in a very, very long time. “I would like you to come with me. To therapy.”

“You… would?” he hates that he sounds so surprised. He places his book on the bedside table, taking his glasses off.

You look as uncomfortable as he feels, but aren’t backing down. You lessen the chasm between you, sitting on your side of the bed and laying your palm flat on the sheets. Realization hits Nolan like a slap to the face.

Here you are, the strange shape that is his wife after hell and back, reaching.

“I think… there are so many things I want to tell you,” you continue slowly, the way you do when you’ve rehearsed before speaking in court as a witness, presenting the case. “that I don’t know how. And so many things you have to say that I haven’t… wanted to hear.”

“But I’m ready,” you nod, grave. “To put in the work. Or– I want to be. And I’d– I’d like you to be with me, when I am.”

“We can go to Dr. Masters or– or I’m sure there’s some names she can draw up. Couples therapy,” you rush to say when Nolan doesn’t answer, desperate for his support. “Or– I mean, maybe you wouldn’t be comfortable with that, but I was really hoping we could–”

“Okay,” it comes out quiet. His nod, though, is resolute. “Yeah.”

You blink, a little startled and hesitatingly hopeful. “You– Yeah?”

“Yes. Okay. Yes, of course.”

“Okay,” you say, relieved, as if he’d ever say no to you. You laugh a little, deflating, running a hand through your hair. “Jesus, okay. Okay.”

A beat, two. Then you say, fragile as a baby bird, breaking the silence. “I’ve been so unfair to you.”

That finally gets him moving. He says your name, devastated. He opens up his arms, surer than he’s been in months. “Come here.”

You sigh out heavily, shakily. Standing, you move to his side of the bed and fall into his arms, work clothes and all.

“We’re alright,” he says, fingers threading into your hair. “I love you. I’m coming with you. We’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize anyways, crying into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, too,” his voice breaks and his arms tighten. There’s a kiss pressed to your hair that only makes you cry harder. “I’m so sorry, honey, for so many things. But we’re gonna be okay.”

It’s all, all work.

…Mostly.

“The files are on my desk,” Nick nods dutifully as you rattle off instructions, making sure your hair isn’t messed up by your coat. “Fin knows my notes backwards and forwards, if he tries to convince you he doesn’t it’s because he’s lazy, and I already let Cap know–”

Nick laughs, saying your last name knowingly. “It’s okay. Everything’s set, there’s nothing you’ve forgotten. Go have fun for once, will you?”

“Yeah, let us live vicariously through you,” Rollins pipes up as she passes by, an overflowing evidence box in her arms. “I’d kill for a hot date with a hotter lawyer right now.”

“You’d bite his head off before the appetizers came in,” Amaro smirks at her cockily, and you roll your eyes when Rollins predictably rises to the challenge. Behind them, Fin stares at them like he’s regretting all the life choices that led him to work with these people.

“You know what, Bernardo–” Rollins begins.

“Speaking of the devil,” Much pipes up loudly before Rollins starts humming the notes to the West Side Story score at Nick. You shoot him a grateful look but your attention is soon refocused on Nolan, who looks tall and sharp as he enters the precinct. “Good to see you, kiddo.”

“You too, old man. Hey, everyone,” Nolan smiles as he greets everyone else, though it turns shy when he acknowledges you, suddenly unaware of the rest of the room. “Hi, honey.”

“Hey, handsome,” you can’t help yourself, feeling young and foolish. “You look good.”

“Had to match you, didn’t I?” he gives you a once over, long and interested, and you’re so into it you can’t even hear your coworkers making fun of you. “You ready to go?”

“Born ready,” you wave everyone goodbye and then, as soon as you’re out of ear shot, you admit sheepishly, “I’m actually a little nervous. Is that weird?”

Nolan’s laugh is tender, relieved. “No,” he says, looking more relaxed by the admission with his arm poised while you loop your own around it, keeping him close. “I am, too. I haven’t felt like this since you kissed me for the first time.”

“I’m sorry, I kissed you?” you reply. “I very vividly remember being cut off mid sentence about serious crimes punishable by law because someone couldn’t help himself.”

“Our study sessions always were interesting,” Nolan agrees, grin boyish. “Ivery vividly don’t remember hearing you complain about it.”

“Only that it took you so long to do it,” you quip.

“Well,” he tells you as you go into the empty elevator and the doors close behind you, already drawing you in. “Who am I to keep you waiting now?”

Some other weekend, the day is bright and gorgeous and neither you nor Nolan are able to to stay in. You move your slow weekend routines out of the apartment for once, going out for brunch and bringing reading material that doesn't involve case files or suspects statements for once.

You walk around the city with a wonder rarely available to you lately and hold each other close. Halfway through the afternoon Nolan disappears across the street in search of your favorite coffee cart, telling you to stay put with a loud kiss to your cheek that leaves you giddy long after he’s gone.

“Hey, sorry,” he says breathlessly when he comes back, carefully keeping both coffees from overflowing. “They had to make a fresh pot just now.”

“‘s alright,” you say after a beat, smiling at him with an unusual shape to your mouth. It makes Nolan pause.

He asks, endearingly concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s–” you begin and then cut yourself off. You look around, calculating. You shake your head, hoping to drop it. “No. Sorry. I just thought–”

Your breaths come out short despite your best tries to keep the previous atmosphere going. Nolan places the coffees on the sidewalk and stands back up, already reaching. He tries to keep his tone even. Calm. “Honey. Is it okay if I touch you?”

“You– yeah,” you blink, almost surprised to see him. The words rush out of you with relief, like you weren’t sure you still had it in you to be verbal. “Yes, please. Please.”

“Come here,” it’s a relief to him too, both your answer and permission. He draws you in with a protective hand on your back and you shudder into the touch, breathing in and out slowly like Dr. Masters taught you. “Great, you’re doing great. I got you.”

“Sorry,” you says again after a while, back in your body. “I thought it was the street where…” you admit. You’re embarrassed, Nolan doesn’t have to see your face to know it. “For a second, I. I saw the alley and it’s– it was literally just that but I was sure…”

You don’t finish your sentence, drifting off, but Nolan knows you too well. Understanding dawns in and he holds you tighter, protective. The perfectly harmless landscape of the city suddenly shifts before his eyes and he starts to panic. He can’t get you out of here fast enough, but maybe if he tries… an Uber would probably be quicker than walking home…

“Nolan,” you cut off his racing thoughts, oddly comforted by the fact that you’re not alone in your freak out, even if Nolan has been rendered useless by his own agitation. “It’s okay. I was wrong, it’s not the street. I’m good.”

“We can go,” he offers, terribly disappointed that your day is about to be cut short but willing to do that and more for your wellbeing. This? In the grand scheme of things this is nothing. You were gonna spend today in bed anyways. “Or– is there something you need, do you want to call–”

“I want to stay,” you say, sure, cupping his face. Your touch helps him breathe, unclogs his throat and opens up his lungs. “I want to be here with you. I want to keep living my life even with… this. It doesn’t get to win.”

Nolan’s eyes burn, but his grin is too big for his face. He kisses you, long and deep and careless of who’s watching. It’s New York, its streets have seen far worse things than a man knee deep in love with his wife. “It doesn’t get to win,” he affirms, catching his breath. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

You grin, shaky, bright. “You’ve told me so once or twice.”

Hand on hand, you pass by the alley. The day is beautiful.

One night Nolan gets out of the bathroom to find you already in bed, frowning at your book. He passes a towel through his wet hair as he asks, “Is it any good?”

You only keep frowning. “It’s– I mean, yeah, but I. I don’t know.”

“What?”

“Have I read this before?” you ask him, showing him the cover.

Nolan squints, mouthing the words, then his expression clears. “Oh, I know. Did Munch give it to you?”

“Yeah,” you sound surprised. You hadn’t told him about John’s offhand gift, a tattered copy of a book he lent to you the other week. “ How’d you know?”

“He was reading it to you,” Nolan begins, then shrugs and seems to hesitate before he continues. “At the hospital.”

You make a face like you just tasted something sour. “Oh.”

“A part of you must’ve heard,” he continues, softer, searching your face for signs to shut the hell up. Other than the initial realization, he finds only pensiveness. “Must remember.”

“I don’t know,” you say, thinking of days so far away and so present still, sometimes laying between you in bed. “It’d be silly, wouldn’t it? That my brain chose to retain bits of a book I heard while unconscious rather than… you know.”

Nolan breathes in deeply, holds it, and lets it out. He tries feeling comfortable in the silence you’ve built as he thinks his words through. His therapist told him once that if he expected a fight to start out of a conversation then he’d start fighting before he realized what he was doing. He’s trying to be better.

“What do you remember?” he dares to ask. You tilt your head towards your lap, fingers running over the edges of the book to ground yourself in the movements. “About the hospital?”

Your smile is brittle and you don’t look at him when you say, “I didn’t even remember what had happened at first.”

“When I first woke up after– after. I still don’t, mostly,” He watches you, patient and encouraging even when you can’t meet his eye. “Like, you know what happened. I got shot and spent weeks in there, but I don’t– It’s pretty much a blur.”

You sigh deeply. “But I woke up and I was afraid anyways. Like my body caught up to the situation before my mind did and I just– I was in pain, and I needed to get out,” you retell.

There’s barely a memory there; of Nolan’s hand in yours and the sheer relief in his voice, the smell and sounds of a hospital that are too familiar in your line of work.

“Sometimes,” you begin, and that’s where you cut yourself off, turning to him and smiling, fixing the facade back on. Nolan rushes to stop you before you completely hide from him, cupping your face tenderly.

You meet his eye and you look afraid. Nolan can’t blame you, it hasn’t been long since he stopped physically fleeing the room whenever you even hinted at the shooting. But he stays rooted in his spot, even if just to prove you both wrong.

“Sometimes?” he goads, braver than he feels. You look at him intensely for what feels a very long time, then begin to relax against his touch.

“Sometimes,” you say, slowly, like you’re still expecting him to make an excuse and leave you to your feelings. “Sometimes I feel like I’m still there,” you admit, lip wobbling. “Just. Lying there. Waiting for someone to find me. To realize something’s not right.”

Nolan’s throat closes off. You’re not talking about the hospital, he realizes as his stomach drops. You’re talking about the alleyway.

“It’s what I dream about, usually,” you sniff. Talking about the nightmare is better than having it, but it makes you nauseous nevertheless. You breathe in and out, deeply, a couple of times before you find your words again. “I’m lying there and it takes forever for someone to find me. Sometimes no one ever does and I wake up thinking I haven’t left that alley.”

That’s where Nolan’s perspective comes into view. He watches you wake, though only sometimes because there are nights in which you refuse to bother him despite how adamant he’s been about waking him up when you need him. He watches you wake and draws you back from the metaphorical cliff into his arms and your bed.

You’d never told him about the dreams. This is definitely a first.

He does his best to breathe, to keep eye contact. He meant it, the silent vow he made to himself when you came forward and asked him to go to therapy together. He’s through running away from this. If he keeps leaving you every time you feel like this, what makes him any different than the man who left you in that alley, fighting for your life?

He does his best. “I don’t know if I can help,” he admits shamefully, out loud for the first time but for the thousandth time to himself. “But I’m here.”

You shudder with a sniff. Shifting closer to him, Nolan takes your weight effortlessly, like this is what he was meant for. That, he’s never doubted.

“We found you,” he continues, a comfort that works for him as he hopes works for you. “We brought you home. I know exactly where you are.”

You lose the fight and bury your face in his shoulder, shaking in Nolan’s arms for a long, long time. Crying, he can tell, but quietly. He doesn’t tell you to be loud about it if you want to. He’s done telling you how to live through your grief.

“I kept thinking of you,” you admit later, much later, into his shirt. Nolan closes his eyes, wrecked. “Of who would call you, or if you… If you’d have to… to come claim a body.”

You feel him tighten his grip around you.

“You were the first thing I recognized,” you continue, quiet. You’re toying with his shirt, soothing your fingers over the soft, worn fabric. “When I woke up, amidst all that panic, there was you.”

You huff a laugh against him, breath warm. “I don’t know if I’ve thanked you for that lately. Calming me down. You’ve always been good at that.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing much,” he admits shamefully.

He feels the way you shake your head, unwavering in your truth. “You do everything. You’re everything.”

“Right back at you, honey,” he says, and you hold each other for a very long time.

Halfway through getting your life back, almost nine months after the shooting that shattered your life to the ground, the team finds and collars the perp.

The same gun he used on you shows up in CODIS for another recent crime and you get a warning text from Fin less than ten minutes before he walks in with the suspect. Rollins is stone-faced by his side, both of them holding on to him despite his very obvious lack of struggle.

He barely even looks at you before he’s glancing away, bored. You remain unrecognizable to him but his features spark a flash of awareness deep in your unconscious and you’re excuse yourself to go dry heave in a bathroom while he gets processed.

Your thumb shakes over the screen of your phone, right on top of Nolan’s contact. You should just call him, you know it. You’ve done it before, and your husband would cross the city during rush hour and bend time to his will just to be by your side and hold you through the panic.

You know, but you can’t. You’ve been doing so good lately, finally; after the year from hell your lives are finally getting a glimpse of normalcy, and this– this is a Setback. Capital S setback, and after everything you’ve put him through… God, you can’t keep doing this to him.

You won’t do this to him. You call your therapist instead and hate every single second of it, hate even more that it works; forty minutes on the phone with her and you exit the bathroom with bloodshot eyes but with your chin held high and hands steady.

Amaro is the first to notice you and he catches your stare immediately, but he only nudges a tower of paperwork from his desk to yours and says, “You snooze, you lose, partner.”

“Dick,” you answer, your voice only a bit nasal. You’re so incredibly thankful for him that you could weep again right there and then.

You sit to get back to work, perp nowhere in sight, and bite the inside of your cheek in thought before you pull your phone back out, sending some rapid-fire texts.

Hey

I love you

You sigh and leaf through the papers, looking for where to start. Working through an equally ridiculous amount of files in his office across the city, Nolan’s eyebrows lift in curiosity at your texts.

I love you too

Is everything alright?

The three dots signifying your reply appear and disappear over the course of a few moments. After a while, his phone chimes again.

Rough day. Just wanted the reminder.

But I’m okay, I promise.

I’ll tell you all about it at home tonight.

Nolan sighs out slowly, and trusts you. Because of it, he watches you grow into your own skin again.

Your visits to Dr. Masters get less and less frequent and the damned paper finally gets signed. The nightmares, though not gone, lessen and don’t make you sick to your stomach anymore as you trace Nolan’s features in the dark to soothe yourself back into a slumber. You tell him everything, become more lenient with your resurfacing memories and in return, you hold Nolan as he talks about those days at the hospital and cries until he physically can’t anymore.

It’s so familiar and so, so new. You’re who you’ve always been and yet Nolan finds himself staring at you sometimes, amazed at the differences– a woman reshaped entirely by trauma and victorious over it nevertheless. Victorious because of it.

When you drag him away from the kitchen sink where dirty dishes sit after dinner, he barely puts up a fight. Nolan eagerly follows you to the couch and sinks into your embrace when you tangle your fingers in his hair, shivering against your welcoming touch.

You’re making out like teenagers– like you used to when you were in college– with no specific purpose until Nolan starts to forget himself. His hands are around your waist, squeezing unconsciously while you, on top of him, swallow his sound of elation and run your tongue along his teeth, wet and dirty.

Jesus, Nolan thinks unabashedly, and wants, wants, wants–

He nudges his leg between your thighs, pants uncomfortably tight, when you call his name. You’re pulling away suddenly, bringing him back from a daze, a hand tangled in his hair. Your fingers twitch with restraint as you look him over, pensive.

Nolan sighs, leaning his temple against yours and trying to get his breathing back into a less agitated rhythm. All he gets is a whisk of your perfume and the warmth of your skin, his efforts useless.

“Right,” he murmurs, voice velvet quiet. He’s still trying to preserve the moment even after your new set of boundaries. “Right. I’m sorry.”

You haven’t gone that far since– Since. Nolan can’t recall the details of the last time you were together, one random night the week you were shot. He didn’t think he’d have to, but now he wishes he had committed the night to memory; your skin under his hands, the sounds you made, how you reached bliss together–

“Don’t be,” you say equally as lowly, pupils blown, gaze ardent. “I want…”

You drift off. It’s suddenly urgent, imperative that Nolan knows what you’re asking for, needs to give it to you immediately.

“What?” he murmurs back, thumbing at your bottom lip, bruised and kissed. Your breath is hot against his skin. “What, honey, what do you want? What can I do?”

“Kiss me again,” You say. Then, before he can comply– “Don’t– don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop.”

“You…” Nolan says, shaking his head to pull himself together, attention still hazy around the edges. Your name tastes so sweet when he says it. “You mean…”

“Please,” you whine, and Nolan’s body reacts to the sound all on its own, hips subtly canting up towards you. You press your mouth to his jaw, tongue barely caressing the skin. “Please, Nole, please keep touching me.”

Nolan curses, both at your words and the realization he might not last as long as he’d like if you keep saying these things to him. “Sweetheart. Oh, are you sure?”

Your breath hitches. “God, Nolan, more than anything else.”

“Come on. Come here,” Nolan insists, turning to kiss you so thoroughly he almost forgets the point he’s trying to make. “I’m gonna do this right, okay? We have a perfectly good bed in the other room–”

He scrambles up and takes your hand, taking you with him. You surrender to him and he kisses your hand, the crook of your elbow, your shoulder and neck, in a rush and yet wanting to make this last as long as possible.

You laugh amidst your urgency, rich and lovely, cupping his face and kissing him soundly, rubbing against him. Nolan is a weak, weak man.

“I love you,” you say while he buries himself inside you later in bed, sheets pooled around the both of you, and looking up at him like you can’t believe he’s real. Nolan’s on top of you and he’s got your fingers tangled together; your hands pinned against the sides of your face. They’re points of steadiness as the tension inside him threatens to snap with each thrust, however small. “I love you, Nole, I love you so much–”

He’s not ashamed to say he’s crying when he finally comes, and you cup his face in your hands with a wounded sound when you realize. You kiss him as you finally let yourself go and it tastes like victory. Like work; like blood, sweat and tears. It feels like being yourself, added scars and all, Nolan’s warmth a steady, sure thing against your side.

started this over a year ago and it's finally yours!!! sorry i've been so absent, i've been having the worst writer's block of my life lol but i hope you love this as much as i do! let me know what you think and i hope you see more from me in the next months! thanks for reading <3

#nolan price x reader #leo writes #nolan price #hugh dancy #law & order #law and order #svu #svu x reader #reader insert #olivia benson #nick amaro #amanda rollins #john munch #donald cragen #fin tutuola #svu imagine #one shot #law and order x reader

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agender-wolfie · 10 months ago

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When you get into a fandom but 99% of the fics are fem and are unlabeled or untagged

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agentdilfhotchner · 4 months ago

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save me detective nick amaro 🫦

#law and order svu #svu #nick amaro #danny pino #nick amaro x reader #olivia benson #sonny carisi #amanda rollins

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megalony · 11 months ago

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Leave Her Out Of This

This is a new Nick Amaro imagine from SVU, requested by a lovely anon. I loved this idea and I hope you will all like it. Any feedback is always lovely to get.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz

Masterlist

Summary: Nick comes back to work but he can't contain himself when he finds his wife up on their board of victims. He won't have the team dragging up her past and upsetting her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey stranger, how are you?"

A tired smile formed on Nick's face when he sluggishly walked into the squad room, trying not to drag his feet behind him and act a little more human today.

"Better," He felt much better than he did last week when he went off sick. He had barely been able to keep his eyes open and when he started to run a fever, Olivia sent him home. They didn't need him collapsing on the job or crumbling behind his desk when he wasn't well.

It had been oddly strange for Nick to spend five full days at home with (Y/n) and not have to set an alarm or wake up to a phone call in the middle of the night asking him to come in. He didn't get one call or message or even a voicemail asking for his help or for him to come back and it was the weirdest feeling in the world. The team must have realised how run down he felt to not message him at all.

He didn't feel one hundred percent just yet, but he felt better than he had done and he was well enough to come back.

Spending a few days between the bed and the couch had done him a lot of good, and being with his wife just made him feel that much better.

As he approached his desk, Nick shrugged off his overcoat and draped it on the back of his chair. He didn't want to sit down just yet because he knew if he did, he wouldn't be likely to get up again. It was best for him to keep moving and keep busy to wake himself up.

"So, what have we got?" His hands fell to his hips and he took a sweeping look around, waiting for someone to tell him what the plans were. They had just finished up on a case last week when Nick went off sick. He didn't know if they had a new case yet, if they had a victim to talk to or if they had a big case building up that they needed to work on.

"We're building up an old case with three new victims. Come see what we've got, then we can head out and speak to the latest vic."

Amanda waved a file in the air towards Nick before she got up from her desk and beckoned him to follow her.

He had missed the beginning of this case opening back up, but he could jump in and help since they hadn't spoken to any of the latest victims yet. They needed the usual statements, witnesses, coroborating stories and alibis. It was going to be a busy few days around the station.

Nick could feel himself wishing he was back home already and he had barely been here two minutes. But he tried to push those feelings down as he followed Amanda past the desks and towards the back of the squad room where the computers and the crime boards were.

They had been busy.

"New vics on the right, old ones on the left. We're still searching for more potential vics."

"So, what's the case?" Nick leaned back and sat down on the edge of the table as his arms folded over his chest and he studied the new victims. They always had better chances with new victims, old ones had the statue of limitations hanging over their heads and memories could change and fade and warp. Details could be missed as well.

"Glad to see you back," Olivia commented as she approached the boards and started pointing. "Local parish priest, Jonathon. Three girls between ten and fifteen have come forward with allegations of abuse. Looking back, we've found six previous victims, Finn is still searching for any others. He takes them under his wing, gets them helping in church after school, then progresses to attack them repeatedly."

A wave of unease washed over Nick as he tried his best to listen to what Olivia was saying. But it was hard to concentrate when a familiar sense of knowing lingered in the back of his mind and he could feel his skin starting to prickle with goosebumps.

It was as if there was an invisible hand in front of him that reached through his chest and fisted around his heart when he dared to look over at the board on the left.

Oh God no.

No, that wasn't fair. This couldn't be right.

A subtle trembling set in over Nick's body and he found himself pushing off the table to take a few steps closer to the board he was now inspecting.

It was the same man. It was the same priest. The one Nick fortunately had never met, but had heard all about over the course of a decade. This was the man that Nick had envisioned countless times when he laid awake in the dead of night, unable to sleep or think or do anything but wonder what he was like and if he had been caught out.

"…Are you familiar with the old cases?" Olivia kept her voice quiet because it seemed like Nick was caught up in a trance he couldn't break out of.

He was stood right in front of the board of old victims, but it didn't make sense. Nick wasn't old enough to have been there to work on the old cases. If he was familiar with them, it would have to be due to a fairly recent victim or because he knew someone else who had worked on this case before.

Nick's fingers twitched at his sides and his right hand jerked up before he managed to control himself and drop his hands back to his sides. He let his hands clench into fists until his short nails were puncturing into his palms, creating deep crescent moons in the skin.

"Yeah… I… I need a coffee." He turned on his heels and backed away from the board before he did something he shouldn't.

He made his way through towards the cells and moved to the small kitchen at the side. He needed a coffee to wake up and calm himself down.

His wife was on that board.

Trembles set in through his hands when he tried to pour some fresh coffee into a takeaway cup. He spilt more on the side than he got in the cup and he added three sugars to try and settle his system and his nerves.

They had (Y/n)'s picture up on that board. They had gone raking through past cases and old reports and they had dug out (Y/n)'s file.

While he had been off, they had found the few reports (Y/n) had made when she was younger.

That was why Nick knew this case back to front, he knew what that priest was capable of because it had happened to his wife. Nick knew (Y/n) had made at least three separate reports to the police, but because her parents thought so highly of the priest and didn't believe her, nothing was done. (Y/n) had no evidence of abuse and the police wouldn't file charges or make an arrest on a man of God. Not unless they had solid evidence and more witnesses.

The other girls who came forward didn't have solid cases either. Nothing was done about it.

"So, what do you know about this case, anything we can use?"

Nick glared daggers down into his cup when he trailed back towards the table and heaved down into one of the chairs opposite the boards. He slouched back and crossed one leg over the other, but he couldn't stop staring up at that board.

(Y/n) looked so young. The picture had to be her when she was thirteen or fourteen. There was something in her eyes that made Nick's stomach churn. A desperate need to be listened to; they were made of glass that was splintering and about to break. The world was hidden within those eyes that had seen far too much for someone so young.

"He grooms them first… makes them feel comfortable, preys on any family issues. He usually makes them give confession before he tries anything, then he had a hold over them. Sick fucker."

His eyes stayed on the brown paper cup in his hand that was slowly burning into his skin, creating a delicious tension that made Nick feel calmer.

He knew what the priest did, from what (Y/n) said, his motives became very clear. He wormed his way into their lives and made sure he knew their friends and family and that everyone liked him enough to never believe any of these accusations. He made the girls feel vulnerable and like they would be defying God and going against everyone if they ever spoke out.

Nick couldn't help himself, he couldn't help but look up at that picture again. He wasn't used to seeing photos of (Y/n) from when she was younger, she didn't have many photos she liked that didn't plague her with bad memories. And after she left home and went to college where she met Nick, she cut off ties with her parents. They didn't support her, they didn't help her and whether or not a small part of them believed what she had gone through, they still did nothing about it.

(Y/n) didn't want to be around them anymore when they had let her down so badly.

"I want you both to go over the old victims with Finn, get new statements, any details we can use to make a new case. The statute of limitations may have run out, but some of these girls did make reports and file complaints and we can use those."

No!

No, they were not doing this. They were not going to victimise (Y/n) all over again and put her through that trauma. Nick wouldn't allow it.

No good would come of this, he had consoled too many victims who couldn't put the past behind them. He had talked to so many victims and all of them felt worse after re-living events like this. Getting justice may help, but the process to do that didn't. No one was doing this to his wife.

Nick wouldn't see (Y/n) tell her tale to more people when she had been through it before. She had talked to her parents. She had gone through every event with the police. She had relived it when she opened up to Nick about what she had been through. She wasn't doing that again.

"Amanda, I want you to start with-"

Olivia took a step away from the board and leaned back when Nick suddenly got up. He rounded the side of the table and before either of them could speak, he slammed his hand down on the board.

Nick snatched the picture of (Y/n) from the board, tearing a crease in the top left corner where it didn't come apart from the blue tac properly. His chest heaved and his shoulders strained against his shirt as he stared down at the picture he desperately wanted to tear up into pieces but couldn't. This wasn't the girl that Nick knew. This wasn't the woman he had fallen in love with, this was a piece of her past he had seem glimpses of but never ventured into.

This was the part of (Y/n) that she wanted to bury and forget and Nick would do absolutely anything in his power to do that for her.

He reached down and snatched the eraser on the bottom of the board and set a fast pace, scrubbing the black marker from the board. He wiped away his wife's maiden name, her date of birth and the dates of her attacks. He cleaned away the information about her allegations and what she had gone through.

He wiped the slate clean, wishing this could rebound into her life and smudge away her past so it never happened.

"We have five old victims, not six. You don't use this one."

Amanda leaned back in her seat and twirled her pen between her fingers. They had gone through all these victims and they all seemed credible. He couldn't just walk in and wipe them clean and demand no one talk to them or use their statements.

"Nick, we've got statements that coroborate her story, she's a good lead-"

"She's my wife."

Silence fell over the end of the squad room just as Finn walked through with a thin paper file in his hands. No one had anything to say to that. What were they supposed to say? What were they supposed to do now?

For a few more seconds, no one spoke. All eyes landed on Nick as he stood in front of the board, his short nails puncturing holes into the eraser in his hand. His biceps strained against his sleeves from how tense he was holding himself. The veins in his neck started to push out and come on display and his jaw ground down so deeply the muscles around his neck and chin began to flex.

"Nick, I'm so sorry." Olivia held her hands in front of her and started to move the ring around her finger. "You know the way this goes, we comb through old victims to find things to help put this man away. We can leave (Y/n) down to you, we won't go near her-"

"No, you won't. You don't get it, (Y/n) went through all of this and she didn't get help. It's too late for her now, she doesn't want anything to do with this so we get this guy with the victims and the evidence we do have. No one goes near my wife, don't even mention her in any part of this."

They couldn't force their way into (Y/n)'s life.

She was done with this. It was a decade ago and (Y/n) was trying to move on. Some victims couldn't move on unless they had closure, but (Y/n) didn't feel that way. She tried to get help, she moved on, she got her life together and she was finally somewhere that she was happy and proud and pleased with herself. No one was going to run in and ruin that for her.

Testifying or making statements and reliving everything was going to burden (Y/n) and make her feel down and drag her all the way back down when she had done so well putting herself back together. If they caught this guy, great, (Y/n) could rest easy knowing no one else would get hurt.

But at the end of the day, (Y/n) was a victim, she didn't have to think of anyone else. She had tried to help, she had done her part in this. They had her statements and her files, that was all they needed from her, talking to her wasn't going to help her.

"We've got five other victims, surely that's enough?" Amanda rolled her lips into a thin line and looked over at Olivia for confirmation.

If this was Amanda's significant other, she would feel the same way. She wouldn't want the team going to talk to her partner ot combing through their life to pick it apart and get them to retell their story. She would want her partner as far away from this mess as possible and Amanda could see where Nick was coming from.

Did they really need (Y/n) if they had the rest of these girls and their case would be built solidly around the new victims?

"Nick, are you sure this is what (Y/n) wants?"

"It took her months to open up to me, she doesn't want to keep living this nightmare. Liv… she's pregnant, you think stressing her out is a good idea right now? I know everything, whatever questions you have, I can answer. Leave her out of this."

His hand planted down on his hip, crushing his wife's picture against his trouser leg while his other hand moved to cup his chin. He scratched his nails down his jaw and rubbed until it felt like he was going to tear off a layer of skin.

This was what (Y/n) wanted, Nick knew that and he knew what would go through his wife's head when she found out about the investigation.

She would want nothing to do with this.

If they spoke to her about this, it would drag up all the past and send her spiralling down when she was finally back to a good place in her life. She wasn't having nightmares or sleepless nights anymore. She wasn't afraid to be around other people and she didn't flinch when in close contact with others.

Since the moment Nick met her back in college, he had done everything he could to help her. He moved at her pace, let her slowly open up to him over the course of almost eight months. They worked through things together, he had been there when she went to therapy and every part of her recovery, Nick had tried to be there by her side.

And (Y/n) was six and a half months pregnant now.

They were finally at a place in their lives where (Y/n) felt happy and able to start a family and have the life she always wanted. With Nick.

(Y/n) was even going to church with Nick and his family now. After everything she had gone through, she was going to church and keeping some of the little faith she had left. This case would set her back years in her recovery and when this went to trial, (Y/n) would undoubtedly be near her due date.

There was no chance in Hell that Nick would let Barba put his pregnant wife up on the stand and risk stressing her out and pushing her into labour.

It wasn't worth the risk.

***

Nick could feel all the energy draining out of him as he dragged his feet and plodded up the stairs. His fingers worked at the buttons on his sleeves and he rolled them up to his elbows as his chin tucked down into his chest and he sighed.

He could feel all the energy dwindling away from him like someone was draining him down to twenty percent. Less than a week back at work was draining him to his last reserves and he felt like he would be taking another week off sick as he still wasn't fully recovered yet.

He had shed his blazer jacket the moment he walked through the door and as he reached the top of the stairs, Nick undid the tie from his collar and whipped it off from around his neck.

"Carino?" He leaned in the bedroom and tossed his tie on the bed before he turned around and headed back into the hallway when he saw the room was empty.

A soft smile pulled at his tired lips when he noticed the light was on in the spare room.

When he poked his head around the door, he let his arms fold over his chest and he leaned his body into the door frame. One leg crossed over the other and his smile softened into something sweet as his eyes locked on his wife.

(Y/n) was sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the room with small piles of clothes surrounding her. Blankets stacked up near her right knee, onesies and vests in front of her and the few handmade boots she had made sat proudly in front of her legs.

"You've been busy," Nick's quiet comment caused (Y/n) to lift her head and when her eyes locked on him, she bit down no her lip, obscuring a charmingly sweet smile that made his heart melt.

She placed down the boots in her hand and ran her hands along her knees, but her heart sped up and she pressed her lips together tightly when she watched her husband. He seemed to grin down at her before something caught his eye and he tilted his head back. His eyes swept around the room a few times before his head turned to the left and he looked over the wall beside him.

"Have you painted again?" The sigh was visible in the way his chest puffed out then deflated. Nick moved away from the doorframe and took a few steps into the room so he could look up at the walls.

They had painted the first coat on the walls two days before he went off sick from work. They spent the next few days lounging around the house with Nick too tired and run down to do anything. And when he had gone back to work, he didn't think about the second coat of paint that the walls needed. The room was a very pale shade of grey that had hints of lilac mixed in. It was a neutral colour since they were keeping the gender a secret.

"Maybe," (Y/n) tilted her head down and shrugged when Nick huffed.

"And you thought it would be safe to get up on the ladder without me home? What if you fell?"

If she wanted to paint, Nick would of preferred (Y/n) just painted the part of the walls she could reach and leave the skirting edges at the ceiling for him to do. He didn't like the thought of her getting up on a ladder without him here, especially when she was home alone. If she fell or hurt herself or knocked herself out she wouldn't have a way to get help.

(Y/n) lifted her head when Nick crouched down in front of her, being mindful of the clothes she was trying to sort out and had piled around her like a circle of protection.

Her lips curved up and a shiver ran down her spine when his hand cupped her chin so he could plant a soft kiss on her lips.

"Sorry… I got the crib out too but I got a bit sidetracked." She let her eyes dance across to the side of the room before she looked back at Nick and gently traced her hand across his neck.

She could feel the growl that vibrated through his shirt and up his neck which made his jaw shudder. He leaned forward to steal another kiss before his eyes locked on the right side of the room. The crib should have been flat-packed and still in the box he had leant up against the wall. Instead, the instructions were on the floor beneath the window, the tool box was at the ready and all the pieces were set out into rows very neatly.

"You know that's my job, you should be resting."

He spoke against her lips, letting each word fan across her dark lips before he gave in to temptation and kissed her again, pulling her lower lip between his teeth. He didn't want (Y/n) doing everything and he didn't want her overworking herself when his back was turned and he left the house.

"Come on, I think you've earned a break." Nick moved his hands round until he was holding the back of (Y/n)'s elbows and he let her hands fall on his shoulders.

He slowly eased her up to her feet with him but his brows raised and his eyes widened when (Y/n) leaned forward. Her hands moved from his shoulders to wrap around his neck and her face buried forward in his chest near his collar bone.

A tender look crossed his face and his lips quirked into a sideways smile as (Y/n) leaned forward into him. He slid his hands down to her waist and planted his hands flat on her lower back with his arms pressing lovingly into her sides. Nick held her against his chest for a little while with his cheek pressed on the top of her head.

He began to sway them from side to side as if soft music was lulling in the background.

His hand moved to rub up and down her back and his other hand slid further down to cup her bum while he pressed his lips longingly to the top of her head. They stayed like that for another minute or more, but Nick could feel his smile starting to fade when (Y/n) didn't let him go.

She tightened her arms around his neck when he tried to lean back to look down at her.

"Carino… is everything okay?" The words vibrated through her hair and he pressed another kiss against her temple while his hand stopped against the middle of her back. His thumb began to glide up and down over the back of her shirt but he kept swaying them from side to side to try and keep the serenity around them.

"Did you see the news today?"

(Y/n)'s voice came out as quiet as a whisper on the wind but she didn't want to pull away. Not yet. She could feel the first few buttons of Nick's shirt were undone and she nuzzled her nose against his chest until she could rest her cheek against his bare skin, nudging his shirt out the way.

"No, we were driving round town all day doing interviews, why? What did it say?" Nick had been driving for the best part of his twelve hour shift and when he wasn't in the car, he was asking questions and taking down notes. Two out of the five previous victims they were talking to had refused to talk to them and clammed up when they arrived.

It hadn't been a very productive day and Nick was glad to be home. He didn't have time to watch the news.

"A reporter has confirmation that… that a priest in the area is under suspicion of sexual allegations… it's him."

(Y/n) kept her face buried into Nick's chest and she felt the sharp breath he took and how his stomach tensed and pulled inwards against her. His hand pressed down deeper into her back and he tilted his head so he could rest his chin on top of her hair.

As soon as she saw it on the news, (Y/n) hurriedly turned the tv off. She didn't dare turn it back on after that and when she did, she had gone straight to the movie channels so no news would pop up.

(Y/n) didn't want to listen or read whatever they were spouting. She didn't want to see his picture pop up on the screen and remind her of the nightmares she had tried to forget. She didn't need his face back in her memory when she had finally started to forget what he looked like and in her dreams, he appeared as a faceless blurr.

Nor did (Y/n) want to hear what he was accused of and hear how old the other girls were. She didn't need to be reminded that this predator was still out on the streets because no one had taken her seriously or listened to her as a teenager.

"The case landed on Liv's desk when I went off sick. I have to work the case and look into it." Nick knew he needed to tell (Y/n), but he thought he would have another few weeks before any reports got leaked and the media found out what and who they were investigating. He wanted to sit (Y/n) down and calmly tell her about this so she had some forwarning instead of finding out like this.

He felt the shudder than ran through her body and seemed to pass right into him. He could feel the sharp breaths she took but instead of pulling out of his arms, she held him tighter. (Y/n) unlocked her arms from his neck and slid her hands down so she could loop them beneath his arms and bound them tightly around his chest.

"Do I… Nick, I don't wanna…" Tears burned in the corners of (Y/n)'s eyes as she finally pulled back enough to look up at him.

Her chin pressed down into his chest so her head could tip back and stare up at her husband. She could see the emotions pooling deep in his brown eyes and his lips parted for a few seconds while he tried to think of something to say.

"Shh, carino it's okay. You don't have to do anything, I swear. You're not part of this investigation, no one will talk to you and you're not going anywhere near that trial when it starts."

His hand moved up from her bum and curled loosely around the back of her neck so he could lean down and smother his lips against her forehead. He could feel the heat radiating from her skin and the light trembling that settled in her bones. This is what he was afraid of. This is what Nick tried to tell the team. He knew (Y/n) like the back of his hand and he knew she wouldn't want any part of this.

"Really?" (Y/n) hated how much her voice wobbled and her nails dug into Nick's back when he replaced his lips with his temple against hers.

As soon as it came on the news, (Y/n) had fought hard not to go into a panic and she stopped herself from going down to the station to talk to Nick. She didn't want to bother him at work but to distract herself, she had spent the day in the nursery. The thought of their impending baby had been a great distraction to (Y/n), she painted the nursery, got the crib out into sections and started on the clothes.

(Y/n) didn't want to testify.

She didn't want to open up to anyone else about the torment she had gone through as a teen. She didn't want the sympathy looks she got from others and she didn't want the people her husband worked with to look at her like that or hear the gruesome details of her abuse.

It happened a long time ago and (Y/n) wanted to move on. She and Nick were happy, they were having a baby and starting their family together; this was the last thing they needed.

"Really. For you, this is over. That shit on the news has nothing to do with you Carino."

"Do they know?"

The pain in her voice was more than clear and it made Nick's lungs seize up. He wanted to tell her no. He wanted to say the team had no idea what she had gone through, but he could never lie to her.

None of their friends knew what (Y/n) had gone through and Nick's family only found out a few small details after they got engaged. While she had been his girlfriend, his family had no idea what she had gone through and all Nick disclosed to his parents and sister was that (Y/n) had gone through a degree of abuse as a teenager. He didn't say an specifics or who it had involved, when, where or how long for.

They knew the basics and only what they desperately needed to know. That was how they both wanted it to be.

(Y/n) leaned her head to the right when both Nick's hands moved to cup her face. His thumb swiped across her cheek and cleared away a tear that started to fall and he tipped her head down so he could press a longing kiss to her forehead.

"They had your name and the old reports. I took it down before they could look any further into it. As far as they're concerned, your name's been erased."

Nick was glad he got to the board before any of the team looked through all of (Y/n)'s case files and before they got to speak to her. As far as the team were concerned, when Nick scrubbed (Y/n)'s name off the board, he was erasing her from the entire investigation.

Olivia had agreed not to tell Barba that they had a sixth past victim. They hadn't told him that they had a victim who refused to speak to them, they hadn't told him Nick had a personal link to this investigation. As far as everyone else knew, (Y/n) wasn't involved in this, her name wouldn't come up. And now she was married to Nick, her last name was officially Amaro and had been for the last two years. She wasn't connected to this case anymore.

"You have nothing to worry about, carino. Okay?"

The small, tepid smile that graced (Y/n)'s lips was enough to calm her down and stop her from falling into floods of tears. She nodded her head in his hands and reached up to grip his wrists, as if silently telling him not to dare let go.

She pushed up on her toes and connected their lips, mumbling a quiet 'thank you' into his mouth which he swallowed up as he devoured her lips.

"Anything for you, carino."

#nick amaro x reader #nick amaro imagine #nick x reader #nick amaro #law and order svu #law and order #imagine #pregnant! reader #pregnancy

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cathrrrine · 1 year ago

Text

based on this incorrect quote i posted

how the svu characters would react to your “would you still love me if i was a worm?” text

Sonny Carisi

Amanda Rollins

Nick Amaro

Fin Tutuola

Rafael Barba

Olivia Benson

Elliot Stabler

Part 2!

#law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #dominick sonny carisi #law and order svu imagine #olivia benson #amanda rollins #fin tutuola #elliot stabler #nick amaro #rafael barba #svu characters #text imagines #x reader #edited by me!#cat’s text fics: svu

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fatecantstopme · 8 months ago

Text

Trust Changes Everything

Pairing: Nick Amaro x Reader

Summary: Let's get frisky...It's smut for smut's sake.

Warnings: Cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, definite dom/sub vibes, orgasm denial, restraints, blindfold, oral (M receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), fingering.

"Hola hermosa," your boyfriend said softly as he came to wrap his arms around your middle. "What'cha cooking?"

You leaned back into his warm, strong embrace. "Technically, I'm baking."

His lips pressed sweetly onto your exposed shoulder. "Mhm...what'cha baking then?"

"Chocolate chip cookies for Amanda's birthday tomorrow."

"Such a considerate friend, querida," he murmured.

You hummed in response as you turned in his arms to face him properly. "You're home early."

"I missed you," he said with a cheeky smile.

You chuckled softly, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a soft kiss. "I missed you too, but why are you actually home early?"

"It's possible I feigned illness so I could come home."

"Nick Amaro!" you chided. "The squad is short-staffed as it is and I was out today too and--and you're kidding."

He grinned. "I love it when you get riled up."

"I hate you," you grumbled.

"Sure you do."

You glared at him, which only made him laugh harder. It didn't help that you were significantly shorter than him, making your anger almost comical.

"It was a slow day, so Liv graciously sent me home early to check on you," he finally admitted.

"She didn't need to do that. I'm feeling just fine."

Nick raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing you. "You felt poorly enough to call off from work this morning, which is not at all like you...but you want me to believe you're magically all better now?"

"I'm not sick, Nick."

He sighed softly and brushed a lock of hair out of your face. "Not physically, perhaps, but you had a very rough morning querida. I worried about you all day."

You shrugged. "Just nightmares, Nick--it's nothing to worry about."

He took your hands in his. "It's my job to worry about you. That case was rough and it hit you harder than anyone else. So if you wanna talk about it..."

"I'm fine, mi amor," you insisted. "I don't need to talk about it."

He nodded. "Well if talking is off the table, I have some other ideas to help you relax and get your mind off of things."

"Oh? What did you have in mind?"

He brushed his body against yours, allowing you to feel the heat emanating from him. "It involves your gorgeous naked body on my bed, some scented candles, and perhaps some massage oil."

You smiled at him. He always knew what you needed when you wanted to relax--and he was right on the money as always. The only issue was you didn't actually want to relax. You wanted to work out your frustrations over one of the most difficult cases of your career...and that meant something very different than what he had in mind.

"As lovely as that sounds, Nick, I'm in the mood for something a bit...rougher."

He looked a little surprised. "Rougher? Like what?"

Nick was a very gentle and attentive lover, always making sure you were completely satisfied in any sexual encounter you ever had with him. You loved his sweet, giving nature, but sometimes you wanted him to fuck you absolutely senseless.

Nick tended to take on a very soft dominant role in the bedroom and normally that was exactly what you needed, but you didn't want him to be soft tonight. You needed more from him--in ways the two of you had not yet explored together.

"I want you to take complete control--use me for your own pleasure. I don't even care if I cum, I just want you to feel satisfied."

He looked a little confused, so you elaborated further.

"Give in to some of your darker fantasies, Nick--treat me like I'm nothing more than an object for your gratification."

"Querida...I-I'm not sure I can do that."

You felt a little crestfallen, but you understood. It wasn't in his nature to treat you that way. "It's okay."

"Hey," he murmured, warm hand lifting your chin so he could look into your eyes. "Is this something you really want?"

You nodded vehemently. "Very much."

"Have I--have I not been satisfying you in bed?"

"Oh god no, Nick. Please don't think that. I love the way you love me, the way you make me feel. You're an incredible lover. It's just that sometimes I need something more--something to ground me in a way only a lover can."

He looked relieved, but still a bit unsure. "You know I'll do anything for you, (Y/N/N)."

You nodded.

"I just don't like the idea of taking advantage of you or hurting you--I don't want you to think I get off on that stuff or it's who I am or something."

"Nick, we've been together for six months and I've known you much longer than that. I would never think you capable of either of those things, okay?"

He nodded, clearly appreciative of your reassurances. "Okay, so...what do I do exactly?"

"Whatever you feel is right. Just trust your instincts. I'll tell you if I'm not into it or if I need to stop."

He nodded again. "Safeword?"

"Pineapple, as per usual."

"Alright. Promise me you'll use it if I do something you're not feeling."

"I promise."

"Good girl."

You watched as Nick's demeanor shifted from the loving man you knew him to be to a domineering presence you'd only seen him don at work. You couldn't deny the rush of arousal straight to your core, the anticipation alone making your knees weak.

"Strip and lay on the bed, face down." His tone left no room for questioning, and you raced to do as he'd demanded.

You laid face-down on the bed and waited for his next move. You heard him enter the bedroom and stalk closer to the bed. Suddenly, you felt the cool, silky fabric of his tie wrap around your face, blinding you completely.

"Is this okay?" he murmured.

"It's very okay, Nick," you confirmed. "Don't ask, baby--just do. I want to feel like you're in complete control."

He tied the silk tightly around the back of your head and leaned forward to growl lowly into your ear. "Count, (Y/N)."

You knew exactly what he was going to do next and your body shivered with anticipation. You felt his hands slide down your back, coming to rest on the curve of your ass. The first smack caught you by surprise, but it wasn't as hard as you needed.

"One," you counted. "Harder, please sir."

When his hand came down the second time, it was harder, but still not quite what you wanted.

As if he could sense it, Nick chuckled darkly. "You want harder, baby? Let's see what you can take."

The next three smacks were progressively harder and each one sent a thrill of pain-pleasure through your body. After the fifth, his large hands soothed your burning skin before he ordered you to flip onto your back.

You did as he asked, hands above your head. You felt the cold metal of his handcuffs wrapping around your left wrist, pulled through the bars on the headboard, then placed on your right wrist. You tugged lightly and found you were secured tightly to the headboard, now unable to move your arms.

"You look so pretty like this," Nick said softly. "All laid out for me, practically begging me to fuck you."

You whimpered softly, need coursing through your body.

"Don't worry needy girl, I'll fuck you soon enough. You just need to be patient."

You heard his movements near the bed, but you weren't sure what was happening until you heard the distinctive sound of his pants unzipping. Your pussy ached for his touch and you brought your legs together in search of some friction.

You yelped when his hand roughly smacked your upper thigh. "Keep those legs open. The only pleasure you're going to get is gonna come from me."

"Yes sir."

After a few moments, you felt the bed dip down as he climbed on top of you. You could feel the heat from his skin as he hovered over you, but the blindfold prevented you from seeing what he was going to do next.

"Open your mouth," he demanded.

You immediately did as requested.

"Good girl," he murmured.

You felt him shift before he slid his hard cock into your waiting mouth. You moaned happily, enjoying the sensation.

"I'm gonna fuck that pretty mouth of yours, baby, and you're gonna take it."

You couldn't respond verbally, but you nodded as enthusiastically as you could.

Your nod was all he needed to begin to properly fuck your mouth, taking everything you had to give and then some. You gaged around his large member, which only seemed to spur him on. The sounds coming from Nick's mouth were surprisingly obscene and you loved that you were the one making him feel so good.

After a few minutes, he removed himself from your mouth and you whimpered softly at the feeling of emptiness. He chuckled darkly and wiped some saliva from your chin before crashing his lips down against yours.

He broke the kiss when he heard you struggle against the handcuffs--clearly desperate to touch him. "If you tell me what you want baby, I might be generous enough to give it to you."

"Please fuck me, sir. Please," you begged.

"Well since you asked so nicely..."

You felt him spread your legs even wider and line himself up with your entrance. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down between your pussy folds, releasing a deep groan along with you.

Nick took a moment to steel himself, glad you couldn't see his worried expression. He desperately wanted to give you everything you asked for, even if it went against his nature. He didn't want to hurt you, but he couldn't deny how incredibly turned on you were by everything he'd done so far.

Without warning, he fully sheathed his cock inside you with one hard thrust. He didn't give you a single moment to adjust, instead setting a brutal pace from the start. He'd never come before you before--ever--but this was what you wanted, so he began to chase his orgasm immediately.

"Fuck, baby, your pussy feels so good--love the way you're squeezing me."

You moaned loudly, tugging at your bindings in a desperate need to touch him. You could feel the power in each of his thrusts, along with the agonizing pleasure of the stretch he always provided you.

"I wanna see you," you gasped, suddenly filled with the urge to watch him fall apart--fall apart for you.

"Beg me for it."

"Please, sir. Please, I wanna see you. I need to. Please, sir. I'll do anything."

He smiled and reached behind your head to untie the tie. "You sound so pretty when you beg for me."

He tossed the tie onto the bed, continuing to fuck you like he needed your pussy in order to survive. You watched him above you, gorgeous face shiny with a light layer of sweat, eyes locked onto yours as he chased his orgasm.

"You fuck me so well, sir," you praised him.

He groaned loudly, surprised by how much he liked hearing you praise him like that. "It's this sweet pussy of yours, baby. I can't get enough of it."

You smiled, the expression a mixture of physical and emotional pleasure. Now that you could see him, you wanted to watch him come for you--wanted to focus entirely on his face in the moment.

"I want you to fill me up, sir. Please, I need it."

"Yeah? Want me to fill you up?"

"Wanna feel your cum leaking out of me all night," you added.

"Mierda," he groaned. His thrusts became sloppier and his moans rougher. "Gonna cum for you, baby."

"Please, papi. Fill me up."

"Fuck!" he growled as he came, orgasm shockingly explosive. He thrust a few more times before collapsing on top of you, completely out of breath.

You wanted to wrap your arms around him, to comfort him and hold him, but your wrists were still securely fastened to the headboard.

After a few more moments, Nick pulled himself up into a sitting position and slipped his fingers between your folds, toying with your overly needy and sensitive clit. His dark brown eyes were fixed on yours, his own needs now the farthest thing from his mind.

"You don't have to--" you started.

"This isn't about you, querida," he cut in. "This is for my enjoyment. I wanna watch you come apart on my fingers."

You nodded, relaxing your body and allowing the pleasurable sensations to wash over you.

"That's it, hermosa. Just relax for me." His voice wasn't quite as harsh as it had been before, but there was still a clear demanding tone.

"I'm so close," you whimpered.

"I know, baby. I can feel it."

Your moans were like music to his ears--music he never wanted to stop listening to.

"I'm gonna cum," you gasped.

"No you're not," Nick said firmly, fingers not stopping their ministrations.

"Wha-what?"

"You don't cum until I say you can."

"But I-I can't hold it."

"You will or there will be consequences."

You focused all your energy on not coming, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. "Please," you whimpered.

"Not yet."

"Please, I-I can't--"

"Look at me, querida," he ordered.

Your eyes snapped open and you looked at his handsome face.

"Cum for me, mi amor."

You cried out a mixture of curse words and his name as your orgasm rushed through you with incredible intensity.

Nick didn't stop his movements until you began to beg him to stop--too sensitive for anything more.

Nick moved up your body and placed a soft, loving kiss to your lips. "You alright, hermosa?"

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath.

He smiled and reached for the handcuff key on the nightstand. "Let's get these off of you."

He quickly released you from the cuffs and you sighed happily as you relaxed your arms.

"Oh god," Nick said as he gently grabbed ahold of your arm. "Mi amor...god, I'm so sorry."

"For what?" you asked in confusion.

"Your wrists," he whispered.

You looked down at your wrists, angry bruises already forming from the way you'd fought against the handcuffs. You pulled yourself up into a sitting position so you could properly look at Nick.

"I'm perfectly fine, baby," you assured him. "The pain is part of my enjoyment. I'm glad you used them on me."

He looked a little worried still, but he seemed less upset. "Maybe we buy fuzzy ones for next time?"

You chuckled lightly. "Will it make you feel better?"

He nodded and you caressed his face lovingly. "Alright then. We'll buy some fuzzy ones."

He smiled warmly. "As difficult as it was for me to be so selfish tonight, I saw how much you loved it--how turned on you were--and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't hot as hell."

You grinned. "I enjoyed every moment of it, Nick. Thank you."

"Thank you for trusting me," he murmured, leaning in to kiss you softly.

"I trust you with my life, Nick Amaro, so it's not hard to trust you with my kinks too."

He chuckled lightly. "I'm happy to help you make any fantasy you want come to life. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

"The same goes for you--no fantasy is too wild for me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Challenged accepted."

You laughed warmly and he joined in. You leaned into his warm embrace, feeling safe, loved, and blessed to have found such an amazing partner.

#nick amaro x reader #nick amaro x reader smut #nick amaro smut #law and order svu #law and order svu smut

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