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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 3 months

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Over your head

It's been a while and most of this is personal to my life. Just needed to little Nick loving.

Warnings: None, just fluffy Nick.

WC: 736.

Enjoy x

You should have said no, but you couldn’t now, everything was in place and you knew it have to be like ripping a band aid off, but you were nervous. When Liv came to you and told you that SVU was going to be getting the funds to have an in-house forensic science lab and suggested that you go and get your degree so you could be the head of the lab, it took you nearly 3 days to decide. Life had not been kind recently and you were in your era of second guessing yourself with everything you had been through and what was still to come in your personal life. Your divorce was finally coming to the final stages of being settled and you had just got the kids in a routine as a single mom, and now you were nothing but crazy taking on a full-time degree study as well as working. It was lucky you lived with your mum and the kids went to the same school as Amanda's girls, so between her and Sonny, when you needed it, they said they had it all under control.

As you walked into the huge lecture hall, you found a seat as far up the back as possible and you sat down, sitting your bag on the seat next to you. You had a little giggle as your eyes scanned around the room at all these “Young kids” doing a course as heavy as this, thinking about everything you had seen after 12 years of SVU.

You were looking down at your phone to a message Amanda had messaged you about her plans with all the kids that afternoon after school when you heard a familiar voice and instantly all your worries melted away, your eyes slowly scanned up and surprisingly your eyes met and you blushed as he gave you quick wink and continued talking,

“Good morning, everyone, I’ am Nick Amaro your professor for the next 12 months. I’ am here to answer any questions you may have. All I ask is no phones during my class, unless an extreme emergency” Nick looked at you with a smirk and you giggled to yourself dropping you phone back into your bag.

If that is what you had to listen too for 1 hour every day for the next year, you would be glad to do it. Listening to Nick talking about all his lab skills and referring to his SVU days and cases he had worked on with you and how it led him to this path, made you feel warm and fuzzy. You hadn’t seen him since the night he told you he was moving to LA, your life was already a mess from the break up and he held you on floor as you sobbed at the fact that you were losing your best friend. You had kept in contact, he calling and facetiming the kids as often as he could but you never would have thought in a million years that he would be back in New York teaching.

You watched as all the other students filed out and then you stood up walking out of the aisle you were sitting on and you walked down the stairs. Just as you were almost at the bottom, Nick walked from around his desk and made his way towards the stairs, stopping at the bottom step not stepping up. You stopped on the bottom step, looking down at Nick, not taking them off his as you sat your bag down on the chair next to you. It was like a magnet pulled you together, your arms going around his neck and his around you middle,

“I’ve missed you sweetheart” Nick kissed the cheek he could reach.

You lent back, your arms going from around his neck and your hands went straight to his beaded cheeks, his moving to your hips, the feel of his facial hair smooth on your hands,

“You have no idea how much I have missed you. How long are you back for?”

“At the moment 3 years” he squeezed your hips “But I’ am hoping I won’t need to leave again”

“Have something important to stay for Professor?” You grinned.

“Yes actually” he paused for a moment looking down at your lips and then looking back up at your eyes “I ‘am looking at her”

Tags: @beccabarba @ben-c-group-therapy @alwaysachorusgirl @jemmakates

#law and order svu #svu fanfiction #svu fandom #svu fan #nick amaro x you #nick amaro x reader #nicolas amaro #law and order: svu #nick amaro imagine #nick amaro x female reader #nick amaro x

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 5 months

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Happy Birthday to me 🥰 thank you @beccabarba thank you for your friendship even though it's different time zones and miles apart 💜 this was delicious and exactly what I needed ❤️

Stolen Nights

Miguel Galindo x Female Reader

This is a slightly belated birthday gift for my lovely friend, @itsjustmyfantasyroom, who requested it ages ago. Now seemed like a good time. Thank you for being such an awesome friend, despite miles and time zones! And happy birthday again.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. It all ends in explicit smut.

Also, SPOILERS - if you've not seen the final season of Mayans MC, then don't read this!

Words: c. 3300

Tags: No idea who to include! Just lifted these Mayans tags from the last Miguel fic I wrote... @itsjustmyfantasyroom @thatesqcrush @berniesilvas @withmyteeth @witches-unruly-heart '@lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @alwaysachorusgirl

There was still light in the summer sky, streaks of pink against the palest twilight blue, when you decided to go to bed. Slipping between the soft sheets, in your soft tank top and panties, you shivered. Deep in your core, you felt that emptiness, that sense of longing. You reached to your throat, and felt for the little silver pendant. A crescent moon. When he’d given it to you, lifting your hair and fastening it around your neck with a brush of warm fingers, he’d leaned in a whispered it was because it symbolised the night time. The times you spent together. That one night in particular, where the moon had been gold in the sky over the desert, and you’d looked up at it as he made love to you for the first time. It wasn’t that you never saw him by day, but the nighttime was his territory. He was the devil, after all. El Diablo. And you had been entirely captivated by him.

Santo Padre seemed a long way away now. Another world. Leaving had felt like the only choice: after his death, after the raid at the Mayans’ clubhouse. Anyone who had ever offered you any kind of protection from the deadly forces that swirled between Santo Padre and the border was dead, or imprisoned. You knew too much, and yet not enough. Above all, there was nothing left for you there. Not without him. You fingered the silver moon pendant again, and felt the longing, the empty feeling. Your mind knew there was no hope of him again, of an end to the ache. But your body had not learned the truth of it yet, and you wanted him.

You didn’t love Miguel Galindo. At least, how could you? You knew what he was. And that was ruthless and dangerous cartel boss, and a married man. Off limits in every way. However you felt when you were with him, you knew love would make you vulnerable. So you told yourself it was lust only, affection perhaps: curiosity for the man behind the horror stories.

Miguel’s emotions were hard to read: even when he laughed, there was a shadow behind his eyes. Even as he kissed you, and fucked you, you were sure part of his mind was elsewhere. But he told you he was happy when he was with you, as close to carefree as he ever was.

For the two of you, in stolen nights, that was enough.

And the last of those stolen nights was over a year ago. He’d been killed, as Santo Padre had unravelled in violence, the undercurrents finally consuming it. The Galindo Cartel, the Mayans MC who had once done their bidding, and all who were associated with them, were swept away. In High School, you’d dated a guy who’d gone on to be a Prospect with the Mayans. It had been enough to tell you that you wanted nothing to do with that world. And you’d stayed away. Minding your own business. Emily Thomas, a younger girl at your school, had scandalously married the heir to the Galindo cartel, and you’d thought it was a very stupid decision. You valued life too much to risk playing with those dark forces.

But then you’d met him. He’d come into the law office where you were working as an assistant, when he was planning his ill-fated agropark. You’d probably not have flirted so much if you’d recognised him. But by the time you learned his name, you were already charmed. He was a very handsome devil, with those clever dark eyes, square jaw, and salt n pepper dark beard. But it wasn’t just his looks. He wore his power easily, it suited him. His confidence stopped just short of arrogance, in a way that was almost playful. And you had the most uncanny sense that he understood you, he knew you, he could read your thoughts.

When he treated you to a smile as he was leaving, a smile that wrinkled his eyes, but was followed by a darkly knowing, wolfish glance, you were entirely entranced. And that was how it began. Dinner, sometimes. Long rides in the soft leather seats of the Maybach to stay in hotels where no one knew him. Inviting him into your small apartment, into your bed in the moonlight. Willing yourself to ignore his marriage, to ignore the life he lived. To seize each moment. No one had ever made love to you like him, fucked you like him, possessed you like him. It was addictive.

And, a year later, you were sure he was still in your blood. Your body still wanted him, never to be satisfied again. It felt wrong, somehow, to fantasise about a dead man. So you didn’t indulge it. But you craved him. Moving across the country, to New York, a place where you could be lost and anonymous forever, had made no difference. It wasn’t so much that you mourned him; it was more that you couldn’t settle yourself to the idea that his body would never be pressed to you again.

You sighed, turned over and plumped your pillow, and tried to go to sleep.

When you woke, it was dark. You were bewildered to be awake, wondering what had caused it, reaching for your phone to check the time. Not quite as late as it felt, barely midnight. You’d hardly been asleep. You rolled onto your back, just as you heard the buzz of your intercom, and knew it was that which had woken you up.

Curious, since you barely knew anyone in the city apart from co-workers, you rolled out of bed and padded barefoot to the door, to lift the receiver and speak into the intercom. “Hello, who is it?”

There was a moment’s pause. You furrowed your brow. And then a voice, so familiar it made shudder to hear it so unexpectedly. “Miguel Galindo.”

Confusion, doubt, excitement, relief: they all flooded your body and you almost forgot you had to speak again. “Miguel Galindo is dead,” you replied. Were you being tricked, were you in danger? Surely…surely it couldn’t really be him? Your heart was thudding in your chest.

“And yet here I am.” It sounded so much like him.

“How do I know it’s really you?” you breathed.

You head a sound that was almost a chuckle. “There many things, amor, I could say that only I could know. But for now, is it enough to say that I gave you a silver moon necklace, to commemorate our first night together. The first time I made you…”

“Yes,” you interrupted, suddenly worried a neighbour would overhear, and feeling warm at the memory, even as relief and wonder filled your heart and your mind. “That’s enough. Either you’re Miguel or his ghost.”

“Then you’ll let me in?”

“Yes. And when you get up here, I want to know two things. How the hell did you find me? And why aren’t you dead?”

“Of course. Open the door, y/n.”

You did as he asked, pushing the button that would allow him through the door. And you waited. Tears felt close, as did laughter, and you felt a little sick. Until you saw him, you didn’t know how to pick an emotion. Your mind was racing, but offering no answers. He would have to provide them, before you knew how you felt, were able to relax. You needed to see him, to believe it. You could hear the elevator from your apartment, when it arrived at your floor. Footsteps, and a knock on the door that made you jump, even though you were waiting breathlessly for it. You inhaled deeply, then opened the door on the chain, peering around it.

Your eyes met his, all doubts gone in an instant. The emotions your heart chose were relief, and happiness, even above the confusion. To see his face again. You were so struck by the powerful emotions that you just stared for a long moment.

He smiled, a combination of genuine pleasure at seeing you, and as though he was enjoying how surprised you were. His gaze dropped to the chain stopping you opening the door properly. “You going to actually let me in? Now you can see it’s me?”

You looked at the chain, then back at him. “How come you’re not dead?”

“Would you rather I were?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No…but…I thought…”

“It’s a long story. But I’m not dead. Not a ghost. And very keen to kiss you.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. This wasn’t just a friendly visit then. “Kiss me?”

He smirked now. “Maybe more. If you like…I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you. I’m mad at you, for being dead.” You narrowed your eyes at him, but all the anger and grief was evaporating.

“We’ll call it make up sex if you like?” He cocked his head and his dark gaze locked to yours. “But you’ll have to let me in.”

“I’ve heard you’re a dangerous man.” You raised your hand to the chain.

“Maybe once. It never stopped you, did it?” You felt warm. “But now, that’s all over. Miguel Galindo did die that night in Santo Padre. Who I am now…I don’t know yet.”

You were intrigued by this, and some glimmer of hope flickered inside you. You opened the chain and he pushed the door, entering the apartment. You shoved the door closed behind him, and just looked up at him, examining all the lines of his face, so familiar and yet suddenly so strange. A memory made into flesh, and looking at you intensely. “I think you said something about kissing me?” you said at last.

Miguel stepped in towards you. You had time to note there was more grey in his beard than before, and then his hand was on your chin, caressing your cheek, fingers lifting your jaw to turn your face to him. His eyes were locked to yours, until your mouths were close enough to feel his breath on your lips. And then neither of you could hold back, and the kiss overtook you, deep and intense. His tongue fought yours and pushed into your mouth, his hand running up the side of your neck his fingers twining in your hair. You were so hungry for him, you kissed him back, hard, hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer. Just kissing him sent heat flooding through your body, focused between your thighs, but you could feel more than lust, you could feel your heart rejoicing too.

Eventually, you came up for air, breathing hard, with your forehead pressed to his. “How can this be?” you demanded again.

“I’ll tell you the whole story…But right now, I want to focus on you…” he went to kiss you again. You put a hand to his lips and he looked at you with a question in his eyes.

“Just summarise,” you insisted. “You can’t come here, suddenly resurrected, and not explain just a little bit…”

He smiled, perhaps a little sadly, and took a slight step back. “Alright. My wife tried to kill me. She was going to frame one of my men. But I discovered her plans. And I knew, then, what I always knew in my heart. I would never win her back. And I also knew that I didn’t really want to. You showed me what it was like to be with someone I truly respect, who was not in thrall to my money or my power. Not playing games. So I faked my death. She saw my body taken away in an ambulance. The business collapsed, but I survived. I got out. With enough money to start again.”

“But what about Christobal?” you said, thinking of his young son. It sent a shadow over his face.

“Emily will take care of him. I doubt everything about her, except that. For now, my priority is living, beyond the reach of everyone who might wish it otherwise. One day, I’ll find him again…but not yet. I won’t see him in danger.”

You smiled softly, reaching out to take his hand and stroke it softly. “You did die, really, didn’t you? Your old life…”

“Yes. But I spent some time with my aunt, and I visited old friends from Cornell. And I realised that there is another life, now I’m not a prisoner of my father’s legacy. This isn’t some great rebirth, where I repent of all my sins. I know who I am. But I can’t live that way now, and I won’t.”

“And now you’re here?”

He smiled, and took your hand between both of his. “I missed you. And it wasn’t that difficult to find you.” You raised your eyebrows at that, but he smiled and squeezed your fingers. “I wouldn’t have looked, if I thought you didn’t want me to find you.”

You smiled back. “Okay then. Well…you found me. And I think there’s a lot more to say.”

“But maybe later?”

You grinned. “Yes, maybe later.” You used your grip on his hand to pull him towards you, lips colliding again. And this time, the kiss had real intent. His big hands started working at your clothes, pulling at buttons and clasps, as you did the same in return, suddenly impatient to strip the fabric away and reach his hot skin. You felt the cool air on your body, then his touch in caresses which were urgent yet gentle. Naked, you cradled his face in your hands, fingers moving slightly in the texture of his beard, and looked into his eyes. “Come to bed with me.”

His eyes were soft, but you saw fire spark in them, sure that it was mirrored in yours. You wanted to hold him close, and tell him that now he was here again, in front of you, you were almost certain you loved him. But you also wanted his body weight pressing you into the mattress, him filling you, possessing you. “With very great pleasure, mi amor,” he murmured.

You held his hand and led him through to your bed. Compared to the luxury hotels you’d frequented with him, your room was small and plain. But, because of that, he seemed to fill it. Even this version of him had a strength about him, an essence you’d found it hard to live without. As if he could read the need in your eyes, he pulled you to him, your breasts crushing against his firm chest, as he kissed you again, then backed you towards the bed. Miguel could be a gentle and affectionate lover, but he was always dominant, always pushing you and claiming you. You welcomed it. The back of your legs hit the bed, and you wobbled. He steadied you with a grip on your arms, then treated you to a devilish smile as he pushed you down, one hand behind your back, lowering you onto the bed. Before you were even settled, you felt his strong hands on your thighs, pushing your legs apart, and pausing to appreciate the view.

“Miguel, get up here…” you whined. But he just chuckled, and slid his hands down your inner thighs, until his fingers found your folds and parted them, as he lowered his head. His tongue licked the length of you, before he captured your clit with his mouth, sucking and licking softly with his tongue. You gasped, both at the strength of the sensation, and the familiarity of it, even after all these months. You groaned, feeling the heat of his tongue and the rough of his beard, his hands holding your hips in place. His mouth was teasing, building you up as if he knew exactly what he was doing. No one had ever seemed to know your body like him. You could feel your climax approaching, faster and faster, your heart pumping hard and pleasurable waves rippling down your limbs.

“Oh god, Miguel…” you moaned, “I’ve missed you. Don’t stop…don’t ever stop…” You were even closer to the edge, about to tip over it. When he stopped, smiling against you.

“What…are you…?” you demanded, looking down and meeting his mischievous grin.

“I wanted to remind you what I can do to your body,” he said softly. “Because I’m going to fuck you in a moment, and I might not be able to hold back…”

You moaned deeply at his words, as he returned his mouth to its work, sucking your clit between his lips, then using his tongue rhythmically. You pressed against his mouth, and he let you, moving with you, until finally your orgasm burst searing hot through your body, in a way that made you cry out, and screw your hands into fists, one into the sheets and one in his hair. You pulled him against you, until you grew sensitive and released him.

He didn’t waste any time, before he was over you, covering you with his body, nestling between your legs. His mouth found yours, and you tasted of your own arousal, as he growled into the kiss and eased his hips forward, filling you, stretching you. You gasped against him, feeling the texture of his hair against your still sensitive clit. He didn’t move at once, but seemed to be gathering himself, his eyes glassy with desire. Then he moved his hips backwards, and snapped them forward again, thrusting deeply into you. The slight edge of pain made you catch your breath, but it set a new fire in you.

“Go on then, show me how alive you are,” you said, your tone an intentional challenge. He smiled a wicked smile, and made a deep, animal sound in his throat, as one hand reached down for your leg, bending it and pushing it back towards your shoulder, his grip bruising, as he slowly pulled out, and pushed back in again, all the way.

“You missed me fucking you?” he demanded, not moving inside you.

“You know I did,” you said. “So come on, show me…” you added.

His eyes danced, then travelled down your body. “This is all that remains of Galindo territory now…” he said, his voice heavy with lust. “I intend to ensure I take good care of what’s mine…”

“All yours, jefe, I’m all yours,” you whispered. He smiled warmly, at the echo of a life he had escaped. And then bent his head to kiss you lovingly, as he started to move his hips properly.

He fucked you harder and harder, his impressive cock pushing against all the sensitive spots inside you, and you could feel another orgasm building, as his body pushed against you. He was grunting, a sheen of sweat over his skin, as the hand left your leg, travelled over your breast, and found your throat, gripping lightly. “I’m going to fill you up,” he said, barely articulate, as he thrust harder still. The whole bed moved, but your body had stretched and softened for him, and every movement just took you closer and closer.

“I’m going to come for you, Miguel…” you said. “Give it to me…give it to me…” With that, you watched his face transform as his climax started to explode, and watching him accelerated your arousal, tipping you into your orgasm, feeling your body clenching around him, even as he shot his seed deep inside you, with another growl.

Breathless, he fell on top of you. His familiar body weight pressed on you, pinning you to the mattress, his cock still inside you. And you closed your eyes and breathed in his scent, feeling his heart beat, his body heat, the glistening sweat on his skin. He felt very much alive, very real. You could barely believe it, as you stroked his hair.

Eventually, he lifted his head, and rolled off you gently. You moved towards him, resting your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. “I still can’t believe you’re really here,” you said softly.

“I don’t plan on going anywhere again,” he said. “If you don’t want me to.”

“I want you to stay…” you smiled. “Besides, that was make up sex. We need to get through holiday sex, Valentine’s sex…and at least two rounds of birthday sex…To cover what we missed.”

Miguel smiled, his handsome smile. “Two birthdays?”

You nodded. “Yours and mine.”

“Ah, I see. And what would you like for your birthday, y/n?” He stroked your hair, then ran his fingers down your neck to touch the little crescent moon you’d never stopped wearing. For him.

“Well, maybe I just want to take a shower together, and hold you,” you replied, feeling a flood of emotion. “We’ve had a lot of sex, but not so much time.”

“I have all the time in the world now,” he said. And he sounded content, more so than you’d ever heard. “For you.”

You smiled, feeling as though your body was relaxing into the idea of him once more. “You being alive is the best gift I could want.”

He nodded, understanding. Then his face switched into a lascivious grin. “I’m going to show you how alive I am all night, over and over.” He reached for you, and you squealed, before submitting to his kisses and caresses.

Here, in the New York night, it might have been that Santo Padre had never even existed. A bad dream, long ago, of desert heat, the rumble of motorcycle engines, and El Diablo. It faded into nothing. No more stolen nights, not now. And the now was all that mattered.

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