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☆. warnings - 2.5k. fem!reader, officer!jean, lowercase intended, black coded, hot sweaty car sex, public indecency, oral ꒰ m received ꒱, jean's rough bc he is, mild degradation, jean's your ex, reader rides jean, impact play, jean's a titty sucker srry i don't make the rules. minors aren't welcomed. comments are appreciated! <3!
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hues of blue and scarlet flicker over the body of your obsidian lexus rc 300, the vechicle behind you blaring the sirens like they're eardrum killers purposely meant to burst them. you hated those fucking things. police even more. huffing after wiping the tears off your face, you pull to the side of the empty road. it's extremely late at night. more-so early, around three in the morning. checking your rear view mirror, you spot the black camaro with an officer stepping out of it. just my fucking luck. as if you weren't already having a shitty night. kissing your teeth, you sniffle as you roll down your window before reaching into your glove compartment for your license and registration. you're not exactly sure why you're being pulled over to be frank.
the officer strolls towards your car, a tall, lanky man whose wearing a black long sleeve which hugs his muscles and sharp cut abs with dark jeans and heavy boots. the belt around his hips is thick and leather . . . expensive looking. when he's by the window to your vehicle, you turn to see his appearance. dewy pink lips plush as cotton. fawn long hair that brushes on the nape of his neck. a messy stubble on his jawline that shifts as he chews his gum. he didn't have a badge, nor a holster on his hips with a gun or a taser. however, he did have on a loose vest with multiple pockets. maybe he was off duty and you ruined his drive home? his scent is strong, recognizable even. bleu de chanel. makes the hair on your skin rise. his eyes are what really draw you in. low and dark, like a dravite tourmaline.
"i knew it was you."
a pang in your chest makes it nearly hard to breathe. you had to blink several times to decipher his image. you knew this man for sure. those lips of his curl into a lopsided grin as he witnesses your saddened eyes expanding. your fingertips slowly glide off your steering wheel as your hands drop into your lap. the man before you, your ex boyfriend, turns his neck sideways before spitting out his gum into the road. he has one hand on his hip and the other in his back pocket, now aware of the gun tucked in the back of his jeans. he's definitely off duty. the car he's driving is an undercover cop car.
