“Oh, baby you're the only thing in this whole world That's pure and good and right. And wherever you are and wherever you go there's always gonna be some light” - Meat Loaf
“Heaven can wait and all I got is time until the end of time. Well I won't look back, I won't look back. Let the alter shine” — Heaven can wait, Meat Loaf.
MasterList ➡️ MasterList #2
Fandoms:
🤍 Animal Kingdom
🖤 Bates Motel
🤍 Bones
🖤 Cobra Kai
🤍 Criminal Minds
🖤 The Dukes of Hazzard - 80s TV show only!!
🤍 Full House - Joey/Jesse/Danny
🖤 Grey's Anatomy
🤍 Karate kid - 1984 cobra kais/Daniel/Chozen
🖤 The Lost Boys
🤍 MindHunter - Holden and Bill only
🖤 The Outsiders
🤍 Once Upon a Time - no Pan or gold
🖤 The Pitt
🤍 Ready or not 2: here I come
🖤 Supernatural - no destiel!
🤍 Stranger Things - no Eddie Musen and mostly Steve Harrington
Summary: the daughter of a Baptist preacher is secretly running around and dating the famous Elias 'stack' Moore. They met due to her father running an integrated church. Her father would die and go right to heaven if he found out what his "pure" daughter was doing with Elias - not because the differences in race, but because Elias had been the one to corrupt his innocent little girl.
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, slight corruption kink, reader is a specific race for plot purposes, oral(F receiving), blasphemy, rough - ish sex, dirty talk, religion, forbidden love, secret relationship, slight choking.
MasterList ML2
The Delta settled into the kind of summer evening that carried the smell of warm earth and river water. Cicadas screamed from the trees, and the last streaks of orange faded behind the cotton fields. Elias "Stack" Moore leaned one elbow out the window of Elijah's borrowed Ford, a crooked grin pulling at his mouth as gravel crunched beneath the tires.
“Don't scratch my car” Smoke had warned.
Stack had answered with nothing more than a laugh. The truth was, he hadn't borrowed it for a joyride - not really. It had been seven long days. Seven days since he'd seen her smile. Seven days since he'd heard her laugh. Seven days was entirely too long.
Word traveled quickly through the neighborhoods of the Delta. By supper, somebody had mentioned pastor Bailey was leading a week-long revival in Tennessee. Elias didn't need to hear another word. It would certainly be rude to leave a young girl all by her lonesome for a week - now, wouldn't it? The smug basterd even couldn't stop himself from grinning as he zoomed past the little white church - “if only that preacher knew”
If only the preacher knew the man that singlehandedly corrupted his precious, sweet little girl, set in his pews every Sunday. Elias didn’t believe in sin - at least not the kind he preached about from the pulpit. He believed in the curve of a woman’s waist, the taste of cheap whiskey, and the thrill of doing exactly what he wasn't supposed to do.
Pastor Bailey was no fool, but there were things he didn't know - maybe that was for the best. The widowed pastor had arrived from Baltimore with his daughter years earlier with ideas that most folks around the Delta called dangerous. He preached that every soul stood equal before God. Black, white, poor, or rich. - It didn't matter. He believed that we were all gonna live together in peace when we got to heaven, so might as well learn together too.
His congregation reflected it too. People whispered and others threatened. The Klan certainly hadn't appreciated the message and above all the pastor possessed two qualities in abundance - faith and absolutely no fear. Everybody knew the bible on his desk was there to save anyone's soul if willing. They also knew the loaded shotgun within arm's reach was there to protect his congregation. His belief in the 2nd amendment was just as strong as the Klan’s twisted and disgusting mindset.
Smoke respected a man who practiced what he preached, especially when that preaching came backed by equal measures of scripture and shotgun steel. Pastor Bailey was a dangerous kind of holy man - soft-spoken, gentle-hearted, but with a spine of pure iron. He protected his flock like a mother bear, willing to trade scripture verses with bullets if necessary.
Truth be told, Elijah and Elias only started attending because Annie insisted. “Boy,” she'd told both twins, “the Lord's been good to you whether you admit it or not”
Elias had rolled his eyes the entire first service - hell, he would have fallen asleep if Annie hadn't smacked that flashly fedora off his thick skull. But he had remembered every second of that day anyway. The preacher had been halfway through a sermon about judgment when Elais' attention drifted.
Not to the pulpit, but to the second pew closet to the front - she was sitting beside Grace Chow of all people. She had that pink bible opened to Revelations like a good little girl.
She looked like an angel, her profile soft and innocent, simple pale blue dress and her hair pinned back. She listened like every word her father spoke mattered. Then she looked up and caught him staring. Before his brain could catch up with his mouth, Elias gave the most flirtatious wink he'd ever given to any woman. And instead of looking offended she'd blushed - actually blushed and gave him the cutest smile he'd ever seen. And that smile hadn't left him ever since.
If only the preacher knew Elias Moore had singlehandedly corrupted his daughter - Took her. virginity inside that very church no less.
The memory of it still made him grin like a fool - that stolen hour between Wednesday night Bible study and the late service, when he'd backed her against the choir loft the day she wore that prim little dress. He didn’t believe in blasphemies or purities, but he believed in the way her legs had wrapped around his waist and the way she’d bitten his shoulder to hold back her cries.
Goddamn, that girl had learned fast. He'd taught her how to touch him, how to take him deep, how to ride him until they were both shaking and desperate. She had learned that the things her daddy preached about as sinful - greed, gluttony, lust - felt an awful lot like heaven when Elias was the one administering them. He’d taught her where to press her fingers to make her back arch and that being a "good girl" didn't mean being silent.
The thought alone was enough to make Elias shift in his seat as he navigated the winding roads. Dust swirled around the crimson car as he pulled up to the Bailey house. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of purple and gold. He killed the engine and sat for a moment, running his thumb over his bottom lip as he stared at the front door.
That house was the definition of wholesome. The porch was swept clean, lace curtains in the windows, and a swing rocking gently in the evening breeze. It was the home of a God-fearing man and his beloved daughter, the absolute sanctuary of Southern propriety.
It was also the residence of Elias' personal addiction. He climbed out of the car and quietly shut the door. There was only a lamp glowing in the window. He stepped onto the porch and gave the screen door the gentlest knock he could manage. He heard the floorboards creak inside. His heart did that annoying little stutter it always did around this house, like some kind of twisted religious experience. He adjusted his collar - damn thing feeling too tight suddenly - and ran a hand over his jaw. He'd washed up. Smelled like Bay Rum cologne instead of the usual cigarette and Irish beer.
A moment later the door opened just enough for one bright e/c eye to peek through. “Elias” the whole door swung wide and her arms were around his neck. The sweetest greetings he's ever received. Not even Smoke was ever that happy to see him - and they were twins.
Elias caught her smoothly, one hand splaying out across her lower back as he pulled her flush against him. “Well, hell,” he murmured softly, nuzzling into her neck without a single care - thank the lord she didn't have neighbors. “Miss me, Baby?”
“course,” Y/n pulled back, but didn't break the connection. Her tiny hands curled into that burgundy vest that framed his body so well. “thought you gone and forgotten about me”
“Never happen, sweetheart.” Elias caught her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. His expression was shamelessly soft - a side of him absolutely nobody else got to see. Not Smoke, not Sammie, not Annie. Just her. “A man doesn't forget his obsession”
That word made her shiver - she liked being Elias' obsession. She liked being the only person who could make Elias Moore act like a lovesick fool, the only person who could make him knock politely instead of just letting himself in. She was the reason he washed the whiskey off his breath and ironed his shirt.
“Missed you,” she said and looked up at him with those sweet eyes like he hasn't ruined her billion times over. “You really drove all this way just to see me?”
“Every Mile,” Elias said, dipping his head to the side and pressing a soft kiss to her neck before slipping his hands into his pockets. He leaned against the doorframe casually, trying to play it cool - like he wasn't halfway across town to spend one night with her. “Your daddy leave?”
“this mornin' for Tennessee,” she smiled as those sweet little eyes took a quick scan up and down his body. It's scary to think how her mind works like his now.
His suit jacket was long gone and he was wearing that pale red dress shirt and burgundy suit vest over that muscular chest of his. He still had that red tie tucked in behind it, but it was loose at his neck. “He'll be gone all week” she said as her slim fingers loosely gripped his tie and pulled him closer by it.
He let her reel him in without an ounce of resistance, stepping across that sacred threshold like he owned the place. Her little hand fisted in his silk tie was the only leash he’d ever accept. “A whole week,” he murmured, smirking down at her. “Lord have mercy on my soul”
“Guess we'll be praying for forgiveness Sunday” she smirked.
“Don't hold your breath, baby,” Elias laughed low in his throat, moving his hands to grip her waist and kick the front door shut with his heel. The sound of the latch clicking felt heavier than a gavel strike. “If the Good Lord heard the things I’m planning to do to you all week, he’d strike me dead before I even made it to the amen”
Her fingers traced a slow, deliberate path along his jaw, feeling the rough scratch of stubble - he hadn't shaved this morning. “Would you die happy?” She stared up at him with that sweetness that usually made him want to ruin her something fierce.
“Die happy? Baby, if I died with your name on my lips, I'd be the happiest sinner to ever cross that river” His hands tightened on her waist, lifting her effortlessly to sit on the dining room table. He stepped between her thighs, leaning down so his lips brushed against hers.
He kissed her slowly, reverently, treating that innocent mouth like the most holy thing in existence. The contradiction was lethal - a man dressed in expensive suits and danger, absolutely worshiping the preacher's daughter. His hands slid up her thighs under her skirt, ruining her decency before they even started. “My good girl,” He murmured against her mouth. “My sweet, wicked girl”
She sighed into his mouth, wrapping her legs around his waist to drag him impossibly closer. The heat of his big palms against her inner thighs was enough to make her head spin, completely bypassing any Sunday school lesson she’d ever learned. “Elias” she shuddered, fingers curling into his vest.
Elias tilted his head and deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against hers with that practiced, sinful skill that made her toes curl. He kissed her like a man starving, like a man who would burn the whole damn town to the ground if it meant he could keep tasting her.
His hands were already working their magic, sliding under her skirt with zero hesitation, thumbs hooking into the waistband of her panties. He wanted them gone. He wanted her bare and spread for him on this very table where her daddy said grace. The blasphemy of it made his cock throb painfully against his slacks.
“P-please... Elias” y/n said softly - begging.
There was something devastatingly beautiful about the preacher's daughter begging for sin right in the center of her father's dining room. “Shh, baby,” He soothed against your neck, hand sliding down to grip your thighs possessively. “Just let me take care of you, alright?” He whispered as he dropped to his knees between your thighs.
Elias hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, slowly dragging them down her legs and pressing a reverent kiss to the inside of her thigh as he tossed them aside onto the pristine rug. He looked up at her from his knees, resting his chin against her inner thigh, eyes dark and worshipful. “Open up for me, sweetheart”
It was the ultimate surrender - a sweet, innocent girl parting her legs for sin itself. Y/n leaned back on her hands, spreading her thighs obediently, exposing herself completely. Her daddy would have a coronary seeing his daughter bare on the table like this. Elias looked up at her like she was the altar and he was the man meant to worship.
“E-Elias”
“I know, baby,” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh. “I know” His hands slid up her legs, spreading her wider as he leaned in and pressed his mouth against her center. The first lick was slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of heaven. His stubble grazed her sensitive skin, making her head tilt back as she let out pleasurable whine.
The sound made his cock twitch hard against his slacks - preacher's daughter whimpering like a sinner in his mouth. He used his thumbs to spread her open wider, exposing every delicate fold like he was studying scripture. His tongue dipped low first, tracing her perimeter before teasing the slit. He wasn't rushing. Never rushed with her. Every moan she gave was earned.
“Elias,” y/n shuddered, her hips arching as her fists curled into the collar of his shirt. “D-don't stop... Please don't stop”
Like he could ever stop once he had her taste on his tongue. Like he wouldn't burn in hell happily if it meant he could eat this sweet pussy all day. He groaned against her, the vibration making her gasp his name in prayer. He flattened his tongue and licked her slowly, thoroughly, worshipping her clit like a holy sacrament. Her legs shook helplessly, those pretty thighs trembling against his ears. This was his church, his altar, his religion - burying his face between the preacher's daughter's legs. He sucked gently, drawing a high, broken whine from her throat as her hips arched desperately and utterly ruined.
The vibrations of his groans hit her clit directly and made her back arch off the table. Stubborn little thing - she was already close and he could taste it, sweetening rapidly. His tongue worked her with the patience of a man who had nothing but time, nothing but this week to worship at her altar.
“I need to come,” y/n begged desperately. “P-please, I'm so close, Elias”
“Then come, baby” He could feel her tightening, her walls fluttering around his tongue as he pushed it deep inside her, fucking her with his mouth while his thumbs pressed against her clit. Preacher's daughter came apart like shattered glass, beautiful and desperate. He caught every tremor, every gasp, every moan that wasn't for God but for him.
He sat back on his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning smugly as he watched her catch her breath. She looked utterly debauched - hair messed up, skirt hiked up, face flushed, mouth parted. He kissed her inner thighs gently before standing up between her spread legs. He unbuttoned his vest slowly, giving her access to his shirt buttons. “Unbutton me” he commanded softly.
Her fingers shook slightly as she obeyed, unbuttoning his shirt with trembling hands. He helped her push the fabric off his shoulders, revealing his chest - hard muscles, beautiful dark skin, and the faint scars that told stories that he could never bring himself to tell her.
But she traced every scar unconsciously - one across his ribs, another near his collarbone. Each one a testament to a life she'd never fully understood, but craved. He watched her face, letting her memorize every inch as his chest heaved slightly. Her fingers traced down to the V-line of his torso dipping into his slacks.
“B-bedroom,” her voice was breathlessly soft - desperate. Her soft gaze met him. “please”
He didn't need to be told twice. The way she looked at him - needy, desperate, wanting him like he was her personal salvation - made his cock ache. He gathered her up effortlessly, carrying her bridal style through her daddy's house. Up the stairs, past the family photos, past the Bible verses framed on walls, and into her bedroom.
Her room was exactly how he remembered - soft pink walls, lace curtains, smell of rose and mint - her daddy would be proud. His cock throbbed as he set her down on her bed, taking in the pretty details. Like the Bible on her nightstand with flowers pressed between pages and the teddy bear that rested against the bed frame.
“Elias...” y/n whispered. “P-please. Make love me, ruin me”
Those words - fuck. Something dark and possessive swelled in his chest at the vulnerability in her voice. This good girl wanted him to mark her up, wanted her daddy's perfect daughter fucked senseless in her bed.
“I always do” He murmured as his belt hit the floor with a clatter before kicking his slacks off, followed by his boxers, leaving him bare and heavy, his cock flushed and hard against his stomach. He crawled over her, palms on either side of her head. He lowered himself to press a heated kiss against her throat, right over her frantically beating pulse. Then he reached behind her back, finding the zipper of her dress and dragging it down with agonizing slowness. The fabric fell away, leaving her bare on her soft sheets. Only thing left was the small golden cross necklace resting between her breasts. He hovered over her, his cock throbbing against her stomach, trapping her in his shadow.
“Spread your legs, baby” He murmured against her neck, his voice rough with desire.
He watched her obey, his eyes darkened as he took in the sight - soft thighs parted, pink pussy glistening with arousal, innocent body ready for his sinful touch. He reached down, gripping his cock and rubbing the head against her wet folds, teasing her entrance.
“Elias, P-please!” she whined.
“Shh, baby... I got you” He whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips as he slowly pushed inside her. Her walls clenched around him immediately - tight, hot, perfect. He groaned into her mouth as he filled her inch by inch until he was seated deep inside. “Fuck…”
“Oh, God. Don't ever stop” She moaned, biting her lip as her nails made little crescents into his back. He started to move slowly, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in deeply, grinding his hips against her clit. He watched her face, committing every soft whimper, every flutter of her eyelashes to memory.
“I'll fuck you every day until your father finds out. Until he knows his precious daughter is taking a black man's cock like a whore” Elias snapped his hips this time, his body slamming hers with increased ferocity.
The blasphemy of it made her gasp - his words were filthy, wrong, sinful. But her body betrayed her, clenching harder around him. He hit that spot inside her that made her toes curl, grinding against it deliberately.
“And you know what he'll say, huh?” He fucked her faster now, making the bed creak. “He'll say, 'My babygirl is lost - she's fuckin’ the devil.' And you know what I'll say?” He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear.
“I'll tell him his daughter found a better salvation,” He slammed into her particularly hard, making her cry out his name. His hand wrapped around her throat - not squeezing, just holding, claiming. “A salvation that actually satisfies her. I'll make you scream my name instead of praying to heaven”
His cock hit that spot again, making her vision blur. He angled his hips to grind ruthlessly against that spot, watching her eyes roll back. Her pussy fluttered violently around him, sucking him in deeper. “Only thing listenin’ to you is me,” He moved faster, driving into her with sinful precision, ruining her for anyone else. “Who makes you feel this good?”
“You!” she choked out, her back arching violently off the mattress as her nails clawed down his back. “feels so good”
The bed creaked and moaned in protest as he hiked her thigh higher up his hip and fucked her harder, unable to hold back anymore. He was defiling the pastor's baby girl in her own bed, using her body to worship at his own personal altar of lust. “Come for me, baby” He demanded hoarsely, grinding against her clit.
He rolled his hips sharply against that sensitive spot inside her, forcing the orgasm out of her violently. Her entire body seized, back bowing off the mattress as she screamed his name, her walls clamping down around him like a vice. He fucked her through it, whispering filthy praises, ruining her completely on her floral sheets.
Elias groaned as her tight heat milked him, triggering his own release. He swiftly pulled out, emptying his load all over her plush thighs with a guttural curse that would make her father faint. He collapsed over her, both of them panting heavily, his sweaty forehead pressed against hers. “That's my good girl”
Her chest heaved, heart hammering against her ribs. She was ruined - absolutely ruined. Her father's daughter, coming on a sinner while her Bible sat five inches from her hand. She looked at Elias - sweat glistening on his dark skin, cock still half-hard and leaking onto her thighs, looking like the devil himself.
He leaned down, capturing her swollen lips in a messy, dirty kiss, stealing the air right from her lungs. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, his dark eyes boring into hers - possessive, unrepentant. “God ain't watching you now, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the cross around her neck. “I am”
“will you protect me always?” she whispered.
“Until my dying breath,” He swore without hesitation. “I’ll worship you, and kill anyone who ever touches you.” He brushed her nose with his. “You’re mine, baby. Not God’s. Mine”
He pulled away to look at her, his gaze softening as he took in her flushed face and sated body. He slowly cleaned her up with the handkerchief he kept in his pocket, wiping away the evidence of their release. When he was done, he pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest as he lay back on the twin sized bed that was barely big enough for the both of them.
His hand rubbed circles on her back. He felt like a criminal in a sanctuary - his very presence a blasphemy against everything in this room. Yet he couldn't deny the weight of her body against his. This woman. This girl who should've been praying to a God and not a man like him. And somehow - some way - she loved him.
Morning sunlight filtered through Rigo's bedroom curtains in thin, golden stripes, painting the room in a warm glow. A small Bluetooth speaker on the dresser played softly - 'we belong together' by Ritchie Valens. Rigo was pressed against her softly, singing along softly as he pressed gentle kisses against the side of her neck before brushing another across her cheek. “You're mine... and we belong together”
It had become one of y/n's little routines Rigo had become a custom too - music every morning, no matter how early the alarm. Some days it was Elvis, some days classic rock, and on quieter mornings like this, something slower. The soft melody floated through the room as Rigo gently traced patterns on her bare shoulder, his voice barely above a whisper but absolutely sincere. Y/n turned her head slightly, catching his lips with hers in a slow, sleepy kiss.
“You're my, my baby and you'll always be. I swear by everything I own You'll always, always be mine”
She smiled against Rigo's mouth as he humming the next few bars. She groaned playfully before pushing him back into the mattress. She propped herself on her arm as her hand rested against his bare chest near his heart. The sheets were tangled around their legs, the room warm and smelling faintly of them both.
“Eres tan hermosa,” Rigo murmured, slipping out effortlessly as his hand coming up to cover hers where it rested over his heart. His thumb stroked over her knuckles, his eyes soft and sleepy as he looked up at her. The song continued to play in the background, Ritchie Valens singing about forever while Rigo looked at her like he’d already found it. His fingers intertwined with hers, holding her hand against his chest as if to keep her there forever. He leaned up slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers.
For a while neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't awkward - It was comfortable. The kind of quiet that only came after weeks of learning each other's habits and finding peace in simply being together. Finally she sighed. “what if we just say to hell with it and stay in bed all day”
Rigo laughed softly, the vibration rumbling against her palm where it rested on his chest. He tilted his head back slightly against the pillow, his dark eyes meeting hers with a lazy, tempting grin. “It’s very tempting,” He brought her knuckles to his lips. “But we can’t” he said gently.
Y/n let out a small, frustrated breath, but there was no real heat in it. Her forehead pressed against his chest. “I know”
Rigo pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, his hand smoothing down her tangled hair soothingly. Then he shifted, rolling them both again until she was on her back and he hovered above her, bracing himself on one arm so he didn’t press too much of his weight down.
His eyes searched her face for a moment - less teasing now, more serious. “You feeling better?”
That made her pause - just for a second. “Yeah” she nodded.
Rigo studied her face, knowing her well enough by now to catch the subtle tells. She looked peaceful, but he knew the weeks of stress were still sitting heavy under her skin.
He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her lips. “Good,” he murmured gently as his thumb brushed lightly along her cheek, steady and grounding. “I’ll try to talk to Jack” he said after a beat.
“Rigo -”
“I will,” he repeated, calmer but firm. “Not to fight him. Just… talk. This can’t keep going like this”
“Okay,” she said softly. “But don’t go in there thinking you can fix everything in one conversation”
“I’m not that optimistic,” he smiled gently, shifting his weight so he could press one more kiss to her forehead. He pulled back slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He leaned down and pressed another gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
Outside, the world was already moving. Inside, for a few more seconds, neither of them let it catch up to them.
~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~
- present time
Grey Sloan Memorial was already in motion before the ambulance doors even opened. That was the thing about trauma surgeons and firefighters - both sides recognized severity instantly, no explanation needed. Bailey was there first, eyes sharp as she took in the vitals being called out. “Penetrating abdominal trauma, hypotension, active bleeding controlled en route” Ben reported quickly.
Owen Hunt was already beside the gurney. “Move him,” he ordered. “OR one prep now!”
Rigo’s face was pale in a way none of them liked. It wasn't the usual post-fire exhaustion - this was different. Jack came in right behind the stretcher, still in turnout gear, helmet in hand, eyes locked on the gurney like he was refusing to blink. Behind him - Vic, Andy, Travis, Dean, Maya - all of Station 19 all silent. All watching. They didn’t go to the trauma bay. They went to the waiting room because right now, there was nothing else they could do.
Carina DeLuca stepped into the hallway carrying a patient file. She slowed when she recognized nearly the entire crew from Station 19 sitting together - all of them.
Her smile faded. “Maya?” Maya looked up. Carina immediately crossed the room. “What happened?”
Maya exhaled. “There was...” she paused. “it was a bad call”
Carina's eyes widened slightly. She looked back over her shoulder at the trauma bays. “Is everyone alright?” Her gaze landed on Jack, who still hadn't looked away from the OR doors. She followed his line of sight and her heart sank. “Who?”
“Rigo”
Carina exhaled slowly. She knew Rigo - y/n would always talk about him with stars in her eyes. Her and Carina both shared the weight of constantly worrying about their better half being out in the field. Maya had found out about Rigo and y/n a few days before the incident between him and Jack - Carina had accidentally let it slip one night.
“How bad?” she asked carefully, settling beside Maya, squeezing her knee.
Maya hesitated then quietly admitted. “Not good”
Carina swallowed hard. Not good. In trauma speak, that usually meant something catastrophic. She glanced at the others - Vic and Andy were practically vibrating with anxiety. Jack looked sick to his stomach.
“Where's y/n?” Carina asked, the question escaping before she could stop it. “Has anyone told her?”
Silence answered her. Maya rubbed the back of her neck. “umm, Not yet”
Carina stared at her. “Maya, she's his girlfriend. She needs to know. Right now.” The words came out harsher than intended, but Carina couldn't help it. Y/n was her best friend. She'd been through hell and back, and Carina had watched her slowly, carefully putting her heart back together with Rigo in the center of it all.
Carina nodded, standing up. “I'll get her”
Carina didn't stop and walked quickly down the familiar halls of Grey Sloan. Her stomach churned. She'd delivered bad news countless times - families, partners, friends. But this hit differently. Y/n. Her sweet, resilient best friend who'd finally, finally found someone worthy of her heart. Someone who made her glow.
Across the hospital, one floor up, y/n was finishing up a surgery in the OR. The rhythmic beeping of monitors and the focused chatter of the surgical team filled the operating room. Y/n moved with practiced precision, her gloved hands steady as she completed the final steps of the procedure.
The OR doors swung open and Carina stepped inside, holding a mask to her face. Something in Carina's eyes immediately made her pause. “Hey, what's up?”
Carina's mouth opened but no words came out. She'd rehearsed this moment a thousand times in her head - how to tell someone their world was ending. But there was no script, no perfect way. Only the brutal, necessary truth.
“Y/n...” she started, her voice breaking. The surgical team went silent, all eyes turning to them. “Can you get someone to close up?”
Y/n glanced up at carina then quickly back down at her patient, still working. “I'm almost done”
Carina's heart hammered against her ribs. She could see the focus in Y/n's eyes, the determination to finish what she started. But time wasn't a luxury they had right now. “Bella,” Carina whispered, her voice barely audible over the OR's ambient sounds. “I need you to come with me. right now”
A knot began forming in y/n's stomach. “What happened?”
Carina's mouth went dry. She couldn't say it. Not in front of all these people. Not while y/n had her hands covered in someone else's blood. “Walk with me” Carina insisted. Her mind was racing. She'd delivered bad news to families before. She knew how to handle herself.
Y/n hesitated, her hands still working. She knew Carina well enough to sense the urgency. With a final stitch, she handed the instruments to a nurse and removed her gloves then quickly cleaned up before following Carina out of the OR.
The two women walked quickly through the corridors. Neither spoke for almost a minute. Finally - “Carina”
Carina hesitated. “...Let's just - just follow”
Y/n's pulse began to climb. By the time they reached the elevators, her mind had already started racing. Jack? A bad call? No If it were Jack someone would've called - wouldn't they?
The elevator doors opened and the waiting room came into view. Y/n stopped walking when she saw station 19 - every single one of them. All except Rigo. No one was talking - it was expressionless. Hallow. Jack sat hunched forward, his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His turnout pants were still on, and there were dark stains across the front of his coat. Blood - too much blood. The moment he looked up and saw his sister, guilt washed over his face.
Y/n felt the air leave her lungs and a lump formed in her throat. “Where's Rigo?”
Carina hand found her back, steadying her. “He's in surgery. He was on a call with Jack - there was... an incident”
The color drained from y/n's face. Blood. Jack's clothes. The station crew's silence. None of them said stable. None of them said he'll be okay. her eyes flicked to her brother - she knew that look. “what happened?” her voice dropped - it was harder this time.
Jack stood up slowly, his movements heavy and stiff. He looked like he’d aged ten years in the last hour. He opened his mouth, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. He wiped a hand over his mouth, the dark soot and blood smearing on his skin. “there was an explosion,” he rasped, his voice barely recognizable. “I couldn't pull him back in time”
It felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath her. The air in the waiting room suddenly became suffocating, too thick to breathe. Explosion. Jack hadn't pulled him back. The blood on his gear. Y/n stared at her brother, the man who had spent her entire life protecting her, but right now, he looked broken. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at her devastation.
“No,” she whispered, but it came out too quiet. The word didn't hold any weight. It didn't make any of this untrue.
She didn't wait for Jack to continue. She didn't ask questions. Her legs were already moving, carrying her past the OR doors, her hand reaching for the handle.
“Y/n- ” Jack grabbed her wrist.
“I need to see him” she said, her voice cracking.
“Y/n, you don't want to see him like that,” Jack said gently, trying to keep her from charging into the trauma bay. She could see the panic rising in her eyes, the desperation. “Please, just wait”
“I can't-” y/n choked out, her entire body starting to tremble. This wasn't a patient. This wasn't a surgery. This was the man she loved.
Her entire world was behind those doors. The man she loved, the man she was building a future with, the person who made her whole. Jack’s face had said enough. An explosion - massive trauma. Jack immediately stepped in, wrapping his arms around his sister and pulling her into his chest. “I've got you. I've got you”
She hit his chest, forcefully and uneffectively. Jack's arms tightened around her despite everything - despite the guilt he felt. He was the thing that possibly destroyed Rigo and her - staying in his arms was the only thing keeping her standing. For years it was just the two of them and despite the anger and unfair blame she felt towards her brother, she fell into the familiar rhythm of seeking his comfort.
She couldn't help but cling to him. Her hands gripped his blood-soaked coat, desperately searching for something solid, something real. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed - deep, guttural cries that came from somewhere primitive and raw.
~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~
Y/n stood at the counter in one of Rigo’s shirts, sleeves rolled up, focused on the garlic and onions frying in the pan in front of her. The Bluetooth speaker on the counter played softly in the background. Ritchie Valens filled the space between them - that same damn song. The one Rigo had started calling theirs without ever asking permission.
Rigo padded barefoot into the kitchen, wearing only gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her neck. “Mm, smells good” he muttered against her skin, his stubble scratching gently.
She leaned back into him, one hand stirring the pan while the other came up to cover his on her waist. The shirt sleeves rolled up revealed the tattoo on her forearm. His jaw settled on her shoulder. Ritchie Valens singing 'We Belong Together' and Rigo hummed along, barely audible. There was a comfortable pause between them before he said. “dance with me”
Y/n tries to fight back the grin forming on her lips. “Rigo…”
He spun her around in one fluid motion, his hand catching hers before she could protest. His other hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her flush against his chest. The song swelled around them as he swayed, gentle and slow in the middle of their tiny kitchen.
“Come on, cariña,” he murmured, his eyes locked on hers, dark and warm. “Just one song”
She tilted her head slightly, watching him in awe. “one song” She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting herself relax into the movement.
He leaned his forehead against hers, his thumb tracing circles on her lower back as they moved together, perfectly in sync. There were no words needed, just the music and the comfortable silence between them. The scent of garlic and onions still cooked on the stove, forgotten. His lips brushed her temple, featherlight.
Then her chin tilted up and she captured his lips with her own. The kiss was soft, unhurried - a quiet conversation of its own. His lips moved against hers with practiced familiarity, yet still held that same electric current that had been there from the beginning. One of his hands tangled in her hair, holding her close as the other stayed pressed firmly against her lower back, anchoring her to him.
When the kiss deepened, it deepened quickly. It was full of passion and warmth and intimacy that only came from knowing each other so completely. His tongue traced her bottom lip before slipping inside, exploring her mouth with a leading thoroughness. His fingers tightened in her hair as she melted into him, the kiss becoming more urgent. The song changed to something with a beat, more quicker - a perfect backdrop. He walked them backwards until her hips hit the countertop, lifting her up without breaking the kiss.
Her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, her heels digging into his lower back. The cold granite of the counter pressed against her thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His hands slid under the oversized shirt she wore, his palms rough and warm against her bare skin, pulling her impossibly closer.
He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down her neck, marking her skin with open-mouthed kisses and gentle bites. His hands squeezed her thighs possessively before sliding up to cup her ass, pulling her against the growing hardness in his sweatpants. “Fuck” he muttered against her skin.
Her head tipped back, a soft moan escaping her lips as his mouth mapped her throat with perfect, devastating precision. Her fingers threaded through his dark hair, pulling him closer, completely surrendering to the moment. The garlic and onions were burning forgotten on the stove, but neither of them cared. It was just them - always them.
Then the smoke alarm blared, finally breaking through their haze. “Holy shit”
Rigo let out a frustrated laugh, rushing to turn off the stove. He waved a towel at the smoke alarm while she opened windows, the smell of burnt food filling the kitchen. He stepped away from the stove, wiping his hand on his sweatpants. He glanced at her - her lips slightly swollen, hair a mess, still flushed from the kiss. He exhaled sharply, a muscle in jaw ticking as he fought back a smirk. “Dinner's ruined”
“And whose fault is that?” y/n raised an eyebrow.
Rigo didn’t even try to deny it. He leaned his hips back against the counter, crossing his arms over his bare chest, that signature smirk stretching across his lips. “Mine. One hundred percent mine” he admitted freely, his eyes darkening as they raked over her.
“Mhm”
He stepped back toward her slowly, like a predator closing in on its prey. “You didn't exactly protest” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her swollen bottom lip. “In fact, I think you started it”
His eyes dropped to where the shirt had ridden up on her thighs, then back to her face. “Order takeout?”
Y/n couldn't fight the laugh. “Takeout. Definitely.” She reached up, fixing his messy hair. You could see it in her eyes - completely in love. That was them. Domestic chaos, ridiculous arguments, and absolute, consuming love.
~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~✿~
- present time
The waiting room settled into an uneasy silence after the siblings pulled apart. Jack wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, leaving another streak of soot across his face. He kept his eyes forward, sitting close enough to her that their shoulders touched. “I'm sorry” he said again, quieter this time.
Y/n shook her head. “We'll talk about this later” Her voice trembled, but it was steady enough. “Right now... I just need him to be okay”
Hours passed slowly. The trauma team came out twice to update them, but both times they were vague - critical condition, extensive injuries, in surgery. Each time, their faces gave away more than their words. Hours after the sun went down Owen Hunt stepped inside, still wearing surgical scrubs and his green scrub cap.
The room stood all at once. Y/n's heart dropped into her stomach as she searched Owen's exhausted face desperately. He took a slow breath. “We've stabilized him,” The entire room exhaled as one. “But... The next twenty-four hours are critical”
Y/n stepped forward. “Is he awake?”
Owen shook his head. “He lost a lot of blood... We repaired the abdominal injuries and got him on a ventilator,” He took a slow breath, looking directly at her. “we moved him to the icu”
Without another word, Y/n was already moving. She pushed past Owen, down the hall, her scrubs swishing around her legs. She didn't need directions. She's worked here for too many years - just never with him as the patient. She reached the ICU room and stopped short. Rigo lay still beneath the machines. Wires snaked across his body.
He looked smaller under the white sheets, his tan skin pale against the pillow. Tubes and wires connected him to machines that breathed for him, monitored his heart rate, regulated his blood pressure. There was a large bandage across his abdomen where they'd repaired internal injuries.
Y/n pulled a chair close and sat. Carefully, she reached for his hand. It felt warm - Thank God. “I'm here,” she whispered, wrapping both of hers around it. “I’m here, my love”
His fingers twitched beneath hers - tiny, almost imperceptible movements. The monitor beeped steadily, maintaining the rhythm of his life. His dark hair flopped over his forehead like it always did after a long night and his stubble had grown thicker. Y/n gently pushed his hair back before her fingers fell down the curve of his jaw.
Hours ticked by on the wall clock. Y/n didn't get up. Her eyes remained fixed on his hand, watching for another twitch. She counted the machine-aided breaths, the steady monitor pings. Her fingers still traced around his jaw, now with a desperate gentle-ness. Late into the night a faint groan broke from his lips. A twitch. “Rigo”
His eyelids fluttered against the bright hospital lights. His gaze shifted beneath them, trying to focus. He inhaled sharply, fighting the ventilator. His fingers curled weakly in her hand. He looked older, worn out. But the familiar dark gaze from beneath heavy, dark lashes slowly met hers - confused. His gaze flickered around the room, landing on the machines and wires.
“Shh, I've got you” she says, trying to keep him calm as she reaches for the ventilator. She worked with practiced ease, removing the tube gently and slowly. He gagged and coughed when the tube came out, his body curling forward. His hand shot to his abdomen and he groaned in pain. “Fuck” he rasped, voice raw from the tube. His eyes watered with pain but they stayed on her.
“Easy, don't move so much” y/n said softly, her thumb brushing against his cheek.
He leaned heavily into her touch, his eyes squeezing shut as a wave of agony rolled over his abdomen. His breathing was shallow and ragged. “Everything hurts” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper, sounding completely wrecked. The heart monitor spiked slightly as his pain increased. Y/n reached for the morphine pump, adjusting the drip to give him some relief. His eyes fluttered closed, his body relaxing slightly. He took deeper, slower breaths. When he opened his eyes again, they were clearer, less clouded with pain.
His gaze drifted over her face, taking in every detail. The dark circles under her eyes, the faint lines of exhaustion around her mouth. He reached up with his free hand, his fingers trembling as he gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. That broke her - relief hit her hard as tears flooded her eyes.
“Don't cry,” he whispered hoarsely, his thumb brushing a tear from her cheek. His voice was still rough, raw from the tube, but it was his voice. “I'm right here”
She couldn't stop the tears. They fell freely, dripping onto their joined hands. “I thought I lost you”
His expression softened, his gaze filled with warmth and tenderness. He squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I'm not that easy to get rid of” he murmured, attempting a weak smile. His stomach churned with pain, but he ignored it, focusing on her instead.
His hand dropped from her cheek to the edge of the bed, exhausted, fighting against the overwhelming urge to sleep. The morphine made him sleepy again, his gaze hazy and distant. He could hear voices coming. The hospital. He remembered things coming back to him in fragments. The explosion. Jack's face. Blood and smoke and noise.
“Just rest, I'll be here” y/n said softly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against his lips.
He turned his head slightly and his eyelashes fluttered closed before they forced them back open. “N-no, I need to say this Incase shit... Hit the fan again”
“I love you,” he whispered honestly, completely. “I love you with every broken piece of my heart, with every scar on my soul. I love you like I've been waiting my whole life for you” His voice cracked slightly as he said it, emotion thick in his throat.
Y/n choked on a sob, pressing her forehead against his, her tears mingling with his skin. “I love you too,” she whispered back fiercely. “More than anything. You’re not going anywhere, Rigo. I’m not letting you”
He smiled weakly, his eyes heavy. “Okay,” he breathed out, surrendering to exhaustion and pain medication. His hand stayed firmly gripped in hers as his breathing evened out, falling into a deep, medicated sleep. She watched his chest rise and fall, listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor. The rhythmic sound soothed her frayed nerves.
She didn't leave. She stayed glued to that chair, her hand never letting go of his. Minutes bled into hours. The ICU settled into a quiet rhythm, and for the time being, the beep of the monitor became her new heartbeat.
Hi 🤗 I hope you are doing well. I just wanted to say what an incredible writer you are! I am actually obsessed!!! So, I was wondering if I could request Alex Romero x younger female reader who is his wife? I'm thinking smut with a daddy kink? (If that's something you are comfortable with of course? I totally understand if not!) I also loved that part from one of your stories where Alex overheard men at his work talking about how he probably doesn't please the reader. Maybe his wife comes to his work to bring Alex lunch, and the men see his pretty wife and take an interest in her. Resulting in Alex being possessive and passionate so his wife knows exactly who she belongs to? Have a great day! 🫶
Sheriff's wife (Alex Romero)
Paring: Alex Romero x younger wife!Reader
Summary: it wasn't hard to deny - Sheriff Alex Romero had a beautiful wife. Everyone at his station knew it and some hide it better than others. One afternoon she stops by the station to drop off Alex's lunch and after a young baby faced deputy couldn't keep his eyes to himself, Alex reminds his wife who she belongs too.
Warnings: smut, sub/dom, office sex, desk sex, fingering, unprotected sex, unintentional orgasm denial, teasing, rough sex, daddy/sir kink, age gap couple, dirty talk, not edited.
MasterList ML2
(not my gif)
Alex Romero was buried in paperwork at his desk, sleeves rolled up, jaw tight in that familiar way that meant he’d been at it for hours without a break. A knock came from the outer office, but before he could answer, the door swung open anyway. Y/n - his wife stepped in with a paper bag hanging from her hand, still warm. The scent of food cut through the sterile smell of ink and coffee. Alex’s eyes lifted immediately and the tension in his face eased the moment he saw her.
“Hey, Honey” she closed the door behind her without hesitation. She wore a fitted floral sundress that swayed just above her knees with every step she made. Her hair was down around her shoulders, framing her face, making her look like she belonged anywhere other than White Pine Bay Sheriff's department. Several deputies would always look up when she'd come in to see Alex. Most smiled politely, knowing who she was. Then there were the few that would quietly nudge each other and stare as she walked past them. Alex noticed - he always noticed.
“Brought you something to eat” she said before sitting the bag down on the corner of his desk.
The bag emitted a heavenly aroma - something homemade, something that didn't come from the vending machine or the shitty diner down the street. Alex's mouth watered instantly, but his gaze hadn't left Y/n, eyes lingered on the curve of her hips in that dress. “Come here”
And she moved instantly, rounding the heavy oak desk without hesitation. The floral fabric of her sundress fluttered softly around her thighs. Alex hooked an arm around her waist the moment she was in reach, he pulled her in, siting her across his lap effortlessly. His hands settled naturally on her hips, thumbs brushing the bare skin where her dress had ridden up. He pressed a kiss to her neck, right below her ear. The position was casual but intimate - very not appropriate for his desk in the middle of the station.
Y/n's hand came up to cradle his jaw as his lips moved lower, his cologne engulfing her senses. “You should really eat something” she said just above a whisper, but didn't make any effort to disperse from him.
“Mmm,” he hummed against her neck, his hands tightening possessively on her hips. “Later. I think I'd rather eat you right now” He nipped at her collarbone, his voice dropping low and dangerous. “Lock the door, sweetheart. Unless you want half the department hearing you moan my name”
“Jesus, Alex” she shuddered under her breath.
He was already sliding a hand up her thigh, pushing that floral dress higher. “Door, Y/n. Now” The command in his voice left no room for argument, just pure, raw need. He'd been buried in paperwork for ten hours straight. His wife showing up looking like that was pushing him right to the edge. Everyone else could go to hell.
“yes, sir” She slipped into that submissive way as quickly as she slid off his lap. She left just long enough to twist the lock with a sharp click that echoed in the suddenly too-quiet office. When she turned back, Alex had pushed his chair back with deliberate, controlled movements.
“Better,” he growled, patting his thigh. “Now get your ass back over here”
The moment she was within reach, he yanked her back onto his lap, hands going straight to her ass. “You try to look innocent walking in here like that? With your tits almost falling out of this dress?”
Her breath hitched instantly, sinking right into that submissive headspace she defaulted to with him. “I was just bringing you lunch, Alex,” she defended softly, though her hands instinctively went to his chest. “and I thought you liked the dress?” He squeezed her ass hard, cutting off the argument.
“I love you in this dress” he said, voice rough as his mouth dropped to her throat. His hands slid under the hem, palms rough against her thighs. Outside, he could hear the muffled sounds of the station - phones ringing, deputies exchanging banter, coffee being brewed. The contrast made it hotter.
“Thank you, daddy”
His breath hitched sharply. He fucking loved it when she called him that. He bit down on her neck softly, marking her gently as his hands slid higher up her thighs. “Such a good girl, bringing your husband lunch...” He paused, fingers brushing the lace of her panties.
His fingers had found the edge of the lace, hooking into it deliberately slow. The sound of a deputy laughing outside the door made his jaw clench. He wanted to ruin her right here - on his desk, surrounded by files and crime scene photos. The thought made him harder against her. “You wore this for me?” He already knew the answer. She always dressed for him.
“Just for you”
“Good girl,” he groaned against her skin, his hand sliding firmly between her thighs. He pressed his thumb against her clit through the lace, rubbing a slow, devastating circle that made her hips jerk against his hand. “Only I get to see you like this. Only I get to touch what’s under this dress,” He nipped at her earlobe. “Hands behind my neck”
She complied without hesitation, arms sliding up to cradle the back of his head. He swallowed her moans, tongue plunging hers as his free hand slowly pushed the lace aside. The soft, wet heat of her skin met his fingertips - he'd already gotten what he wanted. His thumb dipped lower, dragging slowly. His fingers slid inside her without warning, swallowing her surprised gasp with his mouth. His fingers moved deliberately slow, spreading her open as he curled them up to hit that sweet spot inside her. He could feel the vibration of her moans against his lips, feel the way she squirmed on his lap.
“Quiet, baby,” he whispered against her mouth, adding another finger. “Don’t want anyone hearing how wet you are, do you?” He didn’t stop moving his fingers. He wanted her to come into his office with everyone outside - wanted her to be so desperate she couldn’t even make a sound.
She shook her head, burying her face into the crook of his neck as he continued to move his fingers inside her. He could feel her getting wetter, her pussy squeezing around his fingers as he picked up the pace. He knew she was trying to be quiet - trying not to make a sound.
“That’s my good girl” He murmured softly, his thumb finally moving to rub her clit in slow circles. He could feel her clenching around his fingers, her body fighting to stay silent as he finger fucked her steady and deep. “Come on my hand, sweetheart”
A muffled whimper escaped her lips as her body betrayed her. Her thighs trembled as she clamped tighter around his fingers. The pressure became overwhelming and just before her orgasm could hit there was a knock on the door.
“D-dammit. Why?” y/n whimper, lifting her face from Alex's neck.
“Romero, you got a sec?” A muffled male voice called from outside. Alex's fingers stilled but didn't withdraw - he could feel her pulsing around him, desperately close. His jaw ticked as he glanced toward the locked door. The audacity of the timing made his blood boil. “One second”
Y/n was panting quietly against his neck with him knuckles deep inside her. Her orgasm was right fucking there, stalled painfully. He could feel how close she was - could feel her getting even wetter as her arousal mixed with frustration. Damn, he wanted to ignore that knock.
He pulled his fingers out slowly, making sure to drag them through her folds one last time before he was completely free. The lack of friction made her groan pathetically into his neck. He pressed a quick, apologetic kiss to her forehead before reaching for a tissue from his desk drawer, cleaning his hands. “sit down”
Y/n immediately tugged her dress back down, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She quietly sat in the visitor's chair across from his desk and crossed her legs - sitting there as if she'd been there the whole time. Alex opened the door, looking every bit the stern, intimidating sheriff. His expression was neutral, betraying none of the heated passion that had just taken place behind closed doors. “What’s up?”
A young deputy, wide eyed and baby faced stood outside holding a thick case file and several forms. He couldn't have been more than twenty-four. “S-sorry, Sheriff. I just need your signature on these evidence transfer forms”
“Come in” Alex took the forms, flipping through them casually while the deputy nodded respectfully. The kid was cute - way too young for this job. Y/n remained sitting innocently in the visitor's chair. Her thighs were probably still trembling from that interrupted orgasm. Alex had made a mental note to finish what he started.
He wasn't the only one who noticed her either. The kid's eyes had found her and he was staring way too long. His cheeks turned bright red at just the sight of her thighs. Alex's jaw tightened, but to the young deputy's credit he did try very hard to keep his eyes on the paperwork.
“Anything else, Miller?” He knew the kid's name - new recruit, been here three months.
Y/n smiled politely at him and the poor kid almost folded right then and there. He forced his eyes back towards Alex's direction. “N-no, sir”
Alex signed the forms without looking up, but his jaw was tight. He could see Miller's Adam's apple bobbing as he tried desperately not to look at Y/n. The kid was practically sweating. Alex slid the papers back across the desk. “Get these to evidence. Then get back to patrol”
Miller nodded furiously, getting a whiff of her perfume as he grabbed the file off Alex's desk. He didn't waste any time and disappeared behind the door. The second the door clicked shut, Alex locked it. His eyes went straight to Y/n - she was still sitting there so perfectly innocent with her pink cheeks, legs crossed, sundress covering everything. But he knew what was underneath. He knew she was still impossibly wet. He could smell her perfume mixed with the scent of her arousal. He grabbed her hips, setting her on his desk.
“You were so close,” he murmured, hands sliding up her thighs to grip the hem of her dress. He tugged it up in one rough motion, exposing her completely. Her panties were soaked and completely ruined. “That kid almost saw everything,” He hooked a finger into the lace, tugging them down her thighs with force. “Bad girl”
“'m sorry” She whimpered, legs parting automatically as he pushed her back onto the desk - right on top of case files and evidence logs. Her thighs fell open, revealing just how thoroughly wrecked she was. He growled, pressing her legs apart wider.
“Fucking ruined,” he groaned, seeing how soaked and swollen she was. That interrupted orgasm had left her practically dripping. He dragged his thumb through her folds, collecting the wetness. “That poor kid would have died if he saw this” He slapped her pussy sharply - once, twice - making her hips jerk. “keep your legs open so I can finish what I started”
“A-Alex”
“Look at me” he demanded. He wanted to see her face - couldn't bear to have her face turned away while she was laid out on his desk and exposed to him. His thumb found her clit, rubbing a tight circle while his fingers slid back inside her, filling her. “my poor girl didn't get to finish”
“Gonna fix it” he promised, curling his fingers hard against that spot that made her toes curl and her back arching off the paperwork beneath her. Then his other hand pressed firmly into her lower belly, pinning her to the desk as he began to pump his wrist faster.
The wet, filthy sound of her arousal filled the room, making him grit his teeth. “Come for daddy, sweetheart. Make a mess on my desk”
She was already right there - that interrupted orgasm hadn't gone anywhere, just simmered beneath her skin. His thumb worked her clit with brutal efficiency, grinding and pressing while those fingers buried deep inside her. The sounds she made were filthy - wet, desperate whimpers that would have scandalized the whole department if anyone heard.
“Look at you,” He muttered, watching her spread out on his desk like an offering. “Perfect little wife, all wet and pretty for me. No wonder that kid was staring - you're fucking gorgeous” His thumb rolled her clit faster, feeling her clamp down around his fingers.
That praise was her undoing. Her eyes rolled back, thighs shaking violently as her orgasm crashed over her. She soaked his fingers and desk, absolutely wrecked, crying out his name while her pussy clamped down rhythmically. She came hard, making a wet mess of the paperwork and oak desk underneath her. Alex worked her through it ruthlessly. “Good girl. There she is”
“S-shit, Alex” y/n whimpered.
He chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers out slowly. They were coated in her arousal and desk mess. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean without breaking eye contact. “You taste so fucking good when you're worked up like this”
He leaned down, kissing her deeply - letting her taste herself on his tongue. Before she could catch her breath, his hands were on her hips again, flipping her over onto her stomach on the solid piece of oak.
Her cheek pressed against a case file - probably some murder investigation - while her ass was pushed up into the air. The position was degrading and exposed. The desk was a mess beneath her - soaked through. He could see the evidence of her orgasm dripping onto the oak. He gripped both her cheeks, spreading her apart. The sight made his cock ache.
“P-please... Fuck me, daddy” she shuddered.
“Jesus,” he groaned as electric shocks shot through him. Without hesitation, he unbuckled his belt, pushing his uniform pants and boxers down. His thick length sprang out, already leaking. “This what you wanted, babygirl?”
“Y-yes”
He aligned himself with her entrance, pressing against her wet folds. She was practically dripping around his head, but then he caught himself. A dark, controlling thought. “Not yet,” He yanked her back slightly, gripping both cheeks to maintain the position. His eyes were cold as he stared at the back of her head. “You haven’t earned that yet. You made that kid stare”
“I'm sorry,” y/n whimpered. “he kept staring”
“Mhm,” he murmured, sliding his length between her soaked folds instead of pushing inside. He used her wetness to slide his cock back and forth, teasing her entrance but not penetrating. “He was staring at what's mine” With each pass, the head of his cock rubbed against her clit.
“I'm yours,” she gasped, her hands gripping the ledge of desk so hard her little knuckles were white. “I belong to you”
“Damn right you do,” he growled, landing a sharp, stinging slap to her ass cheek that made her jerk against the desk. “Every inch of you belongs to me,” He continued to slide his cock through her soaked folds, the head catching on her entrance with every thrust but never pushing inside. “And nobody else gets to look at it”
“P-please!” she let out a sob as her pussy clenched around nothing and unable to take any more teasing.
That was all he needed. He slammed into her in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. She screamed - a raw, broken sound that echoed off the concrete walls. He didn't wait. Didn't give her a moment to adjust. His hips started moving immediately, pounding into her with punishing force from the very first stroke. “That's it”
He fucked her hard and mean, each thrust making the desk legs screech against the floor. The case files and evidence reports scattered everywhere, falling to the floor as his hips drove her across the desk's surface. He kept one hand pressed between her shoulder blades, pinning her down while the other gripped her hip hard enough to bruise.
The sounds were devastating - wet, filthy, the desk legs screeching like a soundtrack. His cock hit her cervix with every thrust, making her cry out in that raw, unashamed way. He wasn't gentle. He fucked her like he wanted to break her, to remind her who she belonged to.
“This pussy,” He punctuated each word with a brutal thrust. “Is. Mine” Each stroke was meant to mark his territory, to claim her completely. The desk creaked dangerously beneath them, evidence of his intense pace. “Nobody else's. Ever”
“Y-ours,” she sobbed, her voice coming out broken and strangled against the wood. Her knuckles were bone-white, gripping what remained of the evidence - a crime scene photo of a dead man probably smeared with her release now. She arched her spine - desperate - trying to take him deeper. “Only yours, Alex. Only yours”
He didn't slow down. If anything, he fucked harder, more punishing. Each thrust was meant to drive the ownership home. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the screeching desk, her pathetic whimpers - it all fueled him. He hit a spot deep inside that made her whole body convulse. “That's it” he growled as her face contorted.
“Right there! Oh god, right there!” She screamed as he nailed that spot over and over, the head of his cock dragging against it with every thrust. The desk was sliding now, moving across the floor with each powerful drive of his hips.
Her whole body shook and convulsed like she was being electrocuted every time he hit that spot. She was basically screaming incoherently now - like she was being murdered or worshipped or both. “I'm coming! Please let me come”
“Not yet” he growled, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back. He knew exactly what he was doing - keeping her on the edge of that orgasm until she was begging. His cock hit that spot again and again, drawing out her screams until they were hoarse.
She was sobbing, completely desperate. Her pussy was clamping hard around him - every time his cock hit that spot her whole body convulsed violently. He could see her thighs trembling - she was so close she could barely breathe. He didn't slow down. If anything, he found that spot and pounded it relentlessly - the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the screech of the desk filling the room. Every thrust hit that spot and her entire body jumped. She was on the edge.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he growled finally, slamming into that spot with ruthless precision. “Give it to daddy”
Her orgasm absolutely broke her. She screamed, practically seizing up, pussy locking down violently around him. Her entire body convulsed, soaking his cock and the desk papers underneath her. It was a filthy, ruined orgasm that had her crying his name.
He fucked her through every violent second of it, pounding into that spasming pussy while she seized beneath him. Her cries dissolved into broken, sobbing whimpers, completely wrecked. He didn't stop until her body went limp, trembling against the scattered paperwork. Only then did he still his hips, buried deep inside her when he felt his own orgasm hit.
He came with a low groan, filling her up as he held her hips down firmly against the desk. His cock pulsed inside her, releasing everything he had while she lay there shuddering and spent beneath him. The room was silent except for their heavy breathing and the occasional soft whimper escaping her lips. Once he finished coming, he slowly pulled out, making her whimper again at the sensitivity. His seed leaked out of her well-fucked pussy and down her thighs. He stood up straight, tucking his softened cock back into his pants without a word.
He looked down at her - hair messed, makeup smeared, dress hiked up to her waist with his cum leaking out of her. The desk was a disaster - papers everywhere, wet spots from her arousal and his release. “fuck, Alex”
She leaned against him with that glazed expression of someone who had just been utterly claimed. She looked down at the mess she'd made of everything. Y/n's forehead fell against his. “Sorry about the mess” she whispered.
“Shh,” he whispered back, one hand coming up to cup her cheek gently. His thumb brushed away a smear of makeup, his touch surprisingly tender after what just happened. “I don’t care about the mess”
His fingers cards through her messy hair, gripping the back of her head firmly but not painfully. He pulled her close, pressing his forehead against hers like she had done earlier. His voice was soft but intense when he spoke next. “I’ll clean up whatever mess you make”
Summary: while Rigo and y/n's relationship grows, Jack and him are at odds.
💙 MasterList ML2 💙 Part I part III
Station 19 was quieter than usual when y/n walked through the bay doors carrying a paper bag from the deli near Grey Sloan. Jack was still out on a call, giving her an opportunity to see Rigo without being caught. She'd texted Rigo that she was stopping by with lunch, and his response had come back almost immediately.
- 'Gear room.'
The room was empty, the door slightly ajar. Rigo stood by the bench, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for her. When she entered, he immediately pushed off the wall and closed the distance between them, pressing a quick but deep kiss to her lips before taking the bag from her hands.
“Took you long enough,” he teased, setting the bag down on the metal bench. His hands found her waist instantly, pulling her against him. “I’ve been starving”
He backed her up against the metal cubbie that had his turnout gear. The kiss deepened instantly from sweet to devouring. His hands slid down to grip her hips, anchoring her there as his tongue swept against hers. It was reckless - it was his work place, surrounded by people and frankly, he didn't give a damn. “Estás tan bueno” Rigo murmured against her mouth, kissing a trail along her jaw.
Her head tipped back automatically, surrendering to the attention. It was terrifying how addicted she’d become to him - how easily he unraveled her. He swallowed her soft whimper, grinding gently against her, reminding her exactly what he did to her in that storage closet weeks ago.
His teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below her ear, sending a violent shiver down her spine. Her hands betrayed her by tangling in his hair to hold him closer instead of pushing him away.
“¿Sabes cuántas ganas tengo de follarte duro ahora mismo?” he growled against her skin, one hand sliding down to squeeze her ass.
Y/n pulled away to catch her breath. Her forehead pressed against his as a casual smirk formed across her lips. “I have no idea what you're saying” she chuckled softly.
He laughed low in his throat, pressing his hips forward to let her feel exactly what she did to him. “I said...” he dropped his voice to a rough whisper against her lips. “I want to fuck you so hard right now”
He pulled back just enough to smirk down at her, dark eyes dancing with mischief. “Maybe I should teach you some spanish, cariña”
“maybe you should,” she grins, her fingers brushing against the scruff on his jaw. “You sound pretty sexy when you do that”
His smirk turned into a full-blown grin, showing off his white teeth. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss that stole her breath as his hand squeezed her ass.
Just then their moment was cut off suddenly. “Seriously?” Jack’s voice cut through the room like a slammed door.
They broke apart like teenagers caught by a parent, Rigo stepping back instantly but not releasing her waist. Jack stood in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. His eyes bounced between them - Rigo's rumpled shirt, Y/n's swollen lips, their flushed faces. In two large steps, Jack shoved Rigo away from his sister, making him stumble back. “I told you to stay away from her”
Rigo regained his footing, his jaw tightening as he stepped right back into Jack’s personal space. The playful demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by that terrifyingly calm intensity he usually reserved for a fire. “Back the hell up, Gibson”
“Oh, I get it,” Jack stepped between them again. “I fucked your wife, so now you're going after my sister... I get it”
Rigo's face turned red with anger, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He was taller than Jack, broader - a dangerous combination when he was pissed. “Fuck you, Gibson” he snarled, not backing down an inch. “If you think I'm sleeping with her as some kinda revenge you're fucking mistaken”
“both of you need to calm down” y/n said, trying to step in but both ignored her.
“You know what?” Jack pushed Rigo hard in the chest, making him stumble back. “You probably are. You're probably using her just to get back at me” He was shouting now, face red with anger.
Rigo's expression darkened dangerously. “She’s not some damn pawn in this game between us, asshole. I actually give a fuck about her”
“I said stop” she said. Her voice was harsher this time, tugging Jack away.
Jack and Rigo both froze, looking at her. For a second, it looked like Jack was going to say something else, but one look at his sister's face made him stop. He let out a harsh laugh instead. “You're kidding me, right? You're actually falling for this guy? After everything?”
The question hung in the air like smoke.
“yes” she said - no hesitation.
Jack stared at her like she'd grown two heads. Rigo stood completely still behind him, barely breathing as he waited for her brother's reaction. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Finally, Jack shook his head in disbelief. “You're dating?”
“for almost a month now” Rigo answered for her, stepping forward slightly. His voice was steady, calm - a stark contrast to the heated argument moments ago. He looked at Jack with a challenging gaze, daring him to say something else.
Jack's jaw clenched. He glanced between them - the way Rigo positioned himself closer to y/n, the possessive tilt of his head. The pieces were all there: Rigo's late nights at their house, how attentive he'd been at the station, the way his sister's eyes softened whenever the latino's name came up.
A bitter laugh escaped him. “A fucking month” he shot Rigo one last glare before walking past them.
Jack slammed the gear room door hard behind him, making the metal walls vibrate and y/n flinch. Silence instantly settled over the room. Rigo dropped his head with a heavy exhale, running a hand through his hair. Y/n immediately stepped into him, pressing her forehead against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her without hesitation, burying his face in her neck.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her skin, his breath warm on her neck. His arms tightened around her, anchoring her to him as the adrenaline from the fight started to fade into a dull ache. “I didn’t want you dragged into the middle of our shit”
“It's okay” she murmured.
He pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, his hand rubbing soothingly up and down her spine. He pulled back slightly to look down at her, his dark eyes searching hers. “You sure about this?”
Y/n looked him in the eyes and without hesitation said. “I still want to be with you”
Rigo’s expression melted instantly. The arrogant firefighter, the man who fought Jack without hesitation, disappeared completely. He pulled her into a devastatingly soft kiss, cradling her face in both hands like she was something fragile. This was a man completely gone for a woman he wasn't supposed to fall for.
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The bay doors rumbled shut behind Engine 19. It had been a brutal call - a warehouse fire with hours in heavy gear. Everyone was exhausted, sweaty, and running on fumes. To add to it the station was unusually quiet as everyone fell into the familiar rhythm of cleaning equipment and hanging turnout gear. Normally there'd be jokes - today there wasn't.
Jack and Rigo hadn't said more than the bare minimum to each other all shift - just enough to do their jobs without endangering themselves or the people around him. Of course everyone noticed, but no one commented. The tension between them was palpable, carrying the weight of a disastrous argument and an unresolved conflict. Rigo slammed his locker shut harder than he meant to. Across the room, Jack was stripping off his turnout coat.
The silence between them had become suffocating. Rigo had tried to stay out of it, he really had. He understood Jack was angry. Hell, he was angry, but he couldn't use the cheating wife card anymore - not when y/n made him happy enough to forget his anger.
For a week Rigo had been watching y/n stay at his place every night with red eyes because her own brother refused to speak to her. Was he just supposed to sit back and let it happen? it was hard to ignore.
Rigo finally broke the silence. “You gonna keep punishing her”
Jack froze mid-motion, dropping his helmet onto the bench. The rest of the Dean and Travis instantly pretended to be incredibly busy with their gear while Vic slowly backed out of the room, deciding staying in her turnout pants a little longer wouldn't be so bad.
Jack turned slowly, his jaw tight and eyes dangerous, but not gutful enough to look Rigo in the eyes. “I am not punishing anyone”
“Bullshit,” Rigo slammed his locker shut. “She hasn’t slept properly in a week because her brother won’t fucking look at her” The words hung in the air like smoke.
Jack continued putting away his gear. “it's none of your business”
“The hell it isn’t,” Rigo snapped, stepping around the bench to block Jack’s path. The exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours was fraying everyone's temper, but Rigo had been holding this back for a week. “I’m the one holding her while she cries at night because her own brother is icing her out”
Jack shoved past him, walking out of the locker room. “That's between me and her”
“fuck that,” Rigo shouted after him, causing the rest of the locker room to freeze completely. Jack stopped dead in the hallway, his back muscles going rigid under his tight t-shirt. He slowly turned around, his eyes lethal. “Because every night she goes home wondering what she did wrong”
Jack scoffed. “She knew what she was doing”
“She was falling for a man,” Rigo shot back, voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “Something you apparently forgot how to do when you were too busy sticking your dick in my wife” The words landed like a physical blow, and the rest of the crew collectively held their breath. Rigo never brought it up. Never. But he was done playing nice - he didn't get to pretend he's the only one who's ever been hurt.
Jack's face went from pale to a deep, ugly red in seconds. For a moment he looked like he was about to snap something - or someone. His hands were clenched at his sides. Then his jaw shifted. “Don't”
“Don’t what?” Rigo took a step forward, his voice low and controlled. “Don’t remind you that you fucked my wife? Or don’t remind you that your sister is fucking me”
Jack lunged, his fist cut through the air. Rigo reacted on instinct and he shifted just enough for the punch to miss. He grabbed Jack's shoulder, and redirected his momentum. Jack stumbled against the wall with a loud thud. Before he could recover, Rigo planted his forearm across Jack's upper chest and shoulder, pinning him without throwing a punch.
Jack strained against him. “Get off me”
“I could've hit you,” Rigo growled, not backing down as Jack glared at him. Rigo's chest heaved from exhaustion and rage, forearm pressing harder against Jack's shoulder. “but I didn't”
His forearm eased slightly, enough that it was clear he wasn't trying to hurt Jack - only stop the fight before it got worse. Jack's fists opened at his sides, something breaking in his expression. Not defeat - something uglier as he stopped struggling. “The only reason I'm not swinging back,” Rigo said quietly, “is because you're y/n's brother, so think about that before you come at me again”
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Bishop's voice cut through the bay. “That's enough”
The captain stepped between them and Rigo immediately lowered his arm and took two steps back. Jack stayed where he was, still glaring. Bishop looked from one firefighter to the other. “My office. Now”
Rigo nodded once, jaw tight. Jack shoved off the wall and followed, neither man looking at the other. The station stayed frozen until they both disappeared behind Bishop's office door. She shut the office door with a firm click. The station suddenly felt eerily quiet. Jack and Rigo sat stiffly in the chairs in front of Maya Bishop's desk. Rigo's jaw was clenched tight, arms folded across his chest as he listened to Jack's uneven breathing. Rigo didn't need to look at him to know that there was a hard ass expression on Jack's face.
Bishop looked between them. “One of you start talking”
Jack stayed silent, staring stubbornly at the wall beside Bishop’s head. Rigo glanced at him, then shifted his gaze to the Captain. Neither firefighter volunteered. Bishop’s eyes sharpened, darting from Jack to Rigo. “I need to know that you two can work together. I have discretion here. This doesn't have to go to Sullivan or Dixon”
The implication hung heavy in the air - their personal feud threatening their careers. Rigo understood. If Bishop went to Sullivan, they'd both be transferred. Maybe even suspended. He leaned back in his chair, jaw tight. Jack remained stubbornly silent, staring at the wall like it held the secrets to his infuriated existence.
Bishop sighed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the desk. “I don't care who started it. I care that two firefighters almost turned my station into a fight club,” Neither answered. “You two are supposed to trust each other inside a burning building”
The words struck a nerve - trust was everything in this job. Rigo swallowed hard, thinking about all the times he'd had Jack's back on calls, and Jack had had his. The irony was sickening. He could still feel Jack's fist missing him, the heat of his rage. Jack remained stubbornly silent, staring at the wall.
Bishop's expression hardened. “I need an answer. Can you two work together or not?” She looked between them, her gaze sharp and unyielding. Rigo felt the weight of her question, knowing that a wrong answer could mean the end of their careers at this station.
Rigo looked at her, then glanced at the silent jack. He knew the answer for himself - pride be damned, he couldn't afford to lose his job. He took a deep breath. “Yes, ma'am” He said gruffly.
“Yes,” Jack said, practically forcing himself to do so.
Bishop's expression didn't soften, but she nodded slowly. “Good. Because I'm not running this station like a damn daycare. You two sort your shit out, and you sort it out now,” She pointed at both of them and they nodded stiffly. “dismissed”
They both rose from the chairs in unison, neither looking at the other. Jack shoved past Rigo to get to the door first. Rigo clenched his fists but forced himself to walk out calmly. The moment they cleared Bishop's office, the crew pretended like nothing happened. But Rigo could feel every eye on them.
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The tones dropped through Station 19, cutting through the lingering tension that had settled over the house during the past week. 'Station 19, respond to reports of an aircraft explosion near Harbor Avenue. Multiple callers reporting fire and possible fuel leak'
Every firefighter moved at once. Turnout pants, suspenders, coats, air packs, helmets. The practiced routine took over, even for two men who still hadn't truly settled their differences. Jack climbed into the passenger side of the engine as Vic got behind the wheel and Rigo climbed into the back without looking at him.
No one spoke until the rig pulled out of the bay, sirens echoing through the Seattle streets.
Vic looked between the two of them. “You two better have your mess handled,” Neither answered.
She continued. “I'm serious - not gonna die today because you can't keep it in your turnouts”
They'd been warned by Bishop - if they messed up on calls, it was on them. An aircraft explosion meant massive scale, fuel leaks, potential casualties. Jack attempted damage control. “We're good - brothers. Right, Vasquez?”
Rigo kept his face neutral. “The city pays me. They say ride with you, I ride”
Rigo had no intention of abandoning a member of his team no matter how angry he was because that's what firefighters did. That's the oath he'd taken and whether Jack believed it or not, Rigo knew exactly what it would do to y/n if anything happened to her brother. She'd never forgive herself - and he'd never forgive himself if he didn't do everything he could.
The rig bounced through streets, sirens wailing. They approached the harbor - smoke rising from a downed aircraft near Harbor Avenue. The scene was chaos: fuel burning, people running, emergency services everywhere.
Bishop climbed out first, taking in the scene. “we have got to deal with this gasoline leak!” she ordered. “Set up a containment boom! Keep that gas out of the street!”
Everyone immediately split into assignments. Andy looked around. “Dispatch said aircraft explosion”
Bishop didn't look up. “Search and Rescue will handle the aircraft. We handle the pump”
Andy studied the wreckage uneasily. The scene had turned into a second disaster zone - two trucks fully engulfed, flame licking up metal sides, propane tanks popping like gunfire and black smoke twisted into the sky. “I don't think we know what we're dealing with”
Before anyone could respond a shower of sparks landed near the spreading fuel. Whoomph. Several small fires erupted at once, but quickly contained. The small explosions kept everyone on edge - each one a reminder that this wasn't a standard fire. This was volatile, unpredictable, and getting worse by the second.
Rigo and Jack were already circling the perimeter with extinguishers, moving fast and containing small fires that had broken out from scattered ignition points. Him and Jack worked in sync. They didn’t have to speak to understand each other or work like they've been wired to do - that made the tension worse. Jack jerked his head toward a burning pile of flames near a rolled car. “Contain that side!”
“I’m not blind, Gibson” Rigo clapped back as the extinguisher hissed as he sprayed foam onto the flames licking up the car's side.
“Then act like it” That snapped the silence - even the fire died at their feet with quite hiss.
Rigo straightened up, foam still dripping. He turned towards Jack. “You want to do this now?”
Jack didn’t hesitate. “We already did it at the station”
Rigo scoffed, turning back to the scene. The car was still burning - the foam was holding but not enough. “This isn't about her right now,” Rigo said sharply.
Jack snapped, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to be face to face. “everything is about her right now”
The fire crackled wildly around them, but the two men were locked in a standoff that had absolutely nothing to do with flames. Rigo slapped Jack's hand off his shoulder immediately, aggression matching aggression.
“Keep your voice down,” Rigo warned, his voice dangerously low as he stared at the man that was tethered to him only by one woman. “We are on a working scene. Drop it”
Across the street, Andy crouched near debris scattered near the food trucks. Something metallic and twisted - too clean-edged for wreckage. She frowned.
Elaine, one of the injured civilians sitting near triage, looked over. “What is that?”
“I don’t know,” Andy turned it in her hand. It wasn’t burned like the rest of the wreckage and it definitely wasn't from a truck. Or from a building - not even close. “Is there a tech campus nearby?” Andy asked sharply.
Elaine nodded weakly. “Yeah. Couple blocks. Some… aerospace startup people. They’re always talking about Mars stuff”
Andy’s blood ran cold. She lifted her radio again. “This isn’t from a plane,” Still nothing. “Jack, Vasquez, respond!”
Static.
The radio was just useless background noise to Rigo and Jack as their fight picked up faster than any fire around them. “Maybe stop making it about you” Rigo shot back.
Jack’s jaw ticked. “You don’t get to talk to me about her like you know her better than I do”
“maybe, but I get to learn about her everyday,” Rigo laughed bitterly, the sound harsh against the backdrop of the extinguisher hissing over open flames. “and like it or not were together”
Andy's voice cracked through the radio again. “Gibson, Vasquez!”
Jack stepped closer, voice rising.
“She’s my sister”
“And she’s my girlfriend!” Rigo snapped back, then immediately steadied his tone. “And right now she’s the one getting hurt the most by all of this”
Jack’s jaw flexed hard and before he could respond Andy’s voice crackled over the radio again, frantic.“Jack. Rigo. I need you both to respond. Now”
“we're fine, Herrera,” Jack finally responded. “we don't need a babysitter”
Jack had heard the urgency in Andy's voice, and Rigo was already moving before she could've corrected him. His jaw clenched at the delay.
Andy moved through the scene quickly, scanning debris, when she saw it. Another fragment -larger this time. Not metal, but aircraft-grade aluminum. She quickly rushed towards Rigo and Jack's direction. “Jack, it's not an airplane. It's a rocket! We need Hazmat”
Rigo saw it first. A pressurized leak venting from a ruptured cylindrical tank - gas hissing out in an unstable plume, igniting intermittently where it met open flame. His instincts took over and he grabbed an extinguisher and moved in.
Jack saw him break off instantly. “Rigo stop- !”
The explosion was not cinematic. It was violent, immediate, and consuming. A shockwave tore across the concrete. Rigo was thrown backward like he weighed nothing, slamming onto his back hard enough to crack the pavement sound in the air. Fire rolled outward and then snapped back into control lines. The world briefly became silent and hot.
Jack was already moving. “Rigo!”
He dropped to his knees immediately. Rigo was conscious - barely. Blood was already pooling fast, dark and too much, soaking into his turnout gear. A deep abdominal injury - too deep. Jack’s hands went to pressure instantly. “Just breathe, okay?”
Jack put pressure on the injury the best way he could. He quickly whipped his head towards the others. “Warren! Get Warren!”
Rigo's breaths came fast and shallow. He felt the pressure on his abdomen, saw Jack's face above him - terrified, white. Not angry anymore. Nothing between them mattered now.
“God, getting the knife-Mobil?” Rigo coughed, blood flecking his lips. “It's that bad, huh?”
“You're alright, you're gonna be okay. Just -” Blood was already pooling fast, dark and too much, soaking into his turnout gear. “just don't move”
“Don't fucking lie to me,” Rigo gasped weakly, and he was. His breaths were getting harder and harder to take, the pain spreading out through his torso like a wildfire. His hands gripped his stomach involuntarily, pressing against the injury like he could keep it inside. “How bad?”
Jack's breath hitched. His jaw ticked as his eyes flicked back to Rigo's. “it's bad”
Rigo's head fell back against the concrete, a low groan escaping him. His vision was tunneling at the edges, the scene around him dimming into a blur of smoke and flashing lights.
He reached up, fumbled weakly for Jack's arm. “I haven't told her I love her,” his voice cracked, fading. “Tell her -”
“You're gonna be fine,” Jack cut him off firmly. “And your gonna tell her yourself”
Rigo's lips moved, forming words that barely had sound. “I'll never apologize for loving her - not to you or anyone”
Jack's hands stayed firmly pressed, trying to stop the bleeding, but he knew. He knew. The blood was too much, too fast. His sister's boyfriend was dying in his arms because of a stupid fight that didn't matter. None of it mattered.
Hi, are you going to be making any more Daniel Larusso smuts? 🥺
I'm sorry, but as of right now I'm not. I'm not writing for cobra Kai or karate Kid right now unfortunately. On the top of my pinned post shows the specific fandoms I'm writing for currently - I only do a few at a time sometimes. I'm really sorry to disappoint, but thank you for asking.
Apparently firefighters are my thing now. I also went back to my grey's roots and finally got myself to watch station 19 - I'm only on season 4 think? I should have seen it coming - especially since it's a part of the Grey's anatomy universe, but all three men that I had hyper fixation for have died... Pretty much back to back I might add.
In saying that... I feel like I should write for these three + the others. They are all very under rated and I don't see any fics for any of them.
Requests are open for: Rigo Vasquez, Lucas Ripley, Ryan Tanner, Robert Sullivan, Dean Miller, and Ben Warren
Summary: Jack Gibson fucked Rigo's wife, so Rigo fucks Jack's sister, but with y/n and Rigo it actually means something. Alternate universe where Rigo and his wife are separated during the time him and the reader sleep together - because my man isn't a cheater like his wife🙂↕️
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, infidelity, public sex, injuries, praise? Nicknames like cariña, closet sex sorta?
💙MasterList ML2 💙 part II
The first thing Rigo noticed about y/n Gibson was that she smiled at everyone. Not the polite kind of smile people put on because they had to - a real one. The kind that reached her eyes and gave her cheeks a beautiful rosey tent. Unfortunately for Rigo, she smiled at him a lot - which was a problem.
For a very long time, he had been married. No matter how complicated things got with Eva, no matter how many fights they had, no matter how many times she pushed boundaries just to get a reaction out of him, Rigo had never been the kind of man who cheated. Eva did enough cheating for the both of them. Still, he wasn't blind. Y/n was beautiful. And somehow completely different from the man who his wife was cheating on him with - who just happened to be her brother. Jack Gibson. He had a talent for creating chaos for himself and others while she'd had to go in and somehow fix it.
Looking back, he wasn't sure when he started looking forward to seeing her. Every time she walked into the station with that damn smile, his annoying little buzz revved up in his chest. At first, it was just a flicker of amusement. He'd watch her effortlessly charm the entire fire station, felt his chest tighten when she laughed at something he said, and then he started catching himself thinking about her at the worst times.
It started somewhere between her third? Fourth visit? And then by the fifth time she had called him out on his bullshit in that sharp, playful way of hers, and that flicker became a steady burn - that burn turned to a fire not even the bravest firefighter could put out.
He was dangerously screwed. Rigo was a man who had handled explosions, collapsing structures, and high-level rescues without breaking a sweat. But y/n - with her soft laugh, her sharp tongue, and a smile that could dismantle his entire moral compass was an emergency he hadn't been trained for. And it wasn't just physical attraction, though god knows she was gorgeous.
y/n Gibson - the sister of his wife's lover, the antithesis of everything his life had become - with anything resembling longing. But logic was shit against the way she looked at him.
Then the separation hit and the divorce went pen to paper after spending years navigating Eva’s particular brand of insanity. He signed them without hesitation - but that didn't mean that there wasn't an ache in his chest and a shake in his hand as the pen scribbled across the paper. Eva didn't sign them just despite him, proving she still knew how to taunt him. But suddenly, his mind drifted to y/n.
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The call itself wasn't serious. A vehicle collision, some debris, and a few firefighters getting knocked around - nothing life-threatening. Unfortunately It was enough to earn a mandatory trip to Grey Sloan Memorial. Rigo ended up getting introduced to a piece of asphalt face first. Which was how he found himself sitting in the ER with a cut on his cheek and enough road rash along his ribs to make putting on a shirt unpleasant. And just his dumb luck, y/n - Dr. Gibson was the assigned doctor.
Of all the doctors in the massive, sprawling hospital, it had to be her. It felt like a cosmic joke - the universe deciding that since his marriage had officially imploded, he needed to be tortured by the one woman who had been haunting his thoughts for months.
“Alright, tough guy,” y/n murmured, snapping on fresh gloves with that effortless, soothing professionalism that made the entire ER fall silent for her. “Let's see what we're working with”
She stepped between his knees, entirely too close, smelling like peonies and antiseptic. Rigo went instantly rigid, his breath catching in his throat. It wasn't just the proximity. She stepped closer, her fingers rested lightly against his jaw as she examined the injury. The cut along his cheekbone wasn't deep, but it would definitely need stitches.
Her gloved fingers were cool against his skin, but they still managed to burn right through him. He could smell that soft peony scent mixed with hospital soap, and his traitorous body decided that now was a perfect time to remember every single fantasy he'd had about her. Every stolen glance, every suppressed thought, every time he'd imagined what those fingers would feel like on bare skin.
Then antiseptic. The sting was sharp and immediate, making him hiss through his teeth. Her hand steadied against his jaw, her thumb brushing just below his ear in an unconscious gesture of comfort.
“Easy” y/n murmured, barely looking up from his face, her focus absolute as she cleaned the wound with practiced, gentle movements and for some reason her voice made him feel better. God, he was pathetic. Pathetic and addicted.
“It's nothing” he said, his voice rougher than intended. His eyes tracked her face instead of watching her work - the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the curve of her lips, the way her hair fell just barely out of her messy bun.
His hands gripped the side of the exam table. She looked up then, meeting his gaze directly for the first time. She cleared her throat, breaking that contact. “You're gonna need a few stitches, so it's something”
He huffed out a laugh that was mostly air, the tension in his shoulders finally dropping an inch. She was calling him out. Again. That sharp, playful intelligence that managed to cut through his self-imposed stoicism like a hot knife through butter. “A few stitches,” he echoed, his voice dropping lower. “Barely qualifies as an injury, Doc”
Y/n raised an eyebrow at him as she reached for the sterile suture kit. “Yet you're sitting here gripping the exam table like I'm about to amputate your leg” She tore the packet open with her teeth, her gaze flicking down to his white-knuckled hands.
His eyes followed the movement, watching her full lips wrap around those teeth, his mind immediately jumping to inappropriate conclusions. He forced himself to unclench his jaw and his hands, spreading his palms deliberately on the table instead. “I'm not afraid of a little needle, Doc”
“then stay still. I’d hate to give you a jagged scar on that pretty face of yours”
His breath hitched as she leaned in, close enough that he could feel her breath on his skin as the needle pushed into his flesh. His hands clenched into fists again, but he managed to hold still for her - because fuck, if she thought his face was handsome, he'd sit through a dozen stitches without complaint.
He felt his gaze drag down to her lips again, his mind filling with all sorts of filthy things she could do with that mouth. He cleared his throat. “Jagged...” he smirked, trying to keep his voice steady, but the way her tongue darted out to wet her lip while she concentrated was absolutely destroying him. “Jagged is kinda sexy though, right?”
“told you not to move” y/n said instead, taking his between her fingers and thumb and turning his head herself.
He couldn't help it - his eyes fluttered shut as she touched him, her fingers warm and firm against his skin. He felt her breath on his cheek, smelled that peony scent again, and he was suddenly acutely aware of how close their faces were. His voice came out softer, almost vulnerable. “I'm not moving” he promised.
He watched her tie off the last stitch with surgical precision, her fingers dancing over his skin. The pain was barely a background noise compared to the electric current humming between them. The way she moved was hypnotic - each motion economical and graceful, her focus absolute, yet her touch remained surprisingly gentle. When she finally finished, she dabbed the area with more antiseptic, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone in a gesture that felt far too intimate for a doctor-patient interaction.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” y/n asked softly, finally meeting his eyes again.
She made his heart pound in chest in ways Eva never could. The air between them suddenly thick with tension. He couldn't look away from her - those warm eyes, the soft curve of her lips, the way those loose strands of hair fell around her face. He felt like a man starved, drinking her in like she was the only source of water for miles.
“Cause you're gorgeous” his voice low and rough as a smirk formed. His hand came up almost unconsciously, his thumb brushing against her knuckles where she was still holding his chin. Their faces were inches apart now, breaths mingling. The rest of the world fell away - the beeping of machines, the murmurs of nurses, none of it mattered.
Y/n broke first, pulling away as she cleared her throat. “Flattery won't get you anywhere, Vasquez” she says, throwing her gloves in the trash.
“Never stopped me before” he shrugged, watching her strip off the gloves with devastating efficiency. He knew that look - that professional boundary slamming back into place. But he also saw the flush in her cheeks, the way she couldn't quite hold his eye contact.
He slid off the exam table, testing the range of motion in his jaw before grabbing his shirt from the nearby chair. He didn't put it on yet, the banged up road rash on his ribs stinging too much, leaving his chest bare. He leaned back against the table, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes locked on hers with that infuriatingly confident smirk. “Does it work?”
“Wouldn't you like to know” she said almost daringly as she stared into his chocolate brown eyes.
Just as he opened his mouth the privacy curtain was yanked back. Jack stood there, hair tousled and wearing his turnout pants and a bandage around his left hand. He had practically run out of April Kepner's care like his ass was on fire when he found out who his sister's Patient was.
Rigo recognized that look instantly. Jack looked entirely too murderous - not to mention hypocritical. Rigo didn't flinch, keeping his arms crossed over his battered chest, completely shirtless. “Jack”
Jack ignored him completely, stepping straight through the curtain and locking eyes on his sister. “what's going on?”
Y/n raised an eyebrow. “nothing, what's going on with you?”
Jack's gaze flicked between them, taking in Rigo's bare torso and the intimate positioning - Rigo leaned back casually against the exam table while Y/n stood close, gloves off, looking flushed and rumpled. Jack's jaw tick as he wore that kicked puppy look he was nothing less of a master putting on. “nothing”
“Then can I get back to doing my job so you guys can get back to doing yours?” she asked, grabbing the clipboard next to him. She signed Rigo's discharge papers.
She handed Rigo the paperwork and some fresh bandages. “make sure you clean change the bandage”
He accepted the papers, his smirk shifting into something softer as he looked at her. “Yes, ma’am” he smirked.
Rigo could feel Jack’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his head, practically vibrating with protective brotherly energy. That just made his shit eating grin grow right back, his attention fixed entirely on her as he slipped his fire department shirt back on. “Thanks, Doc”
She nodded, smiling. “any time”
Y/n turned to leave, squeezing her brother's shoulder as she passed by. “Love you” she told him and he quickly mumbled 'love you too'.
Rigo went to leave in the same direction and Jack blocked his way, sizing him up. He stared daggers into him. “Stay away from my sister”
Rigo chuckled darkly, not backing down from Jack's intimidation tactics. He stood his ground, his voice low and challenging. “like you stayed away from my wife?” He stepped closer, intentionally invading Jack's personal space.
Jack's nostrils flared, his hands balling into fists at his sides. For a second, Rigo thought he might actually hit him - but then Jack's expression crumpled, guilt and shame written all over his face. He stepped back, looking away as he walked past Rigo with his tail tucked.
Rigo watched him go, a twisted mix of satisfaction and hollow victory settling in his chest. He’d won the round, easily dismantling Jack with the truth, but it tasted like ash. The younger firefighter looked absolutely gutted, shoulders slumped as he disappeared through the curtains. Rigo's jaw ticked as he exited the ER.
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Rigo was leaning heavily against the brick wall outside the bar, definitely past tipsy and definitely not caring how dark it was that night. His fire department shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing the fine lines of his chest. His posture was sloppy, but he looked unfairly gorgeous - chocolate eyes glassy, hair messy, expression somewhere between drunk and miserable.
When he spotted her stepping out, the corner of his lips curled up. “What's up, Doc?”
Y/n sighed. “Rigo”
He was unsteady on his feet, but managed to push off from the wall and stumble over to her. She caught him by his biceps, trying to hold his large frame up. “Easy, tiger” she said, noticing the strong scent of whiskey on his breath.
He leaned heavily into her, his entire weight practically collapsing against her smaller frame. He buried his face in her neck, breathing her in like she was the only thing grounding him to the planet. The sharp, clean scent of her hair cut through the whiskey fogging his brain. “You smell good” he slurred, his arms wrapping loosely around her waist to keep himself upright.
“Alright,” she said, pulling him away and keeping him at arms length. “How much have you had to drink?”
His eyes were unfocused, pupils blown wide. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Lost count” He grinned, lopsided and boyish despite everything. He swayed dangerously, and she had to grab his forearm to keep him from toppling over.
“okay, you're not driving”
He let out a drunken laugh, running a hand through his already messy hair. He looked at her, his eyes glazing over even more. “You gonna take me home with you, Doc?” He stepped closer again, his voice dropping to a low murmur.
Y/n snorted, shaking her head. “Yeah, you wish”
He leaned in closer, invading her space with a drunk confidence, bracing one hand against the brick wall beside her head. “I don’t wish,” he slurred, grinning down at her. “I know”
He swayed, his nose almost brushing hers. “Take me home. Pretty please,” He batted his eyelashes ridiculously. “Be a good doctor”
She pulled back, the heat of his breath brushed against her cheeks. “I don't do house calls”
He pouted, actually sticking his bottom lip out in a way that was downright pathetic. “That’s malpractice,” he grumbled, swaying so heavily he nearly tipped over.
Then a set of headlights pulled up to the curb. Y/n had ordered an Uber a few minutes ago. Jack took her to work that morning and Joe's was just across the street. It was perfect timing really. She pointed toward the vehicle, leading Rigo with her. “Good. Problem solved”
She yanked the door to the back seat open “Get in the car”
He laughed, the sound sloppy and loud as he stumbled back the exact opposite of the way she wanted. “No”
“You're drunk” she gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. When he protested again y/n sighed and patted around his pants then reached into his front pockets, making his hips twitch when she got dangerously close to his junk.
He let out a low whistle, eyes widening with interest even in his drunken state. “waoh, buy me dinner first”
She pulled out his wallet and keys, ignoring his stupid drunken grin. She tossed his belongings through the car window on the passenger side. “His address is on the ID, get him home in one piece will ya?” she told the driver.
The Uber driver nodded, watching as Y/n gently but firmly shoved the firefighter towards the open door. Rigo stumbled into the car, his head lolling against the seat as he watched her through bleary eyes. The driver pulled away from the curb, and Rigo muttered something incoherent under his breath before falling back against the seat with a heavy thud.
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Two weeks later Rigo found himself back at Grey-Sloan. He was seated on the exam bed, shirt stripped down to his turnout pants, looking unfairly gorgeous even with a bloody gash across his forehead. The smoke inhalation had his throat raspy, making him lean back with exhausted resignation. Then the curtain whipped back, revealing Y/n looking breathtaking in scrubs, clipboard in hand. She froze the second she saw him. “we really gotta stop meeting like this”
He offered a low, raspy chuckle that immediately turned into a wet cough, his chest heaving slightly with the effort of expelling the smoke from his lungs. He leaned back on one hand, the other wiping at the drying blood near his eyebrow. His chocolate eyes locked onto hers, exhausted but warm. “What can I say, Doc” His voice was gravelly.
“You know... There are other ways to get my attention” She stepped fully inside, letting the curtain snap shut behind her to give them privacy. She moved efficiently, pulling on a pair of gloves and reaching for his chin to tilt his head up toward the light.
He let her tilt his head, his eyes fluttering closed briefly before snapping open again to meet hers. His strong jaw clenched under her touch, and he inhaled deeply through his nose, catching her scent. A faint smirk played at the corners of his mouth. “So you're saying there's a chance?” he smirked, his voice low and raspy.
His gaze dropped to her lips for a brief moment before snapping back up to her eyes. He held perfectly still under her touch, even as his pupils dilated slightly with interest. The air between them grew thick with unspoken tension.
Y/n rolled her eyes playfully as she cleaned the wound with an antiseptic, making him hiss when the liquid stung his cut. His eyes tracked every movement - the way her hair was pulled back, the slight crease between her brows in concentration, the way her lips parted just slightly when she focused. His jaw clenched tight when the sting hit, but he didn't pull away. He was mesmerizingly focused on her, his gaze tracing the slope of her nose and the flutter of her lashes.
The silence settled between them was broken when Rigo cleared his throat softly. “I never thanked you”
She was caught off guard momentarily “for what?”
“for getting me home that night” his voice was low, sincere. He reached up, gently catching her wrist with his large hand when she fished up the bandage. His thumb brushed over her pulse point, his touch light but deliberate as his eyes searched hers.
She felt her pulse jump under his thumb, her breath catching at the unexpected contact. “That's just... What I do” she replied quietly, trying to sound professional but her voice came out softer than intended.
She didn't pull away, letting him hold her wrist as he searched her eyes. The tension in the small room thickened, crackling with everything they'd left unsaid. “You didn't have to,” he rasped, his gaze dropping to her lips again before forcing its way back up to her eyes. “You could’ve left me on the sidewalk, Doc”
The thought hit her like a physical blow just by him thanking her for basic human decency when he deserved the world. She looked at him - sitting there vulnerable, bloodied, and still looking at her with those soulful, intense chocolate eyes - she couldn't comprehend how anyone could throw this away. How Eva could look at a man this loyal, this devastatingly handsome, this genuinely good, and choose to shatter him.
“I wouldn't have left you there” - that seemed to have multiple meanings now.
He moved before either could react and his lips captured hers. It wasn't gentle or tentative - it was desperate, immediate, and overwhelmingly needy. His large hand slid up her to cradle her jaw, threading his fingers into her hair. He kissed her like a starving man, pouring weeks of heartbreak, loneliness, and sudden overwhelming adoration into the movement. He tasted like smoke and mint gum.
Y/n didn't pull away, her hands instinctively found purchase on his shoulders. She kissed him back with equal ferocity, as one of her hands slid into the hair at the nape of his neck to hold him there. The smell of smoke mingled with the sterile scent of the hospital, creating a dizzying contrast.
Unfortunately reality had to hit. She pulled back, breaking the kiss to rest her forehead against his. “Not here” she whispered.
He let out a shaky breath, his fingers flexing gently in her hair before sliding down to rest on the back of her neck. He pressed a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth before nodding in understanding. His pupils were blown wide, his chest heaving slightly as he tried to catch his breath.
They stared at each other, chests rising and falling rapidly, lips swollen from the kiss. The curtain could've been paper thin for all they cared - the world shrank to just this moment, just their faces inches apart. Rigo looked wrecked but happier than she'd ever seen him.
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The evening shift at Station 19 was quieter than usual. Most of the crew lingered in the common area when y/n had stopped by. She came through the bay doors carrying a black firefighter helmet tucked against her hip. She had found it sitting on a counter in the ER after Rigo had left that afternoon. His name was written in bold letters across the back.
VASQUEZ.
Ben spotted her first and a grin spread across his face immediately. “Well, look who it is”
Y/n narrowed her eyes. “Don't start”
Ben held up his hands in surrender, though that grin didn’t waver an inch. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, crossing his ankles. “I’m not saying a word. He's in the gear room”
She thanked him and headed down the hallway, ignoring the knowing look Vic sent her over the back of the couch. Maya Bishop didn't have any room to talk - she too had fallen for one of the many pretty faces of Grey-Sloan memorial. She smirked into her coffee cup anyway. She still thought Rigo was an ass though. Station 19 had become very invested in y/n's personal life apparently.
She paused outside the gear room door and knocked lightly against the frame.
“Come in,” The voice was instantly recognizable - low, warm, and unmistakably Rigo. Inside, he was stripped down to his black station t-shirt and uniform pants, folding a turnout coat onto the rack. He looked unfairly gorgeous, shoulders broad and muscles shifting effortlessly. When he turned and saw her, his expression softened instantly. “Hey”
Y/n lifted the helmet. “You left this in my ER”
His eyes dropped immediately to the black helmet in her hands, recognizing his name printed boldly across the back. A slow, genuine smile broke across his face - that devastatingly handsome expression that made knees weak.
“Guess I did” he muttered affectionately, stepping forward and taking it from her. His fingers brushed hers deliberately.
He tapped his own helmet lightly, tucking it under his arm. The motion brought him intimately close, his broad frame boxing her in against the doorframe. “Pretty important thing to forget... Can't have you hurt again”
“Yeah well, I was distracted” he replied softly, leaning closer so only she could hear. His free hand came to rest against the wall beside her head, not trapping her but definitely creating intimacy. His eyes flicked down to her mouth briefly before coming back up to her eyes.
Her eye brow arched, daring him. “Oh yeah? What's got you all distracted?”
“You” he answered honestly, his voice low and husky. His eyes never left hers as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her lips. “You've been fucking with my head for months” His thumb traced her jawline gently.
Her breath hitched as her eye lashes fluttered against her rosy cheeks. “why don't you do something about it?”
The challenge was all he needed. His lips crashed onto hers, hungry and demanding, stealing the air from her lungs instantly. He dropped the helmet on the nearby bench with a loud clatter, his hand immediately gripping her waist to pull her flush against him. He kissed her like he was starving, backing her gently against the metal cubicle that held his gear. The metal clattered behind him as he poured weeks of unspoken tension into the moment.
He hoisted her effortlessly onto the edge of the metal shelf, stepping firmly between her knees to pin her in place. His large hand splayed against her lower back, pressing her flush against his hard chest while the other tangled deep into her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. He swallowed her soft gasp, tasting her with a desperate, consuming heat that made her head spin.
“Wait,” Y/n pulled away with her fits curled into his shirt, catching her breath. “Lock the door” she whispered.
The command had his blood rushing south. He didn't hesitate. One long stride took him to the door where he twisted the lock with a decisive click that echoed in the small room. When he turned back, his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust and something deeper - relief, maybe adoration. He stalked back to her, slow and deliberate like a predator claiming its prize.
He didn't give her a moment to recover. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her to the very edge of the shelf until she was perfectly aligned with him. The heat radiating between them was suffocating in the best way possible. He leaned down, capturing her lips again, slower this time but infinitely deeper, savoring the taste of her.
“I’m obsessed with you” y/n shuddered, kissing and nipping down his jaw and hollow of his throat, making his head tipped back instantly. A guttural groan tearing from his throat as her teeth scraped against the sensitive skin of his neck.
His fingers dug into her hips, anchoring her to him while his eyes slid shut in pure ecstasy. The feeling of her mouth on him was addictive, sending electric currents down his spine. “You’re gonna kill me, cariña” he rasped, his voice vibrating against her lips.
Her hands slid under his t-shirt, her palms flat against the heated skin of his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles contracted under her touch. She kissed a burning trail down his chest, her fingers catching the hem of his shirt. He lifted his arms obligingly, letting her pull it off and drop it carelessly to the floor.
She's seen him before, but this time - this situation hit her like a physical blow. Rugged, broad, and absolutely devastating. Sculpted muscle defined his chest, shoulders, and abdomen, old firefighting scars mapping a history of heroics over his tanned skin. His dark hair was perfectly messy, eyes locked on her with pure, worshipful desperation. He watched her with bated breath as she explored his body, her touch gentle yet firm. When she leaned down to press a kiss to the center of his chest, right over his heart, he thought he might actually die from the tenderness of it.
His hand gripped the back of her neck, pulling her mouth back to his. “Come here”
He kissed her deeply, his body pressing against hers as he tried to convey everything he was feeling - desire, adoration, relief, possession. His hands roamed her body possessively, pulling her flush against him so she could feel exactly what she did to him. This wasn't just lust. This was everything. “Too many clothes”
He wasted no time. His large hands found the hem of her scrub shirt, dragging it upward and over her head in one smooth motion, letting it join his on the floor. The cool air of the gear room hit her skin, but was instantly replaced by the scorching heat of his palms as he mapped out her waist, ribs, and back.
“You’re gorgeous”
He dipped his head immediately, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone and down the swell of her chest, worshipping every inch of exposed skin. His hands were everywhere, spanning her waist, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, tracing the curve of her spine like he was memorizing a map. He looked at her like she was the only thing that existed in his universe.
Her fingers curled into his hair, her back arching off the metal cubical. “Rigo, I need you” she said desperately, tugging his belt open. He growled, his hands immediately moving to help her. His belt clanked as he shoved his pants down just enough to free himself.
Y/n's broken pleas destroyed him. He caught her mouth in a devastating kiss, swallowing her needy sounds. His large hands hooked into the waistband of her scrub pants and underwear, stripping them down her legs in one fluid motion.
His hands curled under her thighs, lifting her up on his hips. Her legs locked around him instantly, pulling him flush against her - naked skin against naked skin. “I've got you, cariña”
One hand gripped her hip while the other guided himself to where she was aching for him. He pushed inside slowly, inch by torturous inch, watching her face the whole time. Her head fell back, broken moans escaping their lips in perfect sync as he stretched her open. He leaned in, kissing down her throat, groaning against her skin.
“fuck, you feel so good” y/n whined breathlessly, her nails digging into his back as she adjusted to his size.
He paused, giving her a moment to adjust, his forehead resting heavily against hers while he fought to maintain control. “Breathe, cariña” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her sweating temple. His hips rolled forward slowly, sinking deeper until he was fully sheathed.
“R-rigo” she shuddered, biting her lip before he could draw a shattered cry from her throat.
That unraveled whatever restraint he had left. He pulled back and thrust forward in one brutal stroke, claiming her completely. A broken moan tore from her throat as her back arched against the cold metal shelves, knocking something over behind them. He didn't care. Nothing else existed but her.
“Hold onto me”
He hooked one arm under her knee, anchoring her legs higher around his waist, and began to move with a deep, urgent rhythm. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, broken moans, and the occasional clanking of gear from the shelves behind them. Her head fell back against the metal shelf, mouth falling open in silent ecstasy as he hit that perfect spot inside her over and over again. His grip on her thigh was bruising, holding her open while he drove into her with relentless precision.
“Right there, don't s-stop” she whined.
He could die happy hearing her broken pleas. “Never” he growled through clenched teeth, his pace increasing. The metal shelf rattled violently behind her with each thrust. Damp strands of hair falling over his forehead as he watched her breasts bounce with each snap of his hips.
“Cariña, look at me” His voice was rough, almost desperate. She forced her eyes open, locking onto his - his pupils black, breathing ragged, lips parted. The intensity of it sent shivers down her spine. “Look at me when you come”
Her walls clenched around him at his words, and he groaned like it physically hurt. He hitched her leg higher, changing the angle and hitting that spot deep inside her that made her eyes roll back. His thrusts became erratic, chasing his own release as he watched her fall apart. “Come for me. Now!”
The command snapped something tight inside her. Her body bowed off the shelf, a shattered scream tearing from her throat as the pleasure crested and broke, drowning her completely. Her walls clenched around him like a vice, triggering his own undoing. Then with a guttural roar of her name, he buried himself to the hilt and let go, pulsing hot and deep inside her.
He collapsed forward, catching himself on the shelf above her head to keep his weight off her. Their chests heaved in sync, sweat mixing between their bodies. His forehead rested against hers as they both came down from the high. He kissed her softly, gently this time - a stark contrast to their brutal moments before.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, taking in her flushed cheeks, bitten lip, and the satisfied haze in her eyes. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. His softening cock slid out of her, followed by a rush of their combined release. He brushed the messy hair off her forehead with infinite tenderness, pressing slow, worshipful kisses against her temple, nose, and mouth. This wasn't just sex; this was devotion. “I’ve got you,” he whispered softly, reaching for his shirt off the floor to clean her up with incredibly gentle hands, treating her like something precious. “You okay, cariña?”
“y-yeah,” y/n said, her heart rate still deciding rather or not is gonna settle. “I feel amazing” she reached for him, her fingers brushing up against the scruff of his jaw before settling against his cheek. He turned into her touch like a cat, his eyes fluttering closed at the simplicity of it. He was still hard for her - not physically now, but emotionally. Completely undone. He couldn't remember the last time he was touched like this.
“she never deserved you,” y/n said softly, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “how dose she fuck up so bad”
His breath hitched at her words. No one had ever defended him like that before - especially not in bed, moments after intense sex. He caught her thumb with his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it before speaking against her skin. “She did me a favor... Brought me to you”
That absolute honesty made her chest ache. He wasn't bitter; he was settled. Completely sure that the universe had ripped him apart and rearranged him specifically to land in her arms. He leaned into her touch, pressing soft kisses against her palm, wrapping himself around her heart in a way nobody else ever had. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, cariña”
Y/n felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by his sincerity and tenderness. Without another word, she pulled him into a deep kiss - not passionate or demanding, but slow and meaningful, pouring all her emotions into it. He melted into her, arms wrapping around her waist as he held her close.
When they finally broke apart, he was smiling softly against her lips - genuinely smiling in a way he hadn't in months. She made him feel seen, wanted, valued... not just as a body or a provider, but as a man with feelings and desires. He felt like the luckiest man in the world, having stumbled into a love like this.
Summary: set in 1977, y/n Cody is the baby sister of Janine Cody. She doesn't go on jobs with Manny's crew, but wants too. Her boyfriend Manny would rather keep her home and safe. Unfortunately he can't keep her safe from everything.
Warnings: smut, smoking weed, implyed age gap(not a big one), gun shots, murder in the self defense, oral(F receiving), praise, slight chocking, one 'yes, sir'.
MasterList ML2
“A shot ran out like thunder and the blood was on her hands with nothing won. When someone lies dying, lovers finally understand” - Hide Your Heart, KISS.
Most nights, quiet surrounded whatever safe house she was stuck in that night. Y/n was used to silence and the occasional sounds of nature through the open window. Then when the crew was home engines would idle along outside, radios would crackle from the living room, and Colin and Jack's annual argument over plans for the next score. Y/n couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to spend their lives not looking over their shoulders.
Manny had been gone nearly a week this time. She knew not to complain - to just be grateful he came back in one piece and to just savor his presents until he leaves again.
Like tonight, he was propped up against the headboard in a white tank top, one hand cupped loosely around her waist while they shared a joint between them. It wasn't about getting high anymore. Not for either of them. It was just another routine in a life that rarely allowed them to slow down.
Her sister Janine had gone with him, of course - she always did. Y/n took the joint from his fingers and took a long drag before looking back to him. “When's the next job?”
He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around his face before disappearing into the air. “Couple weeks maybe? Depends on how this deal goes” He took the joint back from her and took another hit, his thumb tracing circles on her hipbone absently.
“Janine going?”
He took a slow drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a second before exhaling it toward the ceiling. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough but unsurprised. “She always does” - *not like head a choice on the matter.* He tapped the ash into an empty tray on the nightstand before looking back at her.
Y/n rolled her eyes, looking away as she brought the joint to her lips. Manny knew that look. He'd seen it a hundred times. “Yeah...”
“Don't start” He watched as she smoked, noticing the way her lips wrapped around the joint, the way her throat bobbed as she inhaled. He almost wanted to hear her complain like she always did. It was almost comforting at this point. Something familiar in his life that never changed.
Her eyes snapped back to his. “I didn't even say anything”
“You don't have to,” he said lowly, taking the joint back from her. “I can see it in your face, y/n. Every fucking time,” He shifted slightly, the sheets rustling between them. “You know the rules” His thumb pressed a little firmer into her hipbone, not painful but firm enough to remind her who she was talking to.
Y/n let out a sharp breath and leaned back enough to look him in the eye. “I don't get it, Manny”
His jaw tightened as he looked back at her. He knew this was coming. He always knew with her. She was like a clock - predictable and annoying as hell sometimes. But damn did he love her - the only decent thing in his life. “We've been over this” he warned lowly.
“No, you've talked, and I've listened”
“It's business,” His voice was flat, final. But he could see she wasn't buying it - not tonight. Her eyes were too hard, too tired. He stubbed out what was left of the joint and turned his full attention to her, his hand moving from her hip to cup the back of her neck. “Okay?”
“No. You and the crew go out and I get left behind” she shot back.
“You're my girl,” He said lowly, like she was a child. His fingers tightened slightly on the back of her neck, a silent warning. He was getting annoyed and they both knew it. “You stay here and you stay safe”
“I know” she mumbled.
“Then quit acting like I’m punishing you,” he muttered, his thumb stroking the side of her neck to soften the irritation in his voice. He knew she hated it - hated being left in the dark, hated sitting in safe houses waiting for a phone call that might never come. But that was the life. “You stay here, you stay safe. That’s the deal”
Y/n's frustration remained. “and I'm tired of it”
He let out a sharp, frustrated sigh, dropping his hand from her neck back down to the sheets. “Tough,” he said bluntly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He was done debating this. “I don't know what you gotta complain about, You've got a roof over your head. Food in the fridge. You don't have to worry about money”
“that's not the point”
He went rigid under her touch, his muscles twitching involuntarily as her fingers traced the sharp lines of his hips. He knew exactly what she was doing - trying to soften him up, distract him, or maybe just feel connected. It usually worked, which pissed him off more. “Then enlighten me”
“I want you to take me with you” she says, her fingers brushing down his lower abdomen and then tracing his hips.
His jaw clenched and unclenched as he looked at her, those words hanging heavy between them. “You can't,” he said sharply, catching her wrists before they could go any lower. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “I'm not discussing this”
Y/n laughed bitterly. “See? Same thing every time”
“That's because every time you make this same fucking request,” he shot back, his grip on her wrists firm but not painful. He could see her getting worked up, and part of him wanted to give in just to shut her up. But he couldn't. “You think I want you out there getting shot at? Getting recognized? Getting killed?”
She knew the consequences. Hell, she prayed every night - lied awake most nights, worrying about whether or not Manny was gonna come home or not. Still, she held her ground. “You don't think I can handle myself”
“It’s not about whether you can handle yourself,” he snapped, his voice low and intense. Losing her terrified him. “It’s about keeping you alive. You’re the only fucking good thing in my life, y/n. The last thing I need is for you to get caught in the crossfire”
Y/n's head dropped and she nodded softly. “Okay” she murmured.
His grip on her wrists softened, and after a moment he pulled her against his chest. He knew that silence - that defeated little nod. It wasn't acceptance. It was her giving up the fight for tonight. His hand moved to the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. “Don't do that” he muttered against the crown of her head.
“I'm agreeing with you” she pressed, hands dropping to his shoulders. He hated that defeated tone in her voice, but he wasn't going to apologize for keeping her safe.
The movement was sudden and sharp, stealing the air from her lungs. One second she was curled into his chest, the next her back was hitting the mattress, Manny’s heavy weight settling firmly between her legs. He pinned her wrists effortlessly to the pillow on either side of her head, his knees forcing her thighs apart.
“You're agreeing because you know I'm right” he echoed darkly, his face hovering inches above hers.
She stared up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly under his weight. There was no room to argue now, not with him looming over her like this, his expression unreadable but intense. He held her wrists pinned against the pillow, his thumbs pressing into her pulse points to remind her who was in control.
“I know” she whispered finally, her voice lacking any fight.
A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at his lips, his thumbs still circling her pulse points - feeling how fast her heart was racing, not from fear but from this. From him. He leaned down until his lips were a breath away from hers. “Don't bring it up again”
Her breath hitched. “Yes, sir”
“Buena Chica,” The soft 'sir' was like a fucking drug - submission and respect wrapped up in two syllables. His hips shifted slightly, pressing down against her core. He wasn't hard yet but he would be soon if she kept talking to him like that. “now kiss me”
She tilted her head up instantly, pressing her lips against his. It was soft, obedient, and absolute surrender. There was no hesitation, no lingering argument - just submission, letting him settle the dominance and reassure them both. Manny hummed against her mouth, letting go of her wrists to slide his hand into her hair instead, deepening the kiss immediately.
He kissed her like he owned her - like she was his territory to claim. His tongue demanded entrance, sweeping against hers in a slow, dominant rhythm. He nipped at her lower lip, tugged it between his teeth, soothed the sting with his tongue. He pulled away before, falling back to his side of the bed. “now go to sleep, party at Lou's tomorrow”
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The safe house was silent except for the steady hum of the old refrigerator in the kitchen and the occasional sound of traffic outside. Y/n had been fast asleep, curled against Manny's side, when she heard it - a soft thud. Then there was another. Manny's entire body tensed beneath her. He untangled himself from her limbs slowly, quietly, his eyes scanning the room even though it was pitch black. He'd been in this game long enough to recognize the sound of someone trying to be quiet - someone who definitely didn't belong. His hand slid into the nightstand, grasping the gun he kept there.
Y/n pushed herself up on her elbows. “What is it?” she whispered.
He pressed a finger to his lips, silencing her instantly, then pointed at the floor beside the bed. He wanted her down low where she'd be harder to see if someone came through that door. Another soft thud, closer this time. Someone was definitely trying to break in. She crouched behind the bed as Manny moved silently across the room, pressing his back against the wall beside the bedroom door. He could hear muffled voices now, at least two people. They thought they were being quiet but Manny's hearing was sharp, honed by years of this shit. He brought the gun up, pointing it at the door, his finger hovering over the trigger.
Then he disappeared into the dark hallway. Y/n sat frozen for a moment, listening. At first, there was nothing. Soft creaks on the floor boards quickly turned into hurried footsteps. A crash soon followed and the sounds of struggle. Jake started shouting after a loud thud hit the floor. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
She tried to stay put - really, she did, but every instinct screamed that something was wrong. Manny wasn't calling for her and he wouldn't if he could and the sounds coming from the living room were getting worse. Her eyes landed on the dresser where Manny left his .22 earlier that night. Before she could think twice, she grabbed it. The metal felt cold and heavier than she expected. She moved carefully down the hallway, her bare feet silent against the worn wood floor.
She rounded the corner into the living room, the scene snapped into focus all at once. The living room was a disaster zone - a lamp shattered on the floor, glass everywhere. The stranger had wrestled Manny on the ground near the sofa, struggling to pin his arms while Jake was flat on his ass with wrists duck taped behind him. The stranger and Manny were both shouting in rapid Spanish, panic overriding their discipline. Manny’s gun had slid across the floor, out of reach.
Everything seemed to slow down. The stranger pulled his gun, pointing it at Manny. The chamber clicked and for one terrifying second, nobody moved. Instinct took over and y/n raised the gun. She pulled the trigger and a crack echoed through the house. The stranger went still and collapsed sideways onto the floor. Silence followed and it was heavy and the ringing in her ear followed. It felt unreal.
Manny shoved himself upright immediately, patting himself down out of pure reflex, checking for injuries. His breathing was hard and fast. There was no blood, no wounds - he was okay. He looked at the man lying motionless beside him then looked at her.
She was standing there with the gun now pointing to the floor, face pale, eyes wide. She stood there shaking like she couldn't believe what she'd just done. Blood was already pooling across the floor. Manny rose slowly - carefully. Approaching her like a frightened animal. “It's okay,” he said quietly. Her eyes flicked to his face, wide and unfocused. His expression softened immediately. “It's okay, baby”
“Manny” y/n said just above a whisper.
“Estoy aquí,” he murmured instantly, closing the remaining distance between them. Jake struggled, but managed to cut the duck tap on his wrists with a shard from the broken lamp. Manny reached out for the gun gently and she let go without resistance. He tucked the gun into the back of his jeans before his large hands came up to frame her face, forcing her to look at him and away from the body. “Look at me”
Her gaze found his. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he promised immediately, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones to ground her. “I’m not hit. I’m okay.” He kept her face bracketed in his hands, forcing her to maintain eye contact so she wouldn't spiral back into shock.
Behind him, Jake crouched beside the body, checking for any sign of movement. He was stone cold dead. He looked up at Y/n and for a moment, his expression was unreadable then he nodded, a tight-lipped smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Nice shot”
Manny shot Jake a warning look - not now. Jake's expression sobered immediately, and he stood, turning his attention toward the windows and doors, making sure they were alone.
“Come here” Manny pulled y/n close, wrapping his arms around her shoulders protectively. He felt her shake slightly against him, clinging to his shirt with both hands. He looked down at her, his expression softening even more. Just a few weeks ago, they'd argued because she wanted to be part of this life. Now she stood in the middle of it.
“I'm sorry” she said, her voice cracking.
"Don't apologize,” he said firmly, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head. He pressed a kiss to her temple, breathing in her scent - still her, still his, even with the smell of gun powder. “You fucking saved my life. You understand that?”
She was silent, just breathing against his chest, trying to regulate her heart rate. Her hands were still shaking, so he gripped them between his, rubbing warmth back into her skin. Jake was already wrapping the body in a sheet and duck taping it nice and tight.
“Breathe, baby,” he coached softly, pulling her hands up to press kisses against her cold knuckles. “Just breathe. It’s over. You did good” He kept his voice low and steady, grounding her. Jake dragged the wrapped bundle toward the back door with practiced efficiency, stepping over the shattered glass without a second thought.
“we gotta get rid of the body” y/n said softly.
Manny pressed another kiss to her forehead, keeping his hands firmly wrapped around hers. “Jake is handling it,” He smoothed his thumbs over her trembling knuckles. “You are not touching any of that. You handled the hard part”
Jake kicked the back door open, dragging the wrapped body out into the night without needing instructions. Manny turned her face gently back toward him. “Look at me,” he commanded softly. His eyes were dark and intense, focusing solely on her. “You shot someone tonight. How are you feeling?” He knew the aftereffects could hit hard - adrenaline crashes, shock, nausea. He braced himself for tears or vomiting or both.
She kissed him instead. The intense kind that helped her forget and he responded instantly, understanding the silent plea - an anchor. His hand slid to the back of her neck, angling her head to deepen the kiss, swallowing the lingering adrenaline and panic pouring off her tongue. He let her use him to ground herself, kissing her back with just enough force to make her feel real, to pull her out of the shock.
When she finally pulled back, her breathing was steadier, her hands less shaky. He rested their foreheads together, closing his eyes. “That’s my girl” He murmured, thumb tracing along her jaw.
Jake came back in, wiping his hands on his jeans, the body in the truck and ready to go dump. “Neighbor's lights are still off. No one heard shit. We’re good”
“Good,” Manny said, his voice steady. He kept one hand on the back of her neck, keeping her close as he looked over at Jake. “You got everything?” Jake nodded before heading out. The back door clicked shut as he left, the silence of the safe house rushing back in, though the air was now heavy with the metallic scent of blood and shattered glass. Manny didn’t move her away, keeping his forehead pressed against hers, his thumb still stroking her jaw.
“You okay?” he asked softly, reading the shift in her breathing now that the immediate threat was gone.
“No, just... ” she said honestly. “Just help me forget about it”
He didn’t hesitate, his hands immediately moving to frame her face as he kissed her deeply. No gentleness this time, just pure intensity and distraction - the exact thing she needed. His lips crashed against hers, his tongue demanding entry as he lifted her up abruptly, wrapping her legs around his waist. He carried her through the disaster toward the bedroom. He shoved the door open with his shoulder and dropped her onto the bed before climbing over her.
“Focus on me,” he ordered against her lips, his hands already pulling at her shirt. “Only me” His forehead pressed against hers again, eyes dark and locked on her.
She let him pull her shirt off and she pulled his up too, running her hands over his chest and abs. Anything to keep her mind off what happened. He understood, his hands moving quickly to untie her sweatpants, tugging them down her legs along with her underwear. “eyes on me” he said softly.
She nodded, gripping the sheets underneath her. He leaned down to kiss along her neck, his stubble scraping down her skin. He kissed down her breasts, grounding her, deliberately distracting her. He knew exactly how to handle her brain - overloading her senses with physical intimacy so the violence couldn't settle.
His hands mapped her hips and down her thighs, keeping her attention strictly on his touch. “Just me,” he murmured against her stomach. “Nothing else”
His lips traveled lower, kissing along her pelvis before settling between her thighs. His tongue found her core immediately, slow and deliberate, giving her something else to feel - to focus on. He kept one hand pressed flat against her lower stomach, grounding pressure while the other slid under her ass to tilt her hips up for better access.
“B-baby” y/n moans as her hands fall into his hair, her fists curling into the thick locks.
He groaned against her, the vibration of it making her hips twitch. “Sí” he murmured, lips brushing her sensitive flesh. His tongue worked slow and deep, savoring her like this - using her pleasure to drown out the memory of the gunshot still echoing in her head.
Her thighs trembled against his jaw and he pressed firm hands to hold them open. His tongue circled her clit slowly, teasingly, before sucking gently. The combination of pressure and motion had her gasping, hips bucking against his mouth. He held her down easily with his hands on her hips, continuing the slow torture - making her feel, making her forget. He growled against her when she tugged on his hair impatiently.
“Patience, Cariña” he muttered against her, the words vibrating through her core. He licked slowly again, building the pleasure deliberately - giving her brain something else to do besides replay the violence. He could tell she was getting lost in it, her moans growing louder and less coherent.
“P-please... Manny, please”
He didn’t tease her anymore. He flattened his tongue and licked a firm, heavy stripe up her center before sucking her clit into his mouth, relentless and rhythmic. Her back arched off the mattress, a broken cry falling from her lips as the pleasure overwhelmed her senses, drowning out the blood and the gunshots. He worked her methodically, pushing her toward the edge of oblivion. Her thighs clamped around his head, her grip tightening in his hair as she chased the inevitable release. When it hit, it ripped through her entire body - violent and desperate.
He felt her thighs shake around his ears as she came with a sharp cry. He didn't stop, tongue moving relentlessly to draw out the orgasm, to make her feel it in every cell - to replace the violence with pleasure. When her body finally went limp, he kissed her inner thigh gently and crawled up her body. He hovered over her, his weight supported on his forearms, staring down at her flushed, panting form. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, her chest heaving. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pressed a surprisingly tender kiss to her lips.
“Better?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing her cheek.
Y/n nodded softly, catching her breath. “y-yeah”
He leaned down to kiss her forehead, his broad chest pressing against hers. “Good” He sat back on his knees and began undoing the button on his jeans, eyes never leaving her face. She watched him through hooded eyelids, her brain too fuzzy to think about anything except for the slow slide of his zipper.
He pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough, freeing himself. Her eyes dropped to the heavy curve of his cock, already hard and straining against his lower abdomen. He hooked her legs over his arms, leaning forward to blank her body with his, the tip of him teasing her soaked entrance.
“Eyes on me, baby” he reminded her, voice dropping an octave.
She met his gaze, pupils blown and lips parted. He pushed in slowly, the thick head of him stretching her open. Her mouth fell open on a silent O and he swallowed it with a kiss, muffling her moan as he filled her inch by slow inch until his hips were flush against hers. “fuck, Manny” y/n whined, her nails dipping into his back to brace herself.
“Shhh” he hushed against her mouth, pulling back just enough to thrust forward again - a heavy, grinding motion that made her eyes roll back. He set a slow, deep pace, each thrust pushing him further into her foggy brain until she couldn't think about anything but him and the thick slide of his cock inside her.
“feel so good” she shuddered under her breath.
A rough, satisfied sound rumbled in his throat. “Sí, baby?” he murmured, one hand curling possessively around her thigh to spread her wider for him. He used the leverage to angle himself differently, hitting something inside her that made her whole body jerk. “Like that?”
“y-yes” she whimpers as her nails dug deeper into his skin.
He found her sensitive spot over and over again, using it to scramble her brain completely. Each thrust became a deliberate,deep strike that made her whimper and scratch at him mindlessly. He swallowed her noises with hungry kisses, one hand moving to cover her mouth when she got too loud.
“Quiet, babygirl,” he whispered roughly against her cheek, his hips never faltering in that punishingly slow rhythm. “Let me take care of you” He pinned one of her hands to the mattress, intertwining their fingers to anchor her completely. Every deep stroke forced the violence from her memory, replacing the trauma with nothing but pure, overwhelming sensation. “You're safe. Just feel me”
Y/n was pinned beneath him, utterly controlled yet completely safe - the dichotomy was exactly what her rattled psyche needed. He kept that slow, deep pace going for what felt like an eternity, making her feel every vein and inch, until she was sobbing soft little pleas against his palm.
He felt her starting to clench around him and knew she was close. He lifted his hand from her mouth to wrap it around her throat instead, squeezing lightly as he leaned down to speak directly into her ear. “Come on, babygirl. Let go for me. I've got you”
His words were like a trigger. She went off with a muffled cry, her body convulsing wildly beneath him as she came hard around his still-pumping cock. He kept his pace slow and deep, drawing out her orgasm, his other hand gripping her hip possessively. When her tremors finally began to subside, he finally let himself speed up, his thrusts turning urgent and deep. He was close, but his attention remained focused on her - making sure she was still following before he allowed himself the release. He kissed her temple, her cheek, her nose. “Cariña, Por favor” he breathed against her lips, seeking permission.
Y/n quickly nodded - almost desperately wrapping her legs around his waist just to make sure he stayed there. He groaned instantly, understanding exactly what she needed - that primal reassurance that he wasn't leaving. He buried himself deep, grinding into her wet, sensitive cunt until he broke with a guttural moan, spilling hard and hot inside her.
He collapsed heavily against her, immediately wrapping his arms around her trembling frame, completely covering her. “I got you”
He stayed inside her, letting his weight press her firmly into the mattress - a physical anchor against the ghosts that tried to creep back into her mind. His lips pressed soft, apologetic kisses along her jaw and neck as he murmured in Spanish, something about being proud of her, about how brave she was.
The blood on his hands had been washed away, but the memory wasn't and he could deal with that. Now she had blood on hers. He buried his face in her neck, absorbing her trembles. He understood the corruption now - her clean, soft hands had taken a life today. The innocence was tainted, permanently stained by violence.
He held her tighter, refusing to let the shame take root. He would carry that guilt for her. He had killed before; he knew how to survive the blood and he didn't want her to have to live with that too.
“You did what you had to do,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “No one will ever blame you, especially not me. But if you want to hate someone, hate me” His thumb wiped away a stray tear. “My beautiful, brave girl. You saved my life today” He kissed the corner of her mouth.
“I love you” she whispered.
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, seeing the trauma swirling there alongside the fading pleasure. He kissed her lips softly, lingering, pouring every ounce of comfort he had into the connection. The violence was over, the blood was spilled, but she was alive. He was alive. That was all that mattered. “Yo también te quiero”
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The next morning felt strangely normal - too normal. Sunlight spilled through the kitchen windows while a pot of coffee sat warming on the stove. Janine had returned a few hours before dawn with Colin, and the house had settled into an uneasy quiet after hurried explanations and whispered conversations.
Y/n hadn't slept much. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard the gunshot again. She'd finally given up around sunrise. Now, she stepped out onto the back porch, wrapping her arms around herself against the cool morning air.
Manny sat on the worn couch that was out there, elbows resting on his knees, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. Jake leaned against the railing nearby with a cup of coffee in hand.
Colin who was slouched in an old metal chair with his boots propped up on the porch rail looked up at y/n with a smirk. “Heard you drew your first blood last night”
That earned him a slap in the head by Jake. Manny tapped his ash against the railing, shooting Colin a look that could kill. He patted his thigh, calling her over. “Come here”
“What?” Colin asked, raising his hands slightly. “I'm just sayin'”
Y/n moved silently, settling down on his lap. His arm slid around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. Manny pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his jaw tightening slightly at Colin's casual remark. He knew the reality was far more traumatic than Colin realized. He took a deep drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly before responding, his voice low and serious. “You watch your mouth,” Manny warned him, smoke curling from his lips. “She saved my life. Don’t turn it into some twisted initiation”
Manny's hand rubbed soothing circles against her back, grounding her. Jake shook his head slightly at Colin, silently telling him to shut the hell up. Manny dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his boot, his arm tightening around her waist protectively.
“body gone?” Janine asked, staring at them both through her sunglasses.
“Drove out about 10 miles into the desert,” Jake answered immediately, shifting his weight. “Doused it with gasoline before I lit it. Nothing will be left but ash by now” Manny nodded in confirmation, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“We're gonna have to move out soon,” Janine said, low and casual as she stole a cigarette from Manny's pack. “lay low”
Manny nodded stiffly. He ran his fingers through her hair, knowing the transition would be hardest on her - moving away, leaving the familiar, when she was already unstable. For what it's worth, being able to pull the trigger ain't the hard part. It's living with it after.
Paring: Don Hart x agegap!Reader + Ryan Hart x Crush!Reader
Summary: y/n Ryder is a paramedic for the 113. She's young and smart and finds herself stuck in an unexpected love triangle between her best friend and his father. Ryan Hart has been chasing her for months, hoping she loves him just as much as he does her. To his dismay she may have eyes for another - the captain.
Warnings: smut, quickies, consummating a marriage? Unprotected sex. This is SO bad - I'm sorry.
❤️🔥MasterList ML2 ❤️🔥Table of Contents
(not my gif)
The farmhouse looked different today. White chairs sat beneath the old trees near the pasture. Wildflowers lined the aisle. Soft music drifted through the warm Tennessee air while horses shifted quietly in the nearby stables. They wanted it small. Not fancy or overly extravagant - in fact if y/n had her way they'd be at a court house right now, but Donnie wanted to give her something bigger. Something she deserved.
Y/n stood near the bedroom window, smoothing her hands down the white dress for what had to be the tenth time. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was simple and elegant. Lace over a soft fabric that hugged her curves and flowed out just slightly below her hips.
Roxie stood behind her, fixing y/n's hair so laid loosely around her shoulders.
“You nervous?” Roxie asked.
“A little” she said, staring out toward the pasture.
“That’s normal” Roxie smiled faintly.
A knock came at the door. Roxie opened it and Ryan stood there. He looked good - white dress shirt, charcoal jacket, boots cleaned up for once. But when he saw y/n - He stopped. And for a second everything in him went quiet. There she was - In white and ready to marry his father. And suddenly something inside his chest twisted. It wasn't anger - not jealousy exactly. Just… an ache. A stupid, painful little ache he thought he'd buried months ago.
Because seeing her like this - Beautiful and happy - made some selfish part of him wish just for a second that he was standing in Donnie’s place.
Ryan swallowed hard then smiled anyway. Because that part? The ache - that part stayed hidden. “Well,” he said lightly, “look at you”
Y/n smiled. “Too much?”
“Nah,” His voice stayed easy. “You look beautiful”
Her expression softened. “Thank you”
Ryan shoved his hands into his pockets. There was a quiet moment. Then y/n tilted her head. “You okay?”
He smiled again. “Yeah”
She studied him and because she knew him - Really knew him he waited. Ryan glanced toward the window. “You know,” he said, his smile softening. “You made us better”
Y/n looked at him. Ryan shrugged. “Station didn’t feel the same before you”
That hit her harder than he meant it to. “You’re my best friend” she said softly.
And for half a second that ache returned, but Ryan kept smiling. “You’re mine too”
He hesitated then hugged her - it was warm and real. He stepped back and he smiled again. “Go marry him”
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Guests stood as the music began. Donnie turned and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. She appeared at the far end of the aisle with Roxie beside her. He never took his eyes off her - he couldn't if he tried. Time stood still as their eyes locked. When she reached him his hands reached for hers without hesitation as his hands glossed over with pure admiration and unconditional love.
As they stood facing each other, Donnie's heart raced with a mix of nerves and overwhelming joy. He gently squeezed her hands, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles in a comforting gesture. The pastor went on with his little monologue - nothing her or Donnie already knew. His voice seemed to fade out as his blue eyes stayed locked on hers. Y/n mouthed a simple but loaded *'I love you'*. It was silent but echoing louder than any sermon, sending a wave of pure devotion crashing through him. His thumbs pressed a little firmer against her knuckles, smiling as he responded back with a heavy and fulfilling 'I love you too' as he drank in every detail of her gorgeous face.
He felt like he was dreaming. No one had ever looked at him the way she was looking at him right now. Like he was everything she had ever wanted. He was nervous, sure. But more than anything, he felt loved. He felt cherished. The pastor's voice finally broke through the haze of their shared moment. “your vows?”
Donnie barely looked away from her eyes. His voice came out lower, more vulnerable than he planned. “To my wife, we both came from places that should've broken us. I used to think family was something other people got, I thought some people were lucky enough to have a place they belonged and some of us just kept moving,”
In the front Ryan sat - watching. Listening. God, he was trying not to think too hard - feel all his feelings too hard. Blue sat beside him, glancing at his brother through the corner of his eye after every shift he made. Then Ryan shifted again. He leaned forward slightly with his elbows resting on his knees. His heart was beating so fast he could feel it in his jaw. But the ceremony continued.
“I got older and built a life. Built a career. Built a station full of people I care about. I convinced myself that was enough... Then you showed up. You walked into my station like a storm and somehow became everything. You became family - you became my home. I've seen you at your best and I've definitely seen you at your worst, but most of all I've seen how hard you fight for people... How much you love - how much you give,”
Give .... Ryan thought about if he was given one more chance - just given one last chance. He hated himself for it. A thought crossed his mind, what If he stood up at the 'speak now' and he didn't hold his peace. He remembered that dumb medical drama y/n used to make him watch with her. He remembers the unrealistically attractive doctor crashing the bride's wedding and professing the love he still had for her. At the time Ryan thought it was stupid - down right dirty. Now that option didn't sound too bad. His father's vows continued to pierce his soul
“How often do you forget you're allowed to be loved back? You spent so much of your life believing you were alone, you aren't. And you never will be again. You gave me a future I didn't think I wanted anymore and I promise I'll choose you every day... I promise to stand beside you for every good day and every bad one. I promise to love you for the rest of my life because no matter where we started... We ended up finding each other in the end”
Y/n laughed once. Mostly because she was already crying and she wasn't even trying to hold back now. She looked at Donnie and then shook her head. She smiled through her tears. Then looked back at him as her voice softened.
“I umm... Grew up thinking there was something wrong with me... Because nobody stayed. People came and went out of my life, so I stopped expecting anyone to stay. Then I met you,” A small smile appeared as he gave her hands a comforting squeeze. “And for the first time... I met someone who stayed”
Donnie looked away briefly - just long enough to compose himself. “You've had the pleasure and displeasure to see every version of me. The stubborn version - the reckless version. The version that absolutely should not be trusted with anyone in their right mind, But you also saw the parts I tried to hide. The scared and lonely parts. The parts that never really believed they belonged anywhere,” A tear slipped down her cheek.
“And you loved me anyway... You saved me more than once - Not because you're a firefighter, but because every time I was ready to push you away you stayed. You taught me that family isn't about where you come from, but who you choose. And everyday you chose me,” She took a breath then finished. “I promise I'll forever choose you too. I promise to stand beside you to fight for you and to build a life with you. I'll walk through every fire with you”
The room was quiet. Other than the soft sniffles coming from the guests. Donnie's eyes were glossed over and his bottom lip trembled. He looked at her like she was everything. Like she was the air in his lungs, the blood in his veins - the reason his heart beat.
“And now... Do you, Don Hart, take y/n to be your wife? To love her, honor her, and cherish her for as long as you both shall live?” The pastor asked, taking over.
Donnie didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. His voice was thick with emotion, rough around the edges, but steady and absolute. “I do,” The words came out like a vow, like a promise sealed in stone. He slid the ring onto her finger, his blue eyes swimming with tears as he stared at the woman who had become his entire world. “I absolutely do”
“And do you y/n, take Don Hart to be your husband? To love him, honor him, and cherish him for as long as you both shall live?” The pastor asked.
Y/n's hands trembled slightly in Donnie's, her vision blurred by tears but her heart had never been clearer. She looked at him - really looked at him - the man who'd stayed when everyone else left, who loved her when she felt unlovable, who showed up every single day. “I do” she said, mirroring his actions and slipping the silver band onto this ring finger.
Donnie's heart swelled to the point of pain as he watched her slide the ring onto his finger. His ring. Their symbol of forever. His hands tightened around hers, pulling her closer as the pastor pronounced them husband and wife. “You may -”
Donnie was already moving and without waiting for the pastor's permission, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a soft, gentle kiss that spoke volumes of love and promises kept. His hands cupped her face tenderly, thumbs wiping away her tears as he poured every emotion into that single kiss.
“Ryan” Blue nudge hit his shoulder - hard. Ryan blinked. The fantasy in his head shattered instantly. Blue was staring at him as the sounds of clapping and cheering echoed in his ears.
Ryan looked back up at the altar. Donnie didn't hear any of it. His world had narrowed down to just this - just her. He held her face against his like she was the most precious, fragile thing in existence, kissing her with a reverence that made it clear he was never letting her go. And for the first time Ryan let himself fully accept it - not with regret or anger, just a quiet understanding. Some things weren’t meant to be his.
But that didn’t mean they weren’t still worth everything.
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Music drifted through the warm evening air. Everyone was having a wonderful time - everyone except y/n. Well not exactly. Of course she was happy - overwhelmingly happy. That was the problem. She'd spent so much of her life trying not to be noticed or trying not to take up space and not to become the center of attention. Now every few minutes someone was hugging her.
Talking to her. Congratulating her. Pointing her out and smiling at her. She felt like an exhibit at the zoo.
Donnie found her near one of the fence posts, nursing a glass of sweet tea and watching the crowd. He slowed his pace as he approached her, reading her posture instantly. The tension in her shoulders, the way she was hiding against the fence post - the "social battery" warning light was blinking bright red. He slipped in beside her, leaning his back against the fence so he was shoulder to shoulder with her, shielding her from the bulk of the crowd.
“You doing okay, Mrs. Hart?”
Her head fell, resting against his shoulder, smiling softly despite herself. “Yeah”
“Too much attention?” he guessed, already knowing the answer. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer. His hand found hers, lacing their fingers together as his thumb brushed gentle circles across her knuckles, the rings catching the last light of the fading sun. “I can cause a scene and we can bolt”
Y/n smiled against his shoulder and the sound of her laugh followed. It was real and it was light - completely unguarded. It made his chest ache in the best way possible. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair, the weight of her against him still feeling like a miracle he didn’t deserve but got to keep anyway.
“I’m serious, we got options. I can throw a chair through a window, fake a fight, arson is a good option... I can have another panic attack and pass out”
That made her head snap up, giving him a look while trying not to smile as she playfully shoved him. “shut up”
“What? I'm just sayin’ I've got a whole skill set,” Donnie grinned, that rare, easy smile that reached his eyes, crinkling the corners. He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles right where her new ring sat. “whatever the bride wants, the bride gets”
He watched her, his heart rate picking up as he saw the tension around her eyes start to melt away. He knew this woman better than he knew himself sometimes. He could see when she was overwhelmed, when she was hurting, when she was happy.
His thumb traced over her jaw gently. “You wanna get outta here for a bit?” He said softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief and something else - a deep affection that was just for her. The kind of look that said he'd move mountains if she asked him to.
Y/n glanced toward the reception. “The others will notice”
“Let 'em notice,” Donnie whispered, leaning in closer so only she could hear. His hand slipped down to rest at her waist, fingers curling gently around her hip bone. “We're newlyweds. We're allowed to disappear for awhile”
Donnie's hand inched up from her waist, his fingers splaying out possessively as they nestled just under her ribcage. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered. “Come on”
They slipped quietly into the farmhouse.
The door clicked shut behind them. Instantly everything felt calmer. The music still drifted through the walls. Laughter carried faintly from outside, but it was softer - more distant. The house felt peaceful. She immediately let out a long breath, leaning against the arm of the couch.
He watched her unfurl before his eyes like a flower finally finding sunlight. She looked so beautiful in that white dress, but he loved this version of her even more - the soft exhale, the way her shoulders dropped, the quiet relief on her face. He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, moving closer to her. His hands came up to gently grasp her hips. His touch was soft, unhurried. He just held her there, silent and close. Let her feel his presence, his solidness. After a moment, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
His presence enveloping her as he wrapped his arms around her waist. His forehead rested against her shoulder as he breathed her in - the sweet perfume she'd worn for the wedding, the underlying scent that was just hers. He hummed softly, his arms tightening around her possessively.
The song playing outside changed. A familiar steel guitar drifted softly. Then George Strait's voice - 'I cross my heart' “dance with me” he whispered.
He didn't wait for an answer, simply pulling her closer into the middle of the quiet living room. One hand slid to her lower back, the other capturing her hand, threading their fingers together. He swayed them slowly, effortlessly moving to the rhythm drifting through the walls, ignoring the party outside in favor of this - just the two of them.
The music wasn't loud, but Donnie knew every beat, every pause, every note of this song like it was written into his bones. He danced with her the way he did everything else - with a quiet intensity that made the whole world outside them disappear. His thumb traced circles on her back, lower each time, pulling her hips flush against his.
Then, quietly, he started singing along with the song. It wasn’t loud, but just for her. His voice was rougher than George Strait's - less polished, but infinitely more meaningful. “You will always be the miracle that makes my life complete and as long as there's a breath in me, I'll make yours just as sweet”
Y/n's eyes closed as a smile spread across her face. Donnie's hand tightened slightly at her waist, Mami F her laughed softly. “You're such a sap”
Donnie didn't even deny it, just grinned against her temple, the vibration of his low laugh humming through her where their chests were pressed together. He slowed their rhythm just enough to press a soft kiss against her lips as her hand rested at his jaw. He leaned into her touch instantly, his eyes fluttering shut as the kiss shifted from gentle to something deeper, hungrier. He poured every unspoken vow, every piece of his soul into it, his hand spreading wide against her back to hold her flush against him. The world outside - the music, the guests, the celebration. It all ceased to exist completely. There was only her.
As things deepened further as he wrapped his arms around her, following her down on the couch. His body covered hers as he finally broke the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses down her neck. His hands were already roaming under her dress, touching every inch of her skin he could reach. He was hard and aching for his wife.
“Donnie” she mumbled against his lips, her body shuddering against his as she tugged his suit jacket off his shoulders.
His jacket fell off easily, his vest soon after. His shirt was left half-unbuttoned, not letting her finish the job. He was completely preoccupied with her - his hands under her dress, his mouth finding hers again, his belt buckle pressing urgently against her stomach. “God, y/n”
His hands slowly inching up her thighs, pushing the white fabric up with them. Underneath was a set of lace panties - white and brand new. He unbuckled his belt slowly as he kept his eyes on her like she was something precious - which she was. His fingers traced the lace edge of her panties, his breath hitching as he took in the sight of her spread out beneath him. The white dress pooled around her waist, the lace a stark contrast against her skin. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh before slowly pulling the fabric aside.
“D-donnie,” her hands braced on his shoulders as a gasp escaped her lips. “You know how many people are outside?”
“Too many,” he admitted quietly, his fingers curling into the lace of her underwear and slowly tugging them down her legs. He tossed them aside somewhere, not caring where they landed. His focus was solely on her - on spreading her legs wider and settling between them. “it's my wedding, I'll fuck my wife if I want too”
He didn't even bother taking his pants off completely - just pushed them down enough to free his cock, giving it one firm stroke before notching himself against her entrance. She was so wet already, the head of his cock sliding easily through her folds. He captured her mouth in a deep kiss to muffle any sounds she might make as he pushed inside her slowly, inch by inch until he was fully seated. His hands gripped her thighs, holding them open as he started to move - slow, deep thrusts that hit every sensitive spot inside her.
He broke the kiss to press his face into her neck, his teeth sinking gently into the muscle there as he sped up his pace a little. He knew he wasn't being quiet - like it would matter, it's their wedding was going on outside. No one would hear the sounds of the way their bodies moved together, along with his ragged breathing and the occasional hushed curse.
“You feel so good,” y/n shuddered, her lips dragging against his neck. “don't stop”
“Wasn't planning on it” Donnie groaned, his hips snapping forward harder. His hand slid between their bodies, finding her clit and rubbing tight circles that had her arching off the couch. The outside didn't matter anymore - none of it. Her - only her.
He shifted his angle slightly, hitting deeper, watching her face twist with pleasure. His thumb pressed down harder on her clit as he thrust up, hitting that spot inside her that made her eyes roll back. He swallowed down her gasp with his mouth, his free hand gripping her hip tightly to keep her in place for his deep, relentless strokes.
“Donnie, I'm gon-”
“I know, sweetheart” he breathed against her lips, feeling her walls flutter around him, tightening impossibly. He didn't slow down - just thrust harder, chasing her release with her. The music outside seemed to fade completely now, replaced by the sounds of skin slapping, his ragged breathing, her muffled moans into his shoulder.
Her orgasm hit hard - a full body shudder that had him burying his face in her neck as he felt her clamp down around him, her nails digging into his back through his open shirt. He followed her over the edge seconds later, spilling inside her with a low groan, his hips stuttering as he stayed buried deep, not wanting to pull out, not yet.
He stayed inside her, his weight pressing her into the couch cushions as he caught his breath against her neck. His hand stroked lazy patterns on her thigh, his lips brushing featherlight kisses over her collarbone. The music outside had changed to something brighter, more upbeat - everyone is probably on the dance floor now. Neither of them moved.
He finally lifted his head, a lazy, satisfied smile on his face as he gazed down at her. Her dress was rumpled around her waist, her hair messy from his hands, her cheeks flushed. He looked just as disheveled - shirt open, pants around his thighs, hair tousled. Y/n, cupped his neck and pulled him down, pressing a soft and lingering kiss to his lips. This kiss was tender, full of love and devotion. “okay, now they're gonna notice the bride and groom are gone” She murmured against his mouth, though, she made zero move to actually get up or push him off. He remained buried deep inside her at that moment.
He chuckled softly, his arms tightening around her as he pressed another kiss to her lips before standing up slowly, pulling out of her with a gentle groan. He quickly fixed his pants, buttoning them and adjusting himself before helping her smooth down her dress and fix her hair somewhat.
She stood up shakily, her legs still feeling like jelly from the intense encounter. He watched her closely, making sure she was steady before he slowly buttoned up his shirt, his eyes roaming appreciatively over her figure. He took his jacket and draped it over her shoulders before taking her hand and intertwining their fingers. They walked back towards their wedding reception minutes later. The music was loud and the dance floor was packed with guests enjoying themselves. No one seemed to notice their absence or the fact that they looked slightly disheveled and flushed.
They slipped back into the reception without anyone noticing, their hands still tightly clasped. Donnie's jacket hung loosely on Y/n's shoulders, smelling like him - cologne and sex. He led her to the dance floor, pulling her into his arms and beginning to sway in time with the music. As they danced, he lifted their arms, spinning her once before pulling her back to his chest. He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, his thumb stroking over her knuckles. “I love you, Mrs. Hart”
She smiled up at him, practically glowing. “I love you more”
And with that the future didn't seem scary anymore - just open. And for the first time in a very long time, neither of them had to face it alone.
Summary: sucking You're captain off after a stressful shift.
Warnings: smut with no plot, oral(m receiving), established relationship, secret relationship, age gap, office blow job, slight captain kink, public sex?
MasterList ML2
Owen groaned as his cock slid halfway down her throat. He felt low and tired, one hand sliding into her hair, making a tight fist. She sucked him slow and wet, tongue pressing flat against the underside just how he liked. He was stressed, it had been a long night - a long call
She hummed around him, squeezing his thighs as she bobbed her head, taking his thick cock deeper. Her knees ached from sitting on the cold floor of his office, but she could care less. Her nose brushed his pelvis as he let out a shaky moan, fingers tightening in her hair.
He looked down at her through hooded eyes, face flushed and breathing heavy. “Fuck, just like that..” He muttered, hips jerking forward slightly. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing away the stray tears. “So good for me..” He praised softly.
His grip in her hair tightened, guiding her rhythm as he lost himself in the sensation. After too many hours on calls, too many problems he couldn't fix, this was what grounded him. Her submission, her need to please. She melted into him, taking him deeper until he hit the back of her throat. He let out a shaky exhale. The sight of her on her knees, completely surrendered to him, chased away the lingering static of the firehouse.
He watched her lips stretch around him, feeling the tight heat of her throat every time she took him to the root. “That's it, baby” He groaned, his head tipping back against the leather chair, the tension finally beginning to unravel in his spine.
He let out a low, rumbling growl as she swallowed around him, the muscles of her throat contracting tightly. “So pretty like this” He cooed breathlessly, voice thick with satisfaction and affection.
Then his cock twitched against her tongue, getting closer. She could taste his precum, salty and familiar. He was right on the edge, balanced there by how good her mouth felt and how much he needed this release after such a hard night. His grip on her hair tightened possessively.
“I'm gonna come down your throat, sweetheart” He warned roughly, hips starting to move in shallow thrusts, fucking her mouth gently. She moaned around him, the vibrations making his eyes roll back. “Fuck, just like that.. take it all…”
With a final deep thrust, he came undone. “Shit...” He hissed as he released, filling her mouth completely. She swallowed every drop, her tongue lapping at the sensitive head until he was completely spent. He slumped back in the chair, panting heavily.
He slowly opened his eyes, his chest raising and falling with each heavy breath. His hand slackened its hold in her hair, gently guiding her up to meet his level. Leaning forward, he cradled her face in both hands and brushed away the mess at the corner of her lips.
“You're too good to me” He said, catching his breath as he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to her forehead. “Thank you, angel”
“anything for my captain” she was too tired for the usual smugness she often threw at him.
He hummed softly, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his lap. He just needed to hold her for a moment, to remind himself that there were good things in his life too. That he wasn't just the captain, the leader, the one who had to fix everything. He was also hers - even if it was a secret they kept to themselves.
He smiled softly, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. “You're exhausted, sweetheart. Go to bed” He murmured, pressing another kiss to her forehead before helping her to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her waist and walked her to the door of his office.
“get some rest” she said softly, kissing his cheek.
He watched her until she disappeared into the bunk room, making sure she was safe before turning back to his office. He quickly fixed his clothes, the tension finally drained from his shoulders. The long night didn't seem quite so heavy anymore. He sank back into his chair, the quiet of the office wrapping around him, feeling a little more human than he had hours ago.
