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This is my first time writing this man, hopefully I did it well
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
“You ever have like, fantasies that are kind of embarrassing or some shit? Like, you know you probably shouldn’t be into that kind of shit but that’s almost what makes it appealing to begin with?” Teacake asks you, his face contorted like he’s confused about what he’s asking.
You giggle, turning to him as you kick your feet up over his lap. His hands reach for your ankles instinctively, wrapping around them as he pretends he’s still watching TV. His eyes give him away, pensive and bouncing back and forth.
“What kind of weird porn you been watching, Travie?” you ask with a snort, watching as his lips quirk up and his cheeks redden.
The nickname seems to make him melt a little but he continues, “Nah, it’s not like— okay, it ain’t my fault. It’s them algorithms, pushing you to watch weird shit because you been scrolling too damn long and really, it’s mostly out of boredom and you ain’t even that horny anymore. But that’s how they reel you back in. Boom, crazy shit. Gets you curious and so you click and down the fucking rabbit hole you go.”
“I can’t say I’ve had that experience,” you hum but encourage him to go on, “but that’s okay. Tell me what you were looking at.”
He gets real shy then, “I’m not like, a pervert or anything, ‘kay? I don’t make it a habit of looking at fucked up shit, alright.”
“I believe you,” you say and you mean it. The sex you two have is great, wonderful and the best you’ve had but it isn’t exactly pushing boundaries or tiptoeing the line of kink. Maybe this conversation can lead it that way, however.
“It’s like, alright, shit, okay, it’s technically piss stuff but not like that golden showers, in the mouth weird stuff,” he blurts out, eyes getting wide.
“Wow,” you breathe because that is shocking, definitely not something you’ve ever even thought of. “What kind is it then?”
Teacake sighs, shakes his head a bit like he’s attempting to think before he speaks but really, he isn’t good at that, “Like bladder control stuff. Girls holding it in and squirming around and…” he swallows hard, “making these sounds and shit.”
That’s intriguing, but you have a ton of questions. You purse your lips as you think but he doesn’t wait, can’t have the air empty like that.
“It was weird at first, like, I wasn’t immediately like oh fuck yeah, super into this,” he rants, “I was like yo, what the fuck is this and it has this Japanese name for it but I didn’t even find that out ‘til later. Anyways, I was like what the fuck but I watched a little longer and it got more appealing and my dick got like, really fucking hard.”
You have to stop him so you can ask some questions, so you put your finger to his lips. Make those eyes you make at him when he just won’t shut up and he takes the hint. Nods softly at you as he waits.
“What do you mean by control?” you ask, eyebrow raised.
“Like the girl drinks a ton of water and holds in her pee,” he explains, “which believe me, I know this shit sounds nuts but I just, I don’t know, man, I liked it.”
You hum, happy that he doesn’t continue rambling so that you can inquire further. “And what, the videos are just like the girl alone trying not to pee?”
“Yeah, some of them, a lot of them end up pissing themselves but there’s like other ones where the girls are getting fucked and they have to pee so bad so they’re like squirming and whimpering and shit and…”
You can feel him getting aroused under your calf which makes you laugh, you don’t mean to and it’s not in a cruel way but him just recalling this stuff has him sporting a semi.
“Don’t laugh, jeez!” he groans, tilting his head back.
“I’m not judging you! I promise,” you assure him, “It’s just cute is all. We can explore it, some other time. I’m just really tired today and I don’t have to pee.”
“We can?” he asks, smile returning to his face all bright and wide.
“Sure, Travie,” you lean over to kiss the corner of his lips, “I’ll try anything once for ya. Well… not anything, but lots.”
It gets forgotten for a while. You for sure thought about it for the days following the conversation but Travis didn’t bring it up again and eventually, you did forget about it.
That is until one day.
You woke up and as you were filling your water bottle, he made a comment about making sure you drink all of that. To which you responded that you always do. You’ve been making sure you stayed hydrated, unrelated to his confession.
You did drink it all while you were at work, but when Travis got home, he refilled it for you and brought it to you. Said again, “Make sure you drink all that, sugar.”
“What is up with you today?” you ask, totally oblivious to his true intentions.
“What’cha talking about? Ain’t nothing up with me,” he feigns innocence with his hands up, “just making sure you’re drinking enough.”
You narrow your eyes at him, wondering what he’s up to. But again it gets forgotten as the pair of you cook dinner, yet he’s insistent you keep drinking from the bottle. You feel like you’ve definitely gotten close to finishing it but every time you pick it up, there’s more water. But Teacake is real good at distracting you with his ranting and rambling.
Tells you all about his day and maybe every thought he had while you plate up for dinner. Continues through it and doing the dishes. It’s then you realize you’ve had a lot of water, because the running faucet has you wiggling a little in discomfort. So you say, “Excuse me, gotta pee. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait!” he calls, hand wrapped around your wrist as he looks at you with those big hazel eyes. His blonde hair bobs with the quick movement of him turning to catch you. “Can you hold it for me?”
“Why the fuck do you want me to hold my—“ it hits you then. The realization that Travis has been giving you water all day for this purpose sets in and you giggle as the memory of that conversation floods in. “Oh… that’s why… alright. I’ll uh, try.”
This is going to be harder than you thought. Your bladder is absolutely full, not to a point of pain but slight discomfort. You have to wiggle your leg to find a bit of relief. “I’ll uh, finish up the dishes then.”
Travis groans lowly, puts his hands on your waist as he crowds you from behind. He presses his hips against your ass and kisses against the shell of your ear, “You gotta go real bad, huh? I bet it’s buggin’ you so bad, with the water running, just making you think about how bad you gotta go.”
“Mhm,” you manage out, pressing your thighs together as you struggle to scrub the pots and pans. You were so close to being done with the dishes. You could do it, but you were really wondering how you were going to manage holding it in. And wetting yourself was just not an option, not while you were in the kitchen. “It’s so bad, Travis. Like, genuinely, I don’t know if I can hold it.”
“Baby, babygirl, you can,” he growls against your ear, “I know you can do it for me.”
And you really want to, but it’s proving difficult. He seems to have done his research, his hand dips into the waistband of your pants and his middle finger finds your clit, with some adjustment. But he finds it, kisses against your ear as he rubs slowly against your clit before asking, “That helping at all? Reading about it, some say it helps but some of them say it can make it worse. If it’s making it worse, I’ll stop.”
The thought of him being so into this that he’s online reading about it makes your stomach flip. You love your boyfriend, you want to be able to fulfill any fantasy he has and you might be into this one. You’ll just have to wait and see.
“It’s helping,” you gasp out, squirming between his strong body and the counter. “Fuck, okay… yeah, that helps a lot.”
Travis exhales against you, you can hear the smile in it and even better, you can feel his growing erection against your ass. Which really, makes all of this so worth it.
“Good god, that’s fucking hot,” he mumbles out, “feeling you squirm like that, fuck.”
His voice sends shivers down your spine, always does but this context is a little different. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so desperate, so needy and it’s doing something to you. Makes you squeeze your thighs together for a whole different reason. You trap his hand between your legs and drop the sponge. “Bedroom, Travis, now.”
“Shit, fuck, yes! Okay,” he pulls his hand out from your waistband and rushes towards the bedroom.
You shake your head, waddling your way towards the bedroom and when you get there, Teacake is pulling his shirt over his head and making quick work of his pants. And god, does he look excited. So you let it slide that he practically abandoned you in the kitchen.
“Okay, how do you like want me? I feel like anything but on my back, I’m gonna immediately pee on you and I don’t know if that’s what you’re looking for or—“
“On your back is good, sugar. Want you to hold it ‘til you can’t no more,” he says, rushed, as he begins undressing you. He’s quick to undress you, throwing your clothes on the floor before spinning you and laying you back on the bed. You’re nervous to spread your legs, but he’s pushing the open and getting himself between them. Slaps the head of his cock against your swollen lips like he always does.
You inhale sharply, “Travis, I don’t wanna make a mess on the bed. That’s—“
“Shh, we’ll worry about that later, I gotta be in you like right fucking now, dear god. My dick is so fucking hard, baby. This is so fucking hot,” he rasps out, pushing the tip of his cock through your folds.
Your back arches from the sensation, the uncomfortable feeling in your bladder starts to dissipate momentarily. Travis circles the head of his cock around your entrance, inhaling sharply as he sees proof of how much this is actually turning you on. As he slips into you, the pressure on your bladder makes itself known again and you squeal, squirming a bit as he gets about half way inside.
“What?! What? Not good? Am I hurt in’ ya? I don’t wanna hurt ya, nobody said anything about that part hurting. I guess it makes sense,” he starts, so concerned as he looks down at you with those eyes.
You shake your head, rubbing at his side, “No, didn't hurt. Just hard to hold it.”
He likes that. He must, because he leans down and connects your lips in a feverish kiss. Then he smoothes his hands down your sides, sliding the rest of the way in. He huffs, “Fuck, you feel so good, sugar. That’s so fucking hot, tell me how you feel, wanna know what it’s like. Please.”
That manages to pull a giggle from you, “It’s… different. Uncomfortable but not that bad, kinda makes… well.” It’s your turn to get embarrassed.
“Well, what? Tell me, sugar.”
“It’s almost like, how it feels before I cum. Like the pressure is so intense,” you offer.
“That’s so good, fucking hell. Oh, yeah,” he moans out, working his hips in a slow but steady rhythm. And that does a lot to quell the pressure in your bladder, or maybe it’s just masked as a pressure you’re used to during sex.
Then Travis puts his hand over your bladder, pushes down on it as he fucks you slowly. Your eyes snap shut as you wiggle beneath him, whimpering from the feeling. It’s not pain, not really at all. It’s pretty euphoric even though it’s tortuous. Though, it’s sure taking a lot to not empty your bladder.
“S’that good, baby? Feel good?” he asks, voice in a tone that’s somewhat familiar but way more wrecked than you’re used to. You sure as hell would like to hear it some more.
You squirm some more, which makes Travis speed up his strokes, thrusts even harder.
You’re at a loss for words so you don’t answer him, not verbally. You try to nod but it goes unnoticed because you’re squirming so much. He keeps pressing on your bladder, watching you intensely with his lips parted as you whine, whimper and thrash beneath him. You have to focus, though. You can’t cut his fantasy short. So you look at him, distract yourself as you admire everything physically you love about Teacake.
First, his eyes. Big and round, full of expression at any given moment. Next up, his strong brows, furrowed in pleasure. Your eyes jump up to the grown out roots of his wild, bleached hair. Then down to his neck, where HOWDY is tattooed in likely, ballpoint pen ink. You swipe your finger down it, before resting your hands on his broad shoulders. Feeling them flex as he thrusts in and out. He opens his mouth to speak, and you don’t quite hear it but your eyes follow. Watching them move around the words. That gorgeous mouth, straight square teeth under those pink, plump lips that never stop running. His nostrils flare and that’s where you’re eyes come to next, skating that sharp slope. God, he’s really something else, you think. And it’s worked, you’re thoroughly distracted from the urge to pee.
Until Travis squeezes your side, where your bladder is at while his hips work relentlessly against your core. Reality hits you hard, the sound of your skin meeting fills your ears, along with Teacake’s horny rambling.
“Fuck, you’re squirming so much, shit— that’s, fuck that’s hot, oh God. You’re so good, just holding it in for me, fuck, god, shit, oh my god,” he rambles, voice wavering with how absolutely turned on he is.
And you can’t hold it much longer, really, you try to tell him so but he licks his fingers before pressing them to your clit and works them in circles, exactly how he knows you like. His other hand presses down on your bladder and you’re squealing, head thrown back as your spine arches. It happens, then. You actually piss on him. While he’s fucking you. And it’s timed so perfectly that you reach your climax at the same time. Perhaps from the relief. But it rushes through you like a giant wave crashing against the shore. Your hands find Teacake’s blonde hair, tugging on the tendrils as you seize beneath him.
“Oh, fuuuuck, oh, shit!” you hear him moan out, working you through your orgasm but he quickly moves his hands to grab onto your hips. Works quickly, pumping his cock in and out of you. Chasing an orgasm you’re sure isn’t too far behind.
Teacake pulls out, jerks over your stomach twice before he’s spilling out over it. Cums a lot. You watch in awe, chest heaving from how intense the orgasm you had was. And you’re happy you explored this with him.
He leans down to kiss you, deep and appreciative. You kiss back, though quickly you start to feel very gross and wet. So you push him back a little.
“How’s about we throw these sheets in the wash and hop in the shower?”
“That uncomfortable, huh?” he asks with an exhausted smile.
You laugh and shake your head, “That was amazing, but yeah, starting to feel gross. Hurry up, if you're lucky, I’ll tell you all about the fantasies I’ve been hiding.”
CW: Biting - I use ‘bite’ and ‘giving hickeys’ pretty interchangeably.
Author’s Note: Sorry for going MIA - I finally finished my last year of post-secondary! As I’m getting back into posting, I’ve decided to start with a headcannon list for all my lovely readers.
╰─..★.──────────╯
Laurance, Travis, Dante
Enjoys giving you hickeys
Anytime you give him access to your chest there will be a new hickey (it’s his preferred place to bite)
Would love to leave bites where others can see them but he won’t do it unless you’re okay with it
Never bites you too hard - but always hard enough to make his bites dark and distinct
Always asks you to send him pictures of your chest with the express purpose of seeing the hickeys he’s left on your skin
If the bites are fading he’ll definitely give you new ones the next time he sees you
Also enjoys when you leave hickeys on him, too
Isn’t above asking (and begging) for a hickey or two
Lets you bite him in most places, so long as it isn’t an objectively weird place to leave a mark (forehead, knees, etc.)
If the two of you are together in private, he’ll let you bite him whenever you want to
Just know that unprompted hickeys will probably lead to him getting aroused
Blaze, Garroth
Loves to bite you and give you hickeys
When in a long term relationship with him, there’s hardly a time when he leaves you with less than 3 hickeys on your body
He can’t get enough of his lips on your body (respectfully, of course)
Tends to get carried away when giving you hickeys - especially when he’s leaving bites on your upper thighs
Cuteness aggression cranked up to the max = many, many bites and hickeys
Also loves it when you bite him
You never have to ask before you leave a hickey on him
In fact, he prefers when you bite him unprompted
Absolutely loves when you leave a surprise hickey on his neck
It’s always a good day when you give him hickeys
Gene, Zenix
Likes to, but doesn’t go out of his way to bite you
He doesn’t dislike the idea of giving you hickeys but doesn’t particularly care for it either (outside of the bedroom, that is)
If he knows you particularly like it, he might be more generous with how often he’ll indulge you
He gives in pretty quickly once you genuinely voice your desires for some hickeys
He’ll tease you about it though
Secretly likes when you give him hickeys
He never outright asks you to bite him - he’s far above that
However, that is far from saying he doesn’t like it when you give him hickeys
Occasionally rage baits you into biting him
Will usually let you bite him unprompted so long as you’re not out in public
Vylad, Zane
Doesn’t like to, but will leave you hickeys if you like it
It’s not that he finds it unappealing or childish, he’s just indifferent towards it
If you express clear enjoyment then he will make an effort to leave bites on you - it’s just not on the top of his priorities
He’d much rather cook you a nice dinner or buy you a nice outfit
Still, he’ll always want to give you what you want - even if what you want has him kissing and biting your sensitive skin
Prefers not to be bitten, but will let you if you ask
He doesn’t mind if you bite him gently over his clothes when you’re alone, but if you have intentions to leave a mark then he needs you to let him know
He mostly lets you bite his upper arms and chest, though he’ll occasionally let you bite his thighs if you ask nicely
Occasionally, if he’s in a particularly giving mood, he’ll let you leave as many marks as you want
Later, when he looks in the mirror at what you’ve left him, he’ll be amused - maybe he’ll let you do this to him more often
Ein (With a non-werewolf partner, specifically)
Absolutely loves giving love bites, just not to you
At least, not at first - you’re not a werewolf, after all
Why bother marking his partner if he’s not going to stay? You’re just a means to an end
But he can’t deny how much he loves seeing your skin littered with dark marks from his lips - even if he’d never admit it
If you point out the marks then he'll makes a mental effort to stop, but his efforts only last for so long. He can’t help himself when it comes to you
Does not want to be bitten by you at all
Once again, you’re not a werewolf - don’t go thinking you can leave any hickeys on him
But the one time you do leave a mark, he can’t stop looking at it
He stares, pokes and prods at the mark like a teenager who got their first hickey
It pains him to admit it, but he likes it. Viscerally.
He’ll never, ever, ask you to leave him any marks but he’ll never tell you he doesn’t want them either. It’s up to you to figure out if he actually likes it or not.
summary: you meet travis while working at your local library, and what begins with book recommendations soon turns into a friendship filled with endless debates and lingering glances. neither of you expects things to go any further — until one quiet afternoon between the shelves changes everything.
c/w: strangers to friends to... something else . some plot for more conext. smut (+18). semi-public sex. risk of getting caught. oral sex (m receiving. deepthroating. light gagging). dirty talk, vulgar language. p in v. unprotected sex. orgasm. creampie.
words: 6k
That afternoon was dragging on slowly, the kind of quiet day where the only sounds in the library were the low hum of the street outside and the occasional crisp turn of a page.
You were standing behind the wooden counter, lazily organizing a stack of new books, when the bell above the door chimed. You looked up automatically, adjusting to the sudden shift in the room’s energy.
To be completely honest, your first thought wasn’t exactly welcoming.
You didn’t want to lie to yourself — the moment he stepped inside, you genuinely thought he was going to rob the place. He wore an oversized uniform that looked a bit worn around the edges, his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and he was casting a frantic, darting gaze around the room.
It was the kind of nervous look that usually screamed trouble. He certainly didn’t look like the usual crowd of quiet college students or elderly neighbors who came in to look around the poetry section.
You instinctively straightened your posture, keeping your eyes glued to his movements as he took a few hesitant, shaky steps further into the shop.
But then, he caught you looking; and instead of turning away or darting down an aisle to hide, he walked straight toward the desk.
When he finally spoke, all your defenses immediately crumbled. His voice was soft, carrying a tone so genuinely polite and deeply nervous that a little part of your heart instantly softened.
"Um, excuse me," he said, clearing his throat and looking down at his shoes before meeting your eyes. "I was wondering... could you maybe help me find a good book? A recommendation, I mean. I’m a bit lost."
You blinked, caught entirely off guard by the sharp contrast between his intimidating, defensive posture and his gentle voice.
"Sure, I can absolutely help you with that," you said, offering a small, reassuring smile to ease the obvious tension in his shoulders. "What kind of genre do you usually like to read?"
He blinked back at you, his eyes widening slightly as if you had just asked him to solve a complex mathematical equation.
"G-genre?" he stammered, shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. "Oh. Wow. Okay. To be honest, I’ve never really thought about it like that before. I mean, I know there are a lot of different genres out there, obviously. There’s romance, history, mystery, biography... but I’ve just never stopped to ask myself, ‘Hey, what genre do you actually like?’ You know? It’s kind of a big question when you think about it. I like a lot of random things, I guess. But then again, maybe there’s something I absolutely hate? Probably—"
He was talking faster and faster, his words tripping over one another as his hands came out of his pockets to gesture wildly in the air. You couldn’t help but realize right then and there that he was one of those people. The kind of person who gets so incredibly nervous or excited that they just keep talking and talking, and you have to physically step in to stop them before they go on for hours.
It was almost endearing.
"How about horror?" you asked, gently cutting him off with a soft, amused laugh.
He stopped mid-sentence, his mouth staying slightly open for a second before his brain fully processed your words. He tilted his head, genuinely thinking it over.
"Horror?" he repeated, the tension leaving his face. "Yeah. Yeah, actually, I like horror. That sounds pretty good."
You smiled and walked out from behind the safety of the counter, stepping into the narrow aisles of the library. The space between the tall, wooden bookshelves was tight, making every movement feel just a bit more intimate.
You turned your head back over your shoulder, gesturing for him to follow you. He nodded quickly and, with a slightly clumsy scramble, stepped right into place behind you.
You could feel his physical presence just a step away. He was tall, and his frame made the narrow aisle feel even smaller than it usually did. The air between you felt a bit charged, a strange but not unpleasant tension growing as you guided him deeper into the shadows of the fiction section.
"Let’s see what we have here..." you murmured, running your fingertips lightly along the dusty spines of the books.
The familiar texture of paper and leather usually calmed you down, but right now, you were acutely aware of him watching your every move. You could hear his quiet breathing right behind you.
Suddenly, a loud, heavy sound broke the silence of the place.
You jumped slightly and spun around.
A thick book was lying flat on the floorboards between the two of you. He was already frantically bending down, his face flushing a soft crimson that reached all the way to his ears.
He picked up the book with trembling hands and shoved it back onto the shelf. He didn’t even check if it was the right spot before burying his hands deep into his uniform pockets again, looking exactly like a kid who had just been caught breaking a valuable vase.
"I’m sorry."
You had to bite the inside of your cheek to contain a genuine smile.
His sudden embarrassment was incredibly sweet, completely shattering any lingering awkwardness or suspicion you had left.
You reached past him, your shoulder brushing lightly against his, and pulled a specific book from the top shelf. You turned and extended it toward him.
"Try this one," you said softly. "It has horror, suspense, a bit of science fiction... a little bit of everything, really."
He cautiously took his hands out of his pockets and accepted the book from you. As his fingers brushed against yours, a small, sudden jolt of awareness ran through your veins.
He held the book up to his face, scanning the cover and frowning slightly as he took in his first impression.
"The Body Snatcher," he read the title out loud. His voice trailed off, a highly skeptical look appearing on his face. He looked up at you. "A bit creepy, don’t you think?"
You shrugged your shoulders playfully, leaning back against the sturdy bookshelf and crossing your arms.
"Well, if it’s a bit too much for you, I can always take you over to the children’s section," you teased, dropping your voice to a whisper. "They have some really great picture books over there. Very safe."
He looked up from the cover, and a wide, genuine smile broke across his face. You couldn’t deny it — from the very first moment he smiled, it had a strange, indescribable effect on you. Your stomach did a sudden little flip, and the small aisle suddenly felt much warmer than it had a few minutes ago.
"No, no," he laughed softly, holding the book a bit tighter against his chest. "I’ll take this one. If it’s okay with you, I mean."
"Perfect," you replied, leading the way back to the front of the library and stepping behind the desk. "I hope you enjoy it, uhm..." You paused intentionally waiting for him to fill in the blank.
"Travis," he said quickly, reaching across the counter and extending his right hand toward you.
"Travis," you repeated. The name fitted him perfectly. You smiled, telling him your own name as you reached out to take his hand.
His grip was warm and firm, but instead of a quick, polite business shake, your hands stayed joined a second longer than necessary. Neither of you seemed to want to break the contact first. Travis’s smile widened, a soft, knowing look appearing in his eyes that made your heart beat just a bit faster.
"I’ll see you in a month, then," you said, finally letting go of his hand, though you already felt the sudden absence of his warmth. "That’s usually how long it takes people to finish that one."
"I’ll probably be back around here way before that," Travis replied smoothly, his eyes locked onto yours with a newfound confidence.
You nodded, a sudden wave of happy anticipation washing over you.
"Deal."
"Deal," he repeated with a final nod. With a lingering wave, he turned around and walked toward the exit.
Your eyes followed him every single step of the way. You watched him push open the door, the bell chiming once more as he stepped out onto the busy sidewalk. The very moment the door clicked shut behind him, you let out a long, heavy sigh, only just realizing that you had been holding your breath the entire time.
—
These days, the book discussions between the two of you have become a regular habit.
"I just don’t know if I really get the motive, you know?" Travis has been talking for twenty minutes straight about Frankenstein, the book you recommended to him just last week.
You hold out your hand, and he smoothly passes you a heavy hardcover volume, his large, calloused fingers securing the base of the wooden rolling ladder while you climb up a few steps to slide it back into its proper place on the high shelf.
This has become your routine. Every single Friday, right before he starts his night shift at the local storage facility, he walks through the front doors of the library to pick up a new recommendation.
He took his sweet time reading the first books.
But lately? He devours them faster and faster, his reading speed accelerating until it becomes completely impossible not to see him crossing that threshold at 5:00 PM sharp, eyes scanning the room until they land on you, eagerly waiting for his next acquisition.
"What exactly is it that you don’t understand?" you ask him, looking down from the ladder and extending your hand again to silently ask for another book from the pile.
Travis shrugs his broad shoulders, turning around slightly to grab the next book and handing it up to you. As the physical exchange happens, your fingers brush against his. The contact lasts for only a second, but a sudden spark of heat shoots straight up your arm.
"I don’t know. The why of it all," he mutters, crossing his thick arms over his chest and leaning his weight back against the side of the ladder.
The way the material of his uniform stretches tightly across his broad chest and biceps whenever he moves is the kind of sight that, if you stare or think about it for too long, makes a deep blush creep up your neck.
"Why create the monster in the first place? Why go through all that trouble just to abandon it?"
You smile, shaking your head gently as you slide the book into its perfect, tight slot on the shelf.
"You lack ambition, Travis."
He frowns, his dark eyes intently tracking the subtle movements of your body as you begin your descent down the wooden steps of the ladder.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
When your feet finally touch the solid linoleum floor, your body is positioned directly in front of him. The space between you is incredibly small, close enough that you can smell his scent.
You shrug your shoulders playfully.
"It’s about power. It’s about feeling like God, even," you murmur. You reach out and grab a fresh stack of heavy books from a nearby cart, your knuckles intentionally grazing against the side of his stomach. "Haven’t you ever wanted to have total, absolute power over something?" you ask him, your voice dropping into a teasing, playful whisper close to his face.
You turn on your heels, your hips swaying just a fraction more than usual as you walk away toward the classic romance section.
Travis stands frozen for a few seconds, his gaze completely locked onto your hips as you walk away from him. He pulls himself away from the ladder, his heavy work boots thudding softly against the floor as he follows you down the narrow, dimly lit aisle of the library stacks.
"I mean... yeah... I guess so," he says, his voice sounding a bit thick, a trace of confusion and growing arousal coloring his tone.
"What do you mean, 'I guess so'?" you ask, turning back to face him and gesturing with your chin for him to pick up another stack of returned books from the bottom shelf to bring along.
He groans softly but complies, bending down. As he does, the hem of his dark work jacket pulls up a few inches, exposing a strip of skin and the dark elastic band of his boxers. He lifts the heavy stack with an effortless grunt, straightening up and following you deeper into the maze of bookshelves.
"I don’t know," Travis mutters, looking down at the books in his arms. "I guess when I was in prison, that was when I felt that need the most. To have control over something. Anything. Over my own life. And I just couldn’t have it."
You let out a soft, sympathetic sound, reaching out to take one of the books from his arms to slide it into a shelf. Travis drops the rest of the stack onto the floor beside his boots.
For a guy who can talk your ear off about anything, he rarely ever mentions his time behind bars. You never want to pry or push him too hard, but you genuinely appreciate the tiny, rare pieces of information he occasionally lets slip.
"Still, sometimes the desperate need for power can lead straight to your downfall," you remark, carefully aligning the spines of the books on the shelf.
Travis lets out a low, appreciative whistle, leaning his back against the opposite bookshelf, his entire body turned toward you, watching your hands work.
"Damn. That’s deep."
You smile, casting a quick glance over your shoulder at him before shrugging.
"But it’s the truth."
He bites his lower lip, trying and failing to hide the broad smile pulling at his mouth, and nodding in agreement.
A comfortable, heavy silence settles between the two of you for a few minutes. The small local library is practically dead, just minutes away from closing up for the night. At this hour, the place is completely deserted. There aren’t even any late-night students lingering around to look for last-minute research books.
Travis shifts his weight, glancing down at his phone. He’s supposed to leave for his shift in about half an hour.
"So..." Travis starts, his voice dropping an octave. He steps closer, his large hand reaching out as his fingers gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He tilts his head down, trying to catch your gaze while you desperately try to focus on organizing the books. "About our date tomorrow..."
You smile, raising your eyebrows as you finally turn your head to look at him.
"You’re calling that a date?"
His brow furrows, though his expression remains thoroughly playful.
"It isn’t?"
You let out a soft laugh. "Travis, you invite me to go to a crowded bar with your friends. That is definitely not a date.
Travis rolls his eyes, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips.
“Oh, come on, you’ve gotta be a little more flexible than that. Things nowadays don’t work like they do in those old books you love so much. What’s it called? Order and Prejudice?”
"Pride and Prejudice," you correct him immediately, reaching out to give his broad shoulder a firm, playful shove.
He laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates right in his chest.
"Whatever. Same difference."
You roll your eyes, turning away to walk toward the next section of shelves.
But his large, warm hands reach out, wrapping firmly around your waist from behind. With a gentle tug, he turns your body completely around to face him.
Startled, you place your palms flat against his chest, feeling the steady thumping of his heart beneath the thick fabric of his uniform.
"Let’s have a date right now, then," he murmurs, his eyes locking onto yours.
You laugh, completely astonished by his sudden boldness.
"What?"
"Yeah. Seriously. Come on," Travis urges, his hands sliding slightly up and down the sides of your waist, over your shirt, swaying you gently from side to side in a tiny, slow-motion dance. "If you don’t think going out with my buddies counts as a real date, then let’s just have our own date. Right here. Right now." His eyes go down to your mouth before snapping back up. "We can order some greasy food, sit on the floor, and just talk..."
You bite your inner cheek to fight back a growing smile, tilting your head to the side.
"Travis, you literally have to go to work."
He clicks his tongue against his teeth, waving his hand in the air as if the job meant absolutely nothing to him.
"I can show up late. Nobody cares over there. That storage is a ghost town and boring as hell. It can survive without its night watchman for a couple of hours."
You place your hands against his chest again, giving him a gentle, firm push to create some distance.
"I already have plans tonight, Travis. I’m sorry."
You turn back around, picking up the final stack of books from the cart and walking toward the isolated, shadowy section at the very back of the library where the last few shelves need to be filled.
Travis lets out a heavy, frustrated sigh.
He rubs his large hands aggressively over his face, his boots scraping against the floor as he storms after you.
"You know, if this is all just because I’m completely not your type, you can just be straight with me and tell me once and for all," he snaps, his voice suddenly losing all its playful warmth, replaced by a raw, biting edge.
You freeze instantly in your tracks.
The book you were about to slide into the shelf remains gripped tightly in your hand, suspended mid-air. You slowly turn around to look at him, your heart hammering against your ribs.
"What?"
Travis lets out a sharp, sarcastic laugh, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as he glares at you.
"It’s fine. Really. I get it. I’m not like those super smart, intellectual college guys who walk through that front door every day. The ones you probably have incredibly deep, fascinating conversations with. I’m not some rich kid with a bright future, either. Hell, I barely managed to get my life back on track after getting out of prison."
He takes a large, aggressive step forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. Your back hits the hard wooden edge of the bookshelf behind you. You are completely cornered, trapped entirely between the solid wall of shelves and the massive, imposing heat of his body.
"But you can’t keep doing this to me," Travis whispers, his voice trembling with a dangerous mix of anger and desperate desire. He leans down, his face inches from yours. "You can’t keep playing this game where you pull me in, get me all twisted up, and then push me away the second I try to get close. It’s driving me completely insane."
You frown, your breath catching in your throat as you stare into his dark, intense eyes.
"I don’t do that..."
A bitter, humorless smile touches his lips. He shakes his head slowly, his warm breath fanning across your cheeks.
When he speaks again, his voice is nothing more than a rough, gravelly whisper right against your skin.
"You know what bothers me the most about that creature in the book?" His eyes drop down to your lips, tracking the way they part slightly. "How fucking pathetic he looks, just begging and searching for a little bit of love."
The air between you feels thick. Your breathing is completely erratic, matching the heavy rise and fall of his chest.
For a long, agonizing second, neither of you say a word. The tension is a living thing, stretching tight enough to snap.
"Whatever," Travis mutters roughly, his eyes darkening with a flash of defeat.
But before he can even begin to pull his body away from yours, your hand shoots out, your fingers wrapping tightly around the collar of his work jacket. With a sudden burst of desperation, you yank him down and slam your lips hard against his.
Travis lets out a low, guttural growl deep in his throat, the sound vibrating directly into your mouth as he reacts instantly. Any trace of hesitation vanished. His large hands fly to your face, his long fingers tangling into your hair as he tilts your head back and kisses you with a raw, bruising hunger.
It isn’t a gentle kiss; it’s a desperate, starved collision of teeth and tongues.
He presses his massive body heavily against yours, pinning you flat against the bookshelf. The wood groans under the shifting weight, and a couple of books rattled on the upper shelves, but neither of you care.
You whimper into his mouth, your hands moving from his collar to grip his broad shoulders, pulling him even closer, if that’s even possible.
His tongue slides deeply into your mouth, claiming you with an aggressive, possessive rhythm that makes your knees completely weak.
He moves one of his legs in between yours, making you ride the hard, thick muscle of his leg as he rocks his hips forward. The unmistakable, rock-hard length of his growing erection presses firmly against your aching center, even through the layers of your clothes.
"Fuck," Travis growls, tearing his mouth away from yours for a fraction of a second to breathe.
His breath is hot and heavy against your wet lips. He drags his mouth down your jawline, his teeth nipping sharply at the sensitive skin of your neck, making you arch your back and gasp loudly into the empty, quiet library.
"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this. How fucking long I’ve dreamed about tearing your clothes off in this place."
"Travis," you gasp out, your fingers digging into the thick muscles of his back. "The doors... someone might..."
He doesn’t even answer, still pressing his lips against your skin, his hands moving down to grip your waist with a bruising pressure, lifting you slightly so he can grind his crotch harder against yours.
He slides his hands underneath your shirt, his rough, calloused palms scraping against your bare skin, sending a violent shiver straight down your spine.
He moves up to cup your breasts through your bra, squeezing the soft flesh roughly, his thumbs flicking hard over your sensitive nipples until you are whining, your head dropping back against the shelf.
The sheer thrill of being caught, combined with the raw, unfiltered dominance Travis is radiating, completely pushes you over the edge. You want him. You need him right now.
Your hands push at his chest, guiding him backwards. His back hits the bookshelves on the other side, and he grips the edge of it to stabilize himself
"So…" you whisper on his lips. His dark eyes flash with an intense, predatory heat. He understands instantly. His gaze locks onto yours as you reach for the waistband of his work trousers. "Is that all the book analysis you have for me today?"
With a swift, heavy tug, you unbuttoned his pants and shoved them and his dark boxers down past his hips. His cock bounces free, completely thick and fully hard now, pulsing with a heavy vein running down the length of it.
It’s massive, glistening with a bead of pre-cum at the thick, red head.
Travis lets out a rough, gravelly groan the second he feels your hand wrap around his cock.
The veins in his neck pop as you slide a little lower, gripping his length tightly from the base. Travis tangles his thick fingers into your hair to anchor himself as he launches into his rant.
"It’s just... seriously, I can’t get over how fucking stupid the guy is," he rasps, his voice dropping an octave and cracking as you kneel down and slowly leave wet kisses on his v-line down his pelvis above the thick pubis hair. "The piece of shit Victor spends months locked up in a lab, playing God, completely obsessed with the idea of creating life... and then when the creature finally opens its eyes... Ah, fuck, right there.. right there, baby!"
You start to suck him with a steady, punishing rhythm from the head of his cock. Travis throws his head back for a second, cutting off his own speech with a dirty groan as your spit completely lubricates his thickness.
He forces his gaze back down at you, his eyes dark with pure lust, completely turned on by the sight of you on your knees, swallowing him whole on the library floor.
"And then..." he continues, his breathing incredibly ragged as your lips slide up and down his length. "The guy sees that the creature is terriying and just runs away like a fucking coward. If you have the balls to create something, you take responsibility for it. You don’t just abandon it just because it doesn't look or acts as you— ohhh, fuck, shit, baby, mmm, fuck, you take me so fucking well."
Your mouth swirls tighter around him, making his entire body shudder.
Travis gently tugs your hair back, forcing you to release his cock by just an inch — just enough so he can catch his breath and keep cursing the damn scientists.
"The creature wasn’t born evil, you know? They made him evil by constantly rejecting him. The guy just wanted a shot, someone who wasn’t terrified of him, f—"
His voice completely breaks as you shove him deeper into your mouth again, swirling your tongue aggressively around his sensitive skin.
"Holy shit"
Travis can’t hold onto the thread of his analysis anymore. The blinding heat of your mouth is driving him insane, erasing any trace of logic as his hips begin to unconsciously thrust against your lips, completely surrendering to the pleasure.
His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you in place.
"Fucking look at you." Travis moans out, "Do it. Take it."
You don’t hesitate.
You lean forward, opening your mouth wider, trying to take him completely. Travis lets out a loud, ungodly groan, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. His thighs tremble as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and suck him down into your throat as deeply as you could manage again.
"Oh, fuck, yes," he gasps, his knuckles turning white as he grips your hair, guiding the rhythm of your head, throwin his own head back. "Suck it, baby. Eat my cock."
The language is dirty, completely stripping away the polite, quiet atmosphere of the library; and it turns you on completely.
You swallow him deeper, your nose burying into his pubic hair, the heat of his skin enveloping your face.
You let your teeth graze slightly against him, and Travis lets out a sharp, ragged curse, his hips thrusting heavily against your mouth, forcing himself deep into your throat until you gagged softly.
"Fuck, sorry, sorry," he pants, though his grip on your hair doesn’t slacken. He looks down at your face, your eyes watering slightly from the depth of his cock in your throat, your lips glistening with his spit.
The sight completely breaks his remaining restraint.
He pulls away from your mouth with a wet, sticky pop.
Before you can even stand up, Travis grabs you under your armpits, moving your body off the floor with effortless, terrifying strength. He spins you around, slamming your front flat against the bookshelf.
"Lean down." he orders roughly, his voice trembling with an overwhelming urge to possess you.
You place your hands flat against the wooden shelves, knocking a small stack of paperbacks to the floor as you bent over, pushing your hips back towards him. You feel his large, rough hands grab the hem of your jeans and underwear, sliding them down past your thighs in one violent, impatient motion. The cool air of the library hits your bare ass, but a second later, the intense, radiating heat of Travis’s body presses flat against your back.
He reaches down between your legs, his thick fingers finding your dripping, soaked folds. He spreads your own slick juices all over your clit and down across his aching, throbbing cock.
You whimper loudly, your fingers digging into the wood of the shelf until your nails click against the varnish.
"You’re so fucking wet for me," Travis whispers in your ear, his teeth sinking into the sensitive meat of your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. "Tell me what you want."
"Please, fuck me. Put it in." you cry out, your voice echoing softly in the dark, empty aisles.
"I’m going to ruin you right here," he growls.
He guides the thick, pulsing head of his cock against your soaking wet entrance and with one brutal, heavy thrust of his hips, he buries himself completely inside you.
The size of him stretches you wide, filling you so well that a loud, high-pitched scream left your throat. Travis immediately slams his large hand over your mouth, muffling the sound as he pins your upper body down against the shelf.
"Shh... quiet, baby. Remember where we are," he whispers, a wicked smirk in his voice, even as his breath hitches from the tight, crushing warmth of your pussy gripping his lenght. "God, you’re so tight."
He begins to move, pulling nearly all the way out until only the tip remains, before slamming back into you with a heavy, wet thud.
The raw, explicit sound of his thighs hitting against your bare ass cheeks echoes loudly through the classic novels section. He doesn’t pace himself. He fucks you with a feral, frantic speed, his heavy body battering against yours over and over again.
Every single thrust pushes you forward against the shelf, the books shifting and scraping against the wood. You bite down hard on his palm to keep from screaming out as his cock hits your cervix repeatedly, sending waves of intense, hot pleasure straight to your core.
The friction is incredible, the heat building between your legs until it feels like you are going to combust.
"Look at how you’re taking it," Travis pants, removing his hand from your mouth to grip your waist, his thumbs digging into your hips to hold you steady while he absolutely hammers himself into you from behind. "Look at what a good little slut you are for the ex-con. You love this dirty shit, don’t you?"
"Oh God, Travis." you sob out, no longer caring if anyone hears you. Your head rolls on your shoulders, your vision blurring with tears of pure pleasure. You arch your back, tilting your pelvis up to give him deeper access, your wet walls clamping down around his thick dick with every single stroke.
"Fuck, you’re squeezing me so hard," Travis groans, his pace becoming completely erratic, harder and faster, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
He grabs your hips, turning you around easily. You quickly wrap one leg around his hips, and your arms around his neck, not wanting to be apart from him a second longer.
He grabs under your leg, keeping you in place as he slides inside you again.
Your moans and uneven breaths mix together as your faces get closer. He kisses you messily while his hips trust against you in an uncoordinated rhythm now.
"I’m so close. I’m gonna come inside you. I’m gonna fill you up right in the middle of this fucking library."
The announcement, delivered in his rough, vulgar tone, triggers something deep inside you. Your internal muscles contract violently as a massive, shattering orgasm rips through your body. You shake all over, your hands losing their grip on his neck as your head falls back, your throat letting out a strangled, breathless cry of release. He wraps his arm around to help you to keep your balance.
Feeling your pussy pulsing violently around his cock, Travis lets out a loud, feral roar.
He delivers three more brutal, bottoming-out thrusts, burying himself as deeply as physically possible inside you, and freezes. His entire body locks up, his muscles turning rock-hard against you as he shoots his thick, heavy torrent of hot semen deep into your womb. He holds himself deep inside you, his hips twitching as he pumps load after load into your pulsing body, groaning loudly against the back of your neck.
For several long seconds, the only sound in the library is the ragged, heavy breathing of the two of you.
Slowly, Travis pulls his cock out of you with a soft, wet sound. A mixture of his cream and your own juices immediately begin to drip down the inside of your thigh. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely stand, but Travis’s strong arms are right there, catching you and pulling you flush against his chest.
He looks at you, and his fingers brush your hair behind your ear.
You both chuckle nervously and you bite your lower lip.
He opens his mouth to say something, when the front door bell chimes.
“Hello?” the voice of a young guy sounds through the walls of the library.
Panic hits both of you at the exact same time. In a single second, you go from pure ecstasy to a desperate race against the clock.
Between muffled whispers and hushed curses, you both start dressing at lightning speed behind the very last bookshelf. Travis yanks up his boxers and the heavy trousers of his uniform in one violent tug, while you frantically adjust and smooth out your own clothes, praying to God that you don’t look completely wrecked.
You quickly wipe your mouth with the back of your hand to clear away any trace and take a deep, shaky breath, desperately trying to piece back your professional composure.
"Yes, I’m coming!" you call out, your voice a little higher than usual, as you step out of the dark aisle and into the bright light of the main counter.
Waiting there is a young college student with a heavy backpack slung over his shoulder and a face that looks like he hasn’t slept in three days. He’s holding a crumpled piece of paper with the name of an economics manual.
With your hands still trembling slightly from the adrenaline, you smile at him as if absolutely nothing happened, look up the book in the system, and guide him to the correct section.
As you are handing the book to the student and checking it out, heavy, familiar footsteps announce Travis walking out from the back of the library. He already has his jacket zipped up and his hair lazily thrown into place with his fingers, but the expression on his face is one of pure satisfaction.
He walks slowly toward the exit, passing right by the front desk. He stops for a brief second, leaning his broad frame against the wooden counter, and locks his dark, deeply amused eyes onto yours. The college student doesn’t notice a thing, far too focused on shoving the heavy textbook into his backpack.
Travis leans in just a fraction closer, winking at you with a broad, lazy grin, and whispers in a tone meant only for you:
"Thanks for the date. See you tomorrow at the non-date."
You roll your eyes dramatically, pretending to be thoroughly annoyed while your cheeks burn a bright, furious crimson.
But as you watch him push open the heavy glass door and disappear into the cool night air, you can’t stop a smile from breaking across your lips.
⭑ para juani juanita juana⭑
⋆⭒˚.⋆ likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated !! thank you for reading. ⋆⭒˚.⋆
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Summary: When you find out Travis has been arrested, you rush to see him.
Warnings: Angsty but idk if it's like full angst (I have no sense of how angsty something is it all makes me sad)
This is super short, I wanted it to be a full fic but it's more of a blurb ig. Also I know cupcake is a cringy ass pet name but it wouldn't be Travis without a cringy name and I think cupcake would be cute (because he's called teacake, duh)
"What!?" You yell into the phone. Travis has just called you from the police station. He only got out 'I'm at the station. I... I got arrested.' before you hung up the phone and ran out to the car.
You speed the entire way to the police station (probably not the best idea), your breathing uneven as you park your car.
You practically run up to the front desk, your hands on the marble and your eyes wide.
"I'm-- I'm looking for a Travis. Uh, Travis Meacham. He called me and said he was--" The lady stands, leading you towards a hallway and to a door. She opens it up, and Travis is inside, handcuffed. At least his hands aren't behind his back, they're just in his lap.
The room seems to be some sort of waiting room. There's a little desk where an officer is sitting, a look of pity in his eyes. There are small holding cells that are empty, and a few benches around the walls.
Travis is sitting on one of those benches, his head hung low.
"Travis! Travis, what did you do!?" You're on the verge of tears, cupping Travis' cheeks and sitting beside him on the bench.
"Y/N... You came..." He whispers, his big eyes almost shocked.
"Of course I came. I can't-- I just-- Travis, what happened?" You let out a shaky breath, your tears filling up with fat tears.
"I uh-- I... Fuck, he told me to wait in the car while he ran into the store and he came back and he told me to drive and I... I just did. And then I saw the lights and I heard the sirens and I just kept driving. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry."
"Why?" The tears begin to fall, your breathing quicker now. "Travis, you're not like that." You cry, your hands resting on Travis' shoulders.
"I don't know, cupcake. I-I just. I know I get talked into things easily and I just fucking-- I'm so stupid. Please don't cry. Don't cry." He whispers, trying to reach up to hold your face, but remembering he's cuffed, he sighs. "Hey, man, can I just get these off. I haven't resisted or anything. Please, man. I just wanna help her."
The officer gives a look of pity, then looks at the scene in front of him. He sighs, stands up, and unlocks the handcuffs. Travis immediately reaches up to cup your face, wiping away your tears.
"Travis. Baby, I can't-- How long will he get?" You look up at the officer, tears wetting your face and your bottom lip shaking.
"It depends on the judge, the jury, all that. Usually, I see around 1-3 years for getaway drivers who had no other relation to the crime other than driving." The man says, letting out a deep sigh.
"One to-- Holy shit! Travis, no, no, no, no. When-- When can I pay bail?" You ask the officer, but you don't look away from Travis. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, his eyes filling with his own tears.
"You--" The officer starts, but Travis cuts him off. "No. No matter what bail is, you're not paying it. You're not spending your well-earned money on your jagoff boyfriend. I'll serve whatever I need to."
"No. Travis, please." Travis' comfort has done nothing to help you, your sobs now wracking your body. You wrap your arms around his neck, and his hands find your waist.
"It'll be alright. No matter what happens, we'll be okay." He whispers in your ear, pressing kisses to your head.
"Why'd you do it, T..." You sob against him, a hand reaching down to weakly slap at his chest.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, cupcake." He gently strokes your hair, before the officer begrudgingly taps his shoulder.
"We've uhm... We gotta get your prints and photos, then questioning. I'm sorry, ma'am, but you're gonna have to go." The officer truly does sound like he wishes he didn't have to split you up.
"I love you, Travis. I'll see you any chance I can." You try to make your voice sound how it's supposed to, but it shakes and cracks.
"I love you, too, Y/N. I love you so much. Go home, get some sleep." He sighs, knowing you likely won't get any sleep because, well, how could you?
You squeeze his hand softly as you stand, before walking away as Travis stands up.
You give each other one last longing look before you walk out of the room.
So I sorta wanna write like a bunch of fics, like while he's in prison and then when he gets released but I want to see what people think about this first. ALSO I want to watch Fargo for the sole purpose of writing for Gator because he's just such a dickhead and I want to put him in his place
Summary : A waitress living an ordinary life with her ordinary boyfriend never expected a regular customer to change everything. As debt, desperation, and impossible choices begin to close in around her, the line between kindness and obsession starts to blur.
Some people save you. Some people ruin you.
Sometimes they're the same person.
Pairing : Travis × Fem!Reader
Warnings/Tags : Smut, MDNI, Angst, Dark Romance, Criminal Underworld, Gangster Travis, Drug Dealer Travis, Drug References, Debt, Loan Sharks, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Possessive Travis, Obsessive Love, Corruption Arc, Cheating, Infidelity, Financial Struggles, Mutual Attraction, Life-Changing Decisions, Emotional Damage, Toxic Relationships, The Villain Gets The Girl, Pure Chaos, Morally Grey (let me know if I missed anything!)
Word Count : 6.4k
Working as a waitress at a restaurant on the outskirts of LA, the words I heard most often weren't "Excuse me" or "Check, please." It was, "What do you even see in your boyfriend?" To those who knew about my relationship with Jake, we were asked this question countless times. Every time, I gave the same answer: "He’s nice." It was a cliché answer, but it was the truth.
I didn't have any traumatizing guy problems or daddy issues, but as someone who utterly loathed men who were overbearing and despised the weak, my boyfriend was the best man I could ask for. If I had to describe him in colors and scents, he was closer to colorless and odorless. He had a name so common that if you called it out on any LA street, one in three guys would turn around, and most people found him downright boring. There wasn't much excitement in our life together, even in bed. Whenever I had to explain our relationship to someone, the word that always came to mind was ordinary. We dreamed of a very ordinary future. Though I only started the part-time job to make a living, as my hourly wage went up, the extra cash steadily piled up in my bank account under the guise of our wedding fund. We would probably live a life where we raised a single dog in a small house, holding hands as we went grocery shopping every weekend. That kind of future was more than enough for me. I always believed that happiness was never anything grand anyway.
As usual, I was serving tables, thinking about what my boyfriend and I would do later. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a man standing like a massive tree near the restaurant entrance. Seeing the front stand empty, it looked like the maître d' had stepped away for a moment. I hurried toward the entrance to greet him.
While it wasn't an ultra-luxury fine dining spot, the customers who came here usually had a specific purpose—a business meeting, an anniversary, or a date. Naturally, everyone tended to dress neatly and look a bit uncomfortable. Because of that, the man standing at the entrance stood out even more. He wore a black sweatshirt, moderately baggy black pants, and worn-out sneakers. Beneath his handsome face, a thin gold chain necklace gleamed casually, and his neck and exposed backs of his hands were covered in tattoos. The man glanced around, and the moment our eyes met, I flinched involuntarily. Showing any raw emotion while greeting a guest was practically a sin in this industry, but before I could even apologize, the man smiled as if he was entirely used to this or didn't mind at all. It was a charming, endearing smile that you couldn't help but like, but the gaze looking down at me felt oddly chilling.
"Hi. Sorry about that. Do you have a reservation?"
"No, I'm just waiting for someone."
The man's voice matched his boyish, playful face perfectly. I gave a slight nod and walked away. That was how my connection with Travis began. After that day, he started showing up at the restaurant frequently. It turned out he was the older brother of Zee, who worked as a kitchen hand. The reason everyone except me—who had been working there for a year—already knew about him was because he had just been released after serving an 18-month prison sentence.
The fact that he had done time, along with his handsome face and the heavy tattoos covering his thick neck, made it obvious he was no ordinary character. Yet, seeing how well he got along with the staff here and his occasional gentle demeanor, I began to think I had just been viewing him through a prejudiced lens. Travis melted right through my walls, which were usually quite strict when it came to letting people in, and he did it so effortlessly. "That's the third time today," he said, picking up an order sheet I had dropped. When I looked at him in surprise and asked if he had been watching, he replied, "I've been watching you the whole time." For some reason, my face flushed with embarrassment, and he just laughed. Despite the noticeable age gap between us, within just a few weeks, we were acting like childhood friends who had known each other forever.
"So you have a clumsy side too, huh?"
"I hear that a lot. Didn't you know? Even after over a year, I still do this sometimes."
"But you always work so hard." Praise makes a person weak, and I was no exception. His subtle, well-timed compliments and playful words strangely put me in a great mood. As the frequency of our conversations increased, I felt myself opening my eyes to a completely new world. I used to think there could be no better man than my boyfriend, but it didn't take long to realize that belief came from living in a very small world. Travis wasn't as stubborn as my boyfriend, and he was an incredible listener. Since he was older than both me and my boyfriend, it might have been a natural dynamic, but he was far more mature than he looked. Travis and I shared almost identical opinions on everything, and on the rare occasions we disagreed, he was almost always the wiser one. Whenever I couldn't hide my amazement, he would simply shrug and say, "I'm a lot older than you. When you get to my age, you'll be way wiser and smarter than me." Before I knew it, I was looking forward to every conversation we had.
He was a man who didn't talk much about himself, and I was a woman who didn't pry. Everyone has their reasons, and everyone has things they'd rather keep private. Despite his intimidating impression, I genuinely thought he was a good person. Someone who looked terrifying but was surprisingly gentle; someone who had clearly lived a rough life but wasn't fundamentally bad. Before I knew it, he had read right through me, and strangely, I liked the fact that he knew me so well.
Looking back, that was the moment everything started to unravel. I was sitting behind the restaurant with Travis, eating a burrito bowl he had bought for me. In the middle of laughing over some trivial chat, he quietly called my name and asked if I had a boyfriend. I paused, trying to remember if I had ever mentioned Jake to him before, and then replied that I did. He lifted his head and stared at me for a moment. It was only a fleeting second, but oddly, that moment felt stretched out and heavy. "I see," he said.
"I figured you did."
He smiled innocently, and I laughed along with him. Just then, Jake came bursting through the restaurant's back door. He was supposed to be off today and meeting a friend, but there wasn't a single trace of ease on his face. He rushed over, urgently saying we needed to talk alone for a moment. It was Travis, not my boyfriend, who defused the awkward tension of the sudden situation. Shrugging, Travis coolly picked up my empty bowl along with his and stepped away without hesitation, leaving me stranded in confusion with a visibly panicked Jake. His hands were shaking as he grabbed my shoulders.
The story was that Jake had co-signed a loan for a business started by a close friend from middle school, but the friend had vanished into thin air, leaving Jake with a staggering amount of debt. What Jake hadn't known when he signed the papers was that his friend had been borrowing money from far more than banks. Hearing these revelations for the first time from the man I had planned to marry was utterly shocking, and it shattered everything I thought I knew. I asked him why on earth he hadn't consulted me sooner, but there was no use crying over spilled milk now. The arrow had already left the bow, and it was hurtling straight toward us.
Jake was being hounded by collection calls dozens of times a day. At first, we thought it was just banks and lenders. Then we learned some of the debt had changed hands more than once, eventually ending up with people who weren't exactly in the lending business. After that, Jake started acting like a dead man walking.
We tried to scrape together every penny we had to clear the debt quickly. But the sheer scale of his liability was too massive; even draining the entire wedding fund we had saved wasn't anywhere near enough. It didn't take long to realize that the boyfriend I had thought was just nice was actually incredibly foolish and reckless. To put out the immediate fire, he went behind my back again and took out money from loan sharks, causing the situation to spiral entirely out of control. By the time I snapped out of it, I had lost the man I loved, all the money we had ever saved, and now, even his personal safety was under imminent threat.
Even though I felt heartbroken and resentful, seeing him break down and hold me while sobbing apologies made it impossible for me to push him away. Maybe I had a savior complex. I wanted to drag him out of this hellhole at all costs, and that agony was laid bare across my face and my daily life.
My coworkers, who knew about the mess Jake and I were in, looked at the deep dark circles carving under my eyes and offered some advice. "Ask Travis for help." Hearing those words, I finally realized just how naively innocent I had been all along. Travis was involved in things just as dangerous as the aura he exuded, and his prison stint was closely tied to his line of work. When I eventually found out that he was a notorious, high-ranking member of a local gang and a big-time drug dealer, I was seized by a cocktail of terror and a bizarre curiosity. The reason he always acted so relaxed, as if he had absolutely nothing to fear, was because he was the apex predator of this territory. While everyone who knew Travis described him as a terrifying figure, their voices didn't carry dread or hostility; instead, they held affection, comfort, and deep trust. It was as if the brutal world he inhabited had absolutely no bearing on ordinary people like us.
Clutching at straws, I finally reached out to Travis. He readily agreed that he could introduce us to people who could help, but he hesitated. He wasn't worried about his own position; he was genuinely worried about me and my boyfriend. He explained that there were people who could restructure the debt under far better conditions and stability than our current nightmare, but because they operated entirely outside the law, failing to pay them back properly would guarantee a future far worse than this one. I claimed to believe in Jake’s work ethic, but Travis didn't. While admitting he didn't know Jake well, he confessed with brutal honesty that among the men who let things get this disastrously bad, he had never once seen one successfully clear their debt without a horrific catch. Travis was sincerely worried about what would happen to me if I stayed by Jake's side, but I simply couldn't let go of his hand.
Once he heard the whole proposition, Jake bit the hook without a second thought. I connected him with Travis, and for a while, Jake could actually sleep with his legs stretched out for the first time in months. But the fragile peace we'd borrowed began to crumble again within months. Jake began to struggle with repaying even the vastly reduced loan amounts, and the discovery that he had turned to gambling for a quick fix entirely shattered me.
Now, because of this foolish man's actions, the safety of everyone around him—including his family and myself—was actively threatened. I knew it was incredibly shameless, but as a friend, I wanted to beg Travis one last time. To tell him I was so sorry for failing to live up to the precious lifeline he had thrown us, but to please help just once more. In response, he told me to come over to his house.
Listening to the whole sordid story, Travis didn't reprimand or mock me for treating his warnings so lightly. Instead, he simply dialed a number. He asked the person on the other end exactly how much my boyfriend owed, and after hanging up, he rubbed his jaw in thought. He coolly stated that while Jake's debt was an astronomical figure, he could pay off the entire balance, interest included, out of his own pocket. But then he delivered a sharp reality check: even between friends, there has to be a quid pro quo—a give and take. Since any money I had would rightfully go toward bailing out my boyfriend, he threw the ball back into my court, asking what I was willing to offer. It was then that he laid bare the romantic, carnal interest he had been harboring all this time, proposing that I spend the night with him.
The revelation that he'd wanted me for a long time, coupled with the calculating method and timing of his confession, left me thoroughly shaken. But what unhinged me the most was that while he completely respected and understood my relationship with my boyfriend, he was deliberately offering me a choice to betray him to save him. "I have no intention of forcing a woman I like," Travis said.
"Some people only wake up when they have nowhere left to turn and get hit hard. You've done more than enough. Stop torturing yourself and reclaim your life. It's not a peaceful death, but dying like this might actually be the only way to preserve whatever dignity he has left."
Travis was utterly convinced that the loan sharks would end up killing Jake, and I was so overwhelmed I didn't know what to do.
"Maybe it's only one night. Maybe you walk away tomorrow and never look back. But I really need you to stop destroying yourself for a man who's determined to destroy himself."
Hearing his tone, which sounded so genuinely concerned for my well-being, I began to get confused. Was he making this offer because he wanted me, or was it a desperate, heavy-handed move to stop me as a friend? Untangling these emotions brought an inexplicable rush of tears to my eyes, and he reached out, gently wiping them away. His hot, tender fingers brushed across my cheek.
The moment his hand fell away, I pulled my t-shirt over my head, leaving me in nothing but my bra. Travis fell utterly silent. He was staring at me, but I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye. I stood up, unbuckled my jeans, and finally sat back down, perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed in nothing but my underwear. Unable to control the violent trembling of my body, I stared fixedly at the floor and whispered that I could go wash up first if he wanted. The words had barely left my mouth before he took a commanding step toward me.
His mouth violently slammed into mine, swallowing my lips whole. Seized by a bizarre obstinacy that I absolutely couldn't kiss a man I didn't love, I jerked my head aside and clamped my mouth shut. Travis didn't force the kiss; instead, he dragged his mouth down my neck, lingering at my collarbone and shoulders as though he couldn't get enough of me. Driven back until I hit the bed, I fell backward onto the mattress. While he pulled his layered t-shirts over his head, I dropped to my knees before him, unbuckling his belt to pleasure him. My hands were shaking so violently that a completely bare-chested Travis immediately halted my movements, pulling me back up to sit on the bed. If anyone saw the state of my face right then, they would think I hadn't consented to this encounter at all. Travis gently stroked my hair.
"Hey, hey. You just need to enjoy it."
I could feel his breath hitch into a dry chuckle at my stubborn refusal to let him kiss me. He smoothly worked his way down my body, mapping every inch with soft touches, unhooking my bra with one hand and sliding my panties off, leaving me entirely defenseless. Settling between my thighs, his face moved without a shred of hesitation to press against my most intimate flesh. The gentle foreplay that felt so incongruous with the situation instantly shifted into something predatory and primal. At first, I endured it by lying back and gripping the crumpled sheets, but soon, while my toes curled reflexively, I found myself desperately trying to push his head away. As his tongue aggressively sucked at my tenderest skin and swirled deep inside me, my thoughts scattered. Even after I shattered into two consecutive orgasms, he showed absolutely no intention of pulling away. The sheer pleasure—something I had never once experienced with my boyfriend—only amplified my suffocating guilt. Along with a slick, filthy sound, something far thicker and harder than his tongue suddenly pushed inside. Startled, I forced my eyes open, locking eyes with Travis, who was driving two fingers into me while keeping his mouth clamped onto my clitoris. From there, the situation spiraled into something far worse. It wasn't just the physical stimulation; the raw, possessive intensity of Travis’s gaze triggered a massive, violent climax, tearing a scream from my throat that I had never uttered in my entire life.
Utterly shell-shocked by the intensity, I stared blankly at the ceiling, gasping for air, barely aware that Travis was stripping out of the rest of his clothes. I had never imagined a human body could experience that level of sheer ecstasy. My scattered consciousness only snapped back when something thick and rigid, feeling like carved hardwood, pressed firmly against my opening. Travis was hovering over me, looking down at my flushed form, and only then did I realize that the weight resting against my entrance was his length. I wasn't a virgin, but the sheer size of the head alone caused a stretching, alien ache that made me feel like my body was tearing apart. His shaft was vastly thicker than the head. Despite how heavily wet I was, his penis was so disproportionately massive compared to what I was used to accommodating with Jake that it struggled to make entry. Right then, the crushing guilt of betraying my boyfriend and coupling with Travis finally flared back to life. Tears spilled uncontrollably down my face, and I brokenly begged him to put on a condom. I had absolutely no right to make demands, and I knew I was in no position to negotiate, but I pleaded desperately, praying he would show a shred of mercy.
I kept acting selfishly, like throwing a tantrum at him, but his reaction was stunning. He rained soft, tender kisses all over my wrecked face, pulled his hips back from me, and wrapped his arms around me, soothingly patting my back. Instead of getting angry, he actually whispered apologies, trying his best to comfort and calm me down. As my sobbing subsided, he stroked my hair, got up from the bed, and walked back over holding a condom. I knew it was completely delusional given our transaction, but for a split second, it felt as though he and I were lovers deeply in love. For one reckless second, it felt less like a transaction and more like being held by someone who genuinely cared.
Yet, even though I wept and begged, he had no intention of actually stopping. Travis tore open the wrapper, rolled the condom onto his length, and pinned me back down. The messy way he tossed the wrapper onto the floor betrayed a sudden, dark impatience. He aligned his body with mine again, preparing to drive inside. Terrified by the sensation that my lower half was about to be split clean in two, I trembled violently, crying out that it wouldn't fit, but he just let out a relaxed laugh, murmuring that it was fine as he relentlessly forced his weight forward. His patience had finally hit its limit. "I'll go slow," he whispered. His voice was incredibly tender, but the brute force of his penis wedging itself between my thighs felt terrifyingly dominant, sending a jolt of raw fear through me. Despite this not being my first time, welcoming him inside felt utterly terrifying and painful. Ignoring my frantic writhing, he set his hips and plunged deep, forcing me to take him all the way to the very root.
Though my slickness eventually allowed his penis to move smoothly, I remained paralyzed by the shock of being forcefully stretched. He looked down at me with eyes entirely stripped of amusement, and out of sheer humiliation and fear, I did everything I could to avoid his gaze. Soon, Travis’s thumb began to aggressively rub against my clitoris. As his touch moved in heavy, deliberate circles, controlling the pressure, my whimpers began to pitch into high, breathless keens.
Unlike with Jake, where I could easily fake or control my reactions, my body was violently slipping out of my command. Before long, every single time his pelvis slammed flush against my ass, blinding white sparks exploded behind my eyelids, tearing loud, unbidden moans from my throat. Feeling a completely foreign type of climax washing over me, panic set in—I felt myself slipping further and further out of my own control. As his tip repeatedly battered a deep, sensitive spot inside my womb, orgasms crashed over me like tidal waves, shattering my sanity. Through the haze, I caught a glimpse of Travis smiling brightly down at me, but my brain was too foggy to process it.
Once the threshold was crossed, shattering it again was effortless. Having experienced a deep, internal orgasm for the very first time in my life, I was tossed from one climax straight into another, and Travis watched my unraveling with pure, dark amusement. The encounter, which I thought would end after one or two rounds, stretched on endlessly until I completely lost count of how many times I had come.
He growled a few filthy strings of dirty talk in my ear, but my mind was too far gone to comprehend the words. Travis didn't care; he simply kept consuming me. What little consciousness I had left was entirely spent frantically jerking my head away from his invading mouth, desperate to avoid a kiss. "Why do you keep avoiding my mouth?" Finally, his words registered clearly. I felt an absolute, desperate need to answer that specific question. Because a kiss belonged only to someone you loved. As I mumbled my broken explanation, he answered smoothly.
"But we're making love right now, aren't we? Just let it happen. Yeah? I love you."
He kept coaxing me like a needy child, persistently trying to capture my lips. I refused to surrender the absolute last shred of my pride. When I continuously thrashed my head from side to side, rejecting him, he abruptly stopped coaxing. Instead, he flipped our positions, pulling me on top of him just as I was on the precipice of another climax. Though I had peaked in this exact position just minutes prior, after a few thrusts, I realized something had drastically changed. Unlike before, Travis was merely grinding his hips in a slow, agonizingly lazy circle, and my fiercely overheated body began to rapidly cool down.
Already utterly addicted to the pleasure he provided, I desperately began to ride him, violently rolling my hips on his shaft. I frantically squeezed my own breasts and rubbed my clitoris, but it only made me feel wretched. His face bore the coldest, most detached expression I had seen since meeting him. I desperately wanted him to take control again, to violently drag my soul back up to that peak. No matter how hard I worked my hips on my own, I couldn't even get close to the mind-numbing ecstasy he had just been delivering. By now, Jake and any lingering moral code were entirely wiped from my mind. Everything else faded into the background until only Travis remained. Seized by a sudden, terrifying panic that I had angered him with my arrogant, stubborn attitude, tears spilled from my eyes again, but his demeanor remained utterly indifferent. The thought of him looking at me that way again made my chest tighten.
I had no choice but to surrender. I wanted to capitulate, to submit completely to him. When I placed both of my hands against his cheeks, he tilted his head slightly, perfectly mirroring my previous rejection. He was definitely smiling, but that small, mocking gesture—the exact replication of how I had treated him—sliced through me, making me feel deeply wounded and filled with regret. Desperate, I pulled his face down, pressing my lips firmly against his. Travis kept his mouth tightly shut, but I pathetically sucked at his lips, sliding the tip of my tongue along the seam, begging to enter his mouth. He stared at me with an unreadable, piercing gaze, refusing to open up, until I was forced to pull away in utter defeat. Just as the horrific, suffocating realization that I had ruined everything with him began to crush me, Travis let out a bright, dazzling laugh, wrapped a hand around the back of my head, and violently pulled me into a deep kiss.
Our lips parted seamlessly, greedily tangling our tongues together, and the familiar sensation of his mouth wrapping around mine sent me spinning back into oblivion. His hand anchored firmly at the back of my head, his fingers burying into my hair to massage my scalp. The elusive peak that I couldn't reach on my own no matter what I tried was handed back to me instantly, delivered by nothing more than the glide of his tongue and the pressure of his fingertips.
I buckled, twitching and arching against him with shallow, broken whines. "You're so incredibly filthy, you know that?" He pinned me back down to the mattress, violently claiming me all over again. As he drove his hips into me in a relentless rhythm, he continuously whispered into my ear that we were doing these dirty things because we loved each other. Given his initial casual stance of a mere one-night stand, his words made absolutely no sense, but I was completely conquered, utterly incapable of mounting a single defense.
*****
When I finally regained proper consciousness, it was around noon. Waking up to an unfamiliar environment startled me for a brief second, but ridiculously enough, the plush comfort of the blanket tucked securely up to my neck and the familiar, distinct scent of Travis lingering in the sheets instantly grounded me. I sat up and surveyed the room. The space was pristine and organized, but the clothes I had stripped out of the night before were nowhere to be seen.
I called out Travis’s name, but there was no response, not even a rustle of movement. Left with no choice, I allowed myself a quiet moment to look around his bedroom. Hip-hop artist posters in sleek frames dominated one wall, while rows of sneakers, a skateboard, and a surfboard were immaculately arranged on shelves and wall mounts. Along with the profound relief that the nightmare was finally over, a delusional sensation that I had somehow become his girlfriend washed over me—and only then did the crushing reality of Jake’s existence smash back into my brain.
The bizarre tranquility I had been basking in vanished, instantly replaced by a wave of anxiety and dread. I desperately hoped Jake would never find out about last night, terrified for him and knowing he must have been sick with worry about me all night. Hurrying to check my phone, I grabbed the device resting on a nearby side table, and the moment I looked at the screen, my entire world shattered.
There was a single text from Jake. The message was a venomous tirade, branding me a worthless, cheap whore and telling me to never, ever look for him again. I collapsed inward. I didn't even know how to name the tangled web of emotions tearing through me, but I was grieving. Liberation, agony, and suffocating guilt bled into one another. How he had discovered what happened between me and Travis didn't even matter. While I understood the profound betrayal and agony he must be feeling, a fierce, white-hot anger flared up inside me because all the selfless sacrifices and struggles I had endured by his side had been reduced to absolute garbage. Had I really made such a horrific choice? Did he ever stop to think about what my heart was going through? I knew I could never justify my actions, but the sheer sense of injustice and resentment was unbearable.
Right then, the sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the apartment, followed by heavy footsteps. It didn't take long to realize who it was. Travis walked in, looking absolutely immaculate from head to toe, holding takeout bags adorned with a cute franchise mascot in both hands. There I was, sitting exposed on the bed, pathetically clawing the blanket around my naked body, weeping hysterically. The faint, easy smile on his face vanished instantly. One look at my face, and it was clear he already knew exactly what had happened.
He dropped the bags onto the counter and rushed over to the bed. Carefully, he gathered me into his arms, pulling me flush against his solid chest. The sweet, distinct aroma of his vape instantly flooded my lungs. Terrified that my tears and mucus might ruin his clothes, I tried to sniffle back, but he didn't seem to care about that at all.
"I wanted to get back before you woke up so I could tell you myself, but I guess I was too late."
He softly apologized, murmuring that his own greed had ruined everything. Dropping to his knees beside the bed to bring himself to my eye level, he began to gently explain the truth behind the chaos.
Travis confessed that from the exact moment I had begged him for help, he had already decided to clear Jake's debt himself. Even if I had refused to sleep with him, Jake's loan was going to be paid off regardless. He explained that the sole reason behind his benevolence was because he loved me. He knew that no matter what, I would never let go of Jake's hand, and he realized that as long as that debt remained, my destruction was guaranteed. He wanted to end my suffering, even if it meant I would never choose him. In fact, the funds had cleared before I even arrived at his apartment last night, but that was exactly where the wires got crossed. While I was tangled in his sheets, Jake had gone to meet the loan sharks to make his monthly payment. The collectors simply informed him that his entire debt had been erased, told him to clean up his act, and handed him Travis’s address, telling him to go thank the man who had bailed him out. Travis let out a bitter, helpless huff, admitting he had been so completely blinded by the prospect of finally having the woman of his dreams in his bed that he hadn't foreseen the fallout. Travis gripped both of my hands even tighter. His hands were visibly trembling.
He acknowledged that the order of operations was disastrously messed up, but swore his feelings for me were entirely pure and real, begging for the chance to be my actual boyfriend. He added that he didn't expect an answer right away, but amid my profound shock, a fierce instinct to protect him from hurt flared up inside me. It was a slightly twisted realization, but his dangerous presence suddenly felt like a grand prize, a twisted blessing from God himself. Reaching out, I pressed my lips to his in a quiet vow of acceptance, and he smiled against my mouth, eagerly drinking in the kiss. Our tongues tangled deeper, and when my hands reached down to pull at his shirt, he gently caught my wrists.
"You haven't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon."
He murmured that we had all the time in the world now, suggesting we take things slow. I couldn't help but smile.
*****
Travis stared down at the woman deeply asleep on the mattress, her body utterly drained from the consecutive climaxes, her soft whimpers finally silenced by exhaustion. He rolled the used condom off his length, tied it in a knot, and tossed it into the trash. After a careless wipe with a piece of tissue, he pulled his pants back on without bothering with underwear. Grabbing his vape, he let it preheat, took a few heavy drags, and casually strolled out into the living room.
In the dimly lit space, Jake was sitting on the couch. There was no telling exactly how long he had been sitting there. His fists were clenched so hard against his thighs that all the blood had drained from his knuckles, and he was weeping silently, tears and snot streaming down his face. He kept his eyes locked on the floor in pure, unadulterated humiliation, but Travis noticed the distinct, pathetic bulge straining against the crotch of his jeans. Travis let out a contemptuous click of his tongue. On the coffee table lay the messy stacks of cash Jake had practically broken his bones to scrape together through various odd jobs. Walking with the slow, heavy stride of a sated lion, Travis sank into the single-seater armchair across from him. The quiet living room was filled only with the sound of Jake sniffling, the soft hiss of Travis exhaling sweet vapor, and the rhythmic rustle of paper as Travis casually counted the cash.
Tossing the counted stacks onto the table one by one, Travis openly mocked the broken man across from him.
"You actually got a hard-on listening to me slide in and out of my girlfriend? Jesus, man. For a guy who looks so plain, you've got a seriously sick kink."
The bold, casual declaration of ownership over the woman sleeping in the next room made Jake flinch violently. "She's my girlfriend," he choked out, every syllable requiring a monumental effort against the paralyzing terror gripping his throat. He desperately wanted to push back. Travis merely smiled wider, shaking his head with mock pity. "You gonna talk like that when you can't even take care of your own woman?" The words sounded casually thrown out, but they were laced with pure venom.
"What kind of man can't even clean up his own fucking mess, to the point where he lets his woman sell her body to fix it?"
Travis couldn't contain his amusement, letting out a dark laugh, while Jake ground his teeth so hard he could taste blood.
"...I know you engineered this entire thing. You ruined our lives."
The accusation made Travis's fingers pause over the bills. "Our?" Travis snorted. Lifting his gaze from the money, he locked eyes with Jake, whose eyes were bloodshot and wild with fury. But regardless of the rage consuming him, even if Jake had a knife or a loaded gun in his hands right this second, he stood absolutely zero chance against the predator sitting across from him. "So what?" Travis asked, his face melting into his signature boyish, innocent expression.
"Even if I did, what the fuck are you going to do about it? Call the cops? Or maybe go tell her the truth? Want to run to her and admit you're so fucking incompetent that you walked right into a trap laid by a bad guy? Tell me, what exactly can you provide for her that I can't do better?"
The brutal truth of his words instantly broke Jake's spirit, and his gaze slid helplessly back to the floor. "And honestly, everything else aside, you're the dumb fuck who ran straight to a gambling den the second you wanted a few quick bucks. You couldn't fix a single thing with this pathetic pile, yet you sure know how to run your mouth." Finished with the money, Travis casually tossed a single thick stack of bills right at Jake's chest, telling him to use it for cab fare and to never show his face around here again. When Jake weakly protested that he couldn't just abandon the woman sleeping in the bedroom, it finally wore through the last of Travis's amusement.
"I guess you don't appreciate the fact that you're still breathing with all your limbs intact, courtesy of her."
The cold certainty in Travis's stare made sweat break out across Jake’s neck, his eyelids fluttering with terror. The invisible threat materialized into a suffocating, physical dread. Travis had granted a singular mercy by allowing Jake to close the curtain on his relationship with the girl—even if that mercy meant severing their bond with the most vicious, hateful words imaginable. Like a beaten dog getting kicked out of its owner's yard, Jake had lost everything and was being violently pushed out of the territory. The moment he pulled the front door open, two massive, heavily built men were standing like brick walls in the hallway. Recognizing exactly who they were, Jake’s knees nearly buckled, but the enforcers paid him absolutely no mind. Pushing past him into the apartment, they gave Travis a respectful, disciplined bow.
"Pass along my apologies to the Old Man for letting a small spark fly his way," Travis said easily. "It's a bit short, but as soon as the sun is fully up, I'll wire the rest with interest. Tell him to call off his hounds regarding this idiot."
"Actually, sir, the Boss explicitly stated that the money isn't necessary. He simply asked us to convey his regards and hopes for a prosperous relationship moving forward."
"Can't do that. Business is business, keep it clean. Take it now, before I change my mind."
Travis offered a casual wave of his hand, and the men quickly swept the cash into their duffel bags. Once the intruders cleared out, the apartment fell dead silent once more. Travis walked back into the bedroom, looking down at the woman sleeping peacefully, entirely oblivious to the world. He reached out, gently stroking her hair, a faint smile carving into his lips.
