#gus travis x reader

[karatekels]

KarateKels Story Masterlist

Hi everyone! I’ve decided to (finally) get my act together and make a masterlist post for all the requests/stories I’ve done so far. I’m going first by character, then adding Dark Desires October and TIGmas posts for if you’re looking for a ~vibe~. Links that have a * indicate the presence of smut, for if you just want to get to the good stuff! 😉

(I'll be going through these posts and updating them slowly when I can't bring myself to write, so if you see anything that needs fixing or you want to suggest ways to make this... less of a clusterfuck, please feel free to let me know!)

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Currently Writing:

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1. Cold Outside (a Jack Blaylock x Reader fic for TIGmas #12 - sorry for taking FOREVER, @babylonianqueenie; I'm really struggling to make this good!)

2. Solar Flare (a Jan Valek x OC fic)

Note: I am taking requests, but seeing that some of them are around a year old at this point, note that it may be awhile! I'm not planning on starting any of my own projects or theme-months until I clear out most of what I have, and thank you all for your patience!

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Terry Silver:

Silver Seduction: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3* | Part 4* | Part 5* | Part 6*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader is the older sister of Jessica Andrews and has taken it upon herself to make sure young Daniel LaRusso stays safe after Jessica returns to Ohio. This includes accompanying him to seek out the training offered by Sensei Terry Silver and learning a few moves yourself from the handsome older man. When his true intentions are discovered, you completely cut him off, but he isn’t willing to let you go so easily. (Reader is in her 20s)

Chef’s Kiss: Part 1 | Part 2*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader is dragged to a charity event by her parents where she meets Terry Silver. They discover that they have a mutual acquaintance, Daniel LaRusso, and Reader joins Danny at the dojo as she grows closer to Terry. Wanting to surprise him one day, she catches Terry relishing Daniel’s torture – now Terry has to make her see reason. (Reader is in her 20s)

Deluge: Part 1

(KK3 Terry x Reader) You get stranded in the rain trying to make your way to Terry’s place for Valentine’s Day, but Terry comes to your rescue, professing his love for you and taking you to his home where you belong.

An Honest Man: Part 1 | Part 2* | To be continued…

(KK3 Terry x Reader) You meet Terry at a party and aren’t impressed by his smarmy exterior, making him determined to win you over. Colluding with your easily wooed coworker, he talks you into a date and slowly seduces his way past your timid, untrusting nature.

Payment Plan: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader sees Terry training in the Cobra Kai dojo while on her way to work and develops a crush on him. They finally meet face-to-face and Terry invites her inside for a free lesson.

Bath Toy: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Terry takes a business call while playing with you in the bath but is interrupted by you not being able to keep quiet. To make up for the inconvenience, you let him use you underwater while he goes about his business.

Cat & Mouse: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader is a rising star at Dynatox and has caught the eye of the boss himself. Despite being the Terry Silver, however, you adamantly reject his advances, forcing him to take more drastic measures to help you see reason. The two of you engage in a game of cat and mouse that culminates the night of a gala celebrating Dynatox’s successes.

Discipline Training: Part 1* | Part 2* | To be continued…

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Terry comes home early from a work trip and catches you touching yourself without his permission. He decides to punish train you in the third 'D': Discipline.

All's Fair: Part 1 | Part 2* | Part 3*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader has been dating Terry for awhile, and he's been patient. When she surprises him with a date at their local funfair, he thinks she'll be willing to finally make their relationship physical. At the top of the ferris wheel, he makes his move. Dubcon.

Unjust Reward:Part 1 | Part 2*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Daniel warns Reader that Terry is nothing but trouble, and she tries to avoid him, but when she's being chased by a group of men she turns to Terry's dojo for help. He swoops in to save the day, but it turns out he was just saving her for himself. Non-con.

Clear as Mud: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) You’ve tried to get Terry to open up about his time in Vietnam on more than one occasion, and while he’s been doing his best to help you understand, he ultimately decides that the best way to help you is to put you through something similar, hunting you in the middle of a forest at sunset.

What You Do To Me: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) You and Terry have been together for quite awhile now and he is crazy about you. Before he can tell you that he loves you, he decides to test your loyalty by seeing how you respond to another man trying to seduce you at a gala. Once you pass his test with flying colours, he sneaks away with you to confess his love, and shows you just what it’s like to have his full devotion…

Turtle Doves: Part 1 | Part 2

(KK3 Cobra Husbands - Terry/Reader/John) It’s your first Christmas spent with both Terry and John, and everyone is nervous about what to give the others. While you’re confident in Terry’s (often overwhelming) love for both you and John, as well as your own feelings for both men, you’re still unsure of John’s feelings for you with the spirit of Betsy still a looming presence in everyone’s mind.

Songbird: Part 1*

(Terry through the ages) A series of snippets of Terry and his wife in the 90s, 00s and the present. Reader is a singer at the bar that Terry frequents as he hits rock bottom, and the two of you fall in love. Years later, the return of John Kreese into your husband’s live threatens to tear your marriage apart.

Lesson Learned: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3*

(CK Terry x Reader) Reader is a student in Cobra Kai’s adult class and you and Sensei Silver are both clearly attracted to one another. After a month of teasing, Terry decides you’ve both waited long enough.

Strike First: Part 1 | Part 2*

(CK Terry x Reader) Reader and Sensei Silver have been eyeing each other during the dojo’s adult class for awhile now. While you never think it would escalate past flirting, Terry has had other plans, luring you to the dojo when no one is around so you two can get to know each other.

Prized Possession: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) You accompany Terry to a charity event for the first time as a couple and he doesn’t appreciate the attention you receive from the other men in attendance. Upon returning home, he needs to make sure that you both know who you belong to.

As I Am: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) You witness Terry and Daniel’s fight in Stingray’s apartment and desperately want him to lose control with you. Upon making you confess your desires, he gives you exactly what you need. Size kink.

A Better Offer: Part 1 | Part 2*

(CK Terry x Reader) You are Daniel’s assistant at the dealership and a close family friend. When Terry drops by to gather information for his schemes, he decides to scoop you up and make Danny-Boy regret his mistreatment of you, giving you a dream opportunity: organizing the charity auction for Eva Garcia. The two of you develop feelings for one another as you work closely together, and as the events of the auction unfold, the tension between you reaches its boiling point.

Legacy: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) Terry has fallen for the most promising student in his adult class, though she remains oblivious. Though he desperately wants to have her for himself, he fears rejection and settles for privately training her just to be close to her and build a legacy. Eventually, he runs out of things to teach her.

Fresh Start: Days 4 & 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Days 8 & 9* | Days 10 & 11 | Day 12-A | Day 12-B | Day 13-A* | Day 13-B* | Day 13-C | Day 14-A* | Day 14-B | Day 14-C

(CK Terry x Reader) Reader is visiting LA for a few weeks and accidentally wanders onto the estate of Terry Silver, who immediately falls hard for the young woman. With only a few days to convince her to stay with him, he knows he has to pull out all the stops.

Scream for Me: Part 1 | Part 2*

(CK Terry x Reader) Part of the "Fresh Start" universe! Reader makes the mistake of telling Terry that she can't believe he was ever scary, and certainly isn't that way now. Terry decides to teach her a lesson, hunting her in their own home until she admits that he is still very much something to be feared.

Wrapped in Red: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) Part of the “Fresh Start” universe! You and Terry are invited to a Christmas Eve charity gala by your rival for Terry’s affections, and you’re sick of having to endure her flirting with your man. Surprisingly, Victor has an idea that will make it certain who Terry Silver belongs to.

Eye of the Storm: Part 1* | To be continued…

(CK Terry x Reader) Trapped at the airport on Christmas Eve, Terry grows tired of seeing everyone around him with their families and loved ones, and impulsively decides to start a family of his own. Today. He sets his sights on you to get the job done, with you being none the wiser.

Guided Meditation: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) Terry is fed up with your attitude lately, and decides to help you learn how to channel your pent up frustrations through more enjoyable pursuits... for him, anyway.

Party Favours: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) You really don't want your birthday to be a big deal, but Terry is determined to strike the perfect balance, finding just the right way to spoil you...

Reunion: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |To be continued...

(CK Terry x Reader) Part of the "Fresh Start" universe! You return to Terry weeks after your initial departure to begin your life together.

The Steadfast Tin Soldier: Part 1*

(Twig Terry x Reader) Terry returns from Vietnam on Christmas Eve, and you are the first and only person he wants to see. After years without so much as a letter, you two try to get to know each other once again.

Cash Ewing (Black Friday/The Kidnapping):

Disorderly Conduct: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4* | Part 5 | Part 6

A dark, tragic fic. Reader is a cop who has been working at the same precinct as Cash for awhile, and gets the vibe that something is... off. Trusting her instinct, she follows him to an abandoned building one day and catches him in the act. Unfortunately, he also catches her, and keeps her as a hostage while he tries to figure out his next move. (Takes place before events of the movie)

Person of Interest: Part 1*

You and a friend attend your precinct's Christmas party; the first time you'll be seeing your coworkers since you went undercover almost a year ago. Rather than the happy reunion with your partner and friend Cash, he seems anything but happy to see you. Locked in the basement together, you call Cash out on his BS and finally confront him about his feelings and your own.

Jan Valek (Vampires):

Heirloom: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6*

An enemies to lovers fic with Jan Valek. Reader is Jack Crow's daughter and a vamp-hunter-in-training. When Valek attacks the old Catholic school where the Black Cross of Berziers is kept and discovers his nemesis’s daughter, he kidnaps her in hopes of using her to lure him out but finds himself falling for her instead.

Saturnalia: Part 1*

Valek catches your scent on the wind and plans to feed on you, but after a single conversation with you can’t bring himself to commit such an act. Instead, he plans to find you at your friend's Winter Solstice Masquerade to be close to you, even just for the night.

Solar Flare: Part 1 | In Progress...

As vampires become a growing problem and the number of Slayers dwindles, the Catholic Church decides to perform another ‘miracle’, attempting to create a weapon that will be able to find the despicable creatures in any and all shadows that they may hide. Similarly to the botched exorcism of Jan Valek, the experimental ceremony that Rose Hanlon undergoes doesn’t go exactly as intended, and she escapes the city with a set of abilities she doesn’t even understand.

Gus Travis (Black Point):

In Deep Water: Part 1 | Part 2* | Part 3*

A dark non-con with Gus Travis. Reader is an undercover cop who has gotten in with Gus's gang to get the dirt on him and Malcolm’s crime ring. Gus gets wind of your deception and decides to punish you - for lying, for making him fall for you, for everything.

Terry McCain (Excessive Force):

Yule-Tied: Part 1* | To be continued…

You manage to get Terry to swear off work for a whole week to come with you to visit your family in New York City for the holidays. He has (unsurprisingly) charmed his way into everyone’s good books, so you decide to reward him with an early Christmas present when you get back to your hotel room the night before Christmas Eve.

Jack Blaylock (Ulterior Motives):

Coming soon…

The TIGverse (stories with more than one TIG character):

The NSFW Alphabet: Part 1* | Part 2*

A character study for both KK3 Terry and CK Terry. (I want to do more requests like these, so feel free to send in requests for my thoughts/opinions rather than full on stories if you want!)

A Tale of Two Terrys: Part 1* | To be continued…

(KK3 Terry x Reader x CK Terry) You and your husband (CK Terry) are somehow joined in bed by his younger self, who had been wondering how his future would turn out. Initially protective, your husband talks you into letting his younger self have his way with you before joining in himself.

Mediation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5* | Part 6* | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9* | To be continued…

(Terry McCain x Reader x Cash Ewing) You are assigned as Terry McCain’s new partner after his previous partner – Cash Ewing – goes to prison for the crimes he has committed. Cash returns to Chicago years later, after his release and rehabilitation, and while he can’t be a cop anymore, he wants to make amends to those he has disappointed with his actions, most of all his former close friend Terry. Terry isn’t receptive to Cash’s attempts at reconciliation, and warns you to stay away from him, having grown very protective of his “work wife.” But you find something of a kindred spirit in Cash and want to help him get a second chance at life, deciding to do what you can to support the man and bring the two friends back together.

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Themes/Challenges

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Dark Desires October 2023:

Unjust Reward Disorderly Conduct Heirloom Scream for Me All's Fair In Deep Water

TIGmas 2023:

Person of Interest Saturnalia Clear as Mud Eye of the Storm The Steadfast Tin Soldier Wrapped in Red Yule-Tied What You Do To Me Mediation Guided Meditation Turtle Doves (Cobra Husbands) It’s Cold Outside (Jack Blaylock) Coming Soon...

Fresh Start Universe:

Fresh Start Scream for Me Wrapped in Red Reunion In progress More coming for Fresh Start February!

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AMAs (ask me anything):

Just in case you are, for some reason, interested in asking me about things or reading about what other people have asked me! (These are fun and I'm happy to answer pretty much any question you feel like asking!)

AMA1 | AMA2 |

[virgo-mess]

TIG Character Masterlist

Cult of TIG movie drive for your viewing pleasure 🩵

Requests and Asks are always open!

Terry Silver Fics

Silver Thread Universe

Terry Silver x OC Series

Silver Thread - Terry Silver falls hard for Daniel's older sister, Veda LaRusso during the summer of 1985. Set before and during the events of kk2. (Almost enemies to lovers. But mostly fluff. Tons of fluff) (Complete!)

Silver Bells (Silver Thread Sequel)

Silver Bells- Terry Silver and Veda LaRusso end up at the same ski resort during Christmas 10 years after their breakup. Set during December of 1995. (Rekindled Romance, although it was never really over. Is it ever over when it comes to Terry Silver?) (In progress)

Cash Fics

Good Cop, Bad Cop

Good Cop, Bad Cop- Cash heads to his hometown for the first time in nearly twelve years and does everything he can to reclaim his first crush, the girl next door, the one that got away. (a request from @karatekels) (Cash x Reader) (complete)

Kidnapper for Hire

Kidnapper for Hire- Cash is hired to fetch a girl with a big price on her head but for whatever reason can't bring himself to hand her over.

The Birds and the Bees

The Birds and the Bees- Cash Ewing and Shaylee Harris were not only neighbors but also the best of friends. Until that one summer changed everything for them.....(friends to lovers and rekindled / second chance romance)

Valek fics

Valek x OC

Untitled- Valek stumbles upon a girl who bears a striking resemblance to the girl he loved and lost in his days of priesthood.

[aceditwrites]

The Master List (hi)

Master List:

Hi, i’m ace. I got really bored and i need an excuse to procrastinate on my personal writing projects so i decided to start an account dedicated to just writing. So like, you can request almost anything (limits below) like if you want like a platonic fic just ask! If you want the reader to be the kid or sibling of the character, i’ll do it! You can be as specific or as vague as you want, eventually i’ll get some prompts for help but for now, you gotta wing it. Also I’ll write for like any fandom even if i dont know it, i’ll try my hardest but i’d prefer if you stuck to the list below. Anyways yeah.  (also pfp is nyurei on picrew)

So basic rules, 

If youre an nsfw account dni, also i will not write smut regardless of age given i’m a minor

No incest 

I’m currently only doing x readers, that might change in the future but for now no ocs or ships

I’d prefer if you didn’t request x reader with an actual person, (ex. Instead of asking for a Maya Hawke x reader, ask for a Robin Buckley x reader)

If you know a character’s sexuality and you dont fit, dont ask (ex. Nico is gay, I will not write Nico x fem! reader)

Please specify pronouns when requesting 

Please keep in mind i’m not a professional writer 

Please use common sense and dont do something that makes me have to update the rules

Anyways, so fandoms i’ll write for

It 2017/2019: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough, Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom, Mike Hanlon (specify if you want 2017 or 2019)

Percy Jackson: Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Grover Underwood, Piper McLean, Jason Grace, Leo Valdez, Hazel Levesque, Frank Zhang, Connor Stoll, Travis Stoll, Nico Di Angelo, Will Solace

Supernatural: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Gabriel, Kevin Tran, Crowley, Charlie Bradbury, Rowena (does girly have a last name 💀), Jack Kline (platonic only)

Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous/Chaos Theory: Darius Bowman (i’d prefer if we kept it platonic with him but romance is ok i guess), Kenji Kon, Brooklyn, Yasmina Fadoula, Sammy Guiterrez, Ben Pincus, 

Marvel: Tony Stark (platonic only, so sorry) Steve Rodger, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Peter, Ned Leeds, M.J, Harley Keener, Thor Odinson, Loki Odinson, Shuri, T'Challa, Okoye

The Owl House: Luz Noceda, Willow Park, Amity Blight, Edric Blight, Emira Blight, Gus Porter, Eda Clawthorne, Lilith Clawthorn, Hooty (platonic preferred, but if you freaky like that go ahead and ask for romance, see what happens), Raine Whispers

The Umbrella Academy: Luther, Diego, Alison, Klaus, Five (would he date a kid or an adult cause-), Ben (he can be alive or yall could be ghosts), Vanya 

Dear Evan Hansen: Connor Murphy (my beloved), Evan Hansen, Jared Kleinman, Zoe Murphy, Alana Beck

Heather: Heather Chandler, Heather McNamara, Heather Duke, Veronica Sawyer, Jason Dean, Martha Dunnstock

Invincible: Mark Grayson, Debbie Grayson, Eve Wilkins, Rex Splode, Amber Bennet, William Clockwell

Epic the Musucal: Odysseus, Penelope, Telemachus, Eurylochus, Polites, Circe, Hermes, Calypso, Ride The Cyclone: Ocean O'Connell Rosenburg, Noel Gruber, Mischa Bachinski, Ricky Potts, Jane Doe/Penny Lamb, Constance Blackwood, Karnak

Idk how any of this works but uh have fun

[mariamariquinha]

Bossa Nova (Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x f!reader) - Seven

Six | Eight

Summary: The science of it all. 

Word count: 8.033.

Warnings: Bad words, SMUT (it came woohoo), unprotected p in v sex, oral sex (f! receiving), mention of drug crimes and other things related. Benny being a goofy horny man. 

Author’s Note: If you ask me what happened here, I don’t know how to answer. Just… Accept it. *whispering* Shh-shh… It’s okay. Nothing to worry here, okay?

Again, using other character’s gif. Don’t mind me. It’s not my fault he just appeared for, like, 5 seconds.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

****

You put in Kojak's food, blinking hard a few times to shake off the hangover headache so you could see how much you were putting in. He moved his mouth little by little, taking each grain inside, and you stood there watching him do this until the food was finished.

On the clock, it was still early – too early. You already knew that you were going to have a preliminary hearing with another case you were working on before going to the station, but the version of you from the previous day had probably forgotten about that and your hungover face wasn't going to help much. Well, your self from the day before had forgotten a lot of things along the way, and you knew better than to think about it at least for the sake of what you would say in court.

When you got into the car and looked out onto your porch, the first thing you remembered was the last thing you slept with thinking about the night before; both involved Benny.

****

“Where were you?”

You looked up from where you were taking off your heels, seeing Henderson standing in the doorway of your lab.

“Had to be in court. What’s up?”

“I needed a copy of Brown's technical reports. Emma said you signed them.”

“Yeah, I did,” Took you a beat to come to your senses and understand why he was asking. “Ah, fuck, I forgot to send the copies to you. Nick told me you would take care of it and I forgot. Give me two minutes, I'll send it to you.”

“I'm going to have a visit at the prosecutor's office now. Can you leave a copy on my desk?”

“I can, I’m sorry.”

“You’re good.”

As soon as his back was turned, you leaned back in your chair and rested your head, grunting in discomfort as you closed your eyes tightly.

“Get your fucking shit together.”

****

There was no one in the office when you arrived. Well, no one but Mathias. You were already entering the place, well accustomed to the layout and being in or out of there, so when you saw him, you just froze into place for a second too long for him to take notice of your presence.

“... Where’s Nick?” You asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Walsh had both hands inside his pants pockets, standing behind the desk where they seemed to have been working on some case stuff.

“He and the others are on their way. What are you doing here?”

You hid your desire to scoff for the sake of good neighborly behavior – he also wasn’t being directly arrogant, so you could pretend there was some friendly professional interaction between you two.

“I came to deliver a report to Henderson.”

“About what?”

“Travis Brown.”

“Uh,” But he didn’t demand to see it, which was considerably weird. As soon as the words came out of your mouth, he averted his attention to the things splayed out in front of him.

You walked deeper in the room and placed the file below Gus’s keyboard, just in case.

“What do you have a degree in?” He asked, stopping you dead in your tracks on your way out of the office. When you turned around, he wasn’t looking at you. “Computer science?”

“Criminal Forensics,” Just then he gave you the privilege of a glance. “But I'm an audiovisual expert. Postgraduate. Why?”

“I need you to tell me what you think of these photos.”

You looked around as if you were waiting for someone to show up and stop you, or at least tell you that he couldn't do that, but he could. Fuck, he was inside Nick's office, spying on things about the case, and all you could remember was Emma saying that you had to keep 'cooperating'.

You approached cautiously. You didn't get too close to him, nor did you dare touch him in the photos, and you only gave him a side-eye to ask him to move away to give you wider access to what you were seeing. He gave in, even though any distance still made it feel like he was too close.

“It's an analog camera,” You said, more to yourself than to him. “These photos were developed, not printed. It still has silver halides in some spots.”

“What does this mean?”

“Whoever did this was in a hurry.”

“Who was in a hurry?”

It certainly wasn't the hangover, because there was no other explanation for Nick having used such a harsh tone for no reason other than Mathias' presence. Still, you thought it was up to you too and walked away from the table and the photos, crossing your arms defensively as you saw him approaching with Benny, Connors and Z in his trail.

Benny gave you a brief look before sending eyes to Mathias.

“You guys were late and your agent conveniently happened to be here. I just asked for some clarification,” He said.

“Henderson asked for a copy of Brown's report,” You hushed to add.

O'Brien maintained a long silence in the room as he sucked his teeth, which you couldn't tell if it was good or bad.

“Next time you wait for us,” He said then, turning to you. “So? Keep going.”

Between Mathias, Nick and everyone else, each one looked at you with expectant looks, which made you hesitate. Clearing your throat, you uncrossed your arms and leaned on the table again, pointing to some photos.

“I was saying they are analog photos, not traceable. This, this and… this one, to be more exact, still has clear signs of silver halides, which means that whoever did this didn't make a good fix at the time of development.”

“Which means they did the whole process in a hurry,” Walsh added.

“Yes. But it doesn't make much sense, because the pattern in the photos doesn't follow the stains. Like, we have the same occasions, but not all of the ones in the same occasion have the stains. It takes a long time to do this, so whoever took them must have been interrupted or, as I said, was in a hurry.”

It was the first time that day that you started to really think and it made you even a little sick. Still, you could see the way Nick didn't say anything while Z discussed the possibilities with Connors and Mathias, which made you suspicious of something.

Looking back at the photos, they looked familiar. Not just anyone had access to such specific cameras in that century, so to speak, and it seemed unlikely that his memory was just a coincidence. The material was similar: similar suspects, the focus of light, the quality.

“Two years ago Homicide worked on a similar case,” You mentioned, so everyone turned their attention to you again. “Mid investigation, some similar pics started to come up.”

They all waited for you to elaborate. You rolled your eyes.

“The dead guy was involved with a drug trafficking ring.”

“It could be the same person,” Z was the one complementing.

“Maybe,” You shrugged. “It’s hard to say. No one really could find who sent this, nor who killed who, so they ended up filing the case. I would have to compare the precedence.”

“And how long would it take?” Mathias asked, but before you could open your mouth to say something, Nick cut you off.

“Take as much time as you need.”

“... What?”

“If you're right, this murder could help us tie together some information we're investigating. You compare the photos, Z talk to Homicide.”

“Wait, we don’t want to know who’s sending this?” And, listen, you weren’t one to agree with Walsh, but he has a point.

“It will come with time.”

Which was a pretty lame excuse, so you hoped Walsh was as dumb as you thought he was to go along with it.

****

“Busy?”

You looked over your shoulder and saw Magalon standing in the narrow hall of the file room, leaning casually on a shelf with a can of ginger ale in hand.

“Erm… Kind of,” You scratched the back of your neck before giving your back a stretch. “Don't tell me I forgot to send someone another report.”

“No, you’re safe,” He waved you off before gesturing with the can. “I brought you this. I figured you were going to be a little out of orbit.”

But he didn't verbally mention the previous night's date, which gave you a mental breather to deal with what to say or how to say anything. You accepted with a sigh, opening the can and taking a long sip. He watched you closely for a while, doing as much as raising his eyebrows when you leaned back on a shelf and cleaned your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. What are you doing here, by the way?”

“I came to get the file on that case,” And you wanted to add that you thought it was weird of Nick to use that poor excuse earlier on, but you thought better of it. Whatever he wanted, the less you knew the best.

“Successfully?”

“Of course not…” You huffed in annoyance after another sip. “Jimmy just threw me some numbers and said it was around here. How am I supposed to know with a ton of stuff around here? Not to mention that the person who cataloged the evidence was that intern who left after a month.”

“Marty?”

“Marty, that dude,” You gestured in the air lazily. “I’ve been here for the last 15 minutes.”

“Well, you have me. Let’s find it.”

“Really? Don’t you have other things to do?”

“Besides being on the evidence floor looking for a poorly cataloged box with you? No, not really.”

You suppressed a smile at that, even though you obviously didn't believe what he said. Taking another sip of the drink for confidence, you mentioned the numbers that Jimmy had given you on a tiny piece of paper, and Benny began to inspect the infinite layers of boxes with you.

With help, it didn't take more than ten minutes. For some very plausible reason, there were actually two different boxes of the same case but in separate places; by the end, he was carrying them both to another room so you could inspect its contents.

“Didn't you say it's only been two years since the case?” He asked while eyeing you open a box and finding a lot of sawdust inside it.

“Yes, but I think the floor was renovated later. This is… horrible, my God. That’s why everyone hates the government.”

The two of you were quiet as you worked. You waited for him to leave or, what, do something else, but Benny pulled up a chair and sat nearby, scanning the evidence you were laying out on the table as you looked for the photos you wanted. This didn't distract you from your objective, in any way: despite his presence making your mind balance between your date and your work, you preferred to protect yourself more to avoid another fiasco like the one you caused that night.

If it was a fiasco, per se. He was curiously quiet about it since then for you to be sure of anything.

“How do you feel about Seahawks x Rams?” He broke the silence abruptly.

When you raised your eyes in surprise to look at him, he was still poking through the evidence packages, so you blinked a few times before going back to rummage through the box.

“... The game?”

“Mm-hm.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll watch.”

“Maybe?”

This time he was looking at you when you risked looking back at him.

“Yeah, like… There's this Cold Case stuff. There's a lot of material, I'll probably have to take work home.”

“Ah,” He frowned, even if he was nodding along. “Well, it will be on Sunday. Would it be a problem if you were gone for a few hours before working?”

“Who wants to know that?”

Benny couldn’t help himself and chuckled at your suspicious tone, placing the package with some crime scene photos on the table and leaning back, arms crossed as he looked you over with his head tilted to the side. You stared in waiting; him, in contemplation.

“I do. I have tickets for the game and maybe we could do something this weekend.”

“We could?”

“If you want to.”

You were skeptical about that prospect in the beginning, but since you woke up that morning, there wasn’t a single part of you that regretted being with him that night (aside from the drunk part). You wanted to keep that facade, to say it was good but it was better to not repeat it again; the problem was something else. As much as you wanted to say you would be impulsive to accept another date with him like you did when you accepted the first, it would be a lie.

You could weigh the pros and cons and still want to go out with him.

“How do you know I like the Rams?” You decided to go along with the game, cocking a hip and arching an eyebrow. He had a grin on his face at that.

“I'm a detective, remember?”

“Oh, so you investigated me?”

“I wouldn’t say investigate. Your Instagram is very much public,” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You and daddy watching one of their games, jerseys and all.”

You felt caught, almost defensive as if someone had caught you with your hand in the candy jar. Of course it was it, you dumb.

Still, you didn’t give him that – with a condescendent nod, you went back to the box and ignored him.  

“So?”

“Nothing,” You said. “I mean, you have a good eye.”

“Do I now.”

“Of course. How many people would make the effort to look at my public profile on the internet to invite me to something?” You were teasing him now. “I’ve heard that this is more than most single gentlemen do these days. Did you know that there are people who say 'I don't know, what do you want to do?' instead of making plans?”

“So is it a yes?”

It was that look again, the one that had you assuming that sometimes you couldn't look him in the eye for long. Benny wasn’t close enough but you felt like he was staring down at your mouth and then up into your eyes, putting you in a greenhouse that gradually warmed you.

Perhaps, in reality, that was the Magalon's trick – that stare.

He presented himself in full but focused on what he had best, on the way of observing, on actions, on contact, on closeness. Even the way he talked, bringing up the right things at the right times, drawing smiles and twitches in you like you're a teenager, like you haven't already been through this several times already. It was dangerous because it seemed strategic, this way of making you melt patiently and calmly. You felt stupid for starting to rant, that wasn't charming or cute at all.

God, did you want to be charming and cute for him now?

“Seahawks x Rams?” You turned to the box for the third time. “Seems fine to me.”

“Let's see how you do without your alcohol.”

Before you could say something else, you saw Jimmy coming into view with Tony by his side. At the same time, fortunately, you found what you were looking for and could avoid any second thoughts on why you two were alone in that room. You raised a package for him to see.

“Aren’t you my lucky charm.”

****

It would be a hot day and the stadium offered a more relaxed feel, so you didn't want to be overdressed. With the same jersey that also seemed to have sunk into the mess of clothes you had, forgotten like a high school letter, you had to wash the piece that smelled musty and risked giving it a touch more perfume as soon as you put it on.

You had cleaned the house in the morning and changed the bedding.

“You never know, right?” That's what you said to Kojak while deciding on the sofa's decor.

When Benny came to pick you up and gave you a lingering kiss (not on the mouth, but on the corner of it) and let his hand rest on your back a little longer than necessary, you felt like maybe you knew, that perhaps you could see if you still had it.

It was a smooth ride to the stadium, quiet enough but not uncomfortable. You talked a little about the case, nothing more than the new development, and no one shared too many concerns about it – even if you wanted to ask things, you tried not to babble about work stuff.

You didn’t have to wait in line for the tickets, but you got there early anyway, so you two jumped at the chance to find your seats first thing and grab some snacks.

“Wow, I haven't been here in a while. Don’t mind me if I get a little over the edge here, ‘kay?” You sipped on your soda (just to be sure) and he adjusted himself on his seat, arm resting lazily behind your back.

“Oh no, don’t worry. I’m more of a Seahawks myself, tho, so you shouldn’t mind if I get a little over the edge.”

“Ha, your bad then, detective. We’ll see who’s in better shape here.”

Things got more interesting during the game. At the beginning, you two were cooled off, trying to keep the composure so as to not provoke each other so much – it didn’t last until the end of the first half. Although he was more controlled, now and then he would side eye you, or just curse under his breath. You were quite the opposite: screaming, cursing, getting up, sitting down, slapping his arm when a pass was poorly made or something else.

With all that commotion, you just dared to really look at the smug Benny’s face when you sat down five minutes before the end of the game, defeated by the Rams' tragedy. He was in a mix of amusement and teasing and self-assurance, nibbling on his potato chips while taking in the way you were visibly energetic and agitated.

“What a bad shape you’re in, huh?” He said with a sarcastic tone.  

“Oh, shut up. Can’t believe I let you do this to me,” You lowered in your seat in frustration. “Ballard's photos put me in a better mood than that and we're talking about purple sofas from the 80s.”

“Nah, it wasn’t all that bad. You always seem so tense, that at least let you vent some stuff outta you.”

You waited for the commotion from the other fans to calm down before leaving the stadium. On the way, you heard other complaints and murmurs from the people around you, which made your blood cool down from your rant. His hand was placed in your back the whole time, reassuring his presence and helping you make your way out of the crowd.

“Hey, if you're from here why do you prefer the Seahawks over the Rams? It's like blasphemy, you know?”

You were already in the car when you asked, which was supposed to be just a question to fill in the silence. It was just when you slipped your seatbelt on and looked up at him that you noticed he was leaning all the way over to reach something in the backseat.

His shirt lifted a little. From there, you can see a happy trail, as well as some skin, and if you looked up (like you did), you would see his neck tattoo more exposed and closer.

“... It’s just been a family tradition since then.”

He sat back down and you honestly hadn't heard a thing before that. The two of you looked at each other for a moment and you looked like an idiot for sure.

“What.”

“... What were you… you know, looking for? Back there.”

“Ah, that left door tends to get stuck a little. Sometimes I have to open and close it again from the inside.”

“Oh.”

“But what were you looking for here in the front? Could feel you staring into my soul for a minute here.”

Caught. Again. And this time you couldn’t even say it was just you looking at anything, but it would make no sense – yeah, you were fucking staring at him while he did that shit, why wouldn’t you? He was just… there, right? And he was hot, you could… just… stare. A little.

“... It's not like you weren't looking at my ass every time I got up during the game,” You found your save with your arms crossed, which made him laugh.

“You have a point. Who am I to call you out, right?”

“Right.”

You hoped he wouldn't see the insistent smile that wanted to come out of your mouth, disguised with your face turned towards the window.

****

“Oh, hey buddy,” With two taps in the glass, Benny bent down to take a good look at Kojak, who was keen to make his appearances for him.

As his back was turned, distracted by Kojak in the aquarium, you sat down on the couch and took off your shoes. As soon as you adjusted yourself comfortably in the cushions, Benny made his way to you, sitting right next to you with a groan.

“How long have you had him?” You felt him slipping his arm on the back of the couch, fingers brushing your shoulder.

“Erm… A year and a half, tops. Got him in an open-air fair.”

“He’s very charming. I don't know if I could take care of one of these on my own,” He turned to you, back, straightened up.

“Yes, it takes a little work, but it's easier than a dog. He doesn't demand a lot of attention.”

You knew the conversation couldn't continue there, but suddenly inviting Benny into your house seemed like a bad idea. Not because you didn't want to or anything like that, it was just the feeling of being trapped in an expectation and not knowing how to proceed from there. With Lennon it was easier; as if you needed more proof that Benny was definitely not Lennon.

“I think he liked me,” He said when you averted your eyes to look at Kojak from afar, which made you roll your eyes and look at him one more time, smiling this time.

“Of course.”

“And he looks smart just like his name.”

“Well, I chose Kojak because he is majestic, charming… This type of thing. Not because he’s smart. Like Telly.”

“Do you think Telly Savalas was charming?” He turned fully to you, seeing the small teasing grin on your lips.

“I would give it a try.”

“On Savalas?” Benny pressed.

“Well, sure. We’re here, aren’t we?”

“You really think you're cute, don't you?”

“What? It's a well proven point,” You shrugged coily. “I wouldn’t go out with Telly if he wasn’t charming, it’s the same with you. Cops are generally a huge red flag.”

“Are we now.”

“Mm-hm. I need to be careful with you.”

You two were quiet, staring at each other until someone broke down. The silence lasted, lasted, lasted… As if you were studying each other under the clear light reflected on the room's white curtains. He looked good that way too, with his face more visible.

You hoped you were at least presentable from that angle, too.

“It’s a big house,” He broke the silence, even if not the stare, gesturing to the air while rubbing his knee gently on yours. “How do you manage?”

“This looks like a continuation of your personal investigation of me, detective.”

“It is,” He grinned. “Besides, you're interesting. I like to know you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Would you be disappointed if you knew there wasn't much to see?”

“Tell me and I'll find out.”

That was the downside of being who you were or going through what you went through: the insecurity. No tidying up, no… decorating of any kind could replace the fact that Benny wasn't easily distracted and was focused on you. Not your clothes or why the hell was your mother's tennis racket on the kitchen counter because you were supposed to stop by her house to return it and forgot. He was there, sitting beside you, asking why you named your fish that and… how the fuck did you manage your house.

Great question.

“I had someone who helped before. When I started living alone, I couldn't afford this service anymore, so it's just me doing what I can,” You rubbed the back of your neck, not quite elaborating on proper names or details about it. “But I barely stay here because of work.”

“I see you. Although my place isn’t as tidy as yours, I can’t say I use more than the same plate and cutlery.”

“Do you live in a house too?”

“Apartment. Studio, if you go over these titles and shit.”

“Ah. I’ve been planning on something like that for me.”

“Studios?”

“Yeah. This house is too big for me and lil Kojak dude over there. Although I love how relaxing it is, it’s too much,” And too expensive, you could add. Benny hummed.

“Relaxing, huh.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Curious, because you seem a little tense to me,” The teasing made your face heat up instantly. “What is it? Are we taking larger steps or something?”

“No! No, that’s not… it. It’s just…” You. It’s just you, Benny. “I never brought anyone here after the divorce. When I first thought about this possibility, I just didn't imagine it would be you.”

“And is it bad?”

“Bad? No, not at all. It’s just different. I’m willing to keep going, I don’t have a problem with that.”

“Mm,” He hummed one more time, measuring your face for any signs of a lie. There wasn’t of course – you wouldn’t let him in if you didn’t want to. “And what is it you do to relax here, then?”

“Why you ask?”

“We can take that tension away.”

“That’s really nice of you.”

“And is that one of the red flags?”

You laughed at that, and it was really intimidating (hot) the way he kept staring at you without even squirming or averting his gaze.

“... I usually lie on the floor.”

Benny didn't react right away, he just stared at you. When you didn't elaborate, he blinked a few times and shrugged.

“Just that?”

“With music.”

“Music.”

“Mm-hm.”

“And how does it work?”

You opened and closed your mouth, unsure of what to say.

“I just lay, you know? Belly up, stuff like that.”

It would be stupid. You wanted to do everything, absolutely everything, and if he left right then and there you would regret it completely. That sounded so strange, so pathetic – you sounded like that. If you kept pulling back too much, you'd end up overthinking it and drift away into a complicated place that had always permeated your life since Theodore left. Definitely not what you wanted.

You wanted Benny. He seemed to want you too. There shouldn't be any complications.

“That side of the carpet is fluffier,” Your hand pointed to a corner of the room that was right next to an almost empty bookcase, practically a corridor between the furniture and the sofa.

“Let’s start with it, then.”

You lay down first but he didn't take long to accompany you. With his keys and wallet placed on the lamp table, Benny curled up right next to you, his arm touching yours as well as the rest of his body.

“What kind of music do you like?” He asked quietly after a long beat of silence, but you didn’t look at him, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Anything. I’m not one to go around music for sexy times, but-”

“Who said anything about sexy times?”

“Stop it,” You burst out a giggle at his teasing, just then looking at him. That opening made him scoot closer, which was nice. “What I’m trying to say is that I listen to whatever I feel like listening at the moment.”

“And the first thing that came to your mind was sexy times,” He tsked, faking disappointment. “I feel like I’m being used.”

“Are you now.”

“I should’ve been suspicious when you didn't even offer me a glass of water.”

“Ah, well, I don’t think you’re gonna need it now. Maybe after.”

Benny raised his eyebrows and smiled openly at you.

“Now you’re relaxing,” He stated and it sounded fair. You didn’t feel so trapped in something else after a few minutes of it with him.

“I guess I am.”

The silence remained for a few more moments.

“Do you know what Benicio means?” You asked. He locked his gaze on you, grinned.

“Good kisser.”

“I’m sure that’s not it,” Your laughter was genuine, one he replicated.

“I needed to try,” A pause. “But my mother used to say it was something about being a blessed man.”

“Interesting.”

“Only if you're blessed to have a good kiss.”

Ha. The fucker had a good point – he was a good kisser. And you didn’t need alcohol or anything to prove that, although you still didn’t kiss him in sobriety, you were willing to jump on that cliff first thing. You accepted with satisfaction, propping yourself up on one arm and leaning towards him for a peck. With a hand on his face, touching chin and cheek, you saw the way his eyes got more attentive, at the same time one of his hands held your hip.

“Do you feel better?” He asked softly.

“A little.”

“We’re doing well for now, so let’s keep going if that’s okay” The answer made him tighten your hip in confirmation, probably urging you to continue.

“You’re being too nice,” You huffed. “Not at all what I thought.”

“What did you think?”

“Ah, you know… You're very sure of yourself. And there’s your team and everybody knows how they are.”

You thought you had killed the most pleasant mood when you said that (maybe you had relaxed too much), but Benny didn't seem bothered by it, just… contemplative. There was no stupidity in stating the obvious and you never hid what you really thought of them in any other situation. It wasn't like imagining Nick or Z doing something like that, being patient or stopping the drunken kiss of a first date out of caution.

“I get it,” He nodded, palm smoothing your side. “I'm not going to say I'm a saint, but it's not like we're trying to prove otherwise.”

“I don't think anyone thinks about that when they're already in the middle of it, you know? I know you think I'm an asshole too.”

“Fair, but maybe we’re all just dancing around each other because we’re stuck to this. I like you, just as much as I believe you liked me. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. Maybe we should put a rock under it and show ourselves outside work. Otherwise it will be just a waste of time and we both know we’re now allowed such privilege.”

You nodded at it, biting your bottom lip in thought. He eventually sat up and you did the same, both of you sitting side by side facing each other.

“For example, you said I make you nervous because I’m self assured.”

“Something like that.”

He didn't have a critical eye, nor pity or judgmental – at best, considerate.

“You made me nervous too.”

The confession confused and surprised you at the same time. The overall context of it was actually confusing. You were on a second date having this kind of conversation, anyone would back off right away. Benny planted both feet on it, fearlessly.

“You’re also very self confident. Not everyone has the courage to fight Nick like you do, for example.”

“At work it's different,” You averted his gaze to look at his chest, a little unconvinced by his words.

“Why?”

“I feel comfortable when I know the answers to things. The work, the… Science of things has solutions in books, they are palpable. If I have that attitude there, it's because I have the stability to trust things that I have full knowledge of.”

He kept silent.

“Now this, what we're doing, is like playing in the dark. You are being attracted to someone and no one explains exactly why and I shouldn’t, because I know the shit I’ve been through. I hate it, but in the end I’m a woman and I care if Mathias Walsh finds out I’m fucking with someone at Major Crimes. It’s like losing credibility even if it’s ridiculous.”

Benny eyed you for a moment too long.

“He’ll never know about this. And you know why?” You shook your head. “Because he’s dumb and because I’m sure he knows I didn’t like him way before he caused that scene. He won’t try to mess with me or you for the time being.”

“Sounds a lot like self assurance to me, detective,” You teased, fingers playing with the lapel of his shirt.

“I know. That’s why I’m with Major Crimes.”

Benny was smiling when you lifted your head to look at him again.

“And with all due respect, science has a pretty obvious explanation for this boner I'm having right now,” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh my God,” As if it were the easiest thing in the world, you both laughed once more, his chest heaving in reaction. “This has to be one of the worst ways I've ever heard someone say they're turned on.”

“I’m horny, that’s not the same thing.”

“Do you want to discuss this? Because as far as I know it is the same thing.”

“Agree to disagree, baby,” He adjusted himself to get more comfortable, an arm crossing over your legs so he can be closer. “You’re turned on just for the moment. Horny is something progressive.”

His tone got more sultry, seductive, and this subtle change in behavior began to take more form when his touch gently strode through the material of your jersey until it reached the hem, coming into contact with your skin.

“For example, when I saw you in that blue dress… Or when I saw your tattoo for the first time… That part got me really excited, curious even. I had practically just shut my mouth saying what a good girl you were and then you come up to me like this, hiding these things from everyone.”

“I wasn’t hiding. No one asked.”

“So I'm going to ask now. Can I see it?”

Yes. Absolutely.

Instead of responding with words, you got up and knelt beside him, watching intently as Benny waited for what you were going to do. There was a hint of confidence in you, a courtesy in the way he seemed so interested and focused on whatever you had to offer. You touched the first button and he didn't react. Not that you were teasing him, but one by one, with every inch of skin revealed, he seemed more agitated, flexing his fingers and keeping his eyes fixed on your newly revealed chest.

It wasn't until you slid the shirt off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor that you could see something different about him – in his gaze, which became darker and visibly greedy.

“Nice lace,” He murmured.

“I thought you wanted to see the tattoo.”

“Aren’t you full of surprises,” You snorted at it, not letting the way he licked his lips pass by your eyes. “Come closer, would you?”

And you did, enough for him to put both hands on either side of your hips with eagerness. The way he led you made you lose your balance a little and lean on his shoulder, but there were no excuses – you didn't even want them. Benny didn't care too much either, lost in his own mission. His nose lightly brushed beneath your breast, enough to make you shiver, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him the way your nipple peaked through the fabric.

He pressed a gentle kiss there, right over the top. Your fingers squeezed his shoulder harder.

In denim shorts that didn't do much justice in covering your leg, he had an easy time accessing almost the entire length of the tattoo – your hand automatically went to the back of his neck as his face came close to your skin, another wave of shivers running through your entire body when you felt Benny's breath hovering there.

“Just like I imagined,” A murmur slipped off his mouth, you could sense both lips touching the top of the tattoo while he spoke. “Soft, sensible. Couldn’t stop thinking about how it would be.”

“Seems like you spent too much time thinking about me,” The teasing made him nip the area and you yelped.

“I almost went crazy.”

“What’s next then?”

“You ride me,” He practically growled, eye to eye, not hiding a single part of his lust gaze from you. “Slowly. I want to feel every inch of my cock entering you, gatita.”

When you went for another kiss, Benny insisted on being responsible for prolonging it, taking his hand from your waist to the back of your thigh. It started subtle, unobtrusive, slow. Nobody there was in a hurry. Soon, between a single pause for breath, he took the initiative again and led one of your legs across his waist, which you obliged. With a more open and intense kiss, you felt the warmth building in your belly because suddenly everything became very very clear – the bulge of his jeans in your clothed crotch, his fingers smoothing over your back and sometimes playing with the clasp of your bra.

Among other things, Benny was a stout, broad man. You felt his waist against yours as your legs tried to fit more comfortably around him and it felt good, comforting, exciting. A sigh came out of your mouth when, tentatively, you swayed your hips for friction. He pulled his head back for a moment, smiled at the reaction.

“Goddamn,” Benny whispered against your lips, grinding softly into you. “You really are relaxed.”

“Told you it works,” You held the side of his face, stunned by that numb expression of desire, the dilated pupils. Surely your lips were just as plump from the kiss as he was. “But I don't think I mentioned that your self-assurance is hot as fuck.”

“So just let go of the reins, babe. You don't have to worry about anything.”

The path to your room was almost domestic; you both got up and you looked at Kojak like he was a son witnessing something he shouldn't have as a kid. When you took Benny's hand, he accompanied you patiently, close but unhurriedly following your footsteps.

Your bed was high, tidy, big enough for the two of you. Still, after he let you lead him closer to the mattress, it felt small enough. There the reservations ran out and he didn't hesitate to take off his shirt, which left your mouth watering. He was built like a man, with soft spots and strong muscles, and soon that happy trail wasn’t just a peek, but all there, for you. You ran your nails there, then squeezed around his biceps, shoulders, down to the belly again and he groaned at the sensation, getting a hold in your forearms to stop your movements.

“Lay down,” A soft order, but still an order. You obliged, of course.

Just when you were ready to adjust yourself in the bed, he surprised you by grasping both your ankles and pulling you sharply closer to where he was standing at the foot of the bed, making you gasp. In fact, you almost laughed at the gesture, heartened by the way he didn't say anything else as he took off your shorts.

That just didn't happen because he was serious, determined, running the palms of his hands over your thighs before kneeling on the floor.

Oh. Oh, okay.

“Benny,” You called but he didn’t hear, so you pressed. “Benny.”

The firmer tone caught his attention. With that, you managed to reach up to grab a pillow and throw it in his direction.

“See? Such a good girl.”

Before you could respond or even notice the moment he placed the pillow below his knees and your legs over his shoulders, Benny had you swallowing the words when he gave a single lick in your core. Not that your panties weren't already wet enough to give any indication of just how turned on you were, but that contact was succinct enough to make you whine.

It had been a while since anyone had elicited such a reaction in that regard. You couldn't think of anyone, or any other time as Benny teased his tongue through the material of your panties, but you were sure it felt like a new sensation, like the last time you felt it was a lifetime ago.

He continued maneuvering with his mouth there for a while longer – when you felt a slightly chilly air from the room, you noticed that he had pulled the fabric to the side and you didn’t even have the time to be self-conscious before his mouth was on you again.

Everything about his movements was calm and diligent, from the tongue to the discreet suck he gave your clit. You could certainly expect something from the way he kissed, but this meant so much more. Your body squirmed on the sheet, tempted to pull more and more against his face just to have more of the friction of his goatee in that area. He didn’t let you hold back – he grabbed your hips with full hands and pulled you even closer, groaning when you circled your hips over his face. Your fingers went into his hair, pulling hard, and the room was filled with sighs of pleasure from both parties.

That first orgasm hitted you hard. Your pussy clenched around nothing and if you weren’t so out of orbit, you would feel a little embarrassed by the way he clearly was watching it. After a moment to recover, you propped yourself up on your elbows and glared at him. Benny was standing straighter, his entire torso visible as well as his face partially covered by your arousal. It really was a vision.

“You’re delicious, you know that?” His voice was rough, something you’ve never heard before – but weren’t complaining either.

If there had been any inhibition there, any… fear, which was very unlikely, it was gone after that, like something had clicked in both of your heads. He licked his lips and gathered the arousal wetting his lips with the tip of two of his fingers, licking them as if it was the most natural thing to do. You watched it in awe, and when he started to unfasten his belt, you tried to be equally quick and efficient, even if not very graceful, and got rid of the rest of your garments until you were laying there, stark naked, watching his cock sprung free from it’s confines at his boxers.

It was the second time your mouth watered that day.

You tilted your head in the direction of the headboard, already positioning yourself for him. Benny sat up, spread his legs, let himself invite you to crawl across the bed and reach his body. He was more blunt when he pulled you into a heated kiss, full of tongue and teeth, and held your neck securely to deliver nibbles and kisses to your chin at the same time that you settled back into his lap, this time feeling a heavy, hard cock resting against your belly.

“Condom,” He stopped for a bit to ask, hand holding the back of your neck to get a better look of your dazzled face. “Fuck, it’s on my wallet.”

“Hold on,” You leaned over the bedside table, opening one of the drawers lamely and pulling a box of them out of it.

When you ripped the thing open and pulled one out, Benny was looking at you with curiosity.

“What?”

“A box?”

“I'm a control freak, have you forgotten?” You threw the box somewhere before spitting in your hand to take hold of his cock. “Now shut the fuck up and keep going.”

“You’re unbelievable,” He hissed when you started pumping him, not wasting any other second to slap your hand away and put the condom on. Benny braced himself, hands massaging your thighs and eyes going straight to where you almost connected. “Dive in, ma. Use me.”

At first, it was a stretching feeling, which bothered you a little but only because of the lack of habit. Benny had enough to be considered a good boyfriend dick but the guy was still packing. With just a little care, you ended up sitting up all the way and the sigh you gave had a mixture of pleasure and victory. He, on the other hand, groaned loud enough and dug his fingertips into the flesh of your legs.

Slow, you remembered, so that was how you started. Your hips moved in a circular motion at first, testing his reactions, and soon that wasn't enough. As you started bouncing on him, one of your hands had to grip the headboard to keep the rhythm, and Benny held your hair-tangled head in his fingers to kiss you, while the other hand stuck to your back.

It didn't take long for you to start panting, one anchoring on the other to not interrupt those motions, like a singular type of dance with the contact of sweaty skin and urgent hands. You understood why he wanted you to slow down – the feeling was indescribable. He hit you in all the right places, conducted sex even if you were the one on top, which prolonged the sensation of pleasure and escalated meteorically with each time your clit brushed against his pubic hair.

Not a smartass word came out of anyone's mouth. He buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder, still holding your head, and began to gradually increase the movements. His cunning fingers went straight to your clit, already throbbing with pleasure, and you moaned loudly as you started to feel a second orgasm coming. His left bicep would probably be scarred with your nails pressing so hard there, the incessant movement and impending orgasm making you oblivious to your surroundings.

You came first, throwing your head back and trying, not so successfully, to catch your own breath because Benny kept pounding inside of you without a break. When he came, filling the condom with his cum, he didn’t give a single fuck and pepper your sweat neck with kisses, chests brushing and touching for being so close.

Just like that, you two came down from your high – with him stroking your hair and placing a single lingering kiss on your shoulder, while you hugged him back, in genuine tune. There was calm silence, your own breathings coming in tune with your pounding hearts, and no one wanted to go away.

****

“I think I’ve heard something about needing to check something-something. Was it your Alexa?” He asked as soon as you handed him a cup of water.

“Probably. But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t something-something.”

“I can’t multitask like that,” Benny winked at you, drowning the water in one single gulp. “Maybe you should check on him.”

“Already did. He’s fine.”

“So you can come back to bed?”

“You really don’t want me to get Ballard out of my ass, huh?” You teased, even though you were already crawling back to his lap.

“You can always say you were busy,” He used his grip to keep you close to his body, hands splayed out on your thighs. “Scientific field research.”

“Oh yeah? On what? All your bodily fluids during sex?”

“Would that be a bad idea?”

No. No, it definitely wouldn’t be a bad idea.

****

No pressure tags:

@cheesybadgers

@thesandbeneathmytoes

@nerdyreaderpapi

@thoroughlymodernminutia

@the-hinky-panda​ 

@mysoulisasunflower​

[karatekels]

In Deep Water - Chapter 2

HOO BOY, this one's a doozy. Definitely the most fucked up, depraved thing I've ever written, so please don't read this if any of the trigger warnings are upsetting to you. Speaking of which...

TW: bondage, torture, threats, violence (hair-pulling, slapping, punching, kicking, biting, cutting), blood-drinking, sexual assault, rape (oral, anal, vaginal), graphic non-consensual smut

...What'd I tell you?

Part 1 here

---

Chapter 2: Over a Barrel

Reader’s POV:

Somehow it’s the sound of the slap that jolts you awake before you notice the pain, but then you do feel it, a hot stinging ache that blooms across the side of your face. You shut your eyes tighter, your head swimming from the lingering drugs in your system and the force of the strike, and feel your body in a strange, unnatural position.

You feel the rough rope binding your wrists, and at the sound of a cranking noise, the ropes are pulled upwards, taking your arms with them until you’re standing on the balls of your feet. Forcing your eyes open, you look up at the squeaky pulleys and the intricate knotwork around your wrists. No surprise; Gus knew his sailors’ knots.

You try to take stock of your surroundings in the dark room, assuming that you’re in a garage or maybe a basement. There are no windows, and the ground is cold concrete that seems to permeate the air of the room, making you shiver. You’re still in your dress but your coat and shoes have been taken off, making you feel vulnerable.

The room is relatively barren, save for a nearby table covered with items. You take notice of a bucket of water, a large cooler, an assortment of knives, and something that looks suspiciously like a branding iron that has your heart racing… Before you can get a closer look, Gus steps between you and the table, taking up your entire field of vision. His rage is simmering under the surface, but you can tell that it’s very much present as he looks down at you. He’s taken off his leather jacket and shirt, leaving him in just his white vest and pants, and as you take in the size of his arms you recognize the intimidation tactic for what it is. Not that it was necessary – you didn’t need to see his muscles to know that he could pulverize you without even breaking a sweat.

“Y/N,” he says your name flatly, glaring down at you before walking around you in a slow, wide circle. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he repeats, tsking your name as if mightily disappointed. “What are we going to do with you?”

You don’t say anything – what could you even say? – and sense that he’s right behind you, close but not touching you, and the anticipation has you trembling as you stand on the tips of your toes, trying to give your arms the tiniest amount of slack. You know that Gus is about to start demanding answers, and you’re not sure what to tell him; you don’t know what he knows other than the name Jacob and that you were clearly not someone to be trusted. He could just be under the impression that you were seeing a man named Jacob, or he could know everything.

Suddenly your head is pulled back sharply, his fist tangled in your hair and his other hand reaching around you to grip your throat. You feel your pulse take off against his thumb and swallow thickly.

“I thought that we had something, that we were going somewhere. And we do, honey, and we are, even if you don’t see it yet,” Gus coos reassuringly, even as he tightens his grip on you.

“G-Gus–” you choke out, trying to reason with him, but he hisses in your ear for you to be quiet, releasing your hair to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back against him.

“Shut up,” he snarls. “You’ll speak when I tell you to.”

He shoves you forward suddenly, your body briefly swaying by your wrists as your feet try to find purchase on the floor. By the time you recover he’s standing in front of you again, looking you up and down in a way that has your hair standing on end.

“Now, you’re gonna answer all my questions, you’re gonna tell the fucking truth, and then we can start to move past this little bump in the road, got it?” You nod mutely and he gives you a pleased, toothy smile in return.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs, a large hand cupping your cheek fondly. You try not to wince at the pressure on your tender skin; you’re certain it’s already bruised. “Now, tell me: Who’s Jacob?”

“A friend, Gus, just an old friend.” You try to speak clearly and keep your eyes locked with his, trying to convey sincerity the best you can.

“Yeah? From where?”

“From school, years ago.” You try to keep as close to the truth as possible without revealing information, and ‘school’ was close enough to ‘academy’ to help you pass off the lie. “We worked together for a little while afterwards, but that’s all.”

“Really. And why were you meeting him yesterday? Giving him a thick-looking file?”

“It was just old notes from the office, Gus!” you lie, and you can immediately tell from his expression that he knows it. He backhands you hard enough to make you sway from the ceiling by your wrists, the ropes digging into your sensitive skin.

“What did I say about lying to me, honey?” he hisses, bending over to get in your face and pulling you closer by the hair when you flinch away.

“How is this–” he pauses to reach into his back pocket with his free hand, shoving the photograph in your face, “ –‘just old notes from the office,’ huh?!”

You freeze as you take in the photograph. It’s one of the photographs you’d taken of the stolen goods in Harbour Manor. The same photograph that the waiter had picked up by accident.

“Where did you get that picture?” you ask in a quiet, hoarse voice, already bracing yourself for the answer. He had gotten to Jacob somehow; he was the only person on earth with a copy of that photograph. Gus slaps you again, but you hardly feel it; you’re too distracted about the wellbeing of your friend.

“Remember who’s who in this interrogation, Officer. I’m the one asking the questions around here,” Gus warns, before giving you a cold, mocking smile. “But I’ll humour you, just this once. It was found in Jacob’s car, which was all smashed up on an empty stretch of highway.”

You shut your eyes tightly, a grimace contorting your features. Jacob was a good cop, but a better person. He had a family. He didn’t deserve to die like this, or die at all because of you.

“I guess he wasn’t paying close enough attention to his surroundings, or maybe he just lost control,” he continues, his voice brimming with vindictive pleasure. “It’s incredible how one slip-up, one wrong move can completely destroy someone…” he trails off.

“H-He h-has a wife! He h-has k-kids!” you wail in anguish, your heart breaking for the man and his family.

You’re too wrapped up in your grief to be sure how long Gus stands there in silence, watching you cry as you mourn the loss of your friend, but you can feel his eyes on you the entire time. Your body is wracked with sobs despite your unnatural position, tears pouring down your face and dripping down your chin.

“Oh, sweetheart. I didn’t know you were such a romantic,” Gus croons, pulling you into him and off your feet and holding you against his chest, his hands at your lower back and rubbing in slow circles. “But then, I guess I don’t know much about you at all, huh?”

You don’t reply; you’re not sure you could even if you wanted to. Gus doesn’t take well to your silence, slapping you, shaking you roughly by the shoulders, screaming at you, but you’re only distantly aware of it all, feeling strangely numb and disconnected from your body.

“Look at me, Nat! Fucking look at me!” he roars, and that name has you both freezing and making eye contact with one another for the first time since things had escalated. He stares at you, silently daring you to call him out on his blunder, but you don’t acknowledge it, even though you both know what he’d said. Him referring to you by his ex-wife’s name is a very, very bad sign for you.

“I don’t like hurting you, you know,” he says with a dejected sigh, loosening his bruising grip on your shoulders. “You were becoming the most important thing in my life. You believe me, right? Right!?” he demands, shaking you around like a limp ragdoll. “But I need to let you know that you can’t do this again, honey. No more cops, no more fighting, no more lying; that’s all over. You made me fall for you, Y/N, and I’m not letting you go.”

The passionate way he speaks reveals the depth of his obsession with you just as much as his words, and both positively terrify you, shifting your focus from Jacob to your own situation for the first time. Before you have a chance to speak, he’s bowed his head down to yours, capturing your lips in a ferocious, possessive kiss that you can’t shy away from.

So instead, you kick him between the legs as hard as you can, not thinking of your bound hands or anything else to do with your situation beyond getting him off of you.

He howls into your mouth before staggering backwards and curling into himself. You frantically look up at your hands to see if there’s any way to free yourself, but you know that it’s hopeless, and when you look back at Gus he’s glaring at you with dark eyes, and you know it’s going to be bad.

“I didn’t mean to, it was just a reflex! I–” your excuses are cut off as he punches you in the stomach, pushing the air from your lungs.

“You’re going to pay for that, you bitch.”

Your body instinctively tries to move into the fetal position to protect your stomach, but you can't, dangling from the ceiling as you are, and so you settle for catching your breath and trying not to be sick instead. Once you can breathe a bit more easily you look back to Gus to see him grabbing the large cooler off the table and bringing it over. Throwing the top open, he picks up a large block of ice, setting it down just in front of you without a word and walking off behind you.

The room is silent, save for your shaky breaths. You can’t seem to move your gaze from the ice in front of you, possibilities of what he’s going to do with it, do with you, racing through your mind.

Finally, you hear the clunking noise of a crank being turned and feel the tension of the ropes start to pull you upwards by the wrists, and you close your eyes to try and brace yourself for the incoming pain. Time moves agonizingly slowly as your arms are pulled up higher and higher, your shoulders twinging as gravity fights against your bondage until you’re worried your shoulders will dislocate.

You force your eyes open, looking through your tears for Gus to beg and scream for mercy, and your eyes fall on the ice block once more. You realize now what he’s doing.

Against your mind’s wishes, your body moves to relieve itself of the pressure it’s under, and you climb onto it, the stinging cold immediate on your aching, bare feet. Gus can clearly see you from where he’s working the crank, because it continues pulling your arms up until they’re raised above your head again. The crank is locked in place and Gus casually comes back into view, leaning against the table as he watches you shifting from foot to foot, trying to give the soles of your feet some relief. The pain is a burning cold, and wordless whines escape through your clenched jaw as you grit your teeth.

“G-Gus,” you moan his name, staring at him desperately. “Gus, p-please let me down!” you beg, forcing yourself to push through the pain. You truly have no idea how long you’ve been standing on this block of ice, but it feels like eternity, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

Gus appears unmoved, toying with one of the knives on the table as he drinks in your suffering, his eyes glittering.

“Please, Gus! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please make it stop!” you wail. “I don’t know what you want, but I’ll do it, I swear I will!” you promise, telling yourself you’ll cross that bridge when you came to it.

A slight smile plays at his lips, and he wanders behind you again, lowering the ropes enough to let you step off the ice and lower your arms to your sides with a few feet of slack; enough to move, but not to run. It hurts to stand, but at least you can – you’re surprised that you managed to convince Gus to show you even this shred of mercy. As he comes back to the table you follow his movements with your eyes, trying to get a read on him. Had he hit his limit for torture?

In one fluid motion, he picks up the bucket of water off of the table and pours it over your feet.

The pain is absolutely indescribable.

You immediately collapse to the floor, shrieking like a wounded animal and trying to keep your feet off the wet floor. The rest of your body is telling you that the water is tepid, cool even, but to the frozen and frayed nerves of your feet it feels scalding.

“You’ll do what I want?!” Gus snarls down at you as you writhe on the floor in agony, still screaming. “You promise?!” He kicks you in the ribs, turning you onto your back with the toe of his boot. “What I wanted was to be able to trust you, Y/N, but you had to go and fuck that up.”

There’s a momentary reprieve from his assault as he moves to the table, and then he reappears with a sharp knife in hand, squatting down beside you and levelling you with a crazed, heartbroken look.

“What I want now is to make you hurt the way you’ve hurt me, sweetheart. And that’s what I’m gonna do.”

He takes the knife in one hand and the hem of your dress in the other, pulling it taut as he starts to cut through the fabric. You try to shy away from him and the blade but he merely tightens his grip and presses down harder. You feel the knife cut through a few layers of skin from your bellybutton to the hollow of your throat, and as he peels your dress off you can see crimson droplets appearing in the wake of the blade.

You stop thrashing and let out a whimper that becomes a gasp as you feel his warm, wet tongue lick up the trail of blood. You shudder, repulsed by the action.

“You’re so pretty when you bleed for me, baby,” he groans against your skin, cutting away your undergarments and leaving you bare on the cold concrete floor.

“I’m gonna make sure every inch of you shows that you belong to me.”

You manage to mentally disconnect from your body – it’s nothing you’ve consciously done, just your brain’s way of protecting you from Gus’s assault. He seems intent on covering every inch of your skin in a mark; a scratch from his nails or his knife, bruises from his teeth and his fists. You distantly hear yourself screaming, feel the dull ache radiating off of every inch of you, but you’re mostly focused on the bare lightbulb above you, the image scorching itself into your retinas. It’s like he’s trying to destroy you, to mash you up with his hands as though you’re made of clay so he can remake you into the loyal girl he thought you were.

Then, suddenly, it stops.

When he kisses you, the touch is so gentle that it jolts you from the surprise; you didn’t think he was capable of such a gesture after all of this. Your body doesn’t respond in any way, just laying limply on the cold hard floor beneath him. Continuing with the gentle treatment, he lifts you into his arms – you’re not sure if you’re not in agony because he’s being careful with you, or if you just can’t feel anymore – and places you on the table, the difference in temperature welcome to your freezing body.

“By the time these heal, you won’t need them to remind you that you’re mine.” He promises, running his hands across your battered body like he’s savouring every mark on your skin. You’re shivering, you’re sweating from just enduring the torture, you’re barely able to stay awake – you’re not sure why you’re bothering to try to at all.

“And if you need a reminder, we can always try something else…” He says, his voice soft and dangerous as he lifts the branding iron into view, turning it over. You see the twisted metal is curved into his initials, G.T., and your stomach roils at the thought.

“No, please!” you whimper, your hand coming up to grab his wrist before you’ve thought about it. He looks from your hand on his wrist up to your eyes, still holding the branding iron, but doesn’t make a move to hit you or remove himself from your weak grip.

“It’ll put you at risk if anyone ever saw it,” you offer weakly, trying to think up a reason for him to not go through with it. He gives you an amused smile, humouring your attempt at persuasion. You bite your tongue, bracing yourself to speak the words that will throw your remaining dignity and self-respect out the window.

“And… I know I’m yours,” you whisper, forcing yourself to maintain his gaze as you search his eyes, trying to read his thoughts. You think you see a shred of vulnerability in those cold blue orbs, and push yourself to exploit it. “I’m all yours, Gus.”

He knows you’re lying, you know he does, but seeing you force yourself to say those words out loud is as good a form of surrender as any in his eyes.

He lowers the branding iron, and you start to breathe again.

He looks down at you, one hand over his mouth as he considers what to do with you, and you don’t even think about moving or speaking, not wanting to set him off again. Finally, he laughs quietly to himself, and the sound immediately has you on edge again.

“All mine, huh? I think we should consummate that,” he says decisively, scooping you up off the table and knocking everything else off of it with a sweep of his arm, sending the torture implements clattering to the floor. He turns you in his arms and bends you over the table, your injuries screaming in protest. You hear him unbuckling his belt and start to panic but he holds you down, leaning over you and pressing you down with his body. Oh God no.

“Did you know that the expression ‘to have somebody over a barrel’ was originally a nautical term?” he asks in your ear, his voice calm and nearly cheerful as he pins you against the table. You can feel him reach between you and start to stroke himself. You don’t speak, you can’t, instead shaking your head in response to his question, hoping that maybe if you obey the best you can he’ll reconsider what he’s about to do. Just the thought has you fighting to keep your body from trembling.

“It’s from when sailors could be disciplined by being bent over a barrel in front of their crewmates and getting flogged,” he continues casually, as though you were discussing the weather. But then a hand fists in your hair, pulling your head back until you’re looking at him upside down, your back arching well past the point of comfort.

“I thought about bringing back that tradition with you, of letting the crew take turns with you for how you tried to fuck us over. I was about ready to let them ruin you, fuck you in every hole until you didn’t know your own name. But no. You’re mine, you fucked with me, and I’m going to dole out enough punishment for everyone.”

You’re hyperventilating, the action drawing your attention to your bruised ribs, but Gus pays you no mind, instead cutting the ropes free from the pulley system to first tie your arms to your sides, and then to tie you to the table, the ropes digging into the sensitive flesh of your waist as you struggle against him. Feeling some of your injuries start to bleed again as the rough rope tears into your skin, you force yourself to stop, one swollen cheek pressed flat against the table. You try to see him through your peripheral vision, but you can’t turn yourself enough with the ropes holding you tightly how he wants you.

“Gus,” you whimper out his name, knowing that trying to talk him out of this is futile but also knowing that you have to try. “Gus, please don’t. Just give me some time, let me heal up a bit, and I – I’ll be willing. I’ll be yours, I won’t fight, but just don’t –”

“Ssshhhh…” Gus hisses, coming to stand in front of you. He pulls you up by the hair, lifting you off the table to face him. You glance down against your better judgement and glimpse his long, thick cock, and your entire body shudders in fear and revulsion. You don’t think that something that big could ever fit inside you comfortably, even if you wanted it. The mere thought of him forcing himself inside you when you were unwilling has you thrashing against your bondage again. Of all the torture you’d been exposed to tonight – the beatings, the ice, the threat of being branded – none of them come close to what this will do to you.

“I’m gonna have all of you, Y/N, you hear me?” He grips your chin roughly, tilting your head so that you’re looking up at him as he speaks. “I’ve got your body, but I want your mind, your heart, your soul… and I’ll have them eventually. For now, I’ll settle for what I’ve got, even if I have to tie you down to take it.”

“No…” you groan, your tears streaming down your cheeks and onto Gus’s hand.

“I know you’re scared, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting. But it’ll get better over time, I promise. Once you can admit you love me like I love you, this is gonna be magic.”

He holds three of his fingers in front of your face, all bundled together, and you shy away. He lets out a long, drawn-out sigh of disapproval.

“I’m offering you a chance to make this better for yourself, Y/N. Suck my fingers, get them nice and wet – it’s the only lube you’re getting.”

Looking up at him with pleading eyes, you reluctantly force your jaw to open, laying your tongue flat against the bottom of your mouth. A rumble emanates from Gus’s chest, his eyes glittering at the show of obedience.

“That’s it, that’s good. Now, no teeth, sweetheart, or you’ll regret it,” he warns, turning your head so that your gaze falls to the branding iron that he had knocked to the floor. You swallow thickly, nodding silently. All you can do is give in at this point, and hope that it makes this process remotely less traumatic.

Gus slides his fingers past your lips and deep into your mouth, making you gag as they brush against your throat. You push past the discomfort, sealing your lips around him. Your mouth is bone dry out of fear and disgust, so you wriggle your tongue along the underside of his fingers, trying to stimulate saliva production. Gradually, it begins to work, and Gus gives you a feral grin of approval.

“Oh, good girl!” he leers, pumping his fingers into your mouth. “Yeah, just like that!”

Eventually he pulls his fingers free with a ‘pop!’ before turning to position his hard cock just in front of your chin. You resist the urge to flinch.

“Spit on it,” he commands, and you obey, doing your best to force saliva out of your mouth, a string of drool connecting your lower lip to the head of his cock. He greedily gathers it with a finger, coating his cock as he moves to walk around the table. You brace yourself, but are unable to keep your body from shuddering. You feel his slippery fingers at your entrance and reflexively lurch forward, the lip of the table digging into your stomach, and force yourself to relax – you didn’t want to give him any reason to be rougher with you.

“That’s right, honey, just relax,” Gus croons, watching you fight your instinct to escape him. He enters you with two fingers abruptly, stretching you out, and you let out a cry of pain. His other hand runs down your spine, the light touch still managing to exacerbate your injuries.

“You look so good like this, Y/N,” he groans, keeping his hand at the small of your back as he withdraws his fingers from you to line his cock up at your entrance. “With every inch of you marked as mine. I’m gonna own you inside and out, so just relax and let me in.”

His hips surge forward to meet yours, his cock feeling like it’s splitting you open and you groan, your nails digging into your palms as you try to distract yourself from his intrusion. He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back so he can whisper in your ear, his hips thrusting slow and deep as they open you up. You swear you can feel every part of his cock rubbing at your inner walls, claiming you as his, and every pump of his hips makes you gasp, whiny little ‘ah, ah, ah’s that punctuate his movements within you.

“Oh fuck yes, baby, you’re so tight,” he grunts through gritted teeth, his breath hot on the back of your neck. “That’s it, just let me have you, let me make you mine. Now moan for me, like a good little whore, or I’ll give you something to moan about.”

Something about his words makes something within you snap, and you find yourself dissociating from the experience, feeling like you’re in an almost trance-like state. You moan low and loud, the sound devoid of passion, and simulate making love with him, following his instructions in your ear mechanically. You try to keep your body relaxed and close your mind off to what you’re doing, but his thrusts keep bringing you back to the present.

“Tell me who this tight little cunt belongs to,” he snarls, straightening up and gripping your bruised, bloodied hips in his large hands, kneading and pinching at your tender flesh. “Tell me that you’re mine,” he demands, punctuating every word with a thrust of his cock.

“Ahh yes, Gus! I’m yours, I’m all yours!” you scream, your eyes shut tight like you’re trying to block out your own words. Just when you start to hope against hope that this is almost at an end, Gus pulls out, coming back to stand in front of you.

“Hearing you scream for me is music to my ears, baby,” he purrs approvingly. “Arch up for me.”

You do your best, fighting the ropes and your injured body to straighten up, lifting your head and torso off the table; it’s a deeply uncomfortable position. Gus immediately reaches for you, fondling your chest with rough fingers. You fight to keep yourself upright, staring up at him through your tears. This couldn’t go on forever; you just have to hold out a little longer.

“Suck my cock, Y/N,” he murmurs, the threatening tone out of his voice, and you know that he's testing your obedience. “And you’ll want to be thorough to help you handle what’s coming next.”

Your whole body tenses up at the implication, and he gives you a patronizing smile, lightly slapping at your cheek to get you to open your mouth.

“Never taken it in the ass before, huh? At least there’s one first left for me to have.” He seems insanely thrilled at the thought of claiming any warped form of your remaining virginity, outright grinning at you now as he brings his cock to your lips. “And remember, no teeth, or I’ll change my mind about letting the crew have their turn with you.”

“Gus–” you try to cut in to plea your case, your little dissociative bubble popping at the thought of him taking you in the ass, but the moment you open your mouth he’s thrust himself inside. It’s impossible to even try to speak around his cock, so you don’t bother, saving your breath as he fucks your face.

Tears are pouring down your cheeks and mixing with the drool dripping down your chin, and he hums in approval at the depraved scene before him.

“That pretty little mouth was made to please,” he moans, his balls hitting your chin with the force of his thrusts down your throat. “Do that little thing with your tongue, like you did to my fingers.”

His request has you thinking that if you can get him off, he won’t be able to rape you anywhere else, at least for the moment. Pushing past your mangled pride and dignity, you force yourself to please him as best you can, moaning around his cock, bobbing your head and swirling your tongue around his length like you couldn't get enough.

Gus notices the change immediately, throwing his head back as you let him push past your gag reflex and take him fully into your mouth and throat, your eyes watering. He thrusts into you three more times, holding himself deep inside you before pulling out reluctantly, giving you a wicked smile.

“You almost had me, sneaky woman,” he confesses with a wry grin, tapping your nose almost affectionately. “Almost had me losing control and coming on that tongue.”

You look up at him guiltily, hating that you were caught, and that you’d just willingly sucked the bastard off for no reason. He seems to be able to read your thoughts like they’re written all over your face, and he knows just what to say to make his words sting.

“But I’ll keep in mind how eager you are to give head, my little siren. I’ll make sure you get lots of opportunity for it,” he winks at you conspiratorially, like he’s letting you in on a secret. “But not even your willing, desperate mouth is going to distract me from finishing your punishment, Y/N.”

“Gus, please!” you scream frantically as he starts to walk around the table. “Please, I can’t take anymore! I’ll be good, I’ll be yours, I’ll be anything you want, just please don’t!”

“Oh, baby girl,” he coos, pausing to spit lewdly on your puckered hole, the head of his cock immediately pressing against it. “I know you’re gonna be good, gonna be mine. This is gonna guarantee it.”

It feels like he’s using his entire body, all of his strength to hold you down and spread you open as he forces his cock inside your ass, your throat burning and raw from the force of your shrieks. You dig your nails into your thighs until they bleed as he works his way inside of you, bottoming out after what seems like an eternity.

Gus stills, panting from exertion and sweat dripping onto your battered back and making your cuts sting, though the pain is nothing compared to the sensation of having your organs rearranged from his cock inside you.

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses through gritted teeth, “and I thought your cunt was tight. Fucking hell, baby, this body was made to take my cock!” He lets out a breathless chuckle, and you feel it inside of you.

“I’m gonna pound your ass so good, princess, and I want you to beg. I want you to beg for more, beg for me to come in you until I do. And if you don’t, I’ll find something else to fuck you with until you learn to do what I say.”

This was it; you had nothing left. He had taken everything from you. Once you did this (and you would), you’d belong to him.

You don’t try to resist; instead, you fight your body’s instinct to scream and cry and instead force yourself to give him what he wants, screaming his name, begging for him to use you, your moans of pain almost sounding convincing as cries of pleasure. You’ll give Gus what he wants, you’ll do anything to keep this from ever happening again.

Finally, his hips start to stutter, his grip on you tightening, and you know he’s close.

“Guuuus,” you groan, his name one long, pained syllable. “Please come in me!”

He does with an inhuman roar, and you feel him shoot his load deep inside you, marking your insides as belonging to him. His large body pins you down as he catches his breath, and then he shoves off of you, pulling out and gathering his clothes while you lay boneless over the table. You barely notice when he cuts you loose, your body slumping to the ground. You whine, not speaking, not thinking; there’s nothing to think.

Gus comes to stand in front of you, gently wrapping his leather jacket around your mutilated form and lifting you into his arms. Your body is shutting down, your eyes closed as you try to focus on your breathing, and it takes you a moment to realize that he is kissing you, his lips and tongue claiming you as well.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, baby,” he coos down at you sweetly. “Then we can start over.”

He carries you out of the room slowly. You’re not sure of what you're leaving behind, of where you’ve been this whole time; you pass out before you reach the door. [No picture with good enough quality to be worth including - feel free to send one if you have it!]

---

Epilogue

[karatekels]

Finally! For so long there was almost no Gus content (I remember one great post with headcanons from @terrence-silver and some lovely fanarts here and there but that's it). I can't wait to read your stories!

Since you mentioned you're waiting for asks could your write a story about reader being undercover cop trying to infiltrate Gus and his group but he finds out and decides to punish her?

Hello everyone, I've missed you! Thanks for bearing with me through the combination of life and getting shadowbanned. This request is one I had initially planned to add to Dark Desires October, but we're well past that now, so just enjoy! This is going to have a very dark second chapter and then a short epilogue, so stay tuned!

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TW: Crime, stalking, domestic violence (referenced), assault or murder (implied, off-screen), slipping someone drugs, abduction [and it will only get worse from here]

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In Deep Water

Chapter 1: Making Waves

You check the watch on your wrist again; it’s nearly four o’clock in the morning. The sun will be rising soon – you have to get out of here quickly.

You take one last crack at the safe, holding your breath as you try to work out the combination, your earpiece connected to a diaphragm that lets you hear the tiniest clicks from within the safe like a stethoscope. There’s a clunk, and you barely keep yourself from letting out a cry of victory as you pull open the door to the safe, your gloved hands greedily reaching in and pulling out the binders of bonds. You slip them into the bag on your back before resetting the safe and hightailing it out of there, your footsteps barely audible.

Once you’re out of the building you keep to the shadows as you make your way to the nearby docks, trying to keep your pace measured to avoid attracting unwanted attention on the off-chance somebody was awake and watching. Your target was a smaller, lesser crime family, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t dangerous.

You make it to the docks just before sunrise, joining three other men in ski masks and hoods, identical bags slung over their shoulders. Right on schedule, The Lucky Mermaid drives up, stopping right at the edge of the dock and allowing you all to quickly hop aboard, disappearing out into the open ocean – you would put some time and distance between the boat and the warehouse you had just hit before looping around and returning to shore.

You all make your way into the cabin where the captain is steering the ship, the five of you crowded in the cramped space. Everyone else towers over you – they were big, tough-looking men, far more like the stereotypical criminal than your own short, slender frame. The captain in particular can barely stand upright in the cabin, his messy brown curls hanging in his eyes as he looks down at you, slightly stooped over.

“You get ‘em?” he asks you with a sly grin. You nod, pulling off your bag and opening it to reveal its contents. Gus thumbs through the bonds, his hand briefly brushing yours as you hold the bag open for him, and your breath hitches at the contact.

“Nice work,” he praises you, clapping you on the shoulder with a large hand and giving it a squeeze. “Bit of a rush, isn’t it?” he says knowingly, his blue eyes bright. You grin at him, tugging off your ski mask and letting your hair down.

“It’s definitely more enjoyable stealing from the competition!” you agree, smiling at him before pulling your hoodie over your head. You add your mask and hoodie to the bag one of the crew holds out for you and put on your favourite blue one; the sea breeze is chilly, and you want to differentiate yourself from the shadowy figure in dark clothing that had just stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of bonds.

The others add their gear to the bag, which is then stowed in the storage compartment under one of the benches, out of sight.

“Well, I think we all agree that you have more than earned a place for yourself on my crew, Y/N,” Gus tells you with a warm smile, the rest of the team murmuring their agreement, and you lift one side of your mouth in a lopsided grin.

“Of course I have,” you say with mock-arrogance. “None of you big oafs could have fit through that window!”

The others laugh good-naturedly, gradually shuffling off to find a flask to warm their bodies or a corner to rest in; the day had just begun, but your shifts were over. You stay standing next to Gus, still unaccustomed to being at sea and needing to look out on the horizon to prevent yourself from getting nauseated. You’re both quiet for awhile, not speaking until he begins to steer the boat in a wide turn, heading for Harbour Manor.

“You’re sure that I’m good enough to be on your crew?” you ask Gus hesitantly, worrying your lower lip between your teeth as you look up to him.

“Good enough?” he repeats incredulously, raising an eyebrow at you. “Sweetheart, you’re going to be my secret weapon!”

You give him a shy smile at his reassurance, and he grins at you, his eyes lingering long enough that you feel the need to repress a sudden shiver. His faith in you isn’t something to be taken lightly; he was fairly high up in Malcolm’s ever-expanding mob, having risen through the ranks over the years. For him to have taken you under his wing in just over a month was nothing short of a miracle considering his paranoia, especially when it came to women; there's a reason that you are the only girl on his crew.

One of the other members of Gus’s team had spoken to you briefly about it, once – Gus hadn’t worked with a woman since his ex-wife, Natalie, who had betrayed him and ran off with some guy (and his money) a couple of years ago. Apparently Gus had been infuriated for ages, before seeming to bottle it up suddenly one day and channel it into aggressively working his way up to the upper echelon of Malcolm’s organization. Regardless, you being accepted into his crew is no small feat.

You’d gotten the sense that maybe he was interested in you – you’d felt his eyes on you before you’d even spoken, that first day you had seen each other, before you had even done anything worth catching his eye, so presumably you were somewhat attractive to him. You’d caught him still staring as you snatched an inattentive businessman’s wallet, and initially thought that he was going to rat you out, his eyes glittering as they tracked your movements. But he hadn’t; in fact, he’d pointed the man in the wrong direction, giving you the opportunity to slip away. Your mouth had dropped open in surprise, and all he’d done was wink at you before you both moved to disappear into the crowd.

You’d gone out of your way to “accidentally” run into him again on more than one occasion, introducing yourself and making small talk, never once bringing up the circumstances of your first encounter. Then he started taking the initiative, showing up at places he knew you would be. And then, one day, he’d taken you to the shore to look at this very boat, asking if you wanted to work with him and what that entailed. It was a far more sustainable way to get by than your petty, solo thieving, and you had eagerly accepted the opportunity, both of you very obviously pleased you could spend more time together.

“Earth to Y/N!” Gus teases, pulling you out of your reminiscing. You blink a few times, looking up at him with embarrassment. “What were you just thinking about so hard, huh?” he asks with a grin.

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry!” you apologize sheepishly. “I was just thinking about…” you bite your lip nervously, trying to build up the nerve to tell him. “…about how different my life is going to be now. Because of you,” you tell him, trying to convey the depth of your gratitude in your gaze. “Thank you, Gus, for giving me a chance to make something of myself.”

For one long moment, Gus stares at you deeply, his expression unreadable. You find yourself fighting to keep still and maintain eye contact with him. Eventually he blinks, lifting one corner of his mouth in a smile.

“Yeah well, don’t let me down, alright?” he says, and you give him a mocking salute, biting your tongue to keep your face neutral.

Gus eventually pulls the boat into the marina, and the other members of the crew hop out and begin tying off the boat.

“Let’s go, Y/N – we’ll need to keep all of this in one place!” one of the crewmates calls to you from the dock, beckoning you to disembark The Lucky Mermaid and join them.

“Actually, I need to chat with Y/N for awhile longer,” Gus cuts in with a tone of finality that leaves no room for argument. He pulls the backpack off of you and tosses it to the crew. “Take hers with you, Alex.”

The man immediately obeys, throwing your bag over his other shoulder, and the three men move to shore. You turn to look up at Gus, trying not to be nervous – this is the first time you’ve been alone with him since you had first started talking, and this is definitely a more secluded location than your previous, public encounters.

“We should do something to celebrate your first successful job. Are you free for dinner tonight?” he asks, getting right to the point. You find yourself gaping at him.

“You… you want to take me to dinner?” you stammer, somewhat incredulous, and you’re sure you must be blushing like mad right about now. Gus seems to be taking in your butterflies with a good deal of amusement, giving you a charming smile. “Like a date?”

“Maybe. It could be,” he says, shrugging his big shoulders and trying to play it off casual. “I had to make sure you were good to run with us before anything else, and now I have. So how about it?”

“I… yeah,” you reply eagerly, still processing the surprising invitation. “I mean, yes, Gus, I’d love to!” you tack on, flustered, and his grin widens.

“Great! How’s Brigoli’s, 7 o’clock?”

That would give you the day to catch up on sleep, maybe get some other work done, and still have time to make yourself look presentable.

“Sounds perfect, Gus. I’ll see you tonight!” you beam at him before nimbly hopping onto the dock, heading for home.

---

The minute you get home and lock your front door behind you, you collapse back against the door, clapping a hand over your mouth. It had worked; you were in with Gus’s gang, and he wanted a more intimate relationship with you.

You desperately want to take a shower and nap, but you need to update your report before you started forgetting details. You head into your bedroom, removing the picture hanging on the wall to reveal a hole concealing a laptop and a wireless router; you leave your badge and gun tucked in the corner of the hidden area.

Opening the computer, your eyes briefly skim the report in progress. You had been investigating Malcolm’s gang for over a year now, and had been looking at Gus in particular for the past four months. After two months of recon, it was determined that you would be the best candidate to go undercover as a petty thief in the hopes of attracting his attentions and getting close.

And you had.

You’d known it was a risk, getting a dangerous, temperamental guy with a history of DV to be interested in you, but if you succeeded in your ruse and got in close, you would be privy to everything in time. And you suppose it wasn’t all acting – Augustus Travis was scum, an abusive man and a criminal through-and-through, but he was more than easy on the eyes. You allowed yourself to check him out during your time together – it would only strengthen your disguise (or so you told yourself).

You take off your shirt, retrieving the tiny camera stashed in your bra, and connect it to the laptop, placing both back in the hidden alcove and replacing the painting. The videos you had taken could back up while you took a shower, but you could never be too careful, and didn’t want to risk leaving such important evidence out unattended, even in your own home.

You hop in the shower, the hot water helping to relax your tight muscles – you found you were always tense these days, the pressure of being caught overwhelming – and try to think of a to-do list while you wash up.

You were scheduled to meet your handler later on today at a local café to give him an update. Jacob was an old friend that you'd trained at the academy with, and it had been decided that having him liaise with you would be safer than one of the more local cops – he shouldn’t be recognized. In some ways, you found interacting with Jacob more difficult with Gus. It was much harder to stay in character when you were talking to someone who actually knew the real you.

You’d check the video uploads once you were out of the shower, nap for a few hours, put together the updated report and print it out to take with you to the meeting. There are a few photographs in particular of the inside of Harbour Manor – what the team had seized in a recent heist, before you had been added to the team – that would go a long way in a criminal trial against Gus, Malcolm, and the whole group. You’d probably get back from meeting Jacob in the late afternoon, giving yourself a bit of time to unwind and prepare for your dinner with Gus.

This was going to work; you could handle playing house with the man.

You’d have to.

Gus’s POV:

Gus shows up outside your house just after noon, after having rested up a bit at the Manor. He liked keeping an eye on you, even if that was only in the form of watching your house while you slept the day away, telling himself that it was just to make sure you weren’t lying to him.

Perhaps it was a bit more than that.

He needed to be sure that you were safe, that you were coming back to him; he needed you in ways he’s not entirely comfortable with.

He hasn’t felt this way since Nat.

He thinks you might be better.

Yeah, maybe he’s being a bit overzealous – you’d only just agreed to go out with him today, after all – so what? He was devoted, committed, passionate. Women appreciated that.

The tinted windows of Alex’s car afford him the perfect view of the front of your house – he knew you would recognize his own vehicle, and he doesn’t want you knowing about the depth of his desires quite yet. You’re probably still asleep; it had been a long night. Perhaps he could slip in just to pay you a visit, just to take in the sight of you at your most vulnerable…

Your front door opens suddenly and he jumps slightly despite himself. Just where the hell did you think you were going?

You’re dressed better than you usually are when you’re looking to swipe a few wallets, and you’re on the phone with someone. He opens the app on his phone that allows him to listen in through the bug he’d planted under your mailbox – being one of Malcolm’s top guys had its perks, and after the incident with his ex-wife, he’d learned to keep track of what was his.

“ –there in about half an hour. No, not the Sea urchin Café, the Seahorse Café!” you clarify, and Gus’s jaw clenches. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to seeing you too! Bye.”

You hang up and walk down the path to your driveway, getting into your car and driving off without a second thought. He debates following, but it would be too suspicious. Plus, he already knows where you’re going.

Scrolling through the contacts on his phone, he finds Frankie’s number. Frankie was an… associate… that worked as a waiter at the Seahorse Café. It provided him ample opportunities to eavesdrop, and it was much easier to conduct ‘business’ in broad daylight when someone on the inside was there to help set things up and keep things quiet. Gus had him stationed at the Café and Louie at Brigoli’s; he’d long since made a habit of having eyes everywhere, since he (regrettably) couldn’t be everywhere at once.

He dials the phone.

“Hey, Frankie? It’s Gus. I need a favour.”

He rattles off the request, giving him your general description and asking him to keep an eye out for you… and whoever you met with. As soon as Frankie is satisfied with his promised payment, Gus hangs up, immediately starting the engine and heading over to the Café. He needs to see this for himself.

He pulls up to the restaurant just in time to see you stand from your chair, greeting a lanky blond man with a smile and a hug that has him seeing red. Infuriated, he sends off some quick texts to Frankie, demanding he determine their relationship as soon as possible. If you were with someone else, if you had lied to his face and told him you wanted him…

He isn’t sure what he’ll do.

Over the next hour or so, Frankie sends him short updates that mostly alleviate his suspicions, though he still can’t help himself, watching your lunch through the restaurant’s windows:

They’re friends.

Old coworkers maybe.

Looks like she just brought some stuff to give him to help him out.

Gus is mostly mollified, but still jealous – he should be the one you’re doing favours for, the one you obey unquestioningly, the one you stick to like glue...

He’s so distracted by his possessive thoughts and dark desires that he misses the awkward, fumbling exchange that you and the man you were with have with Frankie before quickly moving to pay your bill and leave. But he is notified of the situation by a new text from Frankie that pulls him out of his fantasizing:

She’s a cop.

He freezes, the words initially failing to register. When they finally sink in, he’s still not buying it. There was no way. Still, he watches you leave, taking note of the other man’s license plate as he drives off, just in case, and then drives to the back of the restaurant, ordering Frankie to come give him an update face-to-face in a terse text message.

The man climbs into the passenger seat a few minutes later, closing the door behind him.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s a cop?!” Gus hisses at him, getting right to the point. Frankie immediately raises his hands in surrender.

“Look, they were wrapping up their meal and she accidentally knocked over the file folder she’d brought – they’d talked about it like it was some old records for work, and a photograph slipped out. I grabbed it to give back to her, and she completely froze – she looked terrified. I took a quick glance, and…” he hesitates, probably wishing there was more space between himself and an increasingly irate-looking Gus.

“It was the loot from the heist we did a few weeks back, in the Manor, man. If she’s not a cop, she’s at least feeding info to someone else.”

Gus’s rage pours out of him in tangible waves, but he is completely silent for a long moment.

“Get out.”

Frankie all but dives for the door’s handle, flinging himself out of the car to escape, and Gus immediately speeds off in the direction of the Manor, seething.

First Nat, now you? At least Nat had had some loyalty, in the beginning, but now you were coming in to fuck him over, and you’d been lying the whole time? After he’d worked so hard, built himself up, made something of himself? You were going to take everything he’d worked for, take him down, leave him?

No. Not this time. You’d never get the chance.

The minute he reaches Harbour Manor he’s making calls: one to a dealer, one to Louie at Brigoli’s, and one to his guy on the inside at the local car insurance company, who confirmed the car the guy you’d met with had left in as being registered to one Jacob Henson, as well as the man’s address. He jots the information down and hangs up the phone, and just looks down at the slip of paper, a hand covering his mouth.

What a fucking mess you’ve caused by doing this to him.

But it’s nothing compared to what he’s going to do to you.

He moves to the foyer at the front of the house, hollering for Alex and tossing the man his car keys back when he appears at the top of the stairs.

“You’re gonna go find someone for me,” he tells the younger man, handing him the information about Jacob. “And they’re gonna have an accident.”

---

By the time Gus is at the restaurant waiting for you, he’s calmed down somewhat, knowing that it’s necessary if he wants to execute his part of the plan. He’s in a booth that gives the table a degree of privacy but that is close enough to the front for an easy getaway, which would be needed to get you out of here.

You arrive a short time later looking lovely and innocent and he hates you; you could’ve been his partner; now it would take longer, take more work to break you in. But he would break you in with time; he’d picked up a few things since Nat, and would have you compliant and submissive and his in time.

“Hi Gus,” you greet him with a shy smile, and now that he knows it’s bullshit he wants to beat the fake expression right off your beautiful face. Instead, he grins warmly at you, eyes raking over your body poured into a tight black dress. Even if you’d faked your attraction to him, he could still fuck you, he thinks to himself, and the idea helps him stay calm. There will be time to lash out at you later.

“You clean up good, Y/N,” he leers, keeping up the act just as you are, and continues flirting with you until Louie shows up with champagne and two glasses. You look over to him questioningly, and he smiles.

“I mentioned that we were celebrating tonight,” he admits, trying to sound bashful. Louie leaves once he has taken your order and Gus slides a flute over to you, raising his to you.

“To a long and successful working relationship,” he toasts in a low, husky voice, his eyes dark as he watches you bite your lip to keep back what he presumes is a guilty smile before you raise your own glass to clink with his.

“Working relationship, huh?” you tease after a sip of your beverage, and he makes a point of looking you up and down, considering which parts of your body will look the best bloodied and battered.

“Among other things,” he adds suggestively, giving you a wink. You blush and lick your lips, and he senses that your attraction to him may not be a complete lie. That boded well for your future together; it made you even marginally closer to giving into him. That had not been the case with Nat, when he’d first met her – it had been a struggle in the beginning, getting her to accept his love. But she had... Eventually.

He refocuses on you, not wanting to waste any more thought on his traitorous bitch of an ex-wife. You’re surveying him over your champagne, the romantic lighting making your eyes flicker at him. You clearly hadn’t noticed the trace amounts of powder in the bottom of your champagne glass, and as he watches you take another sip he wonders how long it will take for the rohypnol to take effect. He’s nearly giddy at the thought.

“So, was getting me to work with you all just a ploy to get us closer together?” you ask coyly, looking over at him with a flirty smile.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think we could get a bit closer,” he purrs, pointedly sliding a little closer to you in the booth. Time to see how far you were willing to take this thing…

He can hear your soft gasp from across the table, and watches as you gather the nerve to join him, slowly moving yourself down the booth towards him. Halfway to him, your hand slips and you fall forward into his lap with a squeak.

“Oh, sorry!” you say, giggling breathlessly as you right yourself, moving to sit beside him. “That champagne went right to my head!”

“No need to apologize, sweetheart. I’m more than alright with you throwing yourself at me,” he teases, reaching over to take your cheek in his hand gently. Your eyes flutter closed at the contact, and the moment would almost be sweet if he didn’t know it was a ruse influenced by the drugs starting to take effect.

“Maybe I’m getting sick or something; this doesn’t feel right,” you mumble, looking up blearily at him. He gives you a look of mock sympathy, deciding to let you in on the scheme.

“What’s wrong?” he asks innocently. “Should I call someone for you? Maybe… Jacob?”

You tense up, your eyes wide as they try to focus on his face.

“W-What?” you ask groggily, and he gives you a mocking smile. He stretches his arms up and lays them along the back of the booth, his jacket opening just enough that you notice his gun at his hip, even in your loopy state.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he tells you, bending to speak quietly in your ear. To anyone that looked, you both appeared just like a couple out for a romantic evening. “Those drugs I had put in your glass are going to start to kick in. You’re going to come to my car with me, nice and easy, and no one gets hurt. And then we’re going to go have a talk.”

He kisses you softly, right below the ear, throws some cash down to cover the champagne – Louie had never put your food order through – and half drags, half carries you up out of the booth, reassuring everyone that you were just feeling under the weather, and sweeps you up into his arms. He’s pretty sure he hears a couple of women coo at the sweet picture the two of you make.

Perfect.

Carrying you out of Brigoli’s, he walks with you to his car, settling you in the passenger seat.

“Sleep, sweetheart,” he coos patronizingly, and you can’t even glare at him, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as the drugs really start to kick in. “You’re going to have a lot to answer for when that wears off.”

He buckles your seatbelt for you, almost tenderly, before closing your door and walking around the car to take his seat behind the wheel. As he drives you both to Harbour Manor (emptied of witnesses for the next day or so at his instruction), he looks over at you, his heart clenching with adoration for you even as his hands grip the steering wheel so hard he worries he’ll break it.

You wouldn’t be getting away from him. Not like last time. Not like Nat. You’d take the beating both of you deserved for trying to leave him, for lying to him.

And then he’d make sure you never fucked with him again.

[As you can see, I am in need of decent quality screenshots of this movie, if anyone has access to a better version than the one on YouTube and wants to help me out!]

Chapter 2 | Epilogue

[terrence-silver]

A story about yandere!Gus Travis please? 🥺

(Gus Travis x Reader)

---

His hand drags you forward, refusing to let go.

Rushing towards the lone beach church at the end of the mountainous hiking trail of Cape Flattery, tucked in between the bosom of the black jagged rocks overgrown with moss and the rough, sandy plateau of the foggy coastline as pale as a bone in the shadow of the tall, blackened Spruce trees, car parked behind him near the rocky terrain waterfront, gloomy and overcast before the afternoon rain, his men, in a pair of two, silently following suit, serving as witnesses. Nice, isolated, no people present to intervene, Gus thought, with determined steps stepping into the sand --- and as a result, a perfect place to conduct a quick marriage. He reassures himself, his fingers touching the hilt of his gun tucked into his belt beneath his jacket, deciding he can simply flash it to the priest in case of any inhibitions to the contrary, or even go as far as pull it out and make a valid argument with it if push came to shove, his other hand latched unto yours, ushering you where you two needed to be. He acquired you a dress. Had you wear it. Went as he was. Leather, jeans and a dress shirt, right off of the docks right before he headed back to finish up back there. Wrap up all loose ends. He had no time to play dress up. He needed this done and he needed to be practical on his part. He needed this to be binding. Today. Doubly so. Having just driven out here from the registry office up at Port Angeles.

Deciding that it was now or never.

So, it was infinitely better if it was now.

Gus pulls you to him, shoulder to shoulder, sliding off his jacket in a hurry and wrapping it around your shoulders tightly, keeping you warm from the oncoming wind gusts blowing in sharp from the open, wavy sea front, utilizing his body to shield you from it. Keep you pretty. Although, you always were, regardless of the circumstances. His very own mermaid on dryland. -"I know it's bad now, but I'll get a leave and a honeymoon and we'll go. We'll go whenever you want. Maybe get a boat. Just for you and me. Sail somewhere warm."- He speaks, close enough to touch your face with his as he bent his head down to catch your expression better. He was certain his boss would give him a week or two worth of break. Gus's grip on his gun instinctively tightens. You shoot him a concerned, puzzled look. -"But, how can you get a leave when you..."- You start and he immediately interrupts you before you can even finish saying what he was thinking you'd say. Yes. He already knew. He knew and he didn't wanna hear any more of that crap. He wasn't a doctor, an accountant, a baker, a mechanic or a lawyer. He robbed banks, smuggled, stole and killed for a living, yes, if the occasion required it. There were no holidays and breaks from shit like that. There were only stalemates. But, he'd ensure some of the spoils of all his efforts over the years would pay off and that he'd get the due diligence rewards he deserved in leaving with you for a while. That was the least of what he was owed. His thoughts take the shape of the firearm his fingers were caressing for a moment and Gus figured that if he doesn't get it though, at this point, he was just as willing to go solo. Shoot his way out of this mess, with you in tow or die trying.

If Bonnie and Clyde could do it ---

He turns to his men, with a glance tossed over the shoulders.

-"Keep the engine running. Wanna be out of here quick."-

Gus orders and one of the burly, sullen looking guys wordlessly nods and turns back, sauntering towards the solitary vehicle, while the other one took the hint, and stood discreetly aside, hands tucked into his pockets, head averted. Good call. The rush wasn't quite that big, but he wanted a second of solitude with you, to drill something into you. Gus grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him, looking at you directly. Trying to make you understand. -"Hey. I can. I'll find a way. I always do. Doesn't matter. So long as we're together. Always together."- He reassures, vehemently. Hands travelling from your shoulders to your cheeks, warming their cold, windswept surface with his warm palms, protecting you from the ire of the ocean. -"You were given to me, remember? The best work bonus I ever got in my whole life and I'll take care of you forever, okay?"- He presses his forehand against yours, holding himself there, closing his eyes and trying to remember when you were first brought in to the compound. One of many girls his boss wanted to put to work. On the street. In bars. In clubs around Washington State. In private joints. Hauling them off to private collectors. Caught anywhere and everywhere. Abroad. Domestically. Smuggled across the border with Canada. Promised jobs. Opportunities. Thing was, a man could only rob a bank once. A person? He could sell multiple times. Countless times, in fact. It was lucrative business. But, Gus? He picked you. He knew he wanted you the minute you were brought in. He wanted you untouched. Unharmed. Unspoiled. All for him. And now, he'd have you. He opens his eyes. Meets yours.

-"And those days? They're long gone. They're never coming back."- He coos, pressing his nose against your neck, inhaling the scent there. If anyone ever touched, tried to use, did as much looking at you wrong again, he'd dump them off of the nearest port in so many bits not even the fish would find them as viable chow.

Gus swore that much.

-"But you sort of owe me something for that. I paid a hundred grand in cash for the privilege of that even though you would've made some pimp out there ten times that much. What I gave for you is more than these bozos make in years."-

He reminds, not unkindly --- never unkindly if he could help it, pointing his nose towards his men for emphasis, but it needed to be brought to your attention that he bought you off of the hands of his syndicate with more money than most people have ever held in their hands all their lives, saving you from a life of sucking cock for a buck and showing your ass on some pole somewhere to dope shooters, petty dealers and the occasional street thug. You quite literally belonged to him. And much like all treasures, you were expensive as heck, but it was worth it. You were worth it. The coastal church was looming just ahead, against the cloudy vista. All that was necessary was to walk through it now. You already had matching bands on your fingers and it was all legal. This was really just a formality. A romantic formality. He couldn't help the appeal of it. A wedding elopement with the one he loved. Now, if he only had a boat baptized with your initials so he could make this day perfect. Sail somewhere up North. Never to be found again. -"I've nothing to repay you with and you know that, Augustus. I don't have a single thing."- You shake your head, using his full name, seeming somewhat defeatist, and no, that wouldn't do either, because you did in fact, have something. The name of the something or someone was inscribed in ink above your heart. A tattoo, matched to his. He grabs the hem of his collar and shows you your own name marked in black on his skin, peeking out from under his shirt and his braided chain necklace, beneath his collar bone, so you'd never forget you and him were one. Even if marriage certificates could burn, wedding bands could be lost or sold, branded flesh was a constant.

Even after death. Even if you fought this, ran, acted willful, lied and schemed, butt heads with him and made it impossible for him to be as good as he wanted to be and if he was forced to do something as unthinkable as tie your legs with bricks and submerge you into the sea, you'd still die with his name on you, and if he jumped after you to join you, he'd die the same way.

That was true matrimony.

-"But, you do. You do!"- He protests, pointing at the inked letters.

-"You've got me now!"- Gus presses your hand against his torso, squeezing it there with his own grip. -"What you owe me is in there."- He looks towards the church and then back at you, hearing the distant buzzing of the ignited car engine stir the wind and the slamming of the door as his getaway chauffeur sauntered back, waiting at ease, adjusting the neckline of his jacket and lifting it up once the first, mist peppered dash of rain broke through the air. It was time, yeah. Gus collects the hem of your wedding dress, carrying it for you, not caring if your own attire wasn't exactly the most practical compared to his, feeling you needed and deserved to look the part of the princess today of all days, grabbing your hand and leading you up the slope, towards the rocky chapel courtyard and its iron cast front gate. His hand finds yours once again, fingers entwined, embracing you to shield you from getting wet. On instinct, his hand is on his gun once again. -"That and letting me lead you because I'm not leading you anywhere bad again. I love you."- Gus guarantees, giving you a kiss, tasting the salt of the wind and the sea on your mouth before he sought to refresh your memory and saying;

-"We love each other."-

[karatekels]

In Deep Water - Epilogue

And so, we wrap up this fucked up tale, with a time-skip of indeterminate length and some flashbacks to make up for it. I hope you all enjoyed this extremely dark tale!

TW: bondage, domestic violence/abuse, threats, violence (hair-pulling, references to injuries), sexual assault, rape/dubcon that is more than dubious (oral, vaginal), graphic non-consensual smut

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

---

Epilogue: Long Haul

You wake up feeling queasy, and very different from how you’ve felt upon waking everyday since your life had been turned upside down, taken out of your control, destroyed.

Your time as Gus’s possession was nothing but a series of disjointed, fuzzy memories that you aren’t sure how to string together. You’ve gotten used to waking up in pain, chained to the bed for ‘your safety’, sometimes with him looming over you or in bed beside you. He had been somewhat generous in the beginning as you recovered from the worst of your injuries, but once he had deemed you sufficiently healed… if you woke him up or otherwise grabbed his attention he would make you sore all over again as he took what he wanted from you. And you gave it to him. After that first night, you had long since stopped trying to resist.

You aren’t even sure if the spaces between these hazy, foggy memories were from healing sleep, drugs, or your simply mind trying to protect itself…

***

You wake suddenly from a nightmare – or was it a memory? – your body jolting upright only to be stopped by medical restraints pinning you to the mattress. Gus looks down at you, his expression intense as he comes to sit at the edge of the bed beside you. He reaches over, gently brushing the side of your face with the back of his hand, and you flinch slightly. He presses his lips together into a thin line at the gesture of rejection, sighing deeply.

“I’m so glad you’re awake, honey,” he breathes, leaning down to lay a kiss on your forehead, and this time you have the presence of mind to keep still. You don’t want to anger him, not tied down and aching as you are.

“Where am I? What is this?!” you demand in your panic, your eyes darting around even as you tug at your restraints. Gus’s large hand closes around your wrist, squeezing it gently, but you detect the warning underneath the gesture and force yourself to relax.

“You’re in our room, you’re getting better,” he explains patiently. You manage to suppress a shudder at his use of the word ‘our’.

“One day at a time, right princess?” he asks, giving you a boyish grin. You give him a faint nod before feigning drowsiness, hoping to extend your reprieve from his attentions.

***

“GUS! Don’t, please!” you scream at him as he rolls you onto your stomach, climbing on top of you and holding you down.

“Come on baby, just relax; ol’ Gus’ll do all the work,” he growls, the sound a mixture of arousal and anger as you continue to resist him. His hand fists in your hair, pulling your head back until you stop struggling.

“I’ve been patient, I’ve been gentle, I’ve let you get all better for me,” he hisses in your ear, biting your shoulder right on top of a still-healing bruise hard enough to make you whimper. “Don’t fight me, honey – it’ll only make me fight back.”

Your body goes limp and when he releases your hair, you collapse bonelessly onto the mattress. He was right; he’d have you either way.

***

“Gus!” you gasp, hating the sound of your voice moaning out his name. You’d promised yourself this would never happen.

Gus lays between your legs, his floppy brown curls concealing his face from view, but you feel his soft lips and tongue laving your inner thighs with lush kisses that make your head spin. You desperately want to run your fingers through his hair and keep him right where you want him, but your arms are tied to the bedposts as a precaution; you are still prone to the odd moment of resistance. Instead, you drop your knees further, spreading yourself wider for him, and buck your hips forward to try to grind your center against his face. You feel him smirk against you, and he lifts his head enough to make eye contact with you.

“What’d I tell ya, Y/N?” he asks with a dark chuckle. “Told ya it’d be magic!”

***

“Guuuus,” you whine his name as he pulls you out of your slumber, his body on top of yours as he kisses your neck. “’M tired…”

“I know, honey, but I’ll be quick,” Gus replies, pulling his cock out from his boxers and lining himself up with your entrance. Instead of immediately thrusting into you, his hand moves to tease your clit, helping your body prepare to take him.

“Don’t wanna,” you grumble with a pout, but soon your hips are grinding in slow circles, your legs lazily wrapped around him and your free arm thrown over his shoulder, toying with the curls at the back of his neck as you open yourself up to him.

“It’s a lot harder for you to get away with that lie now that I’ve had you coming all over my cock, sweetheart,” he points out smugly. You stick your tongue out at him, and he chases after it into your mouth, kissing you deeply as he enters you, fucking you slow and deep in your hazy state.

***

You feel nauseated as you reflect on the memories, especially the ones where you had given in and been a willing and active participant in the sex. Your compliance had started out as a way to just make it through the abuse – you didn’t want to give him a reason to add to your list of injuries, and when you played along he could be gentle, almost sweet.

 But the first time he had drawn a true, genuine orgasm out of you, you had lost it a little bit, screaming and crying and tearing apart anything and everything you could reach.

Eventually, it had been Gus that had gotten through to you, and not with force. Sure, he had restrained you at the beginning, but that was just to keep you from hurting yourself…

***

“No! NO! Get off of me!” you scream as Gus wraps his warm body around yours. He’d only had time to put on his boxers before you had started this… whatever it was. Tantrum? Episode? Full-on shattering of your mind?

Regardless, the feeling of his bare skin against yours begins an inner battle within you as your body immediately starts to relax, which sets you off into feeling agitated, disgusted, furious, a vicious cycle that repeats itself again and again as you fight to escape his grip.

Gus says nothing, locking his legs with his feet under his knees, pinning yours to the bed beneath you, his arms holding yours to your sides in a tight hug. He takes your thrashing and the odd elbow to his ribs in complete silence, neither threatening you or moving to soothe, merely trying to ride you out. Eventually, you tire yourself out, your body heaving as you try to catch your breath through your sobs.

“Better?” he asks softly after you regain your composure somewhat.

“No,” you spit out the lie, and you can tell by the way he exhales through his nose that he’s not buying it. You stop yourself from shivering as you recognize how well you two are able to read each other after everything that’s happened.

“Why be upset at feeling good?” he pushes gently, brushing your hair over one shoulder.

“Because you r-” you manage to catch yourself before voicing the most egregious of the crimes he had committed against you; you know that saying that word will set him off. A lot of things do. “Because you hurt me,” you amend, biting your tongue.

“I know, honey, but you know I had to, to make you see how things are. And now you have! And now the last thing I want to do is hurt you,” he coos, running his large hands up and down your body in a way that you find disturbingly comforting. The more time you spend with him, the more you start to understand him and recognize that he does mean what he says, even if only in his own twisted way. He doesn’t love you, but he genuinely believes otherwise.

“We’ve come so far, honey. I love you, and we’re gonna make it through this. We can make it through anything, as long as we’re together. Right? As long as we’re together!”

He’s laying desperate, almost frantic kisses up and down your neck and shoulder, and you feel him getting hard again despite the passionate sex you’d just had. You’d both felt the difference and you both knew what it meant: that you had given into him, despite your best efforts to resist. This was easier, this was safe; or at least, this was survivable.

“Gonna treat you like a princess,” he mumbles against your skin, one large hand moving to your breast, teasing your nipple into hardening beneath his fingertips. “Gonna give you everything… you deserve everything… my girl…”

“Yours…” you moan in defeat, turning in his arms to kiss him.

***

So where does that leave you now? you think to yourself as you come back to the present. You don’t love Gus - you can’t stand him - and you suspect that even he isn’t deluded enough to deny that reality. You’re both walking a strange line, aware that your acceptance of the situation is forced and that his is tainted by an obsession he considers love. Your sex could hardly be considered consensual, but you are an active participant and you do, more often than not these days, derive pleasure from the act. You either wake up in Gus’s arms or with at least one of your limbs tied to the bed if he couldn’t stay there with you, and you aren’t sure which is worse. 

It’s like you’re being made to walk the plank – sure, you’re in control of moving your feet forward, but only because danger and pain surround you at all sides if you don’t walk of your own accord. Could you live like this? Do you even have a choice? Gus’s warped version of love leads you to believe he’d beat you into submission rather than letting you go, even into the sweet embrace of death. 

No, you are likely stuck with Gus until he either tires of you or some miracle presents itself.

As you come to that conclusion, the room sways unnaturally, and you force yourself to poke your head out from under the blankets, seeing a bright, clear light reaching you through your eyelids, feeling movement; a breeze. Something isn’t right.

You open your eyes, seeing an unfamiliar room and a skyline in motion through a small, round window – you’re at sea. For the first time since Gus had taken you, you are alone and not tied down.

You move over to the window, taking the blanket with you to keep out the chill. You don’t see land, anything, anyone, just the dark blue of the ocean and the vibrant blue of the sky. Upon inspecting the room you find a couple sets of clothes in your size and get dressed, grateful for Gus’s consideration – he’d never allowed you to wear clothes at Harbour Manor. Why would he bother, when you never left the bedroom?

You step out of the cabin, quietly making your way around the boat, seeing nothing on the horizon no matter which way you turn. Eventually, you see Gus standing at the bow, looking out over the water.

Your hair whips around your head in the breeze and you shiver, though the fresh air is not unwelcome. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been outside.

“Where are we?” you ask, your voice raspy and sore from your time with Gus and the salty air, but your words manage to carry across to him on the wind.

He doesn’t give you an immediate answer, merely turning to look at you with an unfathomable expression.

“Nowhere, yet,” he finally offers with a casual shrug, slowly walking up to you. Your feet don’t move away from him, and you absently note the small smile he gives you. He’s trained you well in the time he’s had you; how long it’s been, you have no idea.

“We’ll get where we’re going once you’re ready.”

You don’t need to ask him what you need to be ready for; it’s obvious to you as you look around you once again, recognizing that you are trapped, completely at his mercy, with nowhere to run or hide. You would stay at sea until Gus was convinced that you were ready to buy into everything, fully, completely, permanently. Until he can trust you again.

As if to prove your point, he grabs you suddenly, gripping your chin tightly.

“We’re gonna get through this together, honey. I’m never letting you go.”

You have no doubt he’ll have you complicit before you make port.

---

What a... happy... ending...

Thanks for reading, everyone! I'll (likely) be taking a break until the beginning of December so that I can start to prepare for TIGmas (still one free spot, btw!) - we'll probably be starting with something sweet and fluffy and, y'know, the opposite of this fic. Talk to y'all soon!

[karatekels]

Please write that breaking in story for Gus 🖤

Alright, this person (thank you for replying, btw!) has voted for Gus about which TIG character I should write for the following post-I'm-turning-into-a-prompt:

mr----m-deactivated20231103

Right now I am thinking about breaking into your house at midnight while you are asleep, putting my left hand on your mouth, and sliding my other hand inside your pj to violate, torture, and torment your cunt until you are turned into a dripping mess whore and then dragging your head on edge of bed and use that loud whimpering and whining mouth until your mind and body breaks and then breed your other two holes while you are body exhausted, blank, helpless in whatever position I desired.

I'm curious about who will win out, so let me know your thoughts!

[karatekels]

Dark Desires October Masterlist

Once I finish Fresh Start, my next post will be on October 1st, and I'll be aiming to post 1 part of a fic EVERY DAY in October! Some of these are based on your requests; here's what you're in for! These aren't in any official order yet (with the exception of the last one, I think!), so if there's one you really want to see let me know! While I've currently planned for these fics to fill all 31 days of the month, if you have a creepy, dark idea feel free to submit a request! (If I don't get to it in October, I will eventually!) TW: Most of these are quite dark (because, y'know... Halloween), and some involve non-con, dub-con, or consensual non-consent. Specific warnings will of course be added to the fics as I update them.

"Unjust Reward" (request from @terrysilv): Complete! Part 1 here! A dark non-con with KK3 Terry. Daniel warns Reader that Terry is nothing but trouble, and she tries to avoid him, but when she's being chased by a group of men she turns to Terry's dojo for help. He swoops in to save the day, but expects something in return...

"Disorderly Conduct": Complete! Part 1 here! A dark Reader x Cash fic. Reader is a cop who has been working at the same precinct as Cash for awhile, and gets the vibe that something is... off. Trusting her instinct, she follows him to an abandoned building one day and catches him in the act. Unfortunately, he also catches her, and keeps her as a hostage while he tries to figure out his next move. (Takes place before events of the movie) "Heirloom" (request from @hopes-handicrafts): Complete! Part 1 here! An enemies to lovers fic with Jan Valek. Reader is Jack Crow's daughter and a vamp-hunter-in-training. When Valek attacks the old Catholic school where the Black Cross of Berziers is kept and discovers Crow's daughter is a student, he kidnaps her and takes her with him, hoping that Jack will take the bait...

"Scream for Me": In Progress! Part 1 here! [Finished for DDO; Happy-go-lucky follow up to come... maybe] Part of the "Fresh Start" universe! A dark CK Terry x Reader fic. Reader makes the mistake of telling Terry that she can't believe he was ever scary, and certainly isn't that way anymore. Terry decides to teach her a lesson, hunting her in their own home until she admits that he is still very much something to fear...

"All's Fair" (request from @terrysilv): In Progress! Part 1 here! A dark KK3 Terry. Reader has been dating Terry for awhile, and he's been patient. When she surprises him with a date at their local funfair, he thinks she'll be willing to finally make their relationship physical. At the top of the ferris wheel, he makes his move...

"In Deep Water" (anonymous request): In Progress! Part 1 here! A dark non-con with Gus Travis. Reader is an undercover cop who has gotten in with Gus's gang to get the dirt on him and Malcolm. Gus gets wind of your deception and decides to punish you - for lying, for making him fall for you, for everything. "Clear as Mud": A dark non-con with KK3 Terry. Reader pushes Terry too far asking him about his time in the Vietnam War. He does his best to describe the fear of being stalked through the jungle, but doesn't feel like he's doing it justice, and decides to help her experience it for herself... "Solar Flare": The OC x Valek romance fic I've been babbling about for awhile! Rose is forcibly turned into a weapon by the Catholic Church to help them hunt down vampires, but their ritual goes wrong. Inexplicably drawn to Valek, Rose slowly falls for the world's first vampire as they struggle to stay alive and search for a cure together. "[Currently Untitled CK Terry is a Stalker]": CK Terry x Reader fic. Terry can't help himself; what started as innocent snooping around Cobra Kai's biggest obstacle for dominance of the Valley (Reader) has escalated into full on stalking. He can't keep himself from watching your every move, stealing into your home in the dead of night... wanting. But how far will he take things? "A Tale of Two Terrys: Masquerade": In this much anticipated sequel (well, I've been looking forward to writing more, anyway), CK Terry plans a masquerade at his and Reader's manor for Halloween. He's planned for a special guest to join them, but how long will it take reader to recognize them? And what do they plan on doing with her once she does?

[terrence-silver]

Do you have any headcanons on Gus Travis? I've just watched Black Point and I think I'm in love 💖

Him?

― Gus Travis has a major problem with jealousy. Why? Because outside of having a natural propensity for doubt (maybe due to the nature of his job, being a career criminal where you have to watch your back, against everyone, at all times) his wife betrayed him in the past and ran off with another man covertly acting as an informant and Gus' boss' money. Almost sounds like the typical entanglement in the life of someone on the wrong side of law enforcement hiding out in a small port town on the borders of Alaska and Washington state, but the event left Gus reeling, even less trusting and somehow, even more territorial and fidgety when it comes to love as a mere concept. In short notes, Gus Travis is as jaded as can be.

― Which means, despite seeming like the type who has had his share of easy sex, easy cash, easy profit, murky jobs, shady deals, Gus doesn't fall in love easily. Not before the event and certainly not after. He's a rough man, with a rough exterior, rough manners, a rough job and initially, he doesn't seem like the type to care for such things at all, but the opposite is very much true because internally, he's someone who tends to fall and fall hard which has left him messed up in the past. In his words, I treated her like a princess and gave her the world and this is how she repays me? He doesn't want that happening again and so, when he meets you, his first instinct is to be standoffish and stay away from you. Better yet, warn you to say away from him.

― Might have the typical gangbanger 'Do you know who I am?' or 'Do you know who you're dealing with?' vibe about him purely to push you away, even though he's quite as likely to contradict himself and be the one pursuing you. Gus overflows with clashing emotions where he isn't certain if he'd rather scare you away or lay his claim on you and make you his. Maybe just visit some nearby, shady portside pub and get himself someone who looks just like you; a whore, a hooker, a one night stand, anything, and get you out of his system through fucking someone else, not that that helps one bit at all and everyone either looks too much like you or not at all and he always comes back to craving the real deal, and he hasn't...well, he hasn't even laid a finger on you yet.

― Thing is, as I said above, Gus loves deeply. A surprising amount for someone who could only be labeled a bad boy and something of a thug in the most classical sense. The type of love that has him tattooing your name somewhere on his body --- maybe next to his heart, perhaps way before you even know it...or him --- wearing maching clothes, wearing matching rings and bracelets and necklaces. Where he dreams of buying a boat one day, sailing out with a bunch of cash, and naming it after you, as his muse, his lucky north, his compass. Where he sees you as his near overromanticized mythical being. His mermaid. His selkie. His siren. Interesting how someone otherwise so bitter and disappointed with love also has the amazing capacity of being borderline poetically idealistic.

― Of course, the nature of his career criminal leanings and rough and tough sailor and streetwise lifestyle might not exactly allow for him to express his idealistic side outright because there's a reputation to maintain and part of him doesn't want to. And yet, he still desperately does to the point his cravings are making him volatile. He fears being a fool in love again. He fears his men viewing him as a fool in love too. So, he might come off a bit hostile and passive aggressive; like someone who has a general distaste for you, which is far from true, his behaviour ranging anywhere from acosting you in public or god forbid, anyone you might be out on a date with, because he's fatally jealous. Gus can't handle himself or the gravitas of his feelings around you and he protects himself through what he feels is nessecary. Through being a bit of a bastard.

― It doesn't remain unnoticed though; just how much attention Gus Travis is giving you, even if this attention is masked through the guise of negative social interactions. It all becomes suspicious, though. The sheer quantity and volume of it. Him stalking you, catcalling you from his car, threatening to goddamn near shoot anyone else who dares, honking his horn at you, bullying you one minute and then flirting the next, harassing your friends and suitors out in bars or restaurants, having them scared away from you or outright beat up so they'd be afraid to stay in touch with you, being pushy, intrusive, threatening and petulant, having his men follow you around covertly and report back to him on your daily whereabouts, offering to lend you money so you'd be indebted to him, breaking into your place, kidnapping attempts. You name it!

― Ultimately, you will be his, and his grip on you will be tighter than any relationship he ever had before because he dreads losing you like he's lost meanigful people in the past and it has his possessive tendencies flaring up dramatically; he will correct the mistakes he made before you came along, he swears it. Realistically, he is difficult. Very difficult. He is difficult because he overcompensates. Overcalculates. Over-worries. He questions every interaction, every glance, ever action, imaginary or real, towards someone else from you or from you to someone else because the dread of you being whisked away from under him is acute, and so, most people never even discover Gus Travis even has anyone serious as you're his most fiercely guarded treasure. Hell, not even most of his men and crooks know. And if nobody knows you exist and you're merely abducted one day --- missing posters riddling your home town, only for you never to be found again, then nobody can coax you away from him in the future.

[karatekels]

Just going to pop this back up on your feeds - if my vertigo can go away for a little bit, something new should appear here by the end of the day... 👀

KarateKels Story Masterlist

Hi everyone! I’ve decided to (finally) get my act together and make a masterlist post for all the requests/stories I’ve done so far. I’m going first by character, then adding Dark Desires October and TIGmas posts for if you’re looking for a ~vibe~. Links that have a * indicate the presence of smut, for if you just want to get to the good stuff! 😉

(I'll be going through these posts and updating them slowly when I can't bring myself to write, so if you see anything that needs fixing or you want to suggest ways to make this... less of a clusterfuck, please feel free to let me know!)

---

Terry Silver:

Silver Seduction: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3* | Part 4* | Part 5* | Part 6*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader is the older sister of Jessica Andrews and has taken it upon herself to make sure young Daniel LaRusso stays safe after Jessica returns to Ohio. This includes accompanying him to seek out the training offered by Sensei Terry Silver and learning a few moves yourself from the handsome older man. When his true intentions are discovered, you completely cut him off, but he isn’t willing to let you go so easily. (Reader is in her 20s)

Chef’s Kiss: Part 1 | Part 2*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader is dragged to a charity event by her parents where she meets Terry Silver. They discover that they have a mutual acquaintance, Daniel LaRusso, and Reader joins Danny at the dojo as she grows closer to Terry. Wanting to surprise him one day, she catches Terry relishing Daniel’s torture – now Terry has to make her see reason. (Reader is in her 20s)

Deluge: Part 1

(KK3 Terry x Reader) You get stranded in the rain trying to make your way to Terry’s place for Valentine’s Day, but Terry comes to your rescue, professing his love for you and taking you to his home where you belong.

An Honest Man: Part 1 | Part 2* | To be continued…

(KK3 Terry x Reader) You meet Terry at a party and aren’t impressed by his smarmy exterior, making him determined to win you over. Colluding with your easily wooed coworker, he talks you into a date and slowly seduces his way past your timid, untrusting nature.

Payment Plan: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader sees Terry training in the Cobra Kai dojo while on her way to work and develops a crush on him. They finally meet face-to-face and Terry invites her inside for a free lesson.

Bath Toy: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Terry takes a business call while playing with you in the bath but is interrupted by you not being able to keep quiet. To make up for the inconvenience, you let him use you underwater while he goes about his business.

Cat & Mouse: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader is a rising star at Dynatox and has caught the eye of the boss himself. Despite being the Terry Silver, however, you adamantly reject his advances, forcing him to take more drastic measures to help you see reason. The two of you engage in a game of cat and mouse that culminates the night of a gala celebrating Dynatox’s successes.

Discipline Training: Part 1* | Part 2* | To be continued…

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Terry comes home early from a work trip and catches you touching yourself without his permission. He decides to punish train you in the third 'D': Discipline.

All's Fair: Part 1 | Part 2* | Part 3*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Reader has been dating Terry for awhile, and he's been patient. When she surprises him with a date at their local funfair, he thinks she'll be willing to finally make their relationship physical. At the top of the ferris wheel, he makes his move. Dubcon.

Unjust Reward:Part 1 | Part 2*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) Daniel warns Reader that Terry is nothing but trouble, and she tries to avoid him, but when she's being chased by a group of men she turns to Terry's dojo for help. He swoops in to save the day, but it turns out he was just saving her for himself. Non-con.

Clear as Mud: Part 1*

(KK3 Terry x Reader) You’ve tried to get Terry to open up about his time in Vietnam on more than one occasion, and while he’s been doing his best to help you understand, he ultimately decides that the best way to help you is to put you through something similar, hunting you in the middle of a forest at sunset.

Turtle Doves: Part 1 | Part 2

(KK3 Cobra Husbands - Terry/Reader/John) It’s your first Christmas spent with both Terry and John, and everyone is nervous about what to give the others. While you’re confident in Terry’s (often overwhelming) love for both you and John, as well as your own feelings for both men, you’re still unsure of John’s feelings for you with the spirit of Betsy still a looming presence in everyone’s mind.

Songbird: Part 1*

(Terry through the ages) A series of snippets of Terry and his wife in the 90s, 00s and the present. Reader is a singer at the bar that Terry frequents as he hits rock bottom, and the two of you fall in love. Years later, the return of John Kreese into your husband’s live threatens to tear your marriage apart.

Lesson Learned: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3*

(CK Terry x Reader) Reader is a student in Cobra Kai’s adult class and you and Sensei Silver are both clearly attracted to one another. After a month of teasing, Terry decides you’ve both waited long enough.

Strike First: Part 1 | Part 2*

(CK Terry x Reader) Reader and Sensei Silver have been eyeing each other during the dojo’s adult class for awhile now. While you never think it would escalate past flirting, Terry has had other plans, luring you to the dojo when no one is around so you two can get to know each other.

Prized Possession: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) You accompany Terry to a charity event for the first time as a couple and he doesn’t appreciate the attention you receive from the other men in attendance. Upon returning home, he needs to make sure that you both know who you belong to.

As I Am: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) You witness Terry and Daniel’s fight in Stingray’s apartment and desperately want him to lose control with you. Upon making you confess your desires, he gives you exactly what you need. Size kink.

A Better Offer: Part 1 | Part 2*

(CK Terry x Reader) You are Daniel’s assistant at the dealership and a close family friend. When Terry drops by to gather information for his schemes, he decides to scoop you up and make Danny-Boy regret his mistreatment of you, giving you a dream opportunity: organizing the charity auction for Eva Garcia. The two of you develop feelings for one another as you work closely together, and as the events of the auction unfold, the tension between you reaches its boiling point.

Legacy: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) Terry has fallen for the most promising student in his adult class, though she remains oblivious. Though he desperately wants to have her for himself, he fears rejection and settles for privately training her just to be close to her and build a legacy. Eventually, he runs out of things to teach her.

Fresh Start: Days 4 & 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Days 8 & 9* | Days 10 & 11 | Day 12-A | Day 12-B | Day 13-A* | Day 13-B* | Day 13-C | Day 14-A* | Day 14-B | Day 14-C

(CK Terry x Reader) Reader is visiting LA for a few weeks and accidentally wanders onto the estate of Terry Silver, who immediately falls hard for the young woman. With only a few days to convince her to stay with him, he knows he has to pull out all the stops.

Scream for Me: Part 1 | Part 2*

(CK Terry x Reader) Part of the "Fresh Start" universe! Reader makes the mistake of telling Terry that she can't believe he was ever scary, and certainly isn't that way now. Terry decides to teach her a lesson, hunting her in their own home until she admits that he is still very much something to be feared.

Wrapped in Red: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) Part of the “Fresh Start” universe! You and Terry are invited to a Christmas Eve charity gala by your rival for Terry’s affections, and you’re sick of having to endure her flirting with your man. Surprisingly, Victor has an idea that will make it certain who Terry Silver belongs to.

Eye of the Storm: Part 1* | To be continued…

(CK Terry x Reader) Trapped at the airport on Christmas Eve, Terry grows tired of seeing everyone around him with their families and loved ones, and impulsively decides to start a family of his own. Today. He sets his sights on you to get the job done, with you being none the wiser.

Guided Meditation: Part 1*

(CK Terry x Reader) Terry is fed up with your attitude lately, and decides to help you learn how to channel your pent up frustrations through more enjoyable pursuits... for him, anyway.

The Steadfast Tin Soldier: Part 1*

(Twig Terry x Reader) Terry returns from Vietnam on Christmas Eve, and you are the first and only person he wants to see. After years without so much as a letter, you two try to get to know each other once again.

Cash Ewing (Black Friday/The Kidnapping):

Disorderly Conduct: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4* | Part 5 | Part 6

A dark, tragic fic. Reader is a cop who has been working at the same precinct as Cash for awhile, and gets the vibe that something is... off. Trusting her instinct, she follows him to an abandoned building one day and catches him in the act. Unfortunately, he also catches her, and keeps her as a hostage while he tries to figure out his next move. (Takes place before events of the movie)

Person of Interest: Part 1*

You and a friend attend your precinct's Christmas party; the first time you'll be seeing your coworkers since you went undercover almost a year ago. Rather than the happy reunion with your partner and friend Cash, he seems anything but happy to see you. Locked in the basement together, you call Cash out on his BS and finally confront him about his feelings and your own.

Jan Valek (Vampires):

Heirloom: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6*

An enemies to lovers fic with Jan Valek. Reader is Jack Crow's daughter and a vamp-hunter-in-training. When Valek attacks the old Catholic school where the Black Cross of Berziers is kept and discovers his nemesis’s daughter, he kidnaps her in hopes of using her to lure him out but finds himself falling for her instead.

Saturnalia: Part 1*

Valek catches your scent on the wind and plans to feed on you, but after a single conversation with you can’t bring himself to commit such an act. Instead, he plans to find you at your friend's Winter Solstice Masquerade to be close to you, even just for the night.

Gus Travis (Black Point):

In Deep Water: Part 1 | Part 2* | Part 3*

A dark non-con with Gus Travis. Reader is an undercover cop who has gotten in with Gus's gang to get the dirt on him and Malcolm’s crime ring. Gus gets wind of your deception and decides to punish you - for lying, for making him fall for you, for everything.

Terry McCain (Excessive Force):

Yule-Tied: Part 1* | To be continued…

You manage to get Terry to swear off work for a whole week to come with you to visit your family in New York City for the holidays. He has (unsurprisingly) charmed his way into everyone’s good books, so you decide to reward him with an early Christmas present when you get back to your hotel room the night before Christmas Eve.

Jack Blaylock (Ulterior Motives):

Coming soon…

The TIGverse (stories with more than one TIG character):

The NSFW Alphabet: Part 1* | Part 2*

A character study for both KK3 Terry and CK Terry. (I want to do more requests like these, so feel free to send in requests for my thoughts/opinions rather than full on stories if you want!)

A Tale of Two Terrys: Part 1* | To be continued…

(KK3 Terry x Reader x CK Terry) You and your husband (CK Terry) are somehow joined in bed by his younger self, who had been wondering how his future would turn out. Initially protective, your husband talks you into letting his younger self have his way with you before joining in himself.

Mediation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5* | Part 6* | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9* | To be continued…

(Terry McCain x Reader x Cash Ewing) You are assigned as Terry McCain’s new partner after his previous partner – Cash Ewing – goes to prison for the crimes he has committed. Cash returns to Chicago years later, after his release and rehabilitation, and while he can’t be a cop anymore, he wants to make amends to those he has disappointed with his actions, most of all his former close friend Terry. Terry isn’t receptive to Cash’s attempts at reconciliation, and warns you to stay away from him, having grown very protective of his “work wife.” But you find something of a kindred spirit in Cash and want to help him get a second chance at life, deciding to do what you can to support the man and bring the two friends back together.

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Themes/Challenges

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Dark Desires October 2023:

Unjust Reward Disorderly Conduct Heirloom Scream for Me All's Fair In Deep Water

TIGmas 2023:

Person of Interest Saturnalia Clear as Mud Eye of the Storm The Steadfast Tin Soldier Wrapped in Red Yule-Tied What You Do To Me Mediation Guided Meditation Turtle Doves (Cobra Husbands) It’s Cold Outside (Jack Blaylock) Coming Soon...

[karatekels]

Not me rereading my Gus fic to make sure I'm not repeating myself too much in the upcoming Jack fic... (if anyone has been wanting me to write about a particularly depraved act, feel free to pop into my DMs or send me an Ask!)

In Deep Water - Chapter 2

HOO BOY, this one's a doozy. Definitely the most fucked up, depraved thing I've ever written, so please don't read this if any of the trigger warnings are upsetting to you. Speaking of which...

TW: bondage, torture, threats, violence (hair-pulling, slapping, punching, kicking, biting, cutting), blood-drinking, sexual assault, rape (oral, anal, vaginal), graphic non-consensual smut

...What'd I tell you?

Part 1 here

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Chapter 2: Over a Barrel

Reader’s POV:

Somehow it’s the sound of the slap that jolts you awake before you notice the pain, but then you do feel it, a hot stinging ache that blooms across the side of your face. You shut your eyes tighter, your head swimming from the lingering drugs in your system and the force of the strike, and feel your body in a strange, unnatural position.

You feel the rough rope binding your wrists, and at the sound of a cranking noise, the ropes are pulled upwards, taking your arms with them until you’re standing on the balls of your feet. Forcing your eyes open, you look up at the squeaky pulleys and the intricate knotwork around your wrists. No surprise; Gus knew his sailors’ knots.

You try to take stock of your surroundings in the dark room, assuming that you’re in a garage or maybe a basement. There are no windows, and the ground is cold concrete that seems to permeate the air of the room, making you shiver. You’re still in your dress but your coat and shoes have been taken off, making you feel vulnerable.

The room is relatively barren, save for a nearby table covered with items. You take notice of a bucket of water, a large cooler, an assortment of knives, and something that looks suspiciously like a branding iron that has your heart racing… Before you can get a closer look, Gus steps between you and the table, taking up your entire field of vision. His rage is simmering under the surface, but you can tell that it’s very much present as he looks down at you. He’s taken off his leather jacket and shirt, leaving him in just his white vest and pants, and as you take in the size of his arms you recognize the intimidation tactic for what it is. Not that it was necessary – you didn’t need to see his muscles to know that he could pulverize you without even breaking a sweat.

“Y/N,” he says your name flatly, glaring down at you before walking around you in a slow, wide circle. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he repeats, tsking your name as if mightily disappointed. “What are we going to do with you?”

You don’t say anything – what could you even say? – and sense that he’s right behind you, close but not touching you, and the anticipation has you trembling as you stand on the tips of your toes, trying to give your arms the tiniest amount of slack. You know that Gus is about to start demanding answers, and you’re not sure what to tell him; you don’t know what he knows other than the name Jacob and that you were clearly not someone to be trusted. He could just be under the impression that you were seeing a man named Jacob, or he could know everything.

Suddenly your head is pulled back sharply, his fist tangled in your hair and his other hand reaching around you to grip your throat. You feel your pulse take off against his thumb and swallow thickly.

“I thought that we had something, that we were going somewhere. And we do, honey, and we are, even if you don’t see it yet,” Gus coos reassuringly, even as he tightens his grip on you.

“G-Gus–” you choke out, trying to reason with him, but he hisses in your ear for you to be quiet, releasing your hair to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back against him.

“Shut up,” he snarls. “You’ll speak when I tell you to.”

He shoves you forward suddenly, your body briefly swaying by your wrists as your feet try to find purchase on the floor. By the time you recover he’s standing in front of you again, looking you up and down in a way that has your hair standing on end.

“Now, you’re gonna answer all my questions, you’re gonna tell the fucking truth, and then we can start to move past this little bump in the road, got it?” You nod mutely and he gives you a pleased, toothy smile in return.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs, a large hand cupping your cheek fondly. You try not to wince at the pressure on your tender skin; you’re certain it’s already bruised. “Now, tell me: Who’s Jacob?”

“A friend, Gus, just an old friend.” You try to speak clearly and keep your eyes locked with his, trying to convey sincerity the best you can.

“Yeah? From where?”

“From school, years ago.” You try to keep as close to the truth as possible without revealing information, and ‘school’ was close enough to ‘academy’ to help you pass off the lie. “We worked together for a little while afterwards, but that’s all.”

“Really. And why were you meeting him yesterday? Giving him a thick-looking file?”

“It was just old notes from the office, Gus!” you lie, and you can immediately tell from his expression that he knows it. He backhands you hard enough to make you sway from the ceiling by your wrists, the ropes digging into your sensitive skin.

“What did I say about lying to me, honey?” he hisses, bending over to get in your face and pulling you closer by the hair when you flinch away.

“How is this–” he pauses to reach into his back pocket with his free hand, shoving the photograph in your face, “ –‘just old notes from the office,’ huh?!”

You freeze as you take in the photograph. It’s one of the photographs you’d taken of the stolen goods in Harbour Manor. The same photograph that the waiter had picked up by accident.

“Where did you get that picture?” you ask in a quiet, hoarse voice, already bracing yourself for the answer. He had gotten to Jacob somehow; he was the only person on earth with a copy of that photograph. Gus slaps you again, but you hardly feel it; you’re too distracted about the wellbeing of your friend.

“Remember who’s who in this interrogation, Officer. I’m the one asking the questions around here,” Gus warns, before giving you a cold, mocking smile. “But I’ll humour you, just this once. It was found in Jacob’s car, which was all smashed up on an empty stretch of highway.”

You shut your eyes tightly, a grimace contorting your features. Jacob was a good cop, but a better person. He had a family. He didn’t deserve to die like this, or die at all because of you.

“I guess he wasn’t paying close enough attention to his surroundings, or maybe he just lost control,” he continues, his voice brimming with vindictive pleasure. “It’s incredible how one slip-up, one wrong move can completely destroy someone…” he trails off.

“H-He h-has a wife! He h-has k-kids!” you wail in anguish, your heart breaking for the man and his family.

You’re too wrapped up in your grief to be sure how long Gus stands there in silence, watching you cry as you mourn the loss of your friend, but you can feel his eyes on you the entire time. Your body is wracked with sobs despite your unnatural position, tears pouring down your face and dripping down your chin.

“Oh, sweetheart. I didn’t know you were such a romantic,” Gus croons, pulling you into him and off your feet and holding you against his chest, his hands at your lower back and rubbing in slow circles. “But then, I guess I don’t know much about you at all, huh?”

You don’t reply; you’re not sure you could even if you wanted to. Gus doesn’t take well to your silence, slapping you, shaking you roughly by the shoulders, screaming at you, but you’re only distantly aware of it all, feeling strangely numb and disconnected from your body.

“Look at me, Nat! Fucking look at me!” he roars, and that name has you both freezing and making eye contact with one another for the first time since things had escalated. He stares at you, silently daring you to call him out on his blunder, but you don’t acknowledge it, even though you both know what he’d said. Him referring to you by his ex-wife’s name is a very, very bad sign for you.

“I don’t like hurting you, you know,” he says with a dejected sigh, loosening his bruising grip on your shoulders. “You were becoming the most important thing in my life. You believe me, right? Right!?” he demands, shaking you around like a limp ragdoll. “But I need to let you know that you can’t do this again, honey. No more cops, no more fighting, no more lying; that’s all over. You made me fall for you, Y/N, and I’m not letting you go.”

The passionate way he speaks reveals the depth of his obsession with you just as much as his words, and both positively terrify you, shifting your focus from Jacob to your own situation for the first time. Before you have a chance to speak, he’s bowed his head down to yours, capturing your lips in a ferocious, possessive kiss that you can’t shy away from.

So instead, you kick him between the legs as hard as you can, not thinking of your bound hands or anything else to do with your situation beyond getting him off of you.

He howls into your mouth before staggering backwards and curling into himself. You frantically look up at your hands to see if there’s any way to free yourself, but you know that it’s hopeless, and when you look back at Gus he’s glaring at you with dark eyes, and you know it’s going to be bad.

“I didn’t mean to, it was just a reflex! I–” your excuses are cut off as he punches you in the stomach, pushing the air from your lungs.

“You’re going to pay for that, you bitch.”

Your body instinctively tries to move into the fetal position to protect your stomach, but you can't, dangling from the ceiling as you are, and so you settle for catching your breath and trying not to be sick instead. Once you can breathe a bit more easily you look back to Gus to see him grabbing the large cooler off the table and bringing it over. Throwing the top open, he picks up a large block of ice, setting it down just in front of you without a word and walking off behind you.

The room is silent, save for your shaky breaths. You can’t seem to move your gaze from the ice in front of you, possibilities of what he’s going to do with it, do with you, racing through your mind.

Finally, you hear the clunking noise of a crank being turned and feel the tension of the ropes start to pull you upwards by the wrists, and you close your eyes to try and brace yourself for the incoming pain. Time moves agonizingly slowly as your arms are pulled up higher and higher, your shoulders twinging as gravity fights against your bondage until you’re worried your shoulders will dislocate.

You force your eyes open, looking through your tears for Gus to beg and scream for mercy, and your eyes fall on the ice block once more. You realize now what he’s doing.

Against your mind’s wishes, your body moves to relieve itself of the pressure it’s under, and you climb onto it, the stinging cold immediate on your aching, bare feet. Gus can clearly see you from where he’s working the crank, because it continues pulling your arms up until they’re raised above your head again. The crank is locked in place and Gus casually comes back into view, leaning against the table as he watches you shifting from foot to foot, trying to give the soles of your feet some relief. The pain is a burning cold, and wordless whines escape through your clenched jaw as you grit your teeth.

“G-Gus,” you moan his name, staring at him desperately. “Gus, p-please let me down!” you beg, forcing yourself to push through the pain. You truly have no idea how long you’ve been standing on this block of ice, but it feels like eternity, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

Gus appears unmoved, toying with one of the knives on the table as he drinks in your suffering, his eyes glittering.

“Please, Gus! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please make it stop!” you wail. “I don’t know what you want, but I’ll do it, I swear I will!” you promise, telling yourself you’ll cross that bridge when you came to it.

A slight smile plays at his lips, and he wanders behind you again, lowering the ropes enough to let you step off the ice and lower your arms to your sides with a few feet of slack; enough to move, but not to run. It hurts to stand, but at least you can – you’re surprised that you managed to convince Gus to show you even this shred of mercy. As he comes back to the table you follow his movements with your eyes, trying to get a read on him. Had he hit his limit for torture?

In one fluid motion, he picks up the bucket of water off of the table and pours it over your feet.

The pain is absolutely indescribable.

You immediately collapse to the floor, shrieking like a wounded animal and trying to keep your feet off the wet floor. The rest of your body is telling you that the water is tepid, cool even, but to the frozen and frayed nerves of your feet it feels scalding.

“You’ll do what I want?!” Gus snarls down at you as you writhe on the floor in agony, still screaming. “You promise?!” He kicks you in the ribs, turning you onto your back with the toe of his boot. “What I wanted was to be able to trust you, Y/N, but you had to go and fuck that up.”

There’s a momentary reprieve from his assault as he moves to the table, and then he reappears with a sharp knife in hand, squatting down beside you and levelling you with a crazed, heartbroken look.

“What I want now is to make you hurt the way you’ve hurt me, sweetheart. And that’s what I’m gonna do.”

He takes the knife in one hand and the hem of your dress in the other, pulling it taut as he starts to cut through the fabric. You try to shy away from him and the blade but he merely tightens his grip and presses down harder. You feel the knife cut through a few layers of skin from your bellybutton to the hollow of your throat, and as he peels your dress off you can see crimson droplets appearing in the wake of the blade.

You stop thrashing and let out a whimper that becomes a gasp as you feel his warm, wet tongue lick up the trail of blood. You shudder, repulsed by the action.

“You’re so pretty when you bleed for me, baby,” he groans against your skin, cutting away your undergarments and leaving you bare on the cold concrete floor.

“I’m gonna make sure every inch of you shows that you belong to me.”

You manage to mentally disconnect from your body – it’s nothing you’ve consciously done, just your brain’s way of protecting you from Gus’s assault. He seems intent on covering every inch of your skin in a mark; a scratch from his nails or his knife, bruises from his teeth and his fists. You distantly hear yourself screaming, feel the dull ache radiating off of every inch of you, but you’re mostly focused on the bare lightbulb above you, the image scorching itself into your retinas. It’s like he’s trying to destroy you, to mash you up with his hands as though you’re made of clay so he can remake you into the loyal girl he thought you were.

Then, suddenly, it stops.

When he kisses you, the touch is so gentle that it jolts you from the surprise; you didn’t think he was capable of such a gesture after all of this. Your body doesn’t respond in any way, just laying limply on the cold hard floor beneath him. Continuing with the gentle treatment, he lifts you into his arms – you’re not sure if you’re not in agony because he’s being careful with you, or if you just can’t feel anymore – and places you on the table, the difference in temperature welcome to your freezing body.

“By the time these heal, you won’t need them to remind you that you’re mine.” He promises, running his hands across your battered body like he’s savouring every mark on your skin. You’re shivering, you’re sweating from just enduring the torture, you’re barely able to stay awake – you’re not sure why you’re bothering to try to at all.

“And if you need a reminder, we can always try something else…” He says, his voice soft and dangerous as he lifts the branding iron into view, turning it over. You see the twisted metal is curved into his initials, G.T., and your stomach roils at the thought.

“No, please!” you whimper, your hand coming up to grab his wrist before you’ve thought about it. He looks from your hand on his wrist up to your eyes, still holding the branding iron, but doesn’t make a move to hit you or remove himself from your weak grip.

“It’ll put you at risk if anyone ever saw it,” you offer weakly, trying to think up a reason for him to not go through with it. He gives you an amused smile, humouring your attempt at persuasion. You bite your tongue, bracing yourself to speak the words that will throw your remaining dignity and self-respect out the window.

“And… I know I’m yours,” you whisper, forcing yourself to maintain his gaze as you search his eyes, trying to read his thoughts. You think you see a shred of vulnerability in those cold blue orbs, and push yourself to exploit it. “I’m all yours, Gus.”

He knows you’re lying, you know he does, but seeing you force yourself to say those words out loud is as good a form of surrender as any in his eyes.

He lowers the branding iron, and you start to breathe again.

He looks down at you, one hand over his mouth as he considers what to do with you, and you don’t even think about moving or speaking, not wanting to set him off again. Finally, he laughs quietly to himself, and the sound immediately has you on edge again.

“All mine, huh? I think we should consummate that,” he says decisively, scooping you up off the table and knocking everything else off of it with a sweep of his arm, sending the torture implements clattering to the floor. He turns you in his arms and bends you over the table, your injuries screaming in protest. You hear him unbuckling his belt and start to panic but he holds you down, leaning over you and pressing you down with his body. Oh God no.

“Did you know that the expression ‘to have somebody over a barrel’ was originally a nautical term?” he asks in your ear, his voice calm and nearly cheerful as he pins you against the table. You can feel him reach between you and start to stroke himself. You don’t speak, you can’t, instead shaking your head in response to his question, hoping that maybe if you obey the best you can he’ll reconsider what he’s about to do. Just the thought has you fighting to keep your body from trembling.

“It’s from when sailors could be disciplined by being bent over a barrel in front of their crewmates and getting flogged,” he continues casually, as though you were discussing the weather. But then a hand fists in your hair, pulling your head back until you’re looking at him upside down, your back arching well past the point of comfort.

“I thought about bringing back that tradition with you, of letting the crew take turns with you for how you tried to fuck us over. I was about ready to let them ruin you, fuck you in every hole until you didn’t know your own name. But no. You’re mine, you fucked with me, and I’m going to dole out enough punishment for everyone.”

You’re hyperventilating, the action drawing your attention to your bruised ribs, but Gus pays you no mind, instead cutting the ropes free from the pulley system to first tie your arms to your sides, and then to tie you to the table, the ropes digging into the sensitive flesh of your waist as you struggle against him. Feeling some of your injuries start to bleed again as the rough rope tears into your skin, you force yourself to stop, one swollen cheek pressed flat against the table. You try to see him through your peripheral vision, but you can’t turn yourself enough with the ropes holding you tightly how he wants you.

“Gus,” you whimper out his name, knowing that trying to talk him out of this is futile but also knowing that you have to try. “Gus, please don’t. Just give me some time, let me heal up a bit, and I – I’ll be willing. I’ll be yours, I won’t fight, but just don’t –”

“Ssshhhh…” Gus hisses, coming to stand in front of you. He pulls you up by the hair, lifting you off the table to face him. You glance down against your better judgement and glimpse his long, thick cock, and your entire body shudders in fear and revulsion. You don’t think that something that big could ever fit inside you comfortably, even if you wanted it. The mere thought of him forcing himself inside you when you were unwilling has you thrashing against your bondage again. Of all the torture you’d been exposed to tonight – the beatings, the ice, the threat of being branded – none of them come close to what this will do to you.

“I’m gonna have all of you, Y/N, you hear me?” He grips your chin roughly, tilting your head so that you’re looking up at him as he speaks. “I’ve got your body, but I want your mind, your heart, your soul… and I’ll have them eventually. For now, I’ll settle for what I’ve got, even if I have to tie you down to take it.”

“No…” you groan, your tears streaming down your cheeks and onto Gus’s hand.

“I know you’re scared, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting. But it’ll get better over time, I promise. Once you can admit you love me like I love you, this is gonna be magic.”

He holds three of his fingers in front of your face, all bundled together, and you shy away. He lets out a long, drawn-out sigh of disapproval.

“I’m offering you a chance to make this better for yourself, Y/N. Suck my fingers, get them nice and wet – it’s the only lube you’re getting.”

Looking up at him with pleading eyes, you reluctantly force your jaw to open, laying your tongue flat against the bottom of your mouth. A rumble emanates from Gus’s chest, his eyes glittering at the show of obedience.

“That’s it, that’s good. Now, no teeth, sweetheart, or you’ll regret it,” he warns, turning your head so that your gaze falls to the branding iron that he had knocked to the floor. You swallow thickly, nodding silently. All you can do is give in at this point, and hope that it makes this process remotely less traumatic.

Gus slides his fingers past your lips and deep into your mouth, making you gag as they brush against your throat. You push past the discomfort, sealing your lips around him. Your mouth is bone dry out of fear and disgust, so you wriggle your tongue along the underside of his fingers, trying to stimulate saliva production. Gradually, it begins to work, and Gus gives you a feral grin of approval.

“Oh, good girl!” he leers, pumping his fingers into your mouth. “Yeah, just like that!”

Eventually he pulls his fingers free with a ‘pop!’ before turning to position his hard cock just in front of your chin. You resist the urge to flinch.

“Spit on it,” he commands, and you obey, doing your best to force saliva out of your mouth, a string of drool connecting your lower lip to the head of his cock. He greedily gathers it with a finger, coating his cock as he moves to walk around the table. You brace yourself, but are unable to keep your body from shuddering. You feel his slippery fingers at your entrance and reflexively lurch forward, the lip of the table digging into your stomach, and force yourself to relax – you didn’t want to give him any reason to be rougher with you.

“That’s right, honey, just relax,” Gus croons, watching you fight your instinct to escape him. He enters you with two fingers abruptly, stretching you out, and you let out a cry of pain. His other hand runs down your spine, the light touch still managing to exacerbate your injuries.

“You look so good like this, Y/N,” he groans, keeping his hand at the small of your back as he withdraws his fingers from you to line his cock up at your entrance. “With every inch of you marked as mine. I’m gonna own you inside and out, so just relax and let me in.”

His hips surge forward to meet yours, his cock feeling like it’s splitting you open and you groan, your nails digging into your palms as you try to distract yourself from his intrusion. He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back so he can whisper in your ear, his hips thrusting slow and deep as they open you up. You swear you can feel every part of his cock rubbing at your inner walls, claiming you as his, and every pump of his hips makes you gasp, whiny little ‘ah, ah, ah’s that punctuate his movements within you.

“Oh fuck yes, baby, you’re so tight,” he grunts through gritted teeth, his breath hot on the back of your neck. “That’s it, just let me have you, let me make you mine. Now moan for me, like a good little whore, or I’ll give you something to moan about.”

Something about his words makes something within you snap, and you find yourself dissociating from the experience, feeling like you’re in an almost trance-like state. You moan low and loud, the sound devoid of passion, and simulate making love with him, following his instructions in your ear mechanically. You try to keep your body relaxed and close your mind off to what you’re doing, but his thrusts keep bringing you back to the present.

“Tell me who this tight little cunt belongs to,” he snarls, straightening up and gripping your bruised, bloodied hips in his large hands, kneading and pinching at your tender flesh. “Tell me that you’re mine,” he demands, punctuating every word with a thrust of his cock.

“Ahh yes, Gus! I’m yours, I’m all yours!” you scream, your eyes shut tight like you’re trying to block out your own words. Just when you start to hope against hope that this is almost at an end, Gus pulls out, coming back to stand in front of you.

“Hearing you scream for me is music to my ears, baby,” he purrs approvingly. “Arch up for me.”

You do your best, fighting the ropes and your injured body to straighten up, lifting your head and torso off the table; it’s a deeply uncomfortable position. Gus immediately reaches for you, fondling your chest with rough fingers. You fight to keep yourself upright, staring up at him through your tears. This couldn’t go on forever; you just have to hold out a little longer.

“Suck my cock, Y/N,” he murmurs, the threatening tone out of his voice, and you know that he's testing your obedience. “And you’ll want to be thorough to help you handle what’s coming next.”

Your whole body tenses up at the implication, and he gives you a patronizing smile, lightly slapping at your cheek to get you to open your mouth.

“Never taken it in the ass before, huh? At least there’s one first left for me to have.” He seems insanely thrilled at the thought of claiming any warped form of your remaining virginity, outright grinning at you now as he brings his cock to your lips. “And remember, no teeth, or I’ll change my mind about letting the crew have their turn with you.”

“Gus–” you try to cut in to plea your case, your little dissociative bubble popping at the thought of him taking you in the ass, but the moment you open your mouth he’s thrust himself inside. It’s impossible to even try to speak around his cock, so you don’t bother, saving your breath as he fucks your face.

Tears are pouring down your cheeks and mixing with the drool dripping down your chin, and he hums in approval at the depraved scene before him.

“That pretty little mouth was made to please,” he moans, his balls hitting your chin with the force of his thrusts down your throat. “Do that little thing with your tongue, like you did to my fingers.”

His request has you thinking that if you can get him off, he won’t be able to rape you anywhere else, at least for the moment. Pushing past your mangled pride and dignity, you force yourself to please him as best you can, moaning around his cock, bobbing your head and swirling your tongue around his length like you couldn't get enough.

Gus notices the change immediately, throwing his head back as you let him push past your gag reflex and take him fully into your mouth and throat, your eyes watering. He thrusts into you three more times, holding himself deep inside you before pulling out reluctantly, giving you a wicked smile.

“You almost had me, sneaky woman,” he confesses with a wry grin, tapping your nose almost affectionately. “Almost had me losing control and coming on that tongue.”

You look up at him guiltily, hating that you were caught, and that you’d just willingly sucked the bastard off for no reason. He seems to be able to read your thoughts like they’re written all over your face, and he knows just what to say to make his words sting.

“But I’ll keep in mind how eager you are to give head, my little siren. I’ll make sure you get lots of opportunity for it,” he winks at you conspiratorially, like he’s letting you in on a secret. “But not even your willing, desperate mouth is going to distract me from finishing your punishment, Y/N.”

“Gus, please!” you scream frantically as he starts to walk around the table. “Please, I can’t take anymore! I’ll be good, I’ll be yours, I’ll be anything you want, just please don’t!”

“Oh, baby girl,” he coos, pausing to spit lewdly on your puckered hole, the head of his cock immediately pressing against it. “I know you’re gonna be good, gonna be mine. This is gonna guarantee it.”

It feels like he’s using his entire body, all of his strength to hold you down and spread you open as he forces his cock inside your ass, your throat burning and raw from the force of your shrieks. You dig your nails into your thighs until they bleed as he works his way inside of you, bottoming out after what seems like an eternity.

Gus stills, panting from exertion and sweat dripping onto your battered back and making your cuts sting, though the pain is nothing compared to the sensation of having your organs rearranged from his cock inside you.

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses through gritted teeth, “and I thought your cunt was tight. Fucking hell, baby, this body was made to take my cock!” He lets out a breathless chuckle, and you feel it inside of you.

“I’m gonna pound your ass so good, princess, and I want you to beg. I want you to beg for more, beg for me to come in you until I do. And if you don’t, I’ll find something else to fuck you with until you learn to do what I say.”

This was it; you had nothing left. He had taken everything from you. Once you did this (and you would), you’d belong to him.

You don’t try to resist; instead, you fight your body’s instinct to scream and cry and instead force yourself to give him what he wants, screaming his name, begging for him to use you, your moans of pain almost sounding convincing as cries of pleasure. You’ll give Gus what he wants, you’ll do anything to keep this from ever happening again.

Finally, his hips start to stutter, his grip on you tightening, and you know he’s close.

“Guuuus,” you groan, his name one long, pained syllable. “Please come in me!”

He does with an inhuman roar, and you feel him shoot his load deep inside you, marking your insides as belonging to him. His large body pins you down as he catches his breath, and then he shoves off of you, pulling out and gathering his clothes while you lay boneless over the table. You barely notice when he cuts you loose, your body slumping to the ground. You whine, not speaking, not thinking; there’s nothing to think.

Gus comes to stand in front of you, gently wrapping his leather jacket around your mutilated form and lifting you into his arms. Your body is shutting down, your eyes closed as you try to focus on your breathing, and it takes you a moment to realize that he is kissing you, his lips and tongue claiming you as well.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, baby,” he coos down at you sweetly. “Then we can start over.”

He carries you out of the room slowly. You’re not sure of what you're leaving behind, of where you’ve been this whole time; you pass out before you reach the door. [No picture with good enough quality to be worth including - feel free to send one if you have it!]

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Epilogue