ᗷAIL ᗰONEY ᗷLUES
. ✦ ݁ ˖ SUMMARY - Fourth time bailing deadbeat baby daddy Suguru out of jail. Fourth time spending money meant for your daughter's diapers on his bail. Fourth time he's ghosted you for weeks then suddenly needs you.
CW: ╰┈➤ explicit sexual content, toxic relationship dynamic, baby daddy drama, criminal behavior, manipulation, angry sex, degradation, praise kink, breeding kink, possessive behavior, choking, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, toxic!geto, this is messy and unhealthy ゛ ˎˊ˗
The police station smells the same as it always does—stale coffee, industrial cleaner, and disappointment.
You're sitting in the hard plastic chair in the waiting area, your two-year-old daughter asleep in her stroller beside you, and you're trying to remember why you keep doing this. Why you keep answering the calls. Why you keep coming down here with bail money you can't afford to spend.
"Ms. L/N?" The officer at the desk calls your name.
You stand, carefully walking around the stroller. "That's me."
"He's being processed now. Should be about ten more minutes."
"Thank you." You sit back down, checking your phone.
Three weeks. Three weeks since Suguru had shown up at your apartment at 2 AM, had slipped into your bed like he still had the right, had whispered promises about changing, about being there for you and Akari, about finally getting his shit together.
Three weeks since he'd left the next morning while you were in the shower, taking two hundred dollars from your purse and disappearing.
No calls. No texts. Nothing.
Until the phone call from the police station an hour ago.
"Yeah, hi, this is Suguru Geto. I get one call and—baby, listen, I need you to come get me—"
You should've hung up. Should've blocked his number for the hundredth time. Should've let him sit in jail and figure out his own mess.
But then you'd thought about Akari, about how she'd asked about "Dada" yesterday, about how she has his eyes and his smile, about how despite everything, she deserves to know her father.
So here you are. Again.
The door buzzes and he walks out, and you hate that your stomach still flips when you see him.
Suguru Geto looks exactly the same—6'3" with long black hair pulled into a half up and down messy bun, sharp features that border on beautiful, piercings in his ears, tattoos visible on his neck and creeping down his arms. He's wearing the same clothes from three weeks ago—black baggy jeans, leather jacket, boots that have seen better days.
He sees you and his whole face lights up. "Baby—"
"Don't." You stand, grabbing the stroller. "Let's just go."
His expression falters, but he follows you out to the parking lot. You can feel him watching you as you carefully transfer Akari from the stroller to her car seat, buckling her in with practiced efficiency while she sleeps on, completely oblivious.
You fold the stroller, put it in the trunk, and get in the driver's seat. Suguru slides into the passenger side.
The silence is heavy as you pull out of the parking lot.
"So—" he starts.
"What was it this time?" you cut him off. "Drugs? Assault? Grand theft auto?"
"Possession with intent to distribute," he says quietly. "But it was a misunderstanding—"
"It's always a misunderstanding." Your hands tighten on the steering wheel. "How much was bail?"
"Five thousand."
"Five thousand dollars." You laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Do you know how many shifts I had to pick up to save that? Do you know what I had to do to get that money together in an hour?"
"I'll pay you back—"
"With what money, Suguru?" You glance at him. "You don't have a job. You don't have an apartment. You're dealing drugs and getting arrested every other month. What exactly are you going to pay me back with?"
"I'm working on something—"
"You're always working on something!" Your voice rises and Akari stirs in the backseat. You lower your voice, but the anger is still there. "You're always about to get clean, always about to get a real job, always about to be the father she deserves. But you never do. You just keep disappointing us."
"That's not fair—"
"What's not fair?" You pull up to a red light and turn to face him fully. "That I'm raising our daughter alone? That I'm working two jobs to afford our apartment while you're out doing god knows what? That every time I start to move on, you show up and promise me it'll be different, and I believe you like an idiot?"
"Baby—" He reaches for your hand and you pull away.
"Don't call me that. Don't—" You swallow hard. "I can't keep doing this, Suguru. I can't keep bailing you out, literally and figuratively. Akari deserves better. I deserve better."
"I know." His voice is rough. "I know you do. I'm sorry—"
"Sorry doesn't pay rent. Sorry doesn't show up for her birthday. Sorry doesn't mean anything when you keep doing the same shit over and over."
The light turns green. You drive in silence for a few blocks.
"Where am I taking you?" you ask finally.
"I don't—" He pauses. "Can I stay with you? Just for tonight. I'll figure something out tomorrow."
"No."
"Please. I have nowhere else to go. They kicked me out of the last place and—"
"That's not my problem."
"She's my daughter too." His voice takes on an edge. "I have a right to see her."
"You have a right?" Your laugh is bitter. "You've seen her maybe five times in two years. You missed her first steps. Her first words. Her first birthday. You don't get to pull the father card when it's convenient."
"I know I fucked up—"
"You didn't fuck up, Suguru. Fucking up is forgetting to buy milk. What you did—what you keep doing—is abandonment. It's choosing drugs and crime and whatever the fuck else over your own daughter."
"That's not—" His jaw clenches. "You don't understand what it's like—"
"What what's like? Being an adult? Having responsibilities? Because I understand that perfectly. I do it every single day."
"Must be nice," he says, and there's an edge to it now. "Being so perfect. So responsible. Looking down on me from your high horse—"
"Are you serious right now?" You almost swerve. "You're really going to make yourself the victim here?"
"I'm not—"
"You are!" You pull into a parking lot—a closed grocery store—and throw the car in park. Akari's still sleeping in the back. "You always do this. Every time I try to hold you accountable, you twist it around like I'm attacking you. Like I'm the bad guy for expecting you to be a father."
"I am trying—"
"Trying?" You unbuckle your seatbelt, turning to face him fully. "You stole two hundred dollars from me three weeks ago! You said you were going to buy diapers and groceries and instead you disappeared for three weeks! That's not trying, that's—"
"I had a debt to pay off—"
"You had a daughter to feed!"
"Don't you think I know that?" His voice rises to match yours. "Don't you think I hate myself for it? Don't you think I wish I could be what you need? What she needs?"
"Then why don't you?" Your voice breaks. "Why do you keep choosing everything else over us?"
"Because I'm fucking terrified!" He's yelling now too, and you're both too angry to care about waking Akari. "Because every time I look at her, I see how much I'm fucking up. How much I'm like my own deadbeat father. How much I'm going to ruin her the way he ruined me."
"So your solution is to abandon her completely? That makes it better?"
"I don't know what else to do!" His hands fist in his hair. "I'm not good at this. I'm not good at being responsible or stable or whatever the fuck you need me to be. I'm good at dealing and fighting and getting arrested. That's it. That's all I know."
"That's bullshit and you know it." You're crying now, angry tears streaming down your face. "You're smart. You're capable. You could be anything you wanted if you just—"
"What? Tried harder? Wanted it more?" He laughs bitterly. "You think I don't want to be better? You think I like being the fuck-up?"
"I think you like having an excuse." Your voice is quiet now, deadly. "I think you like being able to say 'this is just who I am' so you don't have to actually change."
The silence that follows is suffocating.
Then Suguru moves.
He unbuckles his seatbelt, reaches across the console, and kisses you.
You should push him away. Should slap him. Should do literally anything except what you do—which is kiss him back.
It's angry and desperate and tastes like three years of unresolved everything. His hand fists in your hair, pulling you closer, and you bite his lip hard enough that he groans.
"Fuck," he breathes against your mouth. "I missed you. Missed this."
"Shut up." You kiss him harder, not wanting words, not wanting promises he won't keep. Just wanting—needing—something that isn't this constant ache.
His hand slides down your neck, your collarbone, palming your breast through your shirt. "Baby—"
"I said shut up." You pull back, breathing hard. Akari's still asleep in the back—she sleeps like the dead, thank god. "We're not doing this here."
"Your place?"
You should say no. Should tell him to get out and figure out his own shit.
Instead you put the car in drive. "One night. That's it. And you're gone in the morning."
"Whatever you say."
The drive to your apartment is tense and charged. His hand rests on your thigh, inching higher, and you don't stop him even though you should.
When you pull into your parking spot, you carefully get Akari out—still asleep, miracle of miracles—and carry her inside. Suguru follows with the diaper bag.
Your apartment is small—one bedroom, barely enough space for you and Akari, definitely not enough for Suguru's chaos. But it's yours. Clean and organized and covered in toys and photos of Akari's milestones that he missed.
You put Akari in her crib, turn on the monitor, and close the door softly.
When you turn around, Suguru is right there.
"We shouldn't—" you start.
"Probably not." His hand cups your face. "But we're going to anyway, aren't we?"
"This doesn't fix anything."
"I know." He leans down, lips brushing yours. "But right now, I don't care. Right now, I just need you."
You should have more self-respect. Should tell him to sleep on the couch and deal with this in the morning with clear heads.
Instead you grab his jacket and pull him toward your bedroom.
The door barely closes before you're on each other.
He pushes you against it, mouth hot and demanding on yours, hands everywhere at once. You pull at his jacket, his shirt, needing skin.
"Missed you," he mutters between kisses. "Missed your body, missed your smell, missed the way you taste—"
"Stop talking." You bite his neck, hard enough to leave a mark, and he groans.
"Fuck, I love when you're mean to me." His hands slide under your shirt, palming your breasts. "Love when you're angry. Gets me so fucking hard."
You can feel it—the thick line of his cock pressing against your stomach through his jeans. As toxic as this is, as much as you hate him right now, your body remembers. Remembers how good he feels, how well he fits, how he's the only one who's ever made you completely lose control.
"This is so fucked up," you breathe as he pulls your shirt over your head.
"Yeah." He unhooks your bra with one hand—practice from three years together. "It is. We're fucked up. This whole thing is fucked up. But I don't care right now."
His mouth finds your breast, tongue circling your nipple, and you arch into him. Your hands work at his belt, popping the button on his jeans.
"Bed," you manage. "Now."
He walks you backward until your knees hit the mattress. You fall back and he follows, covering your body with his. He's so much bigger than you—6'3" to your 5'5", broad and muscular despite his lifestyle. The size difference has always done something to both of you.
"Look at you," he murmurs, hands sliding down your sides. "Still so fucking perfect. Can't believe you had my baby. Can't believe this body—"
"Suguru." It comes out as a warning. "If you're about to get sentimental, I will kick you out right now."
"Not sentimental." He pulls your leggings and underwear off in one motion. "Just appreciative. There's a difference."
He settles between your legs, and when his fingers slide through your wetness, you both groan.
"Fuck, you're soaked." He circles your clit with just enough pressure to make you squirm. "This all for me? Even though you hate me right now?"
"I do hate you," you gasp as he pushes two fingers inside you.
"I know." He curls them, finding that spot that makes you see stars. "But you still want me. Still get wet for me. Still let me touch you like this."
"Shut—up—" It comes out broken as he works his fingers faster.
"Make me." His thumb finds your clit and the combination is devastating.
You reach down, palming him through his jeans, and he chokes. "You want my mouth shut? Give me something better to do with it."
His eyes darken. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You push at his shoulders. "On your back."
He complies, and you work his jeans and boxer briefs down his legs. His cock springs free—long and thick and already leaking.
You don't waste time. You wrap your hand around the base and take him in your mouth.
"Fuck—" His hand immediately goes to your hair, fisting in it. "Fuck, baby, just like that—"
You take him deeper, relaxing your throat, remembering exactly how he likes it. He's big enough that you can't take all of him, but you work what doesn't fit with your hand.
"So good," he's babbling now. "So good at this, so perfect, missed this mouth, missed the way you—fuck—"
You pull off with an obscene pop. "Still want me to shut up?"
"Get up here." It's a command, rough and desperate. "Need to fuck you. Need to be inside you right now."
You climb up his body and sink down on him in one smooth motion.
The stretch is intense—it's been three weeks since he disappeared, longer since you've been with anyone else (because who has time for dating when you're a single mom?), and he's big enough that it always takes adjustment.
"Oh fuck," you both say at the same time.
"So tight," he groans, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "How are you so tight? It's like your pussy is trying to strangle my cock."
"Maybe it is." You start moving, rolling your hips. "Maybe it wants to punish you."
"Punish me?" His laugh is strained. "Baby, this is a reward."
You lift up and slam back down, hard, and he chokes. "Does that feel like a reward?"
"Yes—fuck yes—do it again—"
You set a brutal pace, riding him hard and angry, channeling three weeks of hurt and anger into every movement. He matches you thrust for thrust, hips snapping up to meet you.
"That's it," he encourages. "Use me. Take what you need. Fuck me like you hate me."
"I do hate you—" You're breathless now, thighs burning. "Hate you so much—"
"Then why—" He sits up suddenly, changing the angle, and you cry out. "—why does this pussy keep coming back to me? Why does it grip me like it never wants to let go?"
"Because I'm an idiot—"
"No." His hand wraps around your throat—not squeezing, just holding. "Because we're good together. Because no matter how much we fuck up everything else, this is always right. Isn't it?"
You can't argue because it's true. Whatever else is broken between you, this has always worked. The sex has always been intense, overwhelming, perfect.
"Say it," he demands, thumb pressing against your pulse. "Say I'm right."
"You're right—" It comes out strangled. "This is—it's always—"
"Always perfect." He flips you suddenly—he's on top now, your legs over his shoulders, and the new angle has him impossibly deeper. "This pussy is mine. Doesn't matter how long I'm gone. Doesn't matter who else you try to be with. It's mine."
"Possessive asshole—"
"Your possessive asshole." He starts fucking you in earnest now—deep, hard strokes that have the headboard hitting the wall. "The father of your baby. The only man who's ever made you come like this."
"Suguru—" You're close, can feel it building. "I'm—"
"I know." His hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit. "Can feel you getting tighter. You're gonna come all over my cock like a good girl, aren't you?"
"Don't—don't call me that—"
"Why not? You are good. So fucking good. Too good for me." He circles your clit faster. "But you're gonna come for me anyway. Gonna let me make you feel good even though you shouldn't."
"Fuck you—"
"You are, baby. You're fucking me so well." His rhythm is getting sloppy, losing control. "Gonna come too. Gonna fill up this pretty pussy. Would you like that? Want me to fill you up again?"
"Don't you dare—" But your body betrays you, clenching at his words.
"Oh, you do." His grin is wicked. "You want it. Want me to come inside you. Want me to mark you from the inside out. Maybe knock you up again—"
"Suguru—"
"Imagine that. Another baby. Another piece of me you can't get rid of—"
You come with a cry that you barely manage to muffle, clenching around him so hard he groans. He fucks you through it, chasing his own release.
"Where—" He gasps. "Where do you want it—"
"Pull out—" You manage. "Can't risk—"
But he's already too far gone. He buries himself deep and comes with a broken groan of your name, spilling inside you.
For a long moment, neither of you moves. Just breathing hard, sweat-slicked, tangled together.
Then reality crashes back.
"Fuck," you breathe. "You didn't pull out."
"I'm sorry—" He doesn't sound sorry. "I tried, I just—"
"Just like last time." You push at his chest and he pulls out, rolling onto his back. "That's how we got Akari."
"Would that really be so bad?" His voice is quiet. "Another one?"
You sit up, staring at him. "Are you insane? I can barely afford one kid. I'm doing everything alone. And you want to—" You stand, grabbing tissues. "Get out."
"Baby—"
"Don't." You clean yourself up with shaking hands. "Don't 'baby' me. Don't act like this was anything more than—" You gesture vaguely. "Just don't."
He sits up, and for the first time tonight, he looks genuinely hurt. "It was more than that. You know it was."
"Do I?" You pull on your underwear, your shirt. "Because from where I'm standing, you just used me. Again. Said pretty words you don't mean. Again. Made promises you won't keep. Again."
"That's not fair—"
"Nothing about this is fair!" Your voice rises and you immediately lower it, remembering Akari sleeping in the next room. "Nothing about loving someone who keeps breaking your heart is fair. Nothing about raising a child alone while their father chooses drugs over them is fair."
"I choose you—"
"No, you don't." Your voice breaks. "If you chose us, you'd get clean. You'd get a real job. You'd show up when you say you will. You'd stop breaking into my life whenever it's convenient and disappearing when it's not."
He's quiet for a long moment. Then: "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to leave."
"That's not what you want."
"Yes, it is." You're crying now, and you hate it. "I want you to leave and I want to move on and I want to stop bailing you out—literally and figuratively. I want to stop loving someone who's never going to love me back the same way."
"I do love you—"
"Love isn't enough!" The words explode out of you. "Love doesn't pay rent or raise babies or show up when it matters. Love is just—it's just words when you don't back it up with actions."
He stands, starts getting dressed. "So that's it? I just leave? Never see Akari again?"
"You can see her." Your voice is tired now. "But on my terms. Supervised visits. Regular times. And if you miss one—if you disappoint her even once—you're done. I'll get a lawyer. I'll file for full custody. I'll do whatever I have to do to protect her from this."
"From me, you mean."
"From this." You gesture between you. "This toxic back-and-forth. This cycle we keep repeating. She deserves stability. She deserves a father who shows up. And if you can't be that, then she deserves to not have hope that you will be."
He finishes dressing, and for a moment, he just looks at you. Really looks at you.
"I'm sorry," he says finally. "For all of it. For not being what you need. For disappointing you. For—" His voice catches. "For not being strong enough to stay away but not strong enough to really stay."
"Me too," you whisper.
He moves toward you, and you think he's going to kiss you. Instead, he just presses his forehead to yours.
"I'll try," he says quietly. "I'll really try this time. I'll get clean. I'll get a job. I'll be there for her. For both of you."
"I've heard that before."
"I know." He pulls back. "But I mean it this time."
"Then prove it." You step away. "Don't tell me. Show me. Be the father she deserves. Be the man I fell in love with. Or let us go."
He nods once, then heads for the door.
"Suguru?" you call when he reaches it.
He turns back.
"Don't call me to bail you out again. Next time, you sit in jail until you figure out your own shit."
Something like respect flashes in his eyes. "Fair enough."
And then he's gone.
You stand there for a long moment, listening to his footsteps fade, the front door close, his bike start up outside.
Then you go check on Akari. She's still sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the mess her parents just made.
"I'm sorry, baby girl," you whisper, smoothing her hair. "I'm sorry your dad is—I'm sorry for all of it. But I promise, I'm going to do better. I'm going to be stronger. For you."
