Aud

Even back then, you knew it was a joke. Not a promise. She just wanted you to cheer up. She wasn’t agreeing to be a spinster with you. 

Still, when she called you with the news, something broke within you. 

“-He’s great! He’s so great!” Her voice crackles through the phone. “I’ve never met someone so kind and gentle. And his face! He’s so handsome. It was love at first sight.” 

She excitedly tells you how they met, how he’d tapped her shoulder in the library, asking if she knew where to find a book. She’d only seen a glimpse of his badge, his name, and then the rest was history. 

The more she talks, the more you sink. You could almost imagine what she looked like as she spoke. Her cheeks would glow with a warm pink. There would be a sparkle in her eye that makes her look younger. It was so selfish of you to drown in misery when she’s so happy. She’s your closest friend. She deserves better than someone so jaded. 

You’re glad she isn’t here in person. You don’t want her to see how bitter you feel. 

You close the hole in your heart with cement and faux delight. 

“He sounds great,” you hear yourself say. 

“When can I meet him?” 

❤︎

You’ve never seen someone so tall before. 

He wasn’t dressed to stand out. The simple, black coat drapes perfectly against his lean figure. His hair is coiled into an elegant bun, showcasing his neck and black earrings. His face is sharp and edged with beauty. 

Unmei tugs him over, looking at him with bright, glimmering eyes. Love. You can see the truth stamped right on her face. 

She slides into the seat across from you. He mirrors her. The whispers and noises within the cafe hush their voices a bit. 

And yet, you can hear his voice clearly. Low and gentle. 

“Did I say it right?” Geto asks right after he says your name. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Unmei flushes. 

You spot the expensive watch hanging off his wrist as he reaches over to shake your hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. 

“Change,” his purple eyes murmur, “the end of it all.” 

The next hour passes with small talk and introductions. Unmei is the main talker, with Geto adding something in every so often. They work well together; you quietly observe, sipping on watered-down iced coffee. They fit. Pieces of a puzzle. Made for each other. 

They are soulmates, after all. 

“-It’s why I wanted you to meet him so bad,” Unmei tells you when you finally tune in again. “You two are so similar! It’d be nice to have all of us hang out sometime.” 

“That would be nice.” Geto nods along before directing his gaze at you. “Perhaps you could bring your own soulmate, too.” 

Your throat tightens. Unmei blanches. You can sense her about to redirect, but you figure it’s best if you bite the bullet now. 

“I don’t have one.” You tell him, forcing your voice to sound light. 

It takes a second for people to understand what you’re telling them–that you’re one of those. You wait for Geto to get that shameful look of pity everyone gets the moment you tell them. You’ve spent years like this, but it never stops stinging. 

No pity. No sympathy. 

He leans forward. His eyes sharpen. 

“Really?” 

You shrug, avoiding his gaze to sip on your coffee. You can still feel his eyes prickle on your skin even after Unmei changes the conversation. 

Hours later, she texts you: sooo what’d you think????

You write exactly what she wants to hear.

He’s perfect for you:) 

❤︎

Your second interaction with Geto happens without Unmei. 

Some days, you liked to wander: turn your brain off, stroll through random shops, admiring the various knick-knacks you could never justify the price enough to purchase. Today, your feet led you into a small bookstore. 

The door alerts to your presence with a cheery jingle. The man at the front spares you a lukewarm smile as you trek into his store. The smell of paper and ink greets your nose. It’s a cozy place. Quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling city just outside. 

One of your favorite authors recently published a new book. You weren’t sure if this bookstore had it, but you told yourself it wouldn’t hurt to check. You scanned the rows and shelves, drifting around the store to see if you could spot it. 

You were so distracted, you didn’t notice him until you quite literally walked into him. 

Hands reach out to steady you. Firm but gentle. You look up as a bundle of apologies is ready to spill from your lips. They die once you look into sharp purple eyes. 

Geto smiles when his hands release your shoulders. 

“Careful there.” 

You reanimate at his voice. You step back, mindful of how close he was. 

“Sorry,” you tell him, “I–I didn’t see you.” 

“I could tell.” His grin widens, and you sheepishly glance down. 

“This is a very welcome coincidence,” he continues, “I didn’t know you liked literature as well.” 

You helplessly shrug, trying not to show your discomfort. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Geto. He seemed like a nice person, but you were not ready at all for a one-on-one interaction with your friend’s new boyfriend. 

“Yeah,” you say when the silence gets too long, “I was just here to see if I could find something in particular…” Just then, your eyes drift up. 

You catch the title just then. It’s sitting quietly on the top shelf, leering at you. If only you’d found it sooner, it seems to goad at you; you wouldn’t be stuck in the most awkward situation in the world. 

Geto catches your gaze. He glances up at the book. 

“Is that the one?” He asks. 

You nod. He reaches up and lifts it from its respective spot. You expect him to hand it over immediately, but he seems more interested in examining the cover. 

“That sounds interesting.” He comments before handing it to you. “Would you recommend it?”

“I haven’t read it yet.” You admit. “But I’m a big fan of the author.” 

He hums in acknowledgement. That’s when you notice his own stash of books he had tucked under his arm. 

“You’re a horror fan?” You ask.

“Not particularly,” he admits. “I just wanted to branch out. My friend is a huge horror fan. These were mostly his recommendations.” 

You nod. “Unmei also likes horror. The genre at least.” You blab on. “Back when we were in high school, she’d force me to watch all sorts of slasher movies, and then she’d get so scared she’d beg me to let her sleep over.” 

On those days, you’d wake up to her snoring all over your pillows. Later, when you teased her about it, she’d laugh it off with red all over her face. 

Those days were tinged with nostalgia–back when it was just you and Unmei.  

You expect Geto to appreciate the snapshot of his soulmate’s past. That’s why he’s making small talk with you in the first place, right? To get to know her better.

Something flickers across his eyes. It was barely a moment before his face changed to deep sincerity, but you caught it. 

Boredom. 

You were stumped. How could someone be so blatantly uninterested in their soulmate? Or maybe it was you he couldn’t care less about? Or perhaps you just imagined it entirely? 

You feel like you should confront him about it. 

“Sorry,” you say instead, “ I need to head out now.” 

“Of course.” He immediately steps aside to let you pass through the cramped shelves. 

You expect that to be the end of it, but you can hear his footsteps behind you. 

You almost considered abandoning your book entirely, just so you could escape the bookstore. Instead, you flash a tense smile at the cashier, who beams back. 

“Find everything okay?” He asks. 

“We did,” Geto tells him cheerily. He stands right next to you. You can almost feel the coat he wears brush against your shoulder. 

Sometimes you wish you weren’t so nonconfrontational. Maybe you would’ve fought a bit more when Geto casually plucks the book from your loose grip, placing it on top of his own stack. 

“All together, please.” He tells the cashier, before he turns to you. “I got it.” 

“No, it’s fine.” You’re finally able to speak up. It’s too late. The man is already grabbing the bag and saying his regards to the worker behind the counter. He holds the door open for you. 

You meekly thank him. 

“I can pay you back.” You immediately say. 

Geto shakes his head. “It’s fine. Think of it as a gift.” He hands your book into your twitching hands. “A token to the start of a good friendship.” 

You had this bad habit of feeling indebted to someone if they paid for you, to the point where you would bend backwards for them if they asked. 

Something tells you that being in that situation with Geto is a terrible idea. 

You still accept, thanking him as sincerely as you can. 

“That reminds me.” Geto continues, pulling out his phone. “We should exchange contacts. We do share a favorite person after all. It would be wise to keep in touch.” He tells you with a steady grin. 

Your stomach flips. You don’t want to. You genuinely don’t want to. 

But the book is heavy in your hands. 

When Geto offers to walk you to the station, you finally gather the courage to decline. You thank him repeatedly for his kindness, slipping away before he can coax you into doing anything more. 

He was nothing but polite to you 

Kind even. 

But there’s something so horribly wrong about Geto Suguru. 

—

Geto and Unmei moved fast. 

They became an official couple one week after they met. Two months later, Unmei moved into his place. 

They moved fast, as most soulmates do. After all, if two people are destined to be together forever, why wait? Why not get the hard part over with first so you can enjoy forever more? 

At least, that’s how you saw it. 

The party was subdued but extremely upscale. Geto’s apartment was something else entirely. Luxurious floors with open spaces. When you looked outside the spotless glass, you could see the glimmering lights of the city far beneath your feet. 

You felt like you could fall through the glass and crash into those lights. You’d shatter into a million pieces, twinkling like the stars above. 

“Would you like another drink?” A voice asks. 

You glance up. Nanami Kento’s eyes remain on you. You suddenly remember what you were doing. 

You look down at your cup—just water. You were driving home tonight. “I’m fine, but thank you.” 

Nanami nods, taking a swing of his own cup. The amber-colored liquid swirled around the glass. 

Out of all of Geto’s friends, you think you liked Nanami the most. He was quiet, straightforward, polite, and a complete gentleman. He was one of you, you later found out—someone with un inked wrists. When Unmei dragged him across the room to ‘keep each other company’, you thought it was another one of her schemes. 

Well, it definitely still was her scheme, but you didn’t mind it too much. Nanami was good company. He was much more preferable to Geto’s other friend. The tall one with blue eyes and white hair. The one that kept staring at you like he knew something you didn’t. 

“So how do you know Geto?” You ask.

His lips thinned. You almost smile. 

“Old classmates.” He tells you. “He, along with a couple of others, was in the grade above me.” 

He seemed exhausted even thinking about it. You wonder how wild his upper-level students were.

“What about you and Unmei?” He asks after a bit. 

You hide your smile behind your glass. 

“We were practically raised together.” You start. “Attached at the hip, ever since we were kids.” 

You two used to plan your weddings together. She wanted her kid to marry yours. Every day you were at each other’s houses. Every weekend was slumber parties and sleepovers. 

When kids used to mock you for not having a name, she was the one who defended you. She was the one who chased off bullies and wiped away your tears. 

She’s been in your life all your life. You can’t remember a time she wasn’t. 

“Hm,” Nanami comments, “you two sound close.” 

“We are,” you agree, even when you can taste the uncertainty on your tongue.

She stood a little way away. Unmei looked borderline unrecognizable from the one you knew just a few months ago. Her hair was pushed up from her face, a stark contrast to the looser hairstyles she used to prefer. Her dress was sleek and glamorous. She probably wore hundreds of dollars on her wrist. She blended right into the elite group she was currently laughing with. 

Nanami keeps talking about something. You hum along, unable to take your eyes off of her. You keep watching until you can’t anymore. 

Sometime later, you find yourself on the balcony. The murmur of the crowd has dwindled behind you. It’s cold, you didn’t bring a jacket. There are goosebumps littered across your arms, but you don’t want to go inside yet. You’re not sure if you can continue looking at Unmei as she changes into something you can’t reach anymore. 

There it was again. That bitterness. The guilt washes it down all over again. 

Footsteps. Someone takes their place right next to you. At first, you think it’s Nanami’s attempt to restart the conversation. 

Geto leans over the railing, watching the city below. 

“It’s a pretty view, isn’t it?” He asks, voice gentle and soft. “It’s a huge reason why I bought this place.” 

You flex your fingers. The air suddenly gets colder. 

“Yeah.” You give, listening to the muted sounds inside. “It’s beautiful.” 

That’s the truth. The city lights twinkled and buzzed with life. Part of you wanted to sit there and count each one. You might be stuck there for years. 

“It’s even more beautiful in the mornings,” Geto continues, “there’s a gentle fog that covers the city, and the horizon is this pale pink. I really hope you see it one day.” 

You shift, a bit uncomfortable by the confession. You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by it. 

“You have a lovely home.” You finally say. “It’s very beautiful. I’m sure you're ecstatic to share this with Unmei.” 

A genuine smile lifts your face as you think back to the times Unmei gushed about meeting her future soulmate. She’d planned everything: the house, the car, the dog. You’d sat there quietly, listening, just happy to be in her life. 

“I bet you must have waited years to finally meet her.” You tell Geto as you admire the view. “You’re a very lucky man.” 

You expect a laugh. You expect a bashful acceptance. 

“I never wanted to meet my soulmate, initially.” 

For the first time in the conversation, you truly look at Geto. He’s staring right back. His purple eyes are darker in the dim lighting. They’re almost a muddy brown. 

“When I was younger, I had a grim opinion of soulmates.” His jaw tenses. You catch the movement. “The idea of having someone I was tied to by fate used to sicken me. It felt like control. It felt like something cosmic wrote out my future, and I was entirely helpless to it.” 

You can’t pull your eyes away. Whatever you were hearing, no matter how jarring, felt honest. You were drawn to it–a bee to a flower.

“I think now, I’ve mostly changed my mind.” He shrugs. “The bond isn’t truly control. Rather, it’s a path, guiding us to something far more desirable.” 

You blink. What could you say to that? 

Thankfully, Geto doesn’t let you fluster for long. He steps ever so slightly closer. It’s already too close, but you can’t move. You’re stuck in your spot. Paralyzed. 

“And, if anything.” He leans down, voice suddenly hushed. “I’d consider you the lucky one.” 

“Me?” 

He smiles. Amusement laces his lips. Long fingers reach for your arm. He slowly turns your hand, showing your blank, un-inked wrist. 

“Yes,” he tells you, “this is truly lucky.” 

You see it then. It flashes right across his purple eyes. 

Jealousy. 

It’s so hateful, it nearly makes you panic. You stumble back, out of his hold. The meeker part of you urges you to run. As far as you can. Run before–

“Are you alright?” 

Concerned sincerity etches across Geto’s face as he reaches out to stabilize you. Hands press on your shoulders before they slip away. 

You avert your gaze. 

“I’m fine.” It’s too sharp. You force yourself to soften your tone. “I guess it’s a little chilly out.” 

Geto barely wastes a moment. He slips off his jacket and settles it onto your shoulders before you can protest. His cologne clings to the leather. The smell of sandalwood and cinnamon. 

“Keep it.” He stops you when you try to take it off. “Stay out here and enjoy the view a bit more. It’s truly breathtaking.” 

You watch as he slips back inside, playing the perfect host to his guests. The air is still cold, but you can finally breathe again. 

Later that night, Suguru gets on one knee and proposes. 

Unmei says yes. 

❤︎

There’s a way to reject the soul bond. You’ve seen it happen exactly once in your life. 

You were fourteen, watching from the stairs as your mom comforted your next-door neighbor. She was one of the unlucky ones. Her soul bond was filled with nothing but rage and possession. You could see the evidence of it on the bruises on her soft skin. The swelling black eye. 

She kept mumbling something of how sick she was to be tied to him. How she’d rather have no soulmate than one so vile. Your mother kept hushing her, insisting on calling the police, letting her stay the night. 

She’s not listening. It’s like she’s in a trance as she rises on two shaky feet, drifting towards the kitchen. You find yourself following. 

She pulls out a knife, and your mother screams when she digs into the ink on her own wrist. 

She stopped bleeding before the ambulance arrived. There’s a gigantic smile on her face the entire time she’s talking to the paramedics. 

You’ve never seen someone look so free before. 

❤︎

Planning a wedding takes time and money. It’s a good thing that Geto is swimming in the latter. 

The restaurant is upscale and practically swathed in elites. You feel very much out of place with your dress that probably wasn’t even worth the cheapest thing on the menu. Geto assured you plenty of times that this was his treat. Ever since the proposal, you’d been swamped in wedding preparations. This dinner was supposed to be a thank you. 

Tonight is a celebration of two people. 

You, the maid of honor. 

And Gojo, the best man. 

The two of you sat across from the engaged couple. Unmei was beaming the entire night. The ring was glistening on her finger. You’ve seen it all over her social media, not to mention the hours she spent gushing about how perfect the ring and the proposal was. 

But you remembered she hated cluster rings. She used to call them tacky. And she’s told you her perfect proposal over and over again. She’s always wanted it somewhere outdoors, where they’re alone and surrounded by nature. 

The complete opposite of how Suguru did it. 

“I can barely sleep.” Unmei gushes to you while the two men continue their own conversation. “The wedding is still two months away, but I can barely sleep.” 

You give her a comforting smile, taking another sip of your water. Dinner was already eaten, but you hadn’t tasted a single thing. It felt like cement sludge down your throat. 

“I bet that’s normal,” you say, “It’s your day. You should be excited.” 

“Most nights I just dream about flower arrangements.” She frowns before she sits up again. “Shit, the flowers. Please tell me you—“

“Don’t worry, I already booked the florist you were talking to,” you immediately coddle. “Everything is going to be perfect.” 

She visibly relaxes, leaning back in her seat. “Only because you’re here.” She tells you. “I only got this far ‘cuz of you, y'know that?” 

You smile. Her face brightens. 

“Oh!” She exclaims. “Are you planning on bringing anyone? Someone special?”

The two men gradually quieted. You arch your brow. 

“Probably not,” you say, “besides I’ll have a lot of stuff to do on the day of. I won’t have time for a date.” 

“What about bringing Nanami?” She pipes up. “I’m sure he can entertain himself while you’re busy.” 

Someone’s gaze stings your skin. You ignore it. 

“Why would I bring him?” 

She scoffs. 

“Don’t act like that.” She chides. “I saw how into you he was at the party. Please tell me you got his number.” 

You did. And you two text every now and then. Non-soulmates are rare, so even if you don’t end up in a relationship, it’s nice to keep in touch. 

“Nanami?” Geto echoes, finally making it known that he was eavesdropping. 

Unmei turns to him with a smile. “I introduced them a while ago. Aren’t they just perfect for each other?" 

‘Is she saying that just because neither of us has soulmates?’ You try not to feel so harshly about it. 

Geto smiles, but it lacks any warmth. 

Gojo turns to you. 

“I didn’t know you met Nanami?” He sports a wide grin. Almost like a sneer. 

You shrug. “We talked for a bit sometime back.” 

“I feel bad for you. I know I’m not supposed to talk crap about my juniors, but that guy is so boring.” He rolled his eyes. “He was even worse in high school, if you can believe that.” 

“I didn’t think he was all that bad.” You counter. 

“Ah, I get it.” Gojo nods. “You’re into the quiet, studious type of guy.” 

You shift in your seat. “It’s nothing that dramatic.” You respond. “He was just really nice.” 

“Hm.” Gojo takes a swing at his glass. “I guess I see wedding bells in your future, then.” 

“Satoru.” 

Geto’s voice is clipped. His eyes have shadows. Gojo puts his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ motion. There’s a lazy smile on his mouth. The atmosphere is so strained that even Unmei’s smile weakens. You take another sip of your water. You really wish you’d ordered something stronger. You had no idea tonight would be this tense. 

Unmei quickly turns the conversation to something else. She brings up more wedding plans. The rest of the night is spent ignoring the elephant in the room. 

Sometime after that, you and Gojo end up outside the restaurant, alone. Unmei and Geto are still sorting out the bill. You spot them lingering inside. Unmei is talking animatedly to a waitress. Geto is scrolling on his phone. 

You don’t have much in common with Gojo, and you’re happy to keep the silence as the two of you wait. He, however, doesn’t seem to share your thoughts. 

He leans over as you watch the engaged couple. 

“So, how long do you think they’ll last?” 

You glare up at him. He grins. 

“That’s not funny.” You immediately rebuff. “Why would you say that?” 

Satoru shrugs. 

“C’mon, you can’t say you’re the tiniest bit doubtful they’ll stay together, right?” 

You shake your head.

“They’re soulmates,” you respond. Their companionship was written in the stars from the start. They are a certainty. “It’s tradition.”

“Soulmates don’t always stay together,” Satoru says, “and Suguru isn’t one for tradition.” 

You say nothing. Gojo only takes it as a sign to pester you further. 

“Wanna make a bet with me?” 

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“I’ll bet all the money I have that they’ll break up right before the wedding.” He thinks for a moment. “Maybe on the day of: Suguru loves being dramatic.” 

Your lips curl into a sneer. 

“I thought you were supposed to be Geto’s friend?” 

What kind of person bets their friend’s relationship will fail? 

“I am his friend,” Gojo argues. “I’m only saying this ‘cuz I know him so well. No offense to your bestie, but she’s not his type.” 

“No.” He tilts his head, studying you. “He prefers someone a bit more…docile.” 

You shift, trying to hide your discomfort underneath his gaze. 

“They’re coming out.” You watch as the couple shifts closer. “Please don’t tell them you’re betting they’ll break up.” 

Gojo laughs. 

“Aye, captain.” 

❤︎

Unmei stumbles into your apartment at 1 am. 

You’d forgotten you’d given her a spare key. When you woke up to muffled footsteps and murmurs, you thought someone was robbing you. The influx of emotions you felt as you rushed out with a baseball bat, only to discover your friend draped across your couch. 

Your very drunk friend draped across your couch. 

“Unmei?” You shake her shoulder. 

She barely moves. You do it again. She finally groans. 

“Hi.” She rasps out. Her throat is groggy with exhaustion and alcohol. 

“How…” You try to find the proper words. “How did you get here? Did you drive?” 

“Uber.” She murmurs. “Sorry…I…sorry. Didn’t–didn’t wanna go back. Didn’t wanna see him.” 

Her words are stilted, but you think you’re starting to get the picture. 

“Did you and Suguru get into a fight?” You ask gently. 

She laughs. It sounds bitter. 

“You have to talk, to fight.” She tells you, and you want to press her on that, but she’s talking again. 

“Suguru’s sad you don’t like him.” 

“What?” You lean closer so you can hear her properly. 

“Suguru–” She snuggles deeper into your couch”--he’s sad you don’t like him. Why do you not like him?” 

“I like him.” You try to smile. “Of course, I like him. Why wouldn’t I?” 

Her eyes are open. The way she stares at you makes your defenses weaken. 

“I don’t know, Mei.” You eventually respond. “He’s always rubbed me the wrong way. I…I just find him a little weird.” 

You want to tell her about the strange quips Geto’s made. The stuff Gojo said at the restaurant still eats at you. You want to tell her all of those things. 

Unmei doesn’t let you. 

She sits up so fast, you’re almost worried for her. You’re about to tell her to be more careful, but then you notice the look in her eyes. 

Spiteful. 

It’s directed solely at you. 

“Are you fucking joking right now?” She spits out. “My soulmate is going out of his way to be nice to you, but you’re calling him weird?” 

You have to back up as she stumbles to her feet. Her words are slurred and hard to decipher, but the intent is as clear as day. 

“He doesn’t even like you.” She rants. “Why would he? For fuck’s sake you don’t even have a soulmate, and now you’re calling mine weird? You’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous of me, and I’m so sick of doing charity work.” 

You blink. It feels like your heart’s been torn in two. 

“Unmei…?” It’s the only thing you can even think to say to someone who you thought loved you. Tears well in your eyes. 

Unmei knows how sensitive you are about soulmates. She always knew. As bad as your fights got in the past, it’s the one line she hadn’t crossed. 

Until now. 

She realizes what she said. Unmei slumps almost immediately, fully breaking down. 

“I’m sorry.” She blubbers. “I–I’m so sorry, I just.” 

You push aside your feelings as you always have to accommodate hers. She buries her face in her hands. Her shoulders shake. When you wrap your arms around her shoulders, she easily leans into your warmth. 

“I shouldn’t have said that.” She sobs. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” It’s not. “You’re having a bad day. Just sleep it off, okay? We can talk in the morning.” 

She says nothing as you leave her on the couch. Minutes later, you return with a blanket, gently settling it over her still body. 

“I saw him with another girl today.” 

You freeze. Unmei stares blankly at the wall. 

“He barely talks when we’re alone. He never talks. I don’t even know why I followed him, but I saw them together. They got into his car.” Her voice cracks. There’s a muted voice in the back of your head to comfort her. 

You don’t move. 

“I don’t know what they did. I…I just don’t know. That’s part of his job, right? Sometimes he takes his clients out to dinners and stuff.” 

She looks up at you. “And–and everything’s so different when we’re alone. He’s so much warmer with you. Whenever we plan something, he’s always asking if you want to come along too. I just don’t get it.” 

The apartment is quiet. Distinctly, you can hear a clock faintly ticking somewhere. 

“Do you think he’s cheating?” You ask. 

“Do you think he would?” Unmei asks right back. 

You think of being honest. You think about telling her you genuinely don’t know. Then, you remember the anger in her voice just minutes prior. The hurt is still fresh on your mind. It’s instinct to cower and placate after you’ve been burned so harshly. 

Just like always, you tell her exactly what she wants to hear. 

“Of course, he’s nice to me.” You hear yourself say. “He probably feels bad for me.” Because you have no soulmate.

“Unmei, you don’t see the way he looks at you.” Does he ever look at her? 

“He can’t stop talking about you.” You can’t remember a single conversation you and Geto had about her. 

“He loves you. I’m sure of it.” Are you? 

A shy smile creeps up on her face. You can feel yourself shatter. 

“Really?” She asks. 

You settle beside her, squeezing her fingers. 

“Trust me.” Words feel like sand on your tongue. “You are going to make each other so happy.” 

She’s smiling. You think you’re smiling too, but you’re not sure of anything anymore. 

She closes her eyes again. You sit there for a few minutes. When you think she’s asleep, you get up to leave, but her voice stops you. 

“I thought she was you.” 

“You what?” You ask. 

She nuzzles the blanket closer to her face. 

“The girl. I thought she was you, but she wasn’t. She looked like you. It was the weirdest thing.” 

You think she’s about to say more. She doesn’t. 

The next day, Unmei acts as if nothing had happened. She’s laughing and talking during breakfast. You still think about what she said, hours after she left. 

❤︎

The week before the wedding, you finally decide you no longer want to be friends with Unmei. 

You don’t hate her, you could never hate her, but it’s clear you might’ve valued your friendship differently than she did. 

You don’t think you want to boycott the wedding entirely. It’d taken months to plan. The money was already spent. You don’t want to ruin her big day. 

But you don’t think you’ll be taking her calls as frequently. You don’t think you’ll drop everything for her anymore. 

For now, you just want a bit of distance. 

Now that you’ve decided to no longer prioritize her, your life is slowly becoming easier. Instead of doing everything yourself, you’re delegating tasks to the other bridesmaids. You actually make time for yourself instead of fizzing with nerves by the phone, wondering when she’ll call you to her side. 

You can finally breathe again. 

But old habits die hard.  

I need you. Please come.

Unmei texting you in the middle of the night wasn’t a huge issue. But she never sends you this type of message. Formal, short, panicked. 

You stare at the words, reading them over and over again. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again. 

But what if she needed you? 

You’ve been to Suguru’s apartment a few times after the party. It was mostly to pick stuff up or help Unmei. There’s usually a lively atmosphere with warm lights. 

Tonight, as you tap on the door, you can’t help but notice how cold the atmosphere feels. 

He doesn’t leave you waiting. Geto opens the door with a pleasant smile on his face. His grin widens when he locks eyes with you. 

“Come in.” Geto pulls the door back. 

You hesitate, but eventually you step in. Not much has changed since your last visit. There are fresh flowers in a vase. Something’s cooking in the kitchen. Still, the apartment feels emptier, somehow. 

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Geto smiles. “This is a pleasant surprise.” 

You give an awkward smile, shifting your weight. 

“I’m sorry, I won’t be here for long,” you tell him before shifting your gaze to the bedroom, “Is she in there?” 

Geto tilts his head. 

“Are you looking for Unmei?” He slowly asks. 

When you nod, he shakes his head. 

“She headed out for her bachelorette party hours ago.” 

For a moment, you thought you misheard him. 

“Her what?” 

“Her bachelorette party. I’m so sorry, I assumed you were with her. It’s why I was surprised you showed up.” He admits sheepishly. 

“Bachelorette party.” You repeat. 

She told you she didn’t want a bachelorette party. She called it a cliché. And now, when you decide to put your feelings aside and reach out, you find out she left you in the fucking dust as she enjoys her night. 

You were so fucking done with her. 

“Right.” Your throat feels tight. “Ok, then…I should go.” 

A firm hand on your shoulder stops you from walking out the door. Geto stares at you with an empathic frown on his face. 

“You shouldn’t leave like this.” He urges. 

You try to pull away. His grip barely budges. 

“Geto, it’s fine–” 

“You should eat something at least. It’d be rude to send you away after you’ve been such a good friend to my fiancé.” 

That stung even though you know he didn’t mean it like that. 

“Okay.” You relent. “Just for a bit.” 

He smiles. 

“Oh, and call me Suguru from now on.” He suggests. “I think we’re close enough to drop the formalities, right?” 

Suguru manages to get you to sit at the dining table. It was already set for two. A little while later, he comes back with two plates and a bottle of wine. 

The food smelled delicious, but it tasted like ash in your mouth. You couldn’t find it within yourself to enjoy it. Betrayal made everything taste like nothing. 

You don’t consider yourself a drinker, but Geto manages to refill your glass twice throughout the night. 

Eventually, Suguru acknowledges the elephant in the room. 

“Did you two fight?” 

That actually made you laugh. It’s harsh and bitter. You gulp down the last of your wine. 

“No,” you say, “I just didn’t fall to her feet this one time.”

That’s all you were for her. Not a friend. Not a companion. You were just some pet she could keep at her side. Bark when she said bark. Sit when she said sit. Roll over when she said. She was treating you like a dog who forgot a trick or two. You feel so pathetic. 

You’re so upset, you have to stand up. Suguru only watches you pace back and forth. 

“I’ve put up with her bullshit for months, y’know?” You don’t think you’re talking to him at all. You’re just ranting. “Whatever she wanted, I got her. I’ve spent hundreds of hours planning her perfect day with her. And yet, the one time I give an opinion, she immediately blows up at me and–and says all this awful shit, and I have to forgive her.” 

Suguru rises with you, blocking your path. You look up at him. He’s blurry from all the tears in your eyes. 

“She’s stressed with the wedding,” he tries to console. “I’m sure she isn’t trying to do any harm.”

You shake your head. Somehow, you find yourself sitting on the sofa. Suguru’s joined you. You can still taste the wine on your tongue. You’re drunk. You’re erratic. You’ve stopped giving a fuck. 

“What about the stress she’s putting me under?” You argue back. “I tried to be a good friend to her, and she constantly treats me like garbage. And it’s all because I don’t have a soulmate? When has that ever mattered for her?” 

Unmei had always protected you from anyone who mocked you for being incomplete. Other. She was your shield. 

You can still remember her voice ringing through your head. The hatred. You’ve always been jealous of me, and I’m so sick of doing charity work. 

You bury your face in your hands. 

“All I ever wanted to do was be there for her.” You sob into your fingers. “Why is she shutting me out like this?” 

You wanted to go back to how things were months ago. Back when you had someone so close, it felt like having a sister. Back before–

Suguru gathers your limp form in his arms. The scent of sandalwood and cinnamon overwhelms your senses. 

“You poor thing,” he coos, and you melt into his calming words because you’ve never felt more alone in your life. “It must have been so very hard on you.” 

You don’t know how long you sit there, snuggled into his chest, crying your heart out. It feels like minutes pass before your tears stop flowing, and your breathing slows down. 

He pulls you away from his chest. You follow. You’re still heartbroken, but now you’re embarrassed for crying on your best friend’s fiancé’s shoulder. You look up, opening your mouth to apologize. 

Suguru’s lips meet yours. 

It’s barely a brush. You feel his fingers caress your cheek before you pull back. 

“What are you–” your voice dies in your throat “What–” 

“You want to feel better, don’t you?” He asks, voice terrifyingly gentle. “I can help with that.” 

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish. When he tries to touch you again, you jump up. 

“I didn’t…I never…” Your mind is spinning. You don’t know what to say. 

“She’s your soulmate.” It’s the only thing you can think to say. “How–how could you think of doing that to your…”

Suguru tilts his head. 

“We both know how stubborn she can get.” He speaks slowly, as if he were speaking to a child. “Look at how much you do for her. You are constantly bending over backwards. Aren’t you tired of doing all this charity work? Don’t you want someone else to take care of you for a change?” 

Something clicks in your mind. 

Charity Work. Unmei’s words, but that didn’t sound like her at all. 

It sounded more like something Geto Suguru would say. 

“It’s you.” Something cold splashes across your spine. “You’ve been putting a wedge between Unmei and me for months.” 

He’s tried separating you from her as soon as he walked into Unmei’s life. All this time, he was speaking cruelties into her ear about you, manipulating her, turning her against you. 

And Unmei fell for it because she thought her soulmate could never hurt her. 

Suguru stands up. His smile is gone. You’ve never seen him like this before. You’ve seen him upset, bored, amused. This is different. 

Every emotion on his face is gone. It’s like he’s stone. 

He calls your name. It’s a warning. You don’t heed it. 

“No, no,” you hiss out, “I don’t know what sick game you’re playing, but I’d never break her heart like this, no matter how angry I am at her. I’m not like you.” 

You start for the door. You needed to find Unmei. Fuck the petty fight. Fuck everything. You needed to find her and explain everything to her so that things could return to normal. 

You never make it to the door. 

There’s a harsh grip on your wrist. Before you can even struggle, you’re flung back against the couch. You collapse on top of the stiff pillows. 

Suguru’s quick to cage you in. Within moments, he’s trapped you underneath him. A hand reaches up to trap both of your wrists. His body is right in between your legs, pressing himself right up to you. 

You kick. You scream. A hand clamps down on your mouth. 

Suguru waits patiently as your rebellion tapers out. You lie underneath him, panting and utterly defeated. 

A tear trickles down your cheek. He wipes it away, adoration at his fingertips. It makes you sick. 

“I really wanted our first time to be romantic.” He sighs, genuinely sounding disappointed. “I spent the entire day planning our little date. And then you had to get all hysterical.” He clicks his tongue. 

“I think you’re spending a bit too much time with my fiancé, Dear.” 

You flinch at his words. He grins. 

“At the same time, I can’t say I’m not happy with how the night ended.” He releases your mouth. You prepare to yell again. “You can scream if you want to, dear. I’m sure you’d like the whole floor coming by to watch me fuck you. I don’t mind an audience.” 

Horror rushes down your body. 

“What do you mean?” Suguru says nothing, leaning back to release his tie. “Geto-Suguru,” you beg. “You can’t really mean that. You can’t do this. What about Unmei? What about your soulmate?” 

“I thought I told you this already.” He wraps the tie securely around your wrist before considering you. 

“Soulmates are paths, guiding us to our true destination.” 

He presses his forehead to yours. You lay there, utterly helpless, staring into his purple eyes. 

“Through her, I was able to find my true other half.” He confesses. “Someone that perfectly fits me.” 

If he were another man, if he had another name, you might have fallen in love right there. 

But this man has your friend’s name written on his wrist, and it makes you want to vanish into the Earth. 

He rises back up with a grin. 

“What can I say? I’m a romantic at heart.” 

You’re shaking your head as he reaches down for your shirt. It’s pulled off of you within moments, revealing your bare flesh. Your skin trembles against his fingers as he explores the skin on your stomach, pushing his hand up until it reaches the bottom of your bra. 

Your tits are exposed to the cold air as he grabs them. Curious. Exploring. Nausea builds in your stomach. 

“You should relax, love.” He urges as his hand travels down. “You could make yourself sick from all that crying.” 

He acts as if he cares for you, even when you know he couldn’t care less. You can feel his heat pressing up against your thigh. It’s a blunt foreshadowing of his true desires. 

The silk against your wrists tightens every time you move. The wine isn’t helping either. You feel sluggish, almost feverish. You lie there, completely limp, watching as he picks at your pants. They don’t have much of a fight before he’s dragging them off your body completely, leaving you with just your cotton panties. 

The cold settles on your bare thighs. A large hand settles on your upper leg. He squeezes. You jolt. 

Suguru’s kissing you again. It’s harsher than the first time. More teeth, like he intends to swallow you whole. He squeezes your chin, keeping you in place so he can continue to devour you. For a moment, you debate biting his tongue off, before you quickly bat it away. The thought of him getting violent, even worse, terrifies you. 

But how could he get worse? 

He pulls away with a satisfied sigh. The hand on your thigh lifts to your clothed slit. You don’t realize you’re wet until his fingers slip underneath your panties. 

There’s a slight hitch in his breathing. 

“Is this for me?” You can practically taste the victory in his voice. “How sweet.” 

A few moments later, your panties are torn away, too. Your legs are tangled with the thin cloth, leaving you utterly defenseless as he spreads your thighs apart. 

“No,” you’re telling him. “Don’t–No, no–” 

He hushes you with a quiet whisper, and then his mouth is on your pussy. 

Your thighs immediately fall onto his shoulders as he ate you out. There was a rhythm to it. His tongue lapped at your slit before curling at your clit. Immediately, you reacted. Your thighs flexed, threatening to clamp over his head. Something hot coiled in your belly as he sucked on your pussy. 

Your protests eventually gave way to sharp gasps and whines as he continued to tongue-fuck you. You think you’re still crying, but its interrupted by another toe-curling mewl. You don’t have the ability to hold them in. They force themselves past your lips and into the frigid air. You could feel Suguru smile against your clit. You’re so wet you’re probably dripping all over the couch, but you think Suguru couldn’t care less. 

He lifts you up by the hips. You let out a yelp as he crams his tongue into your hole, drinking the entirety of you. 

“That’s it.” His voice is muffled by your pussy.  It’s slurred. Drunk. “Lemme’ hear you.” 

You obey, helpless to do anything else. Your mind is swirling with self-hatred as you feel yourself approaching the edge. You can’t do anything to stop it. Your hips move by themselves. Your pussy clenches. 

Your orgasm was a tiny hitch before you completely came apart. Suguru keeps you there, latched onto your clit like a man starved, until you finally come down from your high. 

You lay there, panting, completely spent. Suguru rises from his spot in between your legs. He wipes at his face, never taking his eyes off of you. 

The kiss he gives you is terrifyingly soft. Almost sweet. You can taste yourself on his tongue. He gently holds your chin like you’re the most delicate thing in the world. 

If you closed your eyes, you could pretend it’s anyone else. Not Suguru. Not your friend’s fiancé. Not her soulmate. 

But Suguru doesn’t care about you enough to let you have that fantasy. 

“Look at me.” 

His voice is too soft to be demanding, but the order is clear from his tone. 

Slowly, your eyes drift back open. 

Suguru stands over you as if this were his rightful place. You can see his cock, fully unfurled from his pants. The mushroom tip has a bead of glistening, white pre-cum as he slowly aligns it to your battered pussy. 

You think the worst part is his eyes. 

Soft. Gentle. He stares at you the way no one else has. 

Love. 

You want to cry again, but you think you’ve run out of tears. 

His nonchalant demeanor is cracked. His pupils are flared with lust. He grunts when he slides his swollen tip across your folds. Pussy juice is smeared all over his cock as he does it again and again. 

“I’ve waited so long for this.” He sighs, and you don’t think he’s talking to you. “No one is taking this away from me.” 

Not even you. 

You should be grateful he cares enough to be gentle. His cock is huge, big enough to split you at the seams if he wanted to. You still he lowers himself into your hole. Immediately, your walls flex, squeezing his cock. 

Suguru growls and bits his lip. It’s clear whatever control he has left, he’s only holding it by a hair. 

It’s almost a relief when he fully sheathes himself inside you. He nearly collapses, face ducking into the crook of your neck. Your toes curl when he hits a spongy spot inside of you that nearly makes you see stars. 

“Fuck.” He hisses, voice sharp. “That’s it. That’s it. Just take it.” 

It’s an unsteady pace. Brutal, almost mind-breaking as he continues to fuck himself into you. You can hear his ragged breathing in your ear as he drives himself deeper and deeper into your cunt. You can barely keep up with the motions. Your thighs shake with the momentum. 

You think you’re saying something, and then your mind is wiped clean with another thrust. It’s an endless cycle of torturous pleasure. 

“Suguru–I–I can’t.” You’re blabbering. “I can’t, I just can’t–” 

“You can.” He urges back, fingers reaching down to rub your clit. You arch, back lifting up from the pillows. “I know you can, darling. Look at that. Look at you. Look at how well you take me.” 

“This was how it was always meant to be.” You can’t decipher the tone of his words. Your mind is too preoccupied with the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock. “You were practically made for me.” A broken wail passes out from your lips. He laughs. 

At this point, you think he’s too far gone to even know what he’s saying. 

“I love you so much, darling.” He leans back into your neck, biting down on the flesh. “No one can take you away from me. You are all for me.” 

At least, you hope that’s the case. You can’t bear to think his words have a semblance of intent. 

Your mind goes white as you cum on his cock. Your eyes roll back, your back arches up like a bitch in heat as you fall off the edge. Your pussy milks him, clamping down hard as you ride your high. 

There’s a moan in your ear before something hot pumps into your pussy, painting your insides with white. There’s so much, even with his dick still plugging your cunt, some still manages to leak out, dripping down your ass. 

He takes a shaky breath, and then he’s kissing you again. That same delicate touch he loves to take after he breaks you. You can taste the festering love through his lips and tongue. You let him, too exhausted to fight back. 

You think he’s saying something. You can’t hear him over the throbbing in your head. The tone he uses is soft as lips press against your temple. 

And then, his cock slips out of your ragged cunt before slamming back in all over again. 

❤︎

Mei<3 Missed Call(23)

‘Where are you’ 

‘Where are you’ 

‘Please dont do this to me’ 

‘I’m begging you’ 

‘I love you so much’

‘I’m sorry for everything I’ve done’ 

‘Plase don’t do this to me’

‘He’s my soulmate, why would you take him from me’ 

‘Please don’t do this to me’

…

‘You’re just a selfish slut. Take him then. See if I care.’ 

Ever since you woke up, all you could do was stare at Unmei’s texts. You’ve read them over and over. 

The words never change. Each line cuts you deeper than before.

You’re no longer on the sofa. Sometime last night, Suguru must have moved you. You sit up on a luxurious king-sized bed with silk sheets. Your body is aching and sore. There are marks all over your body. 

The man who made them sleeps peacefully right next to you. 

You’re still naked. It hurts to move. All what you can do is read Unmei’s texts over and over as you wipe away the sharp tears trickling down your cheek. 

The curtains of Suguru’s bedroom are open. It’s early morning. The beginnings of a sunrise creep over the horizon. Buildings are obscured by a light fog, and you can barely make out the outline of the city. The sky is illuminated with pinks and light oranges. It’s the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen. 

You don’t notice he’s awake until Suguru’s muscled chest presses against your back. You flinch as his head settles into the crook of your neck. He inhales your scent. 

“I told you, didn’t I?” He murmurs against your skin. “It’s a beautiful view. You’ll get to see this every day, from now on.” 

You don’t bother batting him away. You just stare down at your phone. There’s no new message from Unmei. She blocked you hours ago. 

Fingers pluck your phone from your loose grip. Suguru adjusts himself, wrapping an arm around your waist as he sifts through her panicked messages. He clicks his tongue. 

“Never expected anything more from her.” He sighs before he tosses the phone in the mess of blankets. He kisses your neck. “She’ll probably come by today. Hopefully, she’ll move out without much of an issue.” He remarks casually. Dully. Complete disinterest. 

Why? You want to ask him. Why you? Why would he–why would anyone–hate you enough to do this? 

But then, you remember the look of love he gave you as he rammed his cock deeper. You don’t know how you’d be able to hold yourself together if you saw that again. 

For the sake of your sanity, you ask: 

“What did you tell her?” 

Suguru’s fingers curl around your stomach. You can hear the slightest hint of irritation in his breath. 

“Nothing.” He eventually confesses. You want to yell at him, call him a liar. You don’t get the chance. 

“She must have felt the bond sever.” 

You notice it, just then. 

The wrappings on his wrist. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you grab at it. Suguru lets you unravel his work, silently watching each layer of gauze drop away. 

It’s ugly. The skin is raised and irritated. It will probably leave behind a scar. 

Not a single trace of Unmei’s name is left on Suguru’s skin. 

You want to scream, but your voice is frozen in your throat. 

There’s another kiss on your cheek. Suguru grins. 

“See?” He tells you adoringly, lovingly. 

With near identical duster coats and bandanas tied across their faces, you couldn't tell them apart.

They were closing in on you, a little at a time. You tried to fight, to pull away when one of them grabbed you. But they were dust bitten outlaws and you were just a rancher's daughter. It wasn't even a struggle.

The tallest one slammed you down on the kitchen table, his fingers digging into your shoulders and his belt buckle grinding against your ass.

Your mama's good milk jug tumbled off and shattered on the floor. That was what you focused on as they tied your hands behind your back and gagged you. The shards of blue and white ceramic in the puddle of milk.

Not their hands running over your hips, not their laughter. Just the milk and your ma's favourite jug all in pieces.

You could still hear your mother screaming for you when they pulled you outside. That was what hurt the most about that entire awful day. Your mama, pleading and begging and panicking and unable to save you.

Their horses were waiting, another outlaw standing guard with his rifle out.

"Boss, let her ride with me."

"With you? Ain't no way in hell my girl is riding with you."

"Your girl? She ain't yours. Boss, tell 'em she ain't his."

"Runnin' to the boss again? Yellow belly."

It was the tall one who settled the argument. His voice wasn't as rough as the others, but that didn't put you at ease in the slightest.

"She's riding with me."

He still had one hand curled around your upper arm and he pulled you towards his mustang. You dug your heels in as hard as you could, pulled back with all your weight. It just made him sigh.

"Ain't even started yet, and she's already being difficult?"

The outlaw that spoke was already on his stallion. All you could see of his face above the bandana was a pair of blue eyes, lined at the corners. The boss maybe?

"Just some...growing pains. She'll settle down soon enough."

The tall one leaned down and hoisted you over his shoulder. You squirmed and tried to kick your way free, but he kept one arm tight around your knees.

You thought all your panicking would frighten the horses, but no such luck. He tossed you across his saddle and climbed up behind you. The saddle horn dug into your belly until he pulled you into a proper seat, one arm curling around your waist. You could feel his chest against your back, every inch of it firm, hard earned muscle.

He dropped his head and spoke directly into your ear.

"No trying to jump off the horse. No trying to run away. I'm in charge of you until we get back and I won't have you hurt on my watch."

Your only response was to try and smash your head back into his nose. He straightened up just in time and all you managed to do was hurt your own neck.

He sighed again, and spurred his horse forward.

"Well, I suppose it this was easy, it wouldn't be nearly as fun."

The outlaws formed a loose ring around you as you rode. You tried to twist and look back, but your captor was holding you too tight. You didn't even get to see your home shrink into the horizon. Didn't even get that one small goodbye.

They rode for at least two hours, the sun climbing down from its zenith as they took you across rivers and down secret little paths. You knew your ranch and the area around it like the back of your hand, but even you were well and truly lost when you finally arrived.

It was a ranch, but there weren't any cows in the fields or corn growing in neat rows. The house was a big, whitewashed thing. Pretty once, but fallen into disrepair. Just a hideout. Not a place they stayed at for more than a few months.

The blue eyed one pulled you off the horse without breaking a sweat.

You could feel their eyes on you again. God, how many were there? Five? Six?

"You goin' first boss?"

The man looked down at you. He had a hand around your upper arm, but his grip was more firm than rough.

"I reckon I should. Can't trust you lot to be gentle or slow enough."

That made some of them jeer and complain.

"I'll be real sweet, boss. I promise!"

"We can be nice too. Really."

The man snorted. "Nice? I ain't never seen you dogs be nice 'bout nothing. I'll break our filly in. You lot just be patient and don't bother us none."

What were they talking about? You didn't have time to puzzle it out before the boss started pulling you toward the house. Seeing that building looming closer made you start fighting all over again, biting down on your gag and pulling back as much as you could. Like a mustang digging it's feet in.

It didn't last long. The boss leveled a look at you, met your eyes straight on.

"You really gonna be difficult with me, girl?"

Oh, what frightening eyes he had. Bright and clever, a blue so striking you could feel it right through your soul. A mountain lion would have eyes softer than his.

You stopped resisting him. Let him pull you along besides him. What else could you do? He had a gun on his back and a knife in his boot and years of experience wrangling stubborn animals. And you were just a girl out of her depth and far from home.

You didn't see it, but the outlaws looked at each other, impressed. Only the boss could tame a filly with a single look.

The house was much cooler than outside, but the boss didn't give you any time to examine it. Just guided you up the stairs and into a large bedroom. White curtains stirred in the breeze, the bedding neat and clean.

He locked the door behind you. A quiet click that made your heart race.

You jumped when his hands came to rest on your shoulders. You could hear the other outlaws outside, the clink of harnesses and buckles as they let the horses out to pasture.

His hands moved from your shoulders to your upper arms, squeezed.

"Do you know why we took you?"

You shook your head. Ransom, maybe? But your pa was just a run of the mill rancher. Surely there were better targets for quick cash than you.

The outlaw laughed quietly, just a soft breath of amusement.

"Not the faintest clue, huh?"

He let go of you and you heard the soft rustle of material as he shrugged out of his duster.

He turned you around and you finally got to see his face. He'd taken off his Stetson and bandana too, and the man looking back at you was a hardened outlaw in every way. He was a lot older than you, with thick blonde hair going to grey at the edges. Handsome, with a strong jaw covered in light stubble. Grizzled, but muscular and lean for his age.

There was a small, amused smile on his lips.

He kept his hands on your arms and guided you backwards, until your back hit the wall.

"You wanna take a guess? Why'd we ride all the way out to town to steal you?"

Whatever you said was muffled by your gag. He clicked his tongue.

"You're gonna have to use your worlds, darlin'."

He ran his thumb across your cheek, across the gag. "Or maybe not. I like you just like this too."

He was close. Closer than any man had ever been. It was terrifying. Tears spilled down your cheeks, running across your gag and soaking in.

He sighed, caught one on his thumb.

"None of that now girl. I ain't gonna be rough with you. And in time, I reckon you'll come to like it."

Your dress was buttoned at the front, all the way to your neck. He grabbed both sides of your collar and ripped.

You tried to jerk away from him, but he was too close and the only way out was blocked by the wall. Buttons scattered across the room with little plinks.

The only thing keeping your dress on was the fact that your hands were tied behind your back. But the outlaw didn't let that stop him for long.

He leaned down and pulled a knife from his boot.

"Don't squirm 'round and I won't cut you, alright?"

Sound advice, but not something you were about to listen to. You thrashed in his grip, twisting as much as you could. You didn't want that thing anywhere near you.

He grabbed your hair, and yanked your head backwards. You screamed into your gag, your whole scalp aching.

You might have continued fighting, but that's when you felt the cool metal of his knife at your throat. Not the sharp edge, but still enough of a reminder to keep you still.

"Good. Not so hard, is it?"

The knife moved away from your neck and to your sleeve. He slipped the blade between your skin and the fabric and yanked upwards.

Your sleeve tore with an ugly ripping sound, all the way down to the wrist. You whined into your gag, but he ignored you and repeated it on the other side.

He was breathing heavier now, even though the work of keeping you still couldn't have been much of a challenge for a man as strong as him. He put the handle of his knife in his mouth and used both hands to pull your dress off you. It pooled at your ankles, ruined.

You still had your chemise, but the thin white fabric was almost as bad as being naked. Your nipples poked through and he narrowed in on them, one hand coming up to cup your breast. His teeth were biting into the handle of his knife, hard enough to leave indents in the wood. Like a man struggling to control himself. He breathed out slowly, just feeling the weight of your tits in his palms.

You were crying so hard you almost couldn't see his face. A mixture of pity and want.

He kneeled down to put his knife away and stayed on his knees, hands coming to your hips. He looked up at you, blue eyes bright with something you didn't yet know how to recognise. Lust. Want.

His thumbs stroked circles into your skin, your chemise the only barrier between you and him.

"If I was a better man, I'd almost be sorry about this."

He grabbed your leg and hooked your thigh over his shoulder. You almost stumbled, forced to keep your back against the wall if you didn't want to loose your balance.

His fingers gathered your chemise from the hem up, pinning it at your waist with his palms. You were wearing stockings, simple white ones that reached your mid thigh, and plain lace garters.

All in all, it was a damn nice framing for your bare cunt.

God, he could practically feel his mouth watering.

He didn't give you any warning. Just slipped his tongue between your lips. Hot, wet, like nothing you'd ever felt. You tried to squirm away, practically tried to climb up the wall to get away from him. But he had you trapped, one massive palm on your hip and the other on your thigh.

He found your hole real easy. Slipped his tongue all the way in, the bridge of his nose grinding into your clit. You whined at him to stop it, to please just let you go, but with the gag, all he heard was a pretty little sound that made him keep going.

He sucked on your clit, his jawline standing out in sharp relief. His stubble scraped your thighs. So masculine, so unbearably, overwhelmingly manly.

With the way he held you still, you couldn't do anything except take it. Feel even inch of his tongue, feel his hot breath on your skin, feel his nails scraping your thigh. You wanted to hate it. You wanted to be disgusted by it.

But oh, it felt good.

Sometimes, when the neighbour's handsome son came over, you'd feel a little throbbing ache between your legs. This was exactly like that, cranked up to a thousand.

You whined again, and he must have been the Devil's own son, because he just doubled down. Swirled the flat of his tongue across your whole clit and then ran it down all the way to you ass.

You thighs were shaking, and the pit of your stomach felt tight with something your couldn't explain.

"That's my girl." He sounded pleased, smug. Practically cooing at you in his rough baritone. "Feels real good, don't it?"

If he didn't break soon, you felt like your whole body would. Something inside you was building, getting closer to the edge. And you were terrified of it. You breath was coming hard and fast.

Mercifully, he pulled away. Kissed the triangle of your pussy and then your inner thigh. You could feel his teeth against your skin when he smiled.

"Not yet. I ain't nearly close to done with you."

He stood and you weren't sure whether to be thankful or upset. You felt woozy, hot. Like heat stroke, or like getting drunk.

His mouth and chin glistened. He rubbed it dry on his palm, smirking all the while.

"I bet you feel real empty inside, huh sweetheart?"

You nodded your head, not sure where he was going with this. You did feel empty. There was a hot, throbbing itch in your stomach that you had no idea how to scratch.

"Aww, poor thing. I can take care of that for you."

His hands moved to his belt, blue eyes pinning you to the wall. When he smiled, there were lines around his eyes. They should have been comforting, a mark of someone who laughed often and laughed easy. They weren't.

You shook your head, pleading with your eyes. The tears were starting to come again, thick and fast. For a second or two, with his tongue deep in your core, you'd forgotten that he'd want something in exchange.

His eyes hardened, his smile not moving an inch.

"I will take care of it, girl. You can cry if you want, but we've come too far to stop now."

He grabbed your thigh and pulled your leg up, forced you back against the wall. Your whole cunt was wet and glistening with his spit.

Something hot and hard rubbed between your pussy lips. You shuddered, tried to move away. His other arm came around your waist and he pulled you against his chest. The smell of him was overwhelming - gunpowder and leather and whiskey. He smelled like a man. He smelled like your ruin.

Your forehead fell against his collarbone, and his chin came to rest on the crown of your head. The same way a father might hold his daughter after a nightmare.

But there was nothing fatherly about the cock nudging at your entrance.

"Shhh, you're okay. It ain't gonna hurt."

Liar. Terrible, heartless liar.

He pushed in and it felt like your whole body was splitting apart. It burned.

You sobbed into his chest, not entirely sure what was happening to you. This was the sort of thing that was only whispered about. The sort of thing that was kept vague for good, obedient girls until their wedding nights. The only thing you knew for a fact was that it hurt and you wanted it to stop.

He groaned, pressed a kiss against your hair.

"Sweet little thing, ain't ya? Gonna be good 'fer me? Gonna take it nice and deep?"

You couldn't answer. There was only the stretch of his cock inside you and the oppressive tightness of his arms.

He set a slow, drawn out pace. Cock pulling all the way out to the tip and then sliding right back in. You could feel every inch.

Not gentle, but not needlessly mean either. You were shivering in his arms, pussy fluttering like a heartbeat around him.

No one but him knew how fucking difficult it was to keep so slow. Tight, tiny little thing bleeding and crying all over him. Any red blooded man would want to rut into you like a stallion. See just how many tears he could wring out of you.

It was only experience and determination that held him back. If he was a younger man...

It was the right decision to have you first. Not even his second in command - that tall bastard with all the self control in the world - could have managed this.

He huffed out a laugh.

"You're little too young for me, doll. Reckon I could be your father."

He slid back inside you, grinding against your clit in a way that made you whimper.

"Shitty fucking father though. To be doing this to my little girl."

He let go of waist and cupped your jaw in his palm. Tilted your head back, his nose and lips skimming up your neck. You smelled so fucking good. Nothing in this world was as sweet as a needy, crying girl.

"You gonna call me daddy, little girl? Gonna beg me to be nice and let you go?"

You whimpered, a pathetic little sound through the gag. It only made him smile against your neck.

"Thaaat's it. Just take it. Let me break you in. Gonna be all stretched out and sweet when I'm done with you, yeah?"

He sucked at your neck, at the delicate spot where your shoulder started to slope away. A little immature maybe, to want to mark you up like an animal, but wasn't he being plenty mature already? Wasn't he being just saintly in his patience?

"Fuck, you're getting close, ain'tcha? Can feel you gettin' all tight."

He pulled back to look into your eyes, overflowing with tears and just so damn scared.

"You ain't got no idea what's 'bout to happen, do ya?"

He pulled almost all the way out, and then slammed back in, hard. Your tits jumped and your eyes fluttered shut.

"Just relax and let it happen. It's gonna feel reeaal good."

You tilted your head back and he followed you, lips right back at your throat.

He picked up the pace, trying not to be too rough and slowly failing. The closer he got to his own end, the less important kindness seemed. It wasn't long 'fore he was slamming into you so hard he could feel your tits bouncing. His breath was coming fast, each exhale almost a growl.

"Take it, just like that. C'mon doll, just let me fuck you. Just let me make you mine."

You bit down on your gag and came. Your whole body shook, your nails digging into your palms. You didn't now what he'd done to you, but you couldn't stop it. Your pussy was a clenching, sensitive mess. You felt light headed enough to faint. And the only sound and thought in your head was his voice, right in your ear and rough with barely held back want.

"That's my girl. My good fucking girl."

A good man might have slowed down then. Might have realised just how sensitive you were. He didn't. He kept pistoning his cock into you, fucked you through your orgasm.

You writhed on his dick, in pain and overwhelmed and more scared than you'd ever been. And all of it just served to make him harder, to bring him closer. Even he had to admit he was a bastard for enjoying it so much. He didn't deserve something so sweet. All he deserved in life was a short dance with a noose. But who gave a fuck about that? He'd taken you, he'd stolen you, and like any good thief, he was going to enjoy you.

You felt it when he came. His cock pulsed and twitched inside you, and something hot dripped down your thigh.

He pressed his forehead against yours, hands so tight on you that you felt bruised.

He came down slowly. Kept you plugged up with his cock while he softened. The only sound in the room was his harsh breathing. You couldn't even cry anymore. All you wanted was to close your eyes and sleep and make the pain disappear.

He pulled back and tilted your chin up.

"Look at me."

You opened your eyes, tears still caught in your lashes.

"There she is. Ain't so bad, is it?"

All you could do was sniffle and hope he was bored of you.

He let you down carefully. You weren't steady on your feet at all.

"I've had a lot of blood on my cock over the years, darlin', but I reckon yours is the finest."

He kissed you. You were still gagged, so it was less a kiss and more so his lips pressing against yours.

When he finally stepped away from you, you almost wanted him back. You sank down to your knees, too dizzy to stand.

"Poor thing. Too much to handle, doll?"

He ran his fingers through your hair.

"You did so good, princess. Now just stay so sweet, and the rest of this day will go a hell of a lot easier for you."

You were too out of it to figure out what he meant. You closed your eyes and heard his spurs jingling as he walked away. The door creaked open and then he was gone.

You might have tried to run for it, but you ached so bad that even the thought of it was painful. Your hands were still tied as tight as they were before.

You didn't notice the footsteps or the voices until they were right outside the door.

"So much for bein' nice. Boss left her a right mess."

"Better than you woulda done. Least she's still in one piece."

They came to stand in front of you, two men with their bandanas pulled down around their throats.

You recognised their voices. These two were the most quarrelsome of the bunch. They still had their gun belts on, both of them carrying revolvers. Gunslingers then. Every gang had them.

"Look at her already on her knees 'fer us."

"Why you cryin' pretty girl? Was the boss too mean with ya?"

You looked up slowly. Boots first - silver spurs, well worn leather. Then their belts. And finally, their faces.

One was dark skinned, a crescent scar on his cheek and his hair cropped short. He rubbed his jaw as he looked at you, a half smile showing pearly white teeth.

"Oh, would ya look at those eyes? A man could drown in 'em."

The other was tanned golden with the sun, his eyes a pale green. He was still wearing his Stetson, and his dark hair was long enough to brush his shoulders.

"Boss must be getting old. He left some of her clothes on."

That made the dark one laugh. "Nah, I reckon it's meant to be a treat just 'fer us. Like unwrapping a present on Christmas mornin'."

The green eyed one squated down in front on you and grabbed your jaw. His hands were rough from labour, and his callouses scraped your skin. Whatever he saw in your eyes made him smile, but it didn't have a lick of kindness in it.

"Look at that...Boss really did break you in, didn't he filly?"

He stood and pulled you up with him, hand still clutching your jaw.

"I reckon she's gonna be real sweet to us. Gonna be all nice and obedient."

The other one came to stand behind you, his fingertips brushing the nape of your neck as he moved your hair out of the way.

"That right, filly? You gonna be all sweet?"

The green eyed one nodded your head for you. His eyes had a certain cruelty to them that made you want to step away. He seemed the type to use spurs and whips both, and to use them often.

He let go of your jaw and focused on the rest of you. And oh, what a lovely sight you were. All tied up and crying, your tits just visible through your chemise. A little virgin about to loose the rest of your innocence to his teeth. A fucking vision, a fucking dream.

He pinched one of your nipples and rolled it between his fingers. Your thin chemise wasn't any protection at all.

"Sensitive, ain'tcha?"

You whined. Not sure whether to pull away or step closer.

The gunslinger behind you wasn't in the mood to be left out. As his partner tugged and played with your nipples, his hands came to rest on your waist. And what huge hands they were. You could feel the heat of him even through your clothes.

He dropped his head to the nape of your neck and inhaled, his nose buried in your hair.

When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble.

"What do you want?"

The green eyed one looked you up and down, weighing his options. Finally, he smiled.

"I'll take her mouth."

Your whole body went cold. He couldn't mean...

"Hmm. That's fine with me." His hands dropped from your waist to your ass, squeezing. "I want to have her from the back anyway."

They must have been in perfect sync with each other. The one in front of you stood aside and the one behind you pushed you towards the bed. You stumbled, landed on the duvet chin first, your teeth slamming together despite the gag.

You didn't have time to push yourself up before they were tearing your chemise off. The thin straps ripped and your last bit of modesty floated to the floor in a tattered white heap. You were left in just your stockings.

The dark one pulled you up by your hips, one hand grabbing the rope around your wrists to keep you steady.

Smack.

Your whole body jerked forward, your ass cheek stinging.

One of them laughed, mocking. "Bet that'll leave a mark."

The dark one ran his palm over the welt, smiling though you couldn't see it.

"We promised the boss we would be nice, remember?"

The green eyed one circled the bed. You could feel his eyes on you, drinking in your naked skin, your stockings, the tears soaking your gag.

His hands were on his belt. Not undoing it yet, just watching you.

"Y'know, I give that tall bastard a lot of shit, but even I gotta say he was right this time. She's a real cute thing."

The man behind you was still stroking your ass, squeezing and watching your flesh give under his fingers. So soft, so fucking pliable.

He hummed quietly, more concerned with you than with his partner. He slipped his thumb down between your cheeks, catching on your asshole for a second. That sent a jolt of panic through you. They wouldn't...

He must have felt you moving, because he sighed and let his fingers continue downwards. Smearing cum and blood across your pussy lips.

"Not today," he said, soft enough for just you to hear. "Boss wouldn't like that."

That wasn't reassuring to hear. It meant that he still wanted it. Wanted to fuck your virgin ass without any care for the pain, for the hurt. The thing stopping him wasn't empathy, but obedience.

He rubbed tight, harsh circles into your clit. You were still sensitive and you pleaded into your gag, asking him to be just a bit more gentle. Either he couldn't understand you or didn't bother to even hear you, because he carried on, fingerpads rough as sandpaper.

The green eyed one noticed though. He seemed to notice just about everything.

"Want me to take that gag off sweetheart?"

You nodded your head frantically. The sides of your lips felt raw and you couldn't stand the taste of it.

He kneeled with one leg on the bed and undid the material. When he pulled it away, thin lines of spit followed.

You sucked in a lungful of air, coughing. He gathered your hair out of your face, held it all in a loose fist at the back of your head.

"All better?"

Maybe you were wrong about him. Maybe he wasn't so bad.

"...yes." You swallowed, your voice still hoarse. "Thank you."

He tilted his head, smirking.

"So polite. Boss really did a number on ya, huh? Or are ya just a well bred little lady?"

You didn't get a chance to answer, because the other gunslinger ground his palm against your cunt. You yelped and jerked forward on instinct.

The green eyed one tightened his hold on your hair.

"None of that. You can take it."

"I can't! It hurts."

His free hand tugged at his belt, pulling it free of the belt loops. You blanched. What the hell did he need that for?

"Ain't even been a minute and you're already whining? C'mon pretty, there's better things to do with your mouth than that."

He let go of your hair long enough to loop the belt around your neck, the leather wrapped around his fist. He tugged and it tightened, metal buckle pressing icy cold against your skin.

He pulled upwards, forced you to look at him. His cat eyes were mean, amused at seeing you leashed.

"You even think 'bout usin' your teeth and I'll pull this so tight you won't even be able to think 'bout breathing. Got it?"

What was he talking about? Your teeth?

Your answer came soon enough. With his belt off, it was real easy for him to take his cock out. He sighed, relieved to have it free.

The only thing keeping you in place was the belt around your neck. Even still, you pulled backwards until you couldn't go any further.

It was huge.

Thick, with veins running all the way to the tip. That was supposed to fit inside of you? You'd never seen a man's cock before. Even when the boss fucked you, you'd only felt it. No fucking wonder it hurt so bad, if they were all this size.

It was horrifying, and still you couldn't look away.

"Ain't it a sight?"

He grabbed it with his free hand and yanked your head down with the belt, until the tip brushed your lips.

"Come have a closer look."

Maybe if your hands were free, you'd be able to pull away. But as it was, you were staying balanced only because of his grip on the belt and his partner's grip on your arms.

He rubbed the tip across your lips, leaving behind a sticky coating of precum.

"Don't be shy," he purred, "Give it a little kiss."

The belt tightened until you listened. You pecked the side of it, where it wasn't so gross and sticky.

"Atta girl. Now open wide."

You desperately didn't want to. He tasted of salt, and his cock was so hard that you couldn't even imagine how it would fit.

You didn't want to, but what choice did you have?

You opened your mouth and he pushed himself past your lips with a groan. The tip scraped against your tongue, soft as velvet and tasting like the sea.

He let go of his dick and tangled his hand in your hair, pushing your head lower. Until the tip brushed the back of your throat. You gagged, shivering all around him.

"God, your mouth is fucking heaven sent."

He pulled out slowly, until it was just the tip sitting in your mouth.

"Are you gonna join me or what?"

The other gunslinger snorted.

"Fucking impatient. You gotta treat a lady gentle on her first time."

You heard the rustle of clothing behind you, and the hand that was playing with your cunt came to rest on your hip, fingers digging into the flesh for a good grip.

Your cunt felt cold without his touch, but his fingers were quickly replaced with his cock. The head nudged at your entrance, hot enough that you could practically feel it radiating. The leaking pre mixed with the sticky come already on your lips, thin strands of white pulling and breaking as he settled himself against you.

You wanted to say something, anything, to make them stop, but the gunslinger still had his dick in your mouth.

"Hmmm. Nice and warm and I ain't even pushed inside yet."

"Ain't she? Like she was made for us."

His hand slid from your hair to you jaw, thumb tracing your cheek. He could see the bulge of his cock against your cheek - it made you look a little chipmunk getting all cozy and ready for winter. Your tears were caught on your lashes, silver dew drops like you just took a swim.

"You heard me, baby? You're made for us. Made to fuck us and keep us happy. Our little lady."

They both pushed into you at the same time.

Thick cock bullying into you, trapping you between them with nowhere to go. You wanted to scream, but you couldn't. You couldn't even think. Couldn't even breathe.

The green eyed cowboy pulled on your leash and forced you to tilt your head back, bare your throat to him. He pushed deeper into you, until his dick was down your throat and your nose was brushing the hard muscles of his stomach.

He held you there, cock down your throat and tears collecting in your eyes, while his partner started thrusting.

You couldn't breathe.

You couldn't pull away, couldn't fight him. You could just look up at him, eyes all wide and scared. Your panic was thick in your blood and he drank it in.

Smirking, keeping you at his mercy. He knew you couldn't breathe, and he still held you on his cock.

Your heart was racing and you felt light headed before he finally pulled out. You gasped, thick strings of spit connecting you. He only gave you enough time to catch a few deep breaths before he was back in your mouth, thrusting. Going just as deep but thankfully pulling out.

You gagged and choked and felt like you were drowning on his cock. And all the while, his partner yanked you back and slammed balls deep into you.

It was too much. You couldn't focus on anything. You were limp in their hands, letting them fuck you and just trying to survive it.

You weren't sure how long it took. Your whole world was narrowed down to just them - their hands on you, getting tighter and meaner the closer they got to coming.

The one fucking you from the back let go of your hip and curled his whole arm around your waist, leaning over you until his lips were on your neck. Fucking you hunched over like a dog in heat.

He bit your shoulder, sunk his teeth in with a snarl.

They didn't talk much anymore. There weren't any words left. Just the need to fuck and claim and come.

The sounds were the worst. The slick squelching of a cock in your cunt, the slap of skin on skin, the heavy snarls for you to take it like a good girl. And their raspy breathing, like stallions after a gallop.

The gunslinger pulled harder on your leash, keeping you still while he fucked your face. He's teeth were gritted tight, his eyes narrowed and focused entirely on you.

The dark one must have hit something deep inside you, because you made a whining, moaning sort of noise that vibrated all through his cock.

That was what did it. He forced his cock all the way down your throat, held you in place while he came.

When he pulled out, you were coughing so hard your whole chest ached.

That's when you felt it - hot spunk splattering all over your asshole. Your whole body shuddered at the feeling.

The man behind you kissed your back between your shoulder blades and slowly moved down. When he came to your ass cheeks, he sunk his teeth in with a playful growl.

He flipped you onto your back, and you sunk bonelessly down onto the covers. Your nipples were tender and your neck was a patchwork of marks.

The dark skinned one flopped down next to you and threw a possessive arm around your waist. He hummed, pleased as a bear before winter.

"Best fuck I've had in ages."

His partner was silent, his fingers toying with the belt still around your neck. You tilted your head back to look at him.

He was smiling, not soft exactly but about as close as a cruel bastard like him could get. He was so handsome, when he wasn't trying to choke you.

He sighed and let his fingers drift up your cheeks.

"I wish we could stay, pretty. But the day ain't done just yet."

The other one grumbled. "Can't we just lay here for a bit? I've got my girl all nice and snug. Why should I let her go?"

"Boss's orders, that's why. We gotta play nice and share."

"Why? Those bastards don't deserve her."

"And we do?"

He didn't bother to answer, just pushed himself to his elbows and looked down at you. His eyes were a deep brown. Sweet, almost.

"No," he said quietly, "We don't."

He leaned down and kissed your cheek. Soft, like a husband would. He stood and only looked back at you when he was at the door. Hard man, killer and gunslinger that he was, you thought you saw just a little guilt in his eyes.

When he was gone, the green eyed gunslinger ran his hands through your hair.

"He's right, y'know. We don't deserve a girl like you."

There wasn't any guilt in his voice, just a deep sense of satisfaction.

"But we've got you anyway. If the world gave folk what they deserved, you'd never have been so unlucky to catch our eye in the first place."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss against your other cheek, and then nipped at your jaw. A coyote savouring a bone.

"You'll learn to take it, sweetheart. And when I'm done, you'll learn to like it."

He left his belt around your neck and let the door slam shut behind him.

You could hear when they joined the others out in the yard. Their laughter drifted up to you, sharp as a wild dog's bark.

You closed your eyes. On your back in nothing but your stockings and a leash. It wasn't the sort of thing you'd ever imagined as a possibility. Hell, a lot of today was filled with things you'd never even thought about.

You hurt in just about every place. But parts of you throbbed with a pain that wasn't entirely unwanted.

Traitorous body, traitorous mind.

You couldn't possibly like this. You were being used by criminals, killers. Your virginity was just another prize for them to steal. You were a good girl, raised in a good home with upright, moral parents. You weren't some lady of the night, some harlot, to enjoy their roughness.

Right?

When the door sighed open, you didn't even bother to open your eyes.

"These young ones don't know any gentleness, eh beauty?"

His voice was calm. The sort of soft tone you'd use with a filly still nervous 'bout the bit.

You could hear his footsteps. Heavy boots but no spurs.

You flinched when he touched the belt around your neck, but he didn't do much more than run his fingers across the leather.

"Let's get this off you. Idiots. You don't harness a creature so fine."

He pulled it off your neck carefully and then touched the bruises it left behind.

"Open your eyes for me, beauty. Let me see you."

You almost didn't. What more was there to see? Another man with too tight hands and a hunger that wouldn't end?

It was his voice that did it. So kind. No growl behind the words, no clenched teeth snarl.

The first thing you saw were his eyes. A dark hazel, like an eagle's.

"Ah, just as pretty as I thought. Do you want to sit up for me? Those ropes must be hurting something awful by now."

He was older than you, but not by too much. Older than the gunslingers, but not nearly as old as the boss. His hair was tied in braid that fell almost all the way down his back. Lakota, if you had to guess, or maybe Crow.

There was a pair of workman's gloves shoved in the pocket of his jeans, but he didn't carry a pistol. The wrangler most likely.

You sat up slowly, wary. He didn't seem awfully worked up about a naked woman sprawled on the bed in front of him. Maybe he wasn't so bad...

He untied your hands without letting his own wander.

You flexed your fingers and carefully brought your hands to your lap. Your shoulders ached from being stuck in one position for so long.

"Will you let me go?"

"Oh, beauty." He touched his knuckles to your cheek. "That's what you want, isn't it? To go back home?"

"Yes." Your throat felt tight with tears. "More than anything."

He closed his eyes.

"It hurts to see you cry, beauty. It hurts to see these marks on you. But even if I was the only one holding you back, even if it was entirely up to me... I wouldn't."

"Are you going to do the same thing as the rest of them?"

He held your face in his palms, thumbs tracing your cheekbones. He smiled, but it was awfully sad.

"It's been real long time since I've had a woman, beauty. And never one so fine. I'm still just a man."

You were crying again, though you didn't realise it. Tears washing hot over his fingers.

"Shhh." He leaned down and kissed your forehead. "I'll be gentle. I won't hurt you."

He undid his belt slowly, eyes on you the entire time. You were on your knees again, your stockings making you look oh so innocent and oh so filthy all at once.

He grabbed your hand before he took his cock out. You pulled away, but his grip was too strong. Not rough, not hurting you. Just too firm to escape.

He brought you hand to his crotch, pressed your palm against his cock. Even through the thick denim of his jeans, you could feel how hard it was.

"All your doing, beauty. That's all your fault."

He undid the last button and his dick pushed it's way free. Big and no less intimidating for being the second one today. His fingers were knotted between yours and he dragged your hand up his shaft. He sighed, a man finally getting release.

"Here, this will go faster if you use your mouth."

His other hand came to rest on the nape of your neck. Not forcing you down exactly, but heavy, inexorable. Trying to refuse him was like fighting the pull of the moon.

He didn't force himself into you like the gunslinger did. Just kept using your hand - still dry - to stroke himself.

"Come now beauty. Just a little lick and it will all be over. You want that, don't you?"

You did. You wanted this day to end.

You cautiously licked the head of his cock, your tongue almost blistering hot. He groaned and for just a second, the hand on your nape tightened. Like he really did just want to pull you onto him and have his own way.

"There you go. Not so terrible, is it?"

It wasn't. He tasted salty, but not in an unpleasant way. And hearing him groan like that made some part of your gut flutter.

You felt just a little braver. When he pulled you closer, you let him. He rubbed the tip against your lips, smearing pre-cum all over them.

You didn't want his cock down your throat. Didn't want to feel like you were choking. But everything he'd done to you so far had been miles different to the gunslingers. Maybe he'd be different in this too.

Slowly, you opened your mouth. You expected him to shove himself inside you, betray the tiny bit of trust he'd built.

He didn't. Instead, he stood perfectly still. He even stopped using your hand, though he kept it wrapped around the base. Just letting you get comfortable. Letting you explore.

It was what your daddy did when he was working to tame a colt. He'd let them get used to him a little at a time, until they didn't mind his touch at all.

You were too nervous to take him in much deeper than the tip. But he didn't complain at all, just watched you with those golden eyes.

You sucked on him. Just the tip, but you wrapped your lips around him and treated it like it was candy. You flicked your tongue across the underside of his head, eyes locked on his to see if he liked it.

And from the way his breathing was picking up, you reckoned he liked it plenty.

Hadn't the gunslinger wanted you to kiss his? Maybe that's what men wanted. You pulled off his cock with a wet little pop and turned your attention to his shaft. You kissed him - small, shy little pecks all the way down to his hand and then back up again.

He was smiling, head tilted. He almost seemed amused.

"So that's how you like it, huh?"

You hummed, not sure how to respond. Both the gunslingers and the boss kept getting faster the closer they were to finishing. Maybe if you used your hand...

He seemed surprised when you moved your palm, but it didn't last long. When he was sure of what you were doing, he let go of your hand and let you do it all by yourself.

There was a lot of friction and you couldn't go as fast as you wanted without yanking on him. You needed some kind of lube, something to make him all slick...

Oh.

Of course.

You licked him, all the way from balls to tip, trying to drool on his cock as much as possible. He shivered, voice getting just a bit tighter.

"Careful girl. You're playing with fire."

You didn't know what he meant. All you wanted was to finish this. Be able to rest and dream sweet dreams, dreams without men's hands on your body.

His cock was wet with your spit and when you started using your hand, it squelched lewdly.

He groaned, his hand coming to your jaw and his thumb tracing your lips.

"Open your mouth for me, beauty."

You did. You couldn't look away from his eyes. That burnished gold like dead man's treasure.

He pressed his thumb against your tongue, ran it over your teeth. He seemed just as captivated by you as you were by him. The men outside were laughing again, voices raised and vulgar. But he didn't for a second look away from you.

He smiled and said something to you in a language you didn't understand.

Your hand was moving a lot faster now that you'd found your stride, your thumb brushing over his slit on every third stroke. The only sign that he was getting closer was his breathing.

At the last second, he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and rested his tip against your lips.

Hot spunk shot at you, some of it dribbling down your chin and some of it coating your tongue. He groaned, jaw clenched tight. He was panting like a dog on a hot day, still looking at you like you were the finest thing he'd ever seen.

He pulled his cock away and replaced it with his thumb, smearing his load between your lips and across your teeth. He spoke in his language again, words just a little more forceful than before.

You thought he was done with you. Thought he'd be satisfied with leaving.

Instead, he leaned down and kissed you. One hand was still on your nape and you had no room to pull away.

It was your first proper kiss. He was hungry, his tongue scraping across your teeth. One hand came to rest behind you on the bed, and he slowly forced you down, still caught between his lips and his hand.

He ended up between your legs, still not letting you go even though you were both almost out of breath.

"Beauty," he muttered, lips pressing against on yours.

When he finally broke away, he didn't go far. He rested his forehead to yours, breathing hard. You were sharing the same air, in that tight little space. And somehow that felt more intimate than anything else the outlaws had done to you.

He was practically lying on top of you, the hand that held your neck now tangled in your hair, and his other at your waist. He held you like a lover would.

A lover. Would you ever have one, if they let you go? Who would want you after your virgin's blood was spilled?

He kissed your cheek, slow and lingering.

"Oh beauty, how can I be so lucky?"

He didn't let you go. Just held you underneath him and laid his head on the side of your neck.

You were tense, muscles all coiled and ready to be hurt. But in his arms, you relaxed a little at a time without even realising it. This man wouldn't hurt you, whatever his reasons were.

His dark hair had come loose from it's braid and you absentmindedly brushed it off his brow. That made him smile just a little.

It had grown quiet outside and the only sound was of the breeze rustling the curtains and his soft breathing.

"How did such a kind man become an outlaw?"

You didn't really mean to ask that. And kind couldn't be applied to him without qualifiers. But in the face of everything that had happened to you, his softness was saintly.

He hummed against your neck.

"Bad luck. Bad people. Having nowhere to go back to. It changes you."

You swallowed, sad though you weren't sure why.

"I'm sorry."

He pushed himself up and looked into your eyes.

"Don't be. You're my reward, my reparation."

He brushed his knuckles across your cheek again. "I've waited my whole life for you."

You wanted to ask why. What made you so special? Why did he want to keep you?

The door opened with a bang.

"Are ya really still busy? That ain't fuckin' fair."

The gunslingers were standing in the door, both of them looking irritated. Your whole body tensed. They couldn't be back so soon, could they?

The wrangler pushed himself to his knees. The way he was sitting, your hips ended up on his lap with your legs on either side of him. He put a hand on your thigh absent-mindedly.

When he looked back at them, any softness in him drained away. He was just another outlaw with hard eyes.

"Is it the boy? Boss is really letting you go through with it?"

"It's 'bout time he became a man. And you're the one who was goin' on 'bout playing nice."

The wrangler sighed and looked back at you. When he spoke, it was just for you to hear. 

"I don't want to leave you, beauty. But boss's orders."

He leaned down and kissed you, ignoring the gunslingers' cat calls.

When he stood up, you had half a mind to ask him to stay. You almost reached for him. But the gunslingers were watching you and something in you whispered that showing him favour was a terrible idea. You kept your hands knotted in the sheets. For both your sakes.

When he was gone, you sat up and pushed yourself all the way back to the headboard. Hugged your knees to your chest. You hadn't noticed him earlier, but the gunslingers had a boy with them.

They were half dragging him into the room, one with his hand on the boy's nape and the other with a fist in his shirt.

He was young, barely past eighteen. Slightly built, with pale eyes and bronze curls. He wasn't looking at you. Or more accurately, he was doing everything possible to avoid looking at you.

The gunslingers gave him a rough shove and he landed on the bed, bouncing a little before he pushed himself up.

"Gonna get your first taste of a woman boy, and she's a real fine one."

The green eyed gunslinger leaned over and grabbed your ankle. With one brutal yank, he dragged you away from the headboard and all the way to the foot of the bed.

"Missed me, sweetheart? 'Cause I sure missed you."

He caught one of your wrists and tutted.

"Just like him to let you loose. Fuckin' hell, don't he realise how much easier you are when you're all tied up?"

He knelt with one boot on the mattress and pulled you up, twisting your arm behind your back so you ended up with your head tucked under his chin.

"We was feelin' real bad 'bout hurting you, pretty. So we thought we'd make it up to you. Brought you somethin' you'll really enjoy."

You were skeptical of anything he did. He wasn't the charitable kind.

The boy finally looked at you. His eyes were round, nervous.

"Do... do you want this?"

The gunslinger slapped a palm over your mouth before you could answer him, dragging you closer to him at the same time.

" 'Course she wants it. She'd be fighting a whole lot harder if she didn't. Ain't that right?"

"Would be clawing our eyes out if she really didn't want it," the other gunslinger agreed.

The boy looked rightly skeptical. You were crying an awful lot for someone who "wanted it."

"But..."

The dark skinned gunslinger sighed and grabbed the boy's neck.

"Look at her. You're tellin' me you ain't getting just a little hard seeing her like that?"

"Yes but -"

"But what? You want her. And she's right there for the taking. It ain't complicated."

The man holding you was obviously getting impatient.

"You wanna be a man? Wanna come on jobs with us? Than fucking earn it."

That seemed to decide him. He crawled towards you, just as scared to touch you as you were to be touched.

"What do I do?"

"Open her legs and start eating."

He touched your knee. He gulped, focused entirely on the feel of you. He slowly let his hands drift up your thighs.

When he reached your mid thighs, he tried to pull them apart just a little. You kept your legs as tightly closed as you could. Whatever you tried to say was muffled by the gunslinger's hand, but it was enough to make the boy look up at your face.

You could see it in his eyes. The desire to have you and the horror at knowing this was all forced. In the end, guilt won.

"I can't."

He pulled away from you, his fingers shaking.

"She doesn't want this. How can you hold her down and make her take it?"

The dark skinned gunslinger clicked his teeth in annoyance.

"God, could you be any more pathetic? It don't matter what she wants. All that matters is that you're strong enough to take what you want."

The boy was almost off the bed when the gunslinger grabbed his hair and yanked him back.

"It's a lesson you gotta learn boy. Or you ain't gonna live long in this business."

The boy yelped, hands coming up to try and pull himself loose. You could have told him it was useless - you couldn't escape their hold no matter how hard you fought.

He dragged the boy across the bed and back to you.

The gunslinger holding you could see where this was going and he laughed, mean and mocking.

"Gonna be the hard way, eh?"

His hand dropped from your mouth and curled around your throat. He squeezed, just hard enough to remind you of his strength.

"Be a good little pet and open your legs."

You didn't. Hadn't they done enough already? They'd ruined you. Why not just leave the boy alone?

The gunslinger growled. "Ain't listening so well without my belt around your throat, is that it?"

He twisted your arm further up your back, until your whole shoulder was throbbing. You squirmed, arching against him to get the pressure off. 

"Do I gotta teach you a whole new lesson in obedience? I promise I'm a much harder master than the boss."

He let go of you throat and grabbed your thigh, his fingers digging into the meat. His partner was quick to do the same on your other leg. It wasn't any good fighting them. They weren't scared of hurting you and they didn't care if they left bruises.

They wrenched your thighs apart and the gunslinger shoved the boys head between your legs.

"You ain't scared of a lil' blood, are ya? Clean her up nice and good."

The boy looked up at you with tears brimming in his waterline.

"I'm sorry."

He didn't have the boss's skill. His tongue was soft, hesitant. Probing, but totally unsure what to do.

You shivered at the feeling of his lips on your clit, his warm breath tickling your thighs.

The gunslinger growled and pushed him further down, until his nose was grinding into your folds.

"She ain't gonna get away. Use your whole tongue, suck on her, bite. Fuck's sake, do we gotta do everything for you?"

The one at your back laughed and nipped your cheek.

"She wants it though. Just look at those pretty tears."

The boy whimpered but did as he was told, dragging his tongue all the way up. His hands came to rest on your thighs, skin so much softer than the other men's.

His teeth brushed your clit and you gasped. The boy froze.

And then, he did it again.

You shuddered, thighs shaking just a little. He didn't seem to notice it, but his grip on your legs was getting tighter. He focused on the sensitive spot he'd found, raking his tongue across it.

You made another small, involuntary sound.

The man at your back purred. "There. Ain't that sweet to hear?"

The boy started to suck on your clit, tongue hot and wet. He pushed himself deeper, his nose and chin both buried in your cunt. He didn't even notice when the gunslinger let go of his hair.

He curled his arm around your lower back and pulled you closer to him, almost lifting you off the bed. The wet sounds of his sucking filled the room.

The gunslinger let go of you thigh, satisfied that the boy had a good grip on you. He kissed the corner of your lips, his hand coming up to play with your tits.

"Y'know, we never did get to make you come. Can't help wonderin' what you sound like."

You kept your jaw clenched tight. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction.

He must have read your mind, because he chuckled. Pinched your nipple hard enough that you bucked in his grip.

"Oh, you're going to come for us. Ain't that right boy?"

The boy muttered something and went right back to eating you out. You could feel the same heat in your belly as when the boss had you. Like a band about to snap. Every little move was too much, every flick of his tongue on your clit was somehow more intense.

You squirmed, trying everything you could to get him off. The boy ignored you. Just held on a little tighter and pinned you thigh to the bed.

"Please," you whined. "It's too much."

The gunslingers snickered at that.

"Poor darlin'. Does it hurt real good?"

"Don't fight it. Just let it happen. No one will know except us."

"And we're real good at keeping secrets."

The extra mean gunslinger pressed his cheek against yours and looked down at the boy between your legs.

"Don't tell me you're shy. We're real well acquainted by now, ain't we?"

You hated when he spoke to you like that. All sweetly condescending.

The boy wasn't letting up. Just kept sucking your clit and dipping his flexed tongue into your hole, switching from one to the other like he couldn't get enough. Like you were water in the desert and he'd drop dead without you in his mouth.

You fisted the duvet in your free hand, trying to distract yourself. No good. Your body had wants and needs of its own.

You could feel it building and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it.

You threw your head back and bit your lip, but it still wasn't enough. Small whines and gasps slipped through.

Your cunt was clenching, your whole belly a warm knot finally coming undone. It felt better than good.

It felt fucking incredible.

The boy didn't seem to notice. He just kept at it, even though your clit was swollen and aching and bright with blood.

The gunslinger noticed though. You could feel him smiling against your neck.

He tugged at your earlobe with his teeth and then kissed all the way down to your shoulder.

"Maybe we ought to be nicer, if that's what you sound like."

"Like a fox in a trap. Whinin' so nice 'fer us."

Your whole body felt like you touched lightening. And the boy's tongue was the worst if it.

"Please, enough. I...can't..."

The dark skinned gunslinger leaned closer to you, smiling in a way that wasn't nice at all.

"You're so sweet when you beg, filly. Ask politely and I'll get him off you."

You swallowed your pride. What was left of it after today anyway? They'd seen far too much of you for you to hold onto false modesty.

"Please. It's too much. Just make it stop."

Maybe it was your voice or maybe it was your tears or maybe he was just feeling merciful after emptying his balls inside you. He grabbed the boy's hair and hauled him up.

The kid's lips were red and swollen, his whole jaw slick with spit and spunk. He looked dazed, eyes still on the spot between your thighs.

"I'm not done yet. Can't I just..."

"Ain't complaining now, are ya? You see why we went through all that trouble for her?"

He was still holding onto you and he made a half hearted tug to get you closer to him.

"Five more minutes. Please."

The gunslinger scoffed. "You think just 'cause you had a taste you can make demands?"

He pulled the boy's hair and dragged him off the bed. His jeans were bulging at the crotch and his eyes never left you.

"But you said -"

"We said that you'd get a taste. Nothin' more."

The gunslinger holding you spoke up, his lips still pressed against your shoulder.

"You gotta earn it boy. Our girl ain't gonna be wasted on some greenhorn."

"Gonna have to make do with your fist, like the rest of us had to."

When the boy was off the bed, the gunslinger let go of your arm and shoved you forward. You landed on your forearms, your body sprawled in front of him.

He planted a hard smack on your ass and leaned over you, lips brushing your hair.

"You'd better dream about me sweetheart. Better feel me in your mouth when you close your eyes."

His fingers swiped across your cunt, rough and probing. You winced at the feel of him.

"Or else I'll just have to fuck you so hard the memory is burned into your mind."

You looked over your shoulder, eyes catching his for just a second. Long enough to realise he meant every word of his threat. He smirked, satisfied.

He stood and grabbed the boy by his upper arm. Together with his partner, they bundled him out the door. Business all finished, eh?

You sagged into the bed and watched them leave, your cunt still pulsing when you moved. You were exhausted and you looked it, too tired to push yourself up.

A hand caught the door before it closed.

Another one? How much more were you supposed to take?

The newcomer nudged the door back open and stood there for a minute, watching you. He had a bowl of water in his hand, a wash rag thrown over the side.

You hadn't seen his face before, but you recognised him. The tall, well spoken one who made you ride on his horse.

He was dressed better than most of the others. A black, silk waist coat and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A silver cross dangled on a chain around his neck.

It made you want to laugh. What God could he worship, when he was a sinner so black?

"Hello dove."

You didn't answer. Just watched him with your cunt fluttering and your lips bruised. 

He was the palest out of them all, skin more like a scholar's than a cowboy's. He had black hair, as long as the gunslinger's, but tied back. He was probably Chinese, but born on this side of the Pacific. His accent was almost the same as yours.

He walked towards you slowly. Not nervous, but more like he was worried about spooking you.

He put the bowl of water down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, half facing you.

"It must hurt."

You stayed quiet. What did he know of hurt? He wasn't the one being held down and fucked.

He nodded at the bowl. You hadn't noticed it, but the water was a milky white.

"That's to clean you up. I reckon they left a few more cuts and scrapes than they intended."

You found your voice. Smaller, meeker than you remembered.

"Why do you care?"

"You think we don't care?"

You blinked. Of course you thought that. What else was there to think? They were outlaws who took you to satisfy themselves for an afternoon or two. What more could there be?

He laughed, but it was a bitter thing.

"Oh, qīn’ài de. If we didn't care, you'd still be a free woman."

You didn't understand what he was getting at. He sighed and reached for your ankle.

You jerked away. You didn't want to be touched ever again. Not by a man, not by anyone.

He sighed again.

"Don't be difficult. I want to help you."

"Why?"

He was quiet. Just watching you with his dark eyes. There was something familiar about him, though you couldn't tell what.

Finally, "You don't remember me."

You were in no frame of mind to care about his feelings.

"No."

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his forehead resting on his knuckles. Like a man at prayer. He turned his head a little to speak to you.

"It's been a long time, but you saved my life once."

You frowned, totally blank.

"You were still just a girl. Thirteen or fourteen maybe. I'd just turned twenty, part of a gang for the first time and too damn cocky."

He rubbed the skin just above his thumb. There was an ugly scar there, the skin still raised and puckered after all these years.

"Our heist went wrong. Sherrif and his deputies were waiting for us. I got shot. Not so bad that it would kill me, but bad enough that I couldn't make it home."

You couldn't see where this was going.

"Ended up in a barn, bleeding everywhere. I heard footsteps and I thought for sure I was done for. That the rancher was going to blow my brains all over the wall. But it wasn't him that found me."

You sat up slowly and ended up on your knees, your back to him. You thought you understood now, but you let him keep speaking.

"Wasn't him, but his daughter. Dropped the milk when she saw me but she didn't scream. Just came over and asked how she could help me. Me. A wanted man who'd just killed six deputies."

You didn't know that part of the story. All you remembered was the hot summer sun slanting through the cracks in the barn, and the young man bleeding out in the hay. You remembered him digging the bullet out and asking you to stitch him up, his face going all pale.

You closed you eyes and it was like you were right back there, hiding him in the hayloft and telling your pa the blood on your dress was from killing a chicken.

"Why did you do it?" he asked.

"Because you looked scared. And because I was a little in love with you."

That probably wasn't the answer he was expecting. You pulled in a shuddering breath.

"You were older than me, but still so young. The most handsome man I'd ever met. You told me you got shot by mistake, and not to tell anyone because it would get your little brother in trouble."

You could hear a smile in his voice.

"And you believed me?"

"Yes. Why would you lie to me? Outlaws were just a thing from stories. And I suppose I wanted to believe you. You told me I was going to be really pretty someday, that you'd have to come back and marry me. No one had ever said anything like that to me."

He hummed. "You really thought I was handsome?"

"Yes."

He still was, but he had none of the sweet, boyish softness you remembered. He was handsome in a hard, dangerous way. Diamond rough. You could cut your skin on the sharpness of him.

"But what does that have to do with anything? Why...why do this to me, if you owe me your life?"

He sighed and reached for you. He hooked his arm around your waist and dragged you onto his lap.

"I kept checking in on you over the years, do you know that? Every time I was near your ranch I'd ride out and look for you. Always watching."

"Why?"

"I felt like I owed you. I wanted to make sure you were fine. And when you got older...well, I just liked looking at you."

You shivered. There was something in his voice, a longing far deeper than anyone of the other cowboys'.

"Will you let me go when you're done?"

He sighed and tucked your hair behind your ear.

"Maybe that would be the merciful option. But we aren't merciful men."

He pulled your head onto his shoulder when you started crying.

"You're going to stay with us, qīn’ài de. For a very, very long time."

"Why now? Why..."

His hand was soft in your hair, his voice even softer.

"You're young, lovely, a rancher's only child. How much longer 'til your pa started to consider marriage? And who would come knocking on his door? No, I couldn't loose you to them."

"You're the one..." you tried pulling away but he kept you still, head against his shoulder.

"Me," he agreed, "I'm the one to blame for this. And even knowing that, I wouldn't take it back."

"The others..."

"Brutes, aren't they? But they're my brothers. And once they saw you, they wanted you too."

He said he couldn't loose you to another man, but that didn't make any sense.

"If that's true, why did you let the others..." You swallowed, not sure how to go on.

"Why did I let the others have you first?"

You nodded. He played with the cross on his necklace. Finally, he spoke.

"Because I want the most time with you."

He pulled away to look at you and you realised how wrong you were. It wasn't that he didn't feel any lust for you, it was just that he hid it far better than the rest of them.

But now... oh, his was the worst you'd seen. Boiling hot, on the end of its tether. This was a man who wanted you. Who'd spent years wanting you.

He laid a palm on your thigh.

War is a terrible thing and you end up a prisoner almost entirely on accident. Said to be a spy though you're nothing more than an unlucky commoner who angered the wrong people.

He ends up a prisoner too, hauled off the battlefield when he's too injured to put up a fight. Just another prisoner of war, a dime a dozen. He's thrown into the duke's lockup and forgotten.

Whatever fate had in mind, you end up in the same dungeon. Cells next to each other, with nothing to do but tell stories and shiver.

It's miserable there. The gaolers are cruel for the sake of it. The meals are scant, the drinking water not much better. It's the sort of place where dying is considered the lucky option. And maybe you'd have given in, the both of you. Just closed your eyes and let your bodies waste away.

But unlike so many others, you have each other.

You can't see him and he can't see you. All either of you have is a voice in the dark. And somehow, that's enough.

Maybe you manage to escape together or maybe the Duke is defeated and his prisoners liberated. Whatever the case, he's right by your side when you step into the sun again.

How many years has it been? When was the last time you saw the sky?

You were sweet once. Kind, gentle. But years in the lord's prison have changed you. You're sharp and prickly now, slow to trust and even slower to forgive.

An ex-warrior yandere who sees the hurt under all your layers of indifference. Who decides right then and there, that first moment in the sun, that his one goal in life is to keep you safe.

An ex-warrior yandere who says he'll be your guard until you reach your destination, wherever it may be. You're weak, you're unfamiliar with the changes in the world. Anyone can come along and take advantage of you.

An ex-warrior yandere who follows you with a sort of quiet, implacable devotion. It doesn't matter if you're prickly or sharp tongued or so ruined that you fear your heart is forever frozen over. He'll always be there - two steps behind you to guard your back.

You try to send him away. Try to tell him you didn't need a guard dog. He just looks at you and says he's not going anywhere. Not forceful, but gentle and firm. He isn't leaving you, not when you're so scarred from the war that most days you don't speak more than five words to anyone.

It's baffling. Why does he care about forgotten detritus like you? What good will it do? He's still strong, still handsome despite the scars. He can still have a normal life.

But no. He chooses you.

Chooses to walk with you from one village to the next. Chooses to sleep rough even though folk offer him work. Chooses to endure the rain and the cold and the long nights spent sleeping on hard ground. 

"Why?" you ask him time and again. "Why follow me? Why make me your purpose?"

He looks at you over the fire, a small, slanted smile on his face.

"Why do you think?"

You can't quite manage to puzzle it out, though anyone who sees him at your side can almost immediately tell.

Eventually, you settle down. A broken down old cottage at the edge of the woods. A place the villagers are all too glad to hand over. Better you than the vines, even if your eyes do frighten them.

An ex-warrior yandere who fixes the cottage for you, brick by brick. Who cleans out the overgrown garden and trades his labour to buy you seeds. Violets and lilacs and daffodils. Mint and thyme. All the plants you told him you missed the most when you were locked away.

An ex-warrior yandere who spends his evenings sitting next to you at the hearth, not speaking much, just resting his head on your knees and carving wood. Thinking how lucky he is to have this bit of quiet. That all the years of war and captivity were well worth the price if it means having you.

An ex-warrior yandere who slowly heals the broken parts inside you. Who teaches you to watch the sky and the path of the birds. Who teaches you to breathe deep when the nightmares come. Who sits awake with you when you're too afraid of your past to sleep.

An ex-warrior yandere who tells people in the village that you're his wife, even though you've never even kissed. When you ask him about it, he just shrugs his massive shoulders and says it's safer that way. And it's only the trees that know the truth - he calls you his wife because he likes the way it sounds.

For a while, things are good. You tend your herbs and make your tinctures. For a while, he believes he's put his sword behind him for good.

But your past follows you. The angry lover who called you a spy, maybe. Or a lord who isn't satisfied that his secrets are safe with you still around. Whatever the case, they come at night. Watch you, wait for their chance.

You don't notice them, too focused on your brews and potions.

But he does.

When evening comes, he picks up his wood ax and tells you he wants to bring back a few more branches for the night.

"But we've got plenty. And it's dark."

He smiles then, warmed by your concern.

"I won't be gone long, dove. Just a short walk. Keep the food warm for me."

And it is indeed a short walk. He catches them by surprise, awfully quiet for such a big man. They don't even have time to scream or grab their swords before he's cut them all down.

An ex-warrior yandere who wipes the blood off his face and inspects the blade of his ax.

"Ruined," he sighs. "She'll give me hell for it, I hope you know that."

The cooling corpses have no reply.

An ex-warrior yandere who returns home with a stack of firewood and a bunch of wildflowers.

You take them from him and breathe in their perfume.

"Lovely. Thank you."

That makes him smile again. Look at you, saying thank you. Accepting his gifts. It's been a long road to get here. If he closes his eyes he can still see you on that first day, too bitter and angry to even say please.

The flowers fill your whole cottage with their wild mountain smell, and you don't notice the faint trace of blood underneath the perfume. And if he has his way, you never will.

An ex-warrior yandere who swears off his old life. Who swears off violence and death and blood. Unless it comes to you.

He'll burn villages to ash for you. Cut so many throats he can drink the blood like water. He's a good man, but for you he'll throw it all away.

And those who are stupid enough to try it? To hurt the only good thing he's ever had?

Well, they find out awfully quickly exactly what happened to the Butcher of Brostick. They learn awfully fast that a man can change his name, but it's a much harder thing to change his nature.

An ex-warrior yandere who is the kindest, sweetest man you've ever met. Who doesn't raise his voice or pick fights. Who's always at your side when you need a place to lay your head. Who loves you with the deep, immovable devotion of an oak reaching for the sun.

pornstar!toji who revels in the way your back arches off the mattress—he'd accuse you of putting on a show for the cameras if your hips weren't bucking up against his face in an almost primal need. he can taste it on you, the genuine lust, the way you drip wet on his tongue and still grab at his hair for more. and when he gives you more—when he finally slips his cock into you—he can't help himself from groaning out something needy. he's the silent type, letting his costar take center stage, but god can he not keep quiet feeling your walls wrapped around him.

pornstar!toji who has never had an issue with porn before, but with your legs wrapped around his waist, your eyes locked onto his as he pumps in and out of you with white hot need, he finds he hates the thought of anyone else seeing you like this. he's not a possessive man, he shouldn't feel this way, but he does. even the watchful stares of the cameramen piss him off, and he finds his hips moving faster and his cock nestling deeper inside of you just to show them that he's the one pleasing you.

pornstar!toji who can't help but kiss you as you both cum in unison. he ruins the shot, the cameras cant see your orgasm face when he's swallowing your moans like they're sweet wine. he's surprised his pay doesn't get cut for it.

when pornstar!toji does get paid, it's the first cheque in a very long time that he doesn't blow the same night it comes through. because he doesn't have time to go out and waste his money: he's at home fucking his fist to the film you made together and mentally degrading himself for being so pussy whipped. he strokes himself in time with his own thrusts in the video, and tries so desperately to recall your taste on his tongue, but its fruitless. he's agitated and sexually frustrated and keeps reloading your personal pages to see if you've filmed with anyone since him.

pornstar!toji who becomes so lost in his own mind that he starts turning down shoots with other actors—shoots with good pay. he's done everything under the sun, done all the hardcore porn and weird fetish content but now that he's gotten a fresh taste of plain passion sex with you, he can't stomach anything else. he'd say your name, he knows it—and it doesn't help that he hasn't been able to reach orgasm for a week without thinking of you.

pornstar!toji who, after three weeks of pure misery, decides to make a move. he doesn't do dates or romantic nights on the town. he doesn't do flowers or sweet nothings or eye contact even, but he finds himself contacting shiu and threatening the poor man in hopes of your real name, your address, anything.

You aren’t quite sure how your arrangement came to be. One minute you were handing him rent money and the next he was lapping at your cunt like a starved man. It doesn’t matter. You're content knowing that if he’s waiting on the staircase when you get home from work, it’s going to be a good night.

He’ll pull you down the hall, hands tangling in your hair and lips crashing against yours, fumbling clumsily with his keys to unlock the door to his apartment, all but kicking the door open and carrying you inside.

His kisses are hungry, greedy. Filled with a passion that you’ve never felt with boys back home. Maybe it’s just the fantasy-fulfillment aspect of having a hot foreign lover, but if he’s anything to go by, the rumors of men overseas being better at sex are definitely true.

Before you can even make it into the bedroom, your clothes are peeled off and shed on his kitchen floor. He's all over you the minute you’re naked, grabbing and touching you like he wants to commit the feeling to memory, worshiping every nook and cranny like he may never feel you again. 

You and him will somehow stumble into his bed in between hot kisses. Sometimes he’ll chase you playfully, sometimes he’ll lead you by the hand, sometimes he’ll scoop you up and throw you onto the mattress; mumbling something in his language that you don’t understand but sounds pretty hot regardless. 

Then he’ll climb on top of you and take you apart piece by piece. Suckling gently on your nipples while his fingers work your clit, nibbling little love bites on your thighs before lifting your hips so he can bury his face in your cunt, pressing teasing kisses down your body, mumbling what you assume to be praise of your figure in between each one. 

He just understands your body. He's attentive, a quick learner. It only took about a week of sleeping together for him to know exactly how to unravel you. He’s a generous lover. You’ve never slept with him without orgasming at least once. You’ve never had to fake an orgasm either, which is a massive improvement from the past men you’ve been with. 

It's not lost on you that the way he treats you is kind of strange for a fuck-buddy...

...But damn if it isn’t hot when he gets down on his knees and mumbles a prayer of adoration into your stomach.

Once it’s his turn to receive it can go one of two ways:

He’ll either be gentle, caressing you like fine china as he rolls his hips into yours, making love to you slowly, reverently, using your moans as a guide on how to touch you. He’ll cum with you, holding your hand as you both tumble over the edge, then pull you into his chest as the two of you come down and prepare for round two, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

Or he’ll be rough and relentless. Pounding into you unforgivingly, tossing you into whatever position he pleases before fucking you hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall. He’s quite kinky, you’ve learned. When he’s in these moods he likes spitting in your mouth and pulling your hair, calling you filthy names as you cum for the third time.

You’ve learned a few new words in his language since you met him: faster, slower, slut, fuck, and I’m going to cum.

Not very practical for day to day use but still nice to know.

Once the two of you are spent, you’ll shower and he’ll pour you a glass of wine, then you'll sit on his small balcony in silence, looking out at the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. 

It’s…nice. Peaceful. It’s strange that you feel so intimate with him when the only real conversation you’ve ever had was a google translated text message about rent. 

But just like any good drama with a foreign fling, it can't last forever. 

As great as he is in bed, this country isn’t your home. You miss your family and friends and being able to ask for directions without feeling like an idiot. You’ll miss him—no doubt lie in bed sometimes and wonder what he’s doing, if he still thinks of you—but it’s better this way. You don’t belong here, you never have.

You’re sitting on his balcony basking in afterglow about three weeks before you’re set to leave when you drop the news. It’s better sooner rather than later, you decide. It’s not like you could irish-goodbye him, he is your landlord.

“Leaving…” his brow knits. He says it like the word tastes sour in his mouth.

“Yeah, in three weeks.” you smile, holding up three fingers for clarification.

He puts his cigarette out in the ashtray, shaking his head and mumbling something that you can’t understand. He looks…distressed. You hadn’t expected him to be thrilled by the news, but he looks like someone just punched him in the gut.

“Are you alri-”

“You aren’t leaving me.” he snaps, grabbing your wrist hard. Possessively, as if he’s nervous you might run away from him.

You're surprised by his hostility, but more so by the response he gave you. It was heavily accented and short, but it was grammatically correct English—something he’d never given any indication of knowing. 

“What are you-” 

You're cut off by a searing hot kiss. Ravenous and passionate, full of teeth and tongue—but not in the way they normally are. This one is… darker, like he’s trying to establish his dominance.

You squirm and try to push him off of you but he won’t let you go, fisting a hand in your hair to hold you in place as his mouth claims yours.

“Did we mean nothing?” he asks, backing you against the wall, pinning your wrists above your head, “We’ve been making love for months and you want to leave?”

“English…” your eyes tear up as he nips at your neck, “I thought you…”

“I’ve known it the whole time,” he lets out a small laugh of amusement. “They teach us English in school. We actually have good education here.” You cry, feeling his hot breath on your skin as he alternates between making out and nibbling at your neck, “I thought you'd think it was romantic, having a foreign lover.”

Each kiss steals your breath, makes you dizzy. He licks his lips, eying you hungrily, “I was going to pretend to learn english for you. I thought it would be a cute story to tell our children…”

Your eyes widen. Children? He wants to have kids-

Your thoughts are interrupted by him rising to his feet, hoisting you up with him and walking you to his bed. He tosses you on the mattress, climbing on top of you, hissing something quietly in his language that you don’t understand as he rocks his hard erection against your thigh.

“You aren’t leaving.” he growls, “I’ll handcuff you to this damn bed if I have to. There is nothing where you came from that you don’t have here”

You writhe as he kisses down your torso, bucking and squirming, trying to push him off of you. He tugs your hips down with a growl, sinking his fingers into the squishy flesh to keep you from moving. 

“P-please…” streams of tears roll down your cheeks as he tugs down your pants, “M-my home… My family.”

“This is your home now,” he growls, holding you down with one hand, fumbling with his pants with the other, taking out his hard penis.

He chuckles to himself in amusement and lines up with your hole, murmuring the next part in against your swollen lips as he pushes himself in.

“And I’m gonna make you a brand new family tonight.”

You once heard that foreign men are better lovers. 

Guess it depends on which one you run into.

suguru geto, satoru gojo, levi ackerman, eren jaeger, bakugo katsuki, keigo takami, shouto todoroki, atsumu miya, osamu miya, tooru oikawa, kuroo tetsuro, kiyomi sakusa, keishin ukai, cameron beck

You aren’t quite sure how your arrangement came to be. One minute you were handing him rent money and the next he was lapping at your cunt like a starved man. It doesn’t matter. You're content knowing that if he’s waiting on the staircase when you get home from work, it’s going to be a good night.

He’ll pull you down the hall, hands tangling in your hair and lips crashing against yours, fumbling clumsily with his keys to unlock the door to his apartment, all but kicking the door open and carrying you inside.

His kisses are hungry, greedy. Filled with a passion that you’ve never felt with boys back home. Maybe it’s just the fantasy-fulfillment aspect of having a hot foreign lover, but if he’s anything to go by, the rumors of men overseas being better at sex are definitely true.

Before you can even make it into the bedroom, your clothes are peeled off and shed on his kitchen floor. He's all over you the minute you’re naked, grabbing and touching you like he wants to commit the feeling to memory, worshiping every nook and cranny like he may never feel you again. 

You and him will somehow stumble into his bed in between hot kisses. Sometimes he’ll chase you playfully, sometimes he’ll lead you by the hand, sometimes he’ll scoop you up and throw you onto the mattress; mumbling something in his language that you don’t understand but sounds pretty hot regardless. 

Then he’ll climb on top of you and take you apart piece by piece. Suckling gently on your nipples while his fingers work your clit, nibbling little love bites on your thighs before lifting your hips so he can bury his face in your cunt, pressing teasing kisses down your body, mumbling what you assume to be praise of your figure in between each one. 

He just understands your body. He's attentive, a quick learner. It only took about a week of sleeping together for him to know exactly how to unravel you. He’s a generous lover. You’ve never slept with him without orgasming at least once. You’ve never had to fake an orgasm either, which is a massive improvement from the past men you’ve been with. 

It's not lost on you that the way he treats you is kind of strange for a fuck-buddy...

...But damn if it isn’t hot when he gets down on his knees and mumbles a prayer of adoration into your stomach.

Once it’s his turn to receive it can go one of two ways:

He’ll either be gentle, caressing you like fine china as he rolls his hips into yours, making love to you slowly, reverently, using your moans as a guide on how to touch you. He’ll cum with you, holding your hand as you both tumble over the edge, then pull you into his chest as the two of you come down and prepare for round two, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

Or he’ll be rough and relentless. Pounding into you unforgivingly, tossing you into whatever position he pleases before fucking you hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall. He’s quite kinky, you’ve learned. When he’s in these moods he likes spitting in your mouth and pulling your hair, calling you filthy names as you cum for the third time.

You’ve learned a few new words in his language since you met him: faster, slower, slut, fuck, and I’m going to cum.

Not very practical for day to day use but still nice to know.

Once the two of you are spent, you’ll shower and he’ll pour you a glass of wine, then you'll sit on his small balcony in silence, looking out at the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. 

It’s…nice. Peaceful. It’s strange that you feel so intimate with him when the only real conversation you’ve ever had was a google translated text message about rent. 

But just like any good drama with a foreign fling, it can't last forever. 

As great as he is in bed, this country isn’t your home. You miss your family and friends and being able to ask for directions without feeling like an idiot. You’ll miss him—no doubt lie in bed sometimes and wonder what he’s doing, if he still thinks of you—but it’s better this way. You don’t belong here, you never have.

You’re sitting on his balcony basking in afterglow about three weeks before you’re set to leave when you drop the news. It’s better sooner rather than later, you decide. It’s not like you could irish-goodbye him, he is your landlord.

“Leaving…” his brow knits. He says it like the word tastes sour in his mouth.

“Yeah, in three weeks.” you smile, holding up three fingers for clarification.

He puts his cigarette out in the ashtray, shaking his head and mumbling something that you can’t understand. He looks…distressed. You hadn’t expected him to be thrilled by the news, but he looks like someone just punched him in the gut.

“Are you alri-”

“You aren’t leaving me.” he snaps, grabbing your wrist hard. Possessively, as if he’s nervous you might run away from him.

You're surprised by his hostility, but more so by the response he gave you. It was heavily accented and short, but it was grammatically correct English—something he’d never given any indication of knowing. 

“What are you-” 

You're cut off by a searing hot kiss. Ravenous and passionate, full of teeth and tongue—but not in the way they normally are. This one is… darker, like he’s trying to establish his dominance.

You squirm and try to push him off of you but he won’t let you go, fisting a hand in your hair to hold you in place as his mouth claims yours.

“Did we mean nothing?” he asks, backing you against the wall, pinning your wrists above your head, “We’ve been making love for months and you want to leave?”

“English…” your eyes tear up as he nips at your neck, “I thought you…”

“I’ve known it the whole time,” he lets out a small laugh of amusement. “They teach us English in school. We actually have good education here.” You cry, feeling his hot breath on your skin as he alternates between making out and nibbling at your neck, “I thought you'd think it was romantic, having a foreign lover.”

Each kiss steals your breath, makes you dizzy. He licks his lips, eying you hungrily, “I was going to pretend to learn english for you. I thought it would be a cute story to tell our children…”

Your eyes widen. Children? He wants to have kids-

Your thoughts are interrupted by him rising to his feet, hoisting you up with him and walking you to his bed. He tosses you on the mattress, climbing on top of you, hissing something quietly in his language that you don’t understand as he rocks his hard erection against your thigh.

“You aren’t leaving.” he growls, “I’ll handcuff you to this damn bed if I have to. There is nothing where you came from that you don’t have here”

You writhe as he kisses down your torso, bucking and squirming, trying to push him off of you. He tugs your hips down with a growl, sinking his fingers into the squishy flesh to keep you from moving. 

“P-please…” streams of tears roll down your cheeks as he tugs down your pants, “M-my home… My family.”

“This is your home now,” he growls, holding you down with one hand, fumbling with his pants with the other, taking out his hard penis.

He chuckles to himself in amusement and lines up with your hole, murmuring the next part in against your swollen lips as he pushes himself in.

“And I’m gonna make you a brand new family tonight.”

You once heard that foreign men are better lovers. 

Guess it depends on which one you run into.

suguru geto, satoru gojo, levi ackerman, eren jaeger, bakugo katsuki, keigo takami, shouto todoroki, atsumu miya, osamu miya, tooru oikawa, kuroo tetsuro, kiyomi sakusa, keishin ukai, cameron beck