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azureashes · 3 years

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Sukuna’s Curse

TW: NONCON, VIOLENCE, BLOOD AND GORE

Summary: Some cruel fate bound you to Sukuna's side. You could not escape. You weren't sure you wanted to.

Sukuna x Reader

Wordcount: 10 K

Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI

I don’t know if this is even any good at this point owing to the fact that I’m dead tired, BUT I wanted to finish this off, so here it is.

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But this time, something was off. The taste was almost tame in comparison - mild. Even the sensation of swallowing wasn’t quite the same, squishy and slimy instead of roughly scratching his esophagus all the way down. If he hadn’t been so eager to just get it over with the way he always was, to make it as short and painless as possible - he might have noticed something was off. He might have pointed it out to Gojo, to the principal, to anyone before swallowing the ominous, blotchy blue-green scrap of flesh they had given him.

It didn’t taste like one of Sukuna’s fingers.

Yuuji always tried to drop the disgusting, decrepit digit as close to his throat as possible so that he wouldn’t have to taste the bitter, corrosive flavor that burned on his tongue like decaying flesh - but he couldn’t avoid it entirely. There was always a lingering acidic remnant that stayed in his mouth long after he had swallowed one of the curse’s fingers.

He might have spared you your fate.

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He was bored.

It was boring in Itadori Yuuji’s subconscious. The boy was as empty-headed as he seemed and the scheming King of Curses could only look on as the fool fell into one trap after another, made misstep after misstep while he stumbled his way forward, trying to navigate the Jujutsu sorcerer’s life.

It was a cringeworthy affair.

Sukuna had laid his plans carefully and could only drum his fingers on his throne of skulls restlessly as he waited for them to come to fruition. But he was never as dangerous as he was when he was bored. When he had energy to spare and time to kill. When he was on the lookout for some sport, some prey that could satisfy his instinct to hunt, something to toy with, to devour.

When you arrived out of nowhere, coughing your lungs out, on hands and knees in the bloodied water surrounding the area - your limbs shaking as you struggled to support yourself, weak with what must have been centuries of disuse, his eyes glittered with malicious anticipation.

For once, the idiot had done something right.

You coughed and hacked as if seeking to free your body from something it had long grown unaccustomed to - breath. Life. Motion. Thought. Terrible, terrible things.

You recalled your last, conscious thought when faced with an aging, balding monk. The strange man had carried with him a rosary around his neck and attached to the string of beads was what had oddly resembled an ogre’s thumb. You hadn’t the slightest clue what the monk had wanted from you until he sealed you into the ogre’s thumb - an intentional, cruel irony on the buddhist’s part.

“Go to your master, demon!” He had shrieked.

Master.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you shuddered at the very thought. The monk must have thought he was being clever. Sealing you in a fashion resembling the way the King of Curses had been sealed, but Sukuna was not your master.

You had scarcely been freed of the terrifying demon’s presence, barely been able to dream of a life outside of his paralyzing, horrifying shadow that the accursed monk had appeared to seal you away to a slumber of many thousand years.

No matter.You were free now.

By some miracle, the seal had been broken and you would live in a world where Sukuna had been sealed away somewhere far from you. You would stay away from humans and jujutsu sorcerers and society as a whole. Find a deserted scrap of nature, and live out your days among the plants and animals in peace somewhere.

That was a good plan, you told yourself, straining to breathe slowly and deeply, your eyes still pressed shut because seeing anything at all was overwhelming to your senses after their long rest. It would be alright. Your suffering was over.

“Well, well, well.”

The voice sent a shiver down your spine. You would recognize it anywhere. The deep baritone that seemed to make your very bones rattle.

“What do we have here?” Uncomfortably warm breath brushed against the shell of your ear as he spoke on a hiss.

You saw him clearly in your mind’s eye, his image brought into sharp relief, triggered by the sound of his awful voice that sent a flood of unadulterated, gut-wrenching terror through your body. Your body’s reaction to him was one of instinct, a reaction learned.

It was possible to forget one’s love and similarly, to neglect one’s hatred. But one could never forget what one truly feared. Fear was not stored in hearts or minds, but contained in the body itself. In every inch of your skin, every ounce of your flesh. Fear was intermingled with your blood, a part of your very being. Your mind may have slept, and you, a curse, had no need for your superfluous heart - but your body remembered. Your body would always remember.

When you finally dared to turn, the sight that met your eyes was precisely the one your mind had conjured. He sat perched on a mountain of skulls, some fresh and whole, some decayed and crumbling, but you knew they represented only a fraction of the lives the curse had taken. He was draped in a robe that seemed made for royalty, or perhaps it only seemed that way because of the individual they clothed. The King of Curses exuded an aura that was every bit that of the king he was known as. His hair was pale-pink, his eyes narrowed and sharp, the scarlet irises the very shade of the deluge of blood you had seen him spill in your lifetime. Much of it yours.

Black markings traced his form - on his face, his wrists, his arms, just like you remembered, and the sharp, long black nails on his hands made you shiver with the memory of how easily they could draw blood, puncturing through your skin like it was paper.

“S- Sukuna-sama…” Your barely audible whisper, wavering with sheer horror rang in his ears like the sweetest praise. He liked you already.

When he had spoken, it had sounded as if he had been just behind you, and so you were stunned to see him at such a distance. The corners of his lips were curved in a smirk, his sharp canines peeking through as he lounged on his grotesque throne, his head leaning languidly against the knuckles of his right hand. He looked amused.

Amused was good, you thought numbly, trying to reason with yourself through your terror. His amusement manifested itself in some cruel mockery of mercy on occasion. It was his boredom that terrified you. The things he had done to you when bored defied imagination.

You shuddered and your mouth opened and closed wordlessly, incapable of producing sound, incapable of taking breath. The minute you had thought yourself free of him you had been taken captive, and the minute you had been released from your captivity, you were confronted, once again, with your worst nightmare. There seemed to be no escaping for you. You were hounded by the worst fortune the universe had deemed fit to produce.

You were a minor curse, born of the grudge of the inhabitants of a village that had been wiped out by none other than the King of Curses himself. The dying breaths and resentment of those villagers had accumulated with bitter hatred and you came to be. For reasons, you could not fathom - perhaps because the villagers’ grudge was rooted in righteous human indignance - you maintained a form like that of a mortal woman and had scarcely any powers that you knew of. Mortals could hear you cry, you knew. But that was the extent of your abilities, and you had no desire to spend an eternity haunting hapless humans.

By virtue of your birth, you were compelled to seek Sukuna out, desiring revenge, the force of the villagers’ dark emotions driving you forward. But the minute you had come face to face with him, your resolve had abandoned you. Your cursed energy flickered like the flame of a candle in the midst of a hurricane and you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you were out of your depth.

You had sought to escape, but he had seen you. Had begged for forgiveness, but he did not know the meaning of the word. You had screamed for mercy, and he had laughed, asking you to repeat the entreaty - but louder. He had shivered in pleasure at the sound. You would never forget it.

But his eyes now were merely aglow in mirth and anticipation - not recognition. There was a chance, however slim, that he had not recognized you. Indeed, despite tormenting you for centuries, much time seemed to have passed since then, and he had never truly held you in any form of regard even when you had been by his side. You were a thing to him, never a person. Something to relieve the boredom. An unbreakable toy - the very best kind. And as with all things unbreakable, he had tested that claim in every way possible.

“My, my…” he drawled, a chuckle rumbling from his chest. “You recognize me?”

And it was those words, more than anything else, that gave you hope. If he did not remember you, perhaps you could escape. Perhaps you could find freedom. Perhaps you could offer him something worth your release.

You did not even attempt to voice an answer - you were having enough difficulty breathing - and were afraid to provoke recognition. Your eyes darted around the area, taking in your surroundings, but there seemed to be nothing but the watery blood pooled on the ground which you were currently on all fours in - the throne of skulls, and surrounding that, a thick mist veiling whatever lay beyond.

You knew from experience that you could not hope to outrun him, but what other option did you have but to try? What could you possibly do to save yourself?

“Not answering?”A voice murmured in your ear again, “Rude.”

You whirled around to face him with a gasp, sure you would find him hovering just over you and fell to the ground with a splash, drenching your clothes in bloody water.

Panting, your eyes searched for him, but were surprised to find that he was nowhere near you, still reclining on his throne with that same bemused smirk.

You collected yourself as best you could, and turned to face him as you lowered your head in humility, bowing low in the hopes that your hair would hide your face from view. Feed into his ego, you told yourself. That was your only hope. Show him how terrified you were, how great you believed him to be - with any luck, he might just eat it up and let you go.

But when had luck ever been on your side? Not once, from the moment you were born.

“Please accept my apologies,” you choked out in a raspy voice, hoarse from disuse. “Where exists the fool who does not recognize the great King of Curses?” You took a deep breath, and cleared your throat, forcing yourself to go on. “My Lord, please forgive my disrespect, this humble servant dared not speak in your presence.”

You spoke in a low voice, hoping to disguise it as much as possible.

“Oh?” there was an echo of ominous amusement in the single syllable that did not bode well for you.

“I meant not to intrude, Great King. Please,” your forehead hovered just above the water as your palms met in front of you, your arms trembled too violently to truly carry your weight. “Please allow me to leave.”

A sinister chuckle fell from his lips. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Please,” you repeated in a tremulous voice, unable to utter anything but the simple word.

He hummed in mirth, your desperate plea little more than a joke to him. “Asking me for mercy, you must not know me as well as you had me believe.”

When you refused to answer, he smirked at your quivering form, “Do you know where you are right now?”

Hesitantly, you slowly raised your head to take in your surroundings again. You’ve never been in a place like this. Was it some kind of innate domain?

A sensation swept over you, little more than a whiff of air, and suddenly your gaze fell on a pair of black Tabi clad feet in Zori sandals. Before you could move, protest, or even think you felt the weight of the rough, thick sole of one of the sandals on the back of your head.

You should have known better than to cry out, after everything you had been through. Your instinct should have told you to hold your breath rather than waste it on a scream and so, you could only curse yourself for a fool when your sharp cry was cut off on the gurgling sound of your face being pressed into the shallow, sanguine water you knelt in. You pressed your mouth shut, panic seizing your limbs as you thrashed and sought to free yourself. The more you struggled, the more weight Sukuna placed on the back of your head, leaning forward now, one forearm draped across his knee as he chuckled at your plight.

“I warned you once already,” he spoke over the splashing sounds of your struggles. “That it is rude not to answer when spoken to.” He watched your desperate flailing with an aloof air.

“Having fun?” He teased, watching your movements slow, your limbs growing still as your consciousness started to fade. “Now, now… giving up already? Don’t be such a poor sport.”

He stepped back, freeing you, but you lacked the strength to lift your head. He tutted in disapproval and, nudging your shoulder with a toe of sandal, flipped you over with enough force to send your body flying several feet.

You coughed and sputtered for air, lifting yourself into a seated position with trembling arms.

It was beginning. He didn’t care what you had to say, or what you felt. He only wanted to amuse himself, and he knew no limits in doing so.

Slow footsteps approached and the very heart in your chest froze over with fear. You clenched your eyes shut like a bird of prey in the face of the most fearsome predator.

He knelt down in front of you, peering into your face and you stared more determinedly at the ground, letting your hair veil your features. “Well,” he sneered. “Don’t be boring.”

You lifted your gaze despite yourself, that phrase could not mean anything good for you.

“Run.”

The command served simultaneously as permission, and you staggered to your feet as you stumbled away from him - seeking distance from the most terrifying being you had ever known. Millennia at his side would not suffice for you to grasp the extent of his depravity, the limits of the lengths he would be willing to go to torment you.

The sound of your footsteps splashing through the water echoed throughout the realm as you raced away from him, hoping, praying that you would be allowed to escape - that you could somehow, just once - live a day away from Sukuna. Just one day where you didn’t need to guard each breath like a dragon guarded his treasure.

You slipped past the thick mist, refusing to allow yourself to feel trepidation in the face of the unknown, running faster and faster until the fog passed by in a blur but you only pushed yourself even harder to escape - each step was a step further away from Sukuna, a step towards security. Although you could not hear him in pursuit, that fact gave you no peace - he could be as silent and sure-footed as a panther when he so desired.

When you felt the mist thin, some small relief tingled in the back of your head. Maybe, by some miracle, he would allow you to escape? Perhaps he was bored of you and your presence. Perhaps he wanted to be on his own. It wasn’t unthinkable, was it? Freedom beckoned.

You crashed into a tall, solid figure and nearly lost your footing. You looked up in horror, to find Sukuna grinning down at you, arms crossed over his chest. Beside him, the throne of skulls, and surrounding the two of you - the same crimson water. You raised a hand to your mouth to stifle a sob. This couldn’t be happening.

You forced yourself to your feet and turned on your heel to race back into the mist but this time, you didn’t get far. Sukuna caught you by the hair, jerking your head backwards. You cried out in alarm, but he only smirked in response, pulling your head further back.

“You had your chance, little one, but you ran right back into my arms,” he chuckled. “Guess this is where you want to be, hm?”

You sputtered protests, denials, on a thin, desperate wail, tears pooled in your eyes and streamed down your face as he jerked your head further back, bringing your gaze to his own.

He seemed taken aback, for a fraction of an instant, as his eyes widened.

“ You .” The single syllable was spoken in accusation, recognition - and surprise.

He released his hold on your hair and stepped back with a laugh. He pressed a hand to his forehead and shook his head, amused beyond measure. He waved a hand at you.

“You wanted to run? Go ahead. Run.”

Unable to understand why recognizing you had prompted such an unprecedented act of mercy, you wasted not another moment and dashed back into the mist - only to step back into the clearing moments later. You turned back into the fog again - and again and again, but no matter how many times you ran from the clearing, every path led right back to Sukuna’s side. Each time you stepped back into the clearing, Sukuna smirked at you, waiting patiently.

By the fifth time you stepped into the clearing you pressed your hands to your temples and sank to your knees with a scream. There was no way out.

Sukuna stalked towards you and you made no attempt to evade when he reached out and cupped your chin, lifting your eyes towards his own blood-red irises, a grin on his lips as his eyes traced your features. Sobs trembled from your lips as tears streamed from your eyes, streaking down your cheeks, dripping from his fingers and falling to the scarlet waters below.

“Now, there’s a familiar face,” he crooned. “You sure have some sorry luck. But you’re the one who came to me first, wasn’t it?”

“The village -” you stammered. “It was the villagers - I didn’t - I wouldn’t -”

“ Didn’t, wouldn’t ,” he mocked. “Breathe deep now, nice and slow, let’s hear your pathetic excuses, shall we?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stem the tears, struggling to regulate your breathing, before you mumbled, “The villagers’ resentment sent me, I would have never dared. Sukuna-sama, you know I would never have dared stand before you.”

“Village?” he scraped one long, black fingernail down the side of your face. “What village?”

He didn’t remember. Of course he didn’t. That village he had ruined - only one of many to him, apparently - would scarcely register in his mind.

“Forgive me,” you voiced instead in a hushed whisper. “I did not intend any disrespect.”

“No,” he smirked in agreement, and there was something ruthless and cutting in the expression. “And yet you ended up here again. There has to be something to it, no? Isn’t that what they call ‘fate’?”

It was. That was precisely what they would call it. The cruelest fate there was.

His lips curved further into a sneer, his sharp canines glimmering in the dim light, as his eyes lit up with a diabolical expression. “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who betrayed me. The reason I was sealed.”

Horror flooded through you. A Sukuna who wanted to amuse himself with you was terrifying, but a Sukuna who wanted to punish you, to get revenge on you, would be worse than hell itself. You couldn’t allow him to believe it!

“Sukuna-sama!” You clung to his arm, meeting his gaze imploringly. “I would never betray you! Please, I - !” You could make any number of wild claims - you could claim to be loyal to him, you could claim to love him, you could claim to respect him - but only one claim would actually soothe his nerves and please him, that much, at least, you knew.

“I fear you far too much to ever betray you!”

“Is that so?” he drew back, and kicked one of the skulls lying beside him into the air and caught it smoothly in one hand, his long, black nails contrasting against the pale grey of the animal skull. Breaking off one of the animal’s horns, he turned it in his fingers thoughtfully, as if considering it from all angles, before that crimson gaze turned back to pierce right through you.

“Prove it.” He tossed the sharp horn towards you and you caught it unthinkingly.

“Gouge out your eye, and I’ll believe you weren’t the one who sold me out.”

“My - my eye?” You blinked at him, praying he wasn’t serious - but you knew better. He leaned against the tower of skulls and crossed his arms, bored.

You stared at the horn in horror. How could you gouge out your own eye? You felt those familiar tremors afflicting your hand and you reached up with a second hand to better steady yourself.

“Is that too much for you?” He crossed over towards you and trailed one sharp fingernail lazily down your throat, before flitting over your collarbones. His finger slipped between the folds of your robe before resting just above your heart. Sukuna pressed against the skin there and a dribble of blood leaked down your chest as a sharp fingernail broke through the skin.

“Pierce your heart, then. Punish the lying organ and I’ll be satisfied.”

Your lip trembled in horror. Take out your eye, suffer immense pain, and live - or pierce your heart and die?

“Well, what’ll it be?”

You lifted the curved horn in your hand and trailed the pad of your thumb over the ridges of the bone. Testing the tip, you noted with some small relief that it was fairly sharp. Living meant living through more of Sukuna’s torture. Dying was clearly the better option.

You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the horn firmly in your fist, ignoring the way your hand trembled. There were worse things Sukuna could do to you. There were always worse things he could do.

You lifted your hand high into the air and refused to acknowledge the way your entire arm quivered violently. If you lost your nerve, and didn’t pierce deeply enough the first time - would you have to do it again? It was better to have to do it just the once - who knew if you could collect yourself enough for a second attempt?

That meant using all of your strength. Even as you worked through your thoughts, battling your mind’s instinct of self-preservation, your arm remained in the air for what felt like hours as you struggled to build up the nerve to do what he had asked.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” Sukuna yawned, lifting a hand to his mouth. “Or would you rather just confess and accept punishment instead?”

You would not. Whatever he had in store for you, it was surely worse than what you were being ordered to do. Your hand plunged downwards and the tip of the horn pierced through skin and flesh, before being deflected by your bones. You screamed in agony as the horn fell from your grip and blood gushed from your wound.

Your ribs. Your ribs had been in the way. And now you would have to do it all over again.

You pressed both hands to the wound in an attempt to stem the blood as a pained, undying scream pierced through the air, seemingly endlessly. Sukuna winced as he cleared his ear with an index finger as if blocking out the annoying noise.

“Well, don’t give up.” He gestured to the horn poking out of the water. “You almost made it. Come on, you can do it.”

You stared at him in horror, blood still gushing forth between your fingers. Even as your mind obediently worked out how to continue. Now that you knew where your ribs were, it would only be one further attempt, slightly above the bone, and this ordeal would be behind you.

Just one more time.

Once more, and he would see you as a toy again, possibly, but no longer an enemy. Once again. Clenching your teeth against the pain, you reached with trembling fingers for the horn, blood streaming forth more fervently as you bent down.

You did not allow yourself time to think or hesitate, knowing you would lose your nerve if you did. Shutting off your mind, you pierced the horn straight into your own heart and blinding, mind-shattering pain burst through your body. Blood dripped from your lips as you stumbled backwards, lost your footing and collapsed into the water.

There was a buzzing in your ears associated with your fading consciousness as blood gushed out of the wound with every beat of your heart, interrupted only by shrill laughter. Blinking through the blurry haze, you saw Sukuna doubled over with laughter, nearly in hysterics.

“You actually did it! You idiot!” His shoulders shook with mirth, and he wiped a tear from his eye. “Did you seriously think you could ever be important enough to betray me? Do you honestly think anything you could do could result in me being sealed? Are you a simpleton?”

He cackled endlessly, his cold, shrill laughter ringing in your ears as you bled out. “What a fool…” he chuckled, crossing over to you. “What do you think you are? Entertaining illusions of self-importance.”

He was still laughing, even as he reached down to cup your face, squeezing your cheeks and turning your face from side to side. “What an idiot,” he snickered.

You were going so numb, you couldn’t even feel his fingers on your face, and his cruel expression was fading from view. Maybe you were an idiot, but at least now you would finally be dead. Dead and free of him. That wasn’t so bad, you thought to yourself. It was the first and last kindness he had ever done for you.

His face was blurring in and out of your vision, and you were waiting for the moment it would settle to black. The moment you would never have to see his face again, but the blurriness receded and his face reappeared in startling clarity. This was wrong, it was all wrong. Why were you seeing him? Even in death? Was there a hell after all, and had you gone to it?

You slowly grew conscious of Sukuna’s hand on your chest and his cursed energy flooding into you, sealing the wound you had gouged open, closing the flesh you had stabbed apart, healing the organ that refused to let you die.

“No,” you sobbed. “No, no, no, please…” You lifted weary hands to your face and wept miserably, your shoulders shaking. “Please, just let me die.”

Sukuna tutted in response, “Where’s the fun in that? Don’t disappoint me now, you were doing so well.”

You were alive again. Your body healed. Only your mind was still addled by the pain you had forced it through. You blinked up at Sukuna and couldn’t find the strength to bring yourself to move.

He cocked his head to the side as he observed you. “What should I do with you?” His smirk was slow and salacious. “I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.” Another low chuckle rumbled from his chest.

You couldn’t find words to answer him as he tugged at the silk belt holding your robes closed until the layers of fabric loosened and fell apart. His eyes roamed down your chest, over the swell of your breasts, the dip of your navel, he traced one sharp, long fingernail along your ribs. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He muttered, “Have you been keeping yourself for me?”

You didn’t know why the unspoken implication, the assumption that you might have intimately known anyone at all other than Sukuna in the duration of your miserable existence made your skin crawl. You swallowed thickly. “I was sealed,” you stammered in response. “Same as you.”

He snorted at that. “You really do have the worst luck. I almost feel bad for you.”

He trailed a single finger up your breast, grazing past the nipple in a mockery of a caress. “Then again, you could think you were made for me. Born from that stupid village’s grudge. Being sealed away with me and finally waking up, only to come right back to my side. You’re my plaything aren’t you?”

You whimpered in response. Not wanting to confirm his statement and make him even more reluctant to ever release you, but also not wanting to deny it and provoke punishment. “You remember the village?” You asked breathlessly instead, staring numbly up at the gargantuan ribcage spread out as some kind of makeshift ceiling. His earlier behavior had given you the impression he had forgotten entirely. Or maybe it had simply taken him some time to recall when your twisted relationship had begun.

“Of course I do,” he sneered. “I remember everyone I’ve killed. It’s only normal to cling to good memories.”

Your eyes slipped towards him. Was that true? Was that really how he felt? You felt foolish even doubting it. After everything that had happened to you, nothing should surprise you anymore.

You felt a hand close around your throat and lift you up into the air. You were too weak to resist, and not foolish enough to attempt it. You could only watch him from beneath a veil of thick lashes as he tugged your robes from your shoulders, allowing them to fall to the ground and soak up the bloodied water.

You shuddered in his grip. There was nothing you could do but allow him to have his way with you. If you were quiet enough, pliant enough, perhaps there was a chance you could avoid the worst of the pain you knew he liked to inflict.

His gaze was no longer on your tormented expression as you gasped for air, but devouring every inch of flesh exposed to his seeking gaze. It had been centuries since he had last seen you. Before he had been sealed, he had made no bones about taking what he wanted from whoever he wanted, but there had always been something peculiar about you.

Was it the fear in your eyes that never seemed to diminish no matter how many times he took you? Was it the submissive way you gave yourself up to him, hoping for mercy although you should have known him well enough to know that he scoffed at the very idea? Or was it something else entirely? Was it the familiarity? Mortal women could only take so much before the life went out of them. He never returned to them, he wouldn’t have even if that had been an option. Even if there had been something left of their mangled bodies to fuck. Why return to something old and used when there was always new, live prey on the horizon? Dead women didn’t scream, dead women weren’t afraid.

But you.

You never feared him any less, no matter how long he had held you prisoner. Your screams never died out. He could push you farther than he had ever pushed anyone else and not only would you not die, but you would only submit to him ever more determinedly. As if that had ever done you any good before.

Home was a foolish, mortal concept, he could never understand the appeal of, but as his claws traced along your flesh, inadvertently drawing blood wherever he was careless, he had to admit that there was something intoxicating about the return to the familiar. About reclaiming a body that he knew well. A body, he noted with dim satisfaction, that had never known anyone’s touch but his own.

You might be nothing more than a plaything for his amusement, but you were his all the same. He really ought to reward Itadori for so thoroughly alleviating his boredom.

Despite how willing you had been to die only moments earlier, you weakly raised a hand to his forearm, resting it there in a desperate, wordless plea for breath.

He glanced briefly at your tear-filled eyes, your rosy lips parted for air that would not come, and your reddening complexion - before ignoring you entirely and continuing his exploration of your body. Two hands pried his own robes open as a third came up to fondle your breast, pinching the nipple cruelly between his fingers, causing a pained squeak to leave your lips with what little air you could manage.

Your eyes rolled back in your head and Sukuna sighed, “Air is such a ridiculous thing to depend on.” He licked upwards against your nipple and noted how you shuddered in his grip, before going limp. “Hey. Hang on a little longer. Aren’t you supposed to be a curse?”

Curse or no, you were losing consciousness and that would not do. It just wasn’t the same when you weren’t begging him to stop and screaming when he refused to listen. Clawing to get away from him, and shuddering violently when you orgasmed against your will. No, he could not have you unconscious.

Reluctantly, he released your throat and caught you by the waist when you slumped forward, your chin resting on his shoulder despite yourself. It was a mockery of affection. It looked almost romantic, if one did not consider the circumstances.

“Oi,” he chided you. “Isn’t this just cute?”

He trailed a black talon up your spine and you shuddered against him. You knew it was utter stupidity and probably disrespect to lean on him this way, but you were having difficulty collecting yourself. After your near death experience and the oxygen deprivation, your limbs tingled as sensation slowly returned. You only needed to pull yourself together and apologize. That was all. Just as soon as you found the strength to.

But his body was so warm and solid. So firm. When he wasn’t hurting you, you were reminded of the fact that his presence was the only constant you had ever known. Wasn’t he almost like your home at this point? His touch filled you with trepidation, made you tremble violently, made your heart riot fitfully in your chest in fear of the pain that would doubtless follow and yet - for that split second before the pain began… wasn’t there something almost comforting about his touch? You wished there was a way to prolong the interim. The fleeting moment between being deprived of his touch and being impaled by it. That fleeting instant was almost pleasant.

He guided your thighs around his waist and you crossed your legs around him obediently, fearful of what he might do to you if you failed to comply. The memory of being impaled to a wall so he might more easily have his way with you was still fresh in your mind.

His hand dug into your hair and jerked your head brutally backwards, looking down on you through narrowed, mischievous eyes. The other pair of eyes was shut, dormant on his cheekbones. You caught your breath, fearful of what would follow. He had said he wanted to reward you, but there was never a clear distinction between reward and punishment with Sukuna.

“You aren’t going soft on me now, are you? I’m expecting a lot from you.” His low murmur made you shudder involuntarily as his warm breath caressed your face. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just by your ear. “Don’t disappoint me.”

You gasped as you felt something warm and wet against your womanhood, only realizing in that moment that, in the way you were clinging to him, your most intimate area was pushed up against his stomach shamelessly. In horror, you dropped your gaze to find a horizontal slit had opened across his abdomen and that a large tongue, dripping with saliva had appeared and was probing your nether regions, pushing urgently past your lips to explore you thoroughly.

Sukuna observed your reactions with amusement as the tongue prodded harshly against your clit and journeyed up and down in its explorations before poking past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance. You clung more tightly to Sukuna’s neck as the impossibly thick tongue lapped at your inner walls, eager and insistent, thrusting further in than you would have thought possible. With more vehemence than you could remember.

“Surprised?” Sukuna chuckled. “My, aren’t you forgetful.”

You bit your lip to keep from crying out in pleasure as the tongue wriggled its way further inside of you, poking at your cervix. You could not hope to distance yourself from it without falling and you were certain that would provoke Sukuna’s displeasure, so you held onto him desperately and allowed yourself to be molested by his tongue, biting your lip as you held out until it bled.

Sukuna’s hands roamed your body all the while, your lust-dazed mind could barely follow along, barely registering where he touched you as the coil of heat tightened within your body with every insistent thrust of his tongue. Sukuna lifted your chin and licked away the blood collecting on your lower lip. Your irises were blown wide with lust as you clung to his shoulders, and he trailed his thumb over your lip.

“If you hold back your voice,” he chastised in a voice that was both threatening and seductive - like thick, black poison. “I’ll have no choice but to make you scream.” A lone, sharp black fingernail trailed down the nape of your neck, breaking the surface of your skin ever so slightly. A clear warning.

“Sukuna-sama…” you mewled, both in complaint and in surrender.

His hands toyed with your breasts, long nails scraping over your areolae. One hand rolled a pert nipple between his fingers with deceptive gentleness, before pinching it mercilessly, painfully. A mouth had appeared on his other hand and sucked harshly on your breast, not letting up in the slightest until you feared he would break the skin and leave you bleeding. The other two hands squeezed your buttocks as you writhed against him in response to his ministrations. His grip was bruising and cruel, you could feel blood pool and trickle down your skin where his claws had pierced your flesh.

You moaned out his name repeatedly, not daring to fall silent for fear of the consequences it could bring as the tongue within you curled upwards, roughly stroking a spongy patch of flesh within you that made you lightheaded, each movement of the thick, wet muscle straining your inner walls. The heat pulsing through your body intensified by the second, driving you higher and higher until you crashed and fell, his name leaving your lips in a breathless cry. Your inner walls convulsed and spasmed around the tongue still burrowed deep within you.

“Hurrying on ahead on your own, are you?” Sukuna accused, but he didn’t seem displeased. At least, you hoped he wasn’t.

You had not sufficiently descended from your high to be fully conscious of your surroundings, still clinging weakly to Sukuna’s neck when he took hold of your hips and pulled you away from himself, you felt his thick tongue slip out from between your legs and inhaled sharply at the loss of contact. Before you could so much as think, however, Sukuna tossed you bodily backwards, causing you to land roughly on the tower of animal skulls.

You cried out in pain as the many horns poked and pierced you in various places, you couldn’t even number your injuries, so scattered was your mind. Sukuna cocked his head to the side and watched your blood drip out over the pale bones and admired the contrast.

You held still, like a rabbit in the face of a lion, as he stalked closer with all the grace of an experienced predator. “Why is your blood this way?” he mused, watching it streak down your skin in rivulets.

“Pretty.”

You gaped at him. You felt warm and lightheaded at the compliment. It was your blood, you reminded yourself. Not you. Your blood that he found pretty. How out of your mind must you be, to be so foolishly flattered by that statement. But you were. There was no denying it. It dulled the pain, to know he was enjoying the sight.

He let his robes fall to the floor as he approached you further still. Your eyes trailed down his form, before stopping with horror at the girth between his legs. How could you have forgotten that ? He was larger than you, stronger than you, faster than you - you had never had a chance of escaping him in the past. You shuddered as you recalled the first time he had impaled you - no other word did the act justice - you recalled how you had bled, your flesh torn from the intrusion. A similar horror caused you to whimper in fear now, unable to tear your eyes away as he stroked his thick cock confidently, not even his large hands able to completely close around its thickness. Nudging your ankle with the toe of his sandal, he nodded at you. “Spread your legs for me.”

You should have complied. You knew it. It would have made everything easier if he didn’t need to be rough with you. If he didn’t punish you. But the fear of having something so huge shoved between your legs, of tearing you up again the way you had multiple times in the past, you couldn’t help but squirm, squeezing your thighs together as your mouth went dry and your lips parted, seeking words that might invoke mercy.

“Sukuna-sama, please, I…” but you didn’t know what else to say and so you gazed up at him, your eyes filling with tears, as you struggled to speak around the choked sobs threatening to tear free from your throat.

Sukuna smirked, but his eyes flashed dangerously. “Look around you,” he instructed. “What is keeping you from becoming one of them?”

You turned your head to the side obediently, your gaze skimming over countless skulls, some animal, some human, but most of the skulls merely remnants from other curses.

“You amuse me,” Sukuna drawled, towering over you. “That is all you have to your name.”

The implication was clear, that he would not hesitate to tear your head from your body and add your skull to his collection the moment you ceased to be amusing.

You swallowed thickly and forced yourself to separate your trembling thighs. To make yourself available to him. Your hands gripping at anything to better steady yourself, you were horrified to find a smooth skull beneath your seeking palms but held on anyway.

Two hands gripped your inner thighs and shoved them apart roughly, causing you to cry out in surprise and discomfort. With a sneer, Sukuna descended upon you, a third hand closing around your throat and applying controlled pressure. Judging by the fact that you could still breathe, you knew he was holding back, and as you met his ruthlessly gleaming eyes, you understood the game he would be playing. Air would be the reward, and whether or not you were permitted to breathe, would depend on how well you did.

As he applied more pressure to your throat you forced your legs wider, desperate to appear compliant, and the hand on your throat loosened.

“Clever little thing,” Sukuna purred, and the praise swept through your veins like liquid honey.

The last of his free hands found its way between your thighs and you held your breath in fear that one of those sharp claws would tear open your skin. When he toyed with your bundle of nerves, you wanted to scream in terror, knowing how badly he could hurt you with a twitch of his fingers and how little he would think of it. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting him to continue, not wanting him to stop.

Sukuna drank in every one of your expressions greedily. Whether your eyes were unfocused with lust, or wide with terror, each emotion of yours was equally satiating to him. If he was more partial to your fear that did not mean he could not appreciate his own skill in driving you to pleasure despite your open terror.

When his long, thick fingers pushed past your entrance, you sucked in a cold breath. Forgetting yourself, you breathed his name on a reverent exhale that was almost worship. He did not slow, or pause, preparing your body for him with an almost methodic rhythm. But if your eyes hadn’t been squeezed shut in that moment, you would have spied the confusion flitting briefly through his crimson irises. Would have seen the curious way he regarded you.

He positioned himself at your entrance and you felt his member prodding your core. The haze of lust cleared instantly, giving way to blind terror. There was no way he would fit. Regardless of the fact that he had, many times before. Forgetting yourself, cold dread settled in your stomach and you scrambled backwards, trying to inch away from him as you shook your head.

Sukuna’s gaze lifted to yours and his eyes narrowed in displeasure. Two hands gripped your thighs more firmly, as the pressure of a third hand intensified on your neck in a cruel reminder of how fully you were at his mercy. But fear had overcome your mind and you could not talk yourself down.

“No, no, no, no…” you whimpered pitifully. “Please, please don’t - “

Before you could speak another word, Sukuna ruthlessly pulled on your thighs, bringing your entire body towards him and impaling you on his member without warning. A shrill scream echoed through the realm as a painful fullness, the feeling of your walls being forced to stretch wider than should be physically possible overwhelmed your body.

“Stop! Stop, please, I’m going to -”

But there was no stopping, nor had he ever intended to. If anything, your pained cries only spurred him on. You realized suddenly that his hold on your neck had not tightened, and that the only reason for that could be because he enjoyed your screaming, because he liked you begging. That he liked it almost as much as he relished denying you the mercy you wept for.

The realization set you to tears and you held onto his thick wrist as thrust into you, your whole body sinking deeper into the mountain of skulls with each thrust until you feared you would be buried alive.

“Sukuna-sama…” you sobbed, knowing your cries were falling on deaf ears.

He hummed in approval, and ran a hand through his hair as he smirked at you. “Go on, don’t stop. Let it all out.”

And your fears were confirmed. He got off on your screams. He got off on your pain. You had always known it, but your long sleep must have dulled your senses. You wept incessantly, wiping at your tears as he continued pounding into you, for all his efforts, still only halfway there. You were sure he was going to split you in two. Sure you would not survive this. You could feel your lining stretched thin and pulsing against him in protest. This could not end well. As much as you told yourself you had survived this, many times before, you could not help but feel that the stretch was unbearable, unreal - impossible.

Sukuna’s grip on your thighs provided the leverage needed to reach the depth he sought, as he wondered how many more whimpers and confused moans he could tear from you. He wondered if he could make you cry enough to wash the blood from the skulls beneath you. He pulled you in towards himself as he thrust into you again and again and again. Almost there. So close.

As he yanked on your thighs brutally once more, a distinct, sickening popping sound met your ears along with a blinding, searing pain that raced through your hip.

Your eyes shot wide open as a shrill, agonized scream burst from your throat. Even Sukuna paused in his relentless abuse of your core and that fact - more than anything else - terrified you.

Shaking with dread you looked down, only to find your left leg hanging uselessly from your side. You looked up at Sukuna in horror, as if asking him what to do, but he did not meet your eyes, staring curiously at your leg instead. He poked at your leg and it shifted lifelessly at his touch, causing a branding pain to shoot through you anew. You bit your lip and stifled an agonized shriek of pain.

“Sukuna-sama…” you pleaded miserably, sweat beading on your forehead.

He shoved lightly at your leg again, jostling it somewhat harder than the first time and a shriek of pain exploded from you as you pressed a hand to your mouth, groaning in agony.

Now his gaze did lift towards you as a slow smirk spread across his lips.

“P- please,” you begged, your eyes lifted towards his imploringly. “Please, help me.”

“Mmm,” he mused, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head as he continued where he had left off, although at a slower pace. “One thing at a time, sweetheart.”

Your mind was already fuzzy from the immense, unbearable pain coursing through your body. The term of endearment only addled your senses further. Sweetheart? It was your pain, you assumed. Every new height of pain you endured for his sake, the fonder he seemed to grow of you. You glanced down at your useless leg again. You gritted your teeth. You could take it.

“Hang in there,” he teased, pushing slowly but firmly into you, the movement causing fresh agony to course through you. He hovered over you, bringing his lips close to your ear, he angled his head towards you and took your earlobe gently between his teeth. The touch was so tame and affectionate it sent shivers down your spine. You almost couldn’t believe it was Sukuna’s mouth on your ear. Your earlobe slipped from his teeth as he parted his lips to whisper words of encouragement. “ Ganbare, ganbare. ” He murmured into your ear as he pushed further into your core.

You bit your lip, sweat trailing down your face, and searched his eyes questioningly. The message was clear - take him, take the pain, and he would reward you. He would be proud of you. That alone could be worth it, if he would look at you with pride and admiration, the high of receiving his acknowledgement would be worth it all, wouldn’t it?

You nodded.

His eyes lit up with glee, his grin widening even further, as a low chuckle rumbled from his chest. Where would he ever find someone else like you? Willing to take whatever he threw at you? With the sweetest screams he had ever heard, whimpering his name like a kicked puppy? You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself without him. It was a good thing you had found your way back to him. This was how it was meant to be. You would be lost out there on your own. Probably get yourself killed in the blink of an eye by some more powerful curses or some fumbling Jujutsu sorcerers. No, the best place for you to be was right by his side.

Sure, he might break you sometimes, but he would always be sure to put you back together again after. Could the same be said for anyone else? Surely not. After all, you were made for him. Everything about your existence revolved around him. Maybe that was why he tolerated your presence, allowed your existence.

He hammered into you with abandon now, two cruel hands all but crushing your breasts in his merciless grip, as a third squeezed your windpipe allowing you only enough air to cry out in agony, as the fourth hand held your right hip in place - some small mercy to minimize the pain in your left leg - as he rammed into you.

You groaned in pain, gritting your teeth and struggling to hold back the pained cries as your walls slowly, finally, began adjusting to him. The searing pain in your leg rattled your senses, but the pleasure now beginning to course through your veins befuddled your mind until you didn’t know what was what. You couldn’t truly tell the pleasure from the pain - both were blindingly intense, both were driving you out of your mind.

Sukuna’s rhythm intensified, faster, harder, more deranged as he seemed to want to pound right through you and you were certain you would lose consciousness from the dizzying combination of terrible sensation as you heard the sickening sound of skulls tumbling from the towering pile and falling to the waters below as he drove you deeper and deeper into the mountain of bone until your view was obscured by the many skulls that had fallen over you - burying you alive, just as you had feared they would.

The fear, the pain, the pleasure of Sukuna within you, the coiling spiral of heat that only intensified with each thrust, the knowledge of how close he was to you. How the King of Curses relished tormenting you, how he tested you, how special you were to him, in your own way, was a dizzying concoction of delirious euphoria that cast you over the edge of ecstasy, despite yourself, just as Sukuna’s pace stuttered, having reached his climax himself, spilling masses of thick, hot liquid deep inside of you. You felt full, sated, on some cloud far removed from the unending pain and the constant threat of death.

You struggled to catch your breath, to orientate yourself, completely forgetting why you could not see. You felt sharp, long fingernails graze past your hip and a jolt of pain passed through you as the bone settled back into place and the surrounding flesh slowly healed, causing your pain to fade into nothingness. Sukuna’s fingers lingered, tracing lazy circles on your hip, sending his cursed energy into your body long after your injury was fully healed.

At length, he drew back, taking hold of your hand and pulling you out of the pile of bone you had found yourself trapped under. You fell against his chest and he stroked your hair behind your ear, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear that were so uncharacteristic you could scarcely believe what you were hearing.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his nails trailing along your scalp, digging through your hair. His lips met your jawline, trailing hot, bruising kisses along your flesh. Your whole body trembled at the affection you were so utterly ill-prepared for, so wholly unaccustomed to. “You’ve been such a good girl, haven’t you?”

You did not know what to think, or what to say. In that moment, escape was the farthest thing from your mind. You wished he would go on holding you that way, stroking your hair, running a hand up and down your back as he whispered praise into your ear that made you want to melt into a puddle.

Leave Sukuna? Never. Why would you want to?

He didn’t stop. His lips found all your weaknesses as he held you up. Two strong arms, supporting your weight while the other two roamed your body, clearly intent on rewarding you, for once, and not seeking his own pleasure. You felt as if you were a guest in your own body, so foreign was the experience. His seeking mouth on your body, leaving dark bruises everywhere it lingered, a second mouth smirking open on the hand he had pressed between your legs. A third hand massaging the nape of your neck.

You were putty in his hands. You had never known that Sukuna was capable of providing such pleasure. You trembled from head to toe as your mind dimly registered a disconcerting thought. What could you possibly do to earn this reward again? What wouldn’t you do to earn this reward again?

He pulled one orgasm after another from you, not waiting for you to come down from the peak of ecstasy before continuing with his ministrations sending you tumbling headfirst into another. It was a different kind of torture, but one you couldn’t bring yourself to resent in the slightest.

When he entered you again, patiently, slowly, allowing you to adjust to him bit by bit, you were stunned to find that Sukuna was even capable of taking you in this fashion. It wasn’t his style, you realized. It was simply a courtesy to you, for having taken the pain so well.

The words good girl rained down repeatedly on your ears until you almost believed them, until you realized that, after this, you would do anything to hear them again.

He took you again and again, until you went limp in his arms, prompting a chuckle from his lips. Something about your complete submission had touched him in an uncharacteristic way. And his desire to reward you, well… Sukuna was one who did as he pleased. And if he wanted to be gentle with you for once, why shouldn’t he? The two of you hadn’t seen each other in quite some time, but now that he thought about it, it was a good thing you had been released into his Domain. You belonged with him, clearly. His unbreakable toy. His good girl.

Slowly but surely, he was coming back to his full strength, and when he broke out of here, he would keep you by his side. He wouldn’t limit himself to you, goodness no, but he would keep the others away from you, and allow you to be close to him, the way he did not allow anyone else to be. Because you would go to lengths for him that others would balk at. And who would he be if he did not reward such loyalty?

He stroked your cheek with one long, sharp black finger as he observed your sleeping features with an aloof, thoughtful expression. There was something about you he couldn’t place. A sensation you awakened within him that he did not recognize. He wondered, briefly, if it posed a danger to him, before shaking his head and deciding no, someone as weak as you could never be dangerous for him.

It never occurred to him that he had missed you.

When you awoke at last, Sukuna was once again draped in that white robe, a black shawl wrapped around his neck. He leaned back in his throne, his chin resting against the knuckles of his right hand. You were draped across his lap, fully naked, as his left hand toyed with your hair. He did not seem to acknowledge or even notice your presence as he argued with someone you could not see.

The low, dangerous hum of his voice as he spoke deadly threats you knew he had every intention of carrying out, sent a shudder down your spine, drawing his attention.

His eyes shifted towards you, even as he continued curling a lock of your hair around his index finger and spoke with someone beyond this realm, someone you did not know.

“Don’t waste my time, brat. Why should I help you?”

He was not speaking to you, even though his narrowed eyes were drinking you in. You heard a plea in response, an agonized cry for help, that the person beyond had friends who were dying, that innocent people would be doomed if Sukuna refused his aid.

Sukuna’s eyes caressed every exposed inch of flesh before muttering a gruff response.

“People that weak deserve to die. And if you’re too weak to protect them, then you deserve to watch it happen.”

Sukuna traced a finger across your collarbones and down the valley of your breasts as he spoke. You could feel your heart racing in your chest at his touch.

“I’m busy, brat.” He barked, cutting off the connection. Sukuna turned his attention towards you, and you felt you were surely burning alive under his gaze.

But the boy’s voice returned, echoing throughout the domain. Sukuna growled in his throat in displeasure and you could not help but be concerned for the boy’s fate. He cast you one last, lingering look that seemed to indicate that you should wait for him, that he would return shortly, that he was far from done with you.

You nodded in understanding, and when you felt him slip away, you remained motionless on his throne, eagerly awaiting the moment he would reappear and find you, just as he had left you. Absolutely faithful to the letter and spirit of his command. Waiting to amuse him, to entertain him, to be the very plaything he had claimed you were. Ever faithfully by his side.

After all, where else would you go?

#sukuna x reader #tw noncon #sukuna #jjk #sukuna smut

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Note

I was just playing the mission where they clear out beaver hallow and it made me want to request something where healthy! Arthur rescues a reader in the cave and the aftermath where they fall in love and what not 👀😬🥰 pretty please

Yay, I was so happy to write this one! So happy I went and wrote like 13 pages 🙄 Anyways, enjoy.

Warnings: blood, gore, witnessed rape, but I make it up with a lot of fluff!

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Cold. That’s all you feel. Physically, mentally, emotionally. The entire world has grown cold. How can you believe in warmth and light and love or kindness in a place like this? You’re surrounded by constant darkness, only occasionally broken up by the firelight of torches, hidden somewhere around the bend of the giant pillar holding the ceiling of this massive cavern. If only you could leave, but you’re trapped in this steel cage, the door bound tightly shut by thick ropes.

It’s impossible to say how long you’ve been here. There’s no way for you to tell between night and day, and therefore you haven’t been able to count. It feels like an eternity though. All the others you were with, your brother and his horrible wife and spoiled daughter, they’re all dead. Why you were spared by these murderers is a mystery. Maybe because you were the only grown woman who showed no signs of being spoilt by another man, maybe it was just a random choice.

Not that the others in your caravan were killed immediately. Some of them were, sure, shot down by the rifles in the Murfree’s hands, like your brother for instance. He hadn’t even seen them coming before those men put a bullet in his skull. You, the other women and a few of the men were bound and dragged to their cavern while a few stayed behind to butcher the others. If only their screams were the only ones you heard.

After being dragged into the cavern, the Murfrees took the three of the four men left alive and began to attack them, cutting off bits and pieces of them, gutting one and skinning the other. It was bad enough to hear and see what was happening, but then you watched, held down by a Murfrees boot, as your sister-in-law was stripped, raped and then cut into pieces. Her massacred torso was shoved onto a spike, a warning to travelers of what was waiting for them. She was an evil, horrible person, but she didn’t deserve that.

You and your niece were two of the four left alive. Another woman and the last man were dragged inside. All the women, including your niece, were thrown into this cage while the man was taken somewhere else, apparently meant to be tortured slowly. There was no rhyme or reason to this savage attack, but as time passed and you picked up bits and pieces of the Murfrees talking, you gathered that they viewed this area as their territory and would defend it however they deemed fit, and that was through extreme violence and foul savagery.

As the days passed, though you could not count them for lack of light, the Murfrees began to prey upon the other two women in the cage with you. They picked the oldest one first, dragging her out, shearing her hair off, raping her. Apparently she was too old for their taste and they killed her only a few hours later.

Your niece, though spoiled rotten and one of the worst people you’ve ever known, you would never wish any of this on her. They picked her next. They dragged her from the cage, strapped her to a rack and left her naked. Every once in a while, some of them would gather around her, rape her, cut her, whip her. Her screams were the worst as she was little more than a child. YOu were glad she didn’t last long. But her death meant that it was your turn.

However, the Murfrees haven’t done anything just yet. They’ve come up to the cage, rattled the bars, screamed all sorts of horrible things at you, stuck in their hands to try and grab you, but they haven’t done anything. It’s clear why. This waiting, the anticipation for the inevitable horrors lying ahead for you, is a form of torture. And torture it is. You wished they’d just kill you already.

It’s impossible to say how many tears you’ve shed. Your throat is cracked, dry and painful from the lack of water and the hours you’ve spent screaming for help. Your captors haven’t bothered to offer you food or water, but that’s the last thing you’re worried about. You know they’re capable of far, far worse.

Your niece must have died days ago. They still haven’t bothered to remove her corpse from the rack on the other side of the cavern from your cage. The smell of this place is choking. The stench of her decay, and the decay of other rotting bodies, overwhelms you. That mixed with urine and feces threatens to make you vomit what very little nourishment is left in your stomach.

At one point, a Murfree walks past your cage. You look out with a tear-stained face. “Kill me, please!” you beg.

He just chuckles, showing rotten teeth. “Oh not so fast there, little girl. Your friends died way too quickly. We plan on making you last a while.”

You try to make him angry, to spur him to kill you, but he doesn’t fall for it. You try everything you can think of, but nothing comes of it. They’ve left you in nothing but your underclothes. If you weren’t already so terrified of them raping you and leaving your naked body on display, you’d strip yourself out of your chemise and hang yourself. As time goes on though, that idea becomes more and more appealing. How much longer can you last?

Finally the cave falls silent. There hasn’t been any screams for some time, all their other victims must be dead or incapacitated. The Murfrees are quiet too. Maybe they’re sleeping, or out scouting for fresh blood. This gives you the opportunity to lay on the back wall of the cage that’s right against the pillar, meaning no one can grab you through the bars. Despite the fear and pain in your bruised body, you manage to fall into a light sleep.

Suddenly someone screams out, jerking you awake. It isn’t the scream of someone getting tortured or murdered. There’s words in them.

“Someone’s in the cave!” it says.

You stand up, your heart in your throat. A gunshot echoes through the cavern making you jump out of your skin, and it’s followed by more screams. Murfrees begin to swarm towards the gunshots, screaming and calling out threats. They’re armed with machetes and guns of their own.

After several minutes, the air finally falls silent. Then the face of a man comes into view. You’ve never seen him before. His intelligent eyes glitter from a dark face and he calls behind him.

“There’s someone alive, she’s in a cage.”

All you can think of is that they’re new captors, and that they’re just as bad or possibly worse than the Murfrees. A whimper escapes your lips as you try clinging to the back wall of the cage, looking for somewhere to hide.

The man comes back into view, followed by another man. He wears a leather hat and he slings a gun to his back before approaching.

“S-stay away from me!” you yell out, your voice surprisingly strong.

“It’s okay, we’re here to help,” the white man says. He gets close to the door, despite you pleading for him to leave and then pulls out a knife. You begin screaming, your legs turning to jelly as you sink to the ground in the corner. This is it. You’re going to have a number of unspeakable things done to you and then you’re going to die.

“Shhh, we ain’t gonna hurt ya,” says the man, quickly cutting through the rope that locks your door. He sheaths it immediately and holds his arms up. His voice is soft and gentle.

“Easy, easy. We’re here to help.”

“Please leave me alone,” you sob. Your hands are over your ears as tears sting your eyes. He’s getting closer, causing your heart to beat painfully. Your head drops to your knees so you don’t have to see him anymore, hoping he’ll go away.

Something gently touches your shoulder, but you flinch as though stung. It touches you a little harder, but there’s no pain to it. When you uncover your eyes, you see it’s his hand. Blue eyes meet yours and he talks gently again.

“It’s okay. I’m here to help ya. Gonna get you home.” He slowly gets closer, enveloping his arms around you. Despite your intense fear, you lean into him, burying your face into his chest. He smells good, but that’s in comparison to the foul stench of the cave. Heat emanates from him, allowing you to escape from the cold, and you shiver.

“A’right, let’s get ya outta here.” The man stands up, but you cling to him, suddenly afraid of his absence. Contrary to what you believed a few moments ago, this man represents safety, light, warmth and hope. You cling to his hand, sticking close as he begins walking through the cavern, accompanied by the other man you first saw.

“So, where you from?” your hero asks.

“Valentine. But… but… I don’t…” You blanch as you see the fresh corpses of the Murfrees spread around.

“It’s okay,” he says, squeezing your hand. “They’re all dead. You’re safe.”

You swallow, your lower lip trembling, sticking closer to him as you both walk towards the mouth of the cave. Your feet scrape against the cold rock and small bones of animals that are strewn about. Light hits your eyes suddenly, harsh and painful, causing you to wince. After a moment, you adjust to it and look around the uncomfortably familiar clearing, littered with bodies and broken bits of wagons. You avoid looking at the pike holding what’s left of your sister-in-law.

Your hero stands next to a horse and he looks back at you. “You okay to ride a little? I’ll take ya home.”

You begin shivering and then break into tears, crumpling to the ground. “My family…. There’s…. There’s no one left.”

The man walks over and gently picks you up so you’re standing. He offers himself as a support for you and you lean into him, wishing this was all nothing more than a horrible nightmare.

“You sayin’ you ain’t got a family no more?” he asks softly.

You nod into his shirt. “They’re gone. They’re gone.”

“Well… ya can’t stay here. Let me take ya home, then you can figure out what ya wanna do.”

Slowly, he lifts you onto his horse and then climbs on in front. You cling to him as though your very life depends on it, which it partially does. He bids his companion farewell and then kicks his horse into an easy gallop.

“You okay, miss?” he asks after a few moments.

“They’re… they’re animals!” you say with a harsh sob.

“I know, but you’re safe now.”

“I haven’t slept in days! My family, they killed them!” You bury your head into his back and cry, exhaustion ripping through you. The weight of the last few days is finally slamming into you. All you want to do is curl up and sleep, never to wake up again. Part of you wishes this man would take pity on you and just put a bullet in your head. It would be easier. But amidst your crying, you don’t have the strength to ask him.

He rides on, giving you encouragement every once in a while. When he passes O’Creagh’s Run, you guide him to your cabin, which isn’t too much farther away. Once there, he helps you down from his horse and you stare at the cabin miserably.

This cabin, you thought it had been hell before. After your parents died, you had nowhere to go but your brother’s, with his horrible wife and worse daughter, all of whom are now dead. If you’d had the money, you would’ve left a long time ago. Then, your brother got a job in Boston, which was why you were caravaning up to Annesburg, to board the train and go there. That is what led to you ending up in the Murfree’s clutches.

The cabin lies cold and empty now. Your hero walks up to it with you and you open the door, finding the very little furniture that was left behind, including your rickety bed but it has no blankets. Only the lumpy mattress you slept on. The man looks around, clearly worried about your predicament.

“You sure there ain’t no where else I can take ya, ma’am?”

You shake your head. “I don’t h-have anyone else, mister.”

He sighs and nods, then goes to his horse where he pulls off his bedroll. He hands it to you. “Here. I know it ain’t much, but sounds like you need something warm to sleep in. You gonna be okay?”

Your lip is trembling again and more tears are swelling up, but you nod. He looks at you, his eyes saying he doesn’t believe you.

“Here, why don’t you lay down, try gettin’ some rest. I’ll um, see if I can cook you somethin’ to eat.”

You’re so tired and confused that you can do nothing else but obey him. He sprawls his bedroll on the old mattress and you climb into it. All you want to do is fall asleep now that you’re warm and protected by this stranger, but the memories and the screams come back to you, preventing you from doing so. Soon, the smell of cooking meat fills the cabin and you look up.

“I got some venison cookin’ up for ya.”

The thought of eating any kind of meat, after the things you witnessed, makes you want to gag. He sees your green face.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“I… I can’t eat that. Not…. not like this. Not now.”

Realization dawns on his face. “That’s a’right, I’ll eat it later. Well here, I got some beans, canned fruit. Here, got this too.”

He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a chocolate bar and hands it to you. Despite having not eaten in days, you’re really not hungry. You take the candy and just hold it, sniffing lightly. You hear him sigh and then he drags the one chair left in the house over to you, sitting down so he can look at you.

“Ma’am, I know you seen some bad things back there. I know those bastards killed your family. I’m real sorry, about all that. But… well, you’d make me feel a lot better if you’d eat somethin’.”

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you open the chocolate up and take a bite, though you don’t really taste it. He pats your knee, making you flinch.

“What’s your name?”

You tell him and he nods. “Arthur. Arthur Morgan. You, uh, you gonna be okay here?”

You just shrug your shoulders. Although you’ve no appetite, you’re starting to feel better now that your stomach has something in it. When you’re finished eating, Arthur offers you some peaches but you deny them. You really don’t think you can handle any more food. Instead, you lay down to try and get some sleep. Arthur stands up and begins heading for the door.

“Wait,” you say, your voice shaking. “Arthur, will… will you stay with me? At least until I… I’m not awake anymore?”

He turns and looks at you. It’s obvious from his face he’s got something heavy weighing on his mind, but he nods and sits back down in the chair. “Sure. Guess I can do that.”

You lay back down, your eyes unable to close for fear of seeing the horrors you witnessed. You can’t stand to watch your family get butchered again, hear their screams. Arthur pulls out an old journal from his satchel and begins scratching at a page with his pencil. The sound, and the exhaustion, finally lulls you to sleep.

Contrary to your surety, you end up having no dreams. Perhaps your mind’s so tired it can’t muster up the energy to dream, or maybe it’s trying to block the memories out. You don’t care though, you’re just grateful. You wake up after a few hours. It’s dark outside your window. Arthur’s gone and you’re all alone.

You feel like crying again, but you’re extremely thirsty. A result of having nothing to drink for God knows how long. You go out into the family room and kitchen of the cabin and find something lying on the cold stove. There’s several cans of food, a full waterskin, a bundle of money and a letter. Reading it, you see it’s from Arthur and he begs you to take care of yourself as best you can and that he’ll try and check on you in a few days. The thought of him returning sends a jolt of hope through your chest.

After drinking nearly half of the waterskin’s contents, you try going back to sleep, but you’re afraid. Afraid of the isolation, the darkness. You light a candle, but it does little to help. Shadows flicker along the walls, the silhouettes of the leaves outside play tricks on your eyes.

You know that not all the Murfrees were in that cabin when Arthur saved you. There were still plenty out there, alive and probably angry. Would they hunt you down? Would they hunt Arthur down? You have more questions than answers. The fear that they will track you and find you here tears through your chest. Should you leave? If Arthur returns, should you ask to follow him? He must have a group of people he lives with, but the thought of living with strangers makes you afraid too. You’ll be lucky if you ever trust another person after this. How can anyone be good when you just witnessed such extreme brutality?

***************************

A few days pass with no sight or word of another person, which is lucky for you. You talked yourself into going to the stream not far from the cabin and bathing, happy to strip the dirt and the blood from your skin. You rubbed yourself raw, as though convinced that by stripping your skin as much as you could, you could strip away the memories.

You struggle to sleep, and when you do, it’s very light. The slightest sounds wake you. If only Arthur were here, you felt safe with him. However, you doubt he’ll return. Why would he? You don’t know each other, he owes you nothing and you’ve nothing to offer him in return for his services. Still, you count the days until you see him, happy that you can see the sunlight.

The day after you came back, a young stag started to visit your house. Your home has always been frequented by deer, of course. But none of them ever stay long. The stag, though, seems to like this spot. You’ve caught him napping beneath your bedroom window a few times. He seems to have no fear of you, nor does he seem aggressive. In fact, he seems curious about you, liking to watch you pick through your sister-in-law’s garden, which is beginning to grow wild. The stag is a welcome companion. You know his senses are far more powerful than your own, and if he’s afraid, you should be too. He never gets worried though, until the fourth day.

You’re out picking some ginseng from the garden when the stag looks up from his grazing and bolts off into the trees. Looking up, you see Arthur walking in on his horse. He waves to you in greeting. A sigh escapes your lips and your stomach unclenches. You’d been afraid it’d been one of the Murfrees coming down the path.

“Hello, Y/N,” he says, dismounting.

“H-hello, Arthur,” you say with a croaky voice. You haven’t spoken a word since you last saw him.

“How are you?” he asks, stopping a few feet away. “Ya look tired.”

You shrug again. “It’s… it’s been hard to sleep.” He just nods, not expecting you to go into detail as to why. You notice from his eyes that he seems tired himself.

“I’d… Let me cook something up for you,” you say. “Afraid all I have is the food you left for me. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“It’s not a problem, ma’am, and you don’t need to do that. By the way, do you know how to feed yourself out here?”

It’s clear he means hunting, and you shake your head. “I don’t think I can do it. Maybe before all this I could’ve, but now…”

He nods, understanding what you mean. “Give it time, Y/N. But I brought more food for you. Thought you might need it.”

You invite him inside, stammering your thanks. Of course, there’s really not anywhere to sit, but you and Arthur do by sitting on the floor, eating out of the cans. You’re both quiet for a time, but then you ask Arthur what his life is like, desperate for a distraction from the hell that is your own life.

He tells you that he’s an outlaw, that he’s running with a gang. They’ve run into the worst of times, which is what led to him and his friend Charles to Beaver Hollow where they found you. He finishes by saying they’re all holed up there now and they’ve cleaned it up.

“You’re not afraid of the Murfrees coming back?” you ask, your eyes wide.

He chuckles. “Trust me, they’d be damn stupid to do that. With how my gang is right now, they’re nastier than those Murfrees.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Mr. Morgan. You… you don’t kidnap and butcher people,” you say slowly, still getting used to talking again.

“No, but we’re all turnin’ on each other like a pack of wild, starvin’ dogs. The gang leader, Dutch… he’s… gone crazy or somethin’. His girl came back, drunk and mad, sayin’ she betrayed us. Our matriarch, Susan, shot her dead. I wanted to spare Dutch’s girl, but they killed her anyways. I honestly have my doubts that she betrayed us. Think she was just heartbroken, woulda said anythin’ to hurt Dutch like he hurt her.”

You don’t really know anything about what he’s saying, but it sounds like his gang’s in trouble. You swear you recognize the name Dutch though.

“What… what is Dutch’s last name?” you ask.

“Van der Linde. Why?”

Your eyes widen again and you stare at Arthur with a new sense of recognition. “You’re with Dutch’s boys? The gang of murderers, train robbers and bandits?”

He sighs and just nods.

“I read about the Blackwater heist, the Valentine massacre. Were… were you involved with those?”

“Not the Blackwater heist. But I helped shoot up Valentine, Rhodes, Saint Denis. I’m afraid I ain’t the hero you believe I am.”

Even though you know you should be appalled and disgusted with the man sitting beside you, you don’t. Instead, you put your hand on his knee. “You saved my life, Mr. Morgan. You killed those bad people, brought me home. Not only that, you’re here now to make sure I’m okay. You can’t be all bad.”

“But I ain’t all good neither, Y/N. Trust me, I killed just as many folks as those bastards who put you in this situation.”

You pause and withdraw your hand. “Did you like it? Killing those people?”

He sighs. “No. I ain’t never liked it. But I had to with most of ‘em.”

“Then you’re not as bad as those Murfree bastards. They… they liked it.” For the first time since you returned, you willingly delve into those memories, trying to get Arthur to see your point. “They said they’d do horrible things to me, Arthur. And I believed every single one of them because I watched them do those things to my family. My brother and his family weren’t good people, but they didn’t deserve what happened. Forgive me, but I don’t see you skinning a man and laughing as he screams. I can’t imagine you raping a girl as young as my niece. I can’t believe you’d mutilate a woman and put her body on a pike for display.”

He swallows. “No. No I’d never do that.”

“Then you ain’t a bad man, not like them. You… saved me and you don’t even know me.”

He looks at you and pats you on the knee. “I’d save you again, miss. Listen, even though things are bad with my gang and I got a lotta work to do, I… I’m hopin’ you’ll be a’right if I stay here every few days?”

You smile for the first time and squeeze his hand. “Nothing would make me happier, Mr. Morgan.”

****************************************

As Arthur promised, every few days he returns to your cabin and usually stays for a day or two. He sleeps out in his own tent during the night, resting in a new bedroll since you still have his old one. You offered it back but he told you to keep it.

After his third visit, he brought tools he bought from Valentine and started making you furniture. You had no means to get it yourself, and you were incredibly embarrassed that he’d do such labors as that, but you were grateful. He made a table first and then a chair to go with the single one you had.

Every time he comes, he brings food and often leaves you with some money. You ask him to keep it, of course, as you haven’t gotten the courage to go to town. However he ignores your pleas and does it anyways, stating you need it more than he does.

Along with this, he decided to teach you how to shoot a gun, stating it’s useful knowledge in case the Murfrees do track you down. You don’t like it much at first as the bang always makes you jump. When you grow used to it, it gets easier. Arthur ends up leaving a carbine repeater with you so you can have some form of protection when he’s gone.

When Arthur isn’t here, the young stag always returns. You find great comfort in the deer’s company, almost like he’s watching over you when Arthur can’t. He always leaves when Arthur visits, but within hours of his departure, the stag comes back every time.

As the weeks go by, your memories slowly begin to grow less harsh and you start recalling them less. You still don’t trust strangers and any sight of one from the trail sends you running into your cabin. The threat of the Murfrees still hangs heavy over your head. The nightmares started some time ago and you still aren’t able to sleep very well. You notice you sleep best on the nights when Arthur’s visiting.

You look out your kitchen window and see him coming down the trail now, making your heart lift. Opening the window, you call out to him and he waves, a big grin on his face. As he dismounts his horse, he looks over at you.

“What you cookin’?” he asks.

“Just some turkey. I shot one earlier.”

“Did ya?” he says, pride in his voice. He tried getting you to eat some eat a couple weeks back but with no success. However, even you can’t deny how much weight you’ve lost since the cave. Even though you’re eating enough beans, vegetables and fruits, it’s obvious you need to eat some meat to keep going.

He walks into the cabin, sniffing appreciatively. You can’t help but blush. The more you two have gotten to know each other, the more you’ve grown to like him. Not only that, you’re quickly developing a crush on him. You have an idea that he might like you too. After all, why else would he keep visiting you like this?

Just as you’re setting dinner down on the table, the cabin is suddenly illuminated by and quickly followed by a huge bang, causing you to jump out of your skin.

“Easy, easy,” Arthur says, his hand planting on the small of your back. “It’s just lightning and thunder.”

You blush at his touch and nod. He goes over to the window and looks up at the sky. “Hmm. Looks like a pretty good storm.”

You pause. You’ve no bed to offer him, but you don’t want him sleeping out in the rain either.

“You can, um, take my bed if you want,” you offer. “You’re the guest, after all.”

“No, miss, I’d never kick ya out of your own bed.”

You think to offer him sleeping with you in the bed but you quickly dash away that thought. No way would he go for it and you doubt you’d be comfortable with that.

However, as the night sets further in, the storm grows stronger. The lightning and thunder last for a long time, even to the point where you’re huddled in bed and shivering. You’ve never been a huge fan of thunder during the night, but after the Murfrees it’s even worse.

After a while of heart-wrenching fear of the storm, you get out of bed and look out in the kitchen, where Arthur’s laid his bedroll out on the floor.

“Arthur?” you whisper.

He grunts over the howling wind, letting you know he’s awake.

“Arthur, will… will you come be with me? I can’t sleep over this.”

He sits up and nods. Before he stands, you go back to your bed and huddle against the wall, still cold. He comes in, his eyes glancing at the lit lantern on your bedside table. You never sleep without it anymore. Silently, he crawls into bed and lies down on his back. At first, you give him his space, but the lightning and thunder persist. This sends you to pack yourself against him, your head buried into his shirt. He doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact his arm wraps protectively around you.

After this night, things noticeably change between the two of you. Arthur’s much more likely to touch you and he spends most nights in your bed. Despite everything you saw happen to your sister-in-law and niece in the cave, it doesn’t take long before you end up having sex with Arthur. It had been in the morning and he’d been spooning you. You’d shuffled your hips a little and felt his morning wood. Being already attracted to him, you couldn’t control yourself and one thing led to another. He was the first person you’d slept with too, but he was gentle and did his best to make sure you felt good.

You were honestly surprised with yourself about sleeping with him. You hadn’t even kissed and yet there you were with him between your legs. However, you wouldn’t deny that it felt right. After the deed was done, the two of you talked for a while about what would happen between the two of you. Both of you admitted your feelings for one another. It was the best thing to have happened to you since Arthur saved your life. All the walls came tumbling down. He told you the details about his gang and how bad things had become. You told him about your past too, the abuses you suffered at the hands of your brother and his family, which explained why you weren’t devastated by their deaths, though disturbed by them.

Since that morning, sex between the two of you has become a fairly regular thing. Arthur’s careful, not wanting another situation like Eliza and Isaac. Your feelings have quickly spiraled out of control. You wish he was around all the time but understand when he has to leave to try and help what remains of his gang.

Arthur says he loves you, but it’s not until one night that he discovers he’s never loved anyone more. The two of you had just finished fooling around and he’d collapsed on top of you. Things had been so hard in the gang lately, he and Charles had aided Eagle Flies, the Wapiti chief’s son escape prison, and Dutch had found out. He’d been irate when he discovered Arthur was helping the Wapiti behind his back. Things had hit an all time low, so being with you was the greatest form of relief for him. However, as he settled on top of you, you held his head to your chest and stroked his hair.

Never before had you lay with him like this. From the beginning, it was him who held you, him who brushed your hair, him who comforted you in the night. But here you were, with his head on your shoulder, whispering in his ear that things would be better. No woman in his past ever did this, and he knew he’d like nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you.

****************************************

Arthur rides down towards your little cabin with the heaviest of hearts. The betrayal crushes down on him, and the pain of everything sags his shoulders down. When he sees you out in the garden, looking so beautiful as you sing to yourself with the sun glowing on your hair, he feels like crying, knowing you’ll accept him with open arms.

When you spot him, you break out with your big smile. The one he loves so much. When he embraces you, burying his face into your hair, you know something real bad has happened. You ask and he tells you how the Wapiti attacked the oil fields in retaliation to all the horrible things the army and Cornwall have done to them. He tells you how Dutch used the Indians to get rich, how he himself had been knocked down and nearly killed. Dutch had a chance to save him but abandoned him.

“He was like my father,” he sniffs into your hair. “Him and Hosea, they raised me. But now I see I’ve never been anything other than a means to an end for him. I’m expendable. All those goddamn years. Wasted.”

“What will you do?” you ask softly when he composes himself.

He leans up, his hands still on your waist. “I ain’t goin’ back. I’m done breakin’ my back for that fool. If… If you’ll have me, I’d like to stay here with you. Try for a… a new life.”

You smile and brush his cheek with your hand. “Nothing would make me happier, Arthur.”

The kiss that follows is one you’ll never forget.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #awkward asks

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