I'm Always Saying This

I'm always saying this

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE.

@fckmanji on twitter<3

also this is literally Higuruma in this.

[Sukuna x possessed!reader, demonic possession, religious undertones, d/s relationship, body control, smut, manipulation and gaslighting, dubcon ig, nipple play, kinda fucked up <3]

It’s all in your head. 

Dark bedroom. Moonlight outside. Smudged outlines of the nightlife out the window: distant club-goers, cars speeding down the street, flashy signs of 24/7 convenience stores.

You’re going insane, doll. 

Blankets are too heavy, too warm, a coffin-like pressure burying you alive deep underground– tear it off, tear it off you. Your pyjamas are drenched in cold sweat, your hair stuck dirty onto your red forehead, brushing into your teary eyes. Itchy, irritating, everywhere. Tear if off, get off, get off me. 

You strip off your clothes, your underwear, you try to scratch your skin-shell out. Get out, get away. It’s not working. He’s here. He’s in you. 

I’m always inside you. You’re mine. My darling doll. 

Ryomen Sukuna.

Yes, puppet? His voice echoes in your head, it mixes with your thoughts until you can’t separate you from him. 

You’ve been seeing him out of the corner of your eye for a while now. A glimpse of a moving shadow here in the corners of your room… and then nothing. A breath down the back of your neck… and then nothing. A weight over your chest as you slept… and then nothing when you woke up. Each time he gets closer and bolder. 

Don’t take my name in vain, doll. Come to me. 

You are wrenched to stumble to the floor-length mirror beside the bed. Do you walk, or are you being walked? You can’t tell anymore. You can’t feel anything other than the intense burn in your left arm as Sukuna’s markings manifest onto it. 

What do you say? 

“Thank you,” you reply, sweet plaything that you are. In the mirror, you can see yourself clearly: your naked skin scratched red with your nails, your hair messed, his markings stamped onto your left, eyes possessed. 

Sweat drips between the curve of your breasts. Your cries and gasps delight Sukuna as you lean over the mirror in pain again: the markings burn into your right arm now. 

A reward for your pretty words. Don’t you want more, sweetheart?

Who says your words? Whose lips move when you speak? Who are you? 

“I do, master. I want more.” 

Your sobs are loud. But Sukuna says that this is all inside your head. And inside your head there is just you and him. No one will hear you cry and beg. 

Sukuna’s markings hurt your pretty face as they appear. It’s a familiar pain now, one that claims a promise of something more. Lines across your cheeks, chin, nose and forehead. It’s as if he’s leaving kisses. 

Look into the mirror. Who do you see?

“You.”

Who do you belong to?

“You.”

He’s pleased. Kneel, doll. 

Down on your knees you await further burn. It trickles down your neck along with your tears, it caresses down your shoulders, it flows down your chest. Stings like hellish love.  

Goosebumps. Tight breaths. A blush over your marked face. Your fingers move to wet them inside your mouth and then pinch your pebbled nipples. “Ahhh~” Sukuna enjoys you. “Master, nghh, ah~”.  

Spread.

Your thigh split, your cunt exposed to the mirror. The final marks, around your thigh and right above your mons, sear into place. You have yet to recover from the pain when a hand leaves your breast and strokes through the patch of your womanly hair to spread your cunt open. Two pairs of hellfire eyes watch you. They watch you all the time. Everywhere. Inside and out.

He doesn’t let you touch, though. You simply kneel in that position, an open hole for display, your arousal dripping down your thighs and ass, every muscle pulled taut in your body, tits heaving as you puff and gulp, skin shining with moonlit sweat. Every inch of you is under his control. 

Perfect as porcelain, my doll. His monstrous laughs sound and resound in your head until nothing else but him remains. Ryomen Sukuna. No one else. No one else understands. No one else can see. It's just you and him. 

Your heart beats so desperately. You can taste him on your tongue. You can feel his many hands all over your stinging skin. You can’t think straight but– it must be– if you could but make sense of it–Sukuna–this must be love. 

And just like that, it’s over. The markings are gone. You collapse onto the floor of your bedroom. 

I’ll be back tomorrow night.

a/n: the italised and bold words are thoughts. which are of the possessed and which of the possessor?

@/KAMONORITOSHI said in twt that if you shake Kamo, at least 43 packets of blood would fall from his robes and I’m inclined to agree

“sukuna is a fraud” the biggest of them all!! “he doesn’t fight fair, he cheats” cause he knows how to. “gojo would have won if…” if he knew how to cheat better. NEXT.

[ #2, Lord!Sukuna x knight!reader, heian-era trueform Sukuna, d/s relationship, graphic descriptions of torture and violence as a metaphor for love, misogyny, yandere!reader, jealousy, gnc reader, 800+ words ]

pt.1 (feast)

No one wants to bring the news to you: Sukuna has taken another knight. 

One he found mid-battle, similar to you. Young Gojo-kun, a sprightly boy only a few years younger than you, possesses the Six Eyes and Limitless cursed technique. One who apparently professed his loyalty to Sukuna in exchange for training. One who sits pampered in his tent across the post-war encampment. 

That you raged back into your tent, fell down weeping, bashed your things at the walls, ripped your hair and tore your robes off screaming in anger… it was all heard by the worried guards posted in front of your chambers. Never had they seen their noble knight with veins of cold steel so. It did not calm them down when you emerged from your doors, kimono falling off your shoulders, eyes puffy red, hair dishevelled, and your hand grasped, with foreboding surety, around your sword. 

The All-Seeing Gojo-kun titters at your state. His tent is among the largest, his throng of admirers sitting around like so. His feet are slung over a makeshift throne, about 20 paces from your determined steps.

“What an honour! The Butcher, in flesh!” He mocks. “Make space, Benkei, find a seat for the mistress-in-chief’s royal ass!” He takes no notice of the audience gasping, the inconceivable disrespect for someone like you. 

10 paces. “Won’t you please us with a dance, dog? Like you do for your master? A little tail-wagging?” Gojo-kun has nothing to worry about. Not only is he blessed with God-like sorcery and the heirdom of the Gojo Clan, he has the protection of Sukuna himself. Nothing can wee old you do to him.  

5 paces. “Please, I only tease you as a friend, haha! Will you go tattle to Sukuna now?”

3 paces. “But he won’t care, will he? Not when he’s bored with his old toy. One with no cursed technique.”

2 paces. “Not when he has me, the pinnacle of jujutsu sorcery.”

1 pace. You plant your footing in front of the smug Gojo-kun– “Keep crying for him like a virgin bride, you know that he’ll never return your pathe– ” and you cut his head off in one clean flash of your blade. 

Screams, a rushing crowd, weeping maidens, enraged men. Damn, you muse. That brat must’ve really gotten to me. My hand shook so much. Because why else would a few untorn threads of muscle still dare to patch his idiotic head onto his neck? The boy is still breathing. Good.  

You drag Gojo-kun’s body, his ornate robes collecting grass-dirt, by the hair. People stand by terrified lest they catch your eye. In his last moments, you correct his previous statement: you do have a cursed technique. Pain like rats are clawing through their chest, pain like they are being skinned and broiled alive, pain like their eyes, tongues, fingers and genitalia are being torn off…You can give one such pain at the time of their death. And the way his dead eyes are crying, you know that he’s penitent. 

His body flops to the ground as his neck-muscles finally snap apart. Tsk. Now you have to carry the head in one hand and rest in another. All the way up to the master tent, where Lord Sukuna must be holding court. 

No guard dares stop you. The courtiers part in haste. Sukuna himself sits up, eyes wide in shock. Like a wolfdog bringing a dead sparrow to present to its master, both parts of the corpse are dropped, as are your knees, to the ground at your Lord’s feet. 

“I caught this rat stealing from your granary, Sukuna-sama.” What a bold-faced lie, but which fool would correct you? “I protected you.” 

Sukuna knew that you were tamed in the sense that you did your best to be tame for him. He did anticipate some ill-feelings from you when he brought the boy along, not blunt murder. Should he punish you? You certainly deserved to be disciplined; he had grand plans for the Six-Eyes. But to look into the insanity carved in your stony eyes as you pointedly refuse to call him ‘my Lord’... No, I understand now. 

This was your way of saying, if the brat deserved to survive, he would have. Your cruel mouth says he wasn’t worthy of you. Your jealous heart says I am all that you require, my Lord. 

You dragged his corpse all the way here not to profess guilt but for something completely different: you want praise. Sukuna has never denied you anything. 

“Well done, knight.” Your Lord’s voice rumbles like rocks through the silence. “We are all grateful for your service.”

You offer him a deep prostration before you excuse yourself. The next time Sukuna spots you is at the dinner banquet, merry-making and loud-laughing with your comrades, sake and deer-meat aplenty, your knight uniform shining, long hair tied neat, sword pristine as a white lily. 

masterlist

a/n: Set in the Heian era (794-1185 AD), this Gojo isn't our Satoru Gojo, to clarify that. He also never got the chance to activate his Infinity before getting his head lopped off, poor guy ig.

knight!reader primarily fights with conventional weaponry, infuses cursed energy and uses New Shadow style techniques (which they discovered and founded), cuz their CT is pretty useless in actual battle. Most people, like Gojo-kun here, think that they don't have one. they're a horrifically savage fighter, tearing enemies into chunks, hence is also called 'The Butcher'.

While the biological sex of the knight is whatever the reader wants it to be, socially they play a male role. they dress in male military uniform, fight alongside men, were given a man's education, and get duties and respect that a man of that time would get. realistically, a woman would never get the high ranking of a knight.

knight!reader is not Sukuna's mistress or anything like that. it's just mean-spirited gossip. their relations are intensely close and kinda fucked up tho :)