[Sukuna X Possessed!reader, Demonic Possession, Religious Undertones, D/s Relationship, Body Control,

[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.