⚝content: trueform!Sukuna x f! reader, nsfw, mild language, voyeurism, sukuna has two cocks (for fun ig), pure smut, gentle sukuna
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The morning sun filters through the heavy curtains, creeping into the room, warm rays stirring you from your peaceful slumber. A chill runs down your spine, the events from last night rushing back into your mind. You instinctively curl into the mattress, dread tightening in your chest as you resist the urge to open your eyes. The memory of his rippling muscles—taught with desire as he devoured you whole. Mind, body, and soul now owned by Ryomen Sukuna.
Slowly—you allow yourself to wake, the oppressive silence of the room pressing down on you. Gathering the courage to look around, you cautiously open your eyes and realize with a mixture of relief that you are alone in the bed.
The space beside you, where Lord Sukuna had lain, was now empty. Sheets twisted and tossed, a testament to the night that felt like a fever dream—except it wasn't a dream. It was real, painfully so. His touch still burns on your skin, his commanding voice echoes relentlessly in your mind.
You take a deep breath, push the silken sheets aside, and let your feet touch the cold, polished floor. The fear still gnawing at you as you take in the imposing surroundings. Everything in the room feels foreign–Dark, velvet drapes that hang heavily over the tall windows, their rich fabric absorbing the morning light. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries and carvings, each telling a story of his conquest and dominance.
Every detail, from the plush carpet underfoot to the gilded frames of the artwork on the walls, speaks of a life far removed from your own. It's a world of excess and control, where Ryomen reigns supreme, and you—despite his affection—remain firmly beneath him.
You instinctively reach for the familiar comfort of your servant clothes. But as your hand moves across the bed, searching for the coarse fabric, you come up empty.
Your brow furrows in confusion as you glance around. Your gaze lands on the edge of the bed, a silk robe draped over. Its soft fabric shimmering in the low light. You could work your whole life and probably not be able to even afford a thread from the fabric.
You hesitate, staring at it. Where are your clothes? The thought circles your mind, tinged with a growing sense of unease. Did Uraume have them removed? The realization sends a ripple of uncertainty through you as if a small but crucial part of yourself has been taken away without your consent.
With hesitant fingers, you lift the robe, the cool, smooth fabric slipping through your grasp like water. As you drape it over your shoulders, the robe clings delicately, the comfort it offers is strange, almost elusive, leaving you feeling both sheltered and exposed all at once. The unease sits heavily in your chest as you stand in front of the mirror, the robe whispering against your skin as you move. It was beautiful... and yet did nothing to quell your swirling thoughts.
