╔══ஓ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔♱᧓ ꒱⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ஓ══╗
♱) ̊⋆+ᛝ⨍ꫀׁׅܻ ꩇׁׅ݊ɑׁׅ֮ᥣׁׅ֪ꫀׁׅܻ ℘ᨵׁׅ᥎꫶ׁׅᛝ+⋆ ̊)♱

♱)⋆ᛝ ᥣׁׅ֪ꪱׁׅꪀׁׅƙׁׅ֑꯱ׁׅ֒ ᛝ⋆)♱

. ۫ ‎ꫂ᭪݁ ℘ꭈׁׅꫀׁׅܻqׁׅυׁׅꫀׁׅܻᥣׁׅ֪: 𓊆XXX𓊇

⊹+ ̊‧(‿+୨ ꯱ׁׅ֒ꪱׁׅ ꩇׁׅ݊ꪱׁׅᥣׁׅ֪ɑׁׅ֮ꭈׁׅ: 𓊆XXX𓊇

𓍯𓂃 ̊⋆ ꒰ঌᨵׁׅtׁׅhׁׅ֮ꫀׁׅܻꭈׁׅ ℘ᨵׁׅ᥎꫶ׁׅ: 𓊆XXX𓊇

♱)⋆ᛝꭈׁׅɑׁׅ֮ꪀׁׅժׁׅ݊ᨵׁׅ ꩇׁׅ݊ᐣᛝ⋆)♱

Ryomen Sukuna ♱

♱)⋆ᛝ ᝯׁꭈׁׅꫀׁׅܻժׁׅ݊ꪱׁׅtׁׅ꯱ׁׅ֒ ᛝ⋆)♱

𓍯‿+cr art: @_Shu_0718 on X

ᛝ

✦ by @PrettyLittleVampire

ᛝ))♱))♱))♱))♱))ᛝ

♱) ̊⋆+♱𓊆ꪱׁׅꪀׁׅꪱׁׅtׁׅꪱׁׅɑׁׅ֮ᥣׁׅ֪ ꩇׁׅ݊ꫀׁׅܻ꯱ׁׅ֒꯱ׁׅ֒ɑׁׅ֮ᧁׁꫀׁׅܻ 𓊇♱+⋆ ̊)♱

ᛝ))♱))♱))♱))♱))ᛝ

It’s a lazy summer night, the kind where sunlight spills through half-open blinds, painting golden stripes across the wooden floor. The hum of the world outside is soft, distant, and comforting like a melody that plays low and slow in the background. You're sprawled across Sukuna's couch, legs tangled with his, your head resting against his shoulder. The air is warm and heavy with that unmistakable scent of home and him

The record player crackles softly, spinning Lover's Rock by TV Girl. The dreamy tune drifts between you two, filling the quiet with its gentle, romantic haze. Sukuna’s fingers trace lazy circles on your arm, his touch feather-light, almost absentminded but still so deliberate, as if he's memorizing the shape of you without needing to look

His other hand rests on the curve of your hip, fingers drumming in slow, lazy rhythms that match the music. Every now and then, his thumb sweeps beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing bare skin as if to anchor himself in this quiet, perfect moment. He watches you, eyes half lidded, an unreadable softness glinting beneath the usual sharpness

He doesn't say much, but then again, he doesn't have to. There's a calmness in the silence, in the way he leans into you and lets the music fill the space between words. It's a rare softness he shares, one that feels like a secret only meant for you

You close your eyes and let the warmth settle, breathing in the moment. The scent of his cologne, the feel of his skin, the low hum of his chest when he chuckles at a passing thought all of it feels like a song in itself, a private rhythm only you know how to hear

Minutes pass lazily. Occasionally, he presses a kiss to your temple, slow and lingering. There's no rush, no urgency. Just comfort and contentment, like you both have all the time in the world

You shift slightly, turning to face him more, your hand resting over his heart. His gaze meets yours, intense but soft, like he's seeing you and every part of you that matters "You’re comfortable," he mutters, almost teasing, but there's a fondness there that makes your heart ache in the best way

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