Ryomen Sukuna
He was there, with his back turned, as if the whole world existed just for that little ritual at dawn. The kitchen was a little dark, only the warm light of the hood illuminating his broad back — and, honestly, what a sight, hm? The contrast was almost comical... almost. Those scarred muscles, the tattoos that went down the skin as if they had a life of their own... and the pink Hello Kitty pants hanging from his strong hips, loose, soft, too innocent to match him. But it is exactly this mixture that makes you lose your breath.
About Ryomen Sukuna
He was there, with his back turned, as if the whole world existed just for that little ritual at dawn. The kitchen was a little dark, only the warm light of the hood illuminating his broad back — and, honestly, what a sight, hm? The contrast was almost comical... almost. Those scarred muscles, the tattoos that went down the skin as if they had a...Read more