( ꈍᴗꈍ)

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sukuna will say this very seriously, he does not get jealous. the emotion itself is beneath him.

that is until yuji coming home from school, jumping in place.

“i made a friend today!!”

“you did?” you ask. “so what are they like?”

“his name’s megumi and he likes dogs and dinosaurs too and he traded me his pudding because i gave him my chocolate!”

yuji keeps talking without stopping.

“and he’s really quiet but he laughed when i scared a pigeon away and megumi said maybe we can go to the park together and can we please please please—”

“ji— okay, okay,” you laugh. “slow down.”

his eyes widen instantly. “really?!”

“if megumi’s dad says yes, sure.”

yuji cheers.

later that week you end up exchanging numbers with megumi’s father after pickup.

toji fushiguro, he introduced himself— pretty tall, scar across his mouth, seems normal enough, though.

it was a friday afternoon, and you were tired of sukuna never listening to your words. you curled into yourself, desperate for warmth in your cold and lonely bed, with the silent house. something was wrong.

the door creaked open just a smidge, and tiny footsteps came in, along with soft sniffles and hiccups that came from what sounded like to be yuji.

when you looked down with your eyebrows furrowed, all of your irritation was driven away when a tear-stained yuji stood by the side of your bed. you could almost feel your heart breaking into millions of pieces as he gazed up at you with a pout, with his glossy eyes and with his hands that grabbed the covers.

“oh, yuji,” you cooed, then you picked him up by the armpits and sat him on your lap, “what’s wrong, baby?”

you could hardly hear his voice over his sobs, “do you- hic- not love hic- kuna anymwore?”

you wiped at his tears, “i still love him, yuji, we just need a couple of hours away from each other, you shouldn’t be worried about this stuff.”

“please don’t leave us! i’ll- i’ll miss you, and- hic- kuna looks at photos of you like-like all the time! you’re on his phone and he talks to me about you even though he- hic- told me not to tell you!” he wailed.

he babbled on and on, snot and tears soaked your shirt as he gripped the cloth in his little fists like he was scared you’d leave. it isn’t until you placed a small, reassuring kiss on his forehead that his sobs softened to sniffles.

“i’m not leaving you two, okay?” you whispered, then focused his glossy brown eyes.

he whimpered and nodded, but his head snapped toward the bedroom door when it creaked open. his little eyebrows furrowed as he clung on tighter to you when he saw sukuna in the doorway.

“no!” yuji exclaimed as sukuna began to step closer, then held an arm out to somehow protect you, “you made her sad!”

“that’s why i’m here to apologize, brat. leave so i can do this in private.” he argued, then rolled his eyes as he sat down on the bed next to you.

yuji grumbled and pushed him with all his might, but to no avail. “go away!” he shouted. sukuna only laughed, then gently pushed yuji as he toppled onto you.

but during a moment of silence, yuji still held onto you, then embraced you into a tiny but tight hug, and he still frowned at sukuna, while he tried his best to intimidate him.

“i didn’t mean what i said,” he mumbled, as he ashamedly looked down at the sheets, “i’m an asshole, i know that. but i’m trying to be better for you… and for this little runt here too.” he ruffled yuji’s messy hair, who huffed in protest. sukuna continued, “i’m sorry. i’ll be more considerate of your words next time,” he caressed your soft hand in his tattooed one.

yuji slowly looked back up at you with red around his eyes, “does this mean we can still have movie fridays after school?”he whispered.

“yes,” you smiled, “thank you for apologizing, kuna,” you murmured, “i love you.”

he reciprocated the words, and when you two left a kiss on each other’s lips, yuji let out a little ‘yuck!’ with a soft giggle.

suddenly, like a little boy his age who couldn’t focus on anything for more than five minutes, he ran out of the room and yelled, “i’m picking the movie!”

hope u guys like this! gonna work on another kuna requests… maybe hybrid tiger kuna

pls send in requests

warnings; none!

a/n: first attempt at fluff and a short drabble (I think?), need to work on imagery more but I’m kinda proud of this ngl

When you told your husband, Sukuna, that you were expecting, he was elated. Don’t get me wrong he was worried as well, he wasn’t used to being soft until he met you, and you changed the way he viewed the world.

However when you both found out you were expecting a girl, he couldn’t be more happy. He launched himself into baby prepping, decorating the nursery, thoroughly researching a reliable car seat, and setting up her college tuition, which you thought was ridiculous as you’re only 5 months into your pregnancy.

When your baby girl finally blessed his world, he sobbed. It was very unlike him, he didn’t even sob this hard at the wedding! He was an angel throughout postpartum, never letting you stay up for too long, waking up to feed your baby and changing her diaper throughout the night so you could catch up on sleep.

Although, Sukuna opting to spend more time with the baby had ulterior motives. He wanted his daughter to be a daddy’s girl. He wanted to go on daddy daughter dates, dances and what not with his beloved daughter. He wanted to be the perfect father, the one he never had. He tried to make the best of his time spending with her, as she always spent more with you anyway.

To his surprise, she much rather be with you than with Sukuna. When she’s sobbing her poor little heart out at night while she lays in her crib, Sukuna tries and I mean really tries to comfort her but unfortunately she’d much rather be comforted by her mommy.

Sukuna tried many ways to make her first words be “dada”. Showing wedding pictures of both of you to your daughter,

“This is dada, da-da” he points to himself in the picture while your baby sits in her high chair waiting for her food.

“And this is Mother, mother” he said while pointing at you.

Your baby however, unamused. She’d been saying “mama” these past few weeks, Sukuna just never heard for it himself.

“So your first word better be ‘dada’. I buy you everything you need and even that ugly ‘labubu’ thing that everyone has these days.” He says while feeding the baby.

“I’m home!” You walk through the front door, before closing it and heading towards the dining room right next to the kitchen. “How are my favorite people doing?” You say while setting your things down at the table.

Much to Sukunas dismay, your daughter uttered words he never thought he’d hear first. “Mama!” She giggled, reaching out her tiny little arms while you approached her and kissed her plump cheeks.

“Hi baby! I missed you. I hope daddy wasn’t troubling you too much.”

He grumbled, “We were doing just fine.”

You glance at the wedding pictures in his hand, “why do you have our wedding photos?”

He sighed, “I was trying to get her to say ‘dada’, but apparently she has a favorite parent and it’s not me.”

“I mean.. I am her mother.”

“And I am her father..” he scrunched his eyebrows. “Are we both just stating facts here?”

“Look kuna, she doesn’t have a favorite parent! And besides I carried her for 9 months. I had terrible morning sickness throughout all of it. I think her preferring me is what I deserve.”

“You’re right, you did go through all of that.” He sighed and placed a tender kiss on your temple.

Maybe the next baby will be on his side..

his genes didn't even try. not a speck of white in his baby girl's hair, not a sliver of crystal blue in her eyes. she's all you—from the eyes to the nose to the laugh. good lord, satoru has been blessed by the gods.

he fell in love with her the moment the doctor handed you the little bundle of joy. and when he first carried her? you just laugh at the way he almost melts to the floor.

everytime he gets home from missions, he goes straight to where you're playing with mini you. his daughter giggles upon seeing her dad. he crashes on top of the two of you, careful not to squish neither of you. first and foremost, he kisses you. then, the baby. then back to you, then back to her—it goes on and on until you go and tell him to shower.

at night when your daughter makes a fuss, it's satoru who gets up and soothes her. he carries her over to your shared room, lays her in the space between, and talks to her about anything—his latest mission, his students, her big brother megumi, how the two of you met, his bestfriend suguru, her uncle nanami, her aunt shoko.

all the while, his baby listens earnestly, eyes wide and curious like yours. she even responds sometimes! no, she can't talk yet, but she's already a good listener.

"maybe we should take you to see uncle suguru. do you miss him? who do you miss more, him or papa?"

"ah."

"there's only one answer to that. why are you hesitating?" he pokes her cheek, and holds back the urge to bite and chomp.

"ba.."

"papa? yes! that's right. you miss papa more, right?"

"ma!"

satoru gasps dramatically, "mama? you're already with her 24/7!" your baby grins, and he's in awe by how much of you he sees in her.

he picks her up with ease, and settles her on top of him. he glances at your sleeping form, "you look like your mom, you know?"

your baby also glances at you, one hand reaching out before satoru grabs her little wrist and holds it to his chest. "mama's sleeping. she's tired, we need to let her rest."

your daughter babbles, "ma-ma-ma."

"yes, mama. you look like mama. that means you're also pretty and beautiful." he kisses her cheek.

"pi. pi!"

satoru nods in understanding, acting like your baby just said something revolutionary. "yes. pretty. that's you," he pinches her nose, she huffs. "and mama. my pretty girls."

"when you grow up, you need to marry someone who'll preach your beauty like how i do to your mom, okay? never date a boy who doesn't tell you how beautiful you are every passing day." satoru whispers, eyes locked onto an identical pair to yours.

his daughter only yawns in response, dropping her head into his sternum. satoru adjusts her so she's laying on her back in the middle of you two. instinctively, your baby wiggles around, searching for your warmth in her sleep. satoru only sighs with a smile. what a velcro baby he's raising.

"why do you always kiss my lips?" you asked toji softly. you were fixing your hair when he came in and stole a kiss from your lips.

"hm?" he hummed.

"why do you always kiss my lips?" you asked again, turning to face him.

toji blinked. he was confused. you never brought up any complaints before. did you not like his kisses?

"do you not like when i kiss your lips?" he asked hesitantly. his hands found your hands and he pulled you closer. "i can stop if you don't."

you shook your head. "its not that. its just i kind of want you to kiss my cheek sometimes or my forehead. you always just dive right for my lips."

toji sighed. "are you complaining?" his grip on your waist tightened slightly.

you shook your head quickly. you pulled him closer and looked at him with panic. "no! im not. i love your kisses, dont ever stop, please. forget i said anything."

toji laughed at your panicked state. he brought his hands to your cheeks and squished them together till your lips formed a pout.

he pressed his lips to your pout and then let go of your cheeks.

"and what do i get if i start kissing your cheeks?" he asked with a smirk on his lips.

you glared at him and punched his chest. "why do you always need something in return? can't a girl just want her boyfriend to kiss her cheek?"

toji smiled. "nope. i'll always kiss your lips. cheek kisses are for teenage boys. im a man, doll."

you rolled your eyes and pushed him away. if he wanted to play like that then you would too.

"fine, i'll just ask gojo-"

lips landed on your cheek instantly. toji's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. he pressed kiss after kiss on your cheek before moving to the other one and doing the same thing.

a laugh escaped your lips and you pulled away from him.

"i thought cheek kisses were for teenage boys."

you're sat cross-legged on the living room floor, the tv light casting hazy flickers across the room. to your left sits toji, leaning backwards propping himself up with his arm, your son's head propped against his chest. megumi blinks sleepily, long lashes batting slowly as he tries to watch the movie on screen, his head nodding up and down every so often in a drowsy attempt not to drift off. one of his hands is clenched into a tiny fist, clasping tightly onto toji's t-shirt, black spiky hair pressed against the fabric as he rests his head.

unfinished popcorn lays abandoned in a bowl off to the side, pillows scattered from the makeshift fort you and megumi had tried to assemble earlier to watch the movie in. laying amongst the mess of pillows lies two wolf plushies, each with soft fur in colours of deep black and ivory-white each.

you’d spent the majority of the evening in the fort with megumi, watching as he demonstrated a shadow puppet wolf with his chubby hands, lip jutted out and face set in concentration with the most seriousness you think you’ve ever seen in a three year old. you’d watched patiently before following his example, making your own shadow puppet dog. his eyes had widened in a look of subtle pride before he quickly got to his feet and shuffled over to the kitchen to demonstrate the shadow puppet to his father.

clearly worn out now, megumi yawns against toji’s chest, subconsciously curling further into his dad’s warmth, and you smile to yourself at the tiny notion. your eyes flicker up to toji’s, and you’re sure you see his own gaze soften as he watches the action, your husband’s jagged, tired features seeming to erode around the edges into something warmer, more gentle.

meeting your gaze, he smiles, the scar on his lip tilting upwards in a kind of weighted contentment. he’d always felt terrifyingly new to fatherhood: unfit for it, like he was filling in a space he didn’t quite know how to exist in, urging himself to fulfil a father role he’d never quite been able to know himself.

toji moves his other arm to rest around the boy’s back, touch surprisingly tender, rubbing soft circles into his back as megumi blinks, barely half-awake. you lean in from where you’re sat before softly speaking, careful not to startle him too much.

“…gumi, let’s get you to bed, okay?”

you pull yourself up off the floor as toji pulls megumi away from his chest. the boy blinks, slightly disoriented and still somewhat drowsy as toji helps him stand upright so that he can walk to your side. he picks up one of the dog plushies off the floor, trying and failing to stifle a yawn with his small fist. you smile, using a hand to ruffle the inky mess of dark spikes on his head.

“do you want to say goodnight to your dad first?”

the three year old nods sleepily, shuffling his way back to toji and slowly extending his arms in a tiny, almost shy attempt at a hug. toji smiles, pulling him in tight as your son winces, lip pushed out and brows furrowed as he tries to push toji away. his attempts are pointless, however, as he gets pulled in so that toji can press a kiss to his cheek. megumi shudders at the sensation of the scarred flesh against his face before immediately pulling away, brows furrowed as he shakes his head in disgust and wipes his face with his sleeve.

toji’s face immediately falls, his hand stilling on megumi’s back.

“what was that for?” the teasing tone is evidence in his voice as he tightens his grip on megumi, pressing two more firm kisses to the boy’s face in quick succession. he laughs roughly at the way megumi grumbles, the child’s cheeks puffed out and tiny hands outstretched, trying once more to distance himself.

you watch the scene unfold, toji’s scarred lip curling into a broad grin as he ruffles the boy’s hair. his arms are wrapped firmly around your poor son who continues to struggle, attempting to rid himself of the tight grasp, eyes screwed shut and trying to turn his face away.

another few kisses are pressed to his cheek and then his forehead in turn, with megumi huffing loudly and sticking his tongue out in disgust before finally breaking free of toji’s grip. as soon as he’s escaped, he rushes to hide behind your legs, trying to rub the kisses off his face with one of his oversized pj sleeves. his messy hair is somehow even more tousled from toji’s playful teasing and hair ruffles, his chest heaving dramatically with the exertion of getting out of toji’s grasp.

you pick megumi up before turning to look down at your husband, still sat on the floor with his smug grin.

“stop that, toji. leave him alone!” your husband grins up at you, shrugging playfully as you roll your eyes, turning your head to megumi. he’s gone silent now, perceptive gaze flickering between you and toji as though trying to gauge whose side you’re really on. you speak softly, voice hushed as though to reassure him.

“okay, let’s go upstairs and pick out your bedtime story gumi.”

you feel megumi cautiously twist in your arms so that he can face his father once more, wordlessly lifting a hand to offer a half-wave goodnight, eyes still slightly widened with a subtle sense of alertness, undoubtedly thanks to toji’s attack.

smiling at the sweet gesture, you turn to make your way up the stairs to megumi’s room with him in your hands, but not without catching toji’s playful response from the living room. his voice is softer, the usual roughness subdued into subtle tenderness.

“yeah, yeah. night, brat.”

author’s notes: this is for the anon who requested more dad!toji, i really hope you like this!! the concept had been on my mind for a little while so i was excited to get round to writing it ahh! i’m a firm believer that toji would 100% be a ragebaiter as a dad, him + grumpy/quiet megumi make such a funny duo i really love them🥹 taglist (thank you!!!): @mayegasm @nonchalantfiend @kissthesword @mochiakun @rielovesphel @yujismissingfingers @megumigooner @vanillaascented @megumisrighttoe @catgvrl @dreamydaredevil @stqrgumi @mariisagb @renrenrenren17

you run your fingers through sukuna’s soft pink locks, gently ruffling them as he melts further into your hold with every passing second. his arm stays snug around you while the two of you lie tangled on your couch, lazily watching reels from his phone.

that’s when you see it.

“sukuna.”

“hm?” he nudges you lightly when you go quiet, shifting just enough to glance up at you. “what’s up?”

“y-you…” you hesitate, fingers brushing through his hair again. this time a little more focused. “you have a grey hair!” you point at it, eyes wide.

he lets out a quiet huff. “so what?”

“wait— wait! there’s more!” your fingers keep searching, and he groans, tossing his phone aside.

“you done? it’s just a few grey strands. what’s the big deal?”

your expression crumples, nose scrunching in that way he knows too well… cute, but dangerous. his hand comes up instinctively, cupping your cheek.

“what are you crying about now, brat?” the “insult” doesn’t stick, it never did even from the moment he met you.

you don’t answer, just sniffle quietly, and he sighs under his breath before shifting. he maneuvers you down beside him on the too-small couch, half his body hanging off the edge, but he doesn’t care. his arms wrap around you, warm and steady.

“love,” he murmurs, voice low and gentle, “you gonna tell me why you’re crying, hm?” his thumbs brush the tears under your eyes.

you sniffle again. “it’s just that… it means you’re getting old…”

he huffs out a quiet laugh. “you worried i won’t be as handsome?”

you lightly swat his arm. “never! i’ll just have more competition…” you mumble, embarrassed, and he chuckles into your hair.

“i’m flattered you’re crying over me getting older.”

“when i get a grey, will you cry?” you pout, and his eyes flicker down.

“yes.” he answers without missing a beat.

“is it because i’ll be ugly—”

he bites lightly at the junction of your neck.

“ow— ow! it was a joke!”

he presses a soft kiss over the spot right after, lingering there as he buries his face into your neck. “no. i won’t cry because of that.”

“then what for?”

you feel the warm puff of his breath against your skin as he pulls you closer, arms tightening just a little.

“it’ll just means my dream is coming true…”

he lifts his head, looking at you with so much quiet adoration it makes your chest ache. his eyes soften, almost glassy, like he might cry if he let himself.

“i’ll grow old with you.”

after a few more dates with you sukuna decides its time that he actually makes this official. he has taken you on about four dates already, all of them ending really well.

you seem to like his presence and he definitely really loves yours. hes grown comfortable with you as well, still a little blushy but not as much.

he takes you out on a car ride today. he stops and gets some junk food before driving to the park. you both eat in the car, talking about nothing and everything.

sukuna finds himself laughing much easier when he's with you. he watches you take big bites of food, glad you're comfortable with him.

some crumbs collect at the corners of your mouth and he reaches out to wipe the off. you stop talking and stare at him before punching his shoulder softly.

"stop trying to flirt with me." you say shyly, giggling a little.

sukuna laughs with you, stealing one of your fries.

he doesn't say anything, just continues watching you eat happily. you don't notice at first, too busy talking and eating but then his silence gets noticable.

you look at him to see him already looking at you. he looks lost in thought, not even listening to your rambles anymore.

you reach out and shake his arm softly. "sukuna?"

“and and and, his smile ‘s just so beautiful,” you sigh dreamily, resting your head on satoru’s lap. you’re both enjoying the cozy night in your shared apartment. with no one bothering you—with no regards for the world that’s continuing its cycle outside.

satoru chuckles as he pats your head slowly, taking his time to appreciate every feature of yours. from your pink-ish lips to your pretty eyes. he’s so in love with the creation the universe has gifted him. he nods attentively, “yeah? what else?”

you giggle as he indulges you. it’s a habit of yours, to fangirl over your husband like you’re not literally his wife. satoru finds it absolutely adorable. plus, it boosts his ego. in a very good way.

“aaaand, he’s caring. that’s the one thing i love most about him,” you continue to ramble about your little ‘crush’ on the so-called ‘mysterious white-haired sorcerer’. satoru wishes he could capture this moment and keep repeating it over and over in his head.

the way you talk about your crush—him—is filling his stomach with butterflies. your husband can’t deny the faint blush on his cheeks and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. you keep getting cuter and cuter the more time passes.

when he thinks you’ve reached a state of perfection in his eyes, you prove him wrong and go beyond that. “caring, hm? he must treat my princess real good then,” satoru hums and continues petting your head. his other hand rubs your stomach—fingers creeping under the material of your nightgown.

“he does,” you nod in agreement, “he treats me so well. i don’t know how i got so lucky to have met him.” you squirm a little as you feel satoru’s slender fingers graze your midriff, going back down to your belly and then back up your chest again. his touch is so intimate and loving. you’re spoiled. spoiled rotten by his affection.

satoru sighs. his white lashes flutter shut for a second. hearing you say such stuff makes him want to check if it’s reality he’s in. if it isn’t another too-good-to-be-true dream of his. no one had loved him as much as you did.

it feels good to know that he’s wanted. needed.

“no, i think he is the lucky one,” satoru continues. his hand petting your head stops and he moves it to rub your cheek tenderly. he leans his head down, the tips of your noses touching. he whispers, “having a pretty girl like you love him so dearly… yeah, he’s won the lottery.”

your heart skips a beat. satoru’s words leave you speechless. you don’t know if you can keep up the little silly act anymore. his flirting, the teasing and the genuineness behind his words—it’s all too much.

you grab the back of his head and push his lips down against yours. satoru’s breath hitches for a second before he gives in to you. he visibly melts, eyes closing and hands tightening their grip around your body.

“mmh,” satoru lets out a content moan. he loves you. he’s glad he’s met you and he’s glad he made you his wife two years back. you’re the only one for him. death won’t do you apart—no—he promised you on your wedding day that it wouldn’t.

you kiss him like it’s your last kiss on earth. the spark between you is still as warm and strong as it was when you met. the people who’ve warned you about the ‘honeymoon phase’ are clearly all wrong. they aren’t aware of the strength your bond with satoru has. you’re inseparable.

“i love you,” you sigh against satoru’s glossy lips and he deepens the kiss after that.

somebody loves him. somebody cares for him. that’s all he needs in life. his life is complete with you in it.

he smiles against your lips and says the three words back, with more passion than ever before, “i love you too, my angel.”

nothing will ever separate you. not fate. not anyone.

sukuna wasn't one for affection. touch simply made his skin crawl. unfortunately, your love language was physical touch. the first few weeks of dating sukuna was the hardest. every touch you'd have to apologize for. it was hard for you.

you wanted to hold his hand or cuddle with him when you watched a movie.

you liked sukuna enough to get used to it. you used words or small gifts to show him your love and he was grateful you weren't too pushy about touch.

you were in the kitchen getting a cup of tea to drink. your tummy was hurting and tea always helped calm it down.

sukuna knew your stomach was hurting. he knew the routine you'd take. drink warm tea and put a heating pad till the pain went away.

sukuna also knew his hands were warm.

he sat on the couch listening to you warm up so water for your tea. he was debating going and helping you out. touch just wasn't something he liked but he wanted to help you. you were in pain and if he could help, he wanted to.

he got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen. your back was turned towards him and he allowed himself to think about this a little longer.

he was about to touch you.

he watched you hunch over the counter and hold your tummy while the water warmed up and he made his final decision.

he approached you and slipped his hands under your shirt. he pressed them onto your tummy, warming your skin with his hands.

he felt you freeze for a second before melting against him. he was tense. he wasn't used to this and he definitely didn't like it but he wanted to do it for you.

he hesitantly started to move his thumb gently over your skin. hoping to soothe the pain in your stomach.

you didn't say anything. you didn't even move. you were afraid one wrong move and he'd pull away.

sukuna stayed close though. evenutally hiding his face in your neck. he held you when you made your tea and followed you to your bedroom. he layed next to you, keeping his hand on your tummy.

husband!sukuna : sweet boy

you were inconsolable.

fat dollops of tears glide down your face leaving pearlescent streaks behind and giving your cheeks a rosy tinge.

you cover your face while simultaneously trying to swallow back the array of hiccups cascading out.

your current state wasn't due to any physical injury but rather an internalized feeling of such adoration for your son.

sukuna who previously had you tucked into the crook of his neck now pulls back. he tilts his head down to see your expression, comtemplating whether to continue with the consolation.

"shhh" he whispers, his voice low and then in a mocking tone "you make such a fuss, wife"

"i'm not making a fuss!" you huff out, dissolving further into tears, while sukuna slowly pats your back, a surprisingly tender gesture, reserved only for you...and his son.

baby!yuji now only four years of age, steps forward with a half eaten biscuit in his hand patting your hair, the remaining crumbs of it still there on the side of his cheek.

"i'm sorry mama" he says and it breaks your heart. pulling him into your arms you kiss his face "why would you say sorry baby" your eyes that had started to dry down, well up again.

he had no reason to be sorry, you had brought this upon yourself.

you’re in bed, propped up on your side and reading a book as the dim lamplight washes over your skin in hazy flickers. the house is uncharacteristically silent, with megumi in bed and toji away on a mission, and you sigh in relief.

it isn’t like megumi’s a particularly difficult kid — rather, he’s almost concerningly quiet for a four year old, his penetrating gaze unsettlingly perceptive at times — but he’s a kid nonetheless, and what with toji away on mission after mission to support your little family, you tell yourself that the least you can do is try. to fill in the gaps that are left, to show up, to be there for your son.

so you make it your life’s mission to give megumi your absolute undivided attention. to take him out to feed the ducks, to watch pokémon with him, to doodle with him.

sure, the overall family dynamic may be a little rocky and unfamiliar at times, but it’s yours nonetheless. after all, with toji insisting on taking up more and more missions to provide for you and megumi, it at least meant that you could spend more time with your son.

you smile to yourself a little when you hear the door from the hallway.

click!

you look up from your book just in time to see those familiar deep green eyes, the light of your lamp falling across the lick of pale flesh that curled its way across his lips to form a handsome scar. you prop yourself up on your elbows, smiling at your husband.

he looks worn down — exhausted — and yet he’s still wearing that familiar lazy smile he always seems to brandish only for you. he walks slowly to the bed, and you can’t help but note a tiny limp in his step, but you say nothing, instead watching as he sits down beside you, feeling the mattress sink with the added weight.

sitting up properly now, you inspect his face, your eyes raking across those tired, sincere features. you blink slightly at the sight of newly grown stubble. he’d only been gone a week, and yet within that time the gentlest lick of dark fuzz had appeared across his face.

“you’re back.” you breathe out, leaning forward to brush his hair back a little, thumbing through the straight inky strands. “gumi’s asleep…just put him to bed twenty minutes ago. i didn’t know you’d be back so soon, otherwise i’d have—”

you feel a big hand come to meet the crown of your head as he gently ruffles your hair with a smile, a silent attempt at calming your rambling. you lean into his touch almost instinctively, the gentleness of his touch entirely contradicting his sharp, jagged demeanour.

“nah, it’s okay. i missed you guys.” his voice is hoarse, rough around the edges but unmistakably laced with a kind of reserved tenderness.

you smile, and it’s not long before you’re both in bed, him now fully showered, a lazy arm resting around your waist. he exhales against your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut, practically breathing in the warm air around you both, the soothing motion of his thumb against your waist lulling you into a state of drowsiness until eventually you’re both asleep.

but that doesn’t last long. the blissful sleep, the gentle bubble of contented relief, is broken by the slivers of morning light across your face and the tug of a small hand on your sleeve. you blink drearily, lashes fluttering back shut slightly in a weak attempt to block out the intense morning light. you feel you vision begin to piece together eventually only to be met by your expectant 4 year old’s face staring up at you, expression serious.

“mommy. who’s that…?” he points at toji’s sleeping body with a tone of slight disgust, as though he’s just seen a pile of dirt in the place of his father.

you smile sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you slowly pull away from toji’s grasp. you gently kick your legs over the bed to fully face megumi now. “your dad, honey. two sec…let’s go get you breakfast, huh? then you can say hi to daddy when he wakes up, ‘kay?”

he doesn’t see to have any resignation as he follows you quietly, dark brows slightly furrowed and chewing his little lip as though he’s deep in thought. he follows you, wolf plushie tucked under his arm, his soft green pjs a bit too big for him, dragging along the floor. he pulls himself up to sit on a chair, watching as you quickly prepare his breakfast.

you slide a bowl of banana porridge across the table and sit across from him, a cup of coffee in your hand, watching with a smile as he eats, that thoughtful frown still plastered onto his young features.

”morning.”

you turn to see toji stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily, his messy flat hair slightly ruffled. clearly somebody slept well, at least.

he yawns and walks over to the table, kneeling next to megumi’s chair and wrapping an arm around his body towards him to pull him into a sleepy hug. the boy, however, grimaces a little, small hands pressed against tojis head as he tries to push him away with a look of utter distaste.

toji’s relentless though, smirking a little as he tries to press a kiss to the boy’s forehead before lifting him into his arms. megumi turns to face you seriously, small hands pressed firmly against toji’s right eye and cheek in a feeble attempt to get him off. “mommy. mommy, who is he?”

you pause, trying and failing to hold back a small laugh as toji’s face seems to drop, any lingering signs of sleepiness immediately leaving his face. he blinks harshly, looking as though he’s been stung, momentarily stunned, before eventually recovering from the blow and readopting his confident tone again.

“who else, kid? your dad.” he presses his forehead to megumi’s, his flat messy tufts of midnight black meeting your son’s own sea of dark spikes.

you watch megumi’s eyes narrow a little, soft lashes batting slightly as he stares intently at toji’s face, the cogs seeming to turn one by one in his mind as he tries to verify the words through that penetrating gaze.

no doubt, the kid’s perceptive for his age. scarily perceptive, you note.

he seems to somewhat accept the response however as he seems to relax a little in your husband’s arms, a single hand coming up to brush over the gentle stubble forming on his chin. he inspects it wordlessly, brows furrowed.

toji smiles briefly before leaning his chin forward to playfully tickle megumi with the scratchiness, his chin meeting the soft skin of the boy’s rosy cheek and causing him to gasp and lean backwards. he lets out a tiny unimpressed, almost exasperated gasp at the immaturity of the man stood before him, before eventually reacting to the relentless tickles, laughing slightly and playfully pushing his face away.

“take it off!” he squeals, his hand once again coming to meet the fuzz of dark hair on toji’s chin, exploring the unfamiliar texture against the soft skin of his own fingers. “…i don’t like you being a hedgehog anymore!”

“..a hedgehog..?” toji echoes the word with a slight tone of distaste. it was, truthfully, ironic: you had to stifle a laugh upon hearing the nickname come from the very boy with the spikiest, most hedgehog-like hair you’d probably ever seen a 4 year old have.

“yeah, go shave, hedgehog.” you mimic, grinning at toji as he sighs, rolling his eyes light-heartedly and placing megumi down to head to the bathroom.

he grumbles quietly as he leaves the room

“whatever. betrayed by my own son.”

author’s notes: this is a reupload of a fic i posted back in december ahh i hope you guys like it😓i edited and fixed up some parts because i didn’t like all of it dad!toji and baby megumi are so dear to me i love them and hope to write about them more in future!!

A/N: I really enjoy reading about baby Yuji. I just couldn’t resist writing one myself! This idea popped into my head out of nowhere. I hope you like it. Your feedback means a lot to me. ♡

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Your little son Yuji was a tiny troublemaker, always exploring everything around him. Ever since he started walking, he couldn’t sit still, and you were always chasing after him.

He loved it.

He enjoyed having his mother’s attention on him. After all, he was only eighteen months old, and you were his safe place.

He loved being in your arms. Without fail, every night he would wake up and wait for you to take him from his crib so he could sleep in your bed, and that was exactly what you did.

Falling asleep with the soft scent of your baby curled against you… it was one of your favorite things in the world—yet, it was undeniably hard, because your sleep was constantly interrupted.

Unfortunately, the one who truly suffered was your husband, Sukuna. The poor man was practically kicked out of his own bed every night. Yuji was constantly pushing him, kicking him, and pouting at him.

I need my mom. Not you.

That’s what it felt like.

Sometimes he'd give up and go to the living room, and other times he would stubbornly try to sleep on the very edge of the bed.

You were having one of those nights again. Yuji was crying at the top of his lungs as if his whole life depended on it. Anyone seeing him would think you had left him alone for hours.

Sukuna groaned, forcing his eyes open.

“Here we go again.”

You were practically on autopilot by now. Without even getting out of bed, you stretched out your arms toward your son in the crib that was practically attached to your bed.

The baby immediately buried his face in your neck, and you gently stroked his back, trying to calm him down.

“It’s okay… I’ve got you…”

Slowly… His sobs faded into soft hiccups.

You glanced at Sukuna, who couldn’t help but comment.

“He pulls the same trick every time.”

Sukuna’s voice was thick with sleep—and annoyance.

"He fakes crying, waits for you to pick him up, then leans on your chest and goes quiet.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Sukuna, he is a baby. Because he’s made a habit of sleeping with us, he panics and cries when he wakes up.”

“And whose fault is that? If you constantly let him sleep in your arms, this is what happens.”

“Then I’m happy to take the blame,” you teased. “I just can’t say no to my baby.”

He let out another long, dramatic sigh.

“Your baby constantly makes your husband sleep on the very edge of the bed or on the couch. Don’t you think about me at all? Don’t you ever say to yourself, ‘My poor husband can’t even sleep in his own bed’?”

You smiled and reached out to stroke his cheek. His bickering with Yuji already amused you.

“Sweetheart, he is still so little. When he grows up a bit more, this will end, trust me.”

“I highly doubt it. That brat has you wrapped around his little finger.”

You laughed softly.

“Don’t call our son that.”

When you noticed him lost in thought for a few seconds, you asked him what was on his mind.

“I think it’s time he gets his own room. If we set up a space for him and you stay by his side for the first few days, he’ll get used to it.”

You frowned, giving him one of those pouty looks he couldn’t resist.

“Sorry, hubby."

You hugged Yuji a little closer.

"But I have no intention of letting my baby sleep in a separate room just yet. How could you even come up with something so cruel for our little son?” You giggled.

He sulked.

“You two are exactly the same. Mother and son, you’re both against me.”

“No, we love daddy so much!"

You kissed Yuji and said, “Right, Yuji?”

His eyes were half-closed, and he hadn’t fully fallen asleep yet. You laid him down between the two of you and lay down next to him. You stroked your son’s hair and reached out to hold your husband’s hand.

“Good night again, my love.”

His fingers curled around yours and wished you a good night. Even though he knew it wouldn’t last long.

About ten minutes later, Yuji started tossing around, noticing the giant man next to him who constantly disturbed his comfort.

The baby let out a restless sound and turned toward you, trying to fall asleep.

When he felt a hand poke his arm purely with the intention of annoying him, he angrily kicked Sukuna in the stomach.

You hissed and shot your husband a look of exasperation.

“You deserved that. You annoy him, and then you complain that he doesn’t let you sleep and kicks you out of bed.”

Sukuna, completely unfazed, smirked.

“Why am I the only one suffering? Let him suffer a little too.”

Yuji’s response did not delay.

“Go!"

You bit back a laugh.

Sukuna scoffed.

"Bossing me around already, huh? You little brat."

And then your playful husband started tickling the poor, sleepy baby. When you heard your initially angry son slowly start to giggle, you knew there would be no such thing as sleep for the three of you tonight.

husband!sukuna : attachment issues

click.

after some rummaging and random swinging of the arm in the darkness, you finally switch on the lamp.

cracking your eyes open, you almost make out the time.

2:04 am.

you proceed to curse your own bladder for giving up on you post the birth of your son, baby!yuji. shoving the heavy arm off of you, you give it a light tap as if to assure it that you’ll be back.

a gesture mostly engraved into your autonomic nervous system.

you walk, half-asleep to the bathroom.

clicking it’s light on, you blink rapidly, and then failing to adjust to the assault of such brightness you squeeze your eyes shut and trudge on, purely on instinct.

you sit down, ready to relieve yourself, when the door you’d forgotten to shut close behind you, creaks open.

“mamamamama” baby yuji babbles on, rubbing his eyes with his little fists.

this had become routine for the two of you.

“mama what doin?” he questions,

“oh baby, mama’s just peeing” you rub your face, unfazed.

and then as if the party was just getting started, a much larger presence also appears, right behind your son.

“you see this, kid?" he grumbles, his expression as calm as possible while staring down at your six year old son.

he's trying to hide his minimal amusement the best he can, even though the thought of what he's about to do makes his lips twitch a little— beefy arms crossed over his chest, red eyes blinking slowly as he finally holds out his right hand, showing your little boy what's sitting in it.

"that's... an egg..?" your son mumbles, confused. he tilts his head, identical red irises focused on the normal sized egg looking smaller in his father's big palm.

sukuna chuckles, a hint of pride in his posture now. "hell yeah. E as in Egg, huh?"

"...i learned the alphabet years ago, dad." your son speaks with a blank expression, small hands fidgeting with his dragon toy, his attention already starting to fly past the egg and down to the plastic.

riiiiiight.

your husband clears his throat, speaking quietly as he snaps his fingers once, gently— grabbing the boy's attention. "yeah. my bad, kid. anyway, look at this."

he crushes the egg.

your son flinches, blinking rapidly as he looks at the crumpled egg shells in his father's hand, bringing his own hand up to twist some of his short, faint pink hair. "woah— where's the yolk?"

"it's a fake egg," sukuna laughs quietly. the sound of his rumbling laughter would be scary to any other kid (one of your son's friends cried once) but not your son. "fun, eh? now listen t'me."

he grabs his son by the shoulder— jeez, the kid needs more protein in him, he thinks as his big hand settles against his son's delicate bone. "i'm gonna give you another egg just like this one, 'kay? and we're gonna prank mama."

sukuna whispers the plan in his son's ear, the fucking menace he is.

and with the excited, happy glint in his son's eyes, he knows the plan's on.

you're busy preparing a smoothie for yourself, leaning against the kitchen counter while you gently peel a banana. the day was long, work was tiring, but being home with your little family is a gift. the only issue? your two favourite people are nowhere to be found. the house is dead silent, and you almost think sukuna took the boy out for a walk around the neighbourhood— which didn't end well last time because he taught your son how to test if a dog is friendly or not.

but then you hear little footsteps, and your son walks in with his hands behind his back, an innocent little smile on his face. your heart instantly feels that wave of warm affection that always comes over, even after years. "hey, kiddo. where's dad?"

"dunno," your son whispers quietly, shifting his weight from the heels to his toes with a small smile as he finally brings a hand to the front, "mom. watch."

splat.

your precious tiles are now covered with egg whites and the broken egg yolk now spills out, spreading slowly. one half of the egg shell lands comically close to your toe.

"what... what in the—"

your son's excitement is replaced by a mortified expression. "ah.. mom! that— dad said.."

a loud, dangerous bark of laughter interrupts the moment as your asshole husband stumbles in— one hand on his face, the other using the countertop for support. "fuck. i'm gonna piss myself."

his laughter gets accompanied by your son's instant, soft whine. the little boy starts running over to hug your stomach as he looks up, eyes shimmering with tears. he whines loudly. "ma, that was dad's idea, i swear! he said it was a fake egg!"

his small feet have dragged the egg with them, and now you're stuck in one place with a crying boy and an evil shithead for a husband... all with sticky egg yolk near your toes. you sigh heavily— a sign of your barely held together patience as you run a gentle hand over your son's head.

but not without burning holes through your husband's muscular back as he hunches over the counter with his laugh, practically coughing as he wheezes.

"ryomen sukuna."

the house stills.

your son's head reappears from your stomach, his chin pressing into it as he looks up at you. your husband's laugh fades, and he slowly— oh so slowly— turns his head to look at you.

red eyes meet yours without a hint of guilt, and maybe a little fear. "...wife."

your eyes narrow as you speak calmly. "you have ten seconds to get a mop."

your son smiles in satisfaction— because he is sukuna's blood after all, and he points at his father with all the sass a six year old can manage. "mop."

sukuna sighs, gently tapping his son's head with a rough grumble while tip-toeing past the egg on the floor. "c'mere, kid. you did this. gotta use you as a helper."

"mom!" your son yells loudly again, hands clutching onto your shirt as you fight back a smile at the sight of sukuna actually cleaning up the mess he's caused, using your foot to press it against his backside as you mumble. "get it squeaky clean, prankster."

you carry your son out of the kitchen carefully, avoiding the egg again, but making your way to the nearest bathroom so you can wash off any remnants of the whites on his feet. the both of you mumble something about 'dada being unfunny'.

meanwhile, your husband cleans the kitchen while still huffing proudly at the sight of the destroyed egg spread on the floor. "little shit didn't even hold back on the force. he's got my strength after all."

you and sukuna are snuggled up under the covers, his large arms wrapped around your bare torso with your own arms looped around his neck. and despite the seemingly sweet looking sight, the two of you are in a heated argument... about which buldalk noodles is the best.

"obviously it's the pink one!," you huff, scrunching your brows together in annoyance.

"no it's not!," he retorts, exhaling through his nose. "it is hands down the original one! the 2x spicy one is also a valiable contender."

"no way you actually enjoy the 2x spicy one. i'm sure it gives you mad diarhhea and makes you clog up the toilet more than you already do!"

"doll, that happened one time!," he grumbles, unintentionally squeezing your hips. "and anyway, i'm sure you just like the pink one cause it's pink," he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

you gasp exaggeratedly, making sukuna jump a little in your embrace, quirking his brow at your sudden outburst. before he can ask you what's wrong, you turn over to grab your phone, shoving it right in front of his face with the brightest flash on.

you quickly snap a photo of him — arguably one of the ugliest and goofiest ones you've ever taken of him — and you show it to him with a cheeky smile spread across your face, "if you don't agree with me, i'm sending this to toru and you know he's gonna show it to everyone we know!"

"holy fuck. you're really resorting to blackmail now, woman?! over noodles?!," he grumbles, scowling at you and your childish antics.

"perchance," you coo mockingly, your thumb hovering over the send button. "so... what's your verdict, suki?"

sukuna just cannot believe you at times. so, with a defeated sigh, he mumbles, "fine. the pink one is the best one."

you giggle giddily, like a kid who had just been handed all the candy in the world. "see! wasn't so hard now, was it my suki wuki?"

he lightly flicks your forehead which makes you wince and pout, making that adorable face he adores so much. "i let you call me suki despite my distaste for the pet name. don't push your luck, doll."