rose

𝓡.𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀ᅠ ͏͏ ͏͏ 🌷♡ ͏͏ᅠ ͏͏ ͏refuses to hold your baby

♡. 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓫. heian!sukuna :: slight angst :: fluff

"Do not bring that thing near me."

"This thing is your daughter."

The King of Curses sat upon his throne, and yet you had no issue glaring up at him. As if it were your stare that could cleave. Your hands that could ignite his shrine into blitz and ember.

Bundled in a silk blanket and babbling up at you with eyes as ruby as her father's, your daughter chewed on her thumb. Blissfully oblivious to the tyrant from which she came.

Sukuna refused to hold her.

It was subtle, at first. When she was born, he claimed that it was vital for a baby to stay close to its mother. For warmth, food and comfort.

It had been four weeks, and your husband hadn't so much as grazed her tiny pinkie.

"Why?" You asked, anger blooming in your throat like the flowers he had planted in the gardens for you. He would sully his knees in the soil and his hands in the mud for your benefit, but couldn't bear to hold the life that he had created?

Sukuna's face was hard in a scowl. Each maroon eye glaring into your soul.

A beat of silence.

"I do not want to."

You flared, clinging your baby closer. "Are you ashamed? Ashamed of the life we created?"

"No, damnit woman—"

"Then why!?"

"Because I will mar her!"

The shrine shook as he shoved himself out of his throne. Standing now. It was at his full height that you recognised the being thousands feared. Four arms, two faces, and a stature that rose from hell.

His glare burned, but it wasn't anger. Face twisted in an emotion you hadn't seen enough from him.

"I will— hurt her. Is that what you want?"

Vulnerability.

Your daughter startled. Sniffling at the booming voice that rattled the floors. You watched her face squish and her lip quiver, before a broken, hiccuped sob filled the air.

His shoulders sunk. The fight seeping out of him. You watched his eyes swell with many things you'd never seen before.

Guilt, sadness.

Fear.

Rocking your startled baby, you held her close with soft shushes, but her sniffles soon turned into wails. Sukuna's stood frozen, sullen.

You understood, now.

Cradling the small girl, you stepped forward. Up the stairs to the platform of his throne. Even as he took a step back, you persisted.

"Sukuna. . ." You called to him. Soft in the way that only you were capable of being with him.

He almost flinched.

"This child, she's ours. Our daughter, made with love."

You stood right in front of him now. Taking in his wound up muscles and squared shoulders. Looking more like a deer ready to sprint than a father.

A father who feared that his hands were too rough, too evil, to nurture his own child.

"You won't hurt her. Because she's ours." Reaching forward, you held out the sobbing bundle. Watching his face and the several shades of uncertainty it turned.

You had never seen him so. . . frightened.

You pushed past his hesitancy, carefully placing your daughter into a set of his hulking arms. She was tiny compared to him. Seemed he was processing that too.

Aiding his position, you slipped one of your hands to tenderly hold him by the bicep as he, for the first time ever, held his daughter.

His breath was hitched. All of his eyes gaping at the small bundle in his arms. Watching her as if she were the most delicate piece of porcelain.

Your daughter's sobs stirred into sniffles, then hiccups, until. . . silence.

As big, ruby eyes stared up at her father. Taking him in. His face, his warmth.

And then, she beamed a toothless smile.

Sukuna tensed. A shaky breath hitching.

"She's— she's smiling. Why is she smiling?"

He quickly looked to you. Brows pinched. Looking lost, looking scared.

You offered him a smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Because she knows that her father loves her." Tickling her neck, you hummed as she squirmed a bit and giggled, pressing more into him.

He instinctively held her closer. Eyes unblinking.

You watched as Ryomen Sukuna, The King of Curses, melted. His heart swelling as he stared at his daughter. Even bringing one of his fingers closer to her, so that she could grab at it. Hugging around it with that big, bring smile.

His mouth quirked at the corner. Faint, but tender.

"Yeah. . ." He whispered, voice thick with emotion. Centuries worth of affection for his child, his daughter.

"Your father loves you. More than anything. More than life."

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/cheriisoda. art cred: @/lacquerheadd

✴︎ heian era!sukuna with his teething daughter

he'd offered the finger as a formality. a courtesy. something for the baby to grip while he assessed whether her reflexes were developing at an marginal rate.

"watch," he said, lowering one enormous finger toward the baby's hands. "she has my grip. even now she—"

the baby grabbed his finger, yanked it toward her face, and bit down.

"—she," sukuna continued, a half-second too late to maintain any dignity, "is biting me."

sukuna's expression did not change. internally however, several alarms went off.

"...woman."

you didn't even look up from refolding the laundry. "yes?"

"your daughter is eating me."

"she's not eating you. she's gumming on you. it's a teething thing."

"she has applied her entire jaw to my finger."

"babies don't have much jaw strength, 'kuna."

"clearly," he said, "you have never had this jaw applied to you," and then immediately looked like he regretted phrasing it that way, because you finally looked up, eyebrows raised, and he had the distinct displeasure of watching you decide whether to comment.

you decided to comment.

"is the king of curses," you enunciated slowly, abandoning your folding "being overpowered by an infant with no teeth."

"she has some teeth."

"two." you quirked helpfully.

"two is sufficient," sukuna seethed, with the air of a man defending a strategic position that had already fallen 7 seconds ago "tell her to release me."

"she's your daughter. you tell her." a mischievous tilt on your lips as you suddenly found the laundry interesting again.

he looked down. the baby looked back up at him—entirely unbothered, delighted, his finger still firmly between her gums—and made a small happy noise around it, like she was settling in for the long haul.

"release," sukuna told her, in the same flat tone he used to order executions.

she did not release. red eyes much like her fathers staring right back at him.

"i said release, spawn."

she gnawed with feeling.

sukuna sat with this for a long moment. you watched him have, visibly, an entire internal negotiation with himself, the outcome of which was never actually in doubt.

"fine," he said at last, to no one. "fine—she may continue, briefly, as a — as a developmental exercise."

"sure."

"for her jaw."

"mhm."

"i'm doing this for her." he could sense the sarcasm in your tone.

"no totally, i get you."

he settled back, finger still very much occupied, four eyes fixed on the baby with an expression that — on anyone else — you would have called soft. on him you didn't say it out loud, because the one time you had, years ago, he'd denied it so aggressively he'd nearly set something on fire.

the baby drooled happily onto the king of curses' hand and made no further comment.

neither did he, for the better part of an hour.