Mornings with baby daddy Sukuna after giving birth.
Domestic, fluff, suggestive 🍼
Morning with your husband have never been quiet. Not because of noise but because of his presence.
You wake at five a.m., the sky still dark, the world hushed like it’s holding its breath. Your body moves before your mind does, practiced now. Two months postpartum and motherhood has etched routine into your bones. You rise slowly from the bed, the soft cotton of your maxi dress whispering against your legs, hips swaying with that familiar, lingering pregnancy walk you haven’t quite lost yet.
Sukuna’s arm slips from around you. Not because he’s asleep. Because he’s always aware for the love of his life.
You feel his gaze follow you even before you turn back. He’s propped against the headboard, massive frame relaxed but alert, eyes half-lidded and sharp as ever. Seven feet of power contained in bare skin and lazy attention. To the outside world, he’s terror incarnate.
But to you? He’s watching to make sure you don’t strain yourself.
“You’re up,” he says quietly.
The baby stirs in his crib.
Your baby.
Yuji, round, warm, impossibly soft. Pink hair already unruly, cheeks so chubby they strain his little expressions, eyes wide and dark and yours. Sukuna’s genetics stamped him boldly, but those eyes soften everything.
“Morning Suki,” you whisper fondly, brushing a thumb along his cheek.
Sukuna hears it.
His mouth twitches.
He likes that name more than he’ll ever admit. You feed Yuji in the low light, rocking gently. The house smells like milk and sleep and warmth. Sukuna stands nearby, arms crossed, watching like a sentry. His gaze flicks between you and the baby: protective, possessive, something deeper.
“Tch,” he mutters when Yuji fusses louder. “He knows.”
You glance up. “Knows what?”
“Whenever I try to make a move on ya,” Sukuna replies flatly. “I swear this kid’s doing it on purpose.”
You laugh softly.
Jealousy looks strange on the king of curses but with Sukuna, it’s quiet. Controlled. It shows in the way he steps closer, the way his hand settles at your lower back as if grounding himself.
When Yuji finally settles, you return to bed.
Sukuna pulls you in immediately. His arm wraps around your belly. Instinctive, familiar hand spreading wide, thumb moving in slow, circular strokes that say you’re safe, you’re here, I’ve got you. He presses his mouth to your neck, kisses laid there like punctuation.
You sigh.
“You still do that, I’m not pregnant anymore.” you murmur.
“Because it works,” he says simply.
He breathes you in. Deep. Like scent matters. Like you matter.
“You walk the same,” he adds suddenly. You smile faintly. “I do?”
“Yes.” His hand tightens just slightly. “Slow. Careful. Like your body remembers carrying him.”
There’s something reverent in his voice. Pride without words.
“I like it,” he admits.
Morning grows brighter.
Breakfast is domestic chaos done quietly. You sit at the table in oversized pyjamas now because Yuji threw up some milk on your night dress, hair wild, lips still flushed from sleep, skin glowing without effort. Sukuna moves through the kitchen like he’s the best daddy in the world. Garbage taken out. Counter wiped. Bottles warmed. Yuji cradled against his chest with surprising ease.
Anyone who saw him like this wouldn’t believe the stories. Sukuna feeds Yuji with careful focus, watching his tiny mouth, adjusting his grip, murmuring under his breath when milk dribbles down those ridiculous cheeks.
“Greedy,” he mutters affectionately.
Yuji gurgles.
“See?” Sukuna says. “He gets that from me.”
You watch from the doorway, heart full.
Later, you move around the house folding laundry, straightening things, existing in that soft domestic rhythm that still feels unreal sometimes. Sukuna follows you like gravity. Not hovering. Just there.
Every time you pass him, his hand finds you.
Your waist.
Your lower back.
Your belly.
Always grounding. Always claiming.
“You’re in my way,” you tease when he crowds you at the counter.
“I don’t care,” he replies calmly, nudging his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing you in like it’s necessary. “You smell so good and feel so soft. It’s not my fault.”
“Suki,” you sigh. “You’re distracting.”
“Good.”
He presses a kiss just below your ear, lingering. His arms encircle you easily, your smaller frame fitting against him like it was designed that way.
“I love you,” he says suddenly, voice low, unguarded. “You given me everything, woman.”
You lean back into his chest.
Outside, people fear him. They stare when you walk beside him—tiny next to his towering frame, hand lost in his. They see danger.
They don’t see this.
They don’t see how he watches your slow steps.
How he softens when you’re tired.
How he gets jealous of his own son and laughs at himself for it. How he treats you like something precious and earned.
And Sukuna?
He has never been more certain of anything in his life than this:
You.
This home.
This soft, feral, domestic morning are his greatest victories.
Tags: childbirth, pregnancy, miscarriage mentioned, implied infanticide, soft!geta (if you squint), historically accurate practices, NOT BETA READ SO IF YOU SEE SOMETHING WONKY NO YOU DIDN’T, good ole fashioned misogyny
AN: Tollere Liberos is in reference to an ancient Roman tradition where a father decides whether or not to accept a newborn as their child. Rejected children were abandoned via ‘expositus’ (aka dead ass just leaving a baby out in the wilderness). So basically girldad!geta but historically accurate lol. Enjoy!
It had only been an hour since you birthed her—a sweet little creature with curls the color of honey and supple skin like the flesh of a ripe plum. With a mighty wail fit to be heard across an empire, she came into the world. Your goddess, Juno, generously granted her the health and strength you prayed for. You rejoiced, though your joy was not shared.
The midwives cleaned your daughter in grave silence, save for the whispers of the politic-men gathered to witness the birth of Rome’s divine son. They huddled together in the far corner of the chamber as your girl laid against her mother’s chest for the first time.
“It cannot be true—look again!” Geta frantically commands the weary doctor. He paces across the marble floor in a state of distress. A litany of expressions troubles his face; disbelief, panic, betrayal.
“My lord, it is not what was desired, but I assure you—the child is female. You have my greatest sorrows.” The doctor mournfully bows his head, knowing better than to look the short tempered prince in the eye.
Geta was persistent, diligently sewing his seed in your womb since your holy union. You passed two of his children as blood, and he held you as you suffered through the pain. He watched your body grow when his efforts succeeded, massaged your taut skin with olive oil, and fed you bread soaked in sweet wine when you felt ill. He even kneeled at Jupiter’s alter to call for the safe delivery of his first son and the health of his wife—All these precautions only to be cruelly slighted.
“The gods have punished me, yet I’ve done nothing but bend to their will.” Geta holds his head in disbelief, his devastation made evident by a deep scowl.
Senator Gracchus tentatively approaches your distraught husband, resting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
“My lord, we must atone for our offenses, whatever they may be. It is a grave misfortune indeed, but your bride—“
Rage ignites across Geta’s face as he pulls away from his constituent’s touch.
“Speak tactfully of your empress if you wish to keep your tongue, Senator.” He seethes through a tight jaw. Gracchus relents, his tone softening considerably. He continues slowly and with caution.
“Two winters have passed since your union, and she has yet to bring forth an heir of Rome. Her body has proved inhospitable. The gods have sent a message, and it would be foolish to turn a cheek—you must heed this omen! ”
Geta takes a moment, carefully considering the senator’s plea for reason. He looks back to you, Obsidian eyes gazing down at the linen sheet that obscures your sleeping child.
“I am a conduit of their will. Tollere Liberos will prevail and the gods will decide through me.” Geta turns to you fully. Your heart becomes heavy in your chest as you search your husband’s face for tenderness, but see nothing but solid stone.
In your dreams, you imagined the day Geta approached his first heir as sweet—that he might kiss your reddened cheeks and proudly claim his child. Never did you think the sight of him would cause you to tighten your grip and cower away. He looms over the bed where you lay exhausted and perspiring—like a holy monument.
“Show me the child.”
“My love, I beg you—“
“Your emperor commands it.” Geta callously interrupts.
You unwrap your daughter in your arms, trembling hands moving as gingerly as possible. She shifts in her sleep, curling her precious limbs toward her delicate body, but does not wake. Geta’s eyes widen at the sight of her.
“So it is true. My faithful wife’s womb has betrayed me.” His gaze softens. Something stirs behind it, but you are not sure what.
“If you wish to return her life, then be merciful and do the same with mine.” Your heart twists and aches, your love for your emperor becoming a knife in your rib.
To your shock, Geta reaches out to his daughter, takes her tiny fist in his palm, and runs a thumb over her blushing knuckles. She wraps her hand around her father’s finger with a mighty yawn.
You have seldom seen your restless husband become so still.
“She bears your resemblance.” Geta’s voice is but a whisper. His gaze doesn’t stray from her. It appears his heart aches the same as yours.
“And a head of golden hair.” You can only offer an exhausted smile.
Geta takes his daughter into his arms for the first time.
“The gods have spoken!” He declares to the small gathering of senators. Your emperor raises his girl above the laurels atop his head. Some look on with horror, and others with pride.
“She will have my name! It is done.”
As your daughter’s first weeks pass, Geta’s tenderness only grows. In the lavender hours of dawn, you wake to find him cradling her in the crook of his arm. He speaks to her softly.
“Poor girl, you have wounded your father’s pride. My, what tragedy.”
You smile at the sound of her gentle crooning as your husband assuages her back to sleep.
“A son would belong to Rome—but you, dear Septima, will belong to me.”
Going for a meal with the president of a certain company, first time in about two years.
He’s lost so much weight, I started to wonder if he’s sick.
The motsunabe was delicious.
Accidentally entered the wrong parking space number and paid a stranger’s parking fee.
An early Merry Christmas to the stranger.
That’s where I’m at right now.
2020.10.27 Lime:
In the morning, I filled the bathtub, but gas work was underway, so it's a cold-water bath.
Not knowing that, I jumped in with my usual energy and almost died.
I don’t buy plastic bags at the convenience store, but then I realize I have no bags to put my eco-life trash in, and it’s always a problem.
What do you all do?
Someone once passionately told me: “Never trust people who say their specialty is meat and potato stew. That’s the dish people who can’t cook try to make.” And somehow, I was convinced.
During a meeting, I told Reiki, whose zipper was wide open, “Your zipper’s down,” he replied with “Yeah, I just went to the bathroom” and continued the meeting with it wide open. I thought, No, close it!
I was bewildered by the cultural differences between us.
I bought a new pillow, but it made my neck hurt, so I gave it to Dog-sama.
He started happily kneading it in seconds.
I switched to a toothbrush that makes crackling sounds when you press too hard.
It’s been crackling non-stop.
That’s where I’m at right now.
2020.10.28 Lime:
My eyelid has been twitching since morning.
I always search Yahoo Answers for people with the same symptoms to find relief. The "best answer" is always the same: Go to the hospital.
I dropped my iPhone and cracked it. Decided to switch to iPhone 12.
Had a meal with Hizumi-san.
Even though sashimi was the main dish, I got hooked on a mysterious fried sweet potato side dish.
I got stopped by the police for questioning.
They're suspicious of the contents of my wallet, which is still full from the teeth grinding the other day.
There’s a high chance that there will be a can of Georgia in the front basket of a bike I don’t even ride.
The Ghost of Tsushima update is fun.
Reiki replied 12 hours after my message was marked as read.
The time difference is confusing.
That’s where I’m at right now.
2020.10.29 Lime:
Today’s summary
For the second day in a row, I get stopped by the police.
My aura is impossible to hide.
Opening a gift sent to the office with the police.
A scary-looking knife comes out.
Mentally preparing myself to be on tomorrow’s Yahoo News.
Turns out it was a letter opener.
Safely met up with Reiki.
Started drinking from noon and kept going for 8 hours straight.
The taxi driver mistook me for a girl.
He gave me a discount, even though I’m a guy. So kind.
My beloved dog was wary of me because of the strong smell of alcohol.
Bribed him with treats.
Am I the only one whose joints start hurting when they drink too much?
Today, I wish for a world where we can have live shows without having to overthink it.
2020.10.30 Lime:
Today’s summary
I hate having a number assigned to me.
But I gave in to convenience and got My Number Card.
The photo came out looking better than expected.
Gacha was a failure.
Ran into a friend I haven't seen in years.
Someone thought a stranger walking next to me was my girlfriend.
We were walking at the same pace.
Motsunabe with a junior.
Even though it was evening, I could still feel the alcohol I drank with Reiki.
How long did we drink?
The humidity in the room is 82%.
It's practically underwater.
I always debate whether to put on pants when picking up Uber Eats.
I picked it up in just my underwear.
Going to sleep.
.
Can’t sleep, so I end up watching Shoumetsu.
Something about Heisei gives me goosebumps.
A man who keeps going even when a string breaks.
With Juuku, we messed up the setlist and started grinning. It was actually supposed to be Juunana.
Teamwork that somehow works through just eye contact.
The production staff frantically panicking. Sorry.
I really want to see the live crew soon.
Dog-sama’s snoring is loud, but adorable.
2020.11.01 Lime:
Eh, there are people who look forward to summaries of such pointless days?
.
Summary of the day
Shaking Shaka Shaka fries.
Tried writing a song but forgot how to.
Shaking Shaka Shaka fries.
Halloween was over before I knew it.
My timeline is full of cosplay, but my cosplay phase is over. It's kinda embarrassing.
Browsing SUUMO.
My brain is bugging out, wondering if it's okay to live in Amagasaki.
Shaking Shaka Shaka fries.
Had a Zoom meeting, but the manager’s background was so weird, it distracted me.
Kyonos was completely motionless, like a still image.
Dog-sama was having fun on the balcony again today.
Became samurai with Yue.
Shaking Shaka Shaka fries.
In other words, I’m addicted to Shaka Shaka fries.
2020.11.04 Lime:
Ate with a junior at his restaurant, and his junior became my junior.
After that, I randomly ran into a different junior, and he said he was about to meet up with a senior.
So I thought, 'Oh, another junior,' but it turned out to be a senior.
Then, in another conversation with yet another junior, he said that he knows a guy who once passionately, while crying, declared he'd take a bullet and die for Lime.
My first thought was, 'Wait, what country is that guy even from?'
Turns out it was Reiki.
The motsunabe was delicious, I'm the type who likes to serve hot pot for others.
My junior’s junior’s junior is still my junior.
My sneakers are wearing down at an insane rate.
I’m glad Japan isn’t a gun society.
2020.11.21 Lime:
Talking to the guitar.
2020.11.26 Lime:
Singing for a Jingai video.
2020.11.24 Lime:
People often ask me how to get through tough times,
But honestly, I’ve never really gotten through them.
I just forgot.
Or maybe I’m just good at pretending I forgot.
We’re all weak when it comes to moving on
Everyone is equally fragile.
If you want to get through it, just living means you've overcome it.
2020.12.02 Lime: I asked my friend to paint the image I had in mind on my guitar, and it came back carved. That's insane. I'm excited for the live show.
2020.12.09 artMIKAGE:
I had the honor of drawing on the main guitar of Kizu's Lime-san. The title is "Naraku" (Abyss).
I was asked to create it with the image of hell in mind, so I based it on "The Spider’s Thread," a story I’ve loved since I was little.
I was told I could do anything I wanted, so I carved it—so it never fades.
Back when I was writing lyrics for someone as a job,
I spent a whole week shadowing and interviewing that person.
I’m listening to songs from back then.
Strangely, some words shine brighter when they are sung by a human.
2021.09.16 Lime:
When I carry my Boston bag,
The police often starts talking to me.
2021.09.21 Lime:
When I have braids, the police often starts talking to me.
2021.10.02 Lime:
This is the 6th version of Strawberry Blue for me.
But I think what you all will listen to will be something like the 72nd version.
2021.10.08 Lime:
(MUCC - Kokoro no naimachi)
I think I’ll probably love it for the rest of my life.
2021.10.06 Lime:
Today I sang passionately while driving a rental car for some errands at home.
By the way, when I stuck my face out the window, people would let me pass.
Everyone was so kind.
2021.10.10 Lime:
When I undo my braids,
I get to enjoy having Taro Hakase hair for a while.
I want people to know how cost-effective that is.
By the way, when I undid my braids
I was happy to be back to normal,
But a staff member just laughed and said,
Lime-san, even without braids, you’re not normal.
What even is normal…?
2021.11.11 Lime:
About 6 months ago,
A musical score I never heard before suddenly came to my mind.
To recreate that emotion, I had to learn a new vocal technique.
It was a lot of work, but I'm glad I did it.
I think Strawberry Blue will be even more inspiring than any of the songs that shocked everyone when they first heard Kizu.
I think we ended up creating something extraordinary.
2021.11.13 Lime:
Just now
I’ve been released from the shackles of recording.
Mastering is finally complete.
I cried together with Reiki.
Heading straight into the live.
I'm in high spirits today.
2021.12.01 Lime:
Ever since I set up a shisha in the studio, I can't get anything done.
2021.12.08 (Strawberry Blue released) Lime:
With this work,
Rather than thinking about it,
I want you to feel it.
It’s not about the band Kizu,
I just want to feel, together with all of you,
What a wonderful thing music is.
2021.12.09 Lime:
I think we’re a band you won't get bored of.
What kind of Kizu we’ll show you next?
I have expectations for my future self.
Daenerys and Ser Jorah + kiss text scene - Requested by Anonymous
Ser Jorah slid his arms around her.
“Oh,” was all Dany had time to say as he pulled her close and pressed his lips down on hers. He smelled of sweat and salt and leather, and the iron studs on his jerkin dug into her naked breasts as he crushed her hard against him. One hand held her by the shoulder while the other slid down her spine to the small of her back, and her mouth opened for his tongue, thought she never told it to. His beard is scratchy, she thought, but his mouth is sweet. The Dothraki wore no beards, only long moustaches, and only Khal Drogo had ever kissed her before. He should not be doing this. I am his queen, not his woman.
It was a long kiss, though how long Dany could not have said. When it ended, Ser Jorah let go of her, and she took a quick step backward. “You… you should not have…”
“I should not have waited so long,” he finished for her. “I should have kissed you in Qarth. I should have kissed you in the red waste, every night and every day. You were made to be kissed, often and well.” His eyes were in her breasts.
Dany covered them with her hands, before her nipples could betray her. “I… that was not fitting. I am your queen.”
“My queen,” he said, “and the bravest, sweetest, and most beautiful woman I haver ever seen. Daenerys-”
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