after carrying your son around in your stomach for 9 months, and pushing through 8 hours of intense labour, you are now staring down at your beautiful baby boy with tired eyes.
he is beautiful, but he looks exactly like his father.
you huff. "he looks exactly like you"
"don't sound too excited" sukuna jokes, smoothing over yujis scarce pink hair.
you inspect the baby further, peering at his pink hair, the exact same shade as his daddy's, as well as the same skin tone and his little mouth laying perfectly flat along his face while he sleeps. your eyes follow his chubby arms and fingers and belly, baby fat almost promising that he will get as big and strong as his dad.
then you look up to his father, kuna's face resting in the same serious line while you watch him watching yuji. you reach up and cup sukuna's cheek. when his gaze meets yours you take in the details of his pretty eyes, his tattoos, and his markings below his eyes.
you snap your head back to yuji.
"kuna he even has your little markings" you whine, "he looks nothing like me... i pushed out your fatass baby and carried him for 9 months the least he could do is look a little like me.." you continued on.
sukuna holds back a laugh and smooths over your hair, "the next one will look exactly like you.. maybe a pretty little girl."
you grumble a little more but inevitably settle down and lay back onto the pillow. with yuji in your arms, and sukuna leaning over you both, carressing yujis face, you all sit there for a while.
yuji babbles a little in his sleep and cracks a little smile. "he must be dreaming" you softly mumble with a smile.
sukuna looks back and forth between you too. "he has your smile"
if you weren't so tired, you would've jumped for joy. "really?" you tuck yourself against sukunas chest, nuzzling him slightly.
poor papa!kuna was completely helpless when it came to his newborn daughter 𝜗𝜚
nonstop crying. that's all sukuna’s heard for the past fifteen minutes; loud wails echoed through the pastel nursery, adorned in adorable plushies and colorful toys.
and in the center of it all was the massive pink-haired king of curses.
ironically, he’d never felt more terrified in his entire existence than in this moment. staring at the crimson, scrunched face of his newborn daughter. tiny balled fist and feet flailing angrily in his arms.
he had no clue how to be a father, much less deal with an angry newborn.
the irony of it all dawned on him, a man who provoked fear into souls merely by breathing, receiving the same treatment from a mortal who’d been here less than a week.
he turned to the corner you’d been sitting in helplessly, “how do you make it stop?”
“figure it out, kuna, you’ll have to learn soon enough.”
briefly, his jaw ticked at the dismissive response, ‘figure it out??’ as if it were that simple. like, there was a manual on this type of thing.
with a huff, he glanced back at the baby, attempting to bounce her in his beefy arms now. one comedically large hand cradling her neck and stroking her pink, downy hair.
“the sound is making my ears bleed.”
“it only gets worse the more you make her wait.”
his lip curved slightly, almost catching himself smirking. the apple clearly didn’t fall far from the tree.
“sounds like a brat i know.”
a knowing laugh came from your end, but the crying didn’t stop. almost as if the world dared to test his warily thin patience. he finally gave up, completely out of ideas.
“christ, woman, just tell me what she wants …”
with a sigh, you finally sit up in the rocking chair. “food, attention, changing…?? come on, kuna, she’s a baby, she’s not going to tell you. and i can’t always either.”
and suddenly his eyes lit up, quickly shifting her in his arms again, his touch surprisingly delicate. as if he realized he was holding his entire world.
he leaned in, attempting this whole ‘father’ thing. something he’d seen his brother jin try on his gremlin nephew yuji a week earlier. forcing himself to make silly faces and sounds, “look–look at papa!”
silence.
abruptly, she stopped crying, her little face contorting in pure horror as she watched this huge man poorly try his hand at amusing her. horrific enough to make her earlier wails dissolve into quiet whimpers.
sukuna paused; you paused, the only sound her tiny sniffles.
a small snort left your lips before you quickly forced it down. someone was already inheriting their father’s unimpressed attitude.
“clearly, you peek-a-boo and a few silly faces aren’t cutting it for our majesty.”
sukuna’s face turned a bright red, feeling like a damn baffoon—a dancing jester trying to entertain a queen.
“damn brat,” he grunted, glaring at the now content baby. “already starting, i see.”
before she could do anything else, he’d already pushed her back in your arms, as she’d burned him. which, to him, she certainly did.
he stormed off, muttering something about never doing that again. and making jin pay for embarrassing him.
the baby watched curiously, thumb innocently in her slobbering mouth while tracking her father’s retreating figure.
she was already planning to be his biggest brat yet.
₍^. .^₎⟆ sukuna vs his wife's mini-me's
ft. true-form!sukuna & your five mini-me's
cw, pregnancy, childbirth, f!reader ⋆ all ages can interact!
i got inspired by this pin! lingli & gyokuyou are so cute & i love the thought of girl-dad!kuna
sukuna loves you more than he thought he could actually love a person, but it just had to be you. you have consumed his life, six times over, in the form of five versions of you. all chubby-cheeked, pure-eyed, and squealing. you were once the only person worthy of regard until your five daughters came along. now it's all of you against him, clearly keeping his hands full and days long.
your relationship was normal, for the most part. sukuna had come across you near a pond as you ventured off with little regard for your safety or surroundings. your feet were dipped into the shallow water, away from the festivities of new year’s in the town you lived in. you sipped from the pond, a vile habit as you popped your slender finger into your mouth with a delighted hum and faint smile at the flavor. he’d come to find out that you just thought that all water resources provide drinking water, like it’s ready to drink! the water has minerals, you think?
anyhow, you became his wife not long after, as he had his eyes set on you and formally introduced himself. he’d refer to you as lady or woman, while you would drawl out a whiny kunaaa whenever calling for him. he began calling you wife after your marriage, maybe a bit too much. he had a contempt for when you’d call him just husband, thinking ahead as he needed a fitting name in front of others, or so you thought! it dwelled in the back of his mind at times, did your feelings change? until you’d start up with kuna whenever you were in bed or in private together. he didn’t enjoy it when you pushed to give him curt nods in front of others. you’re his wife, and people must be aware.
you loved every detail of him, sukuna often waking to your delicate hands stroking his face. you’d sometimes tickle the mouth on his stomach; others had seen it as grotesque, for whatever reason. he has no idea why you’d waste your sleep on these little things and stay up doing whatever it is you’re doing. his sets of eyes would open suddenly, flickering over to you sitting up in bed. his arms cross over you, “go back to bed, wife.” you’d curl up closer to him, against his nude chest, and doze off fast. you are nothing like him at all. tender, considerate, very endearing, as expected of the woman to become his wife and the sole person in his life he cares passionately about. he’s potent, competent, threatening— some might just say a monster. everyone tells him his offspring will be great, like their father.
so when you do conceive his child, your first pregnancy of four, twins at that. yours and his servants alike would tell him it was only predestined you’d bear twins due to his genes and sure to produce outstanding heirs for the throne. your bump protruded with life, your children growing ample and strong. you were proud of the life you were creating with him. “kunaa, can you please massage my calves?” you press soft kisses along his jaw with your hand resting against your belly. you smile sweetly at him, truly expecting him to do it!
his eyes are piercing, brows furrowed with his lip curling into a scowl. “why would i do that?” he retorts, crossing his arms over his chest as your eyes gleam up at him, your lips pressing a kiss to his furrowed brows. “because i loove you! so you’d do it,” your finger drags down his chest to the knot of his robes, “and… for your children.” he sighs, propping your legs over his lap and tuts, glancing away as sukuna starts massaging the backs of your calves. you swear he’s trying to break your legs or something, sukuna’s got ham-hocks for hands. “ow! what’s wrong with you?” you yelp, even his expression startled at you, suddenly jerking. “deal with it. you asked me, didn’t you?” he mutters under his breath, yet his hands take a different approach, milder and with more cautiousness now. your head bobbles cheerily. “you’re going to be a good father to our babies.” sukuna meets your eye, letting out a slight grunt. “of course. those are my heirs,” he’d know, everyone has said it— his heirs will be born nothing short of excellence.
your twins were born on a fairly clear day. from night to morning, you panted through contractions as nursemaids tended to you. sukuna stood outside your corridor, only left to linger until the impending delivery of your heirs. your nursesmaids arrived momentarily to bring him to your side, “my lord— your heiresses have been born, they’re being bathed now.” he hesitates, almost as if he heard the women speak wrong. heiresses? soft gurgles and shrill squeaks fill the calm air, further behind the women, belonging to two small bundles in your and a nursemaid's arms. his heiresses, his delicate daughters— look every bit of you and only you. they didn’t inherit a single trait of his.
they’re both chubby little things, not even able to twist their neck or form a real smile, lips twitching in effort. “my two little heiresses.” he takes one daughter into his large hands, looming next to the bed. from their hair to their feet, they’re your mini-me’s. your lips curl up into a peaceful smile, drained due to the long labor. “she looks like you!” sukuna huffs. he doesn’t see it at all. your daughter's eyes blink open— your pupils stare up at him, slightly baby-grey, but undoubtedly going to turn to the exact color of yours. your other daughter is just as identical to you as this one. “she doesn’t. these two, my heiresses, will go on to do extraordinary things.” you smooch their tiny heads, soft wisps brushing against your lips.
sukuna peers over the bassinet. those two gurgling, cooing at him. they’re in fact not menacing like him— not even an ounce of fire. “i think she’s hungry!” you pull your daughter into your arms, bouncing her gently as you prepare to nurse her again. they don’t even cry out in frustration, they both whimper and flail, their bottom lip jutting out and eyes wet with fresh tears. she immediately squeals, nursing in pure elation. “good girl!” sukuna often time sees you with the twins in your arms, tone delicate and hands tender. “tch.” he sighs, your remaining daughter being lifted out of the bassinet by him. “don’t you know who your father is?” he murmurs, your baby girl only cramming a fist in her mouth with a drooly smile, burbling. they don’t even cry at the sight of him. how is this possible?
he doesn’t know how you persuaded him, but you did. he’s sleeping soundly with an arm secured around you— “papa!” he scowls instantly, his eyes opening toward the edge of yours and his shared bed. five matching pupils stare back at him with identical hands pressed to their mouths to cover their giggles. you’ve given birth to five monsters that all look like you, talk like you, and press his buttons like you. “go bug your mother,” he snorts, but still adjusts himself seemingly enough for his daughters to wriggle into bed at his side. they clamber up and clutch onto him, “kuna?” you mumble, your voice faint and weary. his head turns back ever-so slightly to peek at your face— as if his life isn’t consumed every day by your face now. the only difference is these ones are tiny and chubbier. “just relax, it’s only the brats.” your girls curl up to him, baby hands and chubby feet pushing into his abdomen and gripping onto him.
they aren’t even terrified to drool on him while he should be getting his sleep, something your five daughters lack. your eldest twins erupt in muffled giggles, the middle twins are curled up by his legs, while your youngest daughter is now lying against his broad chest. sukuna feels soft puffs of her breath on his skin, her lips smacking in her sleep. he fights the urge to gripe when you sit up with your back against the headboard. “give her here, kuna.” he hesitates to hand her over. your baby girl blinks sleepily, wide eyes peeking up at sukuna, her beloved father. her eyes gleam, mouth agape with a wide gummy smile, pounding her hands against his chest. “i’ll keep her.” he stares back at his daughter, taking her much smaller hand with merely two fingers. his eyes close, and he rests his immense calloused hand on her diapered bottom.
“got her for tonight. just sleep, take care of my other brat, wife.” his eyes don’t even open to glance over to you, already knowing you’ll fall back right to sleep. your girls sprawl out in your shared bed, drooling on him and holding onto your nightgown. his hand pats the bedding— “she’s not a brat,” you whisper, yawning. he finds your swollen belly, resting his hand over your where your sixth child is growing. “sure she isn’t. my next heiress will be all you. won’t be a lick of me when she arrives.” he’s accepted it, this life full of you, his wife and daughters. as they grow, they resemble every trait of you more and more with each day. even your own personality and habits.
when this one arrives, he won’t trade his wife and his girls for the world. maybe, just maybe— sukuna secretly loves his brats. the greatest gift is to have more of you in his life. even if they drool and never get the hang of inside voices, or are such benign creatures who wail over tiny blemishes, and him not understanding how mommy does it. he would gladly accept even more of your girls, time and time again. he doesn’t desire for a single thing to change. not even wishing for an ounce of his attributes in your girls, solely you. his tiny heiresses will do just fine because they are like his wife, their mother, you. sukuna wishes your family to stay this way, eternally.
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.
the little being that you guys made, stood up on their little legs in their crib, trying to balance themself. lifting their arms and crying even more when their father came to sight.
tch.
sukuna stood at the crib and just stared— as if him standing there would get them to stop. it did not. they just cried more. their little legs shifting in place, arms stretched out, trying to get their father to pick them up.
his hands grasped under their arms, the cries dropping as he lifted them ever so slightly before lowering them so they were laid on their back. "go to sleep."
they apparently didn't like the response he gave them because immediately after his words, they picked up right where they left off with the waterworks. the child getting up again and attempting to pull themselves out of the crib since their father apparently couldn’t do so. they were adament.
sukuna lowered himself to their level, their eyes which they inherited from him, stared back. "you'll wake your mother."
they stopped upon his words.
you always told sukuna that your baby understood what was being said, something he never really thought could be true considering that the little being couldn’t even comprehend the word ‘no.’ there was always something to come after that word left his lips.
they just stared. sukuna took that as his cue. he was barely able to lift himself from his position before he witnessed their eyes beginning to water. he glared.
"go. to. sleep."
the voice that fear clung to whenever it was heard only received a tear stained look from the small figure before him. the child just huffed.
he raised an eyebrow.
not even a year old and they were already giving attitude to his demands. they were definitely yours. and just like they had done earlier, your child lifted their arms up, stretching to their father. he wasn't about to take them back to your guy's room. you were alseep. and he wanted to keep it as so. but he knew if he left, the little one would just start crying again. so, with a huff of his own. he shifted your baby over and got in the crib.
his large frame unable to adjust to the space before baby was falling flat onto his chest. nuzzling themselves into their fathers grasp. sukuna’s arm lifted and slid over their much smaller frame, his large hand cradling their back. the once crying child— now sleeping— in the arms of their father.
I should’ve stayed a curse.
sukuna always said that. always told you that. but there you found him with your child in the crib that was wayyyy to small for his size.
In Which... Your newborn does the impossible... she makes Sukuna cry.
Mayy Says: A part two to one of my well-liked drabbels!
Part one Part two
The only time you’ve seen Sukuna cry is when you gave birth to your daughter.
She’s tiny, bundled up in a pretty blue star blanket that Yuji, her cousin, picked out for her during the baby shower.
Her nose is scrunched up, eyes tightly shut as she wiggles around in Sukuna’s giant, bulky arms. She looks tiny compared to her father, she is tiny.
Your daughter’s arms move beneath her tightly wrapped blanket, half-heartily trying to break free of her soft confinement. She’s already so much like your husband.
Two sets of colored eyes, whether they’re yours or his you’d have to wait to see, strands of bubblegum pink hair sprouting from atop her otherwise bald head, and two pairs of arms trapped against her sides.
Sukuna has a thumb on her head, his fourth arm leaning on the headboard of your hospital bed. The pad of his finger rubbing across the thin pink strands of hair that resemble her dad.
All-in-all, she looks more like his daughter than yours.
“She… looks like me.” He murmurs, eyes half lidded as she squirms in his arms. “Her features are mine.”
You chuckled, body drooping with exhaustion onto the white sheets of the uncomfortable bed beneath you. “Yeah, I wonder why.” Your head nodded to the side.
Sukuna didn’t raise his head to glare your way, but his piercing eyes flickered to your tired face. “Sleep, wife.” He commanded, dropping his arm from atop the headboard to graze along the slope of your nose. “I’ll— we,” he looked at his newborn, “we will be here.”
Your husband’s reassurance lulled you to sleep, head falling heavily against the white pillow of your hospital bed. You could barely hear Sukuna’s coos as you were swept away into slumber.
The first thing you heard when you woke up was the soft humming Sukuna was producing deep in his throat. A scratchy, unusual sound no one else but his family could hear.
The first thing you saw when you woke up was Sukuna gazing at your baby, and the clear tears that were staining his cheeks. Whether he didn’t know he was producing them, or he just didn’t care, they were unwiped.
Sukuna never cried. Ever. So seeing him so soft, out of his comfort zone and holding a life so fragile between his beefy arms, made you realize something.
it's actually no surprise — either awake or asleep, you're always all he can think about. right now, you're somewhere in hawaii, sprawled under the sun, and you've got on that bikini that you bought for your honeymoon that always drives him crazy– wait.
he looks around, confused, "where are the kids?" he asks you, as you take a sip of your drink. you frown. "what kids? we rented this beach for ourselves, remember?"
if he thinks hard enough about it, he can almost remember it. "I... yeah, yeah, you're right. sorry." he lays back down, and for some reason he's so tired he feels like he could sleep through the next hundred years. "I think I'll take a nap."
you frown, extending a hand to put it over his chest, "are you sure, honey? a nap? you've just woken up."
he blinks, putting a hand over yours, "...I did?"
papa.
he jerks up, making you yelp, and looks around — nothing. the beach looks as empty as before. "the fuck was that?"
you look concerned. "what was what, kuna?
papaaa!
he screams, "that! that voice! don't you hear it?"
you get up from your sunbed, putting your hands over his shoulders gently, "honey, you might want to lay down, I think the sun got–"
SLAP!
"papa!" yuuji giggles, "you're awake!"
sukuna blinks at his son, and realises he's on the verge of tears — fuck, he was having such a good sleep... "yuuji... did you just slap me?"
"I did!" the gremlin says, proud, "you wouldn't wake up, daddy. were you dreaming?"
"I was," he says, already missing dreamland, "I was having... a really nice dream." the kind you have when you don't sleep more than two hours a night for weeks. he’s so tired that he doesn’t even have the strength in him to cuss him out for waking him up.
he lets out a little oooh! "I bet you were dreaming about me, daddy."
kinda. more about making you. "...yeah, brat, whatever."
"I bet mommy was there, too!" his eyes dart over to the other side of the bed, where you're sleeping blissfully, and he begins to climb the bed, "I'll wake her up and tell her–"
your husband jumps up, protecting you from the attack of your own spawn, and picks him up to drag him out of the bedroom, "let mama rest, yuu," he says, voice full of sleep and cheek stinging, "she's tired." handling a newborn and a toddler is no joke. "why are you awake? it's, like..." he spares a glance at the clock hung up in the hallway, "four in the morning."
he frowns, looking a lot like a very distressed you, "kenji woke me up."
sukuna’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead — were the two of you so tired you didn't hear your son fussing? "did he, now?"
by the time your husband enters the nursery with yuuji clinging onto his leg, your youngest is red all over his face, fussing like the spoiled brat he is, and promptly lets out a loud fart when sukuna picks him up. the latter stares down at him, unblinking, with the same deadpan he usually reserves for clients who piss him off to the end of the day. "I'd let you live in your own shit, but then again, your mother would have my head for that."
"shit!" yuuji sing-songs, sitting on his foot. his father flicks his forehead. "none of that."
it's actually too early for all of this.
kenji almost succeeds in peeing on him during the diaper change, and once his new nappy is set, he shits in it again. yuuji nearly starts crying when he gets told that he can't have candy for breakfast at four in the morning, but settles to munch on his high-rate sugar cereals on the couch as he watches bluey while sukuna tries desperately to settle kenji.
by the time you wake up, you're met with the sight of your husband and your two children (or rather, gremlins) sprawled all over him on the couch, a box of cereal fallen onto the ground. your husband is snoring — loudly, at that — but your spawns are no lesser feat than him, as they drool and, too, let out little snorts in their sleep.
kneeling down beside his head, you brush his hair out of his face. "kuna."
he whines. "what?"
"I'm taking the kids back to bed."
he does not protest when you take kenji out of his arms first, setting him down on the bassinet of his nursery, nor when you pick up yuuji and tuck him back in his own bed. by the time you come back to the living room, your husband is only half-awake, staring blankly at the wall.
you chuckle quietly, "do you need me to carry you back to bed, too?"
slowly, he shakes his head, opening his arms without a word. you settle down over him without too much grace, but with the way he immediately engulfs you in a hug, you doubt he minds. "I had the best dream of my life tonight," he hums, lips pressed against the crown of your head.
you hum, eyes still crusty with sleep, hands over his broad chest as you press your cheek against his pec. "do tell me."
"we were on vacation," a kiss over your head, "on a private beach," another on your temple, "with no kids." a last one on your cheek.
"don't talk dirty to me so early on in the morning," you moan, side-eyeing him, "we won't be able to have that in, at least, two years — weaning yuuji off was a nightmare, and kenji's still a baby, but I just know he won't be easier to handle."
"a man can dream," sukuna sighs, head dropping back to the pillows behind his back.
you tap his chest, amused, "well, you were the one who begged to come inside multiple times–"
"do not remind me of my mistakes, woman," he lets the argument die down as soon as it started, too tired to even complain. he rubs his cheek against the top of your head, "two years," he sighs, "two years, and I’ll have you all to myself again– in a skimpy bikini, hopefully."
you raise an eyebrow. "I wasn’t aware my presence was valued only when I’m wearing a bikini," you tease him.
he grunts. "normally, it isn’t. when I’m sleep deprived and horny, however…”
