It’s been three hours since it happened, and the fury has yet to subside. If anything, the silence in your shared apartment is making it worse, fanning the flames of your irritation until you feel like a walking, talking inferno. A very pregnant, very uncomfortable inferno.
It started simply enough. You were heading to the kitchen for your fourth glass of water in the last hour – this baby was apparently determined to turn your bladder into its own personal water park. That’s when you caught it: a low chuckle from the living room sofa.
You paused, one hand on your burgeoning belly, the other on the small of your back, trying to alleviate the ever-present ache. “What’s so funny?”
Sukuna’s laughter wasn’t the full-throated, arrogant sound that usually echoed through your home. No, this was a suppressed, wheezing thing, the kind of laugh that happens when you’re trying desperately not to, which only makes it a hundred times worse. He was buried in his phone, but his shoulders were shaking.
“Nothing,” he managed to get out, his voice strained.
You narrowed your eyes. “It doesn’t sound like nothing. What are you laughing at?”
He finally looked up, and that’s when you saw it. The glint of amusement in his crimson eyes, the smirk playing on his lips. He was trying to school his features into something neutral, but he was failing spectacularly.
“It’s just…” He gestured vaguely in your direction. “The way you’re walking.”
The air in the room seemed to crystallize. You could feel your blood pressure skyrocket. “The way I’m walking?” you repeated, your voice dangerously low.
“Yeah,” he said, and the idiot actually chuckled again. “You’re waddling.”
And that was it. The dam of your carefully maintained composure broke.
“Waddling?” you shrieked, and you were vaguely aware that you sounded like a tea kettle reaching its boiling point, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “I am not waddling! I am carrying your child! A human being! Do you know how much this weighs? It feels like I’m smuggling a watermelon, and you’re over there, laughing at me?”
The smirk on his face finally vanished, replaced by a look of dawning horror. He’d been with you long enough to recognize the signs of an impending hormonal meltdown. He slowly put his phone down, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Okay, okay, baby, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice placating. “It was a stupid thing to say. You’re not waddling. You’re… gliding. Like a majestic, pregnant swan.”
“A majestic, pregnant swan?” you repeated, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do I look like a swan to you, Sukuna? Do I?”
He wisely chose not to answer that question. He stood up, crossing the room in a few long strides, and tried to pull you into his arms. You sidestepped him, your arms crossed over your chest (or, as much as you could with your belly in the way).
“Don’t touch me,” you snapped. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
And that was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it? You were furious with him, so angry you could spit nails, but the thought of actually being away from him was unbearable. Your hormones were a tangled mess of contradictions, and you were just along for the ride.
That’s when the idea struck you. It was brilliant in its absurdity, a perfect solution to your current predicament.
“Go get a paper bag,” you commanded.
Sukuna blinked. “A what?”
“A paper bag,” you repeated, pointing a finger at him. “From the pantry. The big ones we use for recycling. Go get one.”
He looked at you as if you’d grown a second head, but he didn’t argue. He knew better than to argue with you in this state. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later, holding a large brown paper bag.
“Okay,” he said, holding it out to you. “Now what?”
“Put it on your head,” you said, your voice deadpan.
He stared at you, the bag dangling from his hand. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
He sighed, a long-suffering sound that you had become very familiar with over the past few months. He unfolded the bag, and with a final, defeated look in your direction, he pulled it over his head.
And so, here you are, three hours later. Sukuna is sitting on the sofa, a paper bag over his head, and you’re on the armchair opposite him, still fuming. The silence is thick with unspoken words, a testament to the ridiculousness of the situation.
You have to admit, it’s a little hard to stay mad at a man with a paper bag on his head. Every so often, you can hear him sigh, a muffled sound from within his paper prison. You’ve made him cut eyeholes in the bag, so you know he’s watching you, but you refuse to meet his gaze.
“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, his voice distorted by the bag.
“Yes,” you say, your voice clipped.
“It was a joke,” he says, his voice softer now. “A stupid one, I’ll admit. But I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“It wasn’t funny,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you hate it. You hate that you’re so emotional, that you can go from rage to tears in the span of a few seconds.
“I know, baby,” he says, and he sounds genuinely remorseful. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
You sniff, trying to hold back the tears. “You’re just lucky I love you,” you mumble.
“I know,” he says again, and you can hear the smile in his voice, even through the bag. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
He stands up and walks over to you, the paper bag rustling with every step. He kneels in front of you, and you can feel his hands on your knees, his touch warm and familiar.
“Can I take this off now?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.
You hesitate for a moment, then nod. He reaches up and pulls the bag off his head, and you’re met with the sight of his handsome face, his eyes soft with affection. He leans in and kisses you, a slow, tender kiss that makes your heart melt.
“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.
“I love you too,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “Even if you are an idiot.”
He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through you. “I know,” he says.
And as he pulls you in for another kiss, you know that he’s right. He’s your idiot, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if he does make you want to strangle him sometimes.
an: y'all my favorite influencer is pregnant and i got this idea when i saw her waddle cause its so cute ughhh
when dadkuna gets the call that his son’s suspended for fighting at school
the call hits at 3:17 pm. the school number on the cracked screen of your phone. you swipe to answer before it can ring twice.
“hello?"
“mrs. ryomen? we need either you or your husband to come down to the office. your son was involved in a physical altercation. he’s suspended for three days pending further review. he’s waiting here now.”
you press two fingers to the bridge of your nose, already feeling the headache bloom. “wha—okay. we’ll be there in twenty.”
sukuna’s in the garage, hunched over the old harley he’s been rebuilding for months. black tank clinging to his back from the heat, grease streaked across his forearms where his tattoos peek out. he doesn’t look up when you step into the open bay.
“hey kuna?” you softly call, “school called.”
he keeps wiping the carburetor with a shop rag. “what now.”
“he got into a fight and they’re suspending him. we have to go pick him up.”
the rag stops mid-motion. his jaw flexes once, visible even from the side. “he start it?”
“they didn’t say over the phone.”
“figures.” he tosses the rag onto the cluttered workbench. his tools scattered, half-empty beer can sweating beside a crumpled pack of cigarettes. “let’s go.”
the drive is quiet except for the sound of the truck and sukuna's knuckles white on the wheel. you know better than to fill the silence with platitudes. he hates that shit.
ren, your son, is slouched in one of the orange plastic chairs bolted to the wall outside the principal’s door. his split lip already swelling, fresh bruise blooming purple under his left eye, knuckles split and crusted. blood’s dried in a thin line down the front of his gray hoodie. he looks up when the door swings open, meets sukuna’s stare straight on. no ounce of apology in his eyes. just the same stubborn set to his mouth you’ve seen a thousand times in the mirror.
he was looking exactly like sukuna at that age in the old photos you've seen.
not only does he look like his dad, he for sure got his temper too.
"you better have a damn good reason." sukuna stops in the doorway, boots planted. “what the fuck happened.”
“some kid wouldn’t shut up about mom,” ren says, “said shit i wasn’t about to let stand, so i handled it.”
ahhh fortunately for him, that's enough of an excuse to sukuna.
you feel sukuna’s temper rise and you just sigh knowing he’ll most likely tolerate this behavior again. you move first, moving pass them into the principal’s office ready to get this over with so you can have a talk with your son properly.
the principal’s a nervous-looking guy in a polyester suit two sizes too big. he looks ridiculous, you and sukuna once had a good laugh talking about him. he stands when you enter. sukuna follows, shoulders filling the narrow doorway. he doesn’t sit. just crosses his arms and leans against the wall, tattoos catching the harsh overhead light.
he clears his throat twice. “mr. and mrs. ryomen thank you for coming so quickly.”
sukuna stays silent as the principal fidgets with a pen.
“your son initiated the physical contact,” he starts. “the other student sustained a mild concussion. we’re recommending–”
“he said something about my wife,” sukuna interrupts. "that true or what?"
the principal lets out a nervous chuckle. “be that as it may, we maintain a zero-tolerance policy toward violence–”
sukuna’s voice cuts in again, “say that part again. what exactly did the other kid say about her?”
the room goes still, you don’t know whether to feel embarrassed or proud that both your husband and son are standing up for you like this. ren shifts his weight, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum.
“called her a gold digger,” ren says. “said she only married you for the cash and that you’re just some ex-con tattoo artist who knocked her up... that pissed me off."
sukuna’s gaze flicks to you for half a heartbeat. you shake your head the smallest amount—no. he exhales loudly, the frustration in him growing more.
“so my kid put his hands on a loudmouth who was talking shit about his mother,” sukuna says. “and you’re punishing him for it.”
“school policy is clear—”
“your policy’s obviously shit.” sukuna pushes off the wall. “you let these kids talk whatever trash they want all day, but the minute someone actually responds, you clutch your pearls?”
“mr. ryomen, i’m going to have to ask you to—”
you can't stand this.
“me and my husband understand the suspension. we’ll take him home. do we need to sign anything?”
the principal hesitates, then slides the forms across the desk. you sign quick while sukuna keeps staring at the motivational poster on the wall like he’s imagining putting a fist through it.
the parking lot’s baking under the late-afternoon sun, shadows stretch long and jagged from the chain-link fence and the row of staff cars, a couple seagulls wheel overhead, crying once before banking toward the football field. the truck chirps twice when sukuna thumbs the fob, the doors unlock with that familiar pop.
sukuna's ready to hear whatever lecture you have to give this time.
“backseat, ren,” you say flatly.
he doesn’t argue. he ducks his head and slides into the back without a sound. the leather creaks under your guys weight as sukuna fires the engine.
“you don’t get to decide what’s worth fighting over at school,” you start. “i don’t care what he said about me. you don’t put your hands on someone because words hurt your feelings. that’s not how this works.”
ren stares down at the rubber floor mat.
“you’re grounded. two weeks. no phone, no going out, no friends over. you come straight home after school when the suspension’s up. you do your work, you help around the house, and you think about why throwing punches isn’t a solution. clear?”
ren nods once, slow. “yeah.”
“say it.”
he lifts his eyes just enough to meet yours in the rearview. “it’s clear. i’m grounded two weeks. no phone, no nothing.”
you hold his gaze another second, then turn back forward. “good.”
the rest of the drive unspools in thick silence. traffic thins as you leave the school zone, the sun dipping low enough that the dashboard glows faintly orange. you keep your eyes on the road, fingers laced loosely in your lap, while sukuna’s grip on the wheel stays steady but no longer bone-white.
when the truck finally rolls into the driveway, sukuna kills the engine with a twist of the key. the sudden quiet is awkward.
you unbuckle first, turning halfway in your seat. “i’m starting dinner. kuna,” you pause facing your husband, “talk to him.”
sukuna exhales through his nose when you enter the house. he reaches over and twists the key back just enough to kill the accessory power, plunging the cabin into near-darkness except for the faint streetlight spilling through the windshield.
ren’s voice comes out low, a little nervous now that it's just his dad with him, “you mad at me?”
sukuna laughs in response. “mad?” he echoes. “nah, not mad. you did what you had to do.”
"wait really??"
“kid talked shit about your mom,” sukuna continues, “you handled it. part of me gets that—hell, most of me does. but your mother just laid it out plain, she's right, you don’t swing first at school. not because defending family is wrong. because getting caught makes it useless. next time you decide something’s worth handling, make sure no one sees. or better yet, walk away and deal with it where cameras don’t reach and mouths don’t run to teachers.”
ren nods slowly, throat working like he’s swallowing everything he wants to say. “she’s pissed.”
“she’s pissed because she doesn’t want you turning into me at sixteen.” sukuna finally flicks his eyes to the rearview mirror, meeting ren’s gaze head-on. “look just take the grounding, do the time, don’t argue with her. she’ll cool off faster that way.”
ren rubs his jaw, careful around the swelling bruise. “yeah… okay. i get it, thanks dad.”
sukuna pops his door open, the dome light flooding the cab with weak yellow. “come on. go help her with whatever she’s doing in there and ice that face before it swells completely shut.”
ren climbs out first, shoulders hunched a little like the weight of the day is still sitting on them. sukuna follows a second later, pocketing the keys as he exhales once more.
later that night when the house quiets down, ren’s already shut himself in his room, lights off early for once.
you and sukuna are both in bed too.
sukuna’s sprawled face-down on the mattress, shirt gone, the wide map of his back exposed.
he groans low when you climb onto the bed behind him, knees bracketing his hips. your hands settle between his shoulder blades first, thumbs digging slow circles into the knots that live there permanently.
“fuck—right there,” he mutters into the pillow.
massaging him is one of the routines you guys do before sleeping, sukuna claims it completes his day no matter how shitty it went.
you keep the pressure steady, working down the length of his spine. the room smells faintly of his soap and the arnica gel you rubbed into ren’s face earlier.
after a minute you lean forward, hair brushing his shoulder.
“sooo you two talk in the truck?”
“yeah.”
your palms slide up to his traps, kneading deeper. “and???”
“told him he did good putting the kid in his place.” sukuna shifts his head to the side so he can talk properly. “but that he can’t be dumb about it next time. school cameras, witnesses, snitches—whole system’s built to catch the guy who actually swings. told him if he’s gonna handle shit, handle it clean. or don’t handle it at all.”
you pause for half a second, glaring at him. “so you basically told him it’s fine to fight… just don’t get caught.”
he snorts. “i told him reality ain’t the same as the lecture you gave. sweetheart, you want him safe and i want him smart. both can be true.”
your hands start moving again, tracing the ridges of muscle along his ribs. “you’re enabling him.”
“i’m not telling him to start fights.” sukuna turns his head the other way, cheek pressed flat to the pillow so he can see you out of the corner of his eye. “i’m telling him the world doesn’t run on zero-tolerance posters. kid talks about you like that again? someone’s gonna feel it. might as well be someone who knows how to throw properly. i just don’t want him suspended every other week or expelled before he graduates.”
you press your thumbs into the base of his skull, he hisses softly, sounding pleased.
“he looks so much like you in those old pictures now,” you say quieter.
“he’s got your eyes though. softer when he’s not pissed. he’ll figure it out.”
you lean down, lips touching the warm skin behind his ear. “you really not mad at him?”
“nah.” his voice drops lower. “‘m feeling proud. some punk runs his mouth about my wife and my kid lays him out without blinking? that’s blood. that’s mine.” he exhales again. “but i hate seeing his face fucked up. hate even more that he’s gonna carry my reputation around like a target. they already look at him sideways because of me.”
your hands slide down his arms now, working the tension out of his forearms, the same ones that were covered in grease earlier. “he’s not you at sixteen. he’s got us. both of us.”
sukuna turns over suddenly. quick enough that you have to brace on his chest to keep balance. he catches your wrists and tugs you down until you’re half sprawled across him. his eyes flick over your face, looking tired.
“c’mere,” he mutters, already reaching. "didn't i just get lucky?"
his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers curling into your hair just enough to guide you down. he pulls you in like it’s the most natural thing after a day like this.
the kiss lands soft, lips pressing slow against yours. you taste the faint mint from the gum he was chewing earlier, mixed with whatever’s left of the day on his breath. his other arm loops around your lower back, palm flat and heavy, dragging you closer until there’s no space left.
your chest against his, heartbeat thumping steady under your hand.
he angles his head to deepen the kiss. tongue brushes yours lazily like he’s savoring it, you feel his fingers tighten slightly in your hair before loosening again.
you pull back after a minute, just enough to breathe. noses still touching, foreheads pressed.
he doesn’t open his eyes right away. just stays close, breathing you in.
“better?” you whisper.
“mm yeah.”
his thumb strokes along your jaw then he leans up and kisses you again. it's shorter this time like he’s saying shut up and stay here. lips linger a second longer before he drops his head back to the pillow with a tired exhale.
arms stay wrapped around you, one hand settling low on your back, the other still loosely in your hair.
“stop thinking about it, kay? he’ll be alright,” he says eventually. “yer a great mom and 'm trying not to screw up too. he got time to fuck up and figure it out. more than i ever did.”
A/N: genuinely. what is this. art by _avecot on x. also vote
You were sitting on the couch, scrolling on your phone while petting the dog curled up on your lap. Sukuna was sitting beside you, your little daughter in his arms, gently bouncing her and making soft noises just to see her smile.
She was completely focused on him, her tiny hands gripping his shirt.
“Da….da” she babbled.
Sukuna froze for half a second, then looked at you like he’d just won the lottery.
"Did you hear that?”
You smiled. “She’s been saying that all day.”
He clicked his tongue, pretending not to care, but hugged her a little closer anyway. “Yeah yeah Daddy’s right here princess.”
Just then, Yuji appeared in the living room with his homework. "mommm can you help me?” he asked.
“Ask your father” you said casually.
Sukuna’s head shot up. “Hey! Why do I need to help him?!” he protested, glaring at you.
You gave him a side-eye glare. He gulped, his gaze flicking nervously to your eyes, then everywhere else. “…Fine” he muttered “I’ll help you.” And just like that, he was explaining math problems to your son.
Later that afternoon, you were watering the plants when your neighbor, Mamaguro- Megumi’s mom called out. “Hey, want to come to the park with us?”
“Sounds fun” you said.
The moment you mentioned Sukuna joining, he yelled from behind you. “Why do I have to go?!”
You turned to give him the side-eye glare again.
Behind Mamaguro, Toji stifled a laugh, which immediately earned him a glare from Sukuna.
Eventually, everyone went together and had a wonderful time. Yuji ran around cheerfully, dragging along a grumpy Megumi and an equally cheerful Tsumiki. Sukuna stayed close, holding your baby, while Toji muttered “We got lucky.”
Leaning beside Sukuna, he teased, “Didn’t know you were the obedient husband type.”
Sukuna growled lowly. “Shut up.”
You glanced over at him. “Sukuna?”
“Yes dear” he replied, his tone softening.
Toji nearly lost it, trying not to laugh. Sukuna noticed immediately and scowled. “Don’t laugh.”
But when you smiled at him, all the irritation and grumpiness melted from his face in an instant, leaving only a soft expression that made your heart skip.
summary: getting knocked up by your older brother’s fratbro wasn't exactly apart of your five year plan. least of all with notorious fuck boy ryomen sukuna.
pairing: frat!kuna x reader
content: everything in this series is considered 18+ so not minor friendly! contains mature content such as rough sex, breeding, spanking, spit play, light hitting, lactation kink, descriptive child birth, postpartum depression, probably more
wc: 7.5k
dividers by: @petalpxl | series masterlist | art by lorinmower | part two
It’s been two weeks, fourteen days, and three hundred and thirty-six hours since Sukuna found out he was going to be a father. Not that he was counting of course. He was hardly the type to overthink much of anything he did, but he’d been spending the last two weeks swelling his brain over the clusterfuck that was his life.
He was going to be a dad and it still didn’t feel real. A kid, his kid.
He thought perhaps he’d follow in Jin’s path and it made him fucking sick. His twin brother had a child when they were only eighteen and decided to forgo college and help their father run the family business. He’d barely graduated high school and Sukuna swore he’d never make that same mistake.
He was absolutely a fuckboy who slept with half the school but his education always came first and he had no plans to have a child before completing it, or have any at all. His nephew, Yuji, was more than he could handle and that wasn’t even his child.
“Oi! Pay attention!” His coach’s voice barely registers until he’s feeling the sting of a soccer ball hitting his shoulder. He’s instantly on one hundred.
“Are you fucking stupid?!” Sukuna catches it before it hits the ground, ignoring the apologies of the freshman dumb enough to hit him, chucking it with incredible force past his head. He ignored the warning shouts from his coach and stormed off the field, his mind racing more than usual as he sped off in his car and heads toward your dorm building.
A kid. Half him, half you and thinking of it almost makes him laugh. Sukuna wasn’t cut out for fatherhood, and he sure as fuck wasn’t meant to be anyone’s boyfriend, let alone husband. So it confuses him that whenever the idea of disappearing pops up, something ugly twists in his chest. Something nagging at him that maybe marrying you was the right decision but he always shut the thought down before it could truly take form.
A couple of weeks ago, his biggest concern was making sure he got good grades and noticed by scouts and now he was reading articles about how a baby was the size of an avocado at sixteen weeks. What the fuck was his life?
Everything about this still felt unreal, even if he acted nonchalant whenever he was around you, which was more often than not lately. This reality seemed fit for an actual adult, not a twenty-something year old whose current address was a frat house full of idiots whose thoughts consisted only of partying, booze and fucking.
Not too long ago this wouldn’t have bothered him but whenever he returns home after being with you, he only notices problems. The beer bottles, loud music, strangers littering his home. There was no way in hell his kid could live here. So he found himself researching apartments and how to babyproof a home in six months, because he sure as hell wasn’t letting his child live in a frathouse or anywhere near it.
He wonders if a one bedroom would be enough, a baby doesn’t need that much space right? But babies turn into toddlers and toddlers turn into children who need their own space, but maybe he should get a three bedroom because you weren’t his girl and probably wouldn’t want to share a room with him.
Sukuna didn’t care, of course. Unlimited access to you? He was sure he could live with that, even if you’d never be anything more than co-parents. He didn’t have much time to think about that because as soon as he parked in the visitors parking lot of your dorm, you texted him.
brat’s mom: Hey, I think we should tell Nanami.
Fuck.
Nanami’s face is red as he processes what you just told him, eyes distant as he stares at nothing. He went from shock that you and Sukuna had been together in the first place, to clenching his jaw so tight you thought he might break his teeth from the force. You could cut the tension with a knife and you felt like your heart was about to jump out of your throat. Nanami was an easy to annoy person but very rarely did that ever apply to you. To be on the receiving end of his ire was a new experience and it made your skin crawl with anxiety.
You could remember the times he’d beat up the boys that broke your heart, specifically the ex that dated you as a prank. When you ran home crying, Nanami and his friends went to go find the boy and based on what you heard the cops tell your parents, Nanami had gripped your ex by his hair and punched him harder that he knocked a tooth out.
If anyone knew how protective Nanami could get over the people he loves it was you, but this was different. Sukuna was his friend and perhaps that's why he hasn't jumped over the table yet. You have hope it’ll be okay until-
“I can’t believe you fucked Sukuna after i specifically warned you about him! And to get pregnant? I love you but are you stupid?”
“Kento-” Your face heats up.
“And what the hell is he doing here?”
It was safe to say Nanami wasn’t happy to hear the news and the smug grin Sukuna was wearing wasn’t fucking helping. You shot him a lethal glare and that was all it took for him to sit up straight in the booth of the cafe you insisted on meeting your brother at.
It’s been a week since you decided to keep the baby and two since you found out you were pregnant. You spent those seven days thinking over if motherhood was truly for you, if you could afford a child and where you would even live. You didn’t think Yuki would appreciate a screaming newborn disturbing her rest or if your school even allowed babies on campus.
Sukuna had an answer to all of this of course.
“Money isn’t an issue. I can promise you, you'll both be well taken care of.”
“I’ll buy you an apartment. Did you think I’d let you sleep in a dorm with the brat?”
Then when he offered to introduce you to his family, stating he has a young nephew and a twin brother you’d like, you remembered you had your own brother to tell. You were so panicked over it, knowing how Nanami could get. You begged Sukuna to come, who all but insisted it wasn’t his place to interfere with sibling issues, especially because said sibling was his brother in pledge and teammate. You thought it might be a good idea to have backup but you were seriously regretting that as the two friends glared at one another.
Sukuna looks annoyed and your brother looks like he’s calculating how many years he’d get for murdering his frat bro.
“Morning to you too.” Sukuna lifts the shades on head, pushing them up and pulling his pink hair back in the process. He looked insanely hot in his Jujutsu University sweater and faded blue jeans, his lip piercing reminding you of how he ate your pussy right before coming here, but you couldn’t think about that right now.
Nanami ignores him, keeping his eyes on you and you can feel his disappointment burning a hole in your forehead. “Him? You can’t be serious. Out of every man on campus you chose my friend and hid it from me for months!”
You rub at your temples, your breakfast threatening to come up and ruin the new dress you’d just gotten, one big enough to hide the bump that decided to expand over the last two weeks. He was starting to piss you off, treating you as if you were still a little girl and couldn’t make your own decisions. It was beyond humiliating and your face was burning.
“I told you I didn’t fucking hide it! I just found out two weeks ago myself. And I didn’t exactly plan it, Kento. I wasn’t thinking-”
He scuffs at that. “Clearly.”
Sukuna snorts into his cup and Nanami’s eyes snap at him, glaring bullets at the much larger man as if his look alone could kill him.
“Do you find this amusing Itadori?”
Sukuna almost breaks his cup with the force he uses to sit it down, coffee pouring over and onto the table. He didn’t care, didn’t notice because he was too busy stopping himself from strangling the man on the other side of the booth.
“If you ever call me that again i’ll fucking set ya on fire, understand?”
The sudden flip leaves your head spinning with confusion. You had no idea why the name sent him spiraling but the way Nanami scrunches his eyebrows before nodding his head in understanding, tells you it was something your brother knew greatly offended Sukuna and he’d clearly crossed a line.
“Fine.” Nanami sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Just tell me two things. First, what are your intentions with my sister?”
“I intend to be around.” Sukuna answers without a beat, as if he had been expecting this question.
Nanami’s glaring again because that wasn't good enough. “Surely you have plans to make an honest woman of her?”
You didn’t mean to but you let a laugh slip before biting your lip and frowning at your brother. “What is this, the 1800’s? I appreciate the support Ken but what makes you think I even want to get married?”
Nanami’s cheeks redden in embarrassment and anger, and Sukuna is looking at you like you hung the stars with a smirk on his face, which you absolutely ignore because you refuse to acknowledge the weird soon to be “co-parents with benefits” relationship you have going on.
“Sorry, I'm sorry! I didn’t mean it like that.” He smiles and rubs at his eyes, letting his glasses push up his face before he focuses on you again, sighing heavily. “Just wanna make sure you and the baby will be alright. Where do you plan on living? I don’t think the school-”
“What is it with you two and thinking i’d let her live in a fucking dorm with my child? I’m starting to get offended.”
After a private conversation with Nanami and him assuring you that he loves you and only wants the best for you, you have Sukuna drop you off at Shoko and Utahime’s place. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.
Time is starting to fly by now. You’re in your twentieth week of pregnancy and it’s been six weeks since you found out you were pregnant. You and Sukuna are both deep in your studies but he always makes sure he finds time to stop by and see you. Everyone questions why Sukuna is seen around campus with the same girl, or why he basically stopped attending parties and on the rare occasion when he does, he limits himself to two drinks max and is seemingly more irritable than usual.
He can usually be found sitting on the couch, smoking weed and shooting the shit with Toji, who is surprisingly the only person in the frat outside of Nanami that knows he has a kid on the way. He had one of his own at the end of freshman year and had been understanding when Sukuna went to him for advice, never teasing like he knew Gojo or Suguru would.
“S’not all that bad. Megs is a little shit, I swear that fucker purposefully provokes me sometimes but I’d do anything for him ya know?”
Sukuna didn’t know, that was the whole fucking point of this conversation. The closest he’s gotten to fatherhood is when he babysat Yuji for Jin and that ended with him being banned from such duties. Jin had asked if his son was asleep yet and when Sukuna sent a mirror picture of him holding the baby by his onesie, his twin lost his shit. Sukuna couldn’t understand the problem since the brat was laughing and clearly enjoying their uncle/nephew bonding time.
How was he supposed to know the shirt could potentially rip? He asked his brother this and Jin squinted even with his glasses on, ears and cheeks red with fury as he threw his arms out, “That’s what I’m telling you, Ryo! You don’t know, so don’t do it! You’d make a shit father.”
“I’ll tell you the secret.”
Sukuna waits as Toji takes a hit, inhaling deeply before blowing a ring of smoke and letting his head fall back on the couch, passing the blunt to Sukuna and the pink haired giant waits.
“There isn’t one.”
Toji laughs and Sukuna scoffs, mumbling “You’re useless.” before taking a hit himself and smothering it in the tray on the table. The medicinal had failed at clearing his head and served only to piss him off even more at this point.
“When Megumi’s mom told me she was pregnant I almost threw up. I was an idiot at nineteen.”
Sukuna grunts and leans back into the couch, laying his head on the cushion behind him and staring at the ceiling. “You still are.”
Toji’s laughing and keeps talking but Sukuna's mind is half there as his thoughts drift to you. The last time he saw you was two days ago and the sight of your almost five month belly had him nauseous with anxiety, reality truly kicking in that his entire life was going to change.
You were sitting at your desk getting an assignment done and when he looked down, your shirt had risen up and staring back at him was his future. One he hadn’t planned and it left him so terrified he did the only thing he could think of. He left without explaining why, ignoring your questions as he shrugged his shirt back over his head and bolted out the door, ignoring your texts. It was just a simple “Hey, you alright? You looked spooked.” and a “Did I do something wrong?”
That was two days ago and he hasn’t reached out to you yet, and thankfully you didn't call or text him either. Sukuna hadn’t realized he was a coward until that day and it was gnawing at his soul, biting away at his sanity until he broke and opened up to Toji.
“I’m not the best dad, coulda told you that myself. But all I'm saying is that no one is ever ready, shit just happens and you figure it out. Got no choice but to, but I can tell you already care.”
“What?”
Sukuna looks at his friend, eyes growing heavy as his heart skips a beat. His face remained nonchalant but he was fucking terrified and hated that someone noticed.
“You keep worrying about fucking up. Bad fathers don’t sit around worrying if they’re doing a good job or not, trust me I know. Not something I’m proud of.”
Sukuna hums in acknowledgment. He vividly remembered how Toji avoided his son the first month after he was born, partying night and day, skipping most of his classes and almost getting kicked off the football team. He never cared at the time, didn’t think it was his business.
“You ever stop worrying?” Toji frowns and Sukuna adds “About the kid dumbass.”
Sukuna would never admit to this to anyone, not even you but he worried about your safety constantly. Were you eating enough? He’d answer that by getting every craving you had and sending you money for groceries, even though you told him you didn’t need it.
Were you in pain? He rubbed your feet once, glaring at you and swearing you to secrecy as you giggled and he fought back a smile. Claimed that it was his responsibility to fix any issues his child was causing you.
Was the baby growing correctly? When he asked you that a week ago, you invited him to your anatomy scan which was tomorrow. He had yet to see the baby beyond the ultrasound you showed him and the thing was tiny, it did nothing but freak him out. What if something happened? A baby that small couldn't be saved. His nerves only calmed when he agreed to go to the appointment with you.
“Nah. When you care about something that much, you’ll never stop worrying but you get used to it.”
Before Sukuna could respond, a bright flash of white hair appeared and shouted “WHERE’S MY FAVORITE SINGLE DAD?”
Both of the men groan and Sukuna closes his eyes and throws his arm over his head, lacking the special kind of patience needed to deal with Satoru fucking Gojo. Toji mumbles “Shit.”
When he peeks, a very drunk Gojo is standing in front of them with his black shades still on, beer bottle in his hand and red lipstick covering his neck. The man laughs at their sour faces before plopping himself on the couch between them.
The music is too fucking loud, Gojo reeks of alcohol and Sukuna feels a migraine coming on.
“Fuck off.” Sukuna grumbles, pushing the arm Gojo was attempting to put around him and ignoring the fake pout he gave. He’s surprised he’s survived almost four years in the same house as the man, he was a walking headache.
“No way! What are you two talking about?” He frowns at Sukuna before attempting to hug Toji and getting the same treatment.
“None of your business, freak. You’re ruining my fucking high.” Toji huffs. He had even less patience for the frat president than Sukuna did, as they didn’t have the best track record.
Gojo says nothing but looks between both men, his eyes narrowed as he puts on his “thinking too hard about shit that doesn’t concern him” face, gears turning in his pissy drunk head and Sukuna rubs his hand down his face. Fuck, he really wanted to kill his friend sometimes.
Gojo takes another painfully awkward minute to stare between the two and right when Toji’s about to strangle him, his white eyebrows shoot up and his eyes widen. The grin slowly spreads across his face and Sukuna knows he’s fucked. The man was incredibly observant and crazy smart when he wanted to be.
“..No way. You- you got some PREGNANT didn’t you? That’s why you’ve been skipping our parties, acting all high and mighty and refusing to drink anything stronger than those nasty beers I know you hate.”
Sukuna sighs, his face growing hot with anger as he smacks the back of Gojo's head, ignoring his very loud “OW!” and gripping the man's collar and pulling him close. “Keep your fucking mouth shut or i’ll kill you.. Slowly.”
It’s not that Sukuna cared if people found out. He never fed into what others thought of him but he knew you did and he would be damned if Gojo ruined the little peace you were getting throughout this pregnancy because his idiot friend was too stupid to keep his voice low.
“Fine! Fine!” Satisfied Sukuna lets him go, shooting a glare at the few people who were looking before sitting back. Unfortunately for him, Gojo wasn’t done.
“Who is it? Do I know her? Wait-”
Toji’s already gotten up and left Sukuna to deal with the frat president's antics on his own. Fucking traitor.
“It’s Nanami’s sister isn’t it? That’s why he barely talks to you anymore and looks at you like he hates you now. Oh my god, I’m a genius! Can I be godfather?”
Sukuna contemplates homicide but pulls out his phone, feeling a lot more confident after his conversation with Toji of all people.
sukuna: be there to get you at noon right?
brat’s mother: yep
Despite his state last night, Sukuna shows up at your dorm on time. He’s only a little offended that you don’t say a word to him but his heart still skips a beat at the sight of you. Your belly had grown a lot since you told him you were carrying his child and he hated the growing possessiveness he felt toward you.
He told himself it was because you were quite literally growing half of him, that it had nothing to do with the way his chest swelled with need whenever he laid eyes on you. It was just a natural, human reaction to be attracted to the person you created life with, even if you hadn’t let him touch you since the meeting with Nanami.
“Ryomen.” You walked past him without looking, and he didn’t know why your attitude bothered him even though he deserved it. He had dealt with plenty of angry women in his almost four years of college and he never truly cared what they thought. They knew what they were getting into when they decided to let him fuck them and he knew he’d never speak to them again so he never thought twice about it. Even when it ended with him getting a drink thrown in his face.
But your anger was different. You didn’t scream, didn’t throw drinks in his face or make yourself look stupid to get his attention and he loved and hated it. He wanted you to need him, to want him so badly that you threw yourself in front of him and begged for him to acknowledge you. Even if he knew it was selfish because ultimately, he could never be anything more than a father to your child and a quick fuck if you needed it.
Ryomen Sukuna didn’t do relationships.
So he stayed quiet. He opened the door for you, helped you in the car and even waited until your seatbelt clicked in place before he closed the door, but he never made any attempt to converse. When he started blasting “Day Scanner” by Susumu and you made a face, he swallowed his annoyance and turned it off, riding the rest of the way to the doctors in silence.
He didn’t even flinch when you were laid back on the chair, shirt pulled up to reveal your belly and grabbed his hand when the doctor applied the gel and started moving the wand around. He simply squeezed your hand because the truth was that he was just as nervous as you looked. The last he’d felt true nervousness was when he was a teen and his abusive father was still alive.
“Are you two looking to find out the gender today or are we keeping it a surprise?”
Sukuna didn’t say anything, instead allowing you to make that decision. He didn’t care either way, he’d only come to make sure the baby was okay. He hadn’t given himself the time to think about if he wanted a girl or a boy but at that moment, he thought he might prefer a boy. Given his track record with women, he worried his karma would come in the form of a little girl he’d have to protect from the sea of scumbags he knew would prey on her.
“We want to know.”
And when she started pointing out all of the little toes, hands, seeing and hearing the fast thumping of a heartbeat, Sukuna felt his eyes burning.
“Looks like baby is asleep right now but let’s see if we can get a view of the genitals. Sometimes they let us take a peek, sometimes they’re feeling shy.”
While you laughed at the words, Sukuna felt his skin crawl and his anger rise. He didn’t find the comment funny and would have told the woman that, if he thought it wouldn’t upset you. So he kept his mouth shut, his hand in yours and his eyes on the screen before he dug himself in a deeper hole with you.
“Alrighty! Positions can make it tricky but baby is cooperating well today and based on what I’m seeing it looks like you’re having a little... girl!”
Sukuna almost throws up.
The next day Sukuna’s waiting outside your building, having just finished his morning practice and you’re filled with nerves about today. You agreed to meet his family and though he assured you it’ll just be him, his brother, and his nephew, you can’t help but feel concerned about making a good impression. This would be half of your daughter's family, you wanted to get along with them.
You’d never met any of your previous boyfriend's families, and Sukuna was just.. your friend? Co-parent? You didn’t know what you were anymore and it frustrated you. Either way, it was important to build a bond with the people your daughter would spend half of her time with. You were doing this for her, it didn’t matter what they thought. If they were anything like Sukuna, you would bear any criticism they threw your way, and you’d do it with a smile if it meant creating a stable family for your daughter.
Before you let your fear control you and back out of going, you slip into a pair of jeans and a plain white shirt that perfectly shows off your growing bump. You weren’t as big as you knew you’d get but you were showing enough that it would be obvious to anyone unless you wore one of Sukuna’s hoodies. You weren’t exactly ready to reveal you’d gotten pregnant from a one night stand, knowing how badly people gossiped. And if they knew it was Sukuna’s?
You shiver but stay silent the entire one hour ride.
When Sukuna pulls into a well known wealthy neighborhood, your brows furrow. Only the richest of the rich could afford to live here and the houses were grossly huge. You didn’t say anything until he pulled into a driveway that led to one of the biggest houses you'd ever seen. It had the traditional architecture of a Japanese home but the size made your stomach twist.
Who the fuck was this guy? You kept quiet of course, not wanting to come off as tacky but you would confront him on the way back. He was the father of your child after all and you were entitled to answers.
“Did you tell him yet?” You turn and ask as he parks behind a black suv, long fingers tapping against the wheel as he sighs and turns the car off.
“I am now. That’s why we're here.”
He was suddenly annoyed but you didn't care to ask why, too nervous at the sight of the front door and a near identical clone of Sukuna standing in the entry way. Before you could really stare, Sukuna was out the door and walking to your side to help you out of the car.
You wanted to back out, run away to the safety of your dorm room and listen to Yuki’s never ending rants about her boyfriend or how she got dibs on being godmother of your baby. Only Sukuna’s hand on your lower back stopped you from doing that, and butterflies were flying in your chest at the feeling of his thumb rubbing up and down your skin, though he stopped when you looked at him with glossy eyes.
“UNC KUNA!” You barely have time to register the pink blur before a little boy the height of your waist is speeding toward Sukuna and crashing into his legs at full speed.
Sukuna doesn’t move an inch but huffs and reaches a hand down to ruffle the kids hair, which you noticed was littered with black as well, different from the twins full blown pink. His eyes were closed, chubby cheeks pressed to his uncle's legs, little arms wrapped tight around him as he squeezed hard enough to make little pink spots spread across his face.
“What are you doing brat?” Sukuna asks with a flatness to his voice and when you glare at him, he only smirks in return. The little boy doesn’t seem fazed by his uncle’s attitude, likely used to it and it shouldn’t surprise you that Sukuna was an asshole to his own nephew.
“I missed you!”
Yuji beams up at him, smiling wide and showing that he was missing his two front teeth and you basically melted while Sukuna only made a ‘tch’ sound before giving in and lifting the little boy to sit on his shoulders. Yuji’s giggling like it’s the best day of his life, hand on top of Sukuna’s head to hold on and you can’t help but wonder if your daughter will share any features with the little boy who was the spitting image of Sukuna and his twin.
Sukuna carries the boy to the front door while keeping his hand on your back and guiding you forward. You fought the urge to fiddle with your sleeve when you made it to the front door, coming face to face with Sukuna’s brother who was..
Cute? I mean you could tell he was his brother's twin with the same height, pink hair and face but he had a softer look, kinder eyes and lacked facial tattoos but instead had glasses that sat snug on his nose. He was scrawnier than Sukuna and looked like the type of man you’d typically go for until you met his deviant clone.
His eyes are flickering from you to Sukuna until they land on your bump and you fight the instinct to wrap your arms around yourself. A knowing smile spreads across his face and Sukuna scowls at him as he goes to set Yuji down, who immediately looks at you, eyes wide with curiosity.
“Oh.”
“Don’t.” Sukuna grumbles and lowers his hand from your back but keeps you close at his side. You stay quiet, letting the man next to you take over introductions because you felt like you might throw up if you spoke.
“I didn’t say anything.” Jin was fighting back his smile, arms crossed in front of him as he stared at his brother.
“You were fucking going to.”
“Only that your friend is very beautiful and that you’re an asshole for not properly introducing us.” The man turns back to you and sticks his hand out. “I’m Jin, the younger twin by only two minutes.”
You give a shaky laugh, shoulders loosening a little at the way Jin is able to rile Sukuna up with a simple “oh.” You’d never seen him this bothered over the two letters, his cheeks dusted pink as he mumbled back “fuck off”.
After you introduce yourself, you feel a tugging at your legs and look down to see Yuji staring up at you with wide doe eyes, a playful smile on his face as he keeps tugging, clearly waiting for you to acknowledge him.
“Um, hello.” You give your best smile, unsure of how to interact with children as you didn’t have any nieces or nephews, nor cousins. It’s always been just you and Nanami and a part of you envied Sukuna and how well he was with Yuji. You’d make a terrible mom.
“You’re pwetty. Can you pick me up?” He gets straight to the point and it has you chuckling and bending to scoop him up until a strong hand wraps around your wrist.
You look at Sukuna and frown at him, looking back at your wrist and he pulls away but stops you again when you attempt to pick the boy up.
“Don’t fucking pick him up (name).”
Yuji frowns and stomps his foot, death grip on your sleeves and you’re unsure of what to do, why Sukuna was being such a fucking asshole. He ignored the way Yuji’s eyes welled up when he pried his hands off your shirt and your chest tightened.
“Why can’t I pick him up?”
“Yeah! Why not unc Kuna?” Yuji is immediately backing you up, crossing his little arms and giving his uncle the dirtiest glare a four year old could muster up. Jin stayed quiet but an amused smile was on his face.
“She’s not carrying anything.” Sukuna glares back unfazed, not giving a shit if Yuji was a child or his nephew.
“Why?” You fire back, wondering why Sukuna brought you along if he didn’t even want you interacting with his family. You didn’t know what his fucking problem was but it was making you feel less than, like you weren’t good enough-
“Because you’re fucking pregnant.” Sukuna shoots back, looking at you like you’d lost your common sense. Like you were the one being unreasonable.
“Ahh I see.” Jin laughed at the same time as Yuji said “What’s peg-aa-nit?”
“I’m perfectly capable of picking him up.” You cross your arms at your chest and give Sukuna a “don’t fucking test me dude” look but he's not budging, rivaling your glare with one of his own.
“No.”
“He’s a preschooler.”
“No.”
“I’ve carried groceries heavier than him.”
“No.”
Every answer is the same and when you stare at him, he stares right back. Later that day you're lounging on the ridiculously large couch and listening to Jin recall stories of their childhood, still a little annoyed that Sukuna won that battle and you never did get to pick up Yuji who’s now sounds asleep on his uncle’s lap, sprawled out and snoring lightly as Sukuna unknowingly rocks his legs side to side.
Your heart is thumping hard, the sight firing up thoughts of a tiny newborn laying there, a little girl with hair like his and your facial features. Sukuna occasionally catches you looking and grins but never says anything.
You’re half listening to the conversation. Jin’s giving Sukuna brotherly advice and you’re thinking about how good he’d look holding a tiny version himself, massive arms swallowing his daughter whole as he looks down at her with soft eyes he’d reserved just for her.
It had you aching with need, which is why later that night when he walked you to your dorm, you pulled him inside after noticing Yuki was gone, and let him rip your clothes off you until you were both naked. His cock was buried deep inside of you as you sat on his lap, his hands firm on your waist, helping guide your movements as you rode him like the cock drunk slut you were.
“Fuck you feel so good, babe. So fucking tight and warm just for me.” He tightens his grip and holds you as he lifts his hips to slam into you. Not as hard as he truly wants to but hard enough to make you scream out and dig your nails down his chest.
He groans loud at the pain, laughing at the red marks you leave on his chest and smacking your ass real hard in retaliation. “Be a good girl or i’ll stop.”
You ignore him and slam body down harder, relishing in the way his cock is rubbing so perfectly against your walls. Your head is thrown back as your pleasure washed over you but before you could actually cum, he’s flipping you to lay on your back, cock staying seated inside of you and hooking your legs over his arms.
He smirks and licks at your glare until you’re opening your mouth and letting him kiss you in the way only he knows how. So sweet, so rough and needy, his tongue fighting yours for control, him gripping your jaw until you open up and he’s spitting in your mouth.
You barely get to swallow it before his lips are back on yours, slowly grinding into you and you don’t acknowledge that the way he’s fucking you is more gentle than he’s ever been. He’s staring down at you, lips hovering above yours and his eyes are refusing to look away from you and you’re shaking. Your moans are much softer than usual, your fingers playing with the hair on his nape, ignoring how domestic this feels and how your eyes are burning, tears threatening to spill.
“So fucking pretty, love.” He’s lower one of your legs, using his free hand to rub at the side of your stomach, eyes widening in shock when he feels a movement.
You feel it too because you’re biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying, the little flutters making your brain mushy and adding a level of domesticity to this fuck session that has you forgetting that this man isn’t yours and you were just the mother of his child.
Sukuna kisses you softly and nuzzles his nose against yours before grinding deeper inside of you. His eyes are hooded and his heart skips a beat when you whisper “Ryo- you feel ngghh, so good.”
And before he can stop himself he’s cumming so much and you’re squirting all over his pubs, and this is fucking heaven beacause Sukuna has never felt so fucking good in his life. He can’t stop filling you, grunting against your mouth as he kisses you at the same slow pace he’s fucking you. His hot white cum is painting your walls and dripping out of your cunt that squeezes every single drop out of him.
He showers with you that night, holding you up against him as he washes your tired body and neither of you mention the fact that he stays the night, pulling you tight against his chest and tangling his legs with you.
It was just sex. It didn’t mean anything that he fell asleep with his face tucked in your neck and his hand holding your belly. Ryomen Sukuna did not do relationships and you were a fucking idiot for falling for him anyways.
Month five
“I’ve been wanting to ask. Why is your last name Sukuna if your father is Wasuke Itadori? I mean, your twin goes by Itadori..”
You were laid back on the frat couch, legs spread across Sukuna’s lap as you dipped a pickle in your jar of peanut butter, ignoring the way everyone looked at you two in bewilderment.
Sukuna grunted, hand rubbing idly on your belly as he waited for his daughter to kick again and used the other to scroll through the phone. “My last name is Itadori, Sukuna is my middle name but I dropped Itadori because I don’t fuck with my dad. Only kept it long enough to claim my inheritance after he died.”
Ryomen Sukuna Itadori.. It’s kind of cute, you thought. Would your baby be an Itadori too?
Month six (26 weeks)
Sukuna is walking you into the new apartment he bought for you and the baby. He refuses to tell you what the price was, telling you it didn’t matter and that it was in a safe, family friendly neighborhood.
He showed you that there were three rooms, one for him, one for the baby, and one for you. You didn’t tell him that your heart sank at the fact that he didn’t want to share a room with you. Again, you knew what you were getting into when you decided to keep his baby, knew there would never be enough room in his heart to see you as anything but the mother of his child.
You’re surprised when you notice a few cans of paint and a long brown box that has a picture of a crib stuck to it, sitting in the corner of the middle room.When you lift a brow in question, head titled back so you can fully stare at the man towering next to you.
He smiles sheepishly, his neck turning red as he grumbles “What? Kid has to have a place to sleep, yeah?”
You only smile, grateful that he wasn’t the kind of man you had to remind to do things. He just did them and didn’t complain. Like when you told him the apartment was too far from campus when you’d officially moved in a week away from going into your seventh month of pregnancy.
‘I can’t walk to class with this huge bump slowing me down! Did you even think about the fact that I don’t have a car before you decided we’d live this far away?”
You began to snap at him a lot too, as your daughter grew and started pressing against your organs, tiny feet kicking into your ribs hard enough to have Sukuna apologizing on her behalf. You’d shoot him a glare, he’d apologize again and fuck you until you were no longer mad at him.
“I’ll buy you a fucking car.”
And he does. You don’t let him spend a lot, just enough to get something safe and reliable, new enough that you wouldn’t have to worry about it later down the road.
In your seventh month, you're big enough that you can no longer hide your very obvious bump. Your friends are supportive, Shoko and Yuki glaring at anyone that stares too long and Uthahime using her body to keep you shielded as much as possible.
They only stopped when you told them this was bound to happen. People will stare, gossip and wonder who the father is and in the end, you’d still be pregnant so it didn’t matter.
Nanami and Sukuna don’t care that it doesn’t bother you though, because it annoys the fuck out of them. One time all three of you were walking to your programming class when a few girls stared with wide eyes and at the same time, they both said “Mind your fucking business!”
You were happy they had been getting along a lot more lately. Nanami even came over and helped Sukuna with painting your daughter’s room. They flipped you off when you snapped a picture, laughing at the way paint covered their faces and Nanami’s glasses were absolutely destroyed.
Month eight (35 weeks)
In your eight month of pregnancy, you're on break and you and Sukuna are spending more time than ever together. Shoko is doing an internship, Yuki and Uthahime are on break overseas and Nanami is close by but visiting your parents for the holidays. You had introduced them to Sukuna the first week of break and they balled when they saw your belly, and balled even harder when they realized the father was an Itadori. Apparently everyone but you knew that Sukuna’s family was one of the richest in the country, nearly as rich as the Gojo’s.
Sukuna was caught off guard by the attention, his face and ears turning pink because he fucking hated that people still associated him with his father, which is why he got the face tattoos in the first place.
He was well behaved the three days you stayed there and now you were both back home, sitting next to each other in the living room Sukuna insisted on paying the bulk of the cost to decorate.
You were dressed in short shorts and a sweater with a heart stitched onto the belly and Sukuna was glaring at you, despite how cute you looked right now with your hair thrown up in a messy style and your face free of any makeup.
“I’m not eating that shit.” He turns his head as you shove a piece of avocado toast toward him.
You get emotional when he refuses to eat the things you cook up and usually he caves, gives into your tantrums because something about seeing you cry leaves him with an aching chest but he refused this time, There was no way-
“Fine!” He rolls his eyes when you start to tear up, hesitantly taking a bite and immediately gagging, even though he swallows it anyways.
“Fucking tastes like photosynthesis. What the fuck are you feeding my child, woman?”
Month 9 (40 weeks)
You’re forty weeks pregnant now, it’s late February and you feel like a whale, refusing to show up for most of your classes unless it was critical, like when you had an exam or a paper due. Yuki, Sukuna and Nanami take notes for your programming class and because that’s the only class you share, he goes about paying students in your other classes for theirs.
You can no longer see your feet at this point and Sukuna has to help you shave. Pregnancy starts to feel like a humiliation ritual, especially when your nipples start leaking small amounts of colostrum.
Sukuna never complains, simply popping a nipple in his mouth and sucking until it stops. He’d groan against your chest, going on about how good it tastes and that he can’t wait to try the real thing after you push out his kid. This usually ended with him taking you as gently as possible, cock throbbing for more but he gave you just enough to leave you satisfied.
Sukuna is putting the baby’s carseat in his car when he hears a yell coming inside the house. He had just gotten done packing his, yours, and the baby’s hospital bag when he stepped outside to set it up. He wasn’t even gone twenty minutes before you started yelling his name.
He’s running inside the apartment, dread filling his entire body and he almost runs past the kitchen until he notices you standing there, eyes wide and staring at the ground.
When he looks down he notices it’s wet, along with the grey sweats you were wearing. He sighs and gives you a small smile, annoyed that you called him in here for this but more than willing to help clean up your accident.
“It’s just pee babe, we’ll get it cleaned up-”
“iT’S NOT PEE YOU IDIOT, MY WATER BROKE.”
ch. 4
❦ lisa's note: omg who's ready to witness sukuna doing the dad walk out the hospital.. im shaking. lemme know what you guys think, your comments make my day!!
Your hand curls around what should have been Sukuna's arm but instead flexes against air, eyes still closed, you pat around the bed feeling absolutely no one.
The other side of the bed is cold.
Not empty-cold, not abandoned-cold. Just cold enough to tell you he’s been gone for a while.
For a moment you consider rolling over and going back to sleep.
Then you glance at the monitor.
The nursery light is on.
A small square of blue glow and a large shadow by the crib.
You push yourself out of bed.
The hardwood floor is cool beneath your feet.
Your body still aches in strange places. Recovery has been slower than you expected. Motherhood has been more beautiful and more terrifying than anyone managed to explain.
The nursery door is cracked open when you reach it.
You stop before stepping inside.
Sukuna is crouched beside the crib.
Not standing.
Not leaning.
Crouched.
As though getting any closer might somehow disturb the tiny sleeping boy in front of him.
The nightlight paints the room with deep hazy blue little white stars speckling the ceiling.
Your son’s fists are curled near his face. His chest rises and falls in tiny, steady breaths.
And Sukuna is staring at him.
Not with pride.
Not even with wonder.
With fear.
Real fear.
The kind you’ve almost never seen on him.
You don’t announce yourself right away, you just stay in the doorway watching with the kind of wonder people usually reserve for seeing an endangered species.
But the sight in front of you almost feels the same.
His forearms rest on his knees.
His head is slightly bowed.
For a long moment he says nothing.
Then quietly,
“You’re so small.”
His voice sounds rough.
Unused.
Like he hasn’t spoken in hours.
The baby sighs in his sleep.
Sukuna’s gaze follows every movement.
Every breath.
Every twitch.
As if he’s making sure he’s still there.
“I keep waiting for it.”
You frown.
Something twists in your chest.
“Waiting for what?”
The word leaves before you mean to speak.
His shoulders tense.
Not because he’s startled.
Because he’s been caught.
For a second he doesn’t look at you.
Doesn’t move.
Then he exhales.
“The other shoe.”
You step into the room.
Slowly.
The floor creaks beneath your feet.
“He looks like me.”
The confession is quiet.
You glance toward the crib.
Your son has his eyes.
The same sharp brows though faint.
The same shape to his mouth.
You know exactly what Sukuna sees when he looks at him.
Not a baby.
A reflection.
“I know.”
He laughs once.
There’s no humor in it.
“That’s the problem.”
The room falls silent.
You watch his jaw tighten.
Watch him stare at the sleeping child.
Watch a man who has never been afraid of much suddenly look terrified of something he can’t fight.
“What if he gets the worst of me?”
The question hangs there heavy and wrong.
“I know what I was like.”
His eyes never leave the crib.
“What I am.”
You hate hearing him talk like that.
Not because it’s untrue.
Not because it’s true.
Because you know exactly how long he’s carried it.
The list of things he regrets.
The parts of himself he’s spent years trying to outrun.
“What if he’s angry like me?”
His voice is barely above a whisper now.
“What if he’s cruel?”
“What if I teach him something wrong without realizing it?”
Your throat tightens.
“What if one day he looks at someone the way I used to look at people?”
“What if he becomes the kind of man I wouldn’t have wanted around you?”
For a moment neither of you speak like maybe he’s out of what if’s.
The nursery hums softly around you.
The monitor light blinks.
Outside, the world keeps moving slowly starting to wake up.
But inside, everything narrows to the space between your husband and your sleeping son.
You move closer.
Close enough to touch.
Close enough to smell the soap on his skin.
Then you squat down with him and rest your chin on his shoulder.
His body goes still.
Not because he doesn’t expect affection.
Because he doesn’t expect comfort.
Not when he’s talking about things he’d rather hide.
You look into the crib with him.
At your son.
At the tiny human who has no idea how fiercely he’s already loved.
“No.”
Sukuna doesn’t answer, but you feel him listening in the way his body slows his harsh breaths.
“No, he’s probably going to get the worst parts of both of us.”
That earns the smallest snort.
“He’s going to inherit my stubbornness,”
“My tendency to make terrible decisions,”
“Your inability to ask for help.”
His shoulder shifts slightly beneath your chin.
“And our combined talent for being difficult.”
That one almost makes him smile.
Almost.
The tension in the room eases by a fraction.
Just enough.
You slide your hand over his shoulder.
Lace your fingers together across his chest.
“But he’s also going to get the best parts.”
Sukuna is quiet.
“I don’t know if there are any.”
You squeeze his hand.
Hard.
“There are.”
His eyes close briefly.
You keep talking before he can argue.
“He’s going to be brave.”
You glance at the crib.
“He’s going to be loyal.”
Your voice softens.
“He’s going to love hard.”
And then, because it’s the thing Sukuna never sees when he looks at himself—
“He’s going to be protective.”
You feel him swallow.
“He’ll get that from you.”
For a long moment he says nothing.
The baby shifts in his sleep.
Makes a tiny noise.
Immediately Sukuna’s attention snaps back to him, instant, instinctive, protective over something as meaningless as a sound.
You watch it happen.
Watch the concern appear before he even realizes it.
And something inside you aches.
“There.”
You nod toward the crib.
Toward your son.
Toward the man crouched beside him.
“That’s what he’ll learn.”
Sukuna’s eyes stay fixed on the baby.
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
You rest your chin against the top of his head.
“But I know you.”
Silence.
Then a whisper so quiet you almost miss it,
“I really don’t want to fail him.”
Your eyes sting.
Because for all his fear.
For all his flaws.
For all the ghosts he keeps expecting to find in himself—
Bad fathers don’t sit awake in the middle of the night worrying about becoming bad fathers.
Bad fathers don’t crouch beside cribs.
Bad fathers don’t spend hours staring at their sleeping sons, terrified of passing on their mistakes.
He wanted a boy. Someone who he could be rough with, who he could wrestle and play in the mud with.
A boy who would play monster trucks with him, one who’d be a destructive little power house like himself.
Someone who would inherit the throne. Who would rule with an iron fist, just like him.
But instead of a rowdy little boy, he got her.
A dazzling, glitter obsessed, unicorn loving girl.
She left sparkles wherever she went, sassed people without even realizing, and insisted on being grown enough to wear mommy’s heels, despite only being three.
So as Sukuna stared at her, stickers plastered across his frowning face, lipgloss smeared against his lips sloppily, and pink hair pushed back with a cat headband, he grinned.
Not because he could see his daughter becoming like him, a brute, no. But instead because he saw her growing up to be like you.
A kind, gentle-hearted woman, who could love even the baddest of bad.
