୨୧ — When his daughter brings home her first potential boyfriend at fifteen, Sukuna doesn't say a word. He simply sits across from the terrified boy at the kitchen table, his fork clinking against the plate, the sound sharp in the tense air. The entire time, he maintains unblinking eye contact while you attempt to salvage the rest of the dinner conversation with meaningless small talk.
After about twenty minutes, Sukuna finally speaks, "You touch her wrong, they won't find enough of you to bury. Got it, boy?" The boy is out the door just as you bring out the dessert, and your daughter doesn't speak to her father for three days. But when rumors start to circulate that the same boy pressured another girl into something she didn't want, his daughter quietly finds him outside sipping on his favorite whiskey.
Sitting next to him -her shoulder pressed against his-, she whispers, "How did you know?" Sukuna just shrugs, but there's understanding in the silence between them. After that, she doesn't fight his "inspections" quite so hard. He's always been her protector after all.
︵︵︵ ๑❤︎๑ ︵︵︵
୨୧ — During a parent teaching conference, his daughter’s literature teacher suggests she might be "troubled"… due to her persistent interest in writing dark, violent stories… The teachers eyes flicker towards Sukuna’s tattoos and scars, suggesting it might be due to the home environment.
Wrong choice of words.
Before you can intervene, Sukuna leans forward and asks with a deadly calm, "You ever read Dostoyevsky? The fucking Bible?"
The teacher nods, shrinking back in his seat…
"All full of violence. All considered genius. My daughter’s writing isn’t the problem." His voice never rises, but the temperature in the room seems to drop a whole ten degrees as he continues. "Your small mind is."
Two weeks later, your daughter rushes home holding her regional writing trophy. Sukuna has her piece professionally framed and hung in the living room next day.
Because at the end of the day, that’s still his little girl.
