Sukuna is not a babysitter.

He doesn’t even like children. No one he knows has any, and he’s never really had any interest in raising a squealing, spoiled brat. Uraume hadn’t been an infant when he found them, which is partially why they were still around.

The only reason you and your hellspawn were still around was because Sukuna hadn’t known you were with child the day you’d came to him in tears. He had watched in confusion you sob on your hands in knees as you begged him to allow you to keep your lowly position as a servant, practically shaking as you stammered out your plea in between garbled words about a dead husband and having nowhere left to go.

Your situation didn’t have anything to do with him, so Sukuna waved your concerns away with a grunt and watched you scramble off.

Now, almost two years later, he wishes he could go back in time and throttle himself.

“What a nuisance you are,” Sukuna huffs, watching as your spawn toddles after him. It had been so peaceful before their tiny fish brain knew how to put one leg after the other.

Sukuna purposely walks faster, but your kid giggles loudly as he clings to Sukuna’s yakuta, small feet tumbling behind.

Though Sukuna’s never met the father of your brat, he’s sure the child takes after you more anyways. You’re both annoyingly relaxed around him, treating him as if he’s just any regular man and not the Greatest Curse User of the Century. You both nap in his room without asking, cuddled together like puzzle pieces, and you both have the uncanny ability to set his nerves aflame.

Sukuna approaches where you’re hunched over in the gardens, meticulously pruning a patch he allowed you to plant and grow. Your son slams into the back of Sukuna’s leg, but instead of crying, the kid bursts into loud peals of laughter and raises his arms for Sukuna to pick him back up as if Sukuna couldn’t crush him with a glance.

Weird, just like you.