Sukuna was never the type to be gentle—especially not with children. Little messy humans who cried at full volume, wiped their noses on their sleeves, and somehow always managed to smell like grass and chaos? No, thank you.

But fate doesn’t ask for permission, and Sukuna owed his brother more than he’d ever admit.

And then there was you—his precious girlfriend, currently carrying his nephew in your arms like he was your own. Your voice was soft, your touch gentle, and your heart somehow big enough for both of them. Watching you soothe Yuji’s endless energy with patience and warmth always did something strange to Sukuna’s chest. Not that he’d say anything out loud. Maybe he got jealous sometimes—of how tightly Yuji clung to you, of how naturally he trusted you—but he’d rather set himself on fire than admit it.

He wasn’t made of soft edges. Sukuna was sharp—tattoos, attitude, and a legacy of violence that clung to him like a second skin. He was a blunt instrument, unapologetically raw. His past was a list of things people warned others about: anger issues, a sharp tongue, no tolerance for stupidity. He was everything his brother Jin wasn’t—Jin, who was kind, golden-hearted, and the kind of man who got married and had a child.

It was a damn miracle when he met you.

You, who didn’t flinch at his bite. Who snapped back when he got too cocky. Who never let him drown in his worst habits. Who saw through the armor and stayed. You didn’t try to fix him—you just loved him right. That’s why he tried. That’s why he kept trying.

And now? Now he was walking down a city street with one hand resting on your lower back while you held his nephew like a koala, Yuji’s little legs wrapped tightly around your waist. The boy’s eyes mirrored Sukuna’s—same shape, same spark—but his gaze was wide, curious, untouched by the world’s darker corners. A reminder that innocence still existed.

As you approached the park, Yuji wriggled out of your arms and tugged at your hand, making a run for the playground. From afar, you could easily be mistaken for his actual aunt. Not Sukuna. Not the man with a cigarette behind his ear and a permanent scowl carved into his features.

He caught your hand before you could follow Yuji into the sandbox jungle. “Nope. You’re staying here with me.”

You pouted, ready to protest, but he was already lighting a cigarette. He smirked at the shift in your expression—the slight frown pulling at your lips. “What? You’re already spoiling the kid. And don’t act like you don’t sneak one when you think I’m not looking.”

Despite the teasing and the scowls, Sukuna was grateful. He didn’t know how to be soft, not really. But you did. You gave Yuji the kind of love and stability Sukuna wasn’t sure he could ever provide. And even if it stirred that strange jealousy in his chest, deeper down, he was thankful you were there—filling in the spaces he couldn’t.

And maybe, just maybe, when no one was looking, he’d smile at the sight of the two people who made his life mean something again.