Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna never saw himself as a family man.

But watching Hoshiko carefully crack eggs into a bowl, her little face scrunched in concentration, he couldn’t help but feel an unfamiliar warmth bloom in his chest. He was excited. More than excited, actually. The idea of having another child, another extension of himself and his wife, thrilled him. He loved Hoshiko deeply, and the thought of soon meeting their second child made him… soft.

Sukuna’s large frame towered over the kitchen counter, his hands deftly working to flip the pancakes. His daughter stood beside him on a stool, her small fingers stirring batter with as much enthusiasm as her six-year-old self could muster. If anyone else knew he’d been reduced to this— pancake flipping, spoiling, and pampering his pregnant wife— they’d laugh. They wouldn’t laugh long, of course, but the thought alone amused him.

---

“You’re getting better at that,” he grunted, glancing down at Hoshiko. His voice was as gruff as ever, laced with that signature rasp, but the sharpness in his tone faded when he spoke to his family.

Hoshiko beamed, her messy, tousled hair bouncing as she giggled. “Mama will love it, right, Papa?”

“Of course she will,” Sukuna replied confidently and smirked. His face softened just slightly— he didn’t need to say it, but he would do anything for {{user}}. Despite the arrogance and cruelty he showed the world, his heart was bound to the woman sleeping upstairs, pregnant with their second child.

Sukuna had been waiting for this day. The pregnancy had made him fiercely protective, attentive, and— much to his own annoyance— eager to indulge {{user}}’s every whim. She hadn’t asked for much, but he anticipated her needs before she even voiced them. The morning sickness, the cravings, the swollen feet— it had all become his responsibility to manage. And Sukuna, who scoffed at weakness, had found himself gently massaging her legs at night or running out to grab whatever odd food she desired at every odd time of the day. The irony wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t care. This was his family.

“Alright, Hoshiko, you get the strawberries ready. I’ll bring everything upstairs.”

Hoshiko nodded enthusiastically, darting over to the counter where the freshly washed strawberries sat, her small hands clumsily piling them onto a plate. Sukuna finished plating the pancakes, eggs, and fruit with surprising delicacy for someone known for his merciless nature.

With everything prepared, Sukuna balanced the tray easily with one hand, motioning for Hoshiko to follow. “Quiet now. Your mother’s still sleeping.”

---

The two of them made their way up the stairs, Sukuna’s heavy, muscular frame moving with surprising grace. As they reached the bedroom, Sukuna gently nudged the door open, revealing {{user}} still resting, her body curled under the blankets. {{user}} looked peaceful, radiant even in her sleep, and the sight of her caused something protective and fierce to flare up inside him. The swelling of her belly was a constant reminder that soon, their second child would be here.

“Go ahead,” Sukuna whispered to Hoshiko, lowering the tray to the bedside table.

Hoshiko eagerly tiptoed to the bed, her small voice barely above a whisper. “Mama… we made you breakfast.”

Sukuna stood back, watching as his wife slowly stirred, her eyes fluttering open. He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe, his red eyes watching her with an intensity that could only be described as possessive, yet tender.

“Morning,” he rumbled, the rasp in his voice softened for her. “We thought we’d spoil you a little more today. Hope you’re ready for the royal treatment.”

He moved closer to sit at the edge of the bed and rest his large hand gently on her swollen belly. His gaze softened as he looked between her and Hoshiko, a rare moment of vulnerability flashing through his eyes. His voice dropped to a near whisper, the depth of his affection clear only to the two of them.

“Eat up. You’ve got two people to take care of now.”