he'd offered the finger as a formality. a courtesy. something for the baby to grip while he assessed whether her reflexes were developing at an marginal rate.

"watch," he said, lowering one enormous finger toward the baby's hands. "she has my grip. even now she—"

the baby grabbed his finger, yanked it toward her face, and bit down.

"—she," sukuna continued, a half-second too late to maintain any dignity, "is biting me."

sukuna's expression did not change. internally however, several alarms went off.

"...woman."

you didn't even look up from refolding the laundry. "yes?"

"your daughter is eating me."

"she's not eating you. she's gumming on you. it's a teething thing."

"she has applied her entire jaw to my finger."

"babies don't have much jaw strength, 'kuna."

"clearly," he said, "you have never had this jaw applied to you," and then immediately looked like he regretted phrasing it that way, because you finally looked up, eyebrows raised, and he had the distinct displeasure of watching you decide whether to comment.

you decided to comment.

"is the king of curses," you enunciated slowly, abandoning your folding "being overpowered by an infant with no teeth."

"she has some teeth."

"two." you quirked helpfully.

"two is sufficient," sukuna seethed, with the air of a man defending a strategic position that had already fallen 7 seconds ago "tell her to release me."

"she's your daughter. you tell her." a mischievous tilt on your lips as you suddenly found the laundry interesting again.

he looked down. the baby looked back up at him—entirely unbothered, delighted, his finger still firmly between her gums—and made a small happy noise around it, like she was settling in for the long haul.

"release," sukuna told her, in the same flat tone he used to order executions.

she did not release. red eyes much like her fathers staring right back at him.

"i said release, spawn."

she gnawed with feeling.

sukuna sat with this for a long moment. you watched him have, visibly, an entire internal negotiation with himself, the outcome of which was never actually in doubt.

"fine," he said at last, to no one. "fine—she may continue, briefly, as a — as a developmental exercise."

"sure."

"for her jaw."

"mhm."

"i'm doing this for her." he could sense the sarcasm in your tone.

"no totally, i get you."

he settled back, finger still very much occupied, four eyes fixed on the baby with an expression that — on anyone else — you would have called soft. on him you didn't say it out loud, because the one time you had, years ago, he'd denied it so aggressively he'd nearly set something on fire.

the baby drooled happily onto the king of curses' hand and made no further comment.

neither did he, for the better part of an hour.

sukuna big softie ok.