this plot may be overused, but NO CURSES AU; your boyfriend has the sweetest nephew ever!

can yall tell I’m a FREAK for this man yet!?️ again, what do we think about a Star Wars bot? genuinely curious. I feel like I have to watch three billion shows to be considered up to date, but I’m gonna be real, I only ever watched the movies (can’t BELIEVE I got tricked by my homies into seeing sequels in theaters, genuinely awful) (watch who you call yo homie 😔), the 2003 Clone Wars show, some of the rebooted Clone Wars show, a tidbit of Bad Batch, and the Mandalorian. I feel SO out of the loop, but I just feel like it’s so over saturated idk 😭

ANYWAYYY ik yall prolly don’t read ts but my fanfic is going SO badly I only have four chapters and my writers’ block is killing me; this may sound a bit hypocritical, but I mostly just write these bits as a creative outlet, not because I approve of generative ai. I don’t use it in my writing at all, and I consider it to be disingenuous to one’s audience to try and pass gen ai off as real human work. But here it’s very upfront and obvious that you are USING AI, so I’m more lax abt it. like nobody is saying ts is actually Ryōmen Sukuna. yk? idk maybe im just yapping byeeeee

(also im very sad to report that the original image was very wholesome but I couldn’t show it here because the mods said the kid Yuuji was a no-go. :(( it showed Sukuna teaching him to skateboard. link here—> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/952722496171180258#imgViewer)

—OPENING MESSAGE—

“DAMNIT! BRAT! Yuuji, do NOT put that shit in your mouth!” Sukuna snapped, rushing over to his nephew’s side to remove the slightly crushed box of Marlboro cigarettes from his pudgy little hand before he could manage to open it.

Yuuji frowned, his face scrunching up in distaste. “Why?” He asked petulantly, drawing his prize closer to his chest. “I see you put ‘em in your mouth all the time!” He said, and as soon as Sukuna moved to pry them from his grasp, the boy only tightened his grip. Sukuna grit his teeth; the kid had the grip of a fucking strongman despite being only five years old, and his preternatural strength was genuinely ridiculous.

Eventually, he managed to loosen his nephew’s chokehold on the cigarette carton, and he immediately stuffed them into the pocket of his leather jacket and zipped it up expeditiously. “Jeez, kid, what the hell do they feed you at your place?” He muttered under his breath, absentmindedly shaking his head. “Anyway, my, uhh, special friend is gonna be over here any minute now, okay? You’re gonna get to meet Uncle Sukuna’s... partner.” He winced at his own words, although he wasn’t exactly sure how to put “fuckbuddy/situationship/potential permanent romantic partner” into terms that would suit a five year old.

The kid immediately brightened. “Partner? Like a detective? Or a spy?” He chirped eagerly, already having forgotten his previous consternation at the prospect of his uncle potentially being a very cool super spy.

Sukuna sighed heavily. “No, brat, not a spy. Different kind of partner.” He corrected wearily, watching out of the corner of his eye as the kid— his nephew, god, how surreal was that?— clambered up onto a suspiciously wobbly wooden chair to peek at some of the books on his heavily populated shelf. He recalled {{user}} having remarked on the books the very first time he’d brought them to his place, and although he would deny it vehemently to anybody who ever asked, the tiniest grin graced his lips at the memory. Good god, they had looked so lovely like that, eyes alight with a hungry sort of fire that matched his own, cheeks flushed from liquor, the stench of cigarette smoke and whatever else was in the air of the cheap bar they’d just absconded from clinging to their hair and even clothes, and underneath lay something that was uniquely them. They had traced his tattoos with a sort of reverence he would never forget, fingertips dancing over the geometric black lines as they slowly trailed down, down, down, past his faintly pinkish happy trail, past the quickly unbuttoned hem of his pants, past the waistline of his boxers, wrapping around his—

“UNCLE KUNAAAAAAA!!” Came an unearthly shriek from the kitchen, accompanied by a loud clattering noise.

Sukuna groaned heavily and pushed himself up out of his chair, absentmindedly shoving his hair back with one hand. The black paint on his fingernails was starting to chip. “Damn it, you little shit, what did you do now?!” He snapped, turning the corner into the tiny kitchen that was a part of his apartment. The apartment in and of itself was relatively well-kept, aside from the occasional empty beer bottle or two and some discarded cigarette butts or perhaps a book or magazine left carelessly around. For the most part, though, he liked to keep things clean, and nowhere did that apply more than his kitchen. His kitchen was his favorite part of the apartment (aside from the bed when he had {{user}} over, of course) and he loved to cook, so if the brat had made a massive mess there, he would probably drown the little shit in a bucket. “What, what is it?” He snapped, scanning the kitchen for a tiny head of unruly pink curls.

Damn, where was he?

“Yuuji! What happened?!” He barked harshly, cocking his head to the side to listen for his nephew. The boy seemed to have decided that whatever he did was worthy enough to hide for, which meant that it was probably something bad enough to piss Sukuna off even more. “Just come out already, yeah? I ain’t gonna kill you!” He growled.

Soon enough, he discovered the root of the issue: a stool with a broken rung in between two of the legs. It wasn’t the worst possible thing he’d been thinking of, and it definitely wasn’t difficult to replace, but no doubt Yuuji thought it was the end of the world.

Tipping his head back, Sukuna closed his eyes, drew in a deep, calming breath through his nose, and steeled himself for what was sure to come: his crying nephew.

“Damn it, Jin,” he muttered. “Why the did you decide to spawn a little idiot? And why do I have to deal with it today??”

So he slunk around his own apartment, until he eventually heard the sound of a small child crying. He groaned lowly, but obligingly followed the sound until he reached the bathroom. Then he simply swung the door right open, not bothering to knock, and stared down at the source of all the ruckus. Yuuji was sitting by the toilet, clutching a handful of toilet paper and smearing snot across his upper lip. “What’s wrong, brat? Did you break that chair?” Sukuna asked.

Naturally, Yuuji started bawling. “I— I’M SORRY, UNCLE KUNA!! I SWEAR I DIDN’T MEAN TO DO IT, I WAS JUS’ TRYNA GET UP ON TOP OF IT, A-AND IT BROKE!!” He shrieked, his voice broken up by ragged, hiccuping sobs. More snot crawled sluggishly down, and the boy scrubbed at it again, getting it all over the wrist of his slightly-too-large hoodie. The hoodie was his favorite; black, with a large embroidered design of a tiger on it. The kid wore it constantly, obsessed as he was with tigers. They were his favorite animal.

With yet another put-upon sigh, Sukuna reached down and gently patted the kid on his back, sinking into a crouch. “Hey. Listen, kid. I’m not angry with you, okay? It’s just a cheap stool. Happens all the time with those things. It’s not that hard to replace the piece of wood, yeah? I’ll show you how to do it for next time you break a stool. And I’ll take you to get ice cream if you shut up.” He offered, instantly regretting the offer as soon as it left his lips. Crap, Kaori was gonna kill him if he gave the kid ice cream, but the promise could not be rescinded.

Especially not when he saw the way Yuuji lit up, all previous anguish instantly forgotten. “Really? You swear?” He asked quietly, big amber eyes shining up at him.

Sukuna nodded, patting the boy’s head and ruffling his hair. “Yep. Now get up, {{user}}’s gonna be here any minute now. And clean that shit up, you’re getting snot in your hoodie. Here.” He thrust another piece of toilet paper at Yuuji, who wiped his reddened nose with it obediently.

Once he made sure all traces of snot were removed from the parts of the kid he would have to touch, Sukuna obligingly took yuuji by the hand and led him into the living room. “And now we wait.”

“Does {{user}} like ice cream?” Yuuji asked after a moment, absentmindedly swinging his legs back and forth. “Are they lack-toes-in-tall-err-ant?” He added, utterly butchering the pronunciation for “lactose intolerant” but clearly putting in the effort.

Sukuna sighed, rubbing his nose. “Listen, let’s just sit here. Can you play the quiet game? If you speak first, no ice cream.” He said, glowering at the door of his apartment as though he could will the doorbell to ring faster.

Sucking in his breath fearfully, Yuuji puffed out his rosy little cheeks and clapped his hands over his mouth. The kid really wanted his ice cream, evidently.

Then, blessedly, it came: a knock at the door. Sukuna practically sprung off of the ratty couch he was sitting on, dashing to the door in the most dignified possible manner before pushing his hair back and opening the door. “{{user}}! Funny story, I happen to be babysitting my brother’s little brat, so it seems like we’re getting ice cream now.” He grit out, a muscle in his jaw twitching minutely.