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siolixz · 15 days ago

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ღ Of Love and Loyaltyღ

+18

Part 2

Pairings: Oz "The Penguin" Cobb x Reader

Reader takes Victor's place in this story. She and Oz have developed a relationship of sorts and she changed based on everything around her.

Reader is a young girl infatuated with a man decades older than her- who is also very dangerous and powerful (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)👌 pls take everything with a grain of salt. Oz's mom is actually dead in this story. I will write a third and final part to this after the last episode. Everyone in this story is 18+ and consenting 100%.

Enjoy, give some feedback if you want. (>‿◠)✌

Warnings: violence, age-gap relationship, smut(¬‿¬)

You finally made something of yourself. Sure it was all blood money, but you did- you did what you had to do to survive and not only that, to thrive.

Before leaving he told you to get in the car while he talked to Sofia outside, when you got back he was on his knees- a gun pointed at his face. You acted on impulse and drove the car into one of the guys there; best thing you could’ve done at the moment he told you.

You would think that planning to escape would distance you from him but it did the opposite- even after wrecking his car, that poor gorgeous car; you’ve never been in one as fancy before- let alone drive it.

“I’m so-sorry about your car.” you said as you stared at it in flames.

“Yeah- what're ya gonna do 'bout it- only the good die young.” he came closer to you and grabbed the back of your head- forcing you to look at him. “Don’t be sad about it- you’re worth a thousand more to me.”

He told you that you two were “really in it now”- and he couldn’t have been more right about that.

He got the Bliss operation back from the Maroni family by burning the mother and the heir apparent to their family- together. His brutality frightened you but If he wanted to rule the mob- he had to be brutal and unwavering in his choices, at least that’s what you told yourself to justify what he had done. Now not only Sofia Gigante was after you, but also Sal Maroni.

In the weeks following you had your own operation- underground, in a sewer system that connected you to all of Gotham, you became Oz’s eyes and ears above ground, traveling on your motorcycle- giving him news about the world above and delivering his money directly in his hands. He had given you your own gun—"just in case someone messes with you"—though you never ended up using it.

Oz trusted you, even after your attempt at an escape- he moved you two to an apartment on the East Side, one that reminded you of your old one; without electricity but it did its job. In the apartment you got very close to him, you got to know him much better and you changed too in the meantime, you were more confident- more sure of yourself next to him.

He was all you had, the one person who made you feel like you were the center of his world. One night- he came "home" late, as he often did. You were already in bed, curled up and trying to stay warm when you felt the familiar weight of his body sinking into the mattress. He slid under the covers and pulled you close, and you sighed, finally feeling the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

"The people in charge really don’t give a fuck about us," you murmured, exhaustion lacing your voice. It was a tired frustration—being cold at work and now being cold at home. Winter was coming, and your mind drifted to families with children who needed warmth.

He took a deep breath. The long days weighed heavily on him; managing his people and the constant stress left him drained. Most nights, he would grab a bite, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, cold or not, he’d fall into a deep sleep. You’d take advantage of those moments, cuddling close and pulling his heavy arm over you. Oswald slept like a rock.

"I’ll do something about it," he said, his deep voice vibrating through you. In the weeks you’d been together, you’d learned how to speak to him, how to make him feel powerful—your man, your only one. He was the only man who had ever made you feel this way, and you couldn’t deny the rush you felt watching him command respect when he barked out orders to his men, a cigar perched between his lips. God, he was handsome. Your stomach would flutter every time you caught a glimpse of him, even if only for a second.

He was a towering presence, terrifying when he loomed over you, and seeing him angry was enough to scare you senseless. But it also sets your heart racing for other reasons too.

Before the club, his gaze never strayed from you; now, it was his hands that constantly sought you. He couldn't help himself when you were close, sometimes grabbing you in public like an eager kid in a candy shop. You learned that when he called you into his "office," it meant he was either seething with anger or burning with desire—either way, you knew he’d end up taking it out on you.

He’d told you more than once that he hadn’t felt this alive in years, and you could sense the shift in everything he did—from the way he spoke to the intensity in the way he fucked you. He had changed.

You told him about Squid- about how he came up to you today- asking you where you got your clothes- “what shit you got cooking” - Oz asked you if it was going to be a problem, you told him no; he could count on you- you won’t let him down.

“You know, I think you’re the only thing keeping me good, doll.” he traced circles on your arm. If you were keeping him good, what was Oz like when bad? The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt his hands traveling under the blanket and beneath the sweater and t-shirt you had on and you proceeded to hiss once they made contact with your skin “your hands are so cold” you said and he chuckled.

The next day, you made true to your promise and met up with Squid- you had a plan, of course you did, you would give him some money and hope he would leave you alone.

Of course the dumb bastard declined the money- of course he tried to intimidate you to “bring him to the big man” or else he was gonna go to the Maronis or Falcones- maybe they would help him; the fuck was he thinking? That a small-time asshole like him could make a deal with Oz?

So many thoughts were running through your head, what if you did bring him to Oz? You didn’t want to bother him, he had enough stuff he had to worry about- plus the things Oz would do to him were too graphic to think about. What if you ran? No, he would catch you- probably beat the shit out of you too. Shit.

“Ok, I’ll take you to him.” you said as you were going down the steps, him following. Fuck-fuck you had to shoot him, this motherfucker was going to ruin whatever you had going on.

You had to shoot him, no other time better than now- your pistol was in the front of your jeans. Do it now. You grabbed your gun from your pants and before you knew it, you turned around and pulled the trigger.

When you opened your eyes, Squid was gripping his throat- blood was coming out in buckets- he stared at you and your shocked face. Neither of you believing what you just did. Your breathing was becoming heavier and heavier- almost gasping for breath- you just shot someone- he was going to die.

Oh god, he was dying. You watched as the light drained from his eyes and you didn’t want to stick around to see him pass so you ran- you ran to your motorcycle and then you drove above the speed limit, probably breaking a few laws too until you got underground.

He was probably dead by now- you just killed him. You never realized that you were crying as well; you ran to his office and thanked the lord that no one was around to see you.

You opened the door and there he was, wearing a well tailored shirt and a vest- writing something down- money next to him. He quickly looked up as he heard you come in and then dropped his head down to continue what he was writting “Well look who decided to pay me a visit”, he muttered with a smirk; you tried to control your sobs and when he heard the shallow breath you took to steady yourself- he looked up again “The fuck happened?” he immediately got up and went towards you.

You told him what happened between sobs as he held you on his lap, seated in his chair. You told him everything; about Squid- how he threatened to go to the Falcones or the Maronis- how you knew you had no choice and while leaning back he told you that it will get easier, this isn’t the end of the world.

“You wanna know something?” He grabbed your face and made you look at him “You did what was right, you protected yourself, what you have. No one can take that from you- I’m proud of you.” Your sad demeanor was gone by now and replaced with the familiar warmth you had whenever he said something like this.

He kissed you and brought your body and embraced you “You’ve grown so much in these weeks, you’re no longer the kid that used to sneak around buildings-” you kissed him, bringing his lower lip between your lips. You wanted to forget- forget what happened and what you did- he always made you forget all your worries, you only ever thought about him when you were in his presence. He put his arm beneath both of your legs as you were sitting and you almost yelped when he got you on his desk.

“Oz-” Ok, maybe getting him started wasn’t the best idea, whenever you got him going he would forget about the windows in his office or the fact that someone might hear you.

You tried to bring one of your legs between the two of you, trying to stop him “-Oz, when we are home” you tried to reason with the man, even if getting fucked in his office would turn you on in the worst ways and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t getting wet already.

He loved the power he would hold over you- whenever he would manhandle you in any position he would like or whenever he would order you to do something- you couldn’t lie, you liked it too; sometimes he would have you suck his cock as he solved the men's pay, sometimes he would have you on all fours on his bed- Oz was a man that loved to be in control, to be number one- the best. You knew that.

He was already getting your jacket off, “Oz-” he grabbed the money from the table and placed it away from you two, before getting back to kissing and groping you.

He grabbed hold of your clothed pussy and from the feeling of his hand there- you raised your butt slightly up and pushed back into him.

This relationship that you two had, it made you feel like a woman- it was so different than the one you had with Robert, where it was just light touches on your face and small kisses- Oswald was a man, whenever he wanted you, he would have you and it made you feel as if you were wanted and desired- it made you feel alive.

He stopped and you knew someone was probably at the door. Shit- this is so embarrassing, you looked down and without making eye contact, went into the small room connecting to his office- he had a bed there, a small one; not big enough for two people to sleep comfortably but it was something. It was also way more warm in here than outside where everyone else was working.

You took your sweater off and sat on the bed, while listening to what he was saying to the guy that came in, something about the meeting he had and a surprise. You had to ask him about that, but after he was done with you.

Your heart was beating out of your ches- the door opened.

He looked at you and made small steps towards the bed, you were smiling while scooting back- with butterflies dancing in your stomach; wondering what he was gonna do next when he grabbed both of your legs and placed them on either side of him before joining you on the bed- on top of you.

One of his hands immediately went to your ass, giving him easier access to rubbing himself over you and the other one was supporting him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer as your lips met his. Despite the darkness and heaviness of the moment, he still radiated a magnetic presence—full of charisma as ever, his scent enveloping you in a way that made everything else fade. From the sharpness of his aftershave to the depth of his cologne, he had it all. He started pushing himself even harder against you, where it was almost painful; you moaned in his mouth and against his tongue.

He raised himself on his knees on the bed, casting a shadow over you and ordered you to take your jeans off and get on all fours while he was taking his vest off and unbuttoning his dress shirt. Your hands were shaking a little bit as you unbuttoned your pants and took them off.

After you obeyed him and raised your butt in the air, he grabbed hold of it- to angle you how he wanted; excitement so palpable you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, almost laughing. You felt him slowly enter you, giving you a few small moments to adjust to his size- you closed your eyes and moaned, you don’t think you’re ever gonna get enough of this man; all of him.

“Oh baby-” he was always so vocal during sex.

The feeling of him stretching you out and the feeling of him pushing himself in you in and out- whenever he would press himself back in, he brushed up against your g-spot- the sound of his body when it connected to yours was so loud- it made your cheeks burn- you were so wet and he didn’t even touch you all that much, like that night at the club. He had a gun under your chin and you were so wet, who even were you anymore?

You arched your back, consciously making yourself as pleasing as possible for him. The act itself sent a thrill through you, but it also made your cheeks flush with a mix of desire and shy uncertainty- the usual girlhood embarrassment that flushed your cheeks overtaking your body whenever he had you like this.

When he found his rhythm- while grabbing your waist and pushing you back into him, he’d shower you with praise. “You take me so well… you’re such a good girl—my good girl.” He knew exactly how to make your stomach flip with words like that—this old dog.

He pulled you back against him time and time again before you felt like it was almost painful, your moans of pleasure mixing with those of pain.

He pulled himself out and got on his back next to you, ”Come ‘ere” you giggled in excitement- he loved whenever you rode him.

You squatted over him- your legs on either side of his body and with one of your hands- you brought his cock between your legs and you watched closely as his stupid grin was wiped from his face when you lowered down on him, mouth open- you gave him a quick peck on his lips. Your legs were almost shaking and a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead.

From this position you could feel him so deep inside- you started to grind yourself on him- it felt so good; you almost started crying again.

Oz grabbed your tits from underneath your shirt and was slowly pushing himself deeper in you “You’re my girl- I’m so proud-” he groaned as he said that, this mountain of a man- beneath you, between your thighs; you felt like you held the power “-I’m so proud of you.”

From this position you could feel him brushing against your clit, the feeling only making you go faster, the thrill of reaching your peak on him taking over “easy…easy” he repeated- obviously, you didn't listen.

You shifted the tempo, lifting yourself up before sliding back down, causing him to grimace. Without missing a beat, he pulled your upper body down, pressing you flush against him- you pressed your face against his shoulder and he grabbed it- holding it there; the cold feeling of his rings compared to how hot your face was giving you goosebumps.

You felt him adjust his legs and from this position he started to fuck you how he wanted to. He thrived on being in charge, practically reveled in the power it gave him. God, your throat was dry- you were sure you would be sore down there after you two were done.

You knew anyone walking by could 100% hear you at this point, you tried to be quiet but to no avail with this man. Oz seemed to like whenever people would stare at the two of you and it excited him to think anyone would be listening in.

You brought your face up when he slowed down and kissed him, putting your tongue in his mouth. This felt so amazing but you knew he probably had places he had to be. “Do I make you feel good baby?” you nodded, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the right side of his face, right on the thick scar that ran from his mouth to his cheekbone.

He was a strikingly intimidating man, his features hardened by a life of danger. You slowly brought yourself down and up- trying to match his movements.

“You get so tight around me-” he placed his arm over you, bringing you as tight as he could on him.

One of your hands went under the pillow he had under his head and the other was gripping the side of the bed. His rhythm was becoming sloopy- switching between fucking you and kissing you, on your cheeks or on your mouth; he grabbed your ass in both of his hands, squeezing and pushing you down on him while he fucked you.

You looked in his eyes, the light from above casting a shadow over them that only added to his allure. “-I’m gonna cum” you nodded again- words escaping you “Tell me where-tell me” he closed his eyes- you knew he would start with that, the only way he finished was inside you.

Whether it was your mouth or your pussy. Oz loved when you would describe how he felt in you, how you loved when he would fuck you- how you wanted him to cum in you. It turned him on. It turned him on how embarrassed you would feel most of the time he made you say those things.

You told him you wanted it inside and It wasn’t long before he started his fast pace again and you closed your eyes, trying not to moan as loud as you would like- fuck he felt so good. It mustn't have been long before you felt him slow down and the familiar feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you. You had to drink some water- your throat was hurting. Oz hugged you close to him and while one of his hands was rubbing your back he kissed your forehead- “You feeling better?”.

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Author's note: Bro you just fucked him AGAIN?

Finished there the story because I KNEW i would start writing a lot and I wanna finish part 2 in time for the finale. I'm sososos excited for it and sad it will end ugh. Anyways hope you enjoyed and thank you to all the people that wrote nice things to me regarding my writing, I've been having some health problems lately and your messages made me feel so much better, truly. Have a nice day :))))))

#oz cobb #the penguin #the penguin tv #oswald cobb x reader #oz cobb x reader #the penguin hbo #oswald cobblepot #the penguin x reader #oz cobblepot

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nanamineedstherapy · 22 days ago

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To Love & To Ruin - Chapter 4 - The Infinity of Idiocy (Ao3)

Teacher!Suguru Geto Vs Nanago

Previous Chapter 1 - In Orbit, but Falling (Tumblr/Ao3)

Previous Chapter 2 - Threading the Needle (Tumblr/Ao3)

Previous Chapter 3 - Cold Hands, Warm Lies (Tumblr/Ao3)

Notes:

Did I finish this chapter, or did it finish me? Had to rewrite it 'cause I wasn't vibing with it. First time juggling this many characters in one scene. (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)👌 This chapter’s been a whole journey—multiple rewrites, more chaotic characters, and now I’m just hoping it actually makes sense!

youtube

When Gojo teleported into the kitchen with a loud crash, the sound echoed as he landed squarely on the countertop, cracking a tile in the process. He winced, but quickly deposited the fruit bouquet he'd brought—a ridiculous explosion of colors and skewered pineapple stars—on it to hide the crack and bolted to his room to switch out of his "flour-covered civilian" look. In seconds, he returned to the alley, stocking up on instant ramen packs in every flavor for Kento’s "Cutemon" and his grumpy urchin. Gojo even winced at the extra-spicy ones. But hey, he'd risk it; those kids owed him for all the chaos.

Back at the house, he adjusted his posture with all the elegance he could muster, casually tossing a look over his shoulder. “Why are you here? Where’s Choso?” he asked, barely winded.

The answer came from Sukuna, who stood there leaning against the wall, pink hair sticking up in his usual devil-may-care way, smirking. “Prince Charming ditched for an impromptu getaway with his man.” He rolled his eyes, half-amused, half-disgusted.

"Typical," Gojo muttered, like he himself wouldn’t have run off at the opportunity with Kento. He turned to Megumi and Yuji, who were standing by the door, watching him with that uniquely skeptical "Gojo Sansei-is-hiding-something" look in their eyes. He tossed Megumi his house keys. “Get inside, will you?”

Megumi caught them but didn’t move, his gaze narrowing. "Why is there flour in your hair?”

Gojo froze, feeling the slight weight of flour that must’ve been hanging there like an embarrassing crown. “Uh... Bag broke on my head at the store. Totally had a hole in it.”

Megumi raised an eyebrow, still unconvinced, while Yuji scratched his head, utterly lost. “But aren’t you taller than the shelves, though?”

A deep snort came from Sukuna as he watched Gojo’s struggling excuse with barely contained laughter. Gojo shot him a look that said I will teleport you into the ocean .

“Not every time, Yuji,” Gojo deflected, waving them off. “Go on. Your uncle and I have boring adult stuff to talk about.”

The two boys exchanged dubious looks, but they headed inside, Yuji dragging along the ramen-filled shopping bag. As soon as they were out of earshot, Gojo used his Six Eyes to confirm their privacy.

He turned to Sukuna, his voice lowering. “Your overhyped chef never showed up last night. Even Ijichi couldn’t get in touch with them.”

Sukuna’s smirk faded as he processed the news. “I talked to them yesterday afternoon. After that? Radio silence. Word is, their mother’s gone missing. Something’s definitely off.”

Gojo’s expression hardened. “You’re not kidding. I’m being followed too.”

Sukuna’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing. “Who’d be stupid enough to go after us ?”

“As much as I hate it, we’ll need to talk to him .” Gojo’s voice carried a reluctant edge as he looked off into the distance.

Sukuna nodded, giving Gojo an unimpressed look, eyeing the still-visible dusting of flour in Gojo's hair. “But first, maybe you clean up that head of yours. I have standards, y’know. Can’t be seen with a human pastry.”

“Please. If my Six Eyes did dump me, I’d still be leagues above whatever sad dating disaster you’d come up with.” Gojo adjusted his jacket, his smirk every bit as smug as he could make it.

“Oh, I’m the disaster?” Sukuna grinned, pushing him back toward the door. “I don’t have to worry about my partner becoming collateral in a fight, unlike some people.”

Gojo’s glare was sharp, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “If your brother wasn’t busy being a teen dad, I can’t imagine how much bigger your ego would be.”

Sukuna’s smirk grew wider, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. “Always so easy to rile up, The Infinity of Idiocy .”

Sukuna, with his uncanny ability to perceive the intricacies of the human world, was aware of Gojo's clandestine meetings with Nanami. It wasn't through gossip or idle chatter; rather, it was a result of his own intrusive curiosity and a touch of sadistic amusement.

They arrived at Jujutsu High in a constant state of bickering, Sukuna looking as menacing as ever, and Gojo looking freshly showered-ready to announce his presence to the world.

As they stepped out, Gojo sighed, "Man, why do they make us come in on Saturdays? If I wanted to work Saturdays, I’d be a corporate drone. So unfair to the world’s strongest sorcerer."

Sukuna snorted, shoving the door open with a grumble. “Yeah, yeah, cry me a river, Snow Princess. If this was the Heian era—”

“Oh, here we go again, Hitler," Gojo cut him off. “Back in my day, I’d have conquered the higher-ups by now.' You’re like a jujutsu boomer.”

Sukuna shrugged, unbothered. “It’s called results , sweetheart.”

They crept down the halls, still bickering, with exaggerated stealth, checking for any signs of life, Gojo’s Six Eyes scanning every corner under his blindfold. They finally stopped outside an ominously locked cell with a heavy metal door, and Sukuna threw a smirk at Gojo.

“Alright, Genius, you sure about this? Because if this meathead decides to go full feral, he might end up deciding your head would look great on his wall.”

Gojo smirked, but inside his stomach churned. “That’s why we’ve got you, big guy, just keep him in line. Or, you know, in chains.”

They opened the door, revealing a cell that looked more like a high-end hotel suite. Sukuna swaggered in, plopping onto a plush, forest green velvet couch, looking down at Toji like he was inspecting some prehistoric fossil. Toji, meanwhile, was lounging on a cloud of Persian rug, sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup, his enormous hands cradling it like a queen at brunch, while engrossed in a survival reality show, on a TV that could probably power a small city. Simultaneously practicing his death glare. A true man of culture.

“Look who’s still breathing. Miss me, you washed-up henchman?" he sneered at the man chained to the floor. “Brought you a friend. Gojo, introduce yourself.”

"Yo, Meathead!" Gojo sauntered in, his grin wide and obnoxious as he held up a peace sign.

Toji looked up, deadpan, unamused, “Did you two idiots actually break in just to ruin my day?”

Gojo grinned, stepping in. “Aw, no ‘hello’? ‘Long time no see’? Gee, Fushiguro, I thought prison might soften you up.”

Sukuna, not missing a beat, yanked on the chain around Toji’s ankle hard enough to make him spill his tea. “That’s Mr. Trash to you, meathead. Watch your manners, Fushiguro. I’d hate to see what happens if you make our dear Satoru cry.”

Toji groaned, rolling his eyes. “Oh, wonderful, the circus is in town, Mr. Trash. What do you want?”

“Glad you’re catching on.” Gojo crossed his arms, plastering on a grin that was somehow even more insufferable than usual.

“Let’s cut to the chase. We need your help with a little… problem. Someone’s been keeping tabs on us, and as much as I love the attention, I think they are in for a rude awakening. Plus, you’re the best bloodhound we’ve got & it’s about time you earned your keep, seeing as how you’ve been mooching off our hospitality in here.”

Toji gave them a lazy smirk, lounging back. “Mooching? I’ve been living better than you clowns, with a sweet place, free food, and TV, all without having to work or spontaneously die on the job one day.” He paused, looking like he was contemplating. After all, there were only so many Discovery Channel shows he could watch before going complete Mowgli. Not that he was much better without Megumi's mom. “However, what’s in it for me? You know, besides this charming company?” He wanted a way to keep himself sharp.

“You get to live in this eternal confinement.” Sukuna laughed, menacing & dry, his hand flicking Toji’s chain. “You don’t? I toss your ashes to the crows with the ‘accidentally fed to cursed spirits’ clause. That sound good?”

Toji rolled his eyes. "You know, I’ve got a nice setup here, no insufferable loudmouths in a blindfold & bad tattos.”

Gojo’s grin was practically audible as he leaned down. “Aww, don’t say that. You’ll get plenty of me at the sister school exchange event. I might even let you sneak a peek Megumi. He’s gotten so tall.”

Toji’s eyes flashed with something close to interest for just a second, then settled back into his usual flat stare. “I would have settled for a PS5.” He was well aware of the fact that he probably wouldn’t be coming out of this situation until the two arrogant fools hovering in front of him in his high-security, luxurious flat/cell were alive, and honestly, he didn’t want to go back to his old miserable life anyway. Being a burden on his kid? No thanks. However, he did wish to see his son from afar; strictly no interactions. He was better off now without his deadbeat dad’s deadweight on his ankle. “But… Megumi, huh? He’s gotta be taller than you by now, Gojo. Letting him down early, are we?”

“Ah, says the guy who bailed on fatherhood,” Gojo replied smoothly, his smirk never faltering. "What, think you can just waltz back in and play Daddy of the Year?"

Toji rolled his eyes, shrugging. “Don’t have to. Kid’s my blood; survival runs in the genes.” He paused, putting the tea cup down cracking his knuckles looking like he was considering lunging at Gojo, which Gojo knew was just Toji’s way of showing love.

“Hold that thought!” Gojo interrupted, ruffling Toji’s hair just to be obnoxious. “Do anything funny, and I’ll make sure your ‘VIP’ status here comes with some… adjustments.”

Toji smirked, leaning back. "Sure, Snowflake Supreme. But tell me…you’ve gone soft, haven’t you? What’d you do—take up knitting?”

Sukuna snorted, crossing his arms. "Yeah, softened up real good. Tell him why, Satoru—though I doubt he's heard anything romantic in the past decade other than the soap operas.”

Gojo put a hand to his chest, feigning shock. “Guilty as charged, my husband's a catch.”

Toji froze. Sukuna asked, a mix of disbelief and annoyance in his voice. "Nanami? Married to you? Dude, that's wild! How'd you even pull that off? I've been trying to get a word in edgewise with that guy for years, and all I get is a glare, a lecture about societal norms & how I'm being a pervert. How'd you manage to convince him to put a ring on it? What kind of sorcery did you use?"

Toji let out a bark of laughter. "Nanami? The guy looks like he'd rather do paperwork than deal with you. Poor guy. Imagine being the one to sit through your 'romantic' dinners. He probably has to wear earplugs and a blindfold."

Gojo rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up, Toji. Nanami loves my romantic dinners. Especially the ones where I accidentally set the table on fire. He finds it incredibly charming.”

Sukuna wheezed. “Bet Nanami clocks out at five and immediately questions all his life choices. He’s probably regretting every single vow right now. Dude treats seeing you like it’s a mandatory meeting with the higher-ups.”

Gojo gave them both a smile that was anything but friendly. “Glad to see you two comedians are enjoying yourselves. Real original stuff here. Keep it up, though, and I might just introduce you to the kind of ‘amusements’ that only I can provide.” His voice dropped, chillingly calm.

Sukuna leaned in, looking too damn pleased with himself, and muttered, "Please, Satoru the Housewife. What do you even bring to that marriage?"

Toji grinned. “Probably forced him to be the little spoon, huh? Poor guy.”

Gojo’s grin froze. His eyes darkened, and he leaned in with a low, venomous voice. “You can insult me all you want but leave my husband out of it, or I’ll make this little field trip feel like a lifetime of therapy.” His voice was chillingly calm, but the underlying threat was clear.

Toji blinked, then grinned wider. “Oh? Touched a nerve, did we, Mrs. Nanami?”

Sukuna burst out laughing, practically rolling. “Yeah, c’mon, Satoru the Housewife, tell us more. Bet you two drink chamomile tea and read poetry before bed. Haikus, maybe?”

Gojo’s fingers twitched, his voice dangerous. “Laugh all you want. Nanami’s classier than anything you two could even comprehend. And he doesn’t need tea to put you down for the count.”

Toji smirked, arms crossed. “Right, so he has to knock you out to get some peace. Makes sense. Someone’s gotta keep you quiet.”

Sukuna fist-bumped Toji.

Gojo cracked his neck, his grin a little too wide. “Funny. Keep pushing, and you’ll find out exactly how soft I have gotten. Last I checked, neither of you is invincible.”

Sukuna’s smirk faltered for a split second before he forced it back. Toji looked unimpressed, but one eye was definitely on the door, in case Gojo lost his marbles.

Gojo wasn’t done. “And just so we’re clear, Nanami’s the only reason I haven’t lost my mind completely. So unless you’ve got something useful to add about the guy stalking him, keep your mouths shut.”

Toji raised his hands, that signature smirk back. “Alright, alright, we get it. Protective husband and all. Didn’t take you for the ‘love-struck puppy’ type, though.”

Gojo grinned right back, unfazed. “Yeah, Toji? That’s the difference between us. You’ve forgotten what love even looks like. But hey, keep at it.” He gave his ankel bracet a condescending pat. “Now, hop to it. Or I might just have to remind you both why I’m the strongest.”

Ignoring Gojo for the pressing matter at hand, Sukuna then crouched in front of Toji, locking eyes with that unhinged glint. “Here’s the deal, Fushiguro. You do this cleanly, quietly, and if you slip up? Let’s just say I’ll make your cozy cell here feel like a vacation.”

Toji scoffed, but his expression darkened a fraction. “Got it. Now if you’re done with the threats, I’ve got a job to do.”

Sukuna gave Toji a pat on the back, grinning like he’d just signed Toji up for the worst deal of his life, switching out his ball & chains with one ankel monitor infused with cursed energy. “You’re welcome, Fushiguro. Now, go on and start tracking down our stalker like a good boy. And remember, one slip, and it’s back to the dungeons.”

Toji rolled his eyes, testing the cursed ankle monitor like he might bolt just to annoy Sukuna, “Fine. But if I have to look at your smug face for one more second—”

Sukuna stepped closer. “One wrong move, and I’ll make sure you’re scrap metal for cursed spirits by tomorrow morning. Capisce?”

Unbothered, Toji nodded and walked out, tossing one last smirk over his shoulder. “Just keep your end of the bargain. And if I find out this little ankle accessory explodes, I’m coming back as a curse just to haunt you.”

As Toji walked out, Sukuna and Gojo lingered, watching him vanish down the hall. Gojo exhaled, muttering, “Think he’ll keep his end of the deal?”

Sukuna shrugged, unimpressed. “He better. If not, it’s no skin off my back; I’m perfectly happy throwing him back in a cell when he screws up. He’ll either find the guy tailing us or end up in a worse hell than this cell. Either way, we win.”

Gojo laughed as they started out, the two of them once again falling into their odd rhythm of insults and jokes.

Gojo killed Toji years ago. One clean, merciless final hit—that’s what he thought, anyway. Turns out Sukuna, fresh off some cursed conquest abroad, waltzed in post-mortem, cracked his knuckles, and decided to resurrect Toji just to have a literal “break glass in case of emergency” guy around. Gojo hated it, obviously. But Toji was disgustingly good at what he did, and no one could deny his effectiveness, not even Gojo.

So now, Toji was tucked away, hidden from the world, in a specially designed corner of Tengen’s barrier—like a high-security VIP area for the most problematic people imaginable.

Despite Sukuna being about as helpful as a live grenade most of the time, Gojo couldn't deny how clutch he was in moments that mattered. They had an odd, borderline masochistic friendship, defined mainly by flinging insults and engaging in elaborate, unspoken sabotage contests. For every joint mission, Gojo would casually interfere with Sukuna’s carefully laid traps, and Sukuna would “accidentally” mislead Gojo’s students into near-death situations during exchange events.

The respect? Oh, it was buried under layers of verbal abuse. Outsiders might think they were seconds away from ripping each other's heads off, but in reality, it was the only friendship either of them could actually stand. Afterall, there was no one they would rather insult the world with.

Their animosity predated Toji's influence, rooted in a deep-seated understanding of each other's strengths and weaknesses.

However, when Geto's absence cast a long shadow over Gojo's life, a subtle shift occurred in Sukuna's demeanor. The King of Curses, a creature of darkness and destruction, softened ever so slightly towards his younger counterpart. Well, as much as a cactus could anyway, a rare display of empathy from a being often consumed by chaos and cruelty.

Geto had warned him, sure. But Geto was always so preachy, always trying to control him. Who was he to tell Satoru what he could and couldn't do? And besides, Geto had left him high and dry, despite being there. Nanami was gone, off to become a mundane corporate slave. Shoko was busy faking her medical studies, a world away. Sukuna was the only one who stuck around; Gojo had no other options. It’s not like he’d hang out with Mei Mei.

On the quieter side of campus, Ijichi trudged toward Yaga's office, mumbling about his rare Saturday getting hijacked for work. He barely had time to react before he was yanked into a dimly lit room, clutching his clipboard for dear life. As his eyes adjusted to the single flickering bulb, he noticed two figures lurking in the shadows, watching him like he was the evening’s entertainment.

Gojo lounged lazily, that familiar smirk on his face, while Sukuna leaned forward, eyes glinting like a cat toying with a trapped mouse. Ijichi felt an immediate urge to bolt, but Gojo's gaze pinned him in place.

"Ah, Ijichi," Gojo purred, voice deceptively smooth. "Any idea why my important dinner with Nanami got... derailed?" His tone was light, but the glint in his eyes made the question feel like a threat.

Ijichi stammered, clutching his clipboard tighter. "Gojo-san, I swear! I double-checked everything! Confirmed it twice! There must’ve been a mix-up on the restaurant's end… or maybe…"

"Really?" Gojo's smile grew colder, his eyes narrowing. "So, the restaurant just vanished? On the very night I was supposed to meet Nanami there?"

Sukuna snorted, circling Ijichi with a predatory gleam. "The violinist was abducted by aliens too, huh? Poor Iji-cheese. Imagine Nanami’s face when he hears his evening was ruined because you didn’t bother to check."

Gojo chuckled, feigning sympathy. "Oh bureaucratic Babushka, think about Nanamin, you know he doesn’t handle… incompetence well."

Ijichi went paler, clutching his clipboard like a lifeline. "I... I could never! Nanami-san is—well, he’d be so…" His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “Disappointed.”

Sukuna leaned in, grinning like a cat that’d cornered its prey. "Exactly. Imagine him, giving you that ‘I’m surrounded by morons’ look. That little sigh of his." Sukuna savored Ijichi’s dawning horror. “You don’t want him thinking, ‘And here I thought Ijichi was dependable.’”

Ijichi swallowed, looking like he might faint. “N-No…”

Gojo gave Sukuna a half-amused glance. "Sukuna, maybe ease up a little on Anxiety Ambassador's... fragile psyche.”

Sukuna shrugged, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Tough love, Gojo. All good relationships are built on a foundation of mild terror.” He gave Ijichi a patronizing pat on the back. “It’s just our way of showing you how much we care."

Gojo’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he watched Ijichi squirm. “It’s alright, Paperwork Warlock. Just tell us the truth. Don’t worry about what’ll happen if you don’t. Although…” His voice dropped. “It could get… unpleasant.”

“I swear, Gojo-san, I did everything right!” Ijichi’s voice wavered. “Maybe… it was sabotage…”

Sukuna stepped closer, lowering himself until he was nearly eye-level with Ijichi, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “Oh, sabotage, huh? So Nanami’s meeting got ruined because you didn’t double-check. Imagine him standing there, wondering where his dinner with his Senior went.” Sukuna’s grin widened. “You don’t want him losing faith in you, right?”

Ijichi gulped, beads of sweat forming on his brow. “No! Gojo-san, I swear! I tried everything!”

Sukuna gave an exaggerated sigh, his tone laced with mock sympathy. "Imagine poor Nanami hearing about all your hard work… going to waste. You know how much he values… precision."

Ijichi nearly sobbed. “No! I-I would never—I mean… I’d never lie…”

Gojo’s smile twisted into something sharper. "So, you’re saying someone messed with my reservation. And you didn’t think I’d want to know about it?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’d hate to have to tell Nanami about this… oversight."

Ijichi’s eyes widened, shaking his head desperately. "No! Gojo-san, please! It was the restaurant—the last-minute cancellation was for a celebrity event. I swear!"

Gojo leaned forward, his tone a deadly whisper. “Do I look like someone who wants things kept from him, Captain Clipboard?”

Sukuna leaned back with a chuckle. “A celebrity event, huh? So instead of informing Gojo, you just… let Nanami wait around. Risking his vexation. Bold move, Iji-cheese.”

Ijichi’s face was ashen, his voice barely a whisper. “I'd never do that to N-Nanami-san…He's…kind…”

Gojo exchanged an amused glance with Sukuna. “Oh? You’re hiding something, aren’t you? Like a little… admiration?” His tone dripped with mock surprise, as if he’d just uncovered a juicy secret.

Sukuna cackled, dragging Ijichi along with him to stand, slapping Gojo’s shoulder. “Look at him, blushing like a schoolgirl. Poor guy’s one ‘Nanami’ away from cardiac arrest.”

Gojo barely contained his laughter, leaning back with his arms crossed. “Aw, My little File Goblin, when were you going to tell us about this little… crush? Don’t worry, your admiration for Nanami-kun is safe with us.”

Ijichi’s face turned scarlet, mouth opening and closing. “N-No! Nanami-san is… respectable, and… I mean, it’s not that I…”

Sukuna cut him off with a wicked grin. “Respectable, huh? Sure, just respect. What do you think, Gojo? Should we tell Nanami about his little admirer here?” He smirked as Ijichi looked on the verge of fainting.

Gojo snickered. “Relax, Iji. We won’t spill, because I think you’d confess to any crime just to avoid letting him down. Just… don’t mess up my plans again, alright?”

Ijichi, thoroughly defeated, gave a shaky nod. “I… I’ll remember that, Gojo-san. And Sukuna-san…” His eyes darted between them, still clutching his clipboard.

Gojo straightened, clapping him on the shoulder with exaggerated cheerfulness. “Good talk, Iji! Let’s keep the drama to a minimum next time, yeah?”

Ijichi looked ready to faint, practically begging, “Please, Satoru-san! I’ll make sure everything is perfect from now on! I’ll call twice—no, three times! I’ll even taste-test the food!”

"Let me know if you need help getting direct access to the kitchens," Sukuna added with a smirk. He was a true foodie—any chef worth their salt would be at his door within the hour if he so desired. The Itadori clan, the most influential force in these matters, owed all their current prestige to him. Not that he needed it; his techniques and the fear he commanded were more than enough. But somehow, the legacy was diluted—covering chefs couldn’t quite replicate the same flavors. The Itadori clan’s relevance had only emerged after his rebirth, each privilege and reputation a shadow of Sukuna's own forceful impact.

“Good,” Gojo replied, stifling a smirk. “Nanami’s not exactly forgiving when it comes to repeated ineptitude if you wish to get anywhere with him.” Although he was mentally kicking himself for saying it, he needed Ijichi's undivided loyalty.

Ijichi’s jaw dropped as he scrambled for words, while Gojo and Sukuna burst into laughter, leaving him floundering—so thoroughly humiliated that he didn't even think about the real nature of Gojo’s "important dinner" with Nanami.

As he quickly scrambled out, Sukuna gave Gojo an amused glance, his smirk wide. “You know, Gojo, I might actually start liking these little interrogations. He’s gonna be lying awake all night, haunted by the fact he failed your Spreadsheet Samurai.”

Gojo shrugged, looking completely unbothered. “Good. Builds character.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “But, seriously—you're okay with Juju Uber having a thing for Nanami?”

Gojo’s grin turned smug. “Why wouldn’t I be? Anyone with taste would be into him. Even you probably are,” he added, throwing a glance toward the door. “Though if Ijichi’s got any shot, he’s gonna have to toughen up & work on those nerves before he even thinks about getting within ten feet of my Nanamin.” Threat clear in his voice.

Sukuna snorted, shaking his head. “Please. Just because I’d rather not watch him suffer doesn’t mean I’m in love with the guy.”

“Uh-huh,” Gojo shot back with a smirk, giving Sukuna a knowing look. “Next time, maybe skip your pervert ways and just ask Nanami to dinner.”

“Right,” Sukuna deadpanned, smirking back. “I’m not 'the human Squeaky Toy'. Though watching you struggle to avoid peeing to mark territory around your precious grump was pure entertainment.”

They left the room together, their laughter echoing down the hall as Ijichi’s panicked footsteps faded into the distance.

That evening at the Gojo estate dawned deceptively serene, a stark contrast to the bedlam waiting to unfold within.

In the living room, Gojo lounged on the couch with the casual swagger of someone who owned not just the estate but also the egos within it. Beside him, Sukuna sat with one arm thown over the back of the couch, arms folded, his expression hovering between disdain and mild amusement as Yuji and Megumi sat across the room, eyeing the older sorcerers with thinly veiled curiosity.

Gojo tossed the PS5 into Yuji’s hands with a grin. “I present to you… the key to happiness. You can even play against some American kids and crush their spirits online.” He shot a glance at Sukuna. “Because some people don’t know how to spoil their kids.”

Sukuna smirked, a glint of annoyance in his eyes. "Oh, really, Satoru? A race to see who can ruin a kid's attention span faster? Because what the world really needs is less discipline and more screen time. Don't forget, Gojo, my gifts won't rot their brains." He casually handed Megumi a new katana, sharp and polished, ignoring Gojo's disapproving look. No one knew he'd stolen that katana from Toji's stash.

Yuji looked between the two gifts, brow furrowed. “Um… can we maybe have both?” he asked, shrinking slightly as both men turned to him.

Gojo pulled Yuji into a one-armed hug, throwing Sukuna a smug side-eye. “Of course you can, Yuji. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

Meanwhile, Megumi wasn’t even paying attention, too focused on examining the katana. He was already plotting how he might use it against Yuta-sensei in the Sister School Exchange event, if need be—assuming Gojo would stop wrangling Sukuna for more than five seconds to actually help him train.

Little did Megumi know, he was already carrying the genes of a swordsman legend—his father, still very much alive & technically undefeated (Gojo basically being a cheat code & all). Once killing even his reluctant honorary father/Sansei & he’d done it without using a single cursed technique.

Sukuna groaned. “Playing favorites already, Gojo? You’re the reason these kids are like this.”

“Like what? Thriving?” Gojo fired back, dramatically clutching his chest in faux-offense. He handed Yuji the remote. “Just don’t let Sukuna near this thing. He might get us banned then claim it’s ‘for your own good’—”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and let out a low chuckle. “Right. Because we’re all dying to learn from someone so…mentally balanced.”

“Mentally balanced?” Gojo quipped back. “We’re talking about the guy with actual evil spirits as body art.”

The two began bickering, their barbs growing sharper until Yuji, annoyed, lunged forward to smack Sukuna’s arm. Sukuna, with a smug grin, reached out and tugged at Yuji’s hair.

“Let go, you creep—I’ll tell dad. Let go, uncle!“ Yuji snapped, grabbing Sukuna’s forearm, but Sukuna only laughed, pulling him closer.

“Oh, I forgot how fragile you are, brat,” Sukuna sneered, dragging Yuji’s head down playfully.

Yuji let out an angry groan and dug his hands into Sukuna’s hair, and the two of them descended into a hair-pulling match, arms flying, half-shouts turning into low-key growls.

On the couch, Gojo plopped down with a bowl of popcorn, tossing a piece to Megumi, who caught it with an indifferent look. Gojo grinned. “You know, sometimes it’s just better to sit back and enjoy the show.”

Megumi, deadpan, threw a piece of popcorn back at him. “It’s honestly embarrassing how much you two act like…middle schoolers.” But he didn’t look away from the scene either.

Soon they all ordered takeout & played the PS5 together, with Yuji & Gumi falling asleep sooner than their guardians, who kept playing to break their tie.

The night ended with Sukuna begrudgingly crashing at the estate. Gojo didn’t press him on the “why”—they both knew that despite the rivalry, some unwelcome forces had been hovering around them. Sukuna’s vigilance wasn’t exactly altruistic, but for now, the strange sense of safety under Gojo’s roof kept him there.

On Sunday, Toge, Yuta, Panda, and Junpei showed up at the crack of Dawn.

Breakfast was less a meal and more a mini-event, with Gojo playfully dropping different types of cereal boxes in front of everyone, claiming each one had “extra power-boosting properties.” “This one,” he declared, holding up a box of brightly colored cereal, “will make you run faster. Guaranteed!”

Junpei, always ready to indulge in Gojo’s absurdities, leaned in with wide eyes. “So, if I eat this, I’ll be as fast as you?”

“Absolutely!” Gojo winked. “Just be prepared to run from your own sanity.”

Panda grinned, grabbing a box. “I’m just here for the marshmallows, honestly. Extra power-boosting, my fluffy backside!” He plopped down, starting an all out cereal war with Inumaki, who retaliated by launching a spoonful at Panda's face.

After a while, the kids decided on a training session in the garden.

Gojo clapped his hands together with mock seriousness. “Alright, kids! Today we’re doing… real combat training. Team bonding style!” He sent a smug look in Sukuna’s direction. “Don’t worry; I’ve got some truly intellectual exercises lined up.”

Sukuna sighed, muttering to Panda, “He’s going to make everyone fight in the mud or something; just watch.”

“Hey! It builds character,” Gojo called out, already ushering the group onto the sprawling lawn.

What followed was a morning full of chaotic relay races, mock battles, and competitive feats that somehow involved balancing bowls of water on their heads while avoiding Sukuna’s attempts to knock them off with air blasts. Junpei, trying to focus on keeping his balance, ended up drenched after Inumaki “accidentally” tripped him while laughing hysterically.

Yuta watched with wide-eyed laughter as Yuji easily outmaneuvered the others, while Megumi took advantage of the situation to summon some of his more chaotic shikigami, which resulted in more soaked uniforms and a few muddy wipeouts.

Panda, now fully immersed in the water-throwing antics, yelled, “At this rate, we’ll have an army of mud-covered sorcerers ready to conquer lunch!”

Junpei added, “And if they can’t defeat it, at least they’ll drown in it!”

“Just think of it as a training exercise for their allergies,” Yuta chimed in, chuckling.

“Or as a way to prepare them for the real battles,” Megumi added dryly, summoning a shikigami that immediately dove into the cereal pile.

Soon, it turned into a full-on Yuji-targeting fest, with him dodging every throw and body slam like he was Neo in The Matrix. Annoyed by his dodging skills, the crew decided to switch tactics. IInumaki activated his speech powers, ordering Yuji to sit on his ass while the others bombarded him with mud cakes. Yuji flopped dramatically, pretending to be a soldier dying in the arms of his "gay best friend/fellow soldier who totally isn’t also in love with him" in some cringe-worthy World War flick. He let out exaggerated gasps, clutching his heart like he was in a soap opera. “Tell her I loved her!” he cried, throwing mud into the air. “It’s mud! It’s always been mud!” he wailed, fully committed to the role.

Gojo looked over at Sukuna, both of them leaning against a tree, overseeing the mayhem with an almost parental pride. Sukuna rolled his eyes, smirking at Gojo. “You realize you’re turning these brats into mini-versions of us, right?”

“Exactly the point,” Gojo grinned. “The next gen of chaos. It’s like reliving our glorious student days—cheotic, loud, and unhinged.”

“Yeah, but at least we had the sense not to throw food at each other… most of the time,” Sukuna mused, nostalgia creeping into his voice.

“Speak for yourself! I distinctly remember a certain 'noodles on the ceiling' incident,” Gojo teased, laughing as the memory flooded back.

The laughter echoed across the lawn, proving that no matter the chaos, they were all in this together.

As dusk settled over the Gojo estate, the garden was a tangle of blankets, cushions, and the soft glow of string lights twinkling overhead. A projector hummed in the corner, ready to beam horror movies across the lawn. Not that anyone seemed particularly excited for scares.

Kashimo sauntered in, fresh from a mission, dragging a reluctant Hakari along. Behind them, Kirara, Nobara, Maki, and Todo arrived with the energy of a mildly chaotic army. Todo’s first move? A booming call to Yuji, who was actively hiding behind Yuta, curled up like a frightened kitten. Yuta rolled his eyes, doing his best to shield Yuji from Todo's onslaught.

“Yuji, no one’s getting sacrificed to the horror gods,” Yuta laughed, though it was drowned out by Todo’s roar of a laugh.

“Are we sure about that?” Yuji countered, eyes fixed on Maki and Nobara, who were rigging up a questionable-looking catapult from blankets and cushions.

“We’re supposed to be setting up, not recreating Lord of the Flies!” Megumi scolded, arms crossed like the world’s most unimpressed camp counselor, but his voice was lost in the argument already brewing between Todo and Hakari over the *best* horror movie tropes. Kirara, meanwhile, was balancing frogs in a dangerous pyramid, unconcerned with the fray.

“Who thought this was a good idea, letting us choose?” Toge signed, raising an eyebrow.

“Probably Gojo,” Junpei muttered, settling onto a cushion with a smirk as Nobara launched a cushion at Kashimo, only for Maki to tackle him seconds later. “He loves a spectacle.”

“Speaking of Gojo, where is he?” Panda asked, sniffing the air like a pizza radar.

“Just inside, grabbing the food,” Yuta replied.

A few minutes later, Gojo made his grand entrance, flanked by Sukuna and Kashimo, both hauling boxes of pizza, soda, and mochi. “All right, you little chaos gremlins! Who’s ready for the ultimate movie night?” he announced, setting down the food with a flourish—toppings sliding in several unfortunate directions as everyone gasped.

“Pizza time!” he declared, chucking slices and cans of soda into the crowd with wild enthusiasm. It was like a food fight, but with more “catch-or-suffer” stakes.

Megumi, wiping pizza sauce off his face, scowled. “Can you please learn how to throw, Gojo?”

“Relax, Megumi! It’s all part of the experience!” Gojo beamed, while Yuji grabbed a box of mochi only to freeze as Sukuna appeared, giving him an eyebrow raise of legendary judgment.

Soon, a debate over movie selection erupted. Nobara shouted, “I’m picking first!” but Todo was already fashioning a cape out of a blanket. “I declare a movie showdown!” he roared, puffing up like a gym leader about to pick his Pokémon.

And with that, the brawl was on. Maki, Todo, and Nobara formed a pact, while the rest—Megumi, Yuta, Junpei, and Yuji—cowered under a table. Inumaki, ever the instigator, jumped between teams, yelling out confusing rice ball ingredients to throw everyone off. Panda, unconcerned, just munched on mochi.

Eventually, after a vicious pillow-throwing melee, Nobara stood victorious, arms crossed smugly. “Told you it was my turn!” she gloated.

Just then, Gojo’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, his expression shifting. “Oh no, it’s Yorozu,” he groaned.

“Who?” Kashimo asked, mouth full of pizza.

“Sukuna’s… uh… number one fan. She’s...intense,” Gojo explained, rolling his eyes as Sukuna looked up, visibly annoyed.

“Oh great, she’s convinced I’m here,” Sukuna muttered, eyes narrowing. “Not interested in her yandere thing, thanks.”

Gojo’s phone buzzed again, and Sukuna shot him a desperate look. “I’ll pay you $100,” he muttered, reluctantly handing over the cash. Gojo smirked and picked up the call.

“Hey, Yorozu! Listen, Sukuna’s still, uh… away. Try again later?” Gojo said, crossing his fingers.

“No way! I’m on my way!” Yorozu announced with zeal, already hanging up.

“Crap. Sukuna, get to the basement. Now,” Gojo hissed, urgency in his voice.

Sukuna looked like he’d rather eat nails but bolted anyway. “This is absurd,” he muttered.

“Kashimo!” Gojo called, yanking him to his feet. “Distract her! Flirt, take her for ice cream, whatever; just keep her busy!”

Kashimo laughed, almost chocking, swolling his pizza. “You don’t have to ask me twice!”

Minutes later, Yorozu appeared, eyes scanning the scene for Sukuna. “Gojo! Where’s my beloved ‘Kuna?”

Gojo cringed at the nickname but was awfully suspicious of how near she was to arrive so fast. “Uh, on a mission, actually. You know how he is, with his missions mostly abroad!”

But Kashimo stepped forward with a charming smile. “Yorozu, right? Hi, I'm Kashimo; I was supposed to be Sukuna's vessel. Gojo mentioned you. Maybe we’ve met before?” He rubbed the back of his neck, practically radiating cool.

Yorozu’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. It's not like Sukuna cared. “I do get that vibe.”

“Ice Cream Sundae?” Kashimo asked as she nodded. Looking back at Gojo with a victorious grin. “All under control,” he mouthed, winking as he led her off into the night.

After they left, Gojo returned to the group, who had paused their squabbles long enough to eavesdrop. “Think she’ll buy it?” Yuji asked.

Gojo shrugged. “One can only hope.”

Meanwhile, Sukuna had re-emerged from the basement, grumbling about the last mochi piece, just as Yuji shouted, “Hey! Who wants the last mochi?”

Suddenly, Gojo and Sukuna stood in a ridiculous standoff, eyes narrowed. “You can’t just take the last piece!” Gojo whined, summoning purple energy.

“Boomer,” Sukuna sneered, summoning fire as the kids collectively groaned at Sukuna trying to sound hip.

“Dinosaur!” Gojo shot back. The crowd snickered.

“Your dad’s a virgin; I ate in the womb!” Sukuna quipped at his own nephew rooting for Gojo, leaving everyone gasping, except Yuji, who looked horrified. “Not cool!” Yuji yelled, launching himself at Sukuna with Todo right behind, sparking an all-out, cartoonish brawl while Inumaki stole the last piece.

Hours later, they all sprawled on the blankets, surrounded by pizza crumbs and soda cans, watching a goofy horror movie Yuji and Todo had picked. Exhausted, they began to drift off one by one, wrapped in thick blankets and their partner’s warmth.

Gojo glanced at the sleepy pile of kids, smirking as he threw an extra layer of blankets over them, then headed over to where Sukuna sat, strangely quiet.

“Remind you of old times?” Gojo asked, plopping down next to him.

Sukuna chuckled. “Only the good parts.”

“Yeah,” Gojo agreed, a rare note of softness in his voice. They sat in companionable silence, letting the night settle around them, the chaos finally giving way to a shared nostalgia that neither would ever admit.

And for the first time, Sukuna thought this ragtag family of sorcerers wasn’t so bad after all.

Later that night, Sukuna sensed a presence & peered closer, then rolled his eyes.

He spotted Toji. Squatting. In the bushes. Literally trying to sneak a peek at his own kid. With an exaggerated sigh, Sukuna kicked him over, “Oh, for… Toji, you absolute idiot. Are you actually hiding in the bushes right now?”

Toji raised an eyebrow, utterly unbothered. “Just checking on my kid.”

Sukuna grabbed Toji by the collar, dragging him to the estate’s gate. “We have this thing called a deal, Toji. And last I checked, this stalking behavior isn’t part of it.”

“What, worried I’ll ruin your friendship with Satoru~?” Toji sneered, hands shoved in his pockets.

Sukuna kicked him out with another kick to his rear and muttered, “For everyone’s sake, stick to your part. Or I’ll make sure sneaking around is the last thing you ever do.”

Not that Toji went quietly—oh no. The two of them exchanged enough insults to make the bushes wilt, and only after Sukuna got the last word (and maybe another kick) did he finally stomp back inside.

On the other side of town, Nanami watered his perfectly aligned row of plants with his usual precision, the calming rhythm of the night broken only by Ino’s latest dilemma: finding a tailor.

“I already gave you my tailor’s contact, Ino. Just mention my name, and she’ll handle the rest,” Nanami replied with practiced patience. “She’s patient enough to handle new clients, even ones like… well, you.”

Ino’s laugh came nervously over the line. “Thanks, Nanami-san. I just really want to make a good impression, you know? Living up to the whole grade one thing.” The excitement in his voice was only half-covered by what sounded like mild panic.

Nanami sighed, glancing over at his own row of neatly pressed suits. “Not that I’m questioning your judgment, but why do you think you need suits? Your…fighting style’s a bit too… enthusiastic for tailored clothing, isn’t it?”

Ino paused. “It’s not just about the suit,” he said, voice quiet. “I want people to take me seriously. You know, look like I’m finally an adult sorcerer.”

Nanami paused, almost amused, and for a brief moment, he imagined Ino in one of his well-fitted, tailored suits — stumbling after a cursed spirit and trying to keep his jacket intact. He hid a smirk. “Fine, just don’t go putting me on a pedestal. The suit doesn’t make the sorcerer; it’s about your work. Besides…” He paused, lowering his voice, slightly teasing. “Your partner may prefer you without a suit. Less formal, less… restrictive.”

Ino laughed, attempting (and failing) to sound casual. “I’m just trying to be professional, Nanami-san. Nothing to do with… anyone else.”

“Of course.” Nanami’s deadpan tone left no room for further denial.

Before Ino could dig himself any deeper, Nanami’s phone chimed with another incoming call. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the ceremony,” he said. “And Ino? Don’t go overboard. Keep yourself—and your partner—safe.”

Ino’s reply was overly cheerful, a bit nervous. “Will do, Nanami-san! See you tomorrow!”

The moment the call ended, Yaga’s voice boomed through the phone. “Gojo and Sukuna aren’t answering their phones. Where are they?”

Nanami, unfazed, replied calmly, “Likely playing weekend parent. Gojo and Sukuna have an… unorthodox custody arrangement over Itadori and Fushiguro.”

Yaga sighed, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Just find them and make sure they don’t miss tomorrow’s meeting, Nanami.”

“Yes, sir.” He spoke with a sigh.

As Nanami slipped his phone into his pocket, glancing out at the quiet night sky, the stillness felt almost out of place, a stark contrast to whatever chaos Gojo was brewing up on the other side of town. With him and Sukuna in the mix, anything was possible—and judging by Yaga’s tone, it was probably nothing good.

After a last look at his neatly arranged plants, Nanami turned off the lights and headed to bed. Alone.

Gojo wasn’t coming over tonight. No surprise there; the kids were probably sprawled all over his living room by now, and Megumi—his self-appointed curfew enforcer—would never tolerate any late-night teleporting. Megumi had nearly caught Gojo sneaking over once, forcing Gojo to mumble some half-baked excuse about sleepwalking, a claim that Megumi met with an epic raised eyebrow and a “do-you-think-I’m-stupid” stare.

Nanami settled into bed, picking up his phone to fire off a quick text to Gojo and Sukuna about tomorrow’s impromptu meeting. Then he opened Yuji’s private Instagram, scrolling until a new video caught his eye.

There it was: Gojo, mid-chaos, looking less like the world’s strongest sorcerer and more like an underpaid babysitter facing down a roomful of very determined kids. Gojo sat on the floor, hair a total mess, his expression caught somewhere between shock and betrayal.

Front and center, Megumi had both hands rooted in Gojo’s hair, tugging with all the focus of someone finally getting his revenge. “You’re supposed to be the strongest, right?” he taunted, giving Gojo’s hair a not-so-gentle yank. “What happened to Infinity now, huh?”

“Megumi!” Gojo yelped, flailing helplessly. “Ow—this is… absolutely child abuse! Where’s HR?”

Off to the side, Sukuna reclined with a bowl of popcorn, looking far too pleased. “Infinity can’t save you now, Princess,” he snickered, flicking a popcorn kernel that bounced right off Gojo’s forehead. “Never thought I’d see the day you’d go down this easily.”

Yuji, Yuta & Junpei, caught in the crossfire, hovered nearby, clearly debating whether to intervene. Yuji reached out, trying to gently pry Megumi’s hands off Gojo’s hair. “Uh, Megumi? I think he… gets it? Gojo-sensei’s… been through enough?”

Junpei was half-shielding Gojo from another popcorn assault as he pleaded, “Megumi, seriously. We don’t want you to, like, vanish under mysterious circumstances…”

But Megumi just tightened his grip, thoroughly unbothered. “He can teleport. He’ll be fine.”

From the sidelines, Toge & Panda were egging Megumi on with a casual “Shake!”—and Megumi smirked, giving Gojo’s head a dramatic shake that sent another round of laughter through the room.

“Alright, alright, enough with the hair!” Gojo gasped, trying to salvage what was left of his dignity. “I’ll—I’ll give everyone a day off next week. Deal?”

Megumi finally let go, looking completely unimpressed. “Only a day?”

Before Gojo could protest, another popcorn kernel hit him square on the nose—courtesy of Sukuna, who grinned. “Make it two days, and maybe the kid’ll let you keep your hair.”

Yuji sighed, resigned, as he watched Gojo attempt to straighten out his hair while Megumi dusted his hands off with a smug smile. Just another day with Team Gojo.

Then Kento scrolled further & snorted as he found a picture of Gojo & Sukuna with eleven pigtails & dicks each drawn on their faces.

It was a bittersweet reminder of the joy and chaos Satoru always brought into their lives. Nanami couldn’t help but smile, a pang of longing tugging at his chest. There was no one else who could make the ordinary feel so alive.

He let his eyes linger on the video, the feeling lingering heavy and warm. With a sigh, he tapped the screen off and rolled over, pressing his face into his pillow, trying not to think too much about what Gojo might be up to right now.

Notes:

This would be my version of Jujutsu Kaisen if Gege had been hugged as a child… sniffles ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ ♥ I know this chapter didn't have Suguwu but I promise the plot will progress a lot faster in the next chapters, see this like the silence before the storm 😏 What do you think Suguru is upto? ٩(˘◡˘)۶

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Next Chapter 5 - Frayed at the Edges (Tumblr/Ao3)

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