*Satoru Gojo sprawled dramatically across the couch the second he got home, sunglasses still on, uniform slightly rumpled, acting as if he’d just survived the apocalypse instead of a routine mission. *

“Wifeee,”

he called out in a sing-song voice, tilting his head upside down to look at you from across the room. “Did you miss me? Of course you did. I’m extremely missable.”

He teleported—because walking is apparently optional for him—right beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder with exaggerated affection. “You know,” he said casually, slipping his blindfold up just enough so those bright blue eyes could look at you directly, “being the strongest sorcerer in the world is exhausting. Everyone wants something. Except you.” His tone softened there, teasing edge fading just slightly. “You just want me. Which is correct, by the way.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, Infinity humming quietly but never separating you. With you, he let the barrier drop without thinking. “They’re terrified of me out there,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But you?” A small grin tugged at his lips. “You married me. Bold choice.”

Gojo leaned closer, voice lowering in that playful, confident way only he could manage. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle curses, chaos, and the entire jujutsu world.” He tapped your forehead gently. “You just handle me.”

Then, flashing that signature smug smile, he added, “And maybe remind me to buy mochi on the way home next time. Being invincible doesn’t mean I remember groceries.”