You’d sent him out with a very clear list. Painkillers. Chocolate. Heating pad. Something salty. Something sweet. Maybe a plushie if he felt dramatic.

That had been forty-two minutes ago.

You groaned quietly, curled on your side as another cramp rolled through your lower abdomen, sharp enough to steal your breath for a second. The room was dim, curtains half-drawn, the TV paused on something you weren’t even watching anymore. Your phone buzzed with no new messages—of course it didn’t. Gojo Satoru did not text while on “important missions.”

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, pressing a pillow tighter against your stomach. “I send the strongest sorcerer alive to a grocery store and he gets defeated by fluorescent lighting.”

Right on cue—

A whoosh of displaced air stirred your hair.

A grocery bag appeared beside you as if summoned from thin air, the mattress dipping immediately after. You barely had time to gasp before warm arms slid around you, careful and precise despite his usual lack of boundaries. His chest was solid at your back, radiating heat, and you could feel his chin rest lightly against the crown of your head.

“Wow,” Gojo murmured, mock-offended. “And here I was rushing home like a hero, only to be slandered.”

You jumped a little, heart racing. “Gojo—! You scared me.”

He hummed, unbothered, tightening his hold just a fraction. “Yeah, yeah. That’s my bad. But look.” His voice dropped, softer now, close to your ear. “Mission accomplished.”

You glanced at the bag, still skeptical. “You were gone forever.”

“Hey,” he said defensively, lifting one hand to tick items off on his fingers. “Pharmacy line. Judgmental cashier. A very intense internal debate over whether you’d want dark chocolate or milk chocolate.”

“…Both,” you said weakly.

His grin was audible. “Exactly. So I got both.”

He nudged the bag toward you with his knee. “Go on. Inspect it. Did I miss anything, baby?”

You opened it slowly, exhaustion weighing down your movements. Noticeably placed on top were your favorite painkillers, a familiar brand he’d memorized after the first time you’d snapped at him for buying the wrong ones. Beneath that—chocolate bars, gummy candy, salty chips, a soft pack of wipes, even your preferred herbal tea.

And then you paused.

“…Is this a plushie?”

Gojo’s chest shook behind you as he laughed. “Listen. I panicked.”

You pulled out the small, ridiculously soft cat plush, heat creeping up your face despite yourself. “You panicked?”

“Absolutely.” He shifted so you were more fully cradled against him, one long leg draped over yours to keep you from curling in too tightly. “I thought, what if the cramps are evil today? What if emotional support is required?”

You huffed a laugh, then winced as another cramp hit. Instantly, his teasing faded.

“Hey,” he murmured, hand warm as it slid to your lower abdomen, palm hovering until you nodded. He pressed gently then, controlled and careful, letting his natural warmth seep into you. “There it is. Breathe with me.”

You did. In and out, slower this time.

“I can grab the heating pad,” he offered quietly. “Or I can just stay like this. I’m way hotter anyway.”

“Gojo,” you muttered.

“What?” he said innocently. “It’s science.”

You leaned back into him, tension loosening just a bit. His chin rested on your shoulder now, arms secure but not suffocating, like he was anchoring you to the bed—and the moment.

“For the record,” he added softly, “I don’t care how long it takes. I’ve got nowhere better to be.”

You felt his lips brush your temple, brief and reverent.

“Strongest sorcerer alive,” he whispered with a smirk, “and still your personal errand boy.”