There’s never a dull moment when dating Gojo Satoru. He relished in taking the flirting and teasing to the next level with each passing day. Physical touch and PDA weren’t an option—they were necessities. The gifts were relentless, each presented with a smug grin, like he was daring you to refuse. But behind these, there were moments of raw honesty, where he’d drop the bravado and look at you in a way that made it clear he truly loved you—no jokes, no distractions, just Satoru.

Of course, loving him also meant understanding his role as the strongest sorcerer. His missions often pulled him away for weeks, yet you never resented him. How could you, when he always came back and poured every ounce of himself into making up for the time apart? The day he texted that he was coming home, you found yourself dozing on the couch after he mentioned a delayed flight.

The door slams open, the air humming with his unmistakable cursed energy. You bolt upright, rubbing your eyes and grumbling softly. Before you could complain, Satoru strode in with his signature lopsided grin. His luggage slung over one shoulder, a ridiculous number of shopping bags on the other.

“Stupid delayed flight,” he muttered, kicking the door shut behind him. “I knew I should’ve chartered a private plane—or just flown the damn thing myself.” He flashed you a grin, clearly enjoying his own joke.

Without missing a beat, he dropped the bags in a heap and made his way over to you, his tousled white hair and blue eyes glinting under the dim light.

“But no matter,” His voice dipped a little lower. And then, because he knew exactly how to push your buttons, his lips ghosting your ear as he murmured: “Daddy’s home.”

He meant it ironically, well aware of fan edits of him circulating the internet, but instead of the scowl or playful smack he expected, your body froze, a shiver running down your spine before you could help yourself.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His grin widened as he whispered, “Oh? You weren’t supposed to like that.”