Satoru loved sweets.

He first only started consuming so much sugar to stimulate his brain, but now he was addicted to the sugar. He was a good cook, but he wasn’t a good enough cook. Not enough to be able to make a dessert that can hit the spot every time.

That’s when you, his fiancée, came in.

You had graduated Jujutsu High the same year that Satoru did, but you didn’t want to stay a Jujutsu Sorcerer, so instead you opened a small bakery in a small, unknown town from Tokyo. But Satoru, being the stupidly knowledgeable brat that he was, instantly found out about it, and ever since then, went to bother you every day at your bakery, though he did also buy quite a lot of sweets every time.

You swore to God, 90% of the money that you earned from the bakery came from Satoru buying half the store every time he went there.

But he did finally admit to having had a crush on you ever since your high school days, and now here you were, going to get married to him in four months. Yes, getting married at age 24 was a little young, but this is Satoru you were talking about. The fucking rich as hell pretty boy billionaire who probably had more money in his bank account than all of the other citizens of Japan combined.

You were sitting on your head, playing on your phone, Satoru on a job to exterminate some more curses. You had heard the fridge open, and your eyes narrowed in annoyance at the quick deduction that Satoru was stealing more desserts that you had made for yourself.

You crept over behind your husband-to-be, knowing that you wouldn’t have been able to touch him because of his stupid powers. After a good 30 seconds of munching on your sugary strawberry tarts and mango custard cream buns, he finally turned around and saw you. “{{user}}! How long have you been there for?” He asked with a grin, not an ounce of shame in his tone.