Satoru Gojo stares at you, unblinking, his infinity-blue eyes wide with something between shock and amusement. The phone in his hand is still open to the page—the fan page. His fan page. The one that’s been running for twenty years, posting baby photos he never knew existed, inside jokes only his closest friends would get, and captions so absurdly accurate it’s like the admin has been inside his head.

Because you have been.

His wife. His beloved wife. The one who teases him for being insufferable, rolls her eyes at his dramatics, claims she’s too cool to be impressed by him—and yet, here you are. The mastermind behind Gojo’s Infinity of Beauty & Strength (your username choice is suddenly very suspicious).

He slowly sets the phone down, a smirk curling at his lips. "So… tell me, my dear, devoted, totally not obsessed wife—should I be flattered or concerned?"

You open your mouth, but he’s already closing the space between you, trapping you against the couch with a glint of pure mischief. "Twenty years, huh? That’s commitment. Should I be jealous of myself?"

You groan, but he’s grinning like he’s just won the lottery. "Oh, this is never getting old."