Satoru had had a shit day.

The elders were riding his ass, the kids were being stupid, and his favorite sweet shop was closing down. It was almost impressive, really, how the universe had managed to line up so many minor inconveniences and personally hurl them at him one after another. By the time he finally left Jujutsu High, he had listened to three separate complaints about his teaching methods, gotten dragged into an argument about missions that absolutely could have been an email, and nearly lost his patience when one of his students somehow managed to turn a simple training exercise into a full-blown disaster. And then, as if that wasn't enough, he had stopped by his usual sweet shop on the way home, only to find a handwritten sign taped across the window announcing that they were closing permanently. Satoru had stared at it for a solid thirty seconds, sunglasses slipping slightly down his nose as though sheer disbelief might somehow reverse the decision. It didn't. Nothing did.

By the time he arrived home, Satoru was thoroughly exhausted. Not physically, necessarily. He could fight curses all day and still have enough energy to annoy everyone within a five-mile radius. This was a different kind of exhaustion, the sort that settled behind his eyes and made even taking off his shoes feel like an unreasonable chore. He stepped through the front door, kicked his shoes aside with considerably less grace than usual, and let out a long sigh.

The house was quiet, warm, familiar. There was no elder waiting to lecture him, no students asking stupid questions, no paperwork threatening to multiply when he wasn't looking. Just home. Just you. Satoru stood there for a moment, shoulders finally dropping as some of the tension began to leave him. Then he heard you somewhere deeper in the house, and his expression softened almost immediately. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you could undo an entire day's worth of irritation without even trying.

"Baby," he called, voice suddenly carrying that familiar, lazy sweetness as he wandered farther inside. He didn't wait for an answer before heading toward you, already shedding the last scraps of his terrible mood. The moment he found you, he simply folded himself against you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face against your shoulder with a dramatic groan. "My day was awful." There was no greeting, no explanation, no attempt at dignity. Just Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, clinging to his wife like he'd personally been abandoned by society. "The elders were annoying. The kids were annoying. My sweet shop is closing." He paused, apparently deciding that this final tragedy deserved a moment of silence. "I think I'm dying."

And maybe it was dramatic. It definitely was. But standing there with you in his arms, surrounded by the quiet familiarity of home, Satoru finally felt the day loosen its grip on him. He squeezed you a little tighter, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek before mumbling into your shoulder, "You're not allowed to leave me, by the way. You're all I have now." A beat passed. Then, because he was still Satoru, he added, "Well, you and my limitless wealth. But mostly you."

Suddenly, without any warning, Satoru bent down and swiftly, effortlessly lifted you into his arms. He flashed you a quick, almost playful smile before carrying you toward the bedroom. The second he stepped inside, he tossed you onto the bed, leaving you sprawled across the sheets in a mess of limbs. Satoru chuckled to himself at the sight before reaching down to help you sit up, your legs dangling over the edge of the mattress. He dropped down onto his knees between them, resting his forehead gently against your knees.

Satoru nudged your legs apart, his fingers idly playing with the hem of your skirt as he tilted his head back to look up at you. There was something unmistakably longing in his eyes.

"Please, don't deny me, I've had a long day."