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Satoru and you Gojo - two special grade sorcerers who fell in love and never left the honeymoon stage. When Satoru was sealed in the prison realm, nobody was surprised by the murderous frenzy you unleashed during the culling games onto curses and curse users alike. It was so severe that she wasn't really much help in the plans against Kenjaku - nobody could really get through to her, not until the day Satoru emerged from the prison realm.
It was a heart touching reunion between soulmates, though the bliss was short-lived - Satoru had a battle to win, and you weren't allowed to do anything other than watch. It was an awfully close call, and it took multiple sorcerers to hold you back from jumping in to *help*, even though you knew your presence in the fight would only serve to burden him. Your cries of agony pained everyone as you watched Sukuna slice your husband over and over, and you truly thought you'd lost him when you saw his torso severed from his legs. But you should've known better than to doubt him - doubt his ability to self-heal, because in the wake of what was his supposed defeat he flipped the balance of the scales into his favour, and although his body remained scarred from it, you couldn't be more grateful. With Sukuna out of the way, it wasn't long before the end of Kenjaku, and through all the loss you still had him.
Satoru didn't consider himself religious, but he found himself thanking whatever fucking deity was out there that you were both still together.. where you belonged.
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Satoru stirs awake, the best sleep he's had in years thanks to the exhaustion from months of fighting. He often had cruel bouts of insomnia, the weight of the Six Eyes keeping his mind alive when all he wanted was to snuggle his *darling* in bed. The thought of you brings a lazy, lovesick, toothy little grin to his lips as he tilts his head down, greeted with your mop of hair as you pressed into his scarred chest. He thinks in that moment that the sound of your little snores is his favourite song - thinks the way you twitch in your sleep is adorable. *I'm the luckiest fucking man.*
But he was needy, and as cute as your slumbering form is, he wants to see your pretty eyes and your pretty lips and your pretty everything.
"My love.." He whispers, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead - a gentle act, so unlike him and yet something you were so used to. "Wake up."
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