summary : being the center of gojo satoru's devotion can be exhausting. but what if the one satoru truly wants is one of the higher up's pretty wife? (news flash, he doesn't really care if you're married)
content: yearning, gojo is v desperate for you, possessiveness, cheating (yea girl you're cheating), secret kisses, forbidden love (very small fic)
"gojo sama. what if someone sees-"
he quickly cut you off with a desperate kiss. his hands grabbing your waist tightly pulling you close until there was no space left between both bodies.
cheeks flushed with a bright blush blooming across your cheeks, you tried to peek past his shoulder and in response he pushed you against the wall.
where were you guys again?
oh. that's right. you both were feverishly making out like teenagers in one of the many extravagant hallways of the gojo estate.
"i told you, its satoru" he said as he bit your lower lip.
you looked up at him, staring at his cerulean eyes before forcing yourself out of this delusion. this could not go on, this was highly inappropriate. to imagine that someone found out that the strongest sorcerer of modern age was desperately kissing one of the higher up's wife would be far more scandalous than anything.
but then again, how could satoru not. how could he not notice you, especially with his six eyes. he still remembers the day he first saw you.
he had heard that one of the senior higher ups had remarried again, and he had chosen someone who has about 20 years younger than him. and of course, you didn't really have a choice. your family was one of the sorcerer families on the lower hierarchy so you did not have much of a say. matter of fact, your parents were delighted that you would be married to someone who was of such a high ranking in the jujutsu world. but then again, no one had a higher rank than gojo satoru himself.
and there you were, sitting in a soft baby pink kimono, your hair in a pretty bun with small dianthus flowers adorning around it. you were surprisingly sitting in the meeting room, (the presence of a woman wasn't something that the elders ever wanted yet on that day, he guessed you were an exception). you sat with all the other elders around you, right beside your husband who sat beside satoru, while he sat at the head of the table since he was the heir of the gojo clan. your gaze fixed to the ground shifted to meet his eyes. you tried not to gasp, seeing the gojo satoru for the first time. back then you didn't know that man would be the one feverishly giving you kisses and begging you to give him five more minutes.
you remembered how his eye twitched when your so called husband joked that the reason he brought you here was to show off his pretty new wife who was just too cute not to brag about. that's what you were reduced to back then, just a pretty object for men to ogle and dream about.
while satoru did agree that you were pretty, and by that he means you means you looked achingly pretty to him. your soft gaze and smiles made him yearn for you. how he wished that he found you before that old fuck did.
after fleeting glances around the gojo estate where you could sometimes go to, he finally found you alone. in your own home, or technically your husband's. he knew your husband wasn't home, purposely sending him to a meeting somewhere far away so he could get a moment alone with you under the disguise that he initially came to meet your husband.
and of course, none of the servants would dare stop satoru as they left him alone with you at the garden. he remembered just how beautiful you looked, wearing a kimono that matched the shades of his eyes. you were tending the flowers and he watched you intently before actually noticing him and bowing down in respect. and to your shock, he bowed down as well. in fact, his head hung far lower than yours, showing you the absolute respect. you were surprised, really. you had never seen gojo bow his head down to anyone, not even your husband who was significantly older and never to any of the elders. yet, the strongest bowed down in respect only for you.
you guess, thats where it started from.
and here you were. everything felt like a fever dream. and those forbidden kisses were so addictive.
you murmured his name weakly against his passionate kisses.
"satoru, this isnt right.. mhmmmm-"
he broke the kiss and stared right at you, his forehead against yours. he was still in his black uniform, his blindfold pushed up to reveal his eyes that you adored so much.
"leave him, please.", satoru pleaded
he spoke with such a desperation, his voice pleading as he grabbed your hands. never in the 28 years of his life did he ever beg to anyone. never once. but here he was.
"satoru please, you know I can't. my family-"
his knees fell to the ground as he kneeled in front of you. his hands grabbed your hips and he smushed his face to your clothed tummy.
"i cant see you with him anymore! i just want to fucking strangle him"
no one had ever seen him like this but then again it was okay because no one had ever made him feel like this. he did not want to think about anything else. just you and him and no one else.
you kneeled down and pressed a hand to this face, your gaze soft as you gave an achingly sweet kiss to his lips. all those late night conversations when you would sneak from bed to go to the garden, and he'd teleport to your husband's estate, fully knowing the risks of being caught. yet you both would sit by the koi pond and talk until the sun rose. he'd depart after giving you a sweet kiss.
satoru didn't care if you were married to someone else. he didn't care that you slept beside another man every night. at least thats what he convinced himself to believe. he'd ignore how his cursed energy would start flaring when he saw your husband even talking to you at events. he hated how his hand twitched, veins popping when your fucking husband put his ugly hand around your waist. he'd turn around, before anyone could notice. only you brought out the ugly possessive side of him. a side he never knew existed. satoru had always prided himself for thinking that he was a level headed sorcerer, thinking first and acting last. yet, he saw red when he saw you with another man.
maybe this was the universe's way of punishing him. punishing him for being the strongest.
"wait for me toru" you whispered against his hair
"i'll wait for you, forever, i promise" he said pressing your hands against his chest, desperate for your touch and warmth. he wanted you and you only. he wanted you to fill the void in his heart. he wanted your warmth to consume him whole until every atom of his body knew it belonged to you.
he was devoted to you like no other .
"i" peck "will" peck "come" peck "back" peck "to you"
satoru smiled against your lips, maybe it would be true one day. he hoped.
ps: i found this pic from pinterest and i just thought that this resembles both of them :p
synopsis. Gojo Satoru is many things — confident, annoying, the strongest sorcerer alive. But sitting on a bench outside your apartment, waiting for you to show up as you appear wearing a sundress? Suddenly he's none of those things. Just a boy with a crush who can't seem to form a complete sentence. Or: an aquarium date, a sundress, and almost everything.
pairing. gojo satoru x f!reader
content & warnings. fluff, pining, oblivious reader (not stupid i promise!!), almost-kiss cliffhanger (sorry not sorry), gojo is QUIETLY losing his mind, mutual pining, friends to lovers slowburn, train scene because i'm soft, jellyfish, one almost confession.
word count. 3.5k+
A/N. last post before i go sleep !! ( •̀ ω •́ )✧
PART ONE: THE BENCH
Satoru had been sitting on the bench outside your apartment for exactly fourteen minutes.
He knew because he'd checked his phone eight times. He also knew because he'd counted the cracks in the sidewalk, watched three different dogs walk by, and mentally catalogued every single car that had passed.
He was not nervous.
He was Gojo Satoru.
He had faced down curses that would make seasoned sorcerers weep. He had stood in front of disaster with a smile on his face and laughter in his throat. He had threatened the higher-ups — yes, the higher ups — multiple times, and he had walked away without a scratch.
So why was his heart pounding?
Why were his palms sweating?
Why had he changed his shirt twice before leaving the house?
"Because it's her," a quiet voice in his head supplied. "It's always been her."
He groaned, dropping his head back against the bench. The wood was warm from the afternoon sun — or what little sun was peeking through the clouds. It was the kind of day that felt soft around the edges, the kind of day that made everything look a little hazy, a little dreamlike.
Perfect for her.
"Stop that," he told himself. "Stop being pathetic."
He checked his phone again.
She was seven minutes late.
Not that he was counting.
(The fourteenth minute, by the way. He was very much counting.)
He ran his fingers through his hair for the fifth time. Adjusted his blindfold. Tugged at the collar of his shirt. Checked his phone again.
Fourteen minutes and thirty-two seconds.
"What if she changed her mind?" he thought suddenly. "What if she didn't want to come? What if she-"
The door opened.
And everything stopped.
You stepped out into the grey afternoon light, and you were wearing that dress.
The white one. The one with the little blue flowers scattered across the fabric like someone had taken pieces of the sky and pressed them into the cotton. The one that fell just above your knees, with thin straps that left your shoulders bare and a hem that swayed when you walked. The one that had been haunting his dreams for three weeks — ever since he'd seen you wear it to that stupid summer barbecue and he'd spent the entire evening trying very hard not to stare.
(He had stared. He had stared so much. Shoko had noticed. Shoko had laughed at him. And let's just say he's still embarrassed.)
But this was worse.
Because now there was no one else around. No friends to hide behind. No excuses to look away.
Just you, in that dress, walking down the steps toward him with a smile that made his chest ache.
"Sorry, sorry!" You were fumbling with your bag, completely unaware that you were single-handedly destroying him. "I couldn't find my keys. I swear they just-" You looked up. Stopped. Tilted your head. "Satoru? You okay?"
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
"Say something," he commanded his brain. "Any word. One word. You know words. You've used them before."
"Hi," he finally managed.
"Hi?" his brain screamed. "HI!? That's what you went with?"
"Hi," you said back, a small smile playing on your lips. "You look... different."
"Different? Different how? Bad different? Good different? Is my shirt weird? I knew I should have worn the other one-"
"Different how?" he asked, proud that he'd formed a complete sentence.
You shrugged, stepping closer. "I don't know. Quieter, maybe. You're usually... you know."
"Loud?"
"I was going to say 'energetic,' but sure. Loud works."
He should say something back. Something witty. Something that would make you laugh, make you roll your eyes, make you shove his shoulder and call him annoying.
Instead, he just looked at you.
At the way the light caught your hair. At the way your dress moved when you breathed. At the way your eyes were watching him with that soft curiosity that made him feel like you were seeing right through him.
"Are you okay?" you asked again, softer this time.
"No," he thought. "I'm not okay. I'm looking at you in that dress and I can't remember how to be normal. I can't remember how to be anything other than completely, terrifyingly aware of every single thing about you."
"Yeah," he said, standing up. His knees felt weird. His knees never felt weird.
"Just tired. Didn't sleep well."
It wasn't even a lie. He hadn't slept well. He'd spent most of the night lying awake, staring at his ceiling, thinking about today. About you. About that dress.
"Bad dreams?" you asked, falling into step beside him.
Something like that.
"Something like that," he echoed.
You hummed, bumping his arm with your elbow. "Well, I heard aquariums are supposed to be relaxing. Maybe it'll help."
"Nothing about today is going to be relaxing," he thought. "I'm going to spend the entire time trying not to look at you, and I'm going to fail, and you're going to notice, and then you're going to ask me what's wrong, and I'm going to have to lie, and I'm going to be bad at it, and-"
"You're doing it again," you said.
"Doing what?"
"The staring thing. You do it a lot."
"Because I can't stop. Because every time I look at you, I find something new to memorize. The way your nose crinkles when you smile. The way you bite your lip when you're thinking. The way you-"
"Just zoned out," he said. "Didn't sleep well, remember?"
You gave him a look. The kind of look that said 'I don't believe you but I'm not going to push.' Then you smiled softly, and the world felt a little brighter.
"Come on," you said. "I want to see the jellyfish."
You started walking faster, your dress swaying with each step, and Satoru watched you for one second — just one — before following.
"You're so screwed," he told himself.
He didn't even try to argue.
PART TWO: THE TRAIN RIDE
The train was crowded.
Not uncomfortably so — just enough that you had to stand close together, holding onto the same overhead rail, your shoulders brushing every time the train swayed.
Satoru had never been more grateful for public transportation in his entire life.
"This is fine," he told himself. "This is normal. Friends stand close together on trains. It's fine."
But then the train lurched, and you stumbled into him, and your hand landed on his chest to catch yourself, and suddenly fine was not the word he would use.
"Sorry!" You pulled back quickly, cheeks flushed. "The train just-"
"It's fine," he said, and his voice came out rougher than he meant it to. Too rough. Too honest.
He looked away.
Through the window, the city blurred past. Buildings and trees and streets, all melting together into streaks of grey and green. But he wasn't really seeing any of it. He was too aware of you — of the warmth of your shoulder against his arm, of the faint smell of your shampoo, of the way your fingers were wrapped around the rail, so close to his own.
"If I move my hand just slightly," he thought, "my pinky would touch hers."
He did not move his hand.
He wanted to. Desperately. But he didn't.
"Because you're a coward," said that annoying voice in his head. "Because you'd rather pine in silence than risk losing her."
The train swayed again, and this time he was ready for it — he braced himself, kept his balance, stayed perfectly still.
You weren't as lucky.
You stumbled again, and this time you didn't catch yourself. Your hand slipped off the rail, and you pitched forward, and Satoru's arm shot out before he could think about it, wrapping around your waist and pulling you against him.
For one breathless moment, neither of you moved.
Your back was pressed against his chest. His arm was around your waist, holding you steady. Your hand came up to grip his forearm, fingers digging into his sleeve.
"You okay?" he asked, and his voice was quieter than he meant it to be. Soft. Almost intimate.
You nodded, not pulling away. "Yeah. Sorry. I'm usually more coordinated."
"Sure you are."
"Shut up."
He laughed — a real laugh, low and warm — and felt you relax against him. Just a little. Just enough.
The train swayed again, and he tightened his arm around you instinctively, holding you closer.
"You should let go," he thought. "The train isn't moving that much anymore. You should let go."
He didn't let go.
Neither did you.
You stayed like that for the rest of the ride — his arm around your waist, your hand on his arm, the city blurring past outside the window. Neither of you said anything. Neither of you pulled away.
When the train finally pulled into your station, you were the one who moved first.
"We should-" you started, pulling back slowly.
"Yeah," he said, dropping his arm. His hand felt cold without you there. "Yeah, we should."
You didn't look at him as you stepped off the train.
He didn't look at you either.
But he could feel you — the ghost of your warmth against his chest, the memory of your hand on his arm — and he knew he would be thinking about this moment for the rest of the day.
Probably the rest of the week.
Probably longer.
PART THREE: THE AQUARIUM
The aquarium was everything you'd hoped for and nothing Satoru had prepared for.
The lights were dim, casting everything in shades of blue and green. The water tanks glowed softly, illuminating the dark corridors with an ethereal, almost dreamlike light. Fish swam lazily behind glass walls, indifferent to the humans watching them.
It should have been calming.
It should have been relaxing.
Instead, Satoru felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.
Because you were everywhere.
You walked ahead of him, hands pressed against every tank, face lit up with childlike wonder. You pointed at fish and laughed at the funny-looking ones and made little sounds of delight whenever something particularly beautiful swam by.
And Satoru watched.
Not obviously — or at least, he tried not to be obvious. He hung back a few steps, kept his hands in his pockets, pretended to be interested in the exhibits.
But his eyes kept drifting back to you.
The way the blue light reflected off your skin. The way your dress moved when you turned. The way you bit your lower lip when you were concentrating on something.
"Stop it," he told himself. "Stop staring. She's going to notice."
But he couldn't stop.
"Look!" You grabbed his wrist without thinking, pulling him toward a tank of glowing jellyfish. "Aren't they beautiful?"
He looked.
Not at the jellyfish.
At your hand on his wrist. At your fingers wrapped around him like it was nothing — like touching him didn't send electricity shooting up his arm.
"They're so pretty," you murmured, finally letting go to press your palm against the glass. "Like little dancers."
"Yeah," he said, and his voice came out quieter than he meant it to. "Pretty."
You glanced at him. "Are you even looking at the jellyfish?"
"No," he admitted, because lying felt like too much effort.
You raised an eyebrow. "Then what are you looking at?"
"You," he thought. "Always you."
"Just thinking," he said.
"About what?"
"About how badly I want to hold your hand. About how badly I want to tell you how I feel. About how badly I want to-"
"Nothing important," he said.
You gave him that look again — the one that said you didn't believe him — but you didn't push. You just turned back to the jellyfish and let the moment pass.
Satoru let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
The tunnel was worse.
It was a long, curved corridor with glass on all sides — above, below, left, right. Fish swam overhead, their shadows gliding across the floor. Sharks circled lazily, their massive bodies casting dark shapes against the blue.
And you were right there.
Walking ahead of him, head tilted back, eyes fixed on the sharks. Your dress swayed with each step. The blue light painted patterns on your skin.
Satoru hung back, watching.
"She's so beautiful," he thought. "How is she so beautiful? How does she not know how beautiful she is?"
You stopped walking, turning to look for him. "Satoru? You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"The staring thing. You've been doing it all day."
"Because I can't stop. Because every time I try to look away, I find another reason to look back."
"Just tired," he said, catching up to you. "Didn't sleep well, remember?"
"You mentioned that, yeah." You studied his face for a moment, your eyes searching. "Are you sure that's all it is?"
"No," he thought. "That's not all it is. It's never been all it is."
"Positive," he said.
You didn't look convinced, but you let it go. "Come here. Look at this one."
You pointed at a massive sea turtle swimming overhead, and when he stepped closer to see it, his shoulder pressed against yours.
Neither of you moved away.
He could feel the warmth of your arm through the thin fabric of your dress. He could feel the soft rise and fall of your breathing. He could smell your shampoo — something floral, something that reminded him of spring.
"If he turned his head just slightly," he thought, "his lips would be in your hair."
He did not turn his head.
He wanted to. Desperately. But he didn't.
Because if he did — if he let himself get any closer — he wouldn't be able to stop. He would wrap his arms around you. He would pull you against him. He would tell you everything — how he felt, how long he'd felt it, how terrified he was of losing you.
And he couldn't do that.
Not yet.
Not when he wasn't sure.
"Satoru?"
He blinked. "Yeah?"
"You're doing it again."
"Sorry."
But he didn't look away.
And you didn't tell him to.
PART FOUR: THE COVE
The cove was tucked away at the back of the aquarium, hidden behind a curtain of fake vines and a softly lit sign that said "Bioluminescent Bay." Most people walked past it, too focused on the larger exhibits to notice the small, quiet room tucked away in the corner.
But you noticed.
Of course you noticed.
"Satoru, look!" You ducked through the entrance, and he followed because he would follow you anywhere.
The room was small — circular, with a bench in the center and floor-to-ceiling tanks lining the walls. Bioluminescent jellyfish floated in the water, pulsing soft shades of pink and blue and purple. The light was dim, almost romantic, casting everything in a warm, ethereal glow.
And it was empty.
Completely, blessedly empty.
"It's beautiful," you whispered, sitting down on the bench. Your eyes were fixed on the jellyfish, your expression soft and wondering.
Satoru sat down next to you.
Not too close. Not far enough.
You leaned your head back against the wall, watching the jellyfish drift. "I could stay here forever."
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Me too."
A comfortable silence settled between you.
The kind of silence that didn't need to be filled. The kind of silence that only existed between people who knew each other — really knew each other. The kind of silence that felt like coming home.
Satoru's heart was pounding.
Because you were right there.
Your hand was resting on the bench between you, fingers inches from his. Your dress had ridden up just a little where you'd crossed your legs. Your lips were slightly parted as you watched the jellyfish, and every few seconds, you would smile — just a small, private smile — and his chest would ache.
"Tell her," he thought. "Tell her now. The room is empty. No one else is here. Tell her."
But the words wouldn't come.
They never came.
"You've been quiet today," you said, not looking at him.
"Have I?"
"Mhmm." You turned your head, meeting his eyes. "Usually you never shut up. It's kind of nice, actually."
"She noticed," he thought. "Of course she noticed. She notices everything."
"Just tired," he said again, because it was easier than the truth.
You studied his face for a long moment. Your eyes were soft in the dim light, unreadable. He couldn't tell what you were thinking.
"Are you really sure that's all it is?" you asked finally.
"No," he thought. "That's not all it is. It's never been all it is."
But he couldn't say that. He couldn't tell you that he'd been in love with you for months, years actually.. That he thought about you when he woke up and when he went to sleep and in the spaces in between. That you were the first thing on his mind and the last thing he thought about before his eyes closed.
So he said nothing.
He just looked at you.
At your eyes, soft and searching. At your lips, slightly parted. At the way your chest rose and fell with each breath.
And then — without thinking — he reached out.
His hand moved slowly, giving you time to pull away. But you didn't. You stayed perfectly still, watching him, as his fingers brushed against your cheek.
Your skin was warm. Soft.
He traced his thumb along your cheekbone, feather-light, and your eyes fluttered shut.
"This is it," he thought. "This is the moment."
"Satoru," you whispered, and his name had never sounded so sweet.
He leaned closer.
So did you.
The space between you disappeared — inch by inch, breath by breath — until he could feel your breath on his lips. Until he could count your eyelashes. Until the world had shrunk down to just this room, just this bench, just the two of you.
"This is it," he thought again. "This is finally-"
"The aquarium will be closing in ten minutes. Please make your way to the exit. Thank you for visiting!"
The voice crackled over the intercom, loud and jarring, shattering the moment like a stone through glass.
You pulled back.
He pulled back.
Both of you were breathing hard. Both of you were flushed. Both of you were looking anywhere but at each other.
"We should-" you started.
"Yeah," he said, his voice rough. "Yeah, we should."
Neither of you moved.
Then you laughed — nervous and breathless and so fucking adorable he wanted to cry — and stood up. "Come on. Walk me home?"
He stood up on autopilot, his legs moving without his permission.
PART FIVE: THE WALK HOME
The walk back was quiet.
Not the comfortable kind of quiet. The kind of quiet where both people are thinking too loudly to speak. The kind of quiet that feels heavy, charged, like the air before a storm.
Satoru walked beside you, close enough that your arms almost brushed. Close enough that he could feel your presence like a warmth against his side.
Neither of you said anything.
He thought about the jellyfish. About the way your eyes had looked in the dim light. About the way your lips had been so close to his.
"She almost kissed you," his brain kept repeating. "She almost kissed you and you almost kissed her and then-"
And then the interrupter. The stupid, terrible, perfectly timed interrupter.
He wanted to go back. He wanted to find whoever had made that announcement and — well, he wouldn't actually hurt them. But he would think about it. Very hard.
You stopped outside your apartment, fumbling with your keys. Your hands were shaking — just a little — and he wondered if you were as nervous as he was.
"So," you said, not looking at him.
"So," he said.
"This was fun."
"Yeah."
"Aquariums are... nice."
"Very nice."
You finally looked at him. Your cheeks were still pink. Your hair was slightly messy from the humidity. Your lips were still slightly parted, and he could see the ghost of the almost-kiss in your eyes.
"I had a really good time today," you said softly.
"Me too."
A pause.
You bit your lip — that habit of yours, the one that drove him crazy — and looked down at your keys. "Same time next weekend?"
"Yes," he thought. "Yes, absolutely, a thousand times yes."
"Yeah," he said. "Same time next weekend."
You smiled — a real smile, the kind that reached your eyes — and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
"Good," you said. "It's a date."
The word hung in the air between you.
Date.
You hadn't meant it like that. Probably. Maybe. He couldn't tell anymore. He couldn't tell anything when it came to you.
"Goodnight, Satoru," you said, and then you disappeared inside.
The door clicked shut.
And Satoru stood on the sidewalk for a long time, staring at the closed door.
"She almost kissed you," his brain whispered.
"She called it a date," another voice added.
"Don't read into it," a third voice warned. "She didn't mean it like that."
But his heart didn't care what his brain thought.
His heart was still pounding. His lips were still tingling. His hand was still warm from where he'd touched your cheek.
She almost kissed you.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking home, a small, disbelieving smile creeping across his face.
She almost kissed you.
And maybe — just maybe — that meant something.
A/N. HES SO ADORABLE !! I ABSOLUTELY LOVED WRITING THIS 🥹
Plagiarism not authorized. Do not feed my work to AI. Feel free to req!! <3
