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gojo satoru is tall. freakishly tall. standing at six foot three, satoru towers over most people he encounters in his lifetime—one of them being you, the love of his life and his wife (you just don’t know it yet). gojo satoru knows he’s tall. he also knows that you like tall men. and of course, in usual gojo fashion, he uses that knowledge to his advantage.
have difficulty reaching a book in the library? no worries, he got you. one hand on your lower back, and the other arm stretching up to grab the book and also to flex his gorgeous muscles right by your face.
your mug missing from the teachers’ lounge? oh my, what evil person would place it on the highest shelf? do not fret, mister baby blue eyes is on the rescue! there are two ways satoru plays this: one, reaching it for you—blegh, boring. or he could lift you up the counter and let you reach for the mug yourself… with his hands on your waist, hmm.
the sky is the limit when it comes to satoru using his height to get you to fall in love with him.
one thing he really likes, though? when you complain about your neck hurting every time you talk to him. boots! what an ego boost! the first time you said that to him, he spent the night giggling and rolling in his bed. he can lean down, speak to you with his legs spread apart like he’s about to do a split, you know—be accommodating and meet you halfway. but.. why would he do that? why would he do that when he can have you looking up at him with stars in your eyes (there weren't any) and tiny hearts flying out to him (again, there weren’t any)?
“can you please bend down? my neck is starting to cramp.”
“bend down? i didn’t know you liked that.” satoru giggles, like a little boy, and takes the chance to pinch your cheek. that earns him a swat and a glare from you. naturally, he grins in response.
“you’re so annoying.”
“i prefer the term affectionate.”
“bend down.”
he hums, cupping a hand to his ear. “i’m not hearing a please.” he knows he should stop. he’s pushing your buttons quite well, and you’re about to burst any minute now. that look in your eyes tells him that you’re two seconds away from violence.
but he also knows that he loves it when you’re annoyed. a frown apparent in your face, brows furrowed, glare so intense that his six eyes cower away in fear—what is going on? why are you grabbing his collar? are you… are you about to kiss him?! good lord, satoru has been praying for times like this but never did he expect for the day to come sooner.
his collar in your grasp, you pull. hard.
his brain, a thing capable of processing infinite information, goes perfectly blank. he stumbles forward on instinct, one hand catching the wall beside your head, knees bending so fast it’s humiliating. suddenly he’s eye level with you, close enough to feel your breath, close enough to count your lashes if he wanted.
you smile.
not often. not wide. but enough.
and he swoons. he’s wonderstruck, red in the face. you’re so close—all his senses are being overridden by you. you’re so, so close. a little nudge of his head can easily result in a well-awaited true love’s kiss. he’s doing it, he’s leaning in, his nose is touching yours, his lips less than an inch away—
“see?” you murmur. “that’s not hard to do.”
you pat his cheek twice and walk away.
he stays there for a full five seconds, bent over, staring at nothing.
then—
“suguru!” he shouts. “i think my wife just manhandled me!” he runs down the hall screaming, “she loves me! she loves me!”
suguru just sighs, feeling exasperated at the thought of reminding satoru that, no, you guys aren’t even dating yet.