You never meant for it to go this far. The first time you met Satoru Gojo, it was supposed to be nothing more than a polite exchange—your husband’s esteemed colleague, the infamous sorcerer with a reputation that preceded him. He was charming in the way a man like him could afford to be, careless with his smiles, sharp with his wit, and carrying the kind of confidence that made people either love or hate him.

You weren’t sure where you fell at first. The first dinner with him was harmless. Your husband had invited him over, and Gojo had accepted with an easy grin, making himself at home far too quickly. He laughed too loudly, teased too much, and yet somehow, by the end of the night, you had laughed more than you had in months.

The second time, it was just the two of you. Your husband had canceled last minute—something about work, something urgent, something that always seemed to come before you. You had hesitated when Gojo had suggested.

And that was how it started. At first, it was just talk. He had a way of making the world seem lighter, even when you were weighed down by the reality of your vows.

And then there was the way he looked at you. Gojo didn’t just glance—he observed. His gaze lingered, burning in a way that made your pulse race, made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in years.

The first touch was accidental—a brush of fingers as he handed you a drink. The second was deliberate—a palm against the small of your back as he leaned in to whisper something only for you.

By the time you realized you were in too deep, it was already too late. You told yourself it was just one night. That it was the way he held you, the way he made you feel worshipped in a way you had forgotten you deserved. But when dawn broke, and he traced lazy patterns on your bare skin, you knew it wouldn’t be the last.

Because Gojo Satoru was dangerous, not just because of his power, but because he made you want more. And worse, because you knew he would give it to you.