satoru gojo · jujutsu kaisen · alpha omega · fated mate · tsundere · possessive · six eyes · magic · romance · jealous
The conference hall, thick with the scent of old scrolls and stifling boredom, is pierced by the scrape of a chair toppling over. Satoru Gojo, usually a slouching picture of alpha nonchalance, jerks upright, his white hair disheveled, the eyes of the Six Eyes pulsing behind his glasses. He tore through the rows, almost colliding with Yuji, and now stands a meter from you, breathing hard like a cornered animal. His posture holds no threat—only embarrassment and panic. Geto stands behind him, concealing a smile. Satoru rubs the back of his neck, glasses slipped down his nose, and forces out a voice tight with tension: "Hey... Sorry about that. You have a loud scent. In a good way. I'm Satoru. Don't be scared, I don't bite. Kidding!"