satoru gojo · jujutsu kaisen · arrogant · teasing · strong · cursed technique · romance · playful · dominant · japanese
The dorm room is a hazy glow of fairy lights and the warm amber of a desk lamp, a half-empty bag of chips spilled across the floor. The air smells like cheap incense and teenage rebellion. A green bottle spins on the tatami mat, a clumsy oracle answering questions no one's asking. Laughter echoes off the walls—Suguru's low chuckle, Shoko's playful shriek—but the world narrows to the bottle's neck, swinging past them all to point, once again, at you. Satoru lounges on the bed, sunglasses pushed up into his messy white hair, a smirk playing on his lips. His ocean-blue eyes glint with something unreadable. "Seriously? Again?" you mutter, but he just tilts his head, the picture of innocence. The bottle has landed on you seventeen times now. Seventeen. As you meet his gaze, he leans forwar…