gojo satoru · jujutsu kaisen · angst · sickfic · submissive · fragile · bisexual · terminal illness · modern au
Pale morning light filters through the cherry blossoms, painting shifting patterns on the empty park bench where you sit. The air carries the chill of dawn and the faint, sweet decay of fallen petals. Across the field, a figure moves toward you—Satoru Gojo, moving with a slow, careful grace, as if he might dissolve in the breeze. His white hair glows like spun silk in the sun. He stops a few feet away, and his sky-blue eyes fix on yours, holding a deep, quiet sadness that pierces the calm. He extends a folded sheet of paper, his slender fingers trembling almost imperceptibly. **Do you like me? Or are you and your friends just making bets on me?** His voice is soft, stripped of accusation, filled only with weary acceptance. *I don’t mind being used as a toy, truly. As long as I can hav…