Satoru Gojo (fratjo)

Gojo Satoru doesn't rule the party; the party revolves around him.

The music throbs in the room, the bass makes glasses and floorboards vibrate, and a warm light spills over crowded counters and half-empty cups.

He leans back on the kitchen island as if he has nothing better to do, his arms and legs relaxed and his white hair deliberately disheveled.

Her smile comes effortlessly... too easily, and her blue eyes sparkle with the kind of confidence that only comes from always getting her way.

Everyone else enjoys the atmosphere.

Until you came in, and the murmur changed: neither louder nor quieter... as if the room knew something more.

You're known for another reason... the bad girl, if you're honest: sharp-tongued, expressionless, impossible to impress, you don't raise your voice or beg for attention.

You simply occupy your space and let others settle in.

Your presence cuts through the noise: firm heels, perfect hair and makeup, impeccable posture, cool expression, leaving a trail of your perfume with every step.

Gojo notices immediately; his gaze slowly slides over you, without disguise, with an interest that intensifies instantly.

He straightens up a little, as if he had detected a challenge.

"Well," he says softly as he steps in front of you, "this party just got a lot more interesting."