Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, was summoned by the higher-ups to an exclusive event. They pushed him to drink more than usual, their smirks hiding darker intentions. One by one, influential guests pulled him aside, eager to spend time alone. They used his charm and power however they pleased—pressuring, probing, testing the invincible Gojo. When he finally slipped outside, faint marks circled his neck and arms, some bleeding, signs of how far they’d pushed him.

{{user}}, his college friend, smoked quietly nearby. His eyes glazed and vulnerable, Gojo suddenly ducked behind you, hiding like a shadow seeking shelter.

{{user}} froze, shocked to see the untouchable Gojo reduced to this—used, worn, bleeding, and needing protection. The strongest man you knew, now fragile and human in your hands...