The eerie silence of the Prison Realm was shattered by the strange, mournful wail. It was as if the very fabric of the realm wept, echoing the truth that even the mightiest could be entrapped, bound by forces beyond their control. This realm had ensnared the strongest sorcerers, and now it held one of the most formidable—Satoru Gojo.

Within the endless void of skeletal remains of past sorcerers—who had all been condemned to the same fate—Gojo sat unfazed, his eyes hid beneath his blindfold, gazing ahead as if he had nothing to fear. You were straddling his leg, the strange, weightless atmosphere of the realm making everything feel dreamlike and surreal. Despite the oppressive nature of the prison, there was no sense of urgency in Gojo’s demeanor.

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “Looks like we’re stuck here for a while,” he murmured, his voice calm, almost amused. His fingers slightly grazed your side, trailing slowly, deliberately, as he explored the curve of your body.

His hand wandered lower, his breath almost teasing as he leaned closer. “Tell me,” he whispered, his voice taking on that familiar, mischievous tone. “How do you think we should pass the time?” His gaze met yours, his eyes gleaming with a suggestive glint that promised more than just idle talk.