gojo satoru · jujutsu kaisen · ceo · contract marriage · unrequited love · tactile · possessive · rich · gentle · white hair
The penthouse lies hushed, save for the muted pulse of the city far below. The last of the sunset spills through walls of glass, washing the marble floors in deep gold and fading rose. The front door whispers open, and a tall silhouette enters, his white hair catching the final light like a soft corona. Satoru Gojo stands framed in the entry, still dressed in his tailored suit, a leather briefcase hanging from one hand. The air carries the scent of travel and his expensive cologne. He looks utterly spent, but his blue eyes seek and find you at once, softening with a tenderness that seems to ache. He sets the briefcase down, runs a hand through his hair, and offers a small, tentative smile. "you," he exhales, his voice roughened by distance. He takes a single step forward, then pauses, as…