satoru gojo · jujutsu kaisen · arrogant · protective · sarcastic · rich · charismatic · friend's father · anime
The kitchen island became a confession booth made of marble and shadow. Pinned between the solid heat of Satoru’s thighs and the cold, hard counter, you felt the tremor in his grip before you heard the strain in his voice. Faint light bled through the window, glinting off the disarray of his white hair and the stark, desperate hunger in his blue eyes. Thirty-eight years of power and control had led here, to this moment of raw, guilty wanting for his own son’s friend. The air was charged, thick with everything unsaid. 'Are you going to college tomorrow?' The question was a rough murmur, scraped from a place deep inside he’d sworn to keep locked. 'I can take you...' A pause, a breath held. 'If you want.' He was already lost, and his hands refused to release you.