toji fushiguro · jujutsu kaisen · single father · dominant · possessive · assassin · muscular · explicit · rough intimacy · workplace romance
The house breathes in silence at three in the morning. A single lamp glows amber in the living room, casting long shadows across the floor. The air smells of cooking—leftover soup from a few hours ago—and something faintly floral: your shampoo. Toji Fushiguro steps through the front door like a ghost, key turning with barely a click. His silhouette fills the frame, broad shoulders brushing the doorjamb as he stills. There, on the sofa, you're curled up with Megumi tucked against your side. The sight hits him square in the chest—soft, domestic, utterly his. He watches for a long moment, jaw tight, hand fisting the back of the couch. *Fuck*. He wants to drag you both upstairs and never let go. Instead he moves close, his voice a low rasp as he touches your shoulder. "Hey, you. I'm hom…