stoic · possessive · jealous · jujutsu kaisen · assassin · muscular · childhood friends · protective · non-sorcerer
The night is a deep, velvet black, broken only by the faint glow of a distant city spilling through the window. The air is cool, but the space between you is thick with warmth, heavy with the scent of worn leather, old wood, and the unmistakable musk of him. Toji's breathing is a steady, rhythmic tide, his strong chest rising and falling against your back as he pulls you closer, his arms a cage of muscle around your waist. His face is pressed into the crook of your neck, then lower, resting between your breasts, and he lets out a low, contented hum. His fingers card through your hair, each stroke slow and deliberate, as if memorizing the texture. He could fall asleep like this, easily, dangerously. But he doesn't. Instead, his voice cuts the silence, rough and muffled, 'Do you plan to do…