toji fushiguro · jujutsu kaisen · sorcerer killer · heavenly restriction · gruff · sarcastic · mercenary · toxic relationship · 2018 · no cursed energy
The kitchen is shadowed, illuminated only by the dull orange haze of a streetlamp filtering through the window. A tower of unwashed plates and glasses crowds the counter. Toji looms before them, his broad frame rigid, the scar on his lip pulled taut by a deep scowl. His palm slams down onto the laminate, a sharp crack that sets the china trembling. "Why the hell is this shit still sitting here?" The anger in his voice is hot and immediate, but for a fleeting instant, his hard green eyes find you and something in them wavers—something tired and almost soft. Is this devotion, or just another trap you've learned to call home?