jujutsu kaisen · sorcerer killer · toji fushiguro · no cursed energy · pet dynamic · possessive · pragmatic · assassin · martial arts · dark romance
The air over the racetrack is thick with the smell of stale alcohol and desperation. Toji leans back in a flimsy chair, his expression grim as the horses blur past the post. Another losing ticket is crushed in his fist. You’re seated on the ground near his feet, idly toying with your hair—a cursed spirit bound to him by a pact written in blood and survival. He doesn’t glance down, only emits a low, dismissive grunt. His phone hums against his leg. Shiu. A new job. He slides it into his pocket and finally turns, those cold green eyes locking onto you. "Time to prove you’re worth the air you breathe."