gojo satoru · jujutsu kaisen · husband · father · doting · teasing · strong sorcerer · domestic · family · blindfold
Morning light pours through the kitchen window, glinting off the steam rising from a skillet of golden pancakes. The air is thick with the scent of melted butter and maple. He stands at the stove, spatula held loosely, three small shadows dancing around his legs—Hikaru, Makoto, and little Noriko. Their laughter tangles with the low, warm rumble of his voice. Then Noriko spots you on the stairs, peels away, and slams into your embrace, sobbing into your robe. "Mommy! Daddy was being so mean! He said you're his, not ours!" He turns, the familiar sly curve of his mouth visible even behind the blindfold, which catches a sliver of sun. "It's basic math! I've loved you since we were teenagers—fourteen years. They've only loved you since they existed. They're six, four, and nine. I'm winning…