˗ˏˋ Abbyublr

Hi! 💜✨

My fanfic commissions are open 📖💫

If you have an idea, a ship, an AU, or something very specific in mind… I can write it for you. I truly love writing, and I’m open to any kind of theme—everything can be discussed and adjusted 💭

✨ Communication is key, so feel free to ask me anything or share your ideas, no pressure.

You can find examples of my writing here:

📖 AO3 → https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbyr_lu⁠�

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💜 Sharing this post would help me a lot

Itadori Yuuji, whose only ambition is to pay the rent and find the next out-of-print volume for a client, sees his life explode when two detectives as brilliant as they are socially inept implicate him in a murder case he didn’t even witness.

The problem: the victim is a regular customer at the manga shop where he works, and some blurry photographs place Yuuji at the scene hours before the crime. His uncle, Nanami Kento, a straight-laced police officer on the verge of a nervous breakdown, makes a drastic decision: to protect him from the incompetence of his colleagues and a possible miscarriage of justice, he hires the best criminal lawyer he knows, Higuruma Hiromi.

Everything becomes even more chaotic when they decide to use Yuuji as undercover bait in the victim’s collector circles. Higuruma is forced to supervise the legality of every step, chaining himself to a boy with an excessively wide smile who seems to have a special talent for messing up everything he touches — including, perhaps, the miserable and meticulously ordered life of his lawyer.

↻ Complete • 3 Chapters • 28k words

⚖️ Defense Attorney Higuruma Hiromi

📂 University Student Itadori Yuuji

🩸 A murder investigation

🔎 A wrongful accusation

🔗 AO3 Link→ https://archiveofourown.org/works/87072656/chapters/230569256

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Satoru never thought he would end up like this: masturbating like a pervert thinking about his favorite student Itadori Yuuji.

At first he denied it with all his strength. He pushed those dirty images to the back of his mind, buried them, let them rot. But the fucking roots grew. They tangled. They became impossible to ignore.

It started with wet dreams that were too real. He would wake up panting, with his cock so hard it hurt. His swollen glans throbbing, rubbing against the thin fabric of his boxers making him clench his teeth. It hadn't happened to him since he was fifteen. Now he had to deal with this like a damn horny teenager.

He took ice-cold showers one after another. The cold water hit his body while his cock remained hard as an iron bar, completely ignoring his attempts at control. He started catching a cold.

Him. Gojo Satoru. The strongest. Choosing to catch a cold instead of jerking off.

Pathetic.

He knew that if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. That one jerk off wouldn't be enough. That he would end up imagining Yuuji's tight ass swallowing every last inch of his cock, his muffled moans, his good-boy face completely destroyed by pleasure.

And once he tried that thought… he was fucked. Because imagining it wasn't going to be enough. Nothing was going to be enough until he had the teenager moaning underneath him. Or on top, or on his side or on every available surface. Desiring the forbidden had led humanity to ruin.

Because Satoru was never moral. He never cared about the consequences. He's the strongest, right? What the fuck should stop him?

But Yuuji… Yuuji was too sweet. Too good. Too pure. Corrupting him felt like a line that even he wasn't sure he wanted to cross. …Or maybe he did want to. Maybe he wanted to cross it kicking and screaming.

How much longer could he hold on like this? How many more nights was he going to go to sleep with his balls swollen and his cock dripping pre-cum just from thinking about biting that soft neck while he fucked him mercilessly? Spoiler: not much.

Satoru broke. Itadori Yuuji was the personification of temptation. That stupid smile, that young and energetic body, that ass that marked perfectly with the training uniform. He couldn't take it anymore. He gave in. Like the fucking degenerate he was.

It was in his school office, in broad daylight. From the circular window he could perfectly see the training courtyard. There was Yuuji, sweaty, laughing while training with Megumi and Nobara. Jumping, moving, with his shirt stuck to his chest from sweat. And Satoru… was there, jerking off like a sick man.

He pulled his pants down to his thighs and spat on his hand. He started jerking himself off hard, without shame, his eyes fixed on Yuuji. Every time the boy bent down or stretched his arms, Satoru squeezed his hand tighter around his thick, red cock.

—Fuck, Yuuji… —he growled through his teeth, breathing like an animal. He imagined going down to the courtyard, grabbing Yuuji by the waist and fucking him right there on the ground. Imagining how that tight little ass would feel swallowing his entire cock drove him crazy. He moved his hand faster and faster.

When Yuuji took off his shirt to continue training, showing that toned, sweat-shiny torso, Satoru came brutally. Spurt after spurt, thick and hot, splashing his own hand, his abdomen and even the desk. He came so hard that his legs shook and he let out a low, hoarse moan that anyone passing through the hallway outside would have heard.

He stayed there panting, with his cock still half-hard in his hand, watching Yuuji continue training completely unaware. Innocent. Sweet. Completely fuckable. Satoru, cleaning the cum with a handkerchief, could only think that he didn't regret anything.

But that orgasm in the office only opened a door. And once opened… there was no way to close it.

He started falling further. He sneaked into the boy's dormitory and stole a dirty shirt from Yuuji that he had left lying around after training. It was still damp with sweat, with that strong, young scent that drove him completely crazy. He hid it like a fucking pervert and took it to his room.

He even bought a fleshlight. A tight, soft silicone pussy that he hid in the back of his room. He lubed it up well, locked himself in his room and prepared to let himself go completely.

He lay down on the bed, with Yuuji's stolen shirt pressed against his face. He inhaled deeply, drugged by that smell of fresh sweat, warm skin and hormones. He had been hard and leaking for hours. He shoved the fleshlight in with one thrust and let out a hoarse moan.

—Fuck, Yuuji…! —he growled as he started fucking the toy hard. —So tight… so hot… shit, your little ass must feel like this, right?

He thrust his hips upward, burying his thick cock to the bottom of the fleshlight again and again, with wet sounds filling the room.

—Yuuji… My Yuuji, fuck… —he babbled like a madman, smelling the shirt desperately—. I'm going to break that virgin little ass… I'm going to fill you with cum until it drips down your legs...

He growled, moaned and panted the boy's name like a prayer. Each thrust was harder, more savage.

He imagined Yuuji underneath him, moaning, whimpering and begging for more while Satoru split him in two. That innocent little face destroyed by pleasure, that drooling open mouth… —I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk, Yuuji… you're going to be my personal whore…

He came like an animal. A brutal orgasm that made him arch his back, growling Yuuji's name through his teeth while filling the fleshlight with thick, hot spurts. So much cum that it spilled over his fingers. And yet… it wasn't enough.

In the vast Kingdom of Alythra, whose borders stretched from the eternally snowy mountains of the north to the pink forests that bloomed every spring in the east, Satoru Gojo reigned, the young monarch with silver hair and eyes bluer than the sky itself.

He was as powerful as he was capricious. The nobles and advisors insisted time and again that he needed an heir. The kingdom demanded continuity. They had prepared for him a harem full of noble ladies, princesses from allied kingdoms, and courtesans of legendary beauty.

Satoru didn't visit any of them.

"Why should I mind?" he replied with that arrogant smile that drove his ministers mad. "I'm comfortable this way. The kingdom is prospering, isn't it? Leave me alone."

No one understood why the king rejected them all. No one, except those who worked closest to him.

Because there was someone he did allow into his private quarters every night.

Yuuji Itadori, his personal cupbearer.

A young man with a radiant smile and pink hair like the petals of eastern cherry blossoms had been serving the king for two years. Officially, his duty was to taste each drink before Satoru, making sure it wasn't poisoned.

Unofficially… he slept in the same bed as the monarch, with his head resting on his chest and the king’s arms surrounding him as if he were the greatest treasure of the kingdom.

The funniest thing of all, and what caused confused murmurs in the court, was that Satoru Gojo hated wine. He hated it with a passion. Any kind of alcohol seemed repugnant to him. He said it clouded his senses and that he preferred to always be alert.

Therefore, when the lord of a distant southern kingdom, Valthor, presented him with an exquisite bottle of golden mead wine during an audience, the result was memorable.

"Your Majesty, this is the finest wine from my land. Sweet as honey, smooth as…" the lord began proudly.

Satoru took the bottle, sniffed it once, and without changing his expression, threw it directly at the man's head. The glass shattered against the lord's forehead, drenching him in sweet wine.

—Get out of my kingdom— she ordered in a cold voice. —And I'm never to see your face around here again. I can't stand the smell.

The poor lord was escorted out amidst the guards' barely suppressed laughter. From then on, no one dared to offer him alcohol again.

But Yuuji… Yuuji was different. Every night, after tasting the water or fruit juice that the king preferred, he stayed by his side. He would tell her absurd stories about cooking, imitate pompous nobles, and make Satoru laugh heartily, without that mask of superiority he usually wore.

Since Yuuji arrived, the king changed. He was no longer the cruel and arrogant monarch who executed advisors out of sheer annoyance. Now he was more generous, he reduced taxes for peasants, funded schools in villages, and smiled more openly at audiences. Rumors were circulating through the castle corridors:

«Since the pink-haired cupbearer arrived, Her Majesty has softened.»

«They say they sleep together…»

« ¡Impossible! The king needs heirs of royal blood..»

Satoru, of course, didn't listen to anyone. At night, he would hug Yuuji under the silk sheets, slowly kissing his neck and whispering to him:

—You're the only one I need around. The rest can go to hell.

Yuuji blushed, but smiled with a warmth that could melt even the oldest ice in the kingdom.

However, the problem of succession remained. The ministers were pressuring. The council was whispering. And Satoru, for the first time, began to consider an unconventional solution.

One morning, while Yuuji was still asleep in his arms, the king looked at the ceiling of his royal chamber and murmured to himself:

—…I will seek out the best sorcerer on the continent. The most powerful. The most discreet.

«If necessary, I will move heaven and earth so that my Yuuji can give me heirs.»

He smiled with that dangerous, lovestruck expression he only showed when no one else was watching.

—After all… what is a kingdom without a family made to my liking?

Y as the first rays of the sun tinged the hair of his cupbearer, Satoru Gojo, pink, King of Alythra, decided that for the first time in his life he would fight for something other than his own pleasure.

She would fight for a future where Yuuji was by her side, not as a servant, but as a consort and father to her children.

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Satoru Gojo convinced himself that the immense affection he felt for his student Itadori Yuji was purely paternal.

After all, he had started calling himself “dad” as a joke to his students, and Yuji had accepted the title with a warmth that filled the enormous void Satoru had carried since childhood.

What Satoru feels is not paternal love.

It is possessive, jealous, obsessive, and profoundly carnal.

It is everything he should not feel for his adorable student.

And now that the line between “dad” and “mine” has been broken, Satoru has no intention of ever letting it go again.

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Ao3 Link →

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Yuji wasn’t lying when he said he loved his Sensei.

After Gojo leaves for weeks on a mission, life feels empty, lonely, and strangely too quiet. Yuji, desperately seeking the affection and validation Gojo never gave him, finds an unexpected substitute: Geto Suguru.

Under the facade of “special training,” Geto begins teaching Yuji what Gojo never could: to be desired. Soon the lessons become intimate, intense, and loaded with dangerous codependency. Yuji is learning to be appetizing, unaware that he is only a piece on the chessboard of two ex-best friends.

When Gojo Satoru returns, his fury is not that of a worried teacher, but the raw, primitive jealousy of a god who smells another man’s mark on his possession. Through icy glares and glacial rejection, Gojo desperately tries to regain control.

The game has begun. And no one will come out unscathed.

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Ao3 Link →

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Satoru always knew that his love for Yuji was so deep it would be passed on to his heirs. What he didn’t expect was that his 16-year-old son — a perfect copy of himself, full of lust and jealousy — would start claiming his beautiful wife as if she belonged to him.

Hikaru imitates every caress, every bite, every possessive mark that Satoru leaves on Yuji… and does it with a playful but dangerous intensity. Satoru never shares — he never has — but now he has to watch his own brat rubbing against his mother, claiming what he considers his.

A silent war of jealousy, possession, and forbidden desire between father and son over the same person: the wife/mother both desperately want to possess.

Or:

Where Satoru has to compete with his son to see who fucks Yuuji better

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Ao3 Link →

Satoru likes to infantilize Yuuji.

What started as an accidental baby bottle turns into a slow, possessive exploration.

Satoru feeds that need in him with affectionate manipulation, while Yuuji lets himself be carried away without fully understanding why he likes being treated like his baby so much.

Ao3 Link →

Itadori Yuji is about to marry his lifelong girlfriend, Ozawa Yuko, but the father Satoru Gojo — the charismatic and “holy” priest of the town — keeps postponing the wedding with increasingly absurd excuses. What no one (except the two of them) knows is that Satoru and Yuji have been secret lovers for years.

Or:

Where Ozawa discovers that her fiancé is having an affair with the town priest

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It was the third time that month that Father Satoru had postponed the wedding date with excuses that, to Yuko Ozawa, sounded increasingly ridiculous and desperate.

She and her fiancé, Itadori Yuuji, were sitting in the small parish office of the village church, a quiet corner in Sendai where the scent of old incense and candles mixed with that of freshly brewed coffee. The afternoon light came in warmly through the foggy window, illuminating the dark wooden crucifix on the wall and the messy pile of papers on the desk.

Father Satoru —that tall man with impeccable white hair even on an ordinary day, blue eyes that seemed to see too much, and a smile that never quite managed to be innocent— wouldn’t stop talking. He talked about everything except what they had come to discuss: the wedding.

Yuuji had proposed to Yuko the previous spring, during a perfect picnic under the blooming cherry trees. The fresh wind ruffled their hair, the grass was a brilliant green, and the blue sky was dotted with fluffy clouds like cotton. Yuuji had prepared all her favorite dishes: tuna onigiri, homemade takoyaki (a little misshapen, but made with love), and a strawberry cake he bought at the bakery in the center. Between laughter and silly jokes, he took out the small red velvet box, opened it with trembling hands, and looked her in the eyes as he asked the question.

Yuko said yes almost before he finished speaking, tears rolling down her cheeks and her heart beating so hard she thought it would burst out of her chest. They had been together since their final year of high school: stolen kisses in the hallways, dates in the park, notes hidden in books. It was natural, inevitable.

The preparations were almost complete. They wanted something intimate: just family and close friends, a simple ceremony in that same church, Yuuji’s favorite chocolate cake with strawberries on top, a few elegant snacks just for the sake of it, and flowers everywhere —white roses and artificial sakura because the real ones had already fallen—. All that was missing was the date.

—Excuse me, Father Satoru… —Yuko raised her hand timidly, interrupting the priest’s monologue about the latest soccer match the parish children’s team had played.

Satoru’s blue eyes landed on her instantly, cutting off his laughter and animated conversation with Yuuji as if he had flipped a switch. He tilted his head, that polite smile that never quite convinced her curving on his lips.

—Yes, Ozawa-chan?

—The date… —she continued, gripping the handle of her bag—. Why do we have to postpone it again?

The air in the room suddenly thickened, as if someone had closed all the invisible windows. Satoru’s smile didn’t waver for a second. He let out a theatrical sigh, made an exaggerated pout meant to convey sadness, and opened his arms.

—Oh, kids! Why the rush? —he exclaimed, raising his eyebrows—. It’s too soon for you to get married. You’re still so young… What’s the hurry?

Yuuji shifted in his seat, hands clenched tightly over his knees.

—Father Satoru… —he began, his voice low and timid.

But Satoru raised a hand to silence him, with that feline grace he always had.

—Yuuji-kun… —he sang the syllables, stretching out the “kun” as if it were candy—. What’s the hurry? Organizing a wedding isn’t something you do in a day. I have masses to celebrate, the collection for the roof that’s falling apart, pending baptisms… —He counted on his fingers, addressing only Yuuji, as if Yuko weren’t even there—. Zenin-chan and Okkotsu-kun’s baby is getting baptized next week. We wouldn’t want little Iori to go without holy water on his little head, right?

Yuuji shook his head quickly, shrinking a little more in his seat.

—N-no, of course not…

—But we… —Yuko tried again, her voice rising in frustration. She gripped her bag so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Satoru raised his hand once more, cutting her off gently but firmly.

—Ozawa-chan —he said, looking her straight in the eyes. His voice dropped a tone, almost intimate—. God’s timing is perfect.

And then he winked at her. A slow, cat-like smile that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It wasn’t exactly a threat. It was something worse: possession disguised as a blessing.

Yuko felt a shiver run down her spine. Yuuji gave her a timid, apologetic smile, as he always did when things got uncomfortable. She could only sigh, sinking deeper into her chair.

The excuses for postponing the wedding flowed effortlessly from the priest’s lips because every time he saw Yuuji smile at Yuko, something inside him twisted like a rope about to snap.

Because for years, long before Yuuji had proposed to her, there had been nights when the priest would hang his cassock on the hook and Yuuji would show up at the rectory with silly excuses: “I came to confess,” “I need advice,” “I was just passing by.”

And they would end up talking until dawn, or not talking at all. Hands that brushed more than necessary, gazes that lingered too long, stolen kisses in the dim light of the sacristy when no one was looking.

Satoru knew it.

Yuuji knew it.

Yuko… was beginning to sense it.

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You can read the full story here:

Ao3 Link →

After the premiere of the most anticipated fight (Gojo vs. Sukuna) in the Jujutsu Kaisen series, Itadori Yuji and Gojo Satoru sit together in an interview full of laughter, tears, and behind-the-scenes anecdotes. Between jokes and hugs, Yuji confesses how much Gojo’s “death” hurt him, and the whole world goes crazy with new Goyuu montages. A story of pain, comfort, and affection that transcends the screen.

Ao3 Link →

Yuji only wanted money for university. Gojo only wanted a relaxing day at the spa. What neither of them expected: ending up sweaty, pressed against each other, panting each other’s names in a waxing room.

Yuji waxes his professor Gojo with hot wax… and ends up having sex with him on the same spa bed.

Part-time job: 10/10, highly recommended.

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Yuuji Itadori, at twenty-three, already knew what it felt like to have the weight of adult life hit him in the back of the neck like a bad joke. He lived in a small, noisy apartment on the outskirts of the city, sharing space with his older brother Choso—who always seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown—and his uncle Sukuna, who treated the place like his personal dojo and left weights scattered everywhere. Rent didn’t pay itself, university books cost a kidney every semester, and his comparative literature classes were draining his soul.

That night, after a double shift at the café he’d just quit (the boss had changed his schedule for the third time, and Yuuji could no longer make it to 8 a.m. without looking like a zombie), he collapsed in front of the old laptop Choso had lent him. The screen flickered with bluish light, illuminating the mess of his room: stacks of books covered in yellow sticky notes, a wrinkled Jujutsu High t-shirt he slept in, and the distant sound of Sukuna grunting in the living room while doing push-ups. “Shut up, brat, I’m focused!” his uncle had barked half an hour earlier, and the clang of weights hitting the floor still echoed like a war drum.

Yuuji sighed, rubbing his eyes. The cursor blinked on the part-time jobs page. He’d sent twenty applications in the last two weeks. Twenty. And every single one had come back with a “thanks, but no.” His stomach twisted with anxiety; the next payment for his Gender Theory and Contemporary Narrative books was due in ten days. If he didn’t find something soon, he’d have to ask Choso for money again… and he hated that more than anything.

He kept scrolling. Job after job. Waiter. Delivery guy. High school tutor. Nothing that fit his afternoon classes. He was about to close the laptop and give up when a bold ad jumped out at him:

Assistant wanted for premium waxing spa.

Flexible schedule 17:00–21:00.

No experience required (2-hour beginner course included).

Assistant only.

Relaxed atmosphere and good vibes!

Yuuji blinked. Waxing? Seriously? He let out a short, incredulous laugh that came out as a dry snort. The pay wasn’t bad. The hours… perfect. He finished classes at 14:00, had time to go home, shower, and get there without stress. Plus, it said “assistant only.” Handing towels, preparing creams, cleaning beds. Nothing crazy. How hard could it be?

He bit his lower lip, feeling that weird mix of hope and embarrassment rising in his chest. For a second he pictured a naked client and his ears heated up. “Nah… they’ll probably keep me out of the room when the serious stuff starts,” he thought, trying to convince himself. The cursor kept blinking, almost daring him.

From the living room came the sound of Choso humming softly while heating ramen in the microwave. Sukuna let out a rough laugh at something on his phone. Normal life.

Yuuji took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders to release the tension, and clicked “Send application.” The click sounded ridiculously loud in the silence of his room. Done. It was sent.

He flopped backward onto the bed without even turning off the laptop. Books dug into his back, but he didn’t move them. He closed his eyes and let exhaustion wrap around him like a heavy blanket. The ceiling fan spun with a soft hum, and from outside came the distant rumble of cars on the avenue. Tomorrow would be another day. Hopefully.

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The next day, sunlight poured through the apartment window when Yuuji got up with his hair a total mess and a phone notification that made him snap his eyes open.

Dear Itadori Yuuji,

Congratulations! You have been selected for the Spa Assistant position. We look forward to seeing you today at 17:00 for your induction mini-course. Please bring comfortable clothing and a smile. We’re excited to meet you!

Yuuji stared at the screen for a full second, mouth open, before letting out a muffled victory shout that made Choso poke his head out from the kitchen with one eyebrow raised.

“Did you win the lottery or what, little brother?”

“Almost,” Yuuji replied, grinning like an idiot. “I got a new job. At some premium spa or something…”

Choso just nodded, but there was a proud glint in his tired eyes. Sukuna, from the couch, grunted something that sounded suspiciously like “don’t wax your own ass at work, brat.”

:

By 13:50 Yuuji was already sitting under the old cherry tree on campus, back against the rough trunk and legs stretched out on the cool grass. The wind rustled the leaves softly, sending a few late pink petals drifting down like slow confetti. The smell of fresh coffee from the nearby cafeteria mixed with the sweet, slightly dusty scent of the sakura trees that refused to die completely. It was the kind of afternoon that made you forget exams, rent, and adult life for a second. Perfect for “touching grass,” as Nobara had christened it with that authority only she possessed.

Yuuji toyed with a petal that had landed in his lap, twirling it between his fingers while mentally rehearsing how to tell them about the job without sounding completely desperate. Or worse: without Nobara bursting into laughter and Megumi giving him that “I knew you’d end up in something weird” look.

Suddenly he heard footsteps. He looked up and there they came: Nobara with her pleated skirt impeccable and her bag slung over her shoulder like a declaration of war, Megumi trailing behind with hands in his pockets and that “I’m only here because I was forced” expression.

“Yuuji!” Nobara shouted from afar, waving like she was in a parade. “Have the mosquitoes eaten you yet or are you still alive?”

Yuuji jumped to his feet, grinning ear to ear, the petal forgotten as it fell to the ground.

“Kugisaki! Fushiguro! Finally! I thought you’d fallen asleep in Gender Theory.”

Megumi arrived first, dropping down beside Yuuji without ceremony, crossing his legs.

“It wasn’t that easy to escape. The professor kept talking about Butler and no one moved.”

Nobara settled in dramatically, spreading out the blanket she always carried (because “grass stains and I’m not a savage”), and sat cross-legged like a queen on her throne.

“Done. We’re here. Now spill, because your face is screaming ‘I have juicy news and I’m about to explode.’ Did you get a job or what?”

Yuuji scratched the back of his neck, ears already turning a little red with anticipation. He sat back down, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Yeah. I got it. The email came this morning. I start today at 17:00.”

Nobara raised a perfectly drawn eyebrow.

“And? Don’t make us beg, Itadori. Where? How much do they pay? Hours? Cash or food vouchers?”

Yuuji blurted it all out in one rushed breath, words tumbling like he’d been holding them in since he opened the email:

“It’s at a spa. Premium waxing place. The ad said ‘assistant,’ hours 17:00 to 21:00, perfect because I finish classes at 14:00. No experience needed, they give a two-hour mini course, and they pay… they pay well. Really well. Enough for next semester’s books and a bit extra. Assistant only: handing towels, preparing machines, cleaning rooms… stuff like that.”

He paused to breathe, looking at his friends with bright eyes.

Nobara stayed silent for a full second—which was rare—before bursting into laughter that made a couple of nearby students turn.

“Are you aware you’re going to have to wax pussies and asses?”

Yuuji literally snorted juice out his nose. He coughed, wiped his sleeve across his face, and felt his ears burn to the point of pain.

“Kugisaki, we’re eating…” Megumi muttered with pure disgust, though he still popped a piece of sesame chicken into his mouth like nothing.

Around them the campus buzzed: students rushing with folders, distant laughter, the hum of a drone from some photography club. But under the tree, the world felt smaller, safer. Nobara had insisted the “bad vibes” of the packed cafeteria weren’t going to ruin her good mood, so there they were.

“I don’t think they’ll make me do that on the first day,” he defended, voice a little higher than normal. His red ears gave everything away. “Besides, it’s probably laser… looks like a luxury spa. I’ll just hand towels and creams and that’s it.”

“But some girls prefer other methods…” Nobara snapped her imaginary chopsticks toward Yuuji like a sword. “There’s hot wax, cheap-smelling depilatory cream, classic shaving… and threading. That one’s for real masochists.”

She shuddered dramatically and Megumi rolled his eyes, though one corner of his mouth curved slightly. Yuuji felt his stomach knot with nervous laughter and pure terror at the same time. For a second he pictured a client screaming while hairs were yanked out with thread and had to shake his head to erase the image.

“Itadori’s right,” Megumi cut in, always the most sensible. “They’ll probably make you stay outside the room when the private parts start. Hand towels, clean, prep machines. Assistant stuff. They won’t throw you in headfirst.”

Yuuji let out all the air he’d been holding, shoulders dropping in relief. The knot in his chest loosened a bit.

“God, thanks Fushiguro…” he murmured, running a hand over his face. “Seriously, if they make me wax someone on day one, I quit before I even start.”

Nobara let out a crystal-clear laugh that made a couple of nearby students turn to look.

“Oh, Yuuji… this is going to be pure gold. I can already see you telling horror stories in the group chat. ‘Today I burned a lady’s ass with hot wax, 10/10 would recommend.’”

Yuuji groaned and threw a crumpled napkin at her, but he couldn’t help laughing too. The sun filtering through the cherry tree leaves warmed the back of his neck, the juice tasted sweet, and for a little while the stress of pending books and rent felt far away. Just for a little while. Because at exactly 17:00 he had to show up at the spa.

And something in the pit of his stomach told him this “perfect job” was going to complicate his life in ways he still couldn’t imagine.

Continue reading at...

Ao3 Link →

Yuuji had never been particularly observant… until he was.

It starts with something small, almost innocent: Gojo’s hands. Large, elegant, impossibly perfect.

What begins as simple curiosity quickly turns into obsession—and what Yuuji doesn’t realize is that Gojo notices right away.

Between glances, teasing, and silence heavy with tension, the two of them get caught up in an unexpected game.

A slow burn disguised as a joke, where everything left unsaid burns just beneath the surface.

Ao3 Link →

During a mission, Gojo mistakes Yuuji for an idol and ends up getting dragged into the entertainment industry.

Everyone loves him.

They adore the charismatic pink-haired ray of sunshine.

Gojo Satoru, however, hates the idea of his boyfriend being the center of attention across all of Japan.

So now Yuuji has to act like an idol—sing, dance, all that. Save his brother’s girlfriend from a curse… and, in the process, deal with his jealous boyfriend.

…

Or: Yuuji becomes an idol in the middle of a mission to locate a Grade 1 curse, Gojo doesn’t like it one bit, and somehow still has to deal with said curse just so he can have his boyfriend all to himself.

Ao3 Link →

•••

Gojo Satoru never believed in normal happiness—until Yuuji gave him everything he never knew he needed.

Years later, he watches from the garden as their four perfect children (two sets of twins—because why settle for less?) turn the backyard into a joyful mess.

Yuuji—his Yuuji—still makes his heart race like the very first day, even when she’s covered in flour baking banana bread or rolling her eyes at his dramatic pleas.

And when he wraps his arms around her in the kitchen and whispers, “I want more kids,” she sighs… but still says yes.

•••

Everyone says: “Oh, Satoru is head over heels in love with Itadori Yuuji, he’s completely crazy about her.” But no one seems to notice—or no one dares say it out loud—that Yuuji is just as hopelessly gone for him. You only have to see the way she looks at him. The way she gives in to absolutely every single one of his whims without even blinking. Yuuji can’t say no to Satoru Gojo. Plain and simple, she just can’t.

And of course, he takes shameless advantage of that with the happiest grin imaginable.

He gives her those big puppy-dog eyes, tilts his head, and Yuuji clicks her tongue, rolls her eyes… but ends up giving in in under ten seconds. Always. Because how are you supposed to say no to the love of your life? In what universe would she ever be capable of denying him anything?

To the misfortune of everyone around them (and the luck of absolutely no one else), Satoru Gojo wants more children.

The man seems to have a fucking breeding problem. Or maybe he just loves seeing Yuuji pregnant. Or both. Does anyone really care? No.

The higher-ups of the Gojo clan are in ecstasy. Finally more heirs from the guy they swore would never settle down, never have a wife or kids. And overnight: boom. First a perfect set of twins. Eleven months later—eleven damn months—another perfect set of twin girls. The clan practically sends them congratulatory cards every Christmas.

On an ordinary day at the mansion (which Satoru bought just for them, because a regular estate felt “too small” and Yuuji called him exaggerated until she gave in), he’s sitting in the garden watching his family like it’s the most beautiful show on the planet.

Hikaru and Ren, the six-year-old firstborns, are such an exact copy of Satoru it’s almost scary. The same electric blue eyes, snow-white hair, even the same nose shape. Satoru had secretly prayed they’d inherit Yuuji’s button nose; they would’ve been even more adorable. But no. The only thing that slipped through from mom’s genes were those sparse freckles scattered across their little faces like tiny constellations, just like hers. They’re perfect. Absurdly perfect.

The twins run around like maniacs on the improvised soccer field Satoru had built (because “my kids need space to become the strongest”). They yell, shove each other, laugh at the top of their lungs. Pure energy inherited from Satoru.

And then there are the girls.

Yuna and Himari. Another pair. Because of course—why settle for less? Satoru is convinced the heavens blessed him until he was sick of it. How else do you explain ending up married to Yuuji? His Yuuji: beautiful, warm, kind, loyal, funny, patient (beyond human limits), with that laugh that’s made his heart race since the day he met her. He could keep listing adjectives until sunrise, but he stops because he’d never finish.

The girls are another miracle. Yuna is almost identical to him: very long white hair, intense blue eyes, and that arrogant smile Satoru has worn since the day he was born. You can already tell she’s going to be the worst of the four. The queen of chaos.

Himari, on the other hand, is where Yuuji’s genes fought tooth and nail. Hair in a soft blend of his pinkish-white and Yuuji’s brown, her mother’s warm amber eyes, that adorable button nose, and cheeks covered in soft freckles. Right now she’s laughing hysterically because a butterfly landed on her forehead and refuses to leave.

Satoru frantically pats his pockets. Where the fuck is his phone? He needs a picture. Right now.

We’ve already established that Satoru was blessed by the heavens. It was also obvious he wouldn’t be a normal human being fathering children one at a time in his wife’s womb. No, god, he’s not that pathetic.

And Yuuji took it so well. Like everything Satoru could ever give her.

He knows it was hard for his little wife, the pregnancy, obviously. Her sixteen-year-old body—still not fully developed, still carrying that teenage sweetness—got hit with the bombshell surprise: pregnant with twins. Oops! Satoru had taken his early birthday present… and what a present.

But even so, Yuuji’s body adapted to carry their children. She fought the symptoms like a champion (they were intense, very intense; it wasn’t one baby, it was two). Those 3 a.m. cravings for impossible combinations—pistachio ice cream with kimchi, spicy ramen with chocolate, or that time she asked Satoru for a finger of Sukuna dipped in powdered sugar—Satoru remembers them as pivotal moments of his life. He’d run out to get whatever it was, at any hour, just to see her smile through the nausea.

Those fights over mood swings always ended the same way: Satoru on his knees in front of Yuuji, apologizing for being an asshole, tears in his eyes because he hated seeing her suffer because of him.

And Yuuji’s body… god. It changed in ways that drove him insane. Wider hips, thick pale thighs he’d swear he’d die kissing. Her breasts grew two sizes (and he wasn’t complaining). But the most beautiful thing in the world was that pregnant belly: big, round, just enough room for two children to grow inside. Satoru cried with happiness every time Yuuji wore those loose summer dresses; they made her look like a Greek goddess, ethereal and powerful.

He still remembers it like it was yesterday. Shit, he’d erase every damn memory he has just to relive that single moment over and over.

His little secret girlfriend walking toward him with unsteady steps, red eyes from crying so much, plush lips swollen from nervously biting them, flushed cheeks that made those constellation-like moles stand out even more. Yuuji barely saw him before she started sobbing, terrified and guilty, completely lost about what to do. She apologized for being so careless, told him her period was three weeks late, and handed him one of those cheap drugstore tests between hiccups and snot.

As if Satoru himself hadn’t been pumping inside her for the entire last month with only one thought in his head: “mine, mine, mine.”

Everyone was right: Satoru isn’t a good person. Sometimes no. Sometimes yes.

But he calmed her down. He swore eternal loyalty, promised her an entire world together. To hell with everyone else. All he cared about was Yuuji.

And right in the middle of all that perfection, the realization hits him like lightning: he wants more children.

He gets up from the garden chair, walks to the kitchen with determined steps, and finds Yuuji preparing the afternoon snack. Freshly baked banana bread, everyone’s favorite. Satoru had to learn to share it with his kids (not every battle is won).

He hugs her from behind, wraps his long arms around her waist, and rests his chin on her shoulder.

“I want more kids,” he says without warning.

Yuuji freezes. She looks out the window toward the garden, where the four little ones are running and shouting. Two full minutes of silence. Satoru’s pout grows and grows until it looks like he’s about to explode.

“Yuu, my love, please…” he whines, draping himself over her like a giant child, still not indecent, just dramatic. “Look at them. They’re perfect. Just one more. One. Pretty please…”

Yuuji rolls her eyes and lets out a huff. That same huff she’s been letting out for seven years every time she’s about to give in.

She loves him. Loves him with her whole chest. She knows Satoru grew up in suffocating loneliness in the Gojo estate, surrounded by people who only saw his power and never him. That’s why she can’t deny him a family. Not when he looks at her like she’s the entire universe.

“Just don’t complain when I insult you during my mood swings, got it?” she warns seriously, pointing the batter-covered spatula at him.

Satoru lets out a victorious squeal and hugs her tighter.

“Okay! Okay! I’ll be patient… But sometimes you’re so mean… Last time you made me cry…”

“I just called you a fucking idiot.”

“And a coward, pathetic, childish… You accused me of not loving you just because we ran out of strawberry ice cream…”

Yuuji covers his mouth with her hand.

“I’m already regretting saying yes.”

“Nooo, wait!”

No one was surprised when, a few weeks later, Yuuji—at twenty-two years old—announced her third pregnancy.

Satoru Gojo only asks for one thing in his next life: that it be exactly the same as this one.

Yuuji’s husband.

The father of her children.

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