#goyu

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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.

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 →

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.

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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 →

Happy 36th birthday, Gojo-Sensei!! You will always be loved by your pink potato wife and the goyuus around the world! 🩵🩷🎁🎉