Chapter 1: The Bet
Chapter Text
The air in Gojo Satoru’s ridiculously oversized penthouse apartment – courtesy of the Gojo family trust fund, naturally – hung thick with expensive cigar smoke and the sharp tang of competition. Below, the glittering sprawl of Tokyo pulsed, but up here, on the 50th floor, the world narrowed to three figures: Gojo himself, lounging like a lazy panther on a white leather sofa; Ryomen Sukuna, radiating arrogant intensity from a sleek armchair, swirling amber liquor in a heavy crystal glass; and Itadori Yuji, perched awkwardly on a stool by the minimalist kitchen island, nursing a beer and feeling profoundly out of his depth.
Jujutsu Tech University wasn’t an average college. It was an elite institution for the gifted, the wealthy, and the downright bizarre. Gojo, despite being arguably the most brilliant professor of Theoretical Jujutsu Physics of his generation, treated it like his personal playground. Sukuna, his eternal rival since their own chaotic undergrad days, ran a shadowy corporate empire by day and indulged in every hedonistic pleasure imaginable by night. And Yuji? Yuji was just a first-year scholarship kid on the track team, blessed (or cursed) with freakish strength, a heart of gold, and an unfortunate tendency to attract trouble… or rather, attract Gojo and Sukuna.
Tonight’s trouble stemmed from poker. High-stakes, cutthroat poker fueled by top-shelf booze and bottomless egos. Sukuna had just cleaned Gojo out for the third hand in a row. The pile of chips in front of him mocked Gojo’s usually unflappable grin.
"Pathetic, Satoru," Sukuna drawled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in Yuji’s bones even from across the room. He tapped his cards dismissively. "Your tells are as obvious as your taste in eyewear. Predictable."
Gojo stretched, the picture of nonchalance, though a tightness around his eyes betrayed him. "Luck runs in cycles, Sukuna dear. Like your questionable fashion phases. Remember the leather chaps era? Haunting."
Sukuna’s crimson gaze narrowed. "At least I commit. Unlike your fleeting attention span. Especially," he paused, letting his eyes drift deliberately towards Yuji, who immediately felt his cheeks heat up, "when it comes to more… stimulating pursuits."
Yuji choked on his beer. "H-hey! Don't drag me into this!"
Gojo’s grin sharpened, transforming from lazy to predatory. He followed Sukuna’s gaze, landing squarely on Yuji. "Oh? Jealous, Sukuna? Noticed how our dear Yuji here actually enjoys my company? Unlike, say, everyone else you interact with?"
Sukuna snorted. "Enjoyment? The puppy wags his tail at anyone who throws him a bone. It’s endearing, in a tragically simple way." He took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving Gojo’s. "But it takes a certain… finesse… to truly own that kind of devotion. To make him beg. To unravel him completely. Something I doubt you possess the subtlety for."
The challenge hung in the air, thick and dangerous. Gojo’s blue eyes, usually hidden behind his blindfold but tonight exposed and glinting with dangerous amusement, locked onto Sukuna’s. Yuji’s stomach did a backflip.
This was bad. This was very bad.
"Subtlety is overrated," Gojo purred, leaning forward. "But since you’re clearly itching to prove your inflated sense of superiority… how about a real wager? Something more interesting than these paltry chips."
Sukuna raised an eyebrow, a slow, cruel smile spreading across his face. "I’m listening."
Gojo gestured flamboyantly towards Yuji. "Him. Our bright-eyed, bushy-tailed Itadori Yuji." Yuji squeaked. "We both want him. We’ve both… dabbled." He ignored Yuji’s strangled protest. "But who can really claim him? Who can seduce him, body and soul, make him utterly, irrevocably theirs?"
Sukuna’s smile widened, showing a hint of teeth. "A conquest game. Crude, but potentially amusing. Terms?"
"Six weeks," Gojo declared. "Full throttle. No holds barred. We use every trick, every bit of leverage, every dirty little fantasy we can conjure. The one who makes him crack, who makes him admit he belongs to them, wins."
"And the prize?" Sukuna asked, his voice dropping to a hungry murmur.
Gojo’s grin turned feral. "The winner gets Yuji. Exclusively. For as long as they want. The loser backs off. Permanently. And…" he added, leaning even closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially, "we document it. Push boundaries. Make it a spectacle worthy of our talents. The whole delicious, messy spectrum."
Yuji felt like the floor had dropped out from under him. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic bird in a cage. They were talking about him like he was a prize steer at auction, dissecting his potential reactions like lab specimens. Anger warred with a terrifying, unwanted spark of arousal deep in his gut. The sheer audacity of it, the casual cruelty… and yet, the explicit promises sent a forbidden thrill down his spine.
"Done," Sukuna said without hesitation. He raised his glass towards Yuji, a dark toast. "Prepare yourself, brat. You’re about to learn what true desire feels like."
"Hey! I have a say in this!" Yuji finally found his voice, standing up, fists clenched. "You can't just bet on me like I'm… like I'm property!"
Gojo turned his dazzling, terrifying smile on him. "But Yuji~! Where's your sense of adventure? Think of it as… an intensive course in advanced pleasure studies. Taught by the very best." He winked. "And don't pretend you haven't fantasized about both of us. We've seen the way you look."
Yuji flushed crimson, unable to deny the embarrassing truth. Gojo, with his impossible charisma and playful dominance, was magnetic. Sukuna, with his raw power and dangerous allure, was intoxicating. He’d had confused, heated dreams involving both. But this? This was manipulation on a nuclear level.
Sukuna stood, his presence instantly dominating the room. He walked towards Yuji, each step deliberate and predatory. He stopped inches away, forcing Yuji to tilt his head up. Sukuna smelled like expensive cologne, cigar smoke, and pure, unadulterated menace. He cupped Yuji’s chin, his thumb brushing roughly over Yuji’s bottom lip. Yuji froze, his breath catching.
"Your say," Sukuna murmured, his voice a velvet-covered blade, "is irrelevant. You're the prize. The game has already begun. All you can do is try to keep up… and enjoy the ride." He leaned in, his breath hot against Yuji’s ear. "And you will enjoy it. I’ll make sure of that."
He released Yuji with a final, possessive stroke of his thumb and turned back to Gojo. "First move is mine, Satoru. Try not to sulk too much when I break him early." With that, Sukuna strode out of the penthouse, leaving behind a chilling silence.
Gojo sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the sofa. "Such a drama queen. Always has to make an exit." He patted the space beside him. "C'mere, Yuji. Don't look so shell-shocked. This is gonna be fun!"
Yuji didn't move. He felt raw, exposed, and terrifyingly excited. "Fun? You just bet my… my sex life in a poker game!"
"Pfft, details!" Gojo waved a dismissive hand. "Think of it as… accelerated mutual exploration! With stakes! Makes everything more thrilling, right?" He pushed his white hair back, his blue eyes serious for a fleeting second. "Look, between you and me? Sukuna might be a brute, but he's got focus. I, on the other hand, have charm, creativity, and an uncanny ability to find the exact spot that makes you whimper." He grinned again. "You’re gonna have the time of your life, kid. Trust me."
Yuji didn't trust him. Not one bit.
But the seed had been planted. The challenge issued. The game was on. And a treacherous part of him, the part that craved the intensity both men promised, was already leaning in.
*****
The first salvos were subtle, insidious. Gojo, leveraging his position as the "cool professor," became impossibly tactile. A guiding hand lingering too long on Yuji’s back during an impromptu training session in the empty Jujutsu Techniques gym. Leaning over Yuji’s shoulder in the library, his breath warm on Yuji’s neck, his fingers accidentally brushing Yuji’s inner thigh as he reached for a book.
He’d whisper outrageous things disguised as academic queries: "Hypothetically, Yuji-kun, how would you react if someone immobilized you with rope and explored every inch with their tongue? Purely for theoretical binding applications, of course."
Yuji would stammer, flush, and try desperately to focus on his techniques while his body betrayed him with traitorous heat. Gojo’s laughter, light and teasing, would follow him out of the room.
Sukuna’s approach was more direct, leveraging his wealth and power. A sleek, black sports car would be waiting outside Yuji’s modest dorm after a late practice. "Get in," Sukuna would command, not a request. He’d take Yuji to exclusive, dimly lit restaurants where the staff treated Sukuna like a god and Yuji like a fascinating accessory.
Sukuna wouldn’t flirt overtly; he’d observe. His gaze would rake over Yuji like a physical touch –assessing, possessive, hungry. He’d ask blunt questions: "Do you like pain with your pleasure, brat?" or "Ever been tied down? Properly?" while cutting into a ridiculously expensive steak. He’d push decadent desserts towards Yuji. "Eat. You need the energy for what’s coming." It was intimidation laced with dark promise.
Yuji felt like a ping-pong ball. One moment flustered and giggly under Gojo’s playful, invasive charm, the next shivering with a mix of fear and illicit excitement under Sukuna’s smoldering intensity. He tried to resist, to maintain some semblance of control. He dodged some of Gojo’s more blatant gropes. He refused a few of Sukuna’s intimidating dinner invitations. But the pressure was relentless, and the curiosity, the sheer pull of their combined attention, was undeniable.
The first major escalation came from Sukuna, true to his promise of no holds barred. He cornered Yuji late one night in the mostly deserted East Campus library stacks. Yuji was searching for a book for his history class, the only sounds the hum of fluorescent lights and the rustle of pages.
"Lost, little brat?" Sukuna’s voice, close and low, made Yuji jump, dropping the heavy book he was holding. Sukuna caught it effortlessly with one hand before it hit the floor.
"Jesus, Sukuna! Don't sneak up on people!" Yuji hissed, heart pounding. The narrow aisle felt suddenly claustrophobic.
Sukuna placed the book back on the shelf, deliberately crowding Yuji against the metal bookcase. His body radiated heat. "I don't sneak. I arrive." His hand came up, not to touch Yuji, but to brace against the shelf beside Yuji’s head, caging him in. "You've been avoiding me. That displeases me."
"I've been busy," Yuji muttered, looking anywhere but at Sukuna’s intense crimson eyes. "Track practice. Homework. Y'know, college stuff."
"College stuff," Sukuna repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. He leaned in, his lips almost brushing Yuji’s ear. "Let's talk about my stuff. Specifically, what I want to do to you right here, surrounded by all this dusty knowledge." His free hand trailed down, fingertips ghosting over the fly of Yuji’s sweatpants. Yuji gasped, his body instantly reacting. "Imagine it. Bent over this shelf. These flimsy pants around your ankles. Me behind you, taking what’s mine. Would you be quiet? Or would you let the whole library hear how much you want it?"
Yuji’s breath hitched. The image was terrifyingly vivid. The risk of being caught, the sheer filth of it… it sent a jolt of white-hot arousal straight to his core. He could feel himself hardening against his will. "S-Sukuna… stop…"
"Stop?" Sukuna chuckled, a dark, rumbling sound. His hand pressed more firmly, palming Yuji’s growing erection through the fabric. "Your body says otherwise, brat. It’s begging for it. Just like you will." He leaned back slightly, his gaze raking down Yuji’s body with undisguised lust. "Think about it. The feel of the cold metal against your stomach. My hands holding you down. The sound… the slick, wet sound as I push into you. Deep. Hard. Claiming you right where anyone could stumble upon us."
Yuji whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. He was mortified, aroused beyond belief, and completely trapped. Sukuna’s dirty talk was a physical assault, stripping away his resistance layer by layer. "P-please…"
"Please what?" Sukuna’s thumb rubbed a slow, deliberate circle over the head of Yuji’s cock through the fabric, drawing another choked gasp. "Please fuck you? Please make you scream? Please remind you who you truly crave?" He dipped his head, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of Yuji’s neck. "Beg properly, Yuji. Let me hear you beg for it."
Yuji’s mind was a whirlwind of panic and desperate need. He couldn't… he shouldn't… but the pressure of Sukuna’s hand, the heat of his body, the filthy promises in his ear… "S-Sukuna… please…" he breathed, the words barely audible.
"Louder," Sukuna commanded, biting down gently on Yuji’s earlobe. "Who do you belong to?"
"Y-you…" Yuji gasped, the admission torn from him. "Sukuna… please…"
Sukuna’s triumphant grin was savage. He gave Yuji’s cock one final, punishing squeeze that bordered on pain, making Yuji cry out, before abruptly stepping back. The sudden loss of contact and heat was jarring. Yuji slumped against the bookshelf, trembling, his face burning with shame and unspent desire.
"Good boy," Sukuna purred, straightening his expensive jacket as if nothing had happened. He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and held it up. Yuji’s blood ran cold. Sukuna had recorded his voice – the desperate, begging whimpers. "Consider this a down payment. A little reminder for later… and perhaps for Gojo to enjoy." He smirked, pocketing the phone. "Run along now, brat. Track practice awaits. Don’t forget who made you beg first." He turned and walked away, leaving Yuji alone in the stacks, shaken, aroused, and feeling utterly owned.
*****
Yuji avoided Sukuna like the plague after that. The humiliation burned. The recording was a constant, terrifying threat. He threw himself into track, into classes, into anything to distract himself. Gojo, sensing a shift, pounced with renewed vigor. His touches became bolder, his whispers dirtier.
"Rough day, Yuji-kun?" Gojo asked brightly, cornering him after a seminar. He steered Yuji into an empty equipment storage closet near the gymnasium. "You look tense. All knotted up." His hands landed on Yuji’s shoulders, strong thumbs digging into the tight muscles. It felt surprisingly good.
"Just… training," Yuji mumbled, trying to shrug him off, but Gojo’s grip was firm, his massage skillful.
"Mm, I can feel it," Gojo murmured, his voice dropping to that intimate, dangerous purr. His hands slid down Yuji’s back, lower than necessary. "All that pent-up energy. Needs an outlet." One hand snaked around Yuji’s waist, pulling him flush against Gojo’s lean frame. Yuji could feel the hard line of Gojo’s own arousal pressing against his hip.
"Sukuna’s been playing rough, hasn’t he? Leaving you frustrated. Unfinished." Gojo’s other hand cupped Yuji’s face, forcing him to meet those intense blue eyes. "I don’t leave things unfinished, Yuji. I follow through." He leaned in, his lips a breath away from Yuji’s. "Let me show you how good it feels to be taken care of. To be worshipped."
Before Yuji could process the words, Gojo’s mouth was on his, hot and demanding. Skillful andoverwhelming. Yuji’s resistance crumbled instantly. The stress, the humiliation from Sukuna, the sheer need that had been building – it all surged forward. He kissed Gojo back, fiercely, his hands tangling in the professor’s impossibly soft white hair.
Gojo chuckled against his lips, the sound vibrating through Yuji. "There he is. Knew you had fire in you." His hands were everywhere – sliding under Yuji’s t-shirt, tracing the hard planes of his abdomen, squeezing his ass, pulling him impossibly closer. He broke the kiss, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down Yuji’s jaw, his neck, biting gently at the junction of his shoulder. "Want to see something fun?" Gojo whispered, his breath hot on Yuji’s skin.
He pulled a small, discreet-looking remote from his pocket. With a press of a button, the storage closet door hissed open a fraction, just enough to reveal a sliver of the brightly lit, empty hallway outside. "Exhibitionism 101," Gojo murmured, his eyes gleaming with mischief and lust. "The thrill of almost being caught…" He pushed Yuji back against a stack of folded wrestling mats, the material firm but yielding. "Stay right there."
Gojo dropped to his knees in front of Yuji with fluid grace. He made quick work of Yuji’s track pants and boxers, pulling them down to his thighs in one swift motion. The cool air of the closet hit Yuji’s exposed skin, making him gasp. The sight of Gojo Satoru, the most powerful man on campus, on his knees in front of him, was almost more shocking than Sukuna’s library ambush.
"Gojo-sensei…" Yuji breathed, a mix of shock and overwhelming arousal.
"Shhh," Gojo hushed him, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He leaned forward, his breath ghosting over Yuji’s hard cock. "Just focus on the view… and the feeling." He glanced meaningfully towards the cracked door and the hallway beyond. "Anyone could walk by… see the track star being serviced by his professor…"
Then Gojo’s tongue licked a long, slow stripe from the base of Yuji’s cock to the tip. Yuji’s head slammed back against the mats with a thud, a strangled moan escaping him. Gojo took him into his mouth, deep and slow, his tongue swirling expertly. The sensation was incredible – wet, hot, perfect suction. But the fear, the thrilling terror of exposure, amplified everything tenfold. Yuji’s eyes kept darting to the sliver of hallway. Every distant footstep, every murmur of voices from down the corridor sent jolts of panic and illicit excitement through him.
Gojo hummed around him, the vibration making Yuji’s hips jerk. He pulled off slowly, looking up at Yuji with heavy-lidded eyes. "Like that? Knowing someone might see?" He didn’t wait for an answer, diving back down, taking Yuji deeper this time, his hand coming up to fondle Yuji’s balls. His other hand reached around, fingers probing lower, tracing the cleft of Yuji’s ass. Yuji gasped, his legs trembling.
Gojo’s finger pressed insistently, circling his entrance. "So tight," he murmured, pulling off Yuji’s cock again, a string of saliva connecting his lips to the glistening head. "Bet you’d feel incredible clenching down on my cock… or Sukuna’s, I suppose. Though," he added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I hear he’s rather… direct. Lacks finesse." He leaned in again, his tongue flicking against Yuji’s slit. "I prefer to savor. To explore every sensitive inch." His finger pressed harder, breaching the tight ring of muscle just slightly. Yuji cried out, arching off the mats. "Especially back here…" Gojo breathed, his hot breath tickling the wet head of Yuji’s cock as his finger pressed in just a little deeper. "So responsive. Bet you’d love my tongue here, wouldn’t you? While Sukuna watches?"
The image – Gojo eating him out while Sukuna observed with those burning red eyes – was obscene, terrifying, and unbelievably hot. Yuji’s control shattered. "Gojo! Please!" he begged, his voice ragged. "More… please…"
"More what, Yuji-kun?" Gojo asked innocently, swirling his tongue around the head of Yuji’s cock. His hand was working a slow, steady rhythm along the shaft, while his other hand teased gently at Yuji’s entrance. "More of this?" He stroked a little firmer. "Or…"
He leaned down, withdrawing his finger, and instead let his hot breath trail lower — over Yuji’s perineum, then down to his rim. "This?"
Yuji barely had time to register what was happening before Gojo's tongue licked over his hole — wet, deliberate, and filthy. Yuji cried out, thighs twitching, his body lifting off the mats as the obscene sensation took over. Gojo’s hand never stopped stroking him, perfectly timed with the movements of his tongue.
It was too much — the rhythm of his fist, the slick heat of his mouth where no one else had ever dared, the raw vulnerability of being spread open while the door still hung half-open. The sensory overload hit like a freight train.
"F-Fuck! GOJO!" Yuji screamed, his whole body seizing up as he came hard, thick and fast into Gojo’s waiting hand. His hips bucked uncontrollably, his voice cracking as the orgasm crashed through him — raw, explosive, and so utterly overwhelming it almost bordered on pain.
Gojo stroked him through every pulse, squeezing just right, even as he pressed one last kiss to Yuji’s rim. When Yuji finally collapsed, panting and twitching, Gojo sat up with a smug little grin and licking his fingers clean.
With a click, the door finally slid shut, sealing them in darkness and the heavy scent of sweat and sex.
Gojo leaned over him, brushing a damp curl from Yuji’s forehead. His voice was low, warm. "See? Technique. Timing. Worship." He winked. "Gojo Satoru, full-service."
Yuji could only nod weakly, his mind a blissful, overwhelmed blank. The humiliation from Sukuna felt distant, replaced by a bone-deep satisfaction and a terrifying realization: Gojo was just as dangerous, just as manipulative, but he made the fall feel like flying. He cleaned Yuji up with surprising gentleness and helped him pull his clothes back on.
As they slipped out of the closet separately moments later, Yuji felt raw, used, and more confused than ever. Sukuna’s rough possession, the recording, the humiliation. Gojo’s skillful seduction, the public risk, the shocking intimacy.
Both had made him beg. Both had claimed a piece of him.
The competition wasn't just about his body; it was a war for his reactions, his shame, his pleasure. And he was losing himself in the crossfire.
He walked back towards his dorm on shaky legs, the phantom sensations of Sukuna’s hand and Gojo’s tongue warring for dominance in his mind. Who was worse? Who was better? The line was blurring terrifyingly fast. He thought of Sukuna’s dark promise, Gojo’s triumphant smirk. He thought of the bet. Six weeks. This was only the beginning. And the treacherous spark of arousal that flickered back to life in his gut, despite everything, told him the worst part: part of him couldn’t wait to see what they’d do next.
He paused outside his dorm room door, leaning his forehead against the cool wood. He was the prize. The pawn. The battleground. And the game had just gotten a whole lot dirtier. The hallway around him felt charged with potential danger… and potential pleasure. A messy quickie right here? He shuddered, remembering Sukuna’s library threats and Gojo’s storage closet exhibitionism. It felt inevitable. He fumbled for his key, the metallic click echoing in the quiet hall. As he slipped inside, closing the door on the world outside, one thought burned brighter than the shame or the confusion:
What the hell have I gotten myself into? And beneath it, a whisper: How much further will they go?
Chapter Text
Yuji slammed his dorm door, leaning against it like it was the only thing holding him up. The phantom sensation of Gojo’s tongue, slick, invasive, fucking perfect, warred violently with the memory of Sukuna’s rough grip and the chilling echo of his own recorded pleas in the library. His skin still felt too tight, humming with residual heat and shame. He slid down the door, landing hard on the cheap linoleum floor, burying his face in his hands.
What the actual hell am I doing?
Six weeks. Gojo’s insane grin and Sukuna’s predatory smirk flashed in his mind. Six weeks of being their personal fucking proving ground. He was supposed to be training, studying, maybe trying to get a date with someone normal, not caught between a hedonistic professor and a corporate kingpin who treated him like a chew toy. And the worst part? That treacherous spark deep in his gut wasn’t fear anymore. It was anticipation. A sick, twisted craving for whatever insane, boundary-obliterating thing they’d throw at him next. Sukuna’s recording felt like a bomb strapped to his chest. Gojo’s public blowjob in the equipment closet… that had been a masterclass in controlled terror and mind-blowing pleasure.
He’d begged both of them. Already.
“Fuck,” he muttered into his palms. The silence of the dorm was oppressive. He could practically hear Sukuna’s voice: ‘Run along now, brat.’ Or Gojo’s purr: ‘Feel worshipped now, sweetheart?’ He scrambled up, needing noise, distraction. He cranked up the crappy speakers on his desk, blasting some aggressive workout playlist. He dropped and started hammering out push-ups, focusing on the burn in his muscles, the solid thump of his fists against the floor. Anything to drown out the internal chaos.
It didn’t work. His traitorous body remembered the feel of cold metal shelves against his back, the hot suction of Gojo’s mouth, the terrifying thrill of the open door. He pushed harder, faster, sweat dripping onto the floor.
Control. I need control.
*
Control, as Yuji was rapidly learning, was a luxury he couldn’t afford. The game had shifted gears. Sukuna and Gojo weren’t just circling anymore; they were actively hunting.
Sukuna struck first, leveraging his weapon. It happened during Professor Mei Mei’s notoriously dry lecture. Yuji, already struggling to focus amidst the lingering haze of Gojo’s worship, was diligently taking notes when his phone buzzed discreetly in his pocket. An unknown number. A text link. Heart sinking, he tapped it, angling his phone low under the desk.
It opened a secure, encrypted video player. Black screen. Then audio filled his earphones – his own voice, breathy, desperate, choked with tears he hadn’t even realized he’d shed: “S-Sukuna… please… you… I belong to you… please…”
Yuji froze, blood turning to ice. He risked a glance across the lecture hall. Sukuna sat near the back, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit that screamed ‘board meeting’, not ‘undergrad lecture’. He wasn’t looking at Yuji. He was staring straight ahead, a faint, cruel smirk playing on his lips as he subtly tapped his own phone screen resting on his thigh. The audio in Yuji’s earphones cut off abruptly. A new text flashed up:
Unknown: Library stacks. 15 minutes. Don’t be late. Or this gets a wider audience. Starting with the puppy-loving Professor next door. - S
Mei Mei’s droning voice faded into white noise. Panic clawed at Yuji’s throat. Gojo. Sukuna would send it to Gojo. The humiliation would be nuclear. The image of Gojo listening to him beg for Sukuna, knowing Sukuna had gotten him to break first… it was unbearable. He shoved his notebook into his bag, mumbled an excuse about feeling sick to the startled student next to him, and practically ran from the hall. He didn’t look back, but he could feel Sukuna’s satisfied gaze burning into his retreating back.
The East Campus library stacks were deserted again, the air thick with dust and dread. Yuji paced the narrow aisle where Sukuna had first cornered him, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He flinched at the sound of measured footsteps. Sukuna appeared at the end of the row, looking infuriatingly calm. He stopped a few feet away, leaning against the shelves, his crimson eyes boring into Yuji.
“Prompt. Good.” Sukuna’s voice was low, devoid of its usual taunting edge. It was colder. More dangerous. “You understand the stakes now. No more avoidance. No more pretending you have a choice.”
“You can’t just blackmail me!” Yuji hissed, fists clenched at his sides, trying to summon defiance he didn’t feel.
Sukuna pushed off the shelves, closing the distance in two strides. He grabbed Yuji’s chin, forcing his head up. “I can. I will. And you will comply.” His thumb traced Yuji’s bottom lip, a mockery of tenderness. “Because the alternative is unthinkable, isn’t it? Gojo hearing you whimper my name? Seeing the proof that you broke for me first?” He leaned in, his breath hot against Yuji’s ear. “Today, brat, you learn about obedience.”
He released Yuji’s chin and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out something that made Yuji’s breath catch: a small, sleek black remote control.
“Open your mouth.”
“W-what?”
“Now, Yuji,” Sukuna commanded, his voice like iron. “Unless you want Gojo to receive a very interesting audio file right this second?”
Trembling, Yuji opened his mouth. Sukuna’s thumb brushed his lower lip again, then pressed the remote against his tongue. It was cold, smooth, vaguely metallic. “Hold it there. Don’t drop it. Don’t close your mouth.” Sukuna’s eyes gleamed with dark intent. “Consider it your gag. A reminder of who controls your silence.”
The humiliation was immediate and intense. Standing there, mouth forced open around the cold plastic remote, drool threatening to escape, felt infinitely worse than the begging. It was dehumanizing. Sukuna watched him, a predator assessing its immobilized prey. Then, he pulled out his phone again, tapped the screen, and held it up. It showed a live feed – a slightly distorted, low-angle view of Yuji’s face, his wide, fearful eyes, his mouth stretched obscenely around the remote. Sukuna had placed a small, discreet camera on a high shelf, pointing directly down at them.
“Exhibitionism takes many forms,” Sukuna murmured, pocketing his phone. He stepped closer, his hands going to Yuji’s belt. “Today’s lesson: restraint.” He unbuckled Yuji’s belt with practiced ease, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Yuji whimpered around the remote, trying to twist away, but Sukuna’s grip on his hip was vise-like. He pushed Yuji’s jeans and boxers down to mid-thigh, exposing him completely to the cold air and the unseen eye of the camera. Yuji squeezed his eyes shut, tears of shame pricking at the corners.
Sukuna’s hands roamed over Yuji’s exposed thighs, his ass, his hips – possessive, assessing. He traced the curve of Yuji’s ass cheek, then dipped a finger lower, circling his entrance, just like Gojo had, but without any hint of teasing exploration. It was a claim. “Still tight,” Sukuna observed clinically. “Good.” He withdrew his finger and stepped back slightly. Yuji cracked his eyes open, confused. Sukuna wasn’t touching him anymore. He just stood there, watching him on his phone screen, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
“Sukuna…” Yuji tried to mumble around the remote, the sound garbled and pathetic.
“Shhh,” Sukuna silenced him, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Hold the position. Let the camera see. Let me see.” He reached out with his free hand, not touching Yuji’s skin, but tracing a line in the air just above his straining cock. “Look at you. Exposed. Vulnerable. Mine to observe. Does it excite you, brat? Knowing I’m watching every tremor, every flicker of shame in your eyes? Knowing I could make this feed public with a single tap?”
Yuji shook his head frantically, a choked sob escaping him. No! But his traitorous body, fueled by adrenaline, fear, and the sheer intensity of Sukuna’s focused attention, was reacting. His cock, despite the humiliation, was filling, hardening against his will. He could feel the slickness of pre-come beading at the tip. Sukuna’s smile widened as he saw it on the screen.
“Liar,” Sukuna breathed. He finally touched him again, a single fingertip tracing the leaking head of Yuji’s cock, collecting the moisture. He brought his finger to his own lips, tasting it slowly, his crimson eyes locked on Yuji’s horrified gaze. “Delicious desperation.” He lowered his hand, his fingers returning to Yuji’s entrance, pressing in with sudden, brutal force.
Yuji cried out around the remote, the sound muffled but raw. It hurt – a sharp, stretching burn. Sukuna didn’t stop, working a single finger deep inside him with ruthless efficiency, scissoring slightly. The pain was intense, mixed with a shocking jolt of unwanted pleasure. The camera watched. Sukuna watched the camera. Yuji was utterly exposed, violated, and horrifyingly aroused.
“Beg me to stop,” Sukuna commanded softly, twisting his finger. “Beg me through the gag.”
Tears streamed freely down Yuji’s face now. He tried to shake his head, to hold onto some shred of defiance, but the pain, the exposure, the terrifying control Sukuna wielded… it was too much. He whimpered, a high, desperate sound around the remote, trying to form the words.
“Louder, brat. Let the microphone hear you.” Sukuna added a second finger, stretching him brutally. Yuji screamed into the gag, his body arching, his cock twitching painfully.
“Pphheeeasssshhh shtop!” he garbled, the words mangled by the remote and his sobs. “Sssukuunnnaa… pphheeeassse…”
Sukuna stilled his fingers, buried deep inside Yuji. He looked at the screen, then back at Yuji’s ruined face. “Good enough… for now.” He slowly withdrew his fingers, the drag agonizing. He plucked the saliva-slick remote from Yuji’s mouth, making him gasp. Sukuna wiped it carelessly on Yuji’s t-shirt. “Get dressed. Remember the recording. Remember the camera. You belong to me, Itadori Yuji. Your body knows it, even if your stubborn mind fights it. Next time, I won’t stop at fingers.”
He turned and walked away, leaving Yuji shaking, half-naked, and feeling utterly shattered. He fumbled his clothes back on, his fingers trembling violently. The phantom stretch of Sukuna’s fingers lingered, a cruel reminder. The camera, he realized, was still there, a silent, watching threat. He fled the stacks, the taste of humiliation and Sukuna’s control thick in his mouth.
*
Gojo found him an hour later, huddled on a bench overlooking the Jujutsu Tech track field, trying to find solace in the familiar sight. He didn’t look up as Gojo slid onto the bench beside him, radiating casual energy.
“Rough day, champ?” Gojo asked, his voice light, but his sharp blue eyes missed nothing – the redness around Yuji’s eyes, the slight tremor in his hands, the way he flinched at the sudden proximity.
Yuji just shook his head, staring straight ahead. He couldn’t talk about Sukuna. Not without risking the recording. The shame was a physical weight.
Gojo sighed dramatically, slinging an arm around Yuji’s shoulders. Yuji stiffened. “Sukuna’s been flexing, huh? Playing his heavy-handed games.” Gojo’s fingers traced idle patterns on Yuji’s arm. “He thinks dominance is about force. About breaking.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I know it’s about unraveling. About finding every hidden thread of pleasure and pulling it, slowly, exquisitely… until you come apart in my hands because you want to, not because you’re forced.” His thumb brushed the shell of Yuji’s ear. “You look like you need… gentler hands. A different kind of control. One that feels like freedom.”
Yuji closed his eyes. Gojo’s words were like a balm and a poison. Gentle hands? After Sukuna’s violation? But the promise of pleasure without pain, of control that felt like surrender… it was dangerously alluring. He was so tired of fighting.
“C’mon,” Gojo stood, pulling Yuji up with him. His grip was firm but not painful. “Let Professor Gojo take care of you. Think of it as advanced practical studies.”
He led Yuji not towards the equipment closet, but towards the faculty wing, to his own private office – a spacious, minimalist room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, a sleek desk, and a surprisingly comfortable-looking dark grey sofa. Gojo locked the door behind them with a soft click. The city lights twinkled far below, casting the room in a dim, intimate glow.
“Sit,” Gojo instructed, gesturing to the sofa. He moved to a discreet cabinet, pulling out a small, elegant box made of polished wood. Yuji watched, wary but curious, as Gojo opened it. Inside, nestled in black velvet, were several items that made Yuji’s breath hitch: smooth, polished glass plugs in graduated sizes; a coil of soft, black silk rope; a sleek, silver bullet vibrator; and a pair of padded black leather cuffs.
“Tools of the trade,” Gojo said with a playful wink, setting the box on the coffee table. “Tonight’s lesson: Sensory Deprivation and Focused Stimulation. Also known as… letting go feels really fucking good.” He picked up the cuffs. "Trust me, Yuji-kun?"
Yuji hesitated. Sukuna’s fingers, the camera, the remote… they screamed danger. But Gojo’s eyes held a different promise – intense, but not cruel. He looked at the cuffs, then back at Gojo. Slowly, almost against his will, he nodded.
Gojo’s smile was radiant. "Excellent choice." He stepped back, gesturing to Yuji’s hoodie. "Strip to the waist first. I want to see you properly restrained."
Yuji’s fingers trembled as he peeled off his hoodie and shirt, the cool air prickling his bare skin. Gojo his expression a playful warmth.
"Arms behind your back. Wrists together."
The leather cuffs encircled Yuji’s wrists with a soft click, snug but not tight. Gojo’s fingers brushed his inner arms as he fastened them, the touch deliberate enough to make Yuji shiver.
"Now the rest," Gojo murmured, fingers hooking into the waistband of Yuji’s sweats. "Unless you want to ruin these?"
Yuji’s breath hitched, but he lifted his hips, letting Gojo peel the fabric down his legs. The vulnerability was acute – naked except for his boxers, already half-hard from anticipation and shame. Gojo hummed approvingly, tracing the waistband.
"These too. I need access."
A beat of hesitation – then Yuji obeyed, kicking the boxers off. The sofa’s cool leather kissed his bare ass as Gojo guided him back, the ropes soon cinching around his chest in an intricate harness, pulling his shoulders back to arch his spine slightly.
"Perfect," Gojo breathed, admiring his work. His thumb grazed Yuji’s nipple, eliciting a gasp. Then, he picked up the smallest glass plug, slicking it generously with lube from a small bottle. “Now deep breath, sweetheart.”
Yuji tensed instinctively as Gojo guided the cool, smooth tip to his entrance. But Gojo’s touch was infinitely patient, applying gentle pressure, circling, waiting for Yuji’s muscles to relax incrementally before slowly, carefully easing the plug inside. It was a stretch, but nothing like Sukuna’s brutal invasion. It was full, insistent, but controlled. Gojo pushed it in until the flared base rested snugly against him.
“Good,” Gojo breathed, stroking Yuji’s flank. “Feel that? Just a presence. A reminder.” He picked up the bullet vibrator, turning it on. It emitted a low, steady hum. Gojo pressed it against the base of the plug, the vibrations transmitting deep inside Yuji, a low thrum against his prostate. Yuji gasped, his cock jerking to full attention against his thigh.
“Focus on that,” Gojo instructed, his voice a low murmur near Yuji’s ear. He moved around to the front, kneeling between Yuji’s spread legs. He picked up a long, narrow strip of black silk. “Now, the deprivation part.” Gently, he tied the blindfold over Yuji’s eyes, plunging him into complete darkness. The world narrowed to sound, touch, and the relentless, low vibration deep inside him.
Gojo’s hands were everywhere and nowhere. Feather-light touches traced his collarbones, his nipples, the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. He’d ghost his lips over Yuji’s neck, his breath warm, then withdraw without making contact. He’d run his fingernails lightly down Yuji’s chest, making him arch into the touch, only to stop abruptly. The vibrator hummed, a constant, maddening tease against his core. The plug felt huge, anchoring him. The cuffs and rope held him immobile, completely at Gojo’s mercy.
“Feel it, Yuji,” Gojo whispered, his voice seeming to come from different directions in the dark. “The vibration… the fullness… the way your skin craves the next touch… Focus only on the sensations I give you. Let everything else fade away. Sukuna’s crude games… the stress… let it all dissolve. There’s only this. Only pleasure. Only me.”
It was terrifyingly effective. Deprived of sight, bound, filled, and teased, Yuji’s other senses went into overdrive. Every brush of Gojo’s fingers was electric. The vibration became a pulsing center of need. He was hyper-aware of the cool air on his wet skin, the soft groan that escaped his own lips, the sound of Gojo’s quiet breathing nearby. He strained against the cuffs, not to escape, but to seek more contact. A low whine built in his throat.
“That’s it,” Gojo praised, his voice closer now. Yuji felt the heat of Gojo’s body near his cock. “Lose yourself. You’re safe here. Safe to feel. Safe to want.” A finger traced the weeping slit of Yuji’s cock, gathering pre-come. “Safe to beg… if you want to.”
The vibration intensified slightly. Gojo’s finger circled the head of Yuji’s cock, maddeningly light. The plug shifted inside him with a tiny movement, hitting his prostate dead-on. Yuji cried out, bucking against his restraints.
“Gojo! Please!” The plea tore from him, ragged and desperate. “Touch me… please!”
“Where, Yuji-kun?” Gojo’s voice was a velvet purr right in front of him. “Be specific.”
“My cock! Please… touch my cock!”
A warm, calloused hand finally wrapped around his aching length. Yuji sobbed in relief. Gojo’s grip was firm, perfect, stroking him slowly, deliberately, in time with the vibrations. “Good boy,” Gojo murmured. “So responsive when you let go.” He leaned forward, his lips brushing Yuji’s ear. “Imagine Sukuna seeing you like this. Blindfolded. Bound. Filled. Begging me for release. How would that feel? Knowing he’s watching you come apart for me?”
The image – Sukuna’s burning red eyes observing his complete surrender to Gojo – sent a jolt of forbidden heat through Yuji, hotter than anything before. It mingled with the intense physical stimulation, pushing him impossibly higher.
“He’d be furious,” Gojo continued, his hand speeding up, twisting on the upstroke. “He’d see how beautifully you unravel. How completely you belong to me in this moment.” He pinched Yuji’s nipple lightly, making him arch and cry out. “Cum for me, Yuji. Show me how good it feels to be mine.”
The combination – the perfect stroking, the vibrating plug hitting his prostate relentlessly, the blindfold, the bondage, the dirty talk invoking Sukuna – was too much. Yuji shattered. He came with a guttural roar, back arching off the sofa, cum pulsing hot and thick over Gojo’s hand and his own stomach. The orgasm was seismic, wiping his mind clean, leaving only blinding white light and the echo of Gojo’s voice: ‘Mine.’
He slumped back, boneless, gasping, sweat cooling on his skin. The vibrator was turned off. Gentle hands removed the blindfold. Gojo’s face swam into view, his blue eyes soft, a tender smile on his lips as he carefully unfastened the cuffs and rope, then gently removed the plug. He cleaned Yuji with a warm, damp cloth, his touch soothing.
“See?” Gojo murmured, brushing damp pink hair from Yuji’s forehead. “Finesse. Control that sets you free.” He helped Yuji sit up, handing him a glass of water. “Sukuna takes. I give. Remember that.”
Yuji sipped the water, his mind reeling. The intense, almost spiritual release he’d just experienced was worlds away from Sukuna’s harsh possession or the risky thrill of the storage closet. Gojo had made him beg, yes, but it had felt… different. Like a choice, even within the surrender. The shame was still there, but it was tangled up with a profound sense of relief and a terrifying vulnerability.
Who was he between these two forces? The broken toy or the worshipped idol?
Notes:
Sukuna’s idea of "romance" involves remote controls and psychological warfare, while Gojo prefers sensory deprivation and aesthetic domination. Poor Yuji’s just trying to survive this twisted game of "who can wreck him harder." (Spoiler: They’re both winning… for now.)
Who’s your favorite menace—Sukuna’s brutal ownership or Gojo’s velvet-gloved control? Drop a comment or scream into the void; I’ll be here with popcorn. 🍿💀