The bass thumped through the walls of the sprawling Tokyo mansion, a sorority house party thrown by some cursed energy enthusiast who'd somehow wrangled half the jujutsu world into attendance. Neon lights pulsed in sync with the music, bodies grinding in the living room like a ritual gone wrong. You were there as a favor to a friend, a low-level sorcerer who'd begged you to show up and "keep an eye on things." But really, you knew why you'd come: the rumors. Gojo Satoru and Nanami Kento, the untouchable duo, rivals in every sense, were both supposed to be here tonight. And you? You'd been caught in their orbit for months, a dangerous game of flirtation and near-misses that felt like a cursed technique all its own.
Gojo was the chaos: tall, white-haired, blindfolded enigma with a grin that could disarm a special-grade curse. He'd corner you in hallways at Jujutsu High, his infinity buzzing against your skin like static electricity, whispering innuendos that left you flushed and furious. "Come on, sweetheart," he'd say, leaning too close, "admit it, you'd love to see what's under the blindfold." Nanami was the counterbalance: stoic, blonde, suit-clad precision, his 7:3 ratio applied to everything, including the way he'd eye you during missions, his voice a low rumble of approval or warning. "Focus," he'd mutter, but his hand would linger on your lower back just a second too long, sending heat spiraling through you.
Tonight, the tension was a live wire. You'd spotted Gojo first, lounging on a couch like he owned the place, surrounded by admirers but his hidden eyes locked on you the moment you entered. He beckoned with a finger, that cocky smile flashing. You ignored him, weaving through the crowd to the kitchen, where Nanami stood alone, nursing a whiskey, his tie loosened, a rare concession to the chaos. "Didn't expect you here," he said, his hazel gaze sweeping over your little black dress, the one that hugged your curves like a second skin, your dark coils cascading down your back.
"Same," you replied, heart pounding as you poured yourself a drink. The air between you crackled; you could feel Gojo's presence approaching like a storm front. Sure enough, he sauntered in, clapping Nanami on the shoulder hard enough to make the older man tense. "Nanamin! And our favorite little wildcard. What a coincidence."
Nanami's jaw tightened. "Gojo. This isn't the place for your games."
"Oh, but it is," Gojo purred, stepping between you two, his body heat invading your space. He leaned in, breath ghosting your ear. "Tell me, who's it gonna be tonight? The fun one or the stick-in-the-mud?"
Your pulse raced, a mix of irritation and arousal flooding you. They were always like this, competing, pushing, with you as the prize. But tonight, the alcohol buzzing in your veins, the throb of the music, it felt different. Dangerous. "Maybe neither," you shot back, but your voice wavered, and they both noticed.
Nanami set his glass down with a deliberate clink. "Or maybe," he said quietly, his hand brushing your arm, "we settle this properly."
Gojo's grin widened, predatory. "Now that's an idea. Upstairs?"
Your stomach flipped. What the hell were they suggesting? But you didn't protest as Gojo grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd, Nanami following like a shadow. The stairs creaked under your feet, the party noise fading as you reached a dimly lit bedroom, someone's guest room, bed unmade, door locking with a soft click behind Nanami.
The room spun slightly, not from the drinks but from the intensity of their stares. Gojo peeled off his blindfold, revealing those piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow in the low light. "Last chance to bail," he said, but his voice was rough, hungry.
You shook your head, adrenaline surging. "I'm not bailing."
Nanami moved first, ever the calculated one. He cupped your face, kissing you slow and deep, his tongue tracing your lips with precision, drawing a moan from you. Gojo watched, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness, his gaze burning. "Share nicely, Nanamin," he teased, but there was an edge to it, jealousy, challenge.
Nanami broke the kiss, spinning you to face Gojo, who claimed your mouth next: wild, demanding, his hands roaming your body, squeezing your ass through the dress. You gasped as Nanami pressed against your back, his erection hard against you, lips on your neck, nipping possessively.
"She's not yours," he murmured to Gojo, but his hands slid under your dress, fingers teasing the edge of your panties.
Gojo chuckled against your lips. "Not yours either. But tonight... maybe she's ours."
The words sent a shiver down your spine, fear and excitement twisting together. What if someone heard? What if this shattered everything, the fragile alliances at Jujutsu High? But their hands were everywhere now, stripping you bare: dress pooling at your feet, bra discarded, panties ripped aside by Gojo's impatient fingers.
They maneuvered you to the bed, the tension peaking like a cursed domain expanding. Nanami sat against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap, his cock freed from his slacks, thick, veined, throbbing as he guided you down onto him inch by inch. You cried out, the stretch intense, your walls clenching around him. "Good girl," he groaned, hands on your hips, starting a slow rhythm.
Gojo knelt in front of you, stroking himself, eyes locked on where you and Nanami joined. "Open up," he commanded, voice low and teasing, but his grip on your chin was firm. You parted your lips, taking him in, salty, hot, his length hitting the back of your throat as he thrust gently at first, then deeper.
The position was obscene, exhilarating: Nanami pounding up into you from below, each thrust hitting that sweet spot, while Gojo fucked your mouth, his hands in your hair. It was the Eiffel Tower, you arched between them, a conduit for their rivalry, their desires clashing through your body. Sweat slicked your skin, your moans muffled around Gojo, vibrations making him hiss in pleasure.
"Fuck, you take us so well," Gojo panted, pace quickening, his rivalry with Nanami fueling the frenzy. Nanami's fingers found your clit, rubbing in tight circles, his breaths ragged against your shoulder. "Come for us," he ordered, voice strained. "Show him how good I make you feel."
The competition pushed you over the edge, orgasm crashing through you like a domain clash, body convulsing, tightening around Nanami as you gagged on Gojo. They followed in quick succession: Nanami first, spilling deep inside with a guttural groan, then Gojo pulling out to paint your lips and chest, marking you as his.
Panting, spent, they collapsed beside you, the room heavy with the scent of sex and unspoken questions. Gojo smirked, wiping a thumb across your lip. "Round two?"
Nanami shot him a glare but didn't disagree. The tension lingered, unresolved, a new challenge begun.
The air in the guest room was thick, heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, the bass from downstairs a distant heartbeat thrumming through the floorboards. You were still trembling from the aftershocks, Nanami’s cum leaking slow and warm down your thighs, Gojo’s sticky release drying in streaks across your chest and lips. Your curls stuck to your forehead, lips swollen, body humming like a live wire. You thought it was over.
You were wrong.
Gojo’s laugh was low, dangerous, as he rolled onto his side, propping his head on one hand while the other traced lazy circles around your nipple, pinching just hard enough to make you jolt. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” His blindfold was long gone, those electric-blue eyes glowing in the dim light, pupils blown wide with hunger. “Nanamin’s all about efficiency, but me? I like to play.”
Nanami, still half-dressed, shirt unbuttoned, slacks pushed down just enough, sat up against the headboard, his usually perfect blonde hair mussed, a rare flush across his sharp cheekbones. He watched Gojo’s fingers on your skin with a clenched jaw, something dark and possessive flickering in his hazel eyes. “Don’t break her, Gojo,” he warned, voice rough, but his hand was already sliding between your thighs again, two thick fingers pushing his own release back inside you like he was claiming territory.
You whimpered, oversensitive, hips bucking involuntarily. “I, fuck, I can’t, ”
“You can,” Nanami cut in, calm but commanding, curling his fingers deep and stroking that spot that made your vision spark white. “And you will.”
Gojo grinned like a devil, leaning down to drag his tongue through the mess he’d left on your chest, lapping at his own cum before sucking a dark mark just above your breast. “Look at her, Nanamin. Already dripping again. Bet she’s thinking about how filthy this is, two of the strongest sorcerers ruining her in some random bedroom while the party rages downstairs.”
He wasn’t wrong. The risk clawed at the edges of your mind, door locked but not soundproof, voices and laughter filtering up from below. Anyone could come looking. Anyone could hear the wet sounds, the moans you couldn’t hold back.
Gojo shifted, kneeling between your spread legs, pushing Nanami’s hand aside just long enough to slap his cock, heavy, half-hard again already, against your swollen clit. The wet smack made you cry out, back arching off the bed. “Sensitive little thing,” he cooed mockingly, rubbing the head through your folds, mixing both their releases into obscene slickness. “You want more? Want us to really fuck you up?”
You couldn’t form words, just nodded frantically, nails digging into the sheets.
Nanami exhaled sharply through his nose, like he was losing a battle with himself. Then he moved, fast, decisive, flipping you onto your stomach with effortless strength. You barely caught your breath before he pulled your hips up, forcing you onto your knees, face pressed into the mattress. “Hands and knees,” he ordered, voice low and lethal. “Now.”
Gojo didn’t wait. He slid underneath you on his back, head between your thighs, gripping your ass to spread you wide. His tongue dove in without warning, long, filthy licks from your clit all the way up to where Nanami’s cum was still leaking out, groaning like he was starving. “Tastes like us,” he mumbled against you, voice vibrating through your core. “So fucking dirty.”
You screamed into the pillow, the overstimulation brutal, pleasure bordering on pain as he sucked your clit hard, two fingers plunging in beside his tongue, curling and scissoring.
Behind you, Nanami shed the rest of his clothes, finally, and you felt the blunt, hot pressure of his cock nudging your entrance again. He didn’t ease in this time. He slammed home in one brutal thrust, bottoming out with a grunt that sounded almost angry. “Still so tight,” he growled, fingers bruising your hips. “Even after taking both of us.”
They found a rhythm immediately, cruel, perfect sync. Nanami pounding into you from behind, each thrust forcing you down harder onto Gojo’s mouth. Gojo sucking and licking like a man possessed, fingers fucking you in time with Nanami’s cock, stretching you wider, filthier.
You were sobbing now, drooling into the sheets, body shaking violently between them. It was too much, too deep, too wet, too intense. Every nerve ending screamed.
Gojo pulled back just long enough to rasp, “Switch.”
They moved like they’d planned it, Nanami pulling out, Gojo sliding up, flipping you onto your back again. Now Gojo was behind you, pulling you up against his chest, one arm banded under your breasts, the other spreading your thighs wide. He sank into you slow this time, letting you feel every thick inch, his mouth at your ear. “Feel that? That’s me owning this pussy now.”
Nanami knelt in front of you, stroking himself, fully hard again, veins standing out, tip glistening. He didn’t ask. Just fed his cock into your mouth, one hand fisted in your curls, guiding you down until your nose pressed against his abdomen. You gagged, tears streaming, but he didn’t pull back, just held you there, throbbing on your tongue.
Gojo started moving, hard, punishing thrusts upward that jolted your whole body, forcing you to take Nanami deeper with every snap of his hips. “That’s it,” Gojo hissed, biting your shoulder hard enough to mark. “Choke on him while I wreck you.”
They used you like that, relentless, coordinated, no mercy. Gojo’s fingers found your clit again, rubbing viciously fast circles. Nanami fucked your throat in shallow, controlled thrusts, groaning your name like a prayer and a curse.
You came again, harder than before, vision blacking out, body seizing so violently they had to hold you up between them. Your muffled scream around Nanami’s cock sent him over, hot pulses flooding your throat as he pulled back just enough to let you taste him.
Gojo followed with a snarled “Fuck, ”, burying himself deep and spilling again, grinding against your ass like he wanted to fuse with you.
When they finally let you collapse, you were wrecked, shaking, covered in them, voice gone, thighs trembling uncontrollably.
Gojo laughed breathlessly, kissing your temple almost sweetly. “Told you round two.”
Nanami, ever the stoic, brushed damp curls from your face with surprising tenderness. But his eyes were still dark. “Round three,” he murmured, “when you can stand again.”
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