Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Tojo had seen him before, the one who had inherited the six eyes and infinity, the apple of the Gojo clan’s eye.

Gojo Satoru.

And the one who had caught Toji’s attention all that time ago, but things were different now. Who would have thought that Gojo would grow up to become such a beauty?

A pretty little thing that Toji wanted to keep for himself, to lock away somewhere far away, where Gojo could never escape—where the eyes of others wouldn’t be able to look upon the divinity that was Gojo.

Because Gojo would belong to him and only him.

No, he did belong to Toji, who was tearing his blade through flesh that gave way easily for him, letting him slice through Gojo like butter. It was laughably easy, strangely so. He was almost disappointed with how quickly the battle ended.

Leaving him to peer down at the angel he had plucked from heaven, tearing its wings off one feather at a time, until nothing was left but its true face.

It wasn’t enough.

Toji needed more.

He wanted Gojo to sing for him, to watch those pretty lips fall open with a wail, rather than the quiet whine that escaped them now. Those lovely eyes blinked sluggishly at the sky before they locked onto Toji when he stepped into his line of sight.

Beautiful.

Gojo Satoru was a breathtaking enigma, even soaked in blood and tears. He wanted to taste Gojo’s dying breath upon his lips while the light faded from his eyes.

It wasn’t a want anymore; it was a need.

“Not so strong now, are you, dollface?” he murmured, stepping closer to Gojo’s prone form, lips quirking up and heat—no, a desire so fierce that it almost left him gasping, coursing through him.

But it was his pretty angel that was truly gasping, blood spilling past trembling pink lips that he wanted to steal a kiss from.

Maybe later, Toji mused to himself, tilting his head and peering down at the beauty caught within his hands. At those eyes that locked onto him and, oh…

They were breathtaking.

That hate, rage, and bloodlust made Toji’s cock twitch in his pants. But it wasn’t just that, it was the agony and resignation that he could see within Gojo’s gaze at the reality that had befallen him that had heat settling within him.

The six eyes had lost to Toji, nothing but a monkey, and he only regretted that no one was around to see this moment. It would have been humorous to see the looks on the faces of the clan elders if he showed up with Gojo’s head.

“Ha, now that’s an idea,” Toji chuckled, crouching down and reaching out to brush Gojo’s bangs back. He couldn’t help the laughter that left him at the way Gojo twitched, as if he could escape what fate had already set in stone. “Hm, what? Don’t like me touching you, darling? I’d almost be offended, but… all you sorcerers are the same, aren’t you? All high and mighty… Where did your powers get you, hm?”

There was no answer from Gojo, nothing but a wet gasp, blood spilling from his pink lips and those glassy eyes fluttering. Toji wanted them on him for the rest of eternity. He wanted to pluck them out and keep them with him forever, to stop them from gazing upon another.

To keep others from coveting what wasn’t theirs to have.

But he didn’t want to damage Gojo any more than he already had. It would have been a shame to ruin something so beautiful. Yes, it would have been like ruining a pretty little porcelain doll, the kind that was meant to be behind glass, to be admired, rather than touched.

Keep your eyes on me, darling.

Though his hand still twitched at his side with the desire to take those breathtaking eyes, to ask the six eyes if he had seen this coming—if he had known that Toji would be the one to break him beneath his heel.

“Not so chatty now,” he mused out loud, letting his hand trail down from Gojo’s silken strands to his slim neck that was stained with blood.

Coating his hand in red from the gaping wound, and if Toji really wanted to, he could have torn it open further to find out what made Gojo tick. To see if he was as lovely on the inside as he was on the outside.

It was cruel of him, but Toji never pretended to be a good man or person. Maybe it was spite towards sorcerers, the clans, and the world that had him pressing a thumb into the wound. Dragging a muffled whine from Gojo, who shuddered at his unforgiving touch.

“Ngh,” Gojo gasped, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“What should I do with you?”

He couldn’t keep the smile off his lips in the face of Gojo’s suffering. Who would have thought that this would be so satisfying? There was an unlimited number of things that Toji could do, from leaving Gojo here to die beneath the blistering sun and completing his mission, or…

“Y’know, I should kill you here and be done with it. What a better way to spite the clans than to kill their prized weapon?” Toji said, pulling his hand back and ignoring the quiet whimper from Gojo at the harsh treatment. “But… where’s the fun in that?”

No, there were other things that Toji could do with Gojo. Something beyond scratching that itch within Toji that yearned to show the Zenins and the world, that didn’t believe in him, what he could do. That Toji could tame, destroy and mould what could have been the greatest sorcerer to his desires.

“I don’t work for free, but…” he murmured, watching Gojo’s eyes flutter, long lashes brushing against bloodstained cheeks as he lost consciousness. “You’re just too pretty to give up, sweetheart.”

Gojo had been the one that Toji had unknowingly allowed himself to be enraptured by all those years ago, a mystery and puzzle that he wanted to solve. There wasn’t any reason that he shouldn’t kill Gojo now. To nip this in the bud before the six eyes truly became a problem. Toji had heard all the stories, of how a previous ten shadow user had battled against a limitless and six eyes user, and how it ended in both of their deaths.

He wasn’t a good or kind man. Toji still couldn’t understand what Megumi’s mother had seen in him. But she had found something that she adored, enough that she fell for him and in turn he allowed himself to fall into her loving embrace.

A mistake, that was what it had been.

Because she was gone like so many others in his life and had left him with Megumi. His mind flickered to Megumi, the last piece he had of his wife and the gift that he had planned to sell to the Zenins.

Toji couldn’t do that to her, could he?

Even if he knew she was gone and wouldn’t be here to see his failures as a father, he didn’t want to desecrate her memory.

No, he never did.

It was a stupid idea that he had, that by selling Megumi to the Zenins, the greatest gift his wife had given him would have a chance at a better future. Megumi would have been ruined if he had stayed with Toji.

Even so, he couldn’t bear to part from him.

Not when he had the solution right before him, bleeding out and slowly dying with each passing second. He wouldn’t have allowed the time to come that Gojo would harm a strand on Megumi’s head and nor could he have fathomed the thought of handing his son over to the Zenins.

This would have killed two birds with one stone.

Toji wouldn’t slaughter Gojo here and now, but he would be the one to kill him one day. Only he would have had the honour of being the one to taste Gojo’s dying breath upon his lips while the light faded from those ethereal eyes.

Is what he told himself when he returned to the apartment, he lived in with Megumi hours later, with his son blinking up at him in confusion when he opened the front door. Eyes sliding from Toji and to Gojo’s prone form thrown over his shoulder. He was no doubt eyeing the state of Gojo, blood staining his shredded clothes and held by Toji like a sack of rice.

“Get me a bowl of water with a towel,” he told Megumi, pushing past him without another glance, focused on getting to his bedroom.

Where he laid Gojo down on the bed, uncaring of his sheets that were being stained red. But even like this, skin marred in bruises, wounds, and blood, Gojo still looked radiant. Face twisted in pain and pink lips parted, that Toji reached down to rub his thumb against.

“Welcome home, darling,” Toji whispered, pulling his hand back and taking a glance at the bedroom door. Ire sparked within him when Megumi was nowhere to be found. “Ah, little brat… Megumi!”

A sigh escaped him as he reminded himself to count down from 10, that Megumi was a child and, for whatever reason, Toji had decided not to sell him off to the Zenin clan. Not when he had found the perfect mother for him, the missing member of their family and the angel that had been running through Toji’s mind all these years.

It was a feeble plan that he had to force Gojo to become Megumi’s mother and shield, and yet, he would make it work for Megumi’s sake.

For his own sake.

Toji wouldn’t lie and pretend that he wasn’t trying to satiate his own desire, the lust that he could feel coiling in his gut in the face of Gojo’s beauty. There was something about Gojo that had him hooked without even having a taste.

He had wanted him, this foolish little doll, all to himself.

Would it have been so wrong for Toji to find his own enjoyment in this, while ensuring Megumi’s safety? Whose quiet footsteps sounded out from behind him, dragging Toji’s attention back to the present and away from his spiralling thoughts.

This would work; it had to. Toji wouldn’t accept any other alternative.

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He loved her with everything that he had. She had been the rising sun that he had awoken to every morning. That Toji held within his arms, and he had been her setting sun. The one who kept her safe and sound, just as she had made him whole and happy.

Toji would never have forgotten it, the sound of her laughter, that warmed his heart and filled it with emotions that he had never felt before.

Love.

Happiness.

Hope.

Relentless feelings that had left him breathless and confused. She had taught him what life was truly about, beyond the Jujutsu world and the Zenin clan.

She made him whole again and opened his eyes to a life where he could simply be Toji, and not the Zenin clan’s failure. She had seen him for who he really was and still… he had lost her.

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The days had turned into weeks before there was any sign of Gojo waking up. His body struggled to heal without the deft hands of a healer and from the damage that Toji had done. He had taken to watching Gojo when Megumi was at school or doing one chore or the other.

He had nothing else to do but watch the songbird that he had torn from the sky and chained to the Earth. The payment from killing the Star Plasma Vessel was enough that he had little worry about needing to take another job on for now.

Though Megumi seemed bemused, it was rare that Toji stayed idle at home and that the money he made wasn’t gambled away. Toji still wasn’t sure how to feel when Megumi had stared at him in confusion when he had handed him money to get groceries the other day.

More than Toji had ever given him before, enough that they wouldn’t go hungry and that they would eat well. A part of him could almost hear the ghost of his wife, scolding him for not taking better care of Megumi and himself.

But she wasn’t here, because she had left them—

No, she was taken from them by fate.

Could anyone blame him for seeking respite wherever he could find it? Even if it meant taking the six eyes and turning him into a little doll that would sing for Toji.

And he would.

He knew Gojo would give in. They always did and this foolish little doll was no different from the rest of humanity and cruel people like Toji.

Toji still couldn’t understand how his wife, the one light within the blight that was humanity, had loved him. Enough to marry him and make silly promises to grow old together, to build the family that Toji had so dearly wanted with him.

Even if he had denied it by pushing that desire, dream and hope down by burying it with his regrets and the memory of his wife all those years ago with a newborn in his arms.

“This is lunch for you and your guest,” he murmured, reading the note that Megumi had left for him on the counter about the two bowls of rice and fish in the fridge.

But he still had Megumi, the living reminder and memory of the one who had taken Toji’s heart, leaving a gaping maw in its place.

It was endearing how he could see the words Megumi had crossed out on the note. That he had gone with labelling Gojo as a guest, after he had crossed out the word mother. He wasn’t surprised that Megumi didn’t take to the idea of Gojo being his new mother well, but… Toji would accept it for now.

There was no other option, Toji reminded himself, turning towards the fridge to grab one bowl and removing the saran wrap from it. He didn’t expect Gojo to be awake, but he headed over to his bedroom anyway with the bowl, chopsticks, and a glass of water.

Gojo was thinner than before, with his body struggling to heal without being able to access the full extent of his powers, thanks to Toji. There was just enough trickling through to keep Gojo from dying and wasting away.

But even then, Gojo was still a pretty little doll that Toji could stare at all day, until the sun rose and set, an unfortunate beauty that had caught his eye. Who was glaring up at Toji from his bed when he entered the bedroom, clearly having just awoken.

“You.”

How cute, Toji mused, quirked a brow and giving Gojo a smirk as he dipped down into a parody of a bow. “Yes, me. Toji at your service, sweetheart.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say with how his little doll snarled at him, lovely lips tugging down into a scowl that did little to ruin Gojo’s beauty. If anything, he made a pretty picture, wearing one of Toji’s old sweaters that stopped mid-thigh.

It was a ratty old thing that he had in the back of his closet. It was almost irritating how even covered in healing wounds and nothing but a ratty sweater, Gojo was still gorgeous.

“Maximum output—” Gojo started to say, flinging his hand out in a familiar pose, eyes wide and filled with rage.

Toji wanted to fan the flames of that fury, to let it grow until it snuffed out when his little doll finally realized the futility of it all. That he was in Toji’s world and dollhouse now, nothing but a puppet with its strings tied around his fingers.

He would make it so that Gojo sang for him when he demanded it, no… more than that. The pretty doll would submit to Toji, who was the one who had torn the star that was Gojo from the night sky and crushed it within his palm.

Though he could see the exact moment that Gojo realized his powers weren’t answering his call when his lovely face twisted in confusion, annoyance, horror, and finally understanding.

“What did you do to me?” Gojo choked out, wild eyes darting down to his own body, hands scrambling to pull the sleeves of his sweater up, before they darted up to his neck.

To the collar that Gojo tugged at now, fingers brushing over the engravings on it, at the seals and finally understanding the reality of what Toji had done. His hands scrambled to the chain connecting the collar to the metal bars of the headboard, long enough that he could use the bathroom attached to the bedroom, but short enough that Gojo wouldn’t be able to escape this room.

And what a nifty thing that collar was, that Toji had stolen off a target he had killed years ago. He had thought little of it at the time and had thrown it in the pile of other treasures or nick knacks that he had collected over the years.

Who would have thought that he had the shackle that would tie the strongest to him forever?

“You sorcerers think you’re the strongest—the best and the ones honoured with powers that you don’t deserve,” he said, setting the bowl and glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed. “How does it feel to be powerless?”

Gojo moved before Toji could blink, lashing out with a kick aimed at his stomach, that he dodged with ease. Before ducking to avoid the punch that Gojo aimed at his head, making Toji step back with a laugh, eyes alight in amusement.

“Kitty’s got claws. Nice. Why don’t you show me what else you can do, hm?” Toji chortled, leering at Gojo.

Who twitched, only seeming to realize the state that he was in now, in nothing but a ratty sweater to hide his dignity, while in enemy territory.

“I don’t need my powers to kill you,” Gojo sneered, hand lashing out to grab the bowl and whip it at Toji’s head.

That Toji caught with ease, gaze sliding down to the mess on the floor with a sigh. Sometimes he got in over his head and it wasn’t as if he expected it to be easy to tame Gojo—to break and rebuild him to Toji’s design.

But that would take time and if there was one thing that Toji had, it was time. There was no reason to rush a good thing, not when a dessert as lavish as this deserved to be savoured.

Every. Single. Bite.

“My kid made that, y’know? I guess you’ll be eating off the floor then,” he declared, studying Gojo’s furious face.

At those eyes that flickered around the room, trying and failing to find anything that could save him. He wondered if his sweet little doll’s six eyes told him what Toji already knew.

That his powers were useless with that collar on him, he wouldn’t be able to use his abilities. Even so, Gojo was still dangerous, with or without his powers, Toji reminded himself, taking a step to the side to avoid the lamp that Gojo threw his way from the nightstand.

Letting it shatter against the wall; it would have woken Megumi up if the boy hadn’t already headed off to school. Maybe Toji would be stuck sleeping on the couch for longer than he expected?

Just until Gojo submitted and understood his place in this world.

In Toji’s world.

“You think the others won’t look for me?”

Gojo flinched back on the bed and bared his teeth when Toji took a step closer, laughter bubbling in his chest at how his little doll tried to keep a strong front on.

Cute.

“No. No, I don’t think they will… After all, they think you’re dead—that the Sorcerer Killer took the strongest down.”

Toji couldn’t get enough of it, how Gojo seemed to wear his feelings on his sleeve. Those breathtaking eyes danced with too many emotions to count before Gojo threw up a pathetic excuse for a mask. Adam’s apple bobbing and lips twisting in a grimace as he spoke a lie that neither of them believed.

“Suguru wouldn’t give up on me—”

“Ah, that friend of yours? Oh, kid, you don’t know what’s happened, do you?” it was false pity in his voice when he peered at Gojo.

Who matched his stare with a glare of his own, filled with a resolve that Toji wanted to destroy. To take apart, one brick at a time, until there was nothing left—until Gojo had nothing but Toji.

“What did you do to them?!”

“What I was paid to do… Riko Amanai is dead.”

“She was just a child, and you killed her! She didn’t even want to be—” Gojo started to say, grief clear in his eyes.

Perhaps it was cruel of him to hold that boy that Gojo seemed to adore over his head like this? That even though Gojo denied his words, the little doll knew Toji was telling the truth. That he had killed Amanai as he had been paid to do and without question.

“Hey, if the money is right, I don’t ask questions. But… since you’re just so sweet, I’ll tell you a little secret,” Toji singsonged, stepping back to avoid the swipe that Gojo took at him, aimed for his throat, something that would have killed a regular human. “That boy of yours has gone off and defected. Murdered a bunch of civilians and his own parents at that. And they say that I’m cruel.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’d say that I wish I was, but we both know that would be a lie.”

His little doll, filled with nothing but trust and belief in that friend of his, set his jaw in the face of the truth that Toji was forcing on him.

“Suguru wouldn’t—”

“But he did. He’s gone off and become the exact monster that you sorcerers hunt. Funny how things go, huh?”

He shouldn’t feel so much satisfaction in crushing the hope and joy within Gojo, of forcing him to look at the reality of the world. That life was ugly, and it wasn’t fair, not to Gojo and certainly not to Toji.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Hey, it’s no skin off my back if you don’t,” Toji shrugged, raking a hand through his hair, amused at how Gojo tracked his every movement.

“Fuck you!” Gojo sneered, ever the potty mouth.

It dragged a quiet chuckle from him at the dissonance between his little doll’s beauty and his personality. But as beautiful as Gojo was, he was still nothing compared to Toji’s wife.

Who had been stunning inside and out.

But who was gone.

Dead like so many others, leaving Toji in this wretched world with their son at his side. Trying to live and push through the desire between ending it all to join her or taking his wrath out on the world—of going back to the Zenin clan to bathe the halls in their blood.

“Maybe later, darling,” he muttered, mood souring and eyes darting to the picture frame on the nightstand.

One of the few that he had of the three of them, with his wife beaming at the camera with Megumi in her arms. His face twisted in a pout, while Toji held them both close with a smirk on his lips.

He could never go back to that time, no matter how much he wanted to.

Gojo flushed, anger settling over his face. “Don’t call me that!”

“Mhm, then how about, doll? No? Princess—or angel?”

It was too much fun pushing Gojo’s buttons to tug at his pigtails until he lashed out. Like he did now, his scowl deepening and that hate within his gaze growing.

“Stop it!”

“Make me, sweetheart.”

Toji’s lips curled when he ducked the glass of water that Gojo threw his way, that shattered on the floor behind him in the hallway.

“You need to work on your aim, princess,” Toji joked, tilting his head and watching Gojo’s hands twitch at his side.

No doubt with the desire to kill Toji with his powers that were out of his reach. He almost wanted it to happen, for Gojo to break free and fight him. To give Toji’s heart and mind a moment, however small, to think of anything but all that he had lost.

Gojo stilled for a moment before exhaling deeply, face falling carefully blank, but his eyes told Toji enough. He could see it, despite how hard his little doll tried to hide it, the fear and despair hidden beneath the rage.

“What do you want from me?” Gojo asked, and there it was.

That bloodlust that truly made Gojo the strongest, the one with the potential to destroy anything and everything, if he desired. Toji almost regretted that he was going to cut that part of Gojo out, one piece at a time, until the perfect doll was left in his place.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? But, since I’m feeling generous, I’ll tell you. My son needs a mother and, well… that’s you,” he crooned, taking one last look at Gojo and the mess left behind, before he turned to leave, uncaring of the squawk from Gojo at his admission. “Have fun eating off the floor, princess.”

“Wait—”

He didn’t release the breath that he had been holding in until the door shut behind him. How chilling was it for the six eyes, even trapped and weakened, to be such a force of nature?

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It was as if all the beauty in the world had been stripped away, leaving a barren wasteland, devoid of all hope or joy.

Sometimes Toji wondered why he kept going after his love had died, leaving him lost and broken in this world that had forsaken them.

But he was reminded, day after day, why he couldn’t join her in the afterlife. He had to protect and nurture the gift she had given him.

Megumi, their son and blessing.

So then, Toji would stay here, chained to this world by a promise to a ghost, while he waited for the noose to tighten around his neck.

All for her.

Anything for the one that he loved all these years.

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It was becoming a regular ordeal for Toji to tend to Gojo, giving him his meals and doing nothing but smiling or laughing in the face of his little doll’s anger. There wasn’t much left in this small room of his for Gojo to throw at him or try to smash his head in with.

But it was endlessly entertaining to Toji. How weak the strongest sorcerer was without his powers. Nothing but a beautiful flower that he had plucked from the Earth. A dainty thing that had been unable to fight back when its roots were torn from the Earth, and he was forced into a new home.

A prison that he couldn’t escape from, where Gojo was nothing but a pretty little thing to admire and adore, like Toji did now.

“Y’know, this hunger strike is only going to hurt you in the end,” he said, leaning against the bedroom doorway, arms crossed and watching Gojo glare at the bowl of rice with fish, as if it had personally offended him.

“Why do you care?” Gojo scoffed, sitting cross-legged on the bed and picking at the food with his chopsticks.

Toji shrugged, amused at how Gojo’s brow twitched at his next words. “I don’t. But my son needs a mother, so I need you to not die.”

“Can you fuck off!? I’m a man and I’m not his—” Gojo started to say, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes filled with disgust and hate, darting over to Toji.

“You are, and the sooner that you realize it—that you accept it—the better.”

He would never get enough of antagonizing his little doll. As childish as it was, it made Toji feel something other than the apathy that had entrenched itself in his heart.

“I won’t.”

“You will. You don’t want to see me mad, do you?”

There was that ever-present threat there, in his words, that he knew Gojo understood. Toji cared little about how unhinged he seemed for kidnapping Gojo and forcing him to playhouse. He wouldn’t regret it if it gave Megumi a better life, a chance to live and grow old in the way that his mother hadn’t been able to.

A chance to be free from fate.

“So, is that what you are, then?” Gojo laughed, bitter and tired, hands white-knuckled around the bowl and chopsticks. “A pervert that can’t find himself a woman that can put up with him? Not that I can blame them, you’re not a catch at all. Maybe take a shower once in a while.”

Adorable, Toji thought to himself, rolling his eyes and giving Gojo an entertained look. “You think a guy like me can’t get any woman that I want? It’s not a matter of getting or wanting a woman… I wanted you, so I took you. It’s as simple as that.”

The chopsticks creaked in Gojo’s grasp and seconds later they were imbedded in the wall where Toji’s head had been. Had he not tilted it to the side.

“I’ll kill you,” Gojo hissed, eyes narrowed into slits and Adam’s apple bobbing.

He reminded Toji of a cat, too pretty to be feral and yet all claws. A house cat that didn’t get its way, he decided, clicking his tongue and sending Gojo a fond look that he knew would drive his little doll mad.

“Aw, sweetheart, you keep saying that and I’m gonna think that you have a crush on me,” Toji cooed, eyes sliding to the picture frame on the nightstand again, before flickering to the wall behind it. At the scratch marks, no, it was tally marks etched into it. “You could have just asked how long it’s been before fucking my wall up. It’s been two months. Time flies fast when you’re having fun, doesn’t it?”

“Let me go!” his little doll demanded, his hand gripping the bowl in his lap, intending to throw it at Toji, no doubt.

“Nope.”

“You—” Gojo snarled, throwing the bowl at him just as he had predicted.

That Toji dodged easily by taking a step to the side. But it’s what he snatched out of the air seconds later, thrown by Gojo, that had his patience growing thin.

Toji was moving before he could think, setting the picture frame of his family on the nightstand while his hand snapped out to grab Gojo’s jaw. Using his body weight to force Gojo against the bed, grabbing both of his wrists in one hand to press them above his head against the bed.

“Get your hands off of me!”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he growled, jaw ticking and fury running through his veins. “I’m being a nice guy for now. But I can do whatever I want with you. No one is coming for you. The faster that you accept that, the better.”

Gojo writhed beneath him, snarling and spitting obscenities at him. It was like trying to wrangle in a wildcat, his annoyance building up when Gojo tried to knee him in the crotch again.

“You’re a monster—”

“Ha, takes one to know one, sweetheart—”

“Your wife is lucky that she died so she wouldn’t have to live with a—”

He could tell when Gojo realized he had made a mistake, that he made that thin band that was Toji’s patience finally snap. He manhandled Gojo, hands leaving bruises as he forced him face first against the bed. One hand still holding Gojo’s wrists above his head, while his other slid down to push up his sweater to bare his little doll’s body to his hungry eyes.

“W-wait! Stop—hey—that’s—”

Annoying.

Gojo was stunning, yes, but he was as irritating as he was beautiful. Toji almost had half a mind to cut out his little doll’s tongue to have some peace and quiet. But he adored it, didn’t he? This side of Gojo that fought back, even when Toji was the one in power here.

“I wish you hadn’t said that, princess,” Toji whispered, his words at odds with his feelings and actions, while he pressed a deceptively gentle kiss to the back of Gojo’s neck.

Making his little doll shudder, a yelp of fear escaping him when it finally hit him what Toji’s intentions were this entire time.

“D-don’t touch me!”

Toji wanted Gojo to hurt for dragging his wife into this. The purest and kindest soul. The one who he wished was at his side, that Toji would swap places with in a second if it meant that she would be alive.

His little doll knew what was to come, the realization settling in his eyes when Toji’s sucked a hickey into the back of his neck, while his hand tightened around Gojo’s wrists.

Dragging a pained whine from Gojo. “Don’t—”

He sighed, flexing his hand around Gojo’s wrists before the sound of bones breaking filled the small space alongside his little doll’s keen.

“Ah—s-shit—!” Gojo gasped, whimpering when Toji shifted, breath hot against his ear.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, nipping at Gojo’s ear and savouring how he cringed at his touch. “If you know what’s good for you, don’t ever speak of her again… or you won’t like what I’ll do.”

There was no sign that Gojo would behave or if he had learnt his lesson, not when Toji pulled away from him to eye him. His little doll was silent, face flickering with pain when Toji jostled his wrists and released them to step off the bed.

Allowing Gojo to pull his bruising and swelling wrists to his chest with a quiet groan. Toji almost wanted to punish his little doll more, to make sure that this lesson stuck, but he was content with Gojo’s silence for now.

He would leave Gojo in pain until he felt that his little doll had learned his lesson, then and only then would he contact Shiu Kong to send a healer his way.

Or perhaps it was better if Gojo healed on his own? Even if that would take time. It would be a reminder to Gojo that he was weak, and that Toji was the one who held his leash.

“I’ll have the kid help you eat when he gets home. Behave or you won’t like what I’ll do,” Toji grumbled, rolling his shoulders and sending Gojo one last look before he turned to leave.

The slight shudder that racked through Gojo was an answer on its own that satiated the rage within Toji, even if just a little.

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Toji hated him at first sight, didn’t he?

The six eyes user that had been handed all that he wanted or could dream of on a silver platter.

While Toji had to fight to survive in this broken world, struggling to keep himself going for Megumi’s sake.

For the ghost that haunted him in his every waking moment.

And yet, he could do nothing to quench this anger within him. This spite, hate and rage that he couldn’t figure out where to direct.

All the feelings that Toji felt towards himself, for being a failure from the very first breath he had taken in this damned world, to now.

He hated that he couldn’t just end it to be with her and get away from all that had hurt him in this life. Was he selfish, for wanting to pass her gift to the Zenins to free himself from this obligation and promise?

Toji knew he was going to do the unforgivable if he gave Megumi away. But there was no other option, not when he couldn’t bear to go on any longer.

Until he found that shooting star again, the one that he had wished upon all those years ago… Gojo Satoru, who carried the weight of the hopes and dreams of the world on his shoulders.

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Something had changed between Toji breaking Gojo’s wrists to now. His pretty little doll watched him warily, more than ever now. With fear in his every breath and eyes that Toji wanted to pluck out, locked onto him.

And only him.

He wasn’t sure if it was the broken bones or the intent behind Toji’s words, of the true reality of the reason Gojo was here. That he had caught Toji’s eye all that time ago and had stupidly added fuel to the flame—but it was different now, wasn’t it?

Once Toji had wanted to do nothing but tear Gojo’s heart out and hold it out for the world to see, to show that he spat in the face of the Zenin clan and all sorcerers. To prove that there was a reason for Toji to exist, that fate hadn’t been cruel in having him be born the way that he was to the Zenin clan.

A failure.

And yet, he would be the one who would tear every petal on the flower that was Gojo before he fully bloomed. It was only a pity that the world wouldn’t get to see the full powers that Gojo would have developed, Toji pondered, shoving the door to his bedroom open with little regard.

Smirking in the face of those blue eyes that snapped open and locked onto him when he entered the room in the dead of night. While Megumi was fast asleep down the hall, having sweet dreams and unaware of the desecration that was going to occur mere doors away.

It had been 3 months now since Gojo had joined their little family and a month since Toji had taught his little doll the first of many lessons. Gojo was silent, doing nothing more than shifting to the head of the bed, the furthest from Toji.

They both knew what this was.

The build up of that threat that was looming over Gojo since he first awoke in Toji’s home weeks ago, a when and not an if.

“Tell me, you a virgin?” he asked, reaching down to tug his loose black shirt over his head.

Throwing it onto the bed, entertained when Gojo didn’t even glance at it, his eyes fixated on Toji, Adam’s apple bobbing and a brittle smirk pulling to his lips at his question.

“Wow, you really have no game, do you?” Gojo snipped, though he couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice, nor the fear in those lovely eyes. “Sorry, but I’m not interested in deadbeats.”

“You really have a way with words, huh? Well, unfortunately for you, I am very interested,” Toji laughed, a part of him wondering and amused at his little doll’s words.

What had Megumi been sharing with Gojo in those private moments between them?

Nothing good apparently, but this was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For Megumi and Gojo to bond, to ensure that when the time came, his little doll wouldn’t be able to lay a hand on Megumi.

No, Gojo would throw himself down on the blade first before he harmed Megumi.

“Back off.”

“Or what?” he teased, forgoing taking his sweats off for now, intent on quenching the thirst that had been brewing within him since Gojo’s arrival.

Gojo set his jaw, eyes wide, and watching his every move.

They both knew how this would end, that his little doll was at a disadvantage, too weak from not being able to access his full powers, and a fragile thing now from lack of sleep. No doubt laying awake in fear of the night that Toji decided to take what he was owed and from not eating all his meals.

“We can do this the easy way or hard way, though… I prefer a bit of a fight,” Toji mused out loud, rolling his shoulders and pulling cuffs out of the pocket of his sweats, before darting forward just as Gojo struck out at him with a kick. It was laughably easy to manhandle Gojo, tall and slender, a waifish thing that Tojo pressed against the bed. He was breathless from the mirth bubbling in his chest when he grabbed Gojo’s still healing wrists, dragging a pained whine from him. “It doesn’t have to be difficult, sweetheart.”

“F-fuck you!”

“Mhm, what a shame. The hard way it is,” it was quick work to grab Gojo’s wrists and into the cuffs that he looped through the bars of the headboard. “Now don’t you make a sight.”

“You bastard—”

As much as he liked to hear Gojo spit words at him of all the ways that he would kill Toji, he didn’t want to have any reason for Megumi to be awoken. He had little desire to explain the birds and the bees to him, now or ever.

Toji snatched up his shirt, hanging off the edge of the bed, shoving it into Gojo’s mouth, who snarled around the makeshift gag. Words muffled and eyes narrowed while he thrashed beneath Toji, twisting this way and that, uncaring of damaging his wrists in his desperation to escape the inevitable.

“Ahh, now that’s much better, isn’t it?”

“Mmph!”

A smirk played at his lips, at the fear and rage in those eyes, that stared up at him with a plea, begging for mercy that his little doll wouldn’t ask Toji for. Gojo was proud in the same way that Toji was. He wouldn’t debase himself to ask for a pardon.

And Toji wouldn’t give it either.

Not when he needed to see the strongest crack and fracture beneath the depths of Toji’s grief.

Only then would Toji get the self-affirmation that he had been searching for fruitlessly all these years. The confirmation that he deserved to live and wasn’t a worthless failure like his clan viewed him as.

It was only a pity that Gojo would be the one that suffered the most as a result, caught in the crossfire of Toji’s own self-loathing and desire to spite those who had wronged him.

“Be a good girl and listen. I don’t need you waking Megumi up, so we’ll do this nice and easy,” he murmured softly, eyes crinkling at the defiant look that he got. “Aw, now don’t look at me like that, sweetheart. I can make it good for you if you ask nicely.”

He waited for a moment, putting a hand behind his ear mockingly and grinning at the muffled sounds that left Gojo.

“Rough and dirty then, huh?” Toji chuckled, reaching down to ruck up Gojo’s sweater.

Barring his trembling and scarred body to Toji’s eyes, that devoured the sight before him. Rough hands sliding over the scars he had left on Gojo’s form, a reminder that would follow his little doll to the grave.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered, laughing when Gojo recoiled at his touch.

At the hands that he brought down to that narrow waist, a groan leaving Toji when his fingers met in the middle like he had imagined. Fuck, how many nights had Toji thought of this lewd body, of finally snapping and bending Gojo over to take what he was owed?

Toji wasn’t one to play with his food, but this was a meal that was best savoured by letting it marinate to allow the flavours to deepen, that fear, anger, sadness and hate.

“Y’know, I’m not a bad guy. I could make this good for you, if you just listened,” Toji crooned, letting his hands grope at Gojo’s shuddering body, brushing them over a nipple and smiling at the muffled cursing from his little doll. “Ah, I thought so… But hey, who am I to judge? I like it rough too.”

He wasn’t a cruel man and Toji certainly didn’t want his dick to chafe by taking Gojo dry. He smirked when Gojo jolted and let out another stifled curse. Or maybe it was a plea, when Toji pulled a bottle of lube from his sweats. That he poured onto Gojo’s entrance after forcing his trembling thighs open, that tried to fight against his hands.

“Yeah, definitely a virgin. That boy of yours didn’t take it?”

Gojo thrashed beneath him, trying to twist and turn away from his touch. It was almost sad to watch the strongest attempt to stop the inevitable. The guillotine that had been hovering above Gojo’s head for so long now.

It was a shame. If Gojo hadn’t had the misfortune of being born into the Gojo clan or in this world of death and curses, he would have lived a good life. If Toji really thought about it, his little doll would have been snatched up by one modelling agency or the other.

Rather than being forced to become Toji’s whore.

“Beauty, brains and power… You’re the whole package, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Toji mused out loud, his hand lashing out to grab Gojo’s ankle when he twisted out his hold to kick out at him. He sighed, rolling his eyes while his hand clenched around Gojo’s ankle. The threat was clear. “Behave or… well, I’ll make what I did to your wrists look like child’s play.”

He already knew what choice his little doll would make, that Gojo understood fighting back would only lead to him suffering more and lowered his already slim chances of escaping. His body was unable to heal, and his powers were out of his grasp with that collar around his lovely neck.

Truly, he didn’t hate a good fight and combine that with sex, well… who was Toji to complain? He liked to say that he fucked like he fought, rough and with only the desire to find his own release.

“Well?” he pushed, eyes crinkling in delight, as he turned his head to press a kiss to Gojo’s ankle. “I’d hate to break my favourite toy, but…”

The threat hung in the air while Toji savoured the tremor that went through that stunning body, those breathtaking eyes widening and overflowing with disgust.

And that fear that filled the empty space where Toji’s heart had once been.

That made the hurt and ache a stifled thing, something that Toji could push to the back of his mind and pretend that it didn’t exist.

Gojo went lax, jaw clenched and gaze, so full of fire that Toji wanted to use to warm his frigid soul, sliding away and to the side. Fixated on the picture on his nightstand, the one that he would awake to every morning.

Every reminder of her made that raw and aching wound on Toji’s soul throb.

“Mhm, three’s a crowd, don’t you think?” Toji muttered, releasing Gojo’s ankle to lean over and set the picture frame face down.

It did little to ease the strange twinge in his chest, not when all he could see was his wife’s pretty smile and face. She would be disgusted with what he had become, wouldn’t she?

But that was then, and this was now.

Toji couldn’t go back to that time. There was nothing he could do to bring her back, nor could he be the person who she once loved.

The man who had promised her the world and more.

Not when he was setting his hand on pale thighs, sliding them up to the prize between them, a quiet and bitter laugh escaping him when Gojo jerked at his touch. His little doll spasmed when he eased a finger into that tight and slick heat.

He almost regretted using lube. It would have been nice to see little doll bleed for him. Maybe another time, Toji decided, eyeing how his finger disappeared inside Gojo.

Who was frozen, body tense and eyes clenched shut, as if by blocking out the sight of what was happening to him would make it nothing but a bad dream.

If only life was that simple.

He would let his little doll have this moment of peace while Toji played with him, just until the last course arrived.

There was no sound from Gojo, nothing but a quiet hitch of breath, his jaw ticking and legs tensing when Toji slid in a second finger in next to the first.

It was too soon. He had barely given Gojo time to adjust when he pulled his fingers out, but in his eyes, his little doll should be grateful that Toji had prepped him at all. Though it was a shame that Gojo’s cock stayed limp.

Maybe next time he’d make sure that they both enjoyed it?

But for now, Toji wanted this first time to hurt.

Toji needed to debase Gojo, the divine being that had enraptured the Jujutsu world. An angel that Toji had dragged to the hell that he called his home, a place filled with nothing but misery and regret. But Gojo still refused to give him the honour of seeing those beautiful eyes when Toji readied himself to take him.

Something that he wouldn’t allow, not when he had been patient and had waited years for this moment. He knew the moment that he laid eyes on Gojo all those years ago that he had to break him.

That Toji had to destroy not just who Gojo was, but what he represented.

The being who changed the world with his mere existence.

And he would.

He eased his already hard and leaking cock from his sweats, grabbing the lube to pour what was left on it. A huff of amusement escaping him unbidden at the sight of his cock, that he stroked next to Gojo’s. It was too big for his little doll to take with ease and yet he would take it because Toji would make it so.

It was too silent and with a glance down he understood the cause of Gojo’s silence. His little doll was trying to escape. He could tell that Gojo’s mind was drifting away somewhere far from here, where Toji’s touch and words couldn’t reach him.

A game of hide and seek that Toji wanted no part of.

“Eyes on me, darling,” Toji cooed, stroking his cock and gently cradling Gojo’s jaw, his thumb brushing against bitten red lips.

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Gojo was safe here, in this fractured and pathetic world that he had created in his own mind years ago, when he was nothing but a young child.

A world within himself, where he spent his days with his parents, who were shortly joined by Suguru and Shoko. He knew he was too old to do such childish things, escaping when things became too hard or when the hurt became too much for him to handle.

He had been raised to be a weapon, the Gojo clan’s prized jewel.

Yet, in reality, he was nothing but a tool to be locked away when its use was over. Maybe if Gojo behaved and listened like a good weapon should, they would let him see his parents again?

His father and mother, who he could barely remember and yet he yearned for them. For them to protect and love him as parents should.

He would be safe with them, unmarred and untouched by this cruel world.

All he wanted to do was stay here, held against his mother’s bosom, while she spoke soft words to him, with his father, Suguru and Shoko at his side.

“Satoru, we’ll find you. Don’t give up,” Suguru whispered, voice low and followed by Shoko’s quiet murmur.

“Don’t give up. Aren’t you supposed to be the strongest?”

“It’s okay, Satoru,” his mother’s voice cut in, alongside his father’s promise to him. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Lies, he wanted to weep, to look up at his parents and ask them why they hadn’t protected him.

Where were they when he needed them and yet… he couldn’t bear to look up.

Not when it would break this fragile illusion of his.

They would be faceless, because he couldn’t remember what they looked like, nor the sound of their voices or touch. It hurt to think that he was playing a game of make believe, even as he clung to his mother even more, tears dampening her shirt.

This was all that he could do to keep himself from breaking further at the hands of the one who would ruin him forevermore.

In here, he was just Satoru, not Gojo, the six eyes or—

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“Eyes on me, darling.”

He refused to open his eyes, not when Gojo could pretend that he was anywhere but here, trapped in this rundown place with the Sorcerer Killer of all people. Who had treated Gojo with nothing but cruelty, delighting in his pain and savouring the sight of his tears.

Would Suguru and the others judge Gojo for not fighting back more?

For not spitting in Toji’s face when the man had threatened to break his ankle and instead giving up with a quiet hitch of breath? It was one thing if his wrists were broken, but if Toji broke his ankle, then escape would truly be out of Gojo’s reach.

His wrists ached, a constant throbbing and reminder that he tried to push to back of his mind when he had realized that his powers weren’t answering his call. That he wouldn’t be able to heal this injury away, no matter how hard he wished to.

Gojo was nothing but a sitting duck.

One that Toji wanted to break.

“Silent treatment, huh? Cute,” Toji chuckled, brushing his thumb against Gojo’s lips one last time before pulling away.

This was going to hurt, Gojo knew it would. He knew what sex was, but it was a foreign idea to him.

A need that he never felt, nor did he ever want to quench.

But he wasn’t going to get a choice here, was he?

Figures that this damned world wouldn’t even let Gojo have this. That fate had decided that he needed to suffer more. Or maybe this was his punishment for failing Riko, Suguru, and so many others?

For failing to meet the expectations that the world had of him.

But he’d never truly know, would he?

His teeth clenched around the makeshift gag in his mouth when Toji shifted, and it was seconds later that he felt hands settling around his waist. Making it ache when they tightened around it, as if Toji wanted to pop him like a balloon.

Wouldn’t that be a way to go, Gojo mused darkly, shuddering when Toji didn’t just shove it in like he expected the man to. No, he was slowly easing the head of his cock to his entrance and even without seeing it, Gojo knew it was big.

Much too big.

He wanted to weep, break down and call for his parents—for the mother and father that he had been pilfered from, the ones whose faces he couldn’t remember.

If he could speak, maybe Gojo would have been able to talk his way out of this? But he knew that there was nothing he could do. Not when Toji planned to defile him, since he had first set his eyes on Gojo.

Gojo should bite his tongue off and be done with it. He wouldn’t survive this. Physically, he was sure that he would heal eventually. The human body was a tenacious thing.

But who he was, here and now, would die.

If Suguru was here, then there would be nothing to fear because his best friend would never let anything happen to him or—

“Loosen up or this is gonna hurt a lot more, sweetheart,” Toji’s husky voice cut in through his spiralling thoughts, hands clenching around his waist when he started to press into him.

It hurt.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt—

This was a pain that Gojo had never felt before. It hurt like all wounds or injuries did, but this was soul destroying. It was pure agony lacing up his spine when Toji didn’t give him any mercy, continuing to press into him, even while Gojo’s back arched and tears fell from his clenched eyes.

He could have lived through the pain, pushed it to the back of his mind like any other injury, but Gojo wouldn’t be able to forget the feeling of those hands, rough and large, on him.

Leaving bruises everywhere they touched and a feeling of disgust that slithered beneath his skin. It felt as if Gojo was burning from the inside out by the time Toji bottomed out with a quiet grunt.

“Shit… Ha… So tight.”

All he could see was darkness. His eyes clenched shut as tears escaped them and slid into his hairline. He didn’t want to think of what kind of expression Toji had on his face while he tore him apart.

Gojo didn’t want to see the pleasure that Toji was getting from debauching him.

“Let me see those pretty eyes, darling,” Toji crooned, shifting and making pain spark from between Gojo’s legs.

Dragging a pained groan from Gojo, stifled by the makeshift gag, that he was grateful for at this moment. He would have screamed and begged for mercy if it wasn’t there, something that he knew would only satisfy Toji all the more.

He refused to give Toji the satisfaction of hearing him beg, even if Gojo could do nothing about the tears that fell from his eyes.

Though he couldn’t stop himself from flinching when Toji’s hand touched his face, cradling his cheek and rubbing soothing circles against it with his thumb.

Just like how a lover would.

Disgusting, he wanted to rage, to use blue to take Toji apart. Hell, he would tear Toji apart with his bare hands if he could. Gojo had never hated anyone like this before and nor had he ever wanted someone dead like he did now.

“If you want to make this difficult, then…” was the only warning that he got before Toji’s hand shifted and he felt a thumb pressing against his right eye.

He didn’t want Toji to take that from him too.

His eyes snapped open, blinking rapidly to see past the tears, until his sight cleared to reveal Toji. Who looked as if he had won the lottery, face awash in amusement, hunger and that familiar light in his eyes that Gojo had seen when they first fought.

Toji was having the time of his life, wasn’t he?

Gojo hoped Toji could see the hate that he had for him in his stare, that slid down to the space between them.

To where, much to Gojo’s horror, his stomach was…

It looked wrong, and it was almost enough to make him gag when his eyes snapped away from it to Toji’s pleased smile.

“Look at how well you’re taking me, sweetheart,” Toji cooed, pulling his hand away from Gojo’s face to wrap around his waist again.

Thumbs pressing against the distention in Gojo’s lower abdomen, dragging a pained whine from him. It felt as if Toji had gutted him, that the man had taken that blade of his and cut Gojo open again.

His agony only seemed to turn Toji on more, with how he leered down at Gojo and pulled out to slam back in again. Starting a rough pace that made Gojo’s body jolt with every thrust and the headboard slam against the wall.

If he knew that the mission would have ended like this, with him being raped by Toji, then he would have never accepted it.

Should have, would have, and could have.

There were too many things that Gojo regretted and there was nothing he could do to save himself from the hell that he was in now. After all, he was supposed to be the strongest, the one who changed the world with his birth, and yet…

Here he was, a bird in a gilded cage with its wings clipped.

“Fuck, ha, you sure that you’re a virgin?” Toji grunted, dragging Gojo’s body towards him to meet his thrusts.

He wasn’t sure what hurt more, the old injuries from Toji or the space between his thighs, that felt like it was on fire. There was no escaping this. No matter where Gojo turned or looked, he was always led back to Toji.

Who was inside him, spearing him open and fucking into him as if his sole goal was to drag out every drop of pain that he could from Gojo.

“Mmph!” he groaned behind the gag, biting down on it when the agony only worsened.

Toji cared little for his pain and tears, not when the man leaned down, breath hot against Gojo’s neck while he kissed a searing path to his jaw. That he nipped at before lapping at the tears that coated his face, savouring every teardrop like a man dying of thirst.

“Tasty,” Toji snickered against his jaw, leaving another hickey on his neck before he pulled away. Sweat coating his body, face flushed and filled with a hunger that made Gojo want to disappear. “You like my dick that much, huh?”

The bastard was monologuing, Gojo reflected, trying to force his mind to drift elsewhere again. Somewhere far from here, where he was safe and nothing hurt, like with Suguru and Shoko, who always saw him for he really was.

“Gonna keep you forever and—”

Who treated Gojo like he mattered and not like everyone else had thus far. They saw him as human and not a weapon.

“Fuck you all day—”

Yet he had never felt more human than now, nor as vulnerable, unable to save himself or be the weapon that he was meant to be.

“You’re mine—”

His mind was being pulled back to the present when Toji pressed his legs to his chest, folding him in half and rutting into him. It made his whole-body ache, old and new injuries alike.

God, he wished Toji had just killed him and left him to rot beneath the blazing sun. Anything would be better than this.

Should he be worried that he felt as if he was here, but not?

As if Gojo was watching his body being ruined by Toji like a spectator to his own ruination. One that could do nothing but watch Toji chip away at his heart and soul until nothing was left.

Until Gojo was nothing but a ghost of himself.

He knew what was coming before it happened when Toji’s hands clenched at the back of his thighs, sweat dripping from his forehead and onto Gojo’s heaving chest as he pounded into him with a single-minded focus. He wasn’t even sure if Toji saw him as human. No, the man only viewed him as a glorified fuck doll, didn’t he?

“Gonna knock you up,” Toji growled, muscles rippling while he thrusted into him erratically, getting closer to finding his release while Gojo drifted closer to the edge. “Fuck, ha, never gonna let you go—”

Why had he been born?

It was a strange and sudden thought that struck him as he sobbed behind the gag in his mouth, staring past Toji at the cracked ceiling.

What was the point of Gojo’s existence?

Wasn’t he meant to be nothing but a weapon?

And yet, what kind of weapon broke, wept and failed like he did?

Gojo wished for an escape as sweet as death.

Toji’s thrusts stuttered, a groan leaving him when he stilled inside Gojo, filling him with his disgusting spend. It was a revolting feeling, as if poison was eating away at his insides, burning his organs away until he was left an empty husk.

If Gojo called for his parents, would they save him?

No, they wouldn’t, and even if they did, they would do nothing. Because Gojo was a failure, a weapon that was dull and broken, who was no longer useful.

The reality of it hurt that they cared so little for him, but he was still loved, wasn’t he? By Suguru and Shoko, if he called for them, would they come to his aid?

They wouldn’t, would they?

Not when his dearest friends thought Gojo was dead and when Suguru had defected, if Toji was to be believed. But he knew, with every fibre of his being, that Toji hadn’t lied about this.

This was the one truth that Toji had told him.

After all, Toji had been nothing but honest thus far, hadn’t he? Toji had done all the things that he told Gojo that he would, nothing more and nothing less.

He wished Toji had just lied to him and given him false hope.

Toji pulled out of him roughly, releasing his legs to let them fall onto the bed like a puppet with its strings cut. He had little care for Gojo as he shifted and got off the bed with that satisfied smile ever-present on his damned face.

Gojo wanted to claw at it, to dig his nails into flesh until Toji bled.

“You were a good fuck, sweetheart. I’ll give you that. A solid… let’s say, 8 out of 10? We’ll work on it though,” Toji teased, tucking his cock back into his sweats, before scratching at his stomach with a yawn and glancing at the clock. “Ah, shit… Megumi’s a light sleeper. The kid’s probably awake.”

Ah, right… Megumi, the sweet boy that Gojo had seen shortly after he awoke in this place and the one who helped him eat his meals while his wrists healed. He should have felt mortified at the thought that Megumi may have overheard what happened.

But Gojo couldn’t get his sluggish and pain filled mind to care or string a thought together. Not when all he wanted to do was wash away this filth that would forever stain his skin and insides.

He would never be clean again.

Not in this life or whatever came after it.

Gojo would remember Toji in his every waking moment from here on out, wouldn’t he?

The man who killed Riko, hurt Suguru and had destroyed Gojo.

Who was going about his life as if he hadn’t just raped him in this home that he shared with his son.

If he had anything to throw up, he would, Gojo deliberated, flinching when Toji reached over to remove the handcuffs from his aching wrists. He doesn’t move immediately, frozen and his eyes locked onto Toji, peering down at him with a curious look on his face.

“I expected more of a fight. Can’t say that I’m not a bit disappointed,” Toji said, spinning the cuffs on one finger before he turned to make his way to the bedroom door, only stopping when Gojo spoke after pulling the makeshift gag from his mouth with a trembling hand.

“Why?” he rasped, eyes locked onto Toji’s broad back.

There were too many questions that he wanted to ask and yet all Gojo wanted to know was… Why him? What had he done to deserve this cruelty, for Toji to forgo killing him and instead choosing to debase him like this?

Breaking, warping and bending, Gojo into something that he couldn’t recognize anymore.

Toji stilled, his hand halting in spinning the cuffs around, with his back still facing Gojo. He wanted to see his face, to know what the man who ruined him looked like when he gave him this truth.

“Because I wanted to discredit it. To crush it. The pinnacle of the Jujutsu world,” Toji murmured, voice deceptively soft. “But Megumi needed a mother, and that’s where you come in and… well, what can I say? I think that I just wanted to keep you to myself. You’re pretty and I like pretty things.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

A part of him wanted to snarl at Toji for having the audacity to feed him such a sorry excuse. He wished he could see Toji’s face, to uncover if this was a feeble lie or the truth.

All he felt now was emptiness.

There was nothing else that Gojo could muster up. The rage within him had simmered out, still burning, but muffled by apathy, even as he whispered his own promise to Toji.

“I’ll kill you.”

“Hmph, don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” Toji chuckled, a husky thing that only made Gojo’s stomach flip with disgust. “Sit tight. I gotta check on the kid.”

He couldn’t keep the nausea down when the door shut behind Toji, the chain connecting his collar to the bed rattling when he scrambled to lean over the edge of the bed. Where he threw up what little that he ate. It had to be nothing but bile, the smell acidic as he bit at his lip to muffle the keen that wanted to escape him.

If he could just get out, then everything would be fine.

Gojo would run far from here. He would forget about Toji and his son with those sad eyes. Megumi, a gift, and yet he could only pity him for being Toji’s spawn.

For being damned to this life with the Sorcerer Killer as his father.

Megumi was like Gojo, another unfortunate soul that was forced to play this game of house with Toji. They were nothing but toys for the man to twist and distort to his desires.

A doll, that was what Toji was treating him like.

Something that was pretty to look at, seen and not heard, he reflected, mind straying back to what his clan had told him. That he was to listen, obey, and be seen, but not heard.

And yet, where did that get him?

“S-shit,” he whimpered, wiping at his mouth with the Toji’s shirt, before curling up on the sheets stained red and white, hands tucked close to his chest.

Everything hurt in a way that he never thought was possible, but it was deeper than that. There was an ache inside his heart.

No, his very soul. Something had changed and fractured in a way that Gojo couldn’t put back together again.

Gojo would never be free of this trauma that Toji had chiselled into his very bones and soul. What was the difference between a doll and a weapon, when in the end they were made to be used, Gojo mused distantly, chest rattling with sobs.

Things were supposed to be different when Gojo had gotten older and stronger, when he became more than just a pretty face to be controlled.

But nothing had changed, had it?

He was still nothing but a puppet, strings held taut and wrapped around his neck like a noose. Gojo would never truly be free of Toji, even if, no, when he escaped, the man had left his mark on him forevermore.