Archive of Our Own ^beta

The room is quiet.

Soft light warms the floors, the breeze creeping through the open door, brushing against the far corners of bookshelves and side tables. The wind catches a far off chime, its musical tone playing across the vast silence that encapsulates the Zen’in estate. The weather is supposed to be fair for the entire weekend- no showers or ill timed chill to ruin the absolutely divine atmosphere.

Time seems to stand still, an infinity given physical form and shape. Giving it a word, a description, a meaning- would only ruin the purest form that Fushiguro Toji has painstakingly perfected. After all…

It’s so very rare that he’s able to get peace and quiet with Gojo Satoru around.

He stills, taking in the warmth of the sun’s rays, eyes trained on the golden sunset bleeding into the horizon with artistic strokes. The clouds that do dot the sky are far and few between, streaking in whites and pinks that do, indeed, foretell good weather the next day. Quiet. Still. Serene.

There’s the creak of wood beams, ropes twisting, and the slight crackle of electricity mixed with a muffled moan.

Toji’s features twitch. How many times does he have to teach the kid to just be quiet for once in his life? He turns, choosing instead to take in the sight that he’s laid out for himself. He’s sure the black rope that is currently woven around Satoru’s body wasn’t meant for this but, the moment he heard that crackling as it touched the Infinity that almost constantly surrounded the Six Eyes user- he absolutely knew he had to see what he could get away with. The black rope was like silk, catching the light in entirety and swallowing it whole without giving any back to the eye. It was mesmerizing to look at head on, even more so against the milky white expanse of Gojo Satoru’s naked form.

It was a perfect contrast, added on by the slight pink that was beginning to form where he kept squirming, the fibers rubbing the skin to slight irritation. He hung suspended, blindfolded, his ears muffled so no senses were left. Toji made sure that, due to the Black Rope, he couldn’t use his Six Eyes to see around the blindfold, and Toji wondered if this would be the final breaking point that drove the teen mad. Not that he was really solid of mind to begin with, but who was Toji to judge considering his own family history.

The rope coils around Satoru’s muscles like a snake, writhing with every minute movement and twitch of his limbs, seeming to tighten with every flinch and inhale of breath. The braided bit of leather that is lodged between his teeth is glistening with saliva, and Toji can sometimes see the tip of his pink tongue as it flicks out, trying desperately to stop the slow, steady stream that’s dribbling down his chin. It’s only been a little under half an hour since he strung the sorcerer up, but the way his body bows with gravity, his head tilted forward as he tries desperately to find some release of the coiling heat that runs through him with every movement-

You’d think he’d been there all day.

Toji thinks how grand an idea that would be. He watches the way the rope catches, the various knots that he’s tied around Satoru’s hips that dip down to frame his leaking cock rubbing teasingly at his base. Always only teasing. He’d made sure of it- couldn’t let the brat think that he was going to be having an easy weekend away from his responsibilities as family head. Toji wanders over to his hanging form, his hand trailing down Satoru’s spine, and watches as he arcs even more under the featherlight touches. There’s a sound that erupts from him, a mixture of a whine and a plea that may or not have been Toji’s name, but it falls on deaf ears as he circles the other.

This is his masterpiece- his work of art that he’s currently committing to memory- desiring this image of Satoru absolutely debauched and helpless before him to remain burned in the back of his eyelids for eternity. Satoru’s head tilts one way then the next, trying in vain to guess where in the room Toji was lurking, waiting to once again leave gentle touches that shock him just as much as the Black Rope does when he uses his technique. It’s the only reason Toji’s able to touch him, now.

He reaches forward, his touch turning to slightly press against the gnarled flesh that stretches down his throat, into the meat of his breast, down toward his hip. He never understood why the brat never healed the scars. Even despite how he twisted and gasped and rocked his hips, Toji couldn’t wrap his head around how fucked up the sorcerer had to be to get off on the wounds he himself inflicted upon him being played with. His lips quirked into a nasty smile, pulling up to snarl out a teasing croon.

“Not so untouchable now, are you, Six Eyes?”

Even if he can’t hear him, the reverberation of his voice down his arm and through his fingertips go directly to Satoru’s throat. It’s enough for the white haired sorcerer’s entire body to shudder, his mouth producing more saliva as he pants around the gag. He doesn’t need to see his eyes to know they’re closed, his nose flaring as he tries to calm himself down and focus on the way Toji’s fingers trace his jawbone, tilting his head up as far as it will go with a singular finger under his chin-

And Satoru lets him.

He doesn’t see the knife’s edge, the way the pink and orange sunset casts a glow on both his skin and the blade in equal measure. It’s almost a pity that he can’t indulge in the sheer beauty that is before Toji with him, but the moment passes, and he readjusts his grip on the Inverted Spear of Heaven- the same blade that he embedded in the Six Eye’s body before- and uses the tip to tease the scar tissue at his throat. Satoru freezes, his body going rigid and causing the rope to sizzle and spark in warning. It elicits a dark chuckle from Toji, who’s eyes watch with hungering bloodlust as he watches a thin, pink line welt under where the blade runs.

Never enough to cut, but enough to send those warning signs to Satoru’s brain. The blade turns, the sharp edge pulling at skin, slicing paper thin cuts down the bound man’s chest to the sound of a choked wail that resonates through the living space. His mind is overflowing with sensations, the lack of visual stimulation heightening every touch, every cut, every sudden flickering of tongue over beading blood streams- Satoru hisses as Toji sucks at one particularly harsh cut, right below his collar bone at the height of his pectoral muscles.

The stinging sensation drags, a wet tongue follows, and soon Satoru feels a pair of rough hands grip his thighs. He focuses all his energy on the man behind him, his ears filled with static and the crackling of the Black Rope as he lets Infinity slip, the jolting sensation running along the cuts that litter his body now, and lets an animalistic growl pour from his lips along with the saliva that has built up on his tongue. Those hands are bruising, pressing into his thighs and ass in kneading motions that have him swaying slightly. His hands flex behind his back, arm muscles working against the silky rope, rubbing his skin raw as he tests the rope’s integrity. A hand raises, and Satoru’s struggling is stopped with a sharp ‘pop’ on his ass.

He lets out a startled yelp, and that hand is back, massaging the warm flesh, pulling him apart for the whole world to see. The blindfold makes the tongue on his hole that much wetter, that much warmer- he groans, wishing to push back more onto the thickness of it, wanting with his whole being for the delicious stretch that comes with two fingers that know precisely where to find the soft bit of his insides that makes his cock jump and leak in earnest. Another teasing twist of his fingers has the ropes tightening as every muscle in Satoru’s body flexes and shudders.

“Can’t take you anywhere without you making a mess,” Toji speaks into the void; knowing he won’t get a response, and not particularly wanting one as he stands to align himself with the squirming body before him. His fingers leave the silky warmth of Satoru’s body with a wet sound, and the sudden loss of being filled makes the other moan in agitation. 

“You’re such a brat, always so needy,” Toji growls, his eyes narrowing as he thrusts forward, bottoming out in one thrust, “Should make another harness for you to wear under those fancy kimonos you like to flounce about in- make sure it has something to keep you filled up when I’m away.”

His pace is relentless, spurred on by the creak of the rope shifting and Satoru’s constant sounds of sheer pleasure as he is held perfectly suspended, at the absolute perfect height and angle for Toji to hit his prostate with pinpoint precision with every hard hitting thrust. Filled to the brim and breathing ragged around the gag, it’s all he can do to stay conscious as the air fills with electricity and the smell of ozone as his Limitless and the Black Rope collide in a conflict that is only accentuated by the near violent way that Toji is snarling as he bends forward to bite into the crook of Satoru’s neck from behind. A strangled sound manages to break free from the gag as Satoru is held in place not only by the rope, but the bite, as well. He knows if he was standing, his legs would have given out by now- it’s happened before and Toji always told him he’d do it again. Promised him, in fact.

Satoru is barely able to think as he’s pushed over the edge by the feeling of Toji’s cock throbbing in him as he spills deep in his hole, pulsing with every grind of his hips as he uses Satoru’s ass to milk himself dry while giving one last harsh suck at the bite mark he knows won’t fade for a week.

Since that last time, he’s been finding more and more unique ways to keep Satoru off the ground- Between this and just straight up using his own brute strength to hold him up, back flat against the wall as he railed him with vengeance in his eyes. He pulls out, letting Satoru shiver as white globules drip from him as the tension in his body falls away, growing limp. Toji wanders around to his face, fingers once again soft and featherlight as he tips up his chin. Satoru’s head follows, bliss apparent despite the blindfold and gag, and Toji kisses his lips around the leather binding. He moves to shift off the headphones, dragging his fingers through Satoru’s hair and scratching at his scalp as the white haired sorcerer hums in tired delight.

“Be a good boy again,” he starts, watching the way Satoru’s body twitches at his renewed hearing, “And I might be gracious and grant you your other senses if I’m pleased with your continued… performance.”

He gives Satoru’s cheek a loving, light smack, before his fingers trail away, and Satoru is left whining and, quite literally, hanging, as Toji moves to open the shoji doors to gaze at the deepening sunset. He sits languidly, legs spread and leaning back on his elbows. He tilts his head back at the sound of huffed sniffles and hiccups, a simple smile on his scarred lips.

“Now keep quiet for once- I’m trying to enjoy the sights.”