Chapter Text
Toji
Fushiguro Toji’s day has been complete shit.
First, being pulled from his comfortable bed at the ass crack of dawn to deal with an urgent matter. Nanami knows better than to disturb Toji’s sleep for anything less than a dire situation.
And dire it most definitely was.
Toji was less than pleased to hear that some of his men had been savagely massacred, their heads left at the front gate of the estate for the morning patrol to find. Wolves this time, and Toji wasn’t looking forward to dealing with an incensed Getou following this latest development.
Naoya Zen’in is becoming an increasingly irritating thorn in his side. It’s challenging enough maintaining his hard won power over the other three Oyabun without his spoiled young cousin causing problems for Toji. It will have to be dealt with.
But his plans are derailed once again. He’s barely had time to direct the clean up efforts, bodies moved and blood scrubbed from the sidewalk before the arrival of smug looking detectives at the gate.
Toji is gleefully informed of a certain detective with distinctive blue eyes and hair white as snow that was spotted by an eyewitness talking to his men at the gate weeks before. Gojo Satoru hasn’t been seen or heard from since, has missed his mandatory check ins with the precinct- making Fushiguro Toji their suspect number one.
The Oyabun didn’t even get to have his morning coffee or blow job before he and Nanami ended up sitting in an interrogation room at the precinct. In Toji’s opinion, that’s the true crime of the day. He somehow thinks the detectives won’t agree. The only silver lining was that the detectives couldn’t arrest Toji, which meant that he was free to ride in the back seat of his luxury car and smoke for the duration of the trip to the precinct. He’d used that small amount of time to call Sukuna with orders to deal with gathering information on the bodies Naoya had left on his doorstep and send Chouso to care for his pet until his return.
Dealing with an interrogation first thing in the morning is an inconvenience and an oversight, but with Nanami Kento by his side as his legal representation he’s in no true danger of incurring criminal charges. Having a powerful vampiric attorney with the ability to use his power of suggestion on humans is well worth Toji’s alliance with the blood suckers.
Humans and their prejudices-barring monsters from law enforcement is a major disadvantage for the precinct. They never learn. And as long as Toji has a say in it, they never will. It takes long hours, but aside from eyewitness testimony placing Gojo at the front gate, there is no concrete evidence of Toji’s involvement in the detective’s disappearance. As far as the law goes, they can’t prove that Gojo didn’t just decide to take off and start his life over somewhere new.
It’s close enough to the truth that Toji can’t help the salacious smirk on his face when they walk out of the precinct’s headquarters. He fondly remembers how absolutely blissed out and cock drunk his pet had been when requesting death by Toji’s cock. That was just before he signed himself over to a new life of service to the Oyabun. Toji has had the entire frustrating day to think about the punishment he’s going to exact on his pet detective. After all, Satoru neglected to alert the Oyabun to the expectation that he’d be reporting regularly to his superiors. He supposes he can’t fault his pet for forgetting-he’s been a little preoccupied getting stuffed full of Toji’s cock-but it’s an oversight that can’t go unpunished.
Needless to say that by the time Toji and Nanami return to the estate late in the afternoon, his mood is almost as black as his hair and he’s eager to make his daydreams a reality. After spending the day in Chouso’s gentle care, his pet is probably entirely unprepared for what’s coming his way. Toji’s cock is rock hard just imagining the flush on his pet’s stricken face, the terror and regret in his ethereal blue eyes leaking out tear by gorgeous tear, all for the man that owns him body and soul now. What can Toji say? Gojo Satoru suffers beautifully, and he’s always had a weakness for pretty things.
He doesn’t even pause to remove his boots in the genkan. It’s easy to ignore Nanami’s reproachful look. His blond vampire won’t say a word to Toji about it when he knows how bad of a mood the Oyabun is in. As he nears his bed chamber, Toji’s blood is practically buzzing with hot anticipation for the things he’s going to do to his pet.
What he isn’t expecting find is Ryoumen Sukuna standing in his private chambers, looking far too pleased with himself considering the kind of day Toji has had.
A cursory glance around the room is enough to tell Toji that something is amiss. Chouso is nowhere to be found, and his pet-
His pet is kneeling in a strict upright position, held up by an excessively short chain attached to the wall. His pretty eyes are glazed over and far away as he sobs and shudders. His pale skin is flushed and blotchy, his knees red and guaranteed to be bruised. Toji’s eyes flick down to the mess all over his impeccable hardwood floor. His pet is kneeling in a large puddle of his own urine, Toji’s favorite pretty lace panties soaked and ruined.
The sight of his pet distraught and wrecked is, admittedly, hot.
The fact that Toji himself was not the one to destroy him? Infuriating.
Worse, it’s immediately clear that Sukuna has blatantly disregarded Toji’s orders. If the demon had heeded the Oyabun’s commands, he would be busy dealing with extracting information from Naoya’s men about the heads at their front gate and Chouso would be here.
A maw of seething fury yawns in Toji’s chest. That’s the thing about internalized rage. It’s always there, simmering and endless, when he finally snaps.
“What the fuck is this?”
Sukuna stiffens.
His poor puppy seems to curl into himself defensively at the sound of Toji’s voice, and yet at the same time his fingers helplessly curl in the air, reaching in his direction. The abortive sound that punches out of him seemingly against his will is pitiful and wounded. His glassy gaze doesn’t seem to register Toji at all, reacting to his owner’s voice on pure instinct. His sweet, eager puppy is deep in subspace, right where Toji likes him, except that Toji himself didn’t put him there, and that’s just unacceptable.
The demonic Oyabun appears to recover quickly from his surprise. There’s an imperceptible release of tension in his shoulders, he turns to face Toji and cocks his head to the left with a wide smirk. “Fushiguro. Welcome back. I take it they couldn’t charge you with the brat’s disappearance.” It’s more of a statement than a question. Toji wasn’t intending to answer anyway. He’ll be the one asking questions right now.
Toji’s voice is icy. “Where is Chouso?”
Sukuna seems unphased by Toji’s ire. “He’s dealing with Naoya’s men.”
“Is he? How interesting. I’m certain I tasked you, Sukuna, my most skilled torturer, with extracting information from those men.”
Sukuna’s grin doesn’t falter. There’s something burning in his eyes, a glimmer of defiance that Toji has never been able to fully squash from his demon.
“I am an Oyabun, and the King of Demons. Interrogations are beneath me. I was bored.”
“You were bored.” Toji turns the words over, as if sampling the flavor of them on his tongue. Sukuna disobeyed a direct order because he was bored? Put Chouso, a subordinate far less experienced in the realm of subterfuge and interrogation at risk because he was bored? If Toji finds out that anything happened to Chouso or that his move against Naoya has been compromised simply because his rebellious demon was bored, he’ll wring Sukuna’s neck himself, contract and alliance be damned.
Toji’s eyes flick lazily to his broken puppy once more, to the mess spreading out across his bedroom floor. Toji did not give the other Oyabun permission to punish his pet beyond utilizing the Bluetooth toys he’d generously given them access to.
It’s no coincidence that Sukuna chose to make such a mess of Satoru in Toji’s bedchamber.
No, this is clearly just one more small rebellion in a long string of petty mutinies. Toji has been patient. It seems he’s allowed Sukuna to get away with too much these past few months.
Not only has his little demon defied him again, he’s stolen Toji’s evening plans for his stress relief right out from under him. And truly, he’s had such a shit day.
Toji’s slow spreading grin is practically feral, rage simmering just beneath the surface.
“Oh, Sukuna. I can’t have you growing bored. I’ll just have to keep my foolish demon entertained, won’t I? Go fetch Nanami and Getou for me.”
Sukuna’s eyes flash and he bares his teeth, running claws through his pink hair. “Is it foolish to punish a dog when it misbehaves?”
He inclines his head in acknowledgment. “My thoughts exactly. Don’t keep me waiting. I’ve had a long day and my patience is thin.”
“Arrogant prick.” Sukuna snaps. “Who do you think you-“
“One would think that you don’t care for that younger brother of yours at all, Sukuna.”
The demon falls silent, teeth gritted and fists clenched by his sides. He glares at Toji, lethal promises swimming in his crimson eyes, then storms from the room and slams the sliding door behind him.
Toji’s eyes wander over the room, nose wrinkling at the slop he spots in a dog bowl close by, stopping on his messy puppy quivering in place.
He crosses the room in long strides, careful to avoid the large puddle of piss. He comes to a stop, standing over Satoru and gazing down at him, assessing. His plans will have to undergo some slight changes. It appears his plaything has been punished enough.
But that doesn’t mean that he can’t still have his fun. He huffs a sigh. “What am I going to do with you, pet? How can I punish you now?”
Satoru whimpers softly, his head jerks up. He’s staring wide eyed up at Toji, but his pupils are blown, his gaze vacant and bleary. He isn’t really seeing anything in this state.
Before the Oyabun can think twice, he sinks his warm fingers into mussed, messy white tufts of hair. So soft. He hums under his breath, scratches lightly over Satoru’s scalp.
“My poor puppy,” he croons softly. His words are met with a low whine, his pet leaning as much as he can into Toji’s touch, nearly choking himself in the process. “Our little demon is so cruel isn’t he? He made such a mess of you. But I’m here now. Mmm, there you are, sweet thing. So eager for my touch, aren’t you?”
Fresh tears stream down Satoru’s face, his glazed expression clearing minutely. He whispers something that Toji doesn’t quite catch. The Oyabun cocks his head, amused, and leans closer. “Hmmm? You’ll have to repeat that for me, doll.”
Satoru’s throat works, swallowing, and Toji relishes in the pathetic state his pet has been reduced to, simultaneously seethes that it was done by another’s hand.
He freezes at the rasped mewl that leaves Satoru’s lips, now close enough for him to catch, no matter how soft.
“D-daddy…?”
Blazing heat engulfs him. His cock twitches in his pants, and Toji sucks in a breath, feels like his desire might just eat him alive. Fingers curl and tighten into silky white hair. With no one around to witness it, he doesn’t even notice the way his own eyes soften with affection.
His fingers slip from that hair and move without hesitation to unfasten the chain from his sweet, sweet pet’s collar. The smaller man instantly pitches forward, can’t seem to hold himself upright. He tumbles into Toji’s waiting arms. Toji hoists him up easily, as if he weighs nothing. To be honest, it’s no effort to him at all.
He cradles Satoru against his broad chest, doesn’t give a fuck that his pet is a sopping mess, that he reeks of piss or that his breath smells like he spent the entire morning and afternoon swallowing Sukuna’s cock. His pet is so good, so pretty, even when he’s filthy. Especially then.
“That’s right, sweet boy. Daddy’s here. Let’s get you taken care of now, hm?”
Satoru curls into his chest, buries his face in the fabric of his shirt. His whole body goes limp, still trembling, and his sigh is soft.
There’s a warm thing in Toji’s chest and he can’t tell if it’s the bubbling anger at Sukuna, or some other soft thing he can’t quite name.