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Toji Fushiguro was a name that carried fear behind it.
He had started picking up jobs when he was younger, still naïve in morality and the right way to go about life. He didn’t always know if he wanted the life his family had. He had been taught that killing people wasn’t right, and you should never do it no matter the reason; he could laugh at how wrong he was to think in such ways.
After splitting from his family, his name bared enough weight so that he was able to live on his own, running from place to place, city to city, under the curtain of nightfall. Only a few people were able to come into contact with him easily – Naoya, of course, who organized the majority of his hits, and one other woman who stuck around long enough for Toji to have to keep a kid with him the rest of his life.
His style was clean – long range hits, using a Remmington M4OA1 to cut straight through someone’s window and into their skull. He never missed.
Shortly after Megumi was born, he started to find that his hits… weren’t really his hits anymore. He would show up at the place where he was supposed to do the job to find a bloodbath, the limbs of the target decorating the place like it was arranged for him. Toji had found it strange, of course, but the money was still deposited into his account. The next time it happened, the limbs were arranged in the shape of a heart, a small vase of flowers in the middle of the blood. The note attached to them had been brief – I hope you like my gift, my love.
It was infuriating at first – it was like he was being stalked, and there was absolutely no one who should know about the hits in the first place, aside from Naoya. He had thought it was some strange display of power, but Naoya was smart enough not to cross him.
On the sixth consecutive kill that wasn’t really his kill, he met the one behind it.
Satoru Gojo was like a sight for sore eyes – he was beautiful, all long limbs and white hair and soft skin. Toji’s own skin was littered in scars, hands calloused from the weight of dead bodies, but Satoru didn’t mind. Toji stood in silence when he faced the man, who was laying on a bed of red-tainted white sheets, like a virgin.
“Did you see the presents I left for you?” Satoru had said, crawling on his hands and knees towards Toji. The older man had once been able to say that nothing had scared him, but the sight of the white-haired man slinking across the floor with blood on his face might’ve sent a shiver down his spine. “They didn’t know you were coming for them – they aren’t allowed to know. I don’t think I would’ve been as kind if they had laid eyes on what was mine.”
Satoru was another hitman – named the Six Eyes, someone who would stalk their victim’s every move, gutting into them with knives and blades. He was messy, but he didn’t leave a trace of him behind. It was on that night that Toji finally found the identity of the only other hitman who was almost good enough to best him. Almost.
Toji found the target on the bed behind Satoru, sliced from throat to stomach with it’s heart exposed.
“It’s for you,” Satoru had said lowly, eyes glinting in the moonlight as he held it in his outstretched hand. “I want your heart, Toji Fushiguro.”
Satoru followed him around the next few weeks, much to Toji’s dismay. Although he was offput by his estranged personality, he decided to let the man stay with him. Satoru was ruthless with his advances – he would grind against Toji’s leg while the man was working, suck him off while he was drinking his morning coffee, even humped his foot like a dog.
That was how the Six Eyes earned his second nickname, only for Toji – Pet.
When they fucked, it was brutal. Satoru was loud, screaming his name, saying the most filthy things when Toji was buried into him. Satoru would fuck him anywhere, especially when he was riding on an adrenaline high after a kill. When Toji finally brought Satoru back to his home – his real home with Megumi – his son had deadpanned at Satoru’s strange words that dripped like sugar. He even made an offhanded comment that Toji had finally stuck his dick in crazy – but that was okay, because Satoru was just as bad as he was.
They became the most feared duo – the Six Eyes and the Sorcerer Killer.
Toji let Satoru have his fun with their kills – he loved the shine in his eyes, the way Satoru would moan when he finally drove his knife through someone’s chest, and afterwards, he would clean up the mess his pet had made.
Tonight wasn’t different from any other.
They had been commissioned for a hit of the wife of a billionaire – she had been letting other men fuck her behind his back, and the billionaire promised to pay a hefty amount in return for her confirmed death. Toji was never one to deny an offer – and when Satoru learned of his plan, he was visibly excited.
“She’s the one in red,” Satoru comments, his voice like honey in Toji’s earpiece. The older man nods, taking a sip from his drink and setting it across the bar. Even without Satoru confirming their victim, he could read who she was from a mile away.
She had been staring at him all night, one hand slowly tracing up the slit in her dress as she held his gaze. Toji smiled at her darkly, taking another sip before turning back to the bar.
“Excuse me,” Her presence was suddenly next to him, one hand resting on his shoulder with a feather like touch. She was tall and thin, like a model, but that was to be expected from a billionaire’s wife. It would only make the hit that much easier. “Jameson 18. I like your taste.”
He traces his fingertips around the rim of the glass as he looks back up at her. She was beautiful – black hair trailing down to her waist in long curls, acrylic nails painted a sharp blue color. He could see why people would be drawn to her, why they would fuck her. She definitely had the appeal… but she was nothing compared to Satoru.
“I like my liquor smooth,” Toji responds, keeping his eyes hooded as he looks up at her. “I find that whiskey goes down the best out of everything.”
“I can’t say that I agree,” She says, voice sultry. “I prefer Clover Clubs over everything else. I’m more of a gin person.”
Toji takes another sip from his drink, watching as her hand trails down his suit to rest on his thigh. She’s not quite drunk, but with a few more drinks, she might be. Toji needs to keep her relatively sober – Satoru likes his kills to be aware of everything.
“I’ve never understood the desire of egg whites with your alcohol,” Toji comments. “I suppose it makes the drink a bit thicker than I’d like.”
“It starts to froth when you shake it,” She says, and Toji hears Satoru laugh at her pathetic attempts at flirting. He sounds like a child right now, excited to go on a trip to the beach. “Creamy around the edges, still smooth and soft in the middle. It’s not hard to swallow.”
Her hand tightens on his thigh, slowly moving up, and Toji grabs her wrist quickly. She gasps a bit at the way his hand feels – tight grasp, cuts and scars thumbing over her own soft skin.
“Letting your hands travel in public?” Toji teases her, watching as the look of fear leaves her face with his words. He’s got her now. “What would your husband think?”
“My husband isn’t concerned with what I choose to do in my private time,” She says, then she leans in close, hand still wrapped in his, and places her lips next to his ear, dropping it low to whisper. “Wouldn’t you like to join in on it?”
Toji guides their hands up together farther along his thigh, listening closely to his earpiece. Satoru’s breath hitches, making a Cheshire-like grin spread across Toji’s face. Satoru will have fun with her, he’s certain of it.
“If she goes any farther,” Satoru says, voice low and dead serious. “I’ll hurt both of you.”
Toji doesn’t doubt it.
“Let’s go upstairs, hm?” Toji says, bringing the both of them towards the elevator. She’s dropped her hand from his thigh now, only staying close to his body, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his skin.
“What do you take me for?” She teases him once they’re at his door. Toji has one hand on their knob, inserting the card before listening to the faint click as it unlocks. “Some kind of cheap whore?”
“Something like that,” Toji muses, lips pressed into a firm line as he opens the door. He pulls her inside, taking her by surprise, before turning and shoving her into Satoru’s wide, open arms.
Toji watches his lover’s entire demeanor change – his eyes burn a bright blue, his smile twisted, and he has one hand over her arms with the other pressing a knife into her neck. Her entire face is scrunched up now, turned from the sultry look to one filled with fear and dread.
“Oh my,” Satoru says, running a tongue over his bottom lip as he drinks in her fear. “What do we have here?”
The woman’s voice seems to be caught in her throat, and she’s staring between Toji and the knife.
“P-please,” She cries out, loud screeching voice rushing through the hotel room. Satoru’s knife presses deeper into her throat, harsh enough to bring blood, and Toji can tell he’s holding himself back. “Help me!”
“There is no help for you,” Satoru says, voice lifting higher to match her screams. “You touched what doesn’t belong to you; you’ll suffer for that.”
“Don’t just stand there!” She screams at Toji, tears streaming down her face as she struggles harsher in Satoru’s grasp. The older man laughs a bit at her pathetic attempt, settling down in the chair opposite of the bed. “Do something!”
Satoru doesn’t waste any more time – he turns her around sharply, pushing her on top of the white sheets before digging his knife straight in the back of her shoulders, smile growing wider as she screams in pain.
“Do you like him?” Satoru says, knife still buried in her back as he grips her dark hair. Her mascara is ruined now, face dripping with snot and tears as she screams for help. Satoru lifts her head just enough so that she can look into Toji’s eyes, begging him for aid. “Tell me, you fucking whore.”
“Y-yes!” She says, hoping that it will ease the white haired man if she tells the truth. Instead, Satoru trails his fingertips over the handle on his knife before twisting it farther into her shoulder. Her head is still held up by his hand, but she vomits all over the carpet.
“I heard everything you said,” Satoru says, leaning down to whisper into her ear. “You want to sleep with him, right? Unfortunately, you’re not really his type. I can always help you with that!”
Satoru grabs the knife again, taking it out and pulling her up by her hair until she’s pressed against his body. He uses the knife to cut the front of her dress open.
“Don’t worry – you’re not my type either,” Satoru continues, eyes flicking to Toji’s.
“It’s not polite to play with your toys like this, Pet,” Toji says, spreading his legs in the chair. Satoru grins again, licking his lips at the sight in front of him.
“She shouldn’t have gotten so close to you, then,” Satoru digs the knife harder into her exposed skin, making her squeal in pain. He watches the blood bloom from her chest like spilled ink on a canvas, feeling euphoria wash over him. “I could’ve made your death quick – you shouldn’t have pissed me off.”
Toji watches as his lover pushes the girl onto the bed, eliciting more screams from her as she tries to run away before he delivers the final stab between her ribcage, jerking the knife down in a clean motion to cut her open. Satoru bends down, hovering over her face as the life starts to trickle from her eyes.
“He’s mine,” Satoru says, repeating the last word over and over again as he thrusts the knife into each exposed organ, relishing in the way that she screams for him. He smiles wide as the reality of what’s happening dawns on her. This is his favorite part about hits – the realization when someone finally understands they won’t make it out alive. She’s still crying, her organs pulsing blood from the opening in her torso, but slowly her breathing hollows out.
Satoru sits back on his knees, sighing as he leaves the knife inside of her. Blood covers the front of his suit, spotting his skin where he got a little too enthusiastic. He loves the feeling after it’s over – it’s a shame she didn’t last longer. The white-haired man looks over his shoulder at Toji, watching the older man blow smoke out from his mouth. His arm rests on the side of the chair, eyes soft at the sight of Satoru in front of him. His legs are still spread apart – almost like an invitation.
Satoru wipes his hands on the bed, standing up and walking over to Toji. Toji looks up at him through hooded eyes, opening his mouth up, and Satoru instantly straddles his lap and connects their mouths together. He sucks the breath from Toji, letting the feeling of the cigarette smoke course through his lungs.
“Did you like the show?” Satoru asks, dropping his head to the side of Toji’s neck and licking at the exposed skin there. Toji smirks at him, already feeling Satoru trying to grind against his lap. His pet always gets so needy after a hit.
“Tell me,” Satoru demands, pulling back and staring into his eyes. There’s something about the way he looks, all deranged and scary covered in someone else’s remains that makes all of Toji’s blood flow right to his dick.
“I always love your shows,” Toji says, exhaling smoke out onto Satoru’s face. “You were a bit mean to her, don’t you think?”
“Don’t care,” Satoru moans, grinding harder against Toji’s lap in a desperate attempt to get some friction for his hard cock. “She looked at what was mine. No one else is allowed to do that.”
Toji trails a hand from Satoru’s waist to his hair, pulling hard and making the man open his mouth wide. Satoru whines at the feeling, lips spreading to invite what he knows is coming – Toji flicks the end of his cigarette, ashing it on Satoru’s pink tongue, before pushing him off of his lap. Toji’s hand stays in Satoru’s hair the entire time, bringing his lover’s face close to his own from the ground.
“It’s cute that you think I belong to you. I think it’s the other way, dog,” Toji says, cocking his head to the side. Satoru’s on his knees, already trying to grind against Toji’s leg. “You’re mine, yeah? All mine, just for me to play with. Tell me what you want, baby.”
Satoru whines at the name, face flushing a dark red.
“Fuck me,” Satoru says, but Toji knows he can beg better than that, especially when he’s already devolved into grinding against his foot so quickly. Toji lifts his leg a bit, pressing right against Satoru’s clothed crotch. “I want you to fuck me hard, make me feel it so deep that I won’t be able to sit down right for days. I want you to come inside of me, use me like a fucking doll, wanna feel you –“
Toji’s cuts him off mid sentence, spitting onto Satoru’s face and making Satoru’s eyes move back into his head. His tongue darts out to his cheek, trying to collect the saliva there, but Toji only laughs at him and pushes him onto his stomach. He doesn’t waste any more time in giving Satoru what he wants – he pulls Satoru’s dress pants down over his ass, lining himself up with the hole.
“W-wait –“ Satoru starts, gripping onto the edge of the bed as he feels Toji’s hard dick over his dry entrance.
“What is it?” Toji says, dwarfing the man in size as he looms over his back. He rips Satoru’s shirt in half, throwing the shreds of it over the dead body on the bed, and he feels Satoru’s breath hitch as he starts to press in. “I thought you wanted to feel it for days, thought you were made for me. All that big talk for someone who just murdered a woman and they can’t even take a bit of pain. You want to back out now?”
Satoru looks over his shoulder, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he props his head against the bed and reaches back, spreading his ass apart to expose his tight hole to Toji.
“No, please, I need it – Daddy, I need to feel you inside me now –“
Toji thrusts in all in one go, holding Satoru’s hips down and burying himself inside. Satoru screams out in pain, and Toji can already feel the wet heat sucking him inside. If he was to pull out now, he’s sure there would be a blood following him. Satoru’s eyes gloss over as he thanks Toji again, tears seeping out onto the dirty sheets.
“You’re so gross,” Toji bends down, whispering in his ear as Satoru whines with each hard thrust. “Calling me what my son does. What would Megumi think of you?”
“Yeah,” Satoru says, voice high pitched like the girl he just killed. “I’m so gross, Daddy, I’m disgusting. I’m your filthy little whore, just for you.”
“Good,” Toji smiles, hands leaving Satoru’s waist to dig into his back, causing the white-haired man to throw his head back in ecstasy. His eyes flick up to the body a few feet away from him, a dark idea spreading into his head. “You’ll do anything for me, won’t you? You’ll even hold her dead hand while I fuck you.”
Satoru’s face turns into a scowl as he looks back at Toji, but Toji’s face doesn’t waver as he keeps thrusting roughly into him. Satoru looks up – Toji knows Satoru is disgusting like this, that he lives for the thrill of killing people, but he knows that this kill hits Satoru in his soft spot. This one was personal.
Satoru stretches his hand across the bed, linking his fingers with the woman’s. Her hands are still warm, covered in her own blood, and as soon as he holds her hand, Toji’s thrusts become deeper. The man starts hitting Satoru’s prostate, grinding over it, and with Satoru’s dick trapped between his body and the edge of the bed, he knows it won’t be long before he comes, but he doesn’t want to do it like this.
“You really are obsessed with me,” Toji laughs at him, and Satoru cries out again, nodding his head quickly. “That’s absolutely disgusting, Satoru. What if she was watching us?”
Satoru shoves his hips back to meet Toji’s thrusts, feeling his orgasm grow with the words Toji says. Satoru would fuck him in front of her – he would ride Toji, suck his cock, moan his name out over and over as Toji fills him up. He would show her that no one touched his things.
Satoru whips around to grab one of Toji’s hands, pushing Toji onto his back on the bed beside the woman. He sinks back down onto Toji’s dick again, riding him like his life depended on it. Toji leans up, one hand on Satoru’s waist and the other in his hair as he kisses down the man’s chest.
“Daddy,” Satoru whines out, grinding harder. “I need you to bite me, Daddy.”
Toji sinks his teeth into Satoru’s collarbone and Satoru pulls Toji’s hair harshly, causing the older man to groan out as he grinds harder. Satoru has the man so deep inside of him that he’s sure he can feel him in his stomach.
“Harder,” Satoru gets out, breathless, and Toji obeys his pet, biting until he tastes iron on his lips. This is what Satoru wants – he wants to bleed while he’s fucked, wants to be reminded that while he is untouchable, Toji alone will bring him all the feeling he needs. Satoru’s hips stutter when he sees Toji pull back, blood coating his lips, and he almost comes on the spot.
“It’s so warm,” Toji comments, thumbing his fingers over the teeth marks. “You look so beautiful, baby. No one else can make you bleed like this.”
“Tell me again,” Satoru cries, tears streaming down his face from holding off his orgasm. “Tell me I’m beautiful, Daddy, tell me I’m good. I want to hear you say it – please, Daddy, tell me you love me – Toji –“
“Of course I do,” Toji is brutally thrusting into him now, watching the blood run down Satoru’s chest to mix with the white hair on his happy trail. Satoru’s body is limp, fully exposed to whatever Toji wants to do. “I love you, my pet, my beautiful boy, no one else can ever be good for me like you are. No one else can take my dick like they were born for it, no one else will kill for me and make such pretty messes like you do. Do it now, baby, make a mess all over yourself for Daddy.”
Satoru comes instantly, jerking as Toji keeps thrusting into him. He’s screaming with his orgasm, crying out as he feels Toji’s hot come fill him up. Satoru bites down onto Toji’s neck as he rides his high out, tears and blood and Satoru’s own come mixing between them.
Satoru slumps against Toji’s body, panting hard against him on the bed. He turns away from the body beside them, feeling a high course through his veins. A dark part of him hopes she saw him getting fucked just before she died, just so she knows who Toji belongs to.
“That was good,” Toji says. “You fuck better when you’re all worked up.”
Satoru rolls his eyes. “I always fuck good. You can’t lie to me like that when I have your kids inside of me.”
Satoru leans up, pressing a kiss to Toji’s lips and slipping his tongue inside of it playfully. He can feel Toji smile against his mouth, laughing at the display of affection.
“Get in the shower,” Toji says. “I have to clean up the mess you made.”
“At least it’s all on the bed this time,” Satoru says, slowly easing himself off of Toji’s dick. He has to clench tightly to keep all of Toji’s come inside of his ass – he doesn’t want it to leak out just yet.
Satoru trots over to the bathroom, looking at Toji over his shoulder and watching as the older man dresses himself, opening his briefcase and bringing out a large sheet and putting on medical gloves. His heart swells with love for the man – when he first found him six years ago, he was enamored by Toji’s skill, completely in love with the Sorcerer Killer who rivaled him. He knew that if he wasn’t able to have Toji, he would kill him. He’s so happy it didn’t come to that.
“Be quick,” Satoru says, turning on the shower and running his hand beneath the water. “Megumi has dinner waiting for us when we get back.”
Toji smiles, listening to Satoru sing along to the music on his phone as he begins to carve into the body in front of him.