Hitoshi is given the job on fairly short notice, the text coming to his phone with an URGENT! Tag posted at the top of the message. They wanted it done within the next forty-eight hours which meant Hitoshi needed to leave as soon as possible—which was easier said than done when his husband had a tendency to kick his ass when he had to drop everything, including their anniversary, for work.
"No. Absolutely not." Katsuki snaps, as he sets out yet another tray of pastries he's trying to perfect for his restaurant's dessert menu.
"Angel face…"
"Don't call me that. I said no." He says, swatting Hitoshi's hand when he tries to sneak a pastry off the counter.
Even angry, or maybe especially angry, Katsuki is the most beautiful thing Hitoshi has ever seen. Something he still thinks after almost ten years of marriage. Ok, so maybe he just really likes his husband angry. It's sexy, sue him.
"When are they gonna realize you're almost forty? Why are they sending you to these mini melt downs instead of someone else?"
"Babe, I'm thirty-five." Hitoshi supplies, just to annoy the beautiful man currently murdering him with his eyes.
"Shut up, I'm talking." Hitoshi gets another red-eyed glare at the murmured yes, dear he hums. "You are not leaving this house tonight, Hitoshi. I mean it. I will stab you, non-fatal of course cause I'm too pretty to go to prison-
"Fuck yeah you are." Hitoshi is just digging himself deeper but he honestly can't help himself. He never could when it came to Katsuki.
"But I will stab you and let you bleed outside—Don't look at me like that, I just cleaned this kitchen." Katsuki finishes with an irritated huff that makes Hitoshi smile.
The issue is, Katsuki has no idea what Hitoshi does for a living. He thinks his husband runs off at all hours of the night to handle corporate mergers and CEO melt downs for fortune 500 companies, you know, instead of killing people for a living.
It definitely explains all of Hitoshi's over-priced suits, the endless vacations (most of which are covers for jobs), and their ability to afford their ridiculous house in this obnoxious neighborhood. And Katsuki has never questioned it, not even when Hitoshi comes home every now and again with a black eye or a couple of busted up ribs. He always just gets a look and an amused I can't imagine what the other guy looks like.
But every couple has their little secrets, right? Like how Katsuki shamelessly flirts with their neighbor, the big guy with the red hair and thousand watt smile, and secretly wants to fuck the himbo with the green hair and freckles at the gym he goes to.
Hey, Hitoshi is nothing if not understanding.
His husband is stunning, beautiful, strong, a fucking 30/10 and the filthiest wet dream in yoga pants, and so flexible it doesnt make sense...and ok, he kinda wants to see it happen, if he's being honest. Izuku Midoriya is definitely a prime cut of meat (of course he had the guy vetted just in case).
The point is they are allowed to have their little secrets. No harm done...well, to them anyway. "They said they only need me for two days, baby. And you know me, I always come back early. Hell, if I leave now I can be back before you get up for the gym."
Katsuki looks skeptical, still irritated, but he also knows his husband is right.
"Why the hell did I marry you again?" He says in lue of an actual answer.
"Because I look damn good in a suit and I do that thing you like that makes you whine like a virgin getting their dick sucked for the first time." Hitoshi grins, stepping around the kitchen island to wrap his hands around Katsuki's tiny waist.
"I hate you."
"I love you too."
Hitoshi has all of his things packed for his short flight, his equipment will be waiting for him on site, and kisses his rather grumpy husband as he makes his way out the door. "If you aren't back before I wake up I will torch everything in your closet." Katsuki tosses out the door as Hitoshi climbs into his car.
And Hitoshi immediately climbs back out just to kiss him one more time.
"Promises promises."
The plane ride is short and Hitoshi hits the ground running.
This time around he's been contracted to take out some sleazy looking business man that's currently holed up in a state of the art, highly secure penthouse somewhere down town. Hitoshi was examining the building's blueprints and the schematics for the area around it while on the plane. Nothing is ever as secure as people seem to believe.
He's already been notified that his 'supplies' have been stashed as instructed and makes his way to the abandoned office building two streets over from the target's residence. It's the only building in the area with a clear view into the penthouse—a three foot by two foot window located on the building's east side. Hitoshi's landed harder shots.
He walks past a group of co-eds, the chilly night air herding them into a small group to keep warm, and Hitoshi snorts to himself when they all crane their necks to look at him as he walks by. He's dressed as he always is for a job, a tailored coal black suit, crisp white button up, matching coal black vest, and black leather gloves. His gun holster is strapped over his shoulders, hidden by his suit jacket, and he's got six separate knives strapped to his body.
He catches a glimpse of his reflection in a store window and realizes it's time for a haircut. He's kept his hair in a short styled undercut for convenience, but the purple strands have grown long on the top, the sides newly faded so he still looks clean and put together, but the longer hair reaches his chin when not styled back as it is now.
And Hitoshi doesn't even want to think about the five o'clock shadow he's sporting right now.
He reaches the small alleyway between the abandoned office building and the building next to it and fishes a long matte black case out from between a row of trash cans. "Come to Daddy, baby." Hitoshi whispers lovingly, he really does love his job.
He breaks into the office building with ease and makes his way up the stairs to the top most floor only to stop dead in his tracks when he hears a set of voices just off the stairwell. There are two of them, ex-military going by the hair cuts, and Hitoshi grins at his luck. The case gets set against the wall, along with his suit jacket, and he pulls two knives from the hidden sheathes under his sleeves.
Hitoshi should receive some kind of metal for the brilliance of this take down, and he's gonna make sure his boss hears about it too.
He eases the door open and slips into the room on ghostly silent feet. The two guys don't even see it coming. Hitoshi has one hand around goon number one's mouth and a paper thin blade slicing through his neck before goon number two has even realized his partner is missing. He lets the body hit the floor, blood already pooling at his feet, and immediately goes to grab the second one.
"HEY! Wh-" Shinsou grabs the hand reaching for the goon's gun and throws an elbow to the idiot's face. It's almost sad how easy this is, how quickly he fires three silenced rounds into the stumbling body, two in the head and one in the heart, dead before he even hits the ground a couple seconds later.
It's done in a matter of seconds and neither of them even knew what hit them.
"Pfft, forty-eight hours my ass."
Hitoshi goes back to grab his case and proceeds to assemble his baby. The baby in question is a modified fifty caliber sniper rifle with an ingenious silencer nozzle on the end that Hitoshi designed himself. It packs all of the punch with none of the noise and he loves it almost as much as he loves his husband—almost.
He sets himself up in one of the windows, the darkened room more than enough cover to keep him from sight, and waits for his moment to strike. He's scanning the rooftops and checking the target window when his phone buzzes faintly in his pocket.
Hitoshi pulls out his bluetooth ear piece, taps the green button on the screen, and hums a low, "Hey, gorgeous." into the air.
There's the distinct sound of sheets rustling before Hitoshi hears an irritated, "I hate you so much."
"Aw, baby, don't be like that. Daddy will kiss it better soon, I promise." Shinsou can practically hear Katsuki's eyes roll back into his head.
"I like your mouth a lot better when it's around my dick, ya know." There's a huff and then a soft groan in his ear and Hitoshi is suddenly 150% more interested in what's happening on the other end of the phone.
"Mm, are you hard for me, Katsuki?"
"You're such a fucking freak," he gasps softly, fondly, and Shinsou can just imagine him fisting his pretty cock while spread across their bed. "Aren't you working right now?"
"Yeah, but I can always make time for you, angel." Hitoshi catches the faintest movement through his scope and leans back against the pillar behind him, body completely relaxed as he flips the safety switch. "I'll get you off now that way later I can take my time and enjoy you, yeah? That sound good?"
All Hitoshi gets is a moan in response and his lips twitch with a smile. "I bet you look absolutely perfect spread out for me right now. One hand around your cock and the other—how many fingers are inside you right now, baby?"
"Ah—fuckin shit—t-two, but I want three." Katsuki pants into the phone, and Hitoshi groans as his own hard cock strains against his slacks.
"Add another for me, stretch that hole nice and wide. I want to slide right in when I get home. My pretty whore."
The only thing Hitoshi is focused on is the sounds of Katsuki moaning in his ear as someone, not his target, comes into view. He lets his finger rest lovingly over the trigger and takes a deep breath, releasing it just as Katsuki chokes out a needy fuck, and Hitoshi squeezes the trigger.
"You sounds so good, angel. Can't wait to swallow you down." The kick back knocks the stock into his shoulder and Hitoshi takes it with practiced ease. He ejects the used shell and reloads, the sounds of Katsuki in his ear all the motivation he needs to move things along.
He can see the spray of blood and visceral pieces of flesh and bone lodged in the wall through the scope. Katsuki's breathing is getting heavier and he's getting louder which means he's getting close. Just one more.
"C-close, 'Toshi, fuck I wish you were here."
"I know, baby."
"Wanna watch you choke on my dick while I ride your fingers." Hitoshi is the one who groans this time. Katsuki has such a filthy mouth.
"Yeah, that all you want? Come on, angel face, tell me what you really need."
Hitoshi listens to the wet sounds of Katsuki stroking his cock and his filthy moans, and the second his actual target comes into view he's all but dying to pull the trigger.
"Wanna sit on your stupid face and come with your tongue in my ass, you piece of shit. You—oh god— you don't get to come this time."
"You're so sexy when you're angry at me. Come for me. Make me suffer since I can't touch you."
There's another ragged sounding fuck coming through the speaker and then Katsuki is tipping over the edge just as the target walks into position.
"I'm—yes, yes fuck—I'm c-coming."
There's a carnal sort of pleasure to be had in joining Katsuki's release with blowing someone's brains across a wall from two hundred meters.
He often wonders what goes through their heads, besides his bullet, just before they die. Tonight he's only thinking of the way Katsuki's panted out little breaths make his cock throb as he pulls the trigger.
The wall is a beautiful blood stained mess through the lens of his scope, and his target, along with their protection, has been terminated. Hitoshi is really fucking good at his job and now all he wants to do is go home and fuck his husband through their very expensive mattress.
"Angel?"
"Hmm?" comes a sleepy reply.
"I'm on my way home."
"Hurry up. This bed is too big when you're not here."
Hitoshi laughs, already disassembling his rifle.
"Yes, dear."
Deleted Scene
Hitoshi receives his instructions. In and out, cleaners are on standby, proceed to the secondary target once finished. Easy peasy. He takes his room key, he's a floor above his target, and makes his way to the elevator. For as expensive as this hotel is, there are no cameras in the elevators, and there are only two on each floor.
Hitoshi doesn't bother to stop by his own room, there's no need. He steps on to the fourth floor and heads for the target room. He snags a few towels off a cleaning cart parked in front of another room, grabs one of his pistols from his shoulder holster and slides it between the folds of the plush material, and journeys down the long hallway to knock on the door marked 420.
"Room service. We received a request for fresh towels?" Hitoshi calls when a muffled voice sounds from behind the door. It takes a moment, but he can hear footsteps, military grade boots from the sound of them, and then the door is opening.
"We didn't request towels." The guy is definitely ex-military, his hair cut is a dead giveaway.
"Oh, there must have been a mistake then. I do apologize, sir."
The guy grunts and turns to close the door-they really need to train these guys better. Hitoshi pulls his gun from the folded towels and drops the guy with one squeeze of his finger. The shot is muted by a silencer, but the muzzle flash and muted shot still draw the attention of the remaining six inside.
The bullet goes straight through the guy's chest, it's fatal and Hitoshi doesn't have to guess or think, because he knows. He never misses.
Guy number one goes down almost in slow motion, his body pushing the door open as he hits the floor. The rest of it happens in a blur of blood and bullets. Hitoshi drops another one before the other two can even stand from their card game. So, four out here and two on the target. Fucking typical.
He steps into the room, kicking the door shut as he takes out the remaining two with very little effort, it's honestly kinda sad. All of them are dressed the same, black head to toe, combat boots, and each carrying pistols strapped to their legs and sides. He knows the remaining two won't come to him, their job is to protect the target and coming out here would leave them defenseless. That's ok though, Hitoshi is a giver, he doesn't mind a little extra work.
He holsters his pistol and instead pulls out two of the knives hidden within his sleeves. The back room is locked, not a sound coming from behind the door. Ok, maybe they weren't completely hopeless, this could still be fun. Hitoshi taps on the door with one of his knives.
"I hope you know I had to walk out on my anniversary for this. So, if we could move this along that would be swell, fellas." Still nothing. Hitoshi grins. "Have it your way then."
He pulls a small, flat silver tube from his pocket and crouches by the door. There's a pin at the top and Hitoshi pulls it before sliding it under the door. Three seconds later there's a sharp sounding pop and noise finally coming from within the room. The door flies open, followed by a thick cloud of smoke and one more of the guys with the ugly military cut stumbles out of the room.
He's trying to find Hitoshi through the smoke, the gun in his hand swinging back and forth wildly as he tries to see anything through the cloud of grey smoke. Hitoshi is on him in an instant. He slides behind the guy, he's just a hair shorter than Hitoshi is, and puts the knife to his throat.
"How nice of you to finally come play with me."
Slice.
Hitoshi slits his throat effortlessly, the paper thin blade cutting through layers of skin and tissue in the blink of an eye. He probably didn't even feel it, not for a few seconds anyway. The smoke is beginning to thin and Hitoshi can see the spray of blood against the wall. It's beautiful, vibrant scarlett splattered against the wall, and Hitoshi's mind immediately pulls forth an image of crimson eyes, brilliant and fierce, and he's again reminded of why red is his favorite color.
"Two more, right? We can do this the easy way or the hard way, I'm game for either. But I got shit to do so be quick about it."
Hitoshi waits maybe, maybe, fifteen and a half seconds before he says fuck it and walks into the smoke covered room. He already knows they are hiding in the suit's bathroom. The target is in the tub and the last remaining guard is hiding either behind the door or off to the side just waiting for Hitoshi to walk in. He doesn't have time for this. As much as he'd like to savor these little moments, to really get his fill, Hitoshi needs to wrap this up and move on before the cleaners get here.
The last guard is behind the door, like a dumb ass, and Hitoshi kicks it open. Taking a door to the face would stun anyone, and Shinsou makes quick work of finishing the poor sucker off before he can even think to get his shit together. Shinsou's specialty is hand to hand combat, well it's his favorite anyway, and his knife work is impeccable. The guards throat is slit, blood slowly pooling against the tiled floor before he even knows what's happening–Poor guy probably doesn't even realize he's dead yet–and Hitoshi is moving to the tub to put a bullet between the eyes of some sleazy looking shit bag in a suit that doesn't look half as good as Hitoshi's and he's not even covered in blood.