A/N: smut warning?
Hitoshi has always been a tad bit…
Different.
Not quirky or special or even a little eccentric.
Just...different.
Or, at least, that's the sort of nonsense that his father used to feed him in his younger years—a rather piss-poor attempt at making Hitoshi feel less shitty about being made a social leper by the neighbors and their equally condescending children. He remembers how jarring it was to have them scream and run the other way whenever they saw him coming. He remembers how their parents would quickly grab their hands and shuffle back to the safety of their cars and homes.
He remembers the distinct sound of people locking their car doors whenever he'd walk past them.
He remembers—vividly—how he'd come limping home from grade school with a black eye and a busted lip, having to explain to his father that he'd been jumped on the way home by a group of junior high students and that he never wanted to leave his room again.
He remembers that Shota had allowed him to cry that time—and crying was almost never allowed.
He didn't understand it back then—the fleeting moment of compassion that his father had granted by listening to him bawl his broken heart out as he'd checked his frail and scrawny body for any injuries that may have caused him any serious damage. He didn't fuss or lecture him about being a pushover like he usually did. He didn't ignore him to tend to his stupid fucking guns.
He listened.
And then—for the first time—he reached out to embrace his son.
Hitoshi will never forget the look of unbridled guilt plastered to his father's face.
"Listen," he'd said. "You and I are different from other people, Hitoshi. We carry certain burdens that others may never understand. And because we are different, we can never be a part of their world. It's our responsibility to make sure that they can never become a part of ours. Not only to protect them, but to protect ourselves. Do you understand?"
Hitoshi remembers nodding his head as if he did but in reality, he was devastated. Confused. Why did things have to be that way? And did they really have to be this way forever?
It was probably the absolute most pitiful that Hitoshi had been in his entire life, though he's almost certain that it was also the strongest. He survived. And even though it landed him in the absolute shitshow that he's in right now, he's grateful that his father had the strength to tell him such wisdom while he was still young.
Without it, he'd have given up years ago.
Shota had only been trying to protect him in the best way that he knew how. Help him grow a tougher skin. Teach him skills that would get him into places that having friends wouldn't. He survived because his father was there.
He's grateful.
And, in hindsight, he could understand why all of the neighbors were so wary of him. Nobody wants their kid to be friends with the brat that killed his own mom.
But he digresses.
The point is that he's held on to the idea that he was simply just different for as long as he could remember.
His quick-witted and cunning nature.
His ability to adjust and adapt to almost any situation.
His seemingly innate talent for murder.
The CIA had declared him a prodigy by the age of seventeen and Hitoshi was more than willing to simply go along for the ride.
As he's gotten older, however, he's begun to accept that the term 'different' may just be his father's roundabout way of saying that Hiroshi is, in fact, a fucking psychopath.
And maybe a little bit of a narcissist to boot.
[Alright, fine. He's a massive narc. Quit typing, you snarky little fucks.]
The only thing that he's still unsure of is whether or not he has always been this way or if he's simply grown to be this way after the several years he's spent being an indiscriminate executioner for hire. His motivation for taking jobs became less and less about the money and more about how much he could make his targets beg for mercy before he granted them release in the form of glorious bloodshed.
It got his heart racing just thinking about it.
He's not an inherently evil bastard—he swears. In fact, he's learned that he cannot bring himself to knowingly harm an innocent person, no matter how hard he tries. He supposes that the policy of anonymity he's given to his clients has helped with relinquishing any sort of guilt he could have possibly managed to muster up about doing his job. No details. Just a name and a face to put it to. Typically corrupt politicians and government officials or—on occasion—their cheating wives or mistresses. He's found some solace in that, at the very least.
No, this feeling was derived from something else entirely—drunk on the feeling of power.
The act of playing God.
He's willing to admit that his arrogance is unattractively grotesque. He chooses who lives and who dies by his hand—and as far as he knows, he's never allowed any of them to live. The adrenaline rush that he receives whenever he nails a target is even better than snorting a line of coke from a hooker's ass cheeks—take his word for it.
A sparking and tingling type of euphoric rush.
The feeling of being invincible.
…
Yup.
Complete fucking psychopath.
That being said, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to him that after pulling off a job like the one he'd just done tonight, he'd be rolling around on the pillowy tits of cloud nine.
And, as a result of such, he's got the most inconvenient boner in the entirety of his already unfortunate life.
Inconvenient, mostly, because his cute boyfriend was already fast asleep.
And unfortunate, ironically, because that exact same cutie is pressed flush against Hitoshi's raging erection.
His initial plan was simply to ignore it. He's no stranger to enduring discomfort, having been trained by the CIA in his earlier years of contracting to be able to withstand most common forms of torture. If he could endure having his fingernails ripped off for the sake of keeping the government's dirty secrets, then surely he could endure a persistent erection for the sake of letting Katsuki get a decent night's rest before they're on the road again.
Ideally.
It's a bit more difficult when Katsuki keeps squirming, inadvertently grinding and brushing against him as he shifts with a groggy groan. Hitoshi is sweating by now, more annoyed than anything else that he's been staring at the ceiling for the latter half of two hours instead of simply just going to fucking sleep.
Too bad the CIA doesn't train you for that.
Seriously, who gives a fuck about being able to hold your breath underwater for three minutes? Teaching him how to get rid of a boner with sheer willpower alone would have been much more useful.
He'd be invincible.
He sighs, cursing under his breath with a hiss as Katsuki's thigh rubs against his aching manhood once more.
"Fuuuuuck—"
His hands grip at Katsuki's slim waist in an attempt to get him to hold still, deciding midway through that he'd just have to take his chances with sliding Katsuki onto the bed and making a run for the bathroom to try and rub one out but the leg thrown around his waist doesn't seem to want to be removed.
Katsuki stirs from his rest with a groggy groan.
"Mmmf. What're ya doin', babe?" He rubs at his eyes, trailing off into a tired yawn. "Hell you tryna run off to?"
"Nowhere, baby. Go back to bed; I'm just going to the bathroom." He reassured him, hoping that Katsuki would relax enough for him to gently slide free but the blonde doesn't budge even a little as he tries again. He hears Katsuki click his tongue at him and a short moment passes before he raises up just enough to look down at him with squinted eyes of sleepy skepticism.
"Seriously? You're not 'bout to just leave me in bed to go run off and do another job?"
"No, baby. I promised that I wouldn't keep secrets like that anymore, remember? Besides, there's nothing more I'd rather be doin' than layin' up and cuddling with you."
Katsuki's head drops back down against Hitoshi's chest.
"Then why are you leaving me?"
He's going in circles with his questions——confused and disoriented after having been woken up from his sleep—but it's fairly obvious that he's still incredibly insecure about the idea that Hitoshi is potentially planning on leaving him behind soon. Hitoshi hadn't realized that he'd damaged his trust so much by leaving him to sleep while he does extra jobs at night but in hindsight (like everything else in his life) he definitely should have seen it coming.
"Wouldn't dream of it, honey."
"Then quit tryna push me away and let's go back to bed." He whines and grapples around Hitoshi's larger body as if he fears the older man will try and roll him off again.
Hitoshi finally sighs in defeat.
"I can't go back to bed like this."
"Huh?"
Hitoshi reaches down to take a hold of Katsuki's hand and gently guides it down to his bulging manhood. He hears a small gasp.
"Oh…"
"Mhm. So can I get up and go to the bathroom now? I promise I'll be right back to cuddle you back to sleep." He reasons, going to slide him off again now that he knows that Katsuki has a clear understanding of what he's doing but yet and still, he refuses to move.
"No."
Hitoshi raises a curious brow.
"No?"
"Nope."
And, oddly enough, Katsuki seems to be significantly more alert now.
His hand gropes at the bulge beneath his palm.
Hitoshi's teeth sink into his bottom lip as Katsuki squeezes him—fuck, that feels good.
"Katsuki. C'mon, baby, quit teasin' me." He says, though it's quite lukewarm and also quite obvious that he doesn't have any real intentions of making him stop. After all, getting a sleepy hand job from his boyfriend sounded a lot better than giving one to himself over the toilet while trying to ignore how fucking cold the bathroom tile is against his feet.
" 'm not teasing." Katsuki says, feigning innocence. He slides his hand up to feel beneath the waistband of Hitoshi's boxers and the older man shudders as those pink-painted fingers wrap playfully around his pulsing member.
"Yeah? What're you doin' then?" He presses, short of breath. Katsuki's hand begins to stroke the length of his cock—experimentally at first and then with purpose as he feels warm beads of Hitoshi's pre-cum dribble down his knuckles.
"Helping."
"Helping?"
"Mhm~"
Katsuki thumbs at the slit of his dick and Hitoshi offers him a breathless moan that absolutely has sparks dancing across Katsuki's skin, goosebumps rising in their wake. He's ruddy from his chest up to his ears, lips parted and panting as he watches Hitoshi through the fringe of his lashes with glassy, half-lidded eyes. He's so fucking sexy—hair a wild, unkempt mess and sweat rolling down the expanse of inked and tatted abs as he grinds up into Katsuki's sticky fist. He hasn't broken eye contact even once and although Katsuki had ultimately planned to have Hitoshi at his mercy (and potentially make him beg) he knows that he's already far too deep under Hitoshi's spell to even stand a chance.
If anyone's gonna be begging tonight, Katsuki is willing to bet his savings that it will most likely be himself.
Hitoshi chuckles as Katsuki finally averts his gaze. It would seem as though he's successfully re-asserted his dominance through a single gaze.
"Don't get all shy on me now, baby. Look at daddy while you play with that dick." He says in that low rumbling voice that chases down Katsuki's ears like whiskey—dangerous and intoxicating. He reaches down to pull his waistband down beneath his full and heavy balls; Katsuki's dazed and lovestruck gaze follows eagerly instead. The blonde mutely thinks to himself about how fucking pretty Hitoshi's dick looks in his fingers—so fuckin' big.
He's abruptly yanked from his dim thoughts as Hitoshi firmly takes his lover's jaw between his fingers and forces Katsuki's attention back on him.
"You hear me talkin' to you?" He murmurs and Katsuki nods dumbly, the hand on Hitoshi's cock falling into a painfully slow rhythm as he becomes entranced by his lover's handsome face. The thumb caressing his jaw swipes across Katsuki's lips and Hitoshi hums. "Eyes on me. I wanna see that pretty face when you're pleasin' me, baby. Keep stroking that dick for me." He hisses when Katsuki complies, using his free hand to wrap his arm around Katsuki's slim waist and pull him closer—so close that he could feel Katsuki's breath ghosting against him.
"Mmmhm, look at these pretty fuckin' lips."
Katsuki's tongue obscenely flickers out to graze against Hitoshi with an airy laugh.
"Be a lot prettier with your dick in-between them, yeah?"
Hitoshi's hips jerk up against Katsuki's fist, calloused hand tangling in messy flaxen locks with a bit of a growl.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah~"
"Fuck—get down there, baby. And take your fuckin' clothes off; lemme see those pretty tits."
God, he loves it when Hitoshi gets all bossy like that—bossy and aggressive and a little bit mean. He can feel his nerves unraveling into a an overexcited mess, elated that Hitoshi was willing to allow himself to be the one being pleasured this time but also rather anxious that maybe he wouldn't be capable of performing to Hitoshi's standards. He's not a virgin by far, but this is the first time he's ever wanted to exceed the expectations of his bedmate.
To keep Hitoshi wanting more.
He takes his time dragging his tank top up and over his head, giving Hitoshi full access to the shiny little barbells adorning Katsuki's hard and perky nipples—tugging and pulling and twisting even as Katsuki haphazardly tosses his shirt across the room and abandons it to make even quicker work of his lacy, pink underwear. Broad hands grope and squeeze at milky flesh as the mercenary caresses the artful contours of Katsuki's slim and supple body, lips trailing wet kisses down to his hips until Katsuki eventually moves to settle between Hitoshi's wide-parted legs. He grabs at the waist of Hitoshi's boxers and tugs, looking up at him expectantly.
"You want those off, babe?" Hitoshi asks and Katsuki hums in affirmation, tugging them down Hitoshi's tight and toned thighs all the way to his knees as his lover lifts his hips to assist him.
Hitoshi is such a fucking masterpiece. Katsuki loves to see him naked.
"Just look at you—daddy's slutty little princess practically drooling at the thought of just being able to taste it like the needy little fuck you are." He breathes out, dragging Katsuki forward by his hair until the swollen head of his cock is prodding against Katsuki's lips. The blonde chokes out a stifled moan, a tingle thrilling right up his spine when Hitoshi pulls his hair again so tightly that it stings. A low, humming laugh rumbles in Hitoshi's chest. "I know, baby, I know. You love it when I bully you, don't you? So fuckin' eager to be my own personal little cock-swallowing cum-slut."
That had been a new discovery for Katsuki.
He's never thought himself a masochist but the gut-clenching burn of the degradation-laced praise lit an arousal within him that he'd never felt before, wanting to feel those calloused hands squeeze and choke and slap him like he'd heard Hitoshi describe to him so many different times before. His words laid promise of pleasurable pain.
Of fulfillment.
And of spine-curling orgasms.
He nods before Hitoshi is even halfway through, much to Hitoshi's delight. Knowing that Katsuki was so desperate for him was half of the charm of making him wait. "Such a good boy for me, baby. But I need you to use your words tonight, okay? If I'm gonna be man-handling you and your sweet little mouth then I need to know how you're feeling."
Katsuki snorts out a little laugh.
"I'm not made of paper, you know. But if it makes you feel better, we can use a safe word or something—ow."
Katsuki flinches at the harsh sting in his scalp, pouting at Hitoshi as he releases him and allows Katsuki's head to drop against his thigh.
"Hey—"
"I'm being serious, Katsuki, and I need to know that you're taking me seriously. I can be a little heavy handed and I never want to push you too far. I need you to be verbal with me. The fucking safe word is stop. All you have to do is say the word."
Not wanting to kill the mood, the smaller man responds in a mirthful tone.
"Does get the fuck off of me, you stupid fuck work? I think I like that one better."
And he manages to get Hitoshi to smile.
"Fuckin' brat. You're not really gonna be able to say much of anything with your mouth full, are you?" He jabs and Katsuki's tongue rolls out to drag along the underside of Hitoshi's cock. It twitches in anticipation, Hitoshi biting down on his lip in an attempt to hold in the pleasured sigh that tries to escape him in the process. Mutely, he wonders what's gotten into Katsuki to make him so mischievous tonight.
Doesn't matter. In the next few minutes, Hitoshi intends to be the only thing getting into him.
"I know, baby, I'm fuckin' salivating just thinkin' about it. I'll tap your leg if it's too much, okay? But you're not gonna damage me by smacking me around a little and choking me on your dick."
"You do understand that choking usually implies the possibility of asphyxiating to death, don't you?"
"Now that just feels like you're threatening me with a good time."
"Katsuki."
"I'm kidding. I'm a good boy, I swear." He kisses the slit of Hitoshi's throbbing dick, feigning coy as he bats his eyes at him in an attempt to persuade his overprotective boyfriend even further. Hitoshi responds with a fond roll of his eyes and a huff of laughter, unable to hide the way that his lips curl into that deviously charming smirk.
Katsuki can't quite understand whether or not Hitoshi is trying to seduce him, but he could assure him that it isn't necessary. He's not the one that needs to be convinced here.
And, frankly, he's tired of being stalled.
At the very least, he's grateful that this little detour of theirs doesn't seem to have stifled Hitoshi's arousal in the slightest.
"Can I put this pretty dick in my mouth now?" He presses, though Hitoshi is more than certain that it's a rhetorical question when he sees that Katsuki has absolutely no intention of waiting for an answer. He's sure to hold his boyfriend's gaze, unwavering and unbridled as he lowers himself down onto his lover's aching manhood.
Hitoshi welcomes him with a guttural moan, hand tightening against the short strands of hair at the nape of Katsuki's neck as those sweet lips just barely kiss the base of his cock. He looks so fucking gorgeous, mouth stretched taught around his girthy shaft and tears prickling at the corners of the glimmering eyes as the fat head of his cock prods and presses against the opening of Katsuki's throat with every slide of his sinful tongue.
"Ouuu shit, baby—fuck. You look so fuckin' pretty when you eat that dick for me like that, you know? So fuckin' pretty when you're eager to please." He purrs, Katsuki becoming much more ambitious in his service—much more aggressive. The blonde is becoming acutely aware of the fact that he's taking on far more than he can handle, gagging every time his throat seizes around his lover's girth. He has to make a considerable effort not to pull away or break into a coughing fit, pausing to adjust himself but never stopping—not when Hiroshi's toes have begun to curl like that.
"And my baby's always such a fucking try-hard, tryna take my dick down to the balls even though his tender little throat can hardly take the stretch of me. You want me deeper, baby? Want me to fuck your sweet, gorgeous fuckin' face until I'm creaming right down your throat?" Another rhetorical question, it would seem. Hitoshi keeps his grip firm at the back of Katsuki's head, his free hand joining the other as he abruptly forces the remainder of his erection down Katsuki's clenching throat.
Katsuki chokes, coughing violently around Hitoshi's dick and reaching up to grab at his wrists with both hands when it becomes increasingly difficult to breathe. His stinging eyes have begun to water, tears falling unbidden as his face begins to burn bright red. "C'mon, honey, you can hold it for me." It comes sharp and ragged like the jagged edge of a kitchen knife, breathless and shaky as Katsuki breaks away and inhales a gasping lung-full of air.
Hitoshi releases him, allowing him to finish his coughing fit.
And then Katsuki feels a sharp CLAP! across the soft skin of his cheek.
It doesn't really hurt—a pleasantly warm sting left behind in it's wake that leaves Katsuki lustfully dizzy, a tattooed hand lightly squeezing the delicate skin around Katsuki's long, elegant neck.
"I fucking tell you when you can breathe, you understand me? How the hell are you gonna be my own personal cock-sleeve and you can't even hold your breath for a few seconds, huh?"
Katsuki's doesn't respond, his glazed and lidded eyes locking with Hitoshi's own as the older man gently pats his cheek with an amused chuckle.
"Jesus, you're really into this. You like it when I smack you around like that, baby? Make you feel good?"
God, yes.
He's finally giving Katsuki a taste of what he's been yearning for.
"I like it." Katsuki parrots with a dumb nod.
Hitoshi cards a gentle hand through Katsuki's mussy hair.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah~"
"Good. You're doing really well for me, honey. Just remember that if you need me to stop—"
"T-Tap your leg and tell you to stop."
"That's right, sweet thing."
And he leans forward to praise Katsuki with a kiss at his temple. Katsuki can practically feel his bones turning into jelly.
"Wanna go again."
"You sure, baby?"
"Mhm. I can do it this time."
Hitoshi wants to tell him that he doesn't have to treat this like a competition but he's also painfully aware that literally everything is a competition to Katsuki so he keeps his futile commentary to himself.
He watches as Katsuki goes down on him once more with renewed enthusiasm, holding the base of Hitoshi's fat dick in his hand and taking him until he feels him tug at his hair again.
"No hands. Don't be a fuckin' cheater."
And Katsuki moves to fist the sheets instead, eyes squeezed shut as he forces himself down to the hilt. Hitoshi's legs begin to shake as Katsuki swallows around him in his struggle to breathe and he groans louder than intended, quickly followed up by a callous string of curse words and obscenities as he claps a hand over his own mouth.
"Fuuuuuck yeah, baby!"
It comes muffled from behind his sweaty palm as his eyes roll back and his hips jerk forward to push even further into the tight, wet cavern of Katsuki's squeezing and pulsating throat. Katsuki's warm tears of effort begin to splash down against Hitoshi's thighs but he hasn't tried to pull away this time, clenching the sheets so tightly that his knuckles go white.
The mercenary roughly grabs at the back of his boyfriend's head as his twitching hips begin to start a rhythm, holding him in place as he chases that rolling release trapped at his core that has gone from a simmer into a rolling boil.
And Katsuki is making an absolute mess of Hitoshi's lap, thick and sloppy spit sloshing around his mouth before it comes frothing, bubbling and dripping down his lover's pelvis and onto the sheets.
Hm.
Maybe they should have put a towel down first.
"O-Oh—shit, I'm gonna cum! Stay just like that for me, Kitty, I'm so fuckin' close baby." He grunts, gently gripping Katsuki beneath his jaw to angle his head in an attempt to go even deeper. Katsuki inwardly thinks to himself that this feels like getting high.
He's not exactly sure of which aspect of this he's enjoying the most. Is it the feeling of being completely powerless that gets him off? Is it the delicious way that Hitoshi treats Katsuki like a dumb slut while simultaneously treating him like a fucking prince? Maybe he simply enjoys flirting with death. Hitoshi could suffocate him like this and he'd die happily. Who knows? All that Katsuki really understands is that he wants more.
"Where do you want it, baby? You want it deep in your throat or on that cute fuckin' face? You'd be so fuckin' pretty, baby—my cum smeared over those soft, sweet lips." Hitoshi mumbles breathlessly as the thrusts of his hips become erratic. Katsuki can hardly see him through his tear-blurred vision but what a sight he must be—body glistening from exertion in the pale moonlight peeking through the windows.
His dick pops out of Katsuki's mouth with a wet squelch and the next Katsuki knows, he's being pulled up onto his knees by a tight fist in his hair. He blinks the tears out of his eyes to meet Hitoshi's unbridled gaze—his free hand is stroking his sticky, wet, and twitching cock right over his mouth."Open wide for me, sweetheart." He grunts and Katsuki mindlessly obeys, sticking his tongue out to catch everything that Hitoshi had to offer him. His eyes flutter shut as warm, thick ropes of cum begin to splash against his cheeks. Some of it misses and lands on his chest, a guttural moan escaping his lover as he milks himself for whatever is left and rubs the weeping head of his cock against Katsuki's tongue. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath but when he does, he flashes Katsuki a devilish smile.
"Damn, baby. You throated that dick like you were starving. You look so pretty though—all nice and sloppy. Go ahead and swallow for me." He purrs, gently caressing Katsuki's inevitably sore jaw as he gazes upon him with half-lidded eyes. Katsuki rolls his tongue back into his mouth and audibly swallows, a smile of his own curling at his lips when he sees how satisfied Hitoshi is. He's so proud of his work.
"Filthy—I fuckin' love it. Sit still and lemme get your pretty face cleaned up, sweet thing." He says, hurriedly stepping away and running off to where Katsuki assumes is the bathroom. He comes back with a warm, wet towel and gently cleans his mess from Katsuki's still ruddy cheeks. "I was gonna return the favor but it seems like you were enjoying that even more than I was." He teases with an amused chuckle. Katsuki's head tilts curiously, clarity returning to the far-away look in his eyes as he follows Hitoshi's pointed gaze at his lap.
Oh.
"I didn't even have to touch you and you creamed all over yourself—that's adorable."
Katsuki is admittedly also surprised (and kind of embarrassed, honestly) as he hadn't even noticed. He bristles halfheartedly, offering his boyfriend a lukewarm glare as he reaches over and takes the rag from his hand to clean himself. "Shut up, asshole." He mumbles and Hitoshi just laughs, leaning over to kiss the crown of Katsuki's head. He turns away to retrieve his pants somewhere from the floor and he doesn't have to see Katsuki in order to know that he's still glaring.
"And where in the fuck are you going? I swear to God, Hitoshi, if I wake up tomorrow morning and you're not in this bed then I'm gonna shoot you in both your fuckin' knees with your own gun."
"Jesus, baby—fuckin' relax, okay? I'm not going anywhere but outside for a smoke. I'd light one right here in bed but outta respect for my old man—"
"Whatever, just hurry your ass up and come back to bed. I wanna be held."
Hitoshi snorts out a soft laugh. He never thought he'd be the guy that cuddles after sex.
"Okay, Kats, I hear you. Get comfortable; I promise that I'll be back soon."
Katsuki responds with a grunt and Hitoshi continues to dress, quietly making his way out the front door as he fishes a half empty pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket. The air is a tad nippy against his skin but it's crisp and refreshing, prompting Hitoshi to take in a nice lung-full and a deep exhale just before he puts a cigarette between his lips and lights it.
It's fairly quiet around the neighborhood at night—or, in this case, the earliest hours of the morning—save for the faint song of crickets in the nearby distance and the very few cars that pass by every once in a while. He wouldn't mind moving out here and away from the city once this was all over. He could finally enjoy his smokes in peace and give Katsuki a simple, easy life. He owes him that much, at least.
"Assuming I don't totally shit the bed with this and get us both killed." He whispers aloud to himself, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the darkness. He's always been confident in his abilities but this is so much different with Katsuki around. He doesn't only have himself to worry and look out for but if he makes the mistake of not watching Katsuki's back even once, it could all be over for them. For Katsuki. He laments that he had gotten the younger man dragged into this in the first place. None of this was his fault.
"He's here because you fucked up." The voice in his head taunts him. He's aware of this already, however, so he shrugs away any doubt that he may have. Dwelling on his mistakes won't do him any good. He's learned. He's adapted.
A vibrating sensation in his coat pocket pulls him away from his thoughts mid drag and he pauses, hesitant and suspicious. Who would be calling him at this time of night on a burner cell? Whatever it's about, it can't be anything good.
It's an unknown number—as he'd already expected. Most likely another burner. He taps the button to answer and holds it to his ear without saying a word.
"You'd better have a damn good explanation as to why Kacchan isn't here yet."
And boy, does Midoriya sound pissed.
He'd honestly almost forgotten about him with everything that's going on, to which the freckled man seemed to have caught on to himself. Hitoshi is well aware of how big a tantrum that the other is capable of throwing and how big of a problem they could cause to those that cross him, but he's also smart enough to know that Izuku doesn't actually want to tussle with him. After all, his specialty is cold-blooded murder and Izuku's is…drugs? Human trafficking? All that Hitoshi knows is that he pays other people to do his killing for him and none of them are capable of taking the mercenary down.
Should've put more money into training his men than into hookers and cocaine.
He snorts out a cynical laugh.
"My explanation is that he doesn't want to go with you and I'm not gonna force him."
There's a brief spell of silence but Hitoshi can tell by Izuku's heavy breathing through the receiver that he's close to blowing a fuse. Still, he tries to maintain a facade of calm.
"I don't give a shit if he doesn't wanna be here; I paid you to bring him back."
"You're paying me to kill Chisaki."
"Don't try to fucking bullshit me, Shinsou, it won't be pretty for you. Bring Kacchan to me or you'll have way bigger problems than Chisaki and his circus idiots."
"Is that a threat?"
Another pause. He'll take that as a yes.
Izuku takes a deep breath and Hitoshi can tell that he's getting on what could only be his last good nerve. It's rather amusing but Hitoshi knows that Izuku isn't bluffing about making more problems for him.
Oh well.
"Bring back what belongs to me, Shinsou. I won't ask you again."
"I'm gonna have to piss on your parade here and remind you that Katsuki isn't your fucking property, you slimy little slithering shitbag—he's fuckin' mine and my sweet thing says he wants to stay right here with me." He reiterates gruffly, becoming nettled by all of Midoriya's bravado. Where the fuck does he get off staking claim to his boyfriend—his future? Where the fuck does he get off making choices for Katsuki like he hasn't been under Midoriya's thumb for his entire life already? Katsuki gets to choose. And Katsuki chose him.
For Hitoshi, that's the end of the discussion.
"Understand this, Midoriya. Chisaki Kai will die regardless of whether or not you decide to honor our contract. I could turn that bastard's head in for a massive bounty anywhere; I don't need your fuckin' money for the kill. I will destroy anyone that gets in the way of Katsuki and I having a happy life together and if you're not careful, that's gonna include you. You want him back that bad? Come get him back in blood, fucker." He snarls, flicking the butt of his cigarette onto the pavement. "And if I find out that you had anything to do with the price on my baby's head, you're fuckin' dead."
The tension is so thick that it could be cut with a knife. Midoriya is the first to break through it, bristling at him from the other end of the phone.
"That's your final answer?"
"Did I hesitate?"
"Then consider yourself fucked."
And the phone line goes dead.
Hitoshi curses under his breath and snaps the phone in half. He's gonna have to ditch it and get another but first he has to wake his father and get Katsuki back out of bed. They can't risk sleeping here. The last thing he wants is to wake up to the barrel of a gun.
"Sorry, old man."
He shouldn't have come here. Now he's uprooted his father's quiet life. He seems to be doing a lot of that these days.
"Learn and adapt, Toshi." He sighs to himself. "Learn and adapt."
#
"Smug little motherfucker!" Izuku screams as he slams his cellphone down against the floor and stomps it into tiny, broken pieces. He is filled with unbridled rage, blood boiling so hot that he begins to sweat. His chest heaves with the effort it takes to attempt to keep a handle on his temper, hands trembling with the urge to reach out and strike someone. He rears back and swings blindly, nailing one of his rather unfortunate subordinates right in the jaw—most likely breaking it, if the noise it makes when the poor lad's body hits the ground is of any indication at all. The rest of them straighten up, startling nervously under fear of being the next victim of Izuku's wrath.
"That arrogant little son-of-a-bitch thinks that he can just disobey direct orders from me?! I'm gonna take that fucker's head off with my own bare fucking hands and I'm gonna savor every goddamn moment of it!" He's so red in the face that it looks like a bad sunburn, the heat of his anger pulsating through his skin. "He's dead! Deaddeaddeaddead—fucking DEAD! DENKI!"
The blonde sighs, mutely thinking to himself that Izuku doesn't need to yell—they're standing in the same room after all. In favor of not pissing him off more, however, he chooses to ignore his friend's unnecessarily sour attitude.
"Yeah, boss?"
And in an instant Izuku is crowding him, invading Denki's personal space with a wild and manic look in his eyes as he grabs him by the shoulders hard enough to make him stumble.
"I want that fucker at my feet YESTERDAY. I don't give a shit who goes and gets him but I want him and I want him alive. Nobody kills that bitch but me, you understand?!"
"I hear you, dude. I'll get right on it."
Izuku releases him and turns on the rest of their comrades with equal enthusiasm.
"And if Kacchan is brought back to me with so much as a hair missing from his pretty little head, you're ALL fucking dead! Got it?!"
They fumble over themselves to affirm. He's irrational and violent when he gets angry and being punched is the least they'd have to worry about if any of them happen to hurt his precious Kacchan. If Izuku had been armed, that poor guy would have been getting a trip to the morgue instead of the emergency room.
Denki knows that this is much less about Hitoshi's blatant defiance and more about being denied access to his favorite pet. He struggles to remember when he'd become this possessive—this unhinged.
"Get the fuck out of my sight and don't come back without them."
And they disperse like the vermin they are. Denki follows suit, understanding that Izuku has put him in charge of this little errand. Izuku watches as the room empties, eyes catching a glimpse of Ochako walking in as his men leave him with his own thoughts—best for all of them, honestly.
She remains silent until the last of them have filed out, closing the door behind them as she turns to Izuku with a visibly irate expression. He returns it with a glare of his own.
"What?"
"I just don't understand why you're throwing a tantrum because Katsuki doesn't want to come home. If he wants to stay with his boyfriend then we should let him. You can't just expect Hitoshi to drag him back here kicking and screaming."
"And why can't I?" Izuku retaliates pointedly, turning his back to her. "Kacchan is just being stubborn because he's upset with me about all of this. He doesn't know what's best for him; that's why he needs to be here with me. So I can protect him."
"Are you serious, Izuku? You can't just wage full-on war with every faction in Japan because your friend fell in love with a bottom-feeder; you're putting this entire family in jeopardy."
She goes to follow him as he turns to walk away but something triggers him and he turns on her like a wild animal.
"And what would you know about love, Ochako? You took my love and shit on it the moment you sold me out to the Hassaikai."
The expression on her face is priceless; he can see the exact moment that realization begins to morph into fear and he breaks into a Cheshire grin.
"Oh—you look so surprised. Imagine how I felt when I realized that I gave everything to a fucking traitor. All of the money and cars and jewelry. I never cheated, never once even thought about being unfaithful and it was never enough for a greedy, thieving whore like you."
He can't tell whether or not she's preparing to run or preparing for a fight, body tight and unyielding as she shifts her weight in anticipation.
"I didn't sell you out to anyone."
"Cut the shit. I know that you tipped off Chisaki about Katsuki and told him that he could find him at the club. I know that you're the reason that our entire operation went tits up at Somnambul. If that's not betrayal then I don't know what is."
"I'd never hurt you." Comes her frantic reply. "It wasn't ever about you, Izuku."
"You sabotaged everything that I worked my ass off for—that my father worked his ass off for! How could you sit there and tell me that it isn't about me?"
"Because I knew you wouldn't understand! Don't you see? This obsession with Katsuki isn't healthy and he's holding you back because you keep doing shit like this—sending all of our manpower on a witch hunt because he fell in love with Hitoshi instead of you!"
Realization hits Izuku like a ton of bricks.
"You mean to tell me…that you started this entire mess between Chisaki and I because you were conspiring to get rid of Katsuki behind my back?" He gathers but he wants to hear her admit it out loud. His expectant gaze pins her where she stands but she says nothing.
Still, her silence tells him all that he needs to know.
"You almost got Kacchan killed." He continues, advancing on her like a beast stalking its prey—slow and deliberate. He could forgive her for stepping out of line but to intentionally put Katsuki in harm's way is unforgivable. She takes a step back as he begins to crowd her, panicked as she searches for the exit with her darting eyes but Izuku grabs her by the wrist to keep her still.
"Izuku…please. I'm sorry—"
"You're only sorry that you were caught. But don't worry; I'll relay your sincerest apologies to Kacchan once he's safe—back here with me."
She's not going anywhere. She has to pay for what she's done.
A/N: this took me a year to write and it's still just 7k worth of garbage. still, thank you so much for coming back to read after all of this time and thank you to those that have reached out about my well-being. I appreciate your encouragement and kindness endlessly.