Chapter Text
Midoriya Izuku was a patient man. He didn't mind when one of his men fucked up and put them a day or two behind schedule. He didn't mind when his friends didn't take their work seriously and fooled around because honestly, a life full of work is boring. He didn’t even mind when some of their captives managed to slip past their fingers. He never felt a need to panic or stress because in the end he knew he would come out on top.
Today, however, Izuku was at the end of his wits. What started as a normal day turned to shit by the time the clock hit 5 pm. He should've known that from the moment he poured too much cream into his coffee, lady luck had turned her back on him.
He walked out of the room, quickly grabbing the wet rag that was handed to him. He slumped onto a chair while heaving a sigh and focusing his attention on wiping down the blood splattered on the gun he currently held in his grip.
Izuku looked up once Uraraka began complaining, "I don't get it, why would that guy think it's smart to do that?"
"He wanted to get authority and power and this was the quickest way, probably. The meaning behind the tattoo isn’t exactly a secret," Momo murmured, her fingers idly combing through her hair.
The corpse lying in the room connected to the one Izuku was currently seated in was that of a 34-year-old man. He did not bother with the man’s identity when he sent him to the promised land. The reason for his death was simple: he faked a snake tattoo on the right shoulder, the emblem for the Black Mamba mafia.
While the tattoo itself was a poor imitation of the one slithering up Izuku’s right arm, over his shoulder and around his neck like a noose, it wasn't any less infuriating. Izuku did not kill and manipulate many in order for a stranger to stain his empire’s image.
Amongst him and his emperors, as he liked referring to them, Izuku was the only one who had the Mamba tattooed around his neck. He felt it necessary to be held captive by the serpent at all times, particularly because he is the head of the group. When he heard of the copycat, he felt offended beyond belief by the sloppy worm drawn on the man’s body especially since it had followed the same course as Izuku’s did.
He was not going to allow anyone to associate the Black Mamba with amateurs who had overflowing greed for power.
Izuku let his mind wander while wiping his weapon clean. He allowed himself to relax and let the quiet chatter between his friends wander into his ears like background music. The mafia life took a toll on him sometimes, one that would weigh him down and cling to him like iron balls attached to his ankles. Like he was a prisoner trapped in a cage. But Izuku knew that he wouldn’t rather live his life any other way. He dragged around his ankle chain with pride like it was a trophy, knowing that without it, he would feel a little too light and a little too free.
He couldn’t help the exhaustion that seeped through his bones though. The mafia life was dragging him under and he allowed it, willingly surrendering to the quicksand of crime. He needed a break but never granted himself the opportunity because whenever he slaughtered a pig, he smelled a rat.
“Hey.”
Izuku looked up, his eyes meeting those of Ochako’s. He noticed the slight concern in her expression and it was only then that he realized he had hunched over, his elbows now on his knees, and the gun held limply in his grip.
Ochako was always kind to him and at first, he believed that she wanted to gain and take advantage of his trust. Izuku came to realize that kindness was a part of her character, that she had no ill intentions or an ulterior motive.
Izuku straightened up and looked around the room. The conversations that served as background music had ceased, his crew of 7 looking straight at him. He noticed their studious gazes and the curious twitches in their mouths.
“Well, that’s another night finished,” Izuku tried lightening the mood, not noticing when it was that the air had started to taste so bitter.
“Yeah, that’s enough work for today. You should rest.” Tokoyami said this yet he knew that when Izuku entered one of his moods, his only escape was overloading himself with work, work, and more work.
Izuku hummed at him dismissively, rising to throw the rag in a random direction and put the gun into the holster wrapped around his shoulders.
He knew Tokoyami for a few years and was well aware that Tokoyami knows he’s fighting a losing battle. All it takes is a few “sure”s and “no worries” and he’ll have him off his back. Iida however, is a different breed of human that didn’t take no as an answer.
“Izuku we know that this week has been very inconvenient but you don’t have to shoulder the burden yourself,” Iida began. “A few guys here and there are nothing but roaches, we’ll take care of them. After all, what's an empire without its emperors?”
At that, Izuku stopped rummaging around on his desk, his fingers pausing their movement over countless papers. He could see that Iida was sincere from the glint in his eye that indicated his resolve in getting Izuku to back down this once.
Tsuyu spoke up from her spot in the corner of the room, “He’s right Izuku-chan. Just because you’re the boss doesn’t mean you get to hog all the hard work and refuse to accept days off.”
He chuckled deeply, finally allowing his desire to shove his face so far deep into files that he would suffocate, dissipate.
“Fine then,” Izuku said, “what do you guys have in mind?”
“Actually, I know a place downtown” Sero piped up. A chorus of groans ensued.
“What? What?” Sero questioned. He was unable to limit the offended tone to his voice.
“Sero, I swear we love you and all but the places you take us are dirty free-for-alls full of freaks,” Momo said through clenched teeth, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose with her eyes shut while less than pleasant memories flashed behind her eyes.
“No look I promise it's cool and fresh this time. I pinky promise!”
“Sero please,” Ochako practically begged, a pained look on her face. She knew that once Sero put his mind to something, he wouldn’t stop until he fulfills his desires.
“Come on, Ocha. It’ll be good this time. If you don’t like it then I swear I won’t suggest anything next time.”
“Only next time?” Shoji said amused. Sero glanced at him, a slight smirk pulling at his cheeks. His eyes delivered a clear message: ‘not in your wildest dreams’.
“I mean, I don’t see why we can’t try one more time. Maybe we’ll hit the jackpot” Tsuyu murmured.
“Tsu!” Momo exclaimed, almost sounding offended that anyone would take Sero’s ideas seriously.
“I’m not opposed to going,” Izuku chimed in.
“Izu!” Momo turned around so quickly that Izuku was afraid she hurt her neck. “Ugh! Fine! What kind of place is this anyway?” She gave in knowing that if Izuku had agreed, there was no escaping Sero’s genius ideas.
“So!” Sero grinned, his teeth white and pearly, “I just heard about this place a few days ago. Apparently it’s the perfect place to go to if you’re looking for a show. There’s glitter all over the floors too!”
“A show?” Shoji was confused. “Is this a-”
“A strip club!” Sero shouted and jumped around with excitement like a kid when offered candy.
“A strip club, huh,” Izuku said, “Well, let’s go then”. He walked out of the door, deliberately ignoring the pained holler Sero let out when he was elbowed by Momo and then Ochako.
---
The first thing Izuku noticed when he walked in was the blinding lights. The second being the red. There was red everywhere but it was moving. It took a little adjusting for his eyes and when he focused, he realized that the red he saw was on lips.
Many in the club had red lipstick smacked on to their face, moving and conforming to thin lips, plump lips, chapped lips, soft lips. Yet as he looked deeper, some had no lipstick on at all. He heaved a sigh as he followed Sero to the bar only to see the bartender wearing the same shade of red. Oh, how gorgeous it is to feel out of place.
He noticed how his crew huddled around him in an attempt to create a human shield. He knew they reached the same conclusion he did; either everyone in this strip club adored red lipstick or they had just trespassed another group’s territory.
“Guys, relax” he called out knowing that sooner or later, the girls would begin growling at Sero for dragging them here.
He moved his head, a flash of blonde moving in his peripheral. When he looked again, it was back to waves of red.
---
Katsuki had not expected special company tonight. He especially hadn’t expected a group of babysitters guarding a clearly capable man.
He was tall. Taller than most of the men he had seen in his humble 23 years of life. He could see his head over the crowd huddled around him and boy did the face on that head make his stomach flip.
The man's face was a sight to behold with green eyes wide and calculating as they glanced around the club joined with freckles spread over sharp cheekbones. On his pointed jawline laid a scar that was an inch in length and on his head laid green curly hair that reached broad shoulders. He could see the faint silhouette of a tattoo circling his broad neck.
Katsuki felt a hand settle on his waist and glanced over his shoulder, eyes meeting those of Shoto’s.
“Hey cupcake,” Shoto greeted.
“Hey babe,” he replied and grinned, eyes shifting back to the green-haired man.
“I see we caught a big fish huh,” Shoto smirked after following Katsuki’s line of sight, eyes landing on the hulk of a man standing not 15 meters away from them.
“The biggest.”
Katsuki turned back to Shoto after hearing his hum of confusion and saw a pink blur approaching them from the left. He understood Shoto’s unspoken question: how do you know?
He felt Shoto’s hands cup his waist, his fingertips a centimeter from contact. Katsuki raised his head slightly to meet Shoto’s mismatched eyes.
“It isn’t often a man comes in with people surrounding him like that, he’s gotta have some power under his belt.”
Katsuki took this moment to run his eyes over Shoto’s appearance. He knew his boyfriend was a pretty boy, loved it even. His unique features were the reason he became curious about this man. His eyes contrasted each other, one the colour of blue ice and the other of gravel. His hair wasn’t much different, split down the middle into two different tints, the left side pearly and extending to red, as if a bucket of blood was dropped on pure white snow.
Yeah, he liked his men rare.
From his left, Mina walked into his line of vision. He put his hand on his man’s chest and pushed just enough for him to get the signal and drop his hands.
“Hey Puppet,” she greeted. “What's got you looking all excited? Weasel get you all horny?”
Katsuki sighed while Mina giggled to herself. As long as Kirishima wasn’t here to encourage her tasteless jokes, he was confident he wouldn’t go crazy.
He walked closer to her, grabbed her face, and veered it in the direction of the green-haired man. Katsuki watched as her eyes lit with fascination and realization.
“I spy with my little eye…” she trailed off.
“We’ve got a VIP in our humble abode. Make sure to welcome him to the DollHouse.” Katsuki released the hold he had on her jaw and pushed her in the direction of the man. The team around the man had scattered, all except a brown-haired girl. It was a perfect opportunity to grab any valuable information from the man or understand his reason for stepping onto stranger territory.
As Mina walked off, Shoto piped up from the side after minutes of silence.
“I believe our guest is waiting for us.” He leaned down and buried his nose in Katsuki’s neck, inhaling deeply.
“He can wait. Dance with me, Sho.” Bakugou wrapped his arms around Shoto’s neck and pulled him closer. “Don’t tell me you want to be with that man more than you want to be with me,” Katsuki pouted.
“‘Course not, doll. What would I do without my baby,” Shoto smirked and allowed himself to be dragged deeper into the dance floor.
---
Izuku was nursing a glass of beer at the bar, bored out of his mind (he appreciated Sero’s efforts, really, but he wasn't into whatever was going on around him) when a foreign voice reached his ears.
“Hey, you don’t look like you're from around here. What brought you to this side of town?” A pink-haired girl approached him and sat on the stool to his right. Over his left shoulder, he heard Ochako hiss.
“Quit it,” he murmured quickly to subdue Ochako before turning to face the woman.
“Here for a good time,” he replied. “Wouldn’t happen to know where I can find it do you?”
“Oh, I’m right here, hun.”
Izuku chuckled, “why wouldn't I look like I'm from here anyway?”
The woman looked at him as if he was stupid and suddenly he realized how truly stupid he sounded. She pointed to her lips, the red smeared perfectly over them.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed already but here we usually wear red lipstick. It makes it easier to identify each other though not all of us that do are acquainted.”
Mina brushed a strand of her behind her ear, “some people just come here to enjoy themselves. We don’t turn anyone away,” She smiled knowingly.
He noticed her glancing at Ochako behind him, who was glaring daggers. Ochako has always been possessive over him and usually, her little crush wasn’t a bother but he wasn’t in the mood for her grumbling tonight.
“Well, I may have tumbled into dangerous territory then.”
“Don't worry,” she began, amusement colouring her voice, “we’re not territorial.”
Izuku opened his mouth but stopped abruptly when his eyes caught blonde again. He zeroed his vision on the small male dancing in another man’s arms. He wasn’t actually small by all standards; he had a good 5’11 slim build but compared to Midoriya’s 6’6 hulking body, he was tiny.
His sand blonde hair shined under the fluorescent lights, spiking up into sharp edges that held a certain softness to them. His body moved delicately and from his seat, Midoriya could see the pretty and soft skin moving under silk fabric. He couldn't see his face clearly but he knew it wouldn’t fail to take his breath away.
From his side, Mina noticed his pause. She looked in the direction his eyes were glued in and grinned gleefully.
Izuku was about to forcefully rip his eyes away from the blonde as he gained awareness of his actions only for his eyes to land on the male holding the blonde and falling into another trance.
This man had a different kind of appeal to him, an uncommon one. The first thing that caught his eyes was the hair. Split down the middle, it was separated into white and red. Izuku wondered if it was natural and if it felt as silky as it looked.
Yet again, he could not see the face of the male as he had buried it in the smaller males hair. And oh what he would do to be given the opportunity to feel those Midas touched locks.
The dual haired man was fairly tall, standing at a respectable 6’2. His figure was broad and strong. He could see the muscles rippling under the tight clothing.
Izuku shifted and continued watching the scene before him. He was intrigued and he’d be damned if he passed up the show.
Ochako grabbed his attention suddenly as she snagged his shoulder, “what are you looking at?” Her voice was poisonous as if she had caught him cheating on her.
“The blonde one-” Mina began. Izuku immediately shook off Ochako’s hold and turned his full body towards Mina.
“-We call him the Puppet Master”
“Why is that?” He couldn't help but let his curiosity overflow.
“He does what all puppet masters do: command his dolls. Everyone here practically worships the ground he walks on. A word and he has people tending to his every need, even his enemies.” After a second of contemplation, she adds “a shame, really, because he isn’t a part of us”
“He’s held at an awfully high pedestal,” Izuku hummed.
“Well he's very pretty, mister, and we tend to like our kings very, very sweet,” Mina said, staring him dead in the eye. Ochako must have done something behind him again since the lady in front of him glanced at her, a knowing look in her eyes.
Again, after an afterthought, Mina says, “this is why it’s frustrating. He’s right there but we can’t have him.” She frowns, hoping that her acting skills have become better since her last mission and that her facade went undetected.
As Mina went to make eye contact with the huge man before her, her eyes picked up a faint silhouette on his broad shoulder. She licked her lips and drank in the man's appearance. He was big. No, big was an understatement. He was colossalTM. His shoulders were wider than her entire body and his arms were nuclear weapons. His hands could wrap around her entire face, crush it, and still have surface area left to wring her neck.
Mina quickly tried to get her thoughts back in control because she knew once she spiraled down the rabbit hole, she wouldn’t be able to converse with the man any longer. She shook her head, trying to avoid looking at the curly-haired man's thighs because god forbid, she would faint right then and there.
After her mild panic episode, Mina looked back to what caught her attention in the first place. The tattoo. It wasn't hard to spot so Mina wondered how it passed her radar. The man’s shirt was left half unbuttoned, the rest of the cloth see-through leaving no room for imagination.
Mina honed her attention on the body art. A long slender body curling over a large bicep and a thick neck like a collar; a snake. She licked her lips again as excitement coursed through her veins. A Black Mamba was on their territory.
“So who's the other one?”
Mina looked briefly back at Izuku who had gone back to sipping on his drink. She called the bartender over.
“That’s the Weasel. He doesn’t bite. He only bites back.” She ordered a drink as the curly-haired man hummed deep in thought. “They come here together all the time,” she sighs with a lazy smile, “They have no idea we gave them nicknames.”
“Why not just get their names?” Deku was confused. If the couple visited regularly, enough for them to have acquired nicknames then what was stopping the pink-haired girl from getting their names?
“As you can see, they are very invested in each other.” Mina wondered if the man had caught on to her lies. “I don’t have the heart, willpower, or desire to pull them apart for a split second.”
Deku quieted down for a second then said, “you wouldn’t happen to know what their relationship is?”
Mina was taken aback at the question, not expecting the male to be so straightforward while a girl sat fuming behind him. She regained her composure and picked up the drink that was slid over to her.
“Don’t ask too many questions, pretty boy. Don’t forget you're on stranger property. We don’t share information without a price.” She paused to take in the look on his face. He must have been out of his mind to think she’d dish out answers to his every question.
“Anyway, enjoy your time here but beware of those with red lipstick on.”
“Why, What's the matter?” Izuku was confused. Was he missing the punch line?
“Shouldn’t trust the Red Lips, mister, they always lie,” Mina stood up to the relief of Ochako. “Don’t let me keep you from enjoying your night.”
Mina walked off but stopped suddenly when she remembered Katsuki’s demand.
She turned around, her red lipstick glimmering under the lights.
“Welcome to the DollHouse, Black Mamba. Visit us anytime, we’ll take care of ya.”
---
Katsuki and Shoto walked down the dark hallway, the booming music becoming fainter by the second. They stopped in front of a plain door and pulled the handle.
“Welcome, welcome. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Denki spoke up from his seat and raised a glass of wine up to his lips, sipping, then allowing the drink to settle in his mouth for a little before swallowing.
Katsuki paused in his step then narrowed his eyes, “you’re drinking my wine.”
Denki’s face paled, his facade dropping entirely, “oh, um... I have - I have no memory of that, what wine are we talking about here?”
“The wine in your hand, idiot,” Kirishima supplied.
It didn’t even take a split second before Kirishima and Denki began arguing, their voices bouncing off the chipped, empty walls. The room was dark, devoid of any windows. The only light source came from a light bulb hanging limply in the center. Around the room, there were couches, stools, and chairs scattered while a table sat in the back left corner.
From his side, Shoto walked over to Inasa who was playing a puzzle game on the floor, focusing his attention on finding the correct missing piece instead of listening to the couple bicker.
“‘Sup boss,” Inasa spoke, smiling when the piece he put down fit perfectly.
Camie, who had been reapplying her lipstick, skipped over to Katsuki with a grin. “Lemme pretty you up,” she extended the lipstick to smear it over Katsuki’s plump lips where the red had faded and grinned even wider when he allowed it.
He couldn't see Jirou since his view was filled with Camie’s hand trying to fix his lipstick but he could hear her trying to break up the argument between Kirishima and Denki. God bless her soul, she was the only one willing to put up with their bullshit.
In the center sat their guest.
“That’s enough,” Katsuki called out, his voice echoing out into the room. “We can’t let our visitor wait any longer. That would be rude of us.”
Immediately, all chatter ceased and the gang's eyes zeroed in on the man seated on the chair.
He was asleep (knocked out actually but who cares about details), his arms straining behind him as his wrists were kept in handcuffs. They didn’t like to limit their guests' movements too much, there was no fun in that.
The man himself wasn’t injured much, not yet anyway. However, his whole body was covered in red lipstick marks. It was a way to mark their prey. The Red Lips did not cover just anybody with red stains, no. They only painted their lips red and decorated their guest with marks as a promise to themselves and to the prey that they would not be leaving the room alive.
They were proud of their Red Lip courtesy. No one had ever spoken negatively about it, not that it matters since whoever received their courtesy was 6 feet under.
Katsuki walked up and around the sleeping body, his hand trailing along the man’s torso. He settled behind him and grabbed a chunk of hair tightly which rewarded him a groan from the man. It never failed to send a rush of adrenaline through his body whenever he entered this room and found a man tied to the chair reserved only for their prey.
He placed a kiss on the juncture where the captive’s neck met shoulder and grinned ferally when he looked down at it to appreciate his work. A perfect lipstick mark. Katsuki took a step back and allowed Kirishima space to punch the man back into consciousness.
“Wha-” before he had a chance to complete his question, Kirishima placed the palm of his hand snugly against the man’s throat.
“Greetings,” Denki snorted from his place.
“What the fuck? Who the fuck are you? Let me go you piece of shit,” the man spat, not yet conscious enough to read the room.
Kirishima hummed, appreciating the vibrations under his palm from the guy’s immediate outrage.
“It doesn’t matter who we are. What matters is who you are and how you’re a hindrance to us.”
“A hindrance? What the fuck are you talking about? Let me go before I kill you, fucking bitch!” the man gritted his teeth in a silent growl. Kirishima turned his head slightly to their audience.
Katsuki was never amused when they woke up and had the same reaction. Always yelling and demanding things as if they had a say in the matter at all. He found it more fun when they were quiet or calm even because they thought they would make it out. However, he wouldn’t be named Bakugou Katsuki, king of the Red Lips, if he ever let an enemy exit the doors of this room alive.
“Pray tell, how do we get rid of burdens?” Kirishima declared out into the room.
“We kill them!” Camie piped up, excitement practically pouring liquid off her face. The man froze for a second before thrashing wildly. His movement knocked Kirishima’s hand off his throat, earning him a ‘tch’. There was a troubled look on Inasa’s face, looking at the man who tried fighting for his freedom unsuccessfully. “Poor guy.”
Jirou stepped up, “he's not getting the memo, Kiri. I think we should get him more comfortable.” She walked past the swaying chair to the table in the back. She rummaged through the materials, letting out an ‘aha!’ after finding what she was looking for.
Collectively, everyone in the room except the man on the chair felt a sick smile spread over their face. Their fingers itched to harm the man and make his soul ache.
Jirou strolled back with a hammer that was stained with speckles of dry blood, spinning it in her hand. She made eye contact with the man who began thrashing even more after seeing her walk back with the item.
Denki quickly ran off to grab a stool, tall enough to reach the man's chest and put it down a foot away from his figure. Shoto pulled out a small key from his pocket and unlocked the handcuffs, quickly grabbing the man's wrists.
The man had thought of this to be in his favour and tried to overpower Shoto’s grip, even going as far as to kick at Jirou who was standing beside the stool.
“Hey you’re quite aggressive, we can’t have that.” Shoto kissed his teeth calling out “Soldier” to Inasa who jumped up and replaced Shoto’s grip with his own. He circled the man’s wrists to the front, his grip tight on the man's now bruised wrists.
Katsuki took Shoto’s place behind the man and ran his fingers through the tangled black locks. “Now, now. Let's be civil shall we?” He leaned closer, “Dragon.”
The group huddled around the Dragon mafioso, eyes wide with wicked fascination as Inasa forced one hand on the stool, palm flat down on the cold wooden surface.
Jirou lifted the hammer.
The horrifying crunching sound couldn't drown out the man’s screaming. His pointer finger was reduced to fragments from the force of Jirou’s swing. The man hadn’t yet lowered his scream into a whimper when Jirou lifted the hammer again.
“Wait! Please stop! Please, please, please,” he chanted, belatedly realizing that Jirou had blocked out his pleas and focused her attention on his middle finger.
He cried and cried when his middle finger was destroyed, a trail of snot beginning to mix in with his tears. “Why are you doing this to me? How have I faulted you?”
They all looked at each other in confusion.
“No idea,” Denki shrugged.
“Oh, don't ask me,” Kirishima raised his hands in a defensive stance.
“Do we need a reason?” Todoroki questioned.
“We just like the view from the top, sweetheart,” Katsuki supplied, starting a braid in the mafia man’s hair.
“My turn, my turn!” Camie squeaked like a child and snatched the hammer from Jirou.
Half an hour later, the mafioso had 3 good fingers left and a pool of vomit on the floor. His left leg now laid on the cold concrete, detached from his body. Sections of his skin were peeled off thanks to the sharp knife still in Denki’s hand.
“I think this should be enough, let's just take him out for an airing.” Kirishima wiped the sweat from his brow and put down the hand saw.
Shoto lifted his shirt and pulled out a gun from the holster fitted snugly on his waist. He handed the gun to Katsuki who kissed him softly in appreciation.
“How sad is it,” Katsuki turned to the man on the edge of unconsciousness. ”That after all that luxury and power that came with being the head of a mafia,” Katsuki pressed the nuzzle tightly against the man's forehead, “you die in the back room of a strip club?”
The man didn't have the time to clench his eyes before a bullet lodged itself between his brows, the gunshot blending in with the deafening music.
---
The T.V. crackled loudly in the living room. The news channel played the reports from that morning when suddenly a reporter appeared on screen, frantically relaying the story.
BREAKING NEWS: At 11 am today, the body of 27-year-old Yo Shindo was found in an alleyway behind a local restaurant in the downtown area by a homeless elderly man. The body was found in a garbage bag laying face up, revealing the countless injuries and, strangely, red lipstick marks on the body.
The victim's body condition implies that he has been tortured since 7 of his fingers have been shattered, one of his legs sawed off below the knee, multiple patches of skin peeled off, and several other injuries. Despite all these injuries, his actual cause of death was determined to be a bullet to the brain.
Yo Shindo, or what is left of him, was the ruler of a mafia named the Dragons. Covered in red lipstick marks, there was no guessing who the perpetrators were. It seems this fight for power will not cease until the Red Lips get their fill. More news at 5 pm.