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Hit Me With Your Best Prompts

Chapter Text

She’s been here before.

She isn’t like the rest of them. The men with their hungry eyes and wallets full of banknotes, their gazes fixated toward the stage.

She sits near the back, alone.

The first time had been an accident.

The first time, she’d had a gig at the bar downstairs. Hah! What a joke. The place merely acted as a courtesy for those who needed a break from the upper levels. She’d played to an audience of less than ten, all horny, drunk and bored.

After her hour, she’d slammed back a few shots that cost more than what she’d earned. Fueled by self-righteous indignation and alcohol, she’d slung her guitar over her shoulder and trudged up the grimy stairwell at the back.

The girl on stage is a lot of things.

‘Exotic,’ the men whisper as they stare at her rosy-pink skin and unusually dark eyes.

‘Cute,’ the clusters of drunk girls giggle self-consciously, buying the bride-to-be a lap dance.

‘Beautiful,’ thinks Kyouka as she clenches her fists in her lap.

There are other girls on stage. But Kyouka sees only one.

The girl moves with an air of absolute confidence. She smiles devilishly as she works herself along and around the pole with a level of grace that would rival a professional gymnast. Kyouka wonders if she’s ever professionally trained.

She’s thought about moving closer to the stage. But she’s here by herself, no bachelorette party to conceal her.

She prefers to keep her secrets away from the prying eyes of strangers.

The girl has a name.

Men whistle for her. Girls shriek. The staff serve another round of drinks.


Kyouka had memorized the name before she’d even meant to.

Mina, who dances like a practiced athlete. Mina, whose favourite colour is pink. Mina, who likes glitter, tequila and the summer sun.

Mina, who cackles without apology when a man tries to grab her breasts and finds himself face down on the floor with a bloody nose.

Who Kyouka swears once looked back at her.

Who sometimes looks just a little bit sad.

Mina the goddess.

Mina is too good for these men. She deserves so much more.

A part of Kyouka knows that she is no better than them.

This is the last time, she tells herself.

Mina leaves the stage.

Kyouka stands. She hefts her guitar onto her back. She’s due on her own stage soon. Best make the few blocks now.

‘Goodbye,’ Kyouka thinks.

She turns to head down the stairs.


She’s seen her before. Of course she has.

No, not there, sitting at the back with the shadows cast over her face.

Down at the bar, a couple of months ago.

She’d come in for her regular shift through the rear employee entrance.

An unfamiliar tune had caught her off guard.

The girl had sung with an air of gravity. Her voice, husky and soulful, had reverberated throughout the mostly empty room. Her lyrics were a spun poem that had fallen onto deaf ears, her eyes closed against her dreary surroundings.

She was too good for this place.

She’d tried to go out after the show once. The girl had already left.

She was always quick to leave.

Tonight will be different.

Tonight Mina performs for her.

It’s hard to see beyond that front row of gaping, drooling men. Oh, how she’d love to throw a fistful of acid into their faces for getting in her way.

She catches a glimpse of the guitar.

Backstage, Mina wraps a compression bandage around her knee. She hums to herself, waving as one of her sisters passes her by.

She slips into her thigh-high stockings, pleated skirt and warm, oversized wool sweater. She wraps her scarf around her neck and pulls her winter coat on.

A couple of minutes later, Mina pokes her head out the front entrance. She spots a guitar case disappearing around the corner a couple of blocks away.

She sneaks through the streets, a pleased smile flitting at her lips.

Mina locates the bar after a few wrong turns.

She takes a seat away from the stage, ordering a drink from the server with a flirtatious twist of her lips. It makes the woman blush.

The girl takes the stage.

Mina taps her fingernails on the table.

Tonight it’s her turn to watch.

The audience is larger this time. The girl’s voice is even more wonderful than Mina remembers.

It makes love to the audience.

Every now and then Mina chances a peek around the edge of her booth. The girl’s hairstyle flatters her face, she decides. Her ears are unusual, but striking.

Mina enjoys the chills that run up and down her spine.

She is beautiful.

It’s over in an hour. The audience claps politely.

Mina lets out a little whoop.

The girl’s mouth quirks. She bows her head then climbs off the stool, turning her back on the crowd to gather her guitar case.

Mina takes a breath to steady herself. It’s been a while since she’s remembered her nerves.

Mina stands and approaches the stage.



An unfamiliar voice takes Kyouka by surprise. She closes her case, turns and freezes.

It’s her. The goddess.

She’s dressed—oh Lord, she’s dressed—very cutely. Her dark eyes shimmer.

What is she doing here? Here, of all places?

Kyouka realizes her mouth is open. She closes it, swallows, and tries to ignore the wild hammering in her chest.

“Hey,” she says, her voice a half-whisper.

Mina’s lips purse, her eyelids fluttering seductively.

Kyouka blushes.

She feels naked.

Mina tilts her head, her eyes sparkling with excitement, her smile devious.

A thrill. A push over the edge of a cliff.

The beginning.

Mina opens her mouth to speak.

“What’s your name?”

Chapter Text

Katsuki smelled it before he saw it.

He stepped out of the elevator, hands full of the rest of his and Izuku’s Christmas shopping, and was immediately hit in the face with a burnt, smoky odour. As he approached the door to their flat he caught a muffled cry of “No, No NO NO NONONO!”

Katsuki wasn’t one to panic, but when he saw the thin trail of smoke winding its way from underneath their front door he dropped his bags and barreled down the hallway, nearly blowing the door off its hinges.

The first thing he felt was relief, because neither Izuku nor their apartment was on fire.

The second thing he felt was anger, because his boyfriend of three years was holding one of Katsuki’s very nice, very expensive baking sheets between his gloved hands, now charred black. Odd-looking shapes the colour of charcoal smoked heavily on the tray. More smoke emanated from the gaping maw of their oven and spilled out into the kitchen.

Izuku’s head snapped up when Katsuki blew through the door and into their kitchen, his expression a combination of surprise and despair.

“Kacchan!” he cried out in devastation as he threw the smoking tray and its contents into the sink. He grabbed a second sheet from the oven, flames licking at the edges of the mysterious shapes.

“What the hell, Deku?!” Katsuki roared as Izuku flung the second sheet into the sink and tossed off his oven mitts.

“I’m sorry!” Izuku shouted back, turning on the faucet and splashing water over the trays until the flames subsided. Katsuki approached the oven and turned it off. Smoke hung heavily in the air. He’d be coughing if he wasn’t so damned used to it.

Izuku turned the water off and wrung his hands as he looked at Katsuki, biting his lip. “I wanted to surprise you,” he said, looking away in shame. “Everything was going well until my mom called. I guess I got distracted.”

Distracted was the understatement of the year. “Idiot, that’s why you set a timer!” Katsuki snapped.

“I know, I know,” Izuku whimpered. “I forgot.”

Katsuki stomped over to the kitchen sink. A strangled noise rose in the back of his throat. Those were his favourite sheets! How the hell had Izuku managed to burn whatever these were supposed to be so badly? That had to be a skill in itself. He turned around to give Izuku a piece of his mind but the despondent look on his boyfriend’s face gave him pause.

Stop. Breathe in. One, two… three.

Katsuki closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “It fucking reeks in here,” he muttered, trudging over to the nearest window and opening it to clear the air.

Izuku said nothing.

Katsuki returned to the kitchen and gave Izuku a once-over. “You didn’t burn yourself, did you?” he asked gruffly.

Izuku shook his head. “I’m fine,” he mumbled.

Katsuki went over to the smoke detector in the hallway. “Why the hell didn’t this stupid thing go off?” he snapped, taking his frustration out on the inanimate object rather than Izuku. He gave it a good flick and the smoke detector immediately sounded.


Katsuki cursed loudly and grabbed at his ears while Izuku rushed over with a tea towel and beat at the thing frantically until it quieted. Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

Then, out of nowhere, Izuku began to laugh helplessly.

The ridiculousness of the situation began to dawn on Katsuki, and he snorted once before he caught himself and turned around. Izuku ran his hands down his face and groaned, following Katsuki back into the kitchen.

Katsuki took a final look at the trays. He poked at the edge of one of the black shapes. It didn’t budge. The things were burnt so badly they had actually fused to the sheets. There was no saving them.

“I’m really sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku said quietly, wrapping his arms around the blonde’s waist from behind. “I know you liked those ba-”

“What were these even supposed to be?” Katsuki interrupted, not wanting to think about his poor baking sheets any longer.

Izuku peered over the blonde’s shoulder and down into the sink. He winced. “I was making Christmas cookies,” he said. He released Katsuki and went over to a cupboard, rummaging through the back and pulling out a pair of red-and-yellow cookie cutters. “I found these vintage All Might-shaped cutters a couple weeks back. I thought you might like them.” Izuku sighed and hung his head. “I was going to put little Santa hats on them. I really wanted to surprise you.”

Katsuki would never admit it but he hated seeing Izuku looking so dejected. He put his hands on his hips and glared at the ceiling. “Well, I was definitely surprised,” he said.

Izuku chuckled humourlessly and swiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

Katsuki stared at Izuku, then shook his head and trudged towards their apartment door. “Come on,” he said.

Izuku raised his head. “Huh?”

Katsuki opened the door. Their bags were still lying in the hallway by the elevator. “We’re gonna need some new sheets if we’re gonna make more,” he grumbled. “There’s still a couple hours before the stores clos-”

Katsuki felt a substantial weight throw itself against his back. He grunted and stumbled forward out the door. He reached behind him and secured Izuku’s legs without a second thought.

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed delightedly, wrapping his muscular arms around Katsuki’s neck. He buried his face into Katsuki’s upper back then began peppering his neck, shoulders and the sides of his jaw with kisses.

“Fuck, Deku, what-” Katsuki started to say, but it was very hard to stay mad when Izuku was showering him with little pecks everywhere within reach. He sucked in his cheeks, because like hell Izuku was going to make him smile. “When the hell did you get so heavy?” he complained instead.

Izuku only laughed against Katsuki’s skin as he continued his attack.

Katsuki staggered towards the dropped bags and leaned forward so Izuku could retrieve them. If any of their neighbours had opened their doors they’d be wondering why the currently ranked #9 hero was giving the currently ranked #8 hero a piggyback ride down the middle of their hallway.

Fifteen minutes later, Katsuki and Izuku, bundled up in winter garb, stepped into the elevator together.

“I love you,” Izuku said as the doors closed, leaning into Katsuki.

Katsuki stuck his hands in his pockets and tilted his head, rubbing his hair affectionately against Izuku’s face.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied. He supposed there were worse things than a couple of burnt sheets.

Chapter Text

“'Beg for me. Cry out my name. I want to hear you,'” Nemuri said seductively, her mouth twitching.

Yuu snorted then dissolved into giggles. “Wow,” she said. “Things are really heating up.”

“Uh huh,” Nemuri replied distractedly. She swirled the wine in her glass lazily, her eyes on her phone. She raised the stemmed glass to her lips and almost choked.

“What, what?” Yuu cried out with glee. She sat up excitedly, crawling over to the far side of the bed. The sheets were soft and plush and it was all too tempting to curl up like a cat and fall asleep. The wine in her own glass sloshed precariously as she pressed herself close to Nemuri.

Nemuri tilted the screen towards her. “'Nemuri-chan, Mt. Lady moaned, grasping the bed sheets between her hands,'” she read in a breathy voice. “‘I’ve wanted you for so long. P-Please, senpai. Touch me.’”

“Senpai!” Yuu screeched. She threw herself onto her back, giggling hysterically and kicking her legs in the air.

Nemuri laughed too. She plucked Yuu’s wine glass from her hand and, maintaining eye contact, took a long, slow drink.

Tears streamed down Yuu’s face. “Hey,” she whined. She hiccoughed. “Give it.”

Nemuri withheld the glass until Yuu was sitting properly again. Yuu grabbed the item back as though it were precious.

“Drunk already?” Nemuri teased.

“No way,” Yuu replied. She held her hand out towards Nemuri’s phone. “My turn.”

Nemuri handed her phone to Yuu, who accepted it greedily. She took the bottle of cabernet from her nightstand and split it between their glasses. It hadn’t taken long for the two of them to finish it.

“'Midnight took her riding crop and traced its flat end over Mt. Lady’s ample curves,'” Yuu read, snickering. “‘Not yet, my little k-kouhai.’” Yuu cackled, and Nemuri shoved her fist into her mouth.

Yuu continued. “‘F-First I’m going to torture you and fill you with a burning desire so powerful that you’ll—oh my God!—you’ll be drenched before I’ve laid a single finger on you!’”

Nemuri broke. She burst into laughter, rolling backwards onto the duvet. The wine sloshed over the edge of her glass and trickled down her hand and forearm.

“Who comes up with this stuff?” Yuu said, draping her legs lazily across Nemuri.

“The Plus Ultra Official Fanfiction Club: Tokyo Chapter,” Nemuri replied, grinning from ear to ear. “Emi-chan told me about it.”

“I am in love,” Yuu declared. She scrolled a little further into the story. “Oh,” she said. She paused. “That’s kind of hot.”

Nemuri scooted a little closer to Yuu. “What is?”

Yuu pointed at a passage on screen.

Nemuri read it then looked at Yuu inquisitively. “Can you even bend like that?” she asked.

“Want to find out?” Yuu asked.

Nemuri’s grin became catlike. “Oh, yes,” she said.

Yuu batted her eyelashes. She brought her glass to her lips and downed the contents in a single gulp.

“Classy girl,” Nemuri purred. She took the glass from Yuu and set them both on the nightstand.

Yuu rearranged herself into her best impression of a sexy pose. “You love me,” she drawled.

“Lucky for you,” Nemuri said, pressing her lips against Yuu’s.

“Lucky for you, old hag,” Yuu retorted. Her hands wandered over Nemuri’s toned stomach and hips.

“Better watch what you say,” Nemuri warned, her eyes sparkling dangerously. She grabbed Yuu’s arms and rolled her onto her back, pinning her between her legs. “You might find yourself in a world of trouble, kouhai.”

Yuu raised a dramatic hand to her forehead. “Whatever shall I do?” She smirked wickedly. “Please me gentle with me. Sen. Pai.”

Nemuri gazed upon Yuu’s form. Her eyes were dull with drink, her lips stained with wine. Yuu was undoubtedly beautiful, but she looked best between Nemuri’s thighs.

Nemuri touched Yuu’s cheek, letting her fingers linger before they moved south. They trailed over Yuu’s breasts, stomach, then between her legs.

“Mm,” Nemuri murmured, leaning in to recapture Yuu’s lips. “No promises.”