Ruby Red and Caramel
Chapter 4: Cabernet Sauvignon

AN: Note the change in rating please. Mature stuff up ahead T_T


"Creati, the Everything Hero," the blonde repeats with an inelegant snort.

Momo giggles and takes another sip of the Cabernet Sauvignon in her glass. Her third or her fourth, probably. She isn't too sure of it, not at this hour. All she's sure of is that the air is nice and cool around them, that Mssrs. Monoma and Aoyama are singing a fluent, yet off-key version La Vie En Rose inside the cafe, and that she has Bakugou Katsuki's company, all to herself, for the past hour or so, and she's enjoying him. Extremely.

"You think it's too kitschy?"

Katsuki shakes his head slightly. He's cradling his head in one hand as he always does, piercing eyes on her and nothing else. "Nah. Suits you. I ain't sure about that skimpy shit you were planning to traipse around in, though."

"You know the nature of my quirk! I need as much skin exposure as I could," she argues. "Although, that's one of the main concerns of my mother, when I was considering which career track to take…"

"Yeah. Pro Hero, Professional Pianist, Ballerina, Materials Engineer." Katsuki chortles again. "Woulda been interesting if you decided to do 'em all. You'd be the literal Everything Hero. Fighting a villain at 1 then giving a concerto at 3 in your little red bathing suit."

The smile he gives her reminds her of how lightheaded she is. Oh. The wine is very, very good. She slaps him playfully on the arm, but it does nothing to stop his gleeful laughter.

"You know that's impossible," she says with a flush of her cheeks. "But that's the story of how I ended up in Shiketsu High's general studies." It's her turn to stare him down with her hand under her chin, as she asks slyly, "So what's your middle school pro-hero fantasy, Katsuki?"

He hums with a sly smile of his own. "Who says I got one, huh?"

She scoffs. "You just told me everyone fantasizes about being a pro during middle school!"

"What if I'm not like the rest of the extras?"

She puffs her chest in annoyance. "Is this your attempt at a dark and mysterious persona, Katsuki? Because you're just being unfair. You rarely tell me anything about yourself-all I know is that you own a cafe, you went to UA with Kirishima-san, you like explosives, and you have the smarts of an encyclopedia and the vocabulary of a pirate, and-"

He gives her a wink. "Maybe that's all ya need to know about me."

She pouts. "No. Come on. Pro-hero fantasy stories. Now."

Her glass is jarringly empty suddenly. She reaches for the bottle, but Katsuki stops her by holding her hand.

Fingers entwine, trapping her. His hands are large, and rough, and so, so warm. She holds her breath as his callused fingertips rub against the back of her hand.

"That's enough, Momo." The bottle is placed just out of her reach. "I change my mind about letting you get shit-faced."

She pouts. "It's very good wine, Katsuki. You wouldn't know because you don't drink, but-"

When she tries to let his hand go to reach for the bottle, he stops her again. This time, both hands capture hers and pin them down on the table. She realizes, with minimal alarm, that the lightheadedness has extended to her alcohol-numbed fingers. Try as she might to struggle against his searing iron grip, there's no escape. Eventually she gives up and collapses in a fit of giggles over the table.

Another smile, and she feels a little weaker. "Drink your fucking water, doc. Seriously, you doctors are shit at taking care of your damn selves…"

"Fine," she says, and obediently takes a drink from Katsuki's glass of water. She drains about half a glass in one go, and unsteadily places it on the surface. She gives him a proud little look when she doesn't spill a drop. He laughs.

"Hey, Baku-bro! Dr. Momo! There you are!"

Kirishima and Satou come out of the party. As the door closes behind them, Momo catches a glimpse of Mina leading everyone in an impromptu Zumba routine. The redhead gives them both a knowing grin as he ambles behind a suddenly irritated Katsuki. "You two look like you're enjoying each other's company, eh?"

"The fuck is it, Shitty Hair?" Katsuki grits, as Kirishima's arm goes around him quite naturally, almost like it's muscle memory at this point. Momo is relieved to see that Katsuki just takes it, despite his abrasive reaction to it.

"Nothing! I'm not implying anything! Just stating the obvious!"

"Go state the obvious somewhere else, Hedgehog-head! Preferably the bathroom, so you could start chipping that hair gel off your head."

Momo giggles a little too much at that, making Satou look to her with concern.

"You okay there, Dr. Momo?" the chef says carefully. He has a bottle of water in one hand, and he refills the water-glass in front of her. "You seem kinda… more giggly than usual."

She giggles again. "I… may be a little inebriated," she admits, holding her face with two hands. The numbness isn't getting worse, but she feels how warm her cheeks are, and guesses that she's likely a little redder than usual.

Tch, goes Katsuki's mouth, as it always does. "She finished off this bottle of Cabernet by herself, Diabetes. And she woulda downed another bottle if I didn't stop her, so… Yeah, she's fuckin' more than just a little inebriated. "

"Katsuki!"

"What, Momo? Mad that I snitched, and Diabetes knows how shit-faced you really are?"

Satou and Kirishima stare at each other questioningly. A second later, they're grinning at each other, and it is only then that Momo realizes that they heard them call each other by their first names.

"Hm, Katsuki, eh~?" Kirishima says teasingly, earning him a hard shove at the face. "Oh my gosh, you two are so cute, why didn't you tell me? Ain't I your best friend? And can I just say, congratulations? Dr. Momo, I ain't sayin' your taste in men is somethin' else, but I can vouch for this guy, he'll take care of you so good you won't even know-"

"Shut up!" Katsuki grits out, and the face-shoving progresses into a headlock. Momo is alarmed, but Satou regards this as if it's an entirely normal thing to happen, and does nothing to stop it.

"W-well, whatever it is, you two," the chef says, clearing his throat. He looks at Momo with concern and says, "I don't mean to be rude, but I think it's time to call it a night, Doc? You got work tomorrow, right?"

How late is it, anyway? She fishes out her phone and gasps. "Oh my, it's two in the morning! You're right, Satou-san! I must be getting home…"

She stands up straight and takes a step. She thinks it isn't too unsteady. But she takes another and her vision wobbles, and in the next instant she's flanked at both sides by Katsuki and Satou, and Kirishima is in front of her with his hands out.

"Whoa, careful there," Satou says with a nervous laugh. "You really need to get home. I should get you a cab-"

"No," Katsuki says. Momo feels a strong hand on her arm, making all the blood rush to her face. "I know where she lives. I'll take her home."

Satou and Kirishima look at each other again worriedly. "You sure, Baku-bro?" asks the red-head. "Mina and I have a car, we can drive you guys home…"

"Nah. The walk will sober her up," Katsuki says, pulling on her arm and forcing her into another step. "You can manage it, right Momo?"

She doesn't stumble, thankfully, and she's able to resume walking in her normal charm-school trained gait and posture without any further trouble. "Yes, I'm sure."

Kirishima doesn't look very sure when he says, "I guess, but… you gonna be okay, Bakugou? It's… late and all."

Where has Momo heard this type of careful, concerned tone before? Next to her, Katsuki bristles slightly, but only grits out, "Yeah, it's fine. I can take care of Ponytail."

"Yeah, but you-"

The explosive blonde makes a sound of exasperation. "Fuckin'-if it gets your fuckin' panties in a twist, shitty mom, I'll text ya when I get this brainiac home. Heck, I'll even send a video of me throwing her through her front door, if that's what gets yer shitty hair-for-brains to stop worrying about me-"

Oh Momo you did not just feel weak in the knees thinking about Katsuki throwing you through your front door with those strong arms of his and slamming you against the wall in the hallway-

"Baku-bro, I'm just lookin' out for ya, all right? I mean, I know that-"

But seriously, this argument is getting strange. The red-head has a true look of concern on his face, strangely prophetic in a way, as if he expects the blonde to keel over in the next moment. Or turn into a werewolf. Kirishima softly holds on to Katsuki, as if he's holding something fragile. Before he could finish his sentence, Katsuki rolls his shoulder in annoyance, shaking it off.

"-fucking hell, everyone's such a fucking worrywart it's fucking annoying- "

"All right you two. We get it, your bromance transcends other dimensions and all, but it's getting really late and your argument ain't makin' it any less late." Satou towers over them and pulls them apart, slapping Katsuki at the back decidedly as he does so. "Anyway, you guys live ridiculously close by, and this is a safe area, so it should be okay. Bakugou, take the doc home and send us a message once you're home, okay?"

Katsuki grumbles in affirmation. He pulls on the stunned Momo's arm in an oddly careful way, and she holds onto his as she steps in time with him.

Kirishima is looking at them, still plainly worried. Momo turns to him and says, "We'll be okay, Kirishima-san. I'll take care of Katsuki."

He brightens considerably at this, even though Katsuki scoffs. "Okay, Dr. Momo. Please take care of my bro."

She gives them a small wave of the hand, and with that, they leave the still-noisy cafe and enter the quiet and chill of Hosu in the early morning.


The walk home, in the beginning, is quiet and uneventful. Katsuki leads them through familiar streets and stoplights to Momo's condominium, not speaking a single word along the way.

Her heels clacking on the pavement is the only noise between them. They echo all over empty streets and bounce off the alley walls. Momo doesn't mind the quiet very much. It's comfortable. Peaceful, yes, but it makes her aware of their proximity, and causes her heart to beat wildly as she takes in each and every sensation: the glow of city lights crawling on their skin and clothes with each step; the chill causing thin puffs of fog to form on their breaths; the feel of his arm, hooked around hers, where it's warmest on her body at that moment. Where it belongs.

The distinct scent of him, subtle in the cold but unmistakable from their distance. She finds it pleasant. Addicting, even.

The rush of blood through her veins. The steady beating of her heart.

Her head is swimming, dangerously so. Katsuki told everyone that the walk will sober her up, but she isn't sure that being hyper-aware of all these sensations is doing anything good for her sobriety, if it exists at all even transiently at this hour. She tries to use her voice, just to see if it still works. "We're close to home."

She doesn't slur, which is a good sign. Katsuki hums in agreement beside her, a rasp that vibrates through him and magnifies the throb in her chest.

"You still drunk?" he asks at a stoplight.

She hums, a noncommittal sound. Stares up at him. A smile is on her face. She thinks that she might look a little more foolish than usual. She knows she's acting batty, but she can't stop it.

He stares at her with an eyebrow raised, and makes an odd sound through his nostrils. "Guess that answers my fuckin' question."

His irises are really red, she thinks. Like the stoplight glowing in front of them. Like the wine she apparently haphazardly ingested just a while ago. Like the costume she designed for herself, back when she indulged in her middle school fantasies of pro-heroism. Like the blood flowing through her veins.

It's a good colour, she thinks again, for the umpteenth time. Her favourite, in fact.

"The fuck you starin' at?"

She hums again, a little playfully this time, the corners of her mouth involuntarily curling upwards. "You, of course."

Katsuki swears again, but with the rough laugh-snort that can only belong to him. "I am telling Diabetes to never fucking get you near that shit wine again."

"It's good wine ," she mumbles, as red lights become green. The blonde pulls her forward.

The air around them becomes cooler. She leans in closer to him instinctively for warmth.

Three more blocks to go, and their walk will end with her drunk and alone and empty in her condominium. She racks her brain for something intelligent to say, or just something else, something to change the course of the night. Make it special and memorable, because she doesn't want this night to end. Not like that.

Still, the good wine is making it hard for her to form any good words to say.

A spot of cold, concentrated and damp, lands on her nose. She blinks and stares upwards, where little darts of rain begin to fall sparsely.

"Shit," Katsuki grumbles under his breath. As rain often does, in the next moment it falls all at once, covering both of them in a sheet of cold water as they make a run for it.

Through the torrent of rain, she struggles with her heels. The sound of it jars some sense into her drunken self, at least, and she manages to form a crimson golf umbrella in the middle of her chest.

"Here," she says, covering them both under its shade, for the little good it does-the winds are unexpectedly strong, and even though the umbrella helps, they're still damp. Cars pass by, splashing her jersey dress and bare legs in grey mud. Water gets in their shoes, and she feels one of her heels bend and break as it gets caught in between a gap in the concrete.

She almost falls, but Katsuki catches her before her face makes contact with flooded concrete. "Fuckin' rain, this better not be somebody's quirk or else I'm fuckin' killing someone…"

"I'm okay. I don't think I have a sprain," she tells him as she struggles momentarily with her shoes. Sobriety slaps her, like the dirty cold water on her bare feet. "Give me a moment to make something for my feet…"

"Fuck that." He turns her back to her and crouches low, his arms bent oddly behind him.

Momo stares at him incredulously, unsure of what he wants to happen before he spits out, "Just get the fuck on, princess. Before we fuckin' drown. "

"Oh-" she says quite intelligently. The rain is falling around them even more mercilessly. No time for her to hesitate.

Holding her breath, she 'gets the fuck on,' as Katsuki so eloquently put it. She feels herself lifted easily off the ground by two solid arms. He isn't unsteady at all, but she wraps one arm tightly around his shoulders all the same.

"You good?"

"Good," she tells him. Holds him closer, smells him along with the cold air. He's so close, she almost can't stand it.

Without another word, Katsuki rushes through the streets. He runs as if the streets aren't dangerously slick, and as if Momo isn't hanging off of him like a possessive spirit carrying a ridiculously large umbrella.

They make a different turn. As Momo makes a questioning sound, Katsuki cuts her off. "My apartment is right there," he growls, motioning to a complex at the other end of the side street they just ducked in.

His… his apartment, she thinks with a squeak as Katsuki practically flies across the remaining stretch of concrete. It's more practical, indeed, rather than to brave three more blocks of rain to her place, but…

A man's apartment. A single man's apartment. No… Bakugou Katsuki's apartment , the private, intimate confines owned by the man she's been ridiculously pining for, for the past few weeks. This is going far, farther than she ever expected. Her brain is a stuttering mess by the time they're at the gate.

When they make it into the apartment and Katsuki lets her down, both of them are soaked to the bone, clothes clinging uncomfortably to their cold skin, their breaths thicker than ever. She leaves the silly, unhelpful umbrella out in the hall to dry, and patiently waits for Katsuki to struggle with his keys and the doorknob.

The door opens, revealing a tidy, modest space. From her vantage point, Momo sees bookshelves, a single low table, a television set, a sizeable kitchenette. There is a hardback novel on the table, next to a notepad with scribbles. A closed door at a distance, probably leading to his bedroom.

It's his, all his. Bakugou Katsuki's home. Something in the back of her mind swirls like a siren, daring her to take one step onto the wooden tile, to go past the point of no return.

He stares as she hesitates. "You comin' or what?"

She nods. Clutches her broken heels tightly, to brace herself. One barefoot crosses the threshold carefully, then two.

It's warm inside, and bright, and smells like fresh linen. Her heart throbs, taking in all the details, inhaling all the scent. Her face warms when she smells him as he hovers close and reaches behind her.

Katsuki closes the door with a gentle click, echoing much louder in her head than it's supposed to.

"Pardon the intrusion," she says softly, her voice a meek whisper that escapes from the chill of her body.

She walks quietly inside, a little ashamed of the trail of water-drops that follow her into the middle of the living room. She stands there awkwardly as Katsuki relieves her of her belongings, disappears momentarily in his room, and comes out with fluffy towels. He places one over her head like a cowl. The other one he rubs into his face and his hair, rougher than what's needed, in an attempt to bring himself to his senses, if Momo were to make an educated guess.

"Right," he rasps out. His skin, pale against the cold, recovers its color as they stare at each other, as the warmth begins to seep through. "You're going to catch a fucking cold if you don't warm up soon."

"Y-yes. We both are," she agrees. All the headiness from the Cabernet disappears, replaced by an entirely new sensation that sends little tremors in her hands, her chest, her feet.

She lets him push her around the living room and into a modest, clean bathroom. He reaches out and turns on the shower, and nods in satisfaction when steam begins to rise.

"In. Now," he says threateningly. "I'll get you some clothes. Unless ya wanna make some with your quirk?"

She shakes her head. "N-no… I'd rather avoid it, if I can. The-"

"The economy. I know." He gives her a little smirk and disappears behind the door, leaving her to stare dumbly at her reflection in his mirror.

Her hair is disheveled, skin bright against the cold, except for her cheeks, which are turning pinker every second. She's still a little lightheaded, her forehead a little warm, and she's worried that all the traipsing in the rain might lead to a fever.

The shower is warm and inviting. Carefully she steps in, letting the skin of her feet adjust to the heat. The door opens behind her, and she hears Katsuki's amused snort amidst the steady sound of falling water.

"So," he says, his voice teasing, his eyes doing something else entirely. He places dry clothes on the counter, stares her down with an eyebrow raised. "Are you getting out of that fucked-up dress anytime soon, or am I gonna have to do it for ya?"

He says it sarcastically rather than perversely, in his normal mocking tone, the one he uses when he does his little acts of charity like she's a stray he's responsible for. Momo catches the subtle little swallow he makes before he speaks, though.

She's aware of how she must look-the off-shoulder dress she's wearing is heavy with rain water and mud, the cut now lower than it ought to be because of gravity. The steam continues to rise around her, moistening her skin, the steady heat making it flush pink. She isn't ashamed, oddly enough, even when she sees his eyes hover and linger over bare skin, before focusing on her mouth.

"Do you think I need help?" she starts, teasingly, then freezing all at once when he steps closer to her.

She takes a step back, stopping when she feels the glass of the stall behind her. He's right in front of her, not moving, ruby red piercing through black.

Hesitant, nervous silence. Katsuki is so close, Momo is sure that she hears the rush of his blood through him, emanating from the pulse point at his right hand as he lifts it up to the side of her face. He tucks a soggy lock of her hair behind her ear and looks right into her eyes.

She exhales as quietly as her quivering mouth allows. Her hands are reaching out for his shirt, undoes the buttons gently and deftly until she's able to push the fabric, stubbornly clinging on his skin, off, and she's able to expose the skin of his chest, his abs.

She lets her hands run over them once, slowly. She hears him exhale a little too loudly, feels the rapid throb of his heart under her right hand, under her touch.

"Hey… you're cold, too."

She moves her hands to do it again, to appreciate the feel of those muscles move with his breath under her hands. But his warm hands capture hers, and push them back into her sides, where they can do no harm.

"Momo," he breathes, voice ragged, eyes hooded. "You're still drunk."

She shakes her head. "The walk sobered me up, like you said." She raises her hand and rests it on his face, fingers curling over the warmth of his face. "As did the rain. I'm fine."

He doesn't push her hand away. "You're still fuckin' drunk. You can't just-"

Whatever words he's about to say stops in their tracks, as she moves her face closer and catches his mouth with hers, stunning him into silence.

She hasn't kissed anyone in a long while, and a tiny portion of her is frightened that the way their teeth and noses collide and the clumsy way she pushes her mouth against his makes it obvious. But most of her mind, the parts that are blindingly sober and aware and decided is ravenous and tells her that she's waited too long for this.

When has she been this forward, this shameless? Why is she enjoying the way she hears Katsuki's breath catches in his throat, the stunned look in his eyes, the sweet moment she actually renders him speechless?

She opens her mouth for a short inhale, and so does he. He closes the gap between them immediately, as if the milliseconds they're apart is too long, making up for the absence by letting his tongue dance inside her mouth, tasting the traces of wine within, making enticing sounds as he does so.

He pushes her through the stall, and water rushes over their heads, past their ears, covering them in steam and sound. The shock of the rapid temperature change makes her gasp, but she doesn't let him go.

Still, she feels him tighten his grip on her shoulders, feels him push them apart with whatever dregs of self-control there is between them.

Swollen lips, eyes in an obvious haze, water dripping over his face, his eyelashes, he slurs, "Momo... if you want me to stop at any time-"

She shakes her head. "Don't…"

He stares at her. He is stunned, obviously thrown off, but doesn't move.

She moves forward, closes the gap between them once more. His lips are so soft. She feels the burn of his hands over her bare skin, despite the water that runs between them, and it feels so good . She moves down, hears the delicious moan that escapes from him, as she tastes the side of his neck and feels the salt and the burning sweetness flood her mouth.

"Don't stop, Katsuki," she breathes against his skin. Pleads. Her hands reach out to run through his damp hair.

So he doesn't.

He kisses her sweetly, roughly-she knows with each sharp inhale and dig of his fingernails on damp flesh that he's waited for her too, that he wants her as much as she does. The gravity of his want throws her in a paradox of a boldness that she didn't know lingered in her, as well as an overwhelming weakness that leaves her knees weak.

His hands run all over the ridiculously soaked fabric of her jersey dress. She guides one of them over one shoulder, to push it down. Another one to her back, where she guides her fingers to the zipper that he tugs down impatiently, sending the doused cloth to drop in a messy heap on the bathroom tile around her.

"Fuck," he breathes against her mouth, hands running over her sides, feverishly appreciating all her curves with pressure and heat from his callused, explosive skin. "You're so fuckin' perfect -so beautiful, all mine, you're all mine-"

She shudders as his words vibrate through her. In turn, she finally him of the silly soaked shirt, leaving her hands free to roam over those arms she's spent an eternity admiring from a distance.

"Get this shit off of you," he grumbles in frustration, slippery hands working on her black satin undergarment set. She laughs when he growls like an animal practically tears the heavy garment off her body, and gasps when his bare hand runs over her fully naked body for the first time.

She whines in the next moment, her clumsy fingers working on the buttons of his slacks. "You have to get rid of this too."

He laughs and pulls her hands off of him. "Patience, princess." He reaches out for a bottle of shower gel, works a handful of it into foam. "You're dirty. Literally. I gotta take care of you."

She makes a sound of mock-protest-he looks at her, asking her with his eyes if he should stop. She responds by grabbing those soapy hands and letting them roam over her shoulders, her chest, her stomach. She giggles when he moans appreciatively when he reaches behind her to squeeze her bottom. Eventually, he's bending over to scrub the mud off her legs, carefully lifting her feet one at a time to really get to the stubborn spots of dirt there.

He looks ridiculous, half-clothed in soaked slacks and soapy from all his efforts cleaning her, so she returns the favor. She gets a handful of soap and rubs it over spots of his bare skin he allows her to reach-his neck, shoulders, abs. She finally gets those silly pants off, and they fall in a mess on the tile with her dress.

"Fuck." He hisses, as she works on his thighs, the tense area over his boxers straining with his arousal. "I gotta-I gotta get you in the bedroom, fuck-"

He rinses them off in the speed of light and dries them off with a towel even faster than that. She can't help but laugh at all the sounds of frustration he makes with each movement.

Their mouths barely leaving each other, he finally, finally lifts her in his arms, and after a brief clumsy stumble out the bathroom and across the living room, he shoves her roughly against a different door and presses her against it.

The slam knocks the wind out of her, a surprised sound escaping her. He freezes, momentarily regretful that he might have overdone it, but she holds on to him tighter, kissing him more ferociously than ever.

"You like that, princess?" he asks in between, equal parts incredulous and aroused. His fingers tighten around her hips to the point of bruising.

She whimpers at the pressure and at the way she feels him grin against her skin. "Since the first cup of coffee-"

"Fuck yeah," He hisses and dips his head down.

"I-" she gasps, as she feels teeth against her collar bone, the base of her neck. She moans as he leaves a mark there. "-like you, Katsuki," she breathes as she struggles for some semblance of clear thought. "I have for some time now-"

Since I saw you, she wants to say. Realizes for herself, at the same time. She doesn't speak, though. Can't speak. Can hardly think, with the sound of blood rushing through her ears-

The door gives way behind them, and she finds herself crossing the threshold into his bedroom. She feels herself breathless and hopelessly aroused once more when he disconnects her mouth from her to lift her in his strong arms, again, to throw her onto his bed.

(She's played this scene shamelessly over and over in her mind, but nothing compares to the reality, to the giddiness of being overpowered so easily like this. Staring up at him rather helplessly, half-naked and weak, as he hovers over her, able to do all that he wants to her-)

Nothing but the moonlight through the window, to illuminate his ridiculously strong silhouette, the hunger in those ruby eyes. For a few moments, both too long and too short, he stands at the foot of his own bed.

"Katsuki," she whispers, his name reverent on her tongue. He's beautiful, more beautiful than she ever imagined. She's shameless when she looks at his muscled thighs, the bulge in his underwear, his chiseled abs and chest, his face as he stares her down just as shamelessly.

Fiery eyes dart over the skin of her legs, her belly, her breasts. He stares at her swollen lips a fraction too long before moving on to her eyes.

She's frozen in place as he crawls over her and places a gentle hand over her cheek.

"Momo." His voice is rough and intoxicating, his eyes even more so. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she breathes, and pulls him closer. She makes her own mark on him, and his hands wander down once more to the curve of her breasts, to her sides, to the side of her hip.

His head moves down, to explore her further. She feels his hands and his mouth worship her in places that don't see the light of day. She shudders and moans as he feels her tongue on her and inside her. All she's able to do is to pull on his hair desperately. This goads him on further, becomes more merciless with his ministrations.

Mine, his voice echoes in her head, as she lets him have his way with her. Or perhaps it's her voice now, she isn't too sure. She's been waiting for this for too long.

She cries out his name, shamelessly, more than once. He crawls on top of her, places a burning kiss on her mouth, pressing his entire body on to her. Her nails go down his back, and he feels his sharp inhale against her. She feels his arousal against hers.

"Momo," he growls again, his eyes burning embers despite the darkness. "Do you want-"

"Don't stop," she growls right back, pulling his head down to kiss him further.

He hums against her mouth gratefully, and reaches out for a foil in his bedside drawer.

She watches as he tears it open, his eyes never leaving her. She wants to catch her breath as he prepares himself, but he isn't letting her. One hand is on himself, while the other keeps itself busy below her, inside her, teasing the sensitive areas he discovered with his mouth awhile ago. Her head is still spinning from her last release, and spins still when he bends over to kiss her on the neck, and aligns himself against her.

"Momo," he rumbles into her ear, in a low and sensual purr. "What do you want?"

"Katsuki, please," she whispers. She shifts herself so she can feel their point of contact, feels herself shudder in anticipation.

"I asked you a question, princess." His tongue licks a neat stripe against the column of her neck.

"Please," she whimpers when his hands press her hips against the bed, trapping her under his grasp. "Please, Katsuki-"

"What?"

She closes her eyes, feels the sting of her cheeks reddening. "I… want you," she pleads, raven eyes burning into his. "To go all the way. Please."

That's all it takes. A frayed thread snaps between them. Katsuki swears. In the next moment Momo is gasping, feeling the sweet pressure as he pushes himself in slowly, deeper and deeper until all of him is inside.

They sigh in unison as they connect. Momo reaches over and kisses him on the mouth.

"Fuck, Momo," he growls, catching his breath. She takes a second to relish the feeling of him inside her.

And then he starts to move.

Her thoughts scramble and reorganize all at once. She is suddenly incapable of any coherent thought, other than the pleasure flooding all her senses, the incapacitating desire for more, the breathtaking knowledge that Katsuki's here, so close to her, one with her, breathing the same air, and she's his, all his.

Mine, she thinks, as her arms go around his back and her nails trail hot searing lines all over.

"Mhm, Katsuki," she moans over and over, in various combinations. She isn't usually this vocal during sex, and she's a little worried of the noise she's making. The noise they're making, the wet sounds, the slap of his pelvis against hers, his ragged breathing, the little sounds of pleasure escaping from her throat.

But-fuck all that. She feels the coil tightening inside her, more and more with each rock of his pelvis. Her moans get louder and louder, and when she covers her mouth for some modicum of modesty, Katsuki glares at her.

He pulls her hands off, pins them down above her head. His eyes are on hers, on her mouth, her breasts. His hands are strong, his mouth is eager, nibbling over all the skin he can reach.

It doesn't take long before she unravels underneath him-stars fill her vision, a sweet throbbing ache fills her head and a strangled cry escapes from her throat. He follows her soon after with a groan.

They catch their breaths simultaneously. He pulls out, reaches over to kiss her once more and stroke her hair. She purrs under his touch and looks up at him with a blissful smile.

"Good?"

She hums. "Good."

He smiles at her, uncharacteristically gentle and heartwarming, and leaves her to clean up. He returns in a short while with dry clothes on, tosses hers over her haphazardly, and collapses next to her in a heap.

She stares at him in amazement as his eyes flutter closed, his breathing instantly slowing down, muscles relaxing. In the short moment she pulls on his dark shirt over her and pulls on a pair of his boxers, he's already snoring next to her, practically dead to the world.

Amazing, she thinks, with a fond smile. He's really out like a light. He must have been so exhausted.

She strokes his hair gently, feeling her heart slow down in tandem with his as he breathes peacefully. She covers them both with a blanket, faces him, and closes her eyes.

A peaceful sleep falls over her consciousness rapidly, quiet and content and warm.

The rain continues to fall.


She wakes up from a dreamless sleep when light leaks from the window and gets in her eyes.

She inhales deeply, letting the slightly chilly air fill her lungs and quietly nudge her into wakefulness. When her hand moves up to rub her eyes, she slightly moves an arm resting on top of her, lazily curled around her neck, heavy with sleep.

Seeing Bakugou Katsuki's sleeping face, without an ounce of its usual tension or ill temper, must be a blessing not many gets to experience. His face is smooth and peaceful. Angelic, even, if she remains blissfully ignorant of his normal disposition, and the ways he had with her last night-

She blushes, and corrects herself. No, that's probably her doing. She's the one who made the first move, the one who begged, the one who told her that she thought of him that way since the first cup of coffee. Her cheeks feel warmer for it.

But, she thinks to herself, as she leans in close enough to make the tips of their noses touch, I'm so happy…

That's all she feels, pure and simple. One hand clutches the fabric over her chest-warmth fills it when she remembers whose shirt she's wearing, whose scent it is that she's covered in. She smiles giddily once more.

Ah, but it's sunrise. She turns, and gropes blindly for her phone, which she finds neatly placed on the bedside table. (Who knows how it got there.) The time on the clock reads 5:59 AM, and she has a number of missed messages from Kirishima-san.

Dr Momo did u make it home? Bkg isnt answerin his phone

Lemme know once he goes home pls

She blushes again. She completely forgot about him, and Satou-san too, who specifically asked her to message them.

Sorry for the late reply, she types thoughtfully. Of course she isn't going to tell either of them the details of last night, but she supposes it's sufficient to say, We both made it home safe last night.

The :) she adds, then removes when it feels a little too… evocative.

She presses send, and decides that it must be time for her to go home. The skies are sunny, the streets aren't that damp, and there isn't much traffic yet. It'll be a short walk, with time to shower and dress-up and make it to work by seven.

She carefully peels Katsuki's arm off of her and quietly walks to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She sighs when she sees their mess on the tile.

Momo, you naughty woman, she thinks to herself, biting her lip as she picks up the soggy clothes off the floor. She supposes she owes it to him to clean up. She finds the laundry room soon enough and gets the machines going. She'd have to send him a message then…

She hears someone grumble behind her. "Oh, Katsuki, good morning," she says with a bright smile.

"Hrm," he says eloquently. His hands are on her before she can say anything. "You're up early. Were you gonna leave without saying goodbye?"

She giggles and puts her arms around his neck. "I need to leave for work, and I didn't want to wake you. You seemed so exhausted, Katsuki."

"Whose fuckin' fault is that, huh?" Her point is evidenced by the huskiness in his voice, lowering it down an entire octave. Still, his mouth is on hers in the next moment, and she melts into it quite naturally.

Momo thinks that she can get used to these types of mornings. "I'm sorry," she says, with a bounce that says she isn't sorry at all.

"Right." He tries to smile back, but instead he grimaces. He pauses, blinks a couple of times, and mumbles a few choice expletives to himself.

Momo blinks in worry when he begins to step back, one hand on his head, his face grimacing more and more each second. "Katsuki? Are you okay?"

"Fuck, shit," he hisses, and turns to her, eyes unfocused and pained. "Momo, get the fuck away, get-"

Her veins have never felt as cold as it did then. "Katsuki, what are you-"

That's all she manages to say, before he blacks out and falls to the ground.


AN: I'm sorry if u screm 2 much..

Thank you very much to the wonderful TasiasEndlessDreams for practically co-writing this chapter with me and basically just helping me concretize what I want to happen in this story! ^_^

Ahhh i hope it isn't too awkward and you enjoyed it, despite the cliffhanger at the end. the conflict has to happen some time, after all!

also, since the holidays are coming up and my schedule is gonna be insane i can't guarantee to update this and the other story on time next week! T_T i'll do my best though!

thank you for your continued readership!