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"Finally," she exhales after he lets himself into the apartment. He barely has time to take off his shoes by the door, let alone utter a greeting, before she's there, slipping her hands around his neck and pulling his lips to her own.

He responds by deepening the kiss with a tilt of his head and putting warm, strong hands at her waist. His fingertips tickle her sides as the hem of her shirt rides up and a hum of satisfaction fills the back of her throat.

It certainly took him long enough.

She loves, loves, loves the feel of his silky hair between her fingers, but she slides her hands down his face and onto his body because she's far past the point of taking things slowly and she really just wants to feel more of him right now.

But it's hardly satisfactory when he's wearing that damn jacket, so she makes quick work of the zipper and pushes it off his shoulders. Then, deciding that she might as well make a thorough job of it, she moves her hands down to skim his fantastically toned abdomen and starts to lift his undershirt.

"Wow," he says, a little breathlessly, as they break the kiss long enough for her to then drag his undershirt up over his head and toss it to the floor. Their lips crash back together for a moment before he pulls back again and slips her shirt up and over her head, dropping it to the floor with his. "I ought to keep you waiting more often."

"You wouldn't dare," she murmurs against his lips with a smirk as she gets to work on his pants, taking slow steps backward to try to lead him to her bedroom as her fingers fumble with the clasp. "Stupid thing," she mutters crossly as she fights with it. If he didn't look so attractive in his hero costume (or happen to come straight from patrol), then she would just say to hell with the thing and propose a rule that he show up in something far easier to remove. But, as it were, he does look damn good in it, so she deals.

He chuckles against her lips and one of his hands cups her cheek and pulls her in for another kiss while his other hand moves down, slipping under the waistband of her sweatpants. When one of his fingers just ever so softly (she both hates and loves his talent for teasing her into a complete mess) brushes against her clit over the thin, damp cloth of her panties, her mouth slips off of his in a sharp intake of breath.

Their bodies come to a halt just as they have passed the couch, not quite making it to her doorway yet. But at least there's a wall there - she leans against it for support because her legs always become weak when he touches her like this.

"Fuck, you're drenched," he says with a smirk as he (too slowly) drags her panties aside and dips a finger in to brush directly on her clit. He slips his finger lower, to softly poke at her opening, and then drags it back up to her clit, effectively lubricating it with her juices. "All this…for me?"

She nods fervently as he sets into a rhythm of rubbing at her clit in just the right way.

"So naughty. You've probably been thinking about this all day, haven't you?"

She nods again and grits her teeth in response to the overwhelmingly delicious friction he's creating as he rubs her clit harder, but she can't quite hold back the low moan that's begging to escape her lips.

"I know you like this," he murmurs in her ear, flicking his tongue out to taste her lobe, "So let me hear you."

"Oh!" she cries when he suddenly pushes a finger inside, all thoughts of finishing undoing his pants (which she really wasn't getting anywhere with once he started touching her, anyways) gone as she grips the crook of his elbows to keep herself upright between him and the wall. "Oh, God, Shoto - !"

The rest (assuming she could continue saying actual words) is swallowed by a searing kiss. He can't have been working on her for more than a minute or two and she already feels like she's coming undone, although it isn't a surprise to her how quickly he can get her off. He's always been good with his hands, it seems. So good, in fact, that she almost prefers his fingers to his cock.


"No - no foreplay," she stutters. "Need you - inside - now. Please."

He draws closer, unrelenting in his pacing as he mutters into her ear, "I am inside you, Momo," as if she actually needs reminding of the now two fingers pumping in and out of her needy core.

"You - you know what I mean," she tells him, gasping when he adds a third finger.

"Be patient, Momo," he says as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. "I know you were upset that I'm later than we expected, so I'm gonna make it up to you."

"Not - not upset," she manages, keening when he slows down his fingering to rub his thumb vigorously against her clit. Damn it, she's gotta be close now - "That…would be…against the rules," she finishes between gulps for air. 

"Yeah, but I know how bad you can be," he says huskily before - right as she's on the cusp of orgasm - slipping his hand completely out of her pants. "So I don't expect you to play by the rules all the time."

Momo immediately lets out a frustrated whine, which quickly turns into a pleasurable mewing when he nips at her neck and then lavishes the spot with his tongue before standing upright again.

"Screw you," she mutters, panting as she lazily lifts one hooded lid to look at him. "You could have at least let me finish." Her hips buck forward, seeking any kind of friction that can finish the job.

"We'll get there," Todoroki tells her with a teasing grin before lifting his hand and dragging his tongue across the fingers coated in her essence. Momo shudders as she watches him, her core pulsing to remind her that right around the corner is -

"Ah, ah," he chides seconds later, grabbing her wrist as she's about to slip her hand down her pants to just do it herself. "You know that isn't allowed, either," he says, continuing to clean off his fingers with his tongue.

"That's not a rule," Momo replies, her body spasming forward, desperate as she is for release. He is standing with his body just tantalizingly far enough way from hers that she doesn't connect with anything but air. 

"No, it's not."

He's on his knees now, fingers tucked into the waistband of her sweats, eyes raised and locked on hers. He takes his time sliding down her pants while she's contemplating just tackling him to the floor and riding the hell out of him right there.

But she still needs to get those damn pants off of him first.

"But would you deny me," he continues, "The pleasure of making you come myself? After all this work I put into it?"

His warm breath on her wet pussy is very nearly enough to push her over the edge, and she's feeling practically delirious from the anticipation but still she finds herself wanting to laugh.

"Never. Now, please, Shoto!"

He lets out a low chuckle and says, "Only 'cause you asked nicely."

And then he dives in.