Happy Birthday, Shoto
Talk of Ren Ishikawa's twentieth birthday party dominated Musutafu City that evening. If you weren't there, you were following live coverage of who was. Social media buzzed with photos of pro heroes mingling with movie stars, politicians laughing with business tycoons, all gathered at the Ishikawa estate to celebrate the media heiress. The girl known for criticising the divide between heroes and civilians, between the quirked and the quirkless, between the privileged and the marginalised, hosted what reporters called "the most lavish celebration Japan has seen this decade."
The words Ren wrote spoke to those who could not find their place in hero society, the quirkless, the ignored, those whose quirks seemed villainous, those who despised heroes, who vowed to never be them. So to watch someone who had become a symbol of revolution, of complete societal reformation, dance and smile and shake hands with the rule-makers, the civilian-savers, out of touch celebrities and politicians…it felt like a betrayal. The hypocrisy did not go unnoticed by those who felt sidelined by society. Everything they thought she stood for, shattered in one evening of celebration.
But there was one man who knew how deep the hypocrisy truly ran. Against a concrete pillar in Musutafu Central Station, the villain Dabi stood, scrolling through news articles on his phone. The stark fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across the patches of purple-black scarred skin that marked his body, the metal staples that held him together catching the light. Around him, the late-night crowd hurried past - office workers heading home after overtime, young people dressed for clubs, families returning from dinner. None spared him a second glance. In a society of quirks and mutations, his appearance barely registered as unusual.
As the air filled with the metallic scent of the train tracks, the artificial warmth of the heating system, the lingering aroma of convenience store bentos and coffee from the station vendors, Dabi's dark coat swayed in the breeze and licked the floor. He scrolled through the coverage of Ren's birthday party, pausing as a photo of the birthday girl appeared on his screen -in a flowing lilac gown that made her look ethereal, diamonds glittering in her dark hair like bottled stars. Her grey eyes sparkled as she laughed at something off-camera, her entire being radiating the kind of effortless grace that only came from a lifetime of privilege. But there was something else there too, something that made Dabi's scarred fingers pause on the screen. A hint of defiance in her smile, a spark of rebellion in her eyes that spoke of someone who understood what it meant to want to burn it all down.
They were so similar, didn't she get that? Couldn't she see what was so painfully obvious to him? He remembered the way she had trembled when he grabbed her throat, the way her skin had reacted so violently to his quirk. Most people just got burned, but she... she had practically convulsed under his touch, as if her entire body was attuned to his power. The memory sent a thrill through him, blue flames flickering between his fingers before he could stop them. What would it be like to make her react like that again? To watch that perfectly composed exterior crack and shatter? To release her from the false life she was pretending to live?
The station hummed with the constant movement of people and trains, announcements echoing off the tiled walls and high ceilings as Dabi smiled to himself, the expression pulling at his scars. He must be one of the only people in the city who knew what a real hypocrite she was - writing articles demanding revolution, calling for the reformation of a society built on division and inequality thanks to quirks and heroes... all while secretly fucking Shoto Todoroki. The golden boy of U.A., Endeavour's perfect creation, everything wrong with hero society wrapped up in one privileged package.
The image of Shoto entered Dabi's brain, causing his Dabi's fingers twitch, blue flames threatening to spark between them. The perfect hero-in-training, praised and pampered, given everything while others burned. Even Ren was a trophy the Todoroki's youngest child had been gifted, and for what? That child stood for everything the wrong with the world, everything Ren hated, couldn't she see that? The world would benefit, Ren could be free, if Shoto was out of the picture. Taking her away from him would destroy Shoto completely. The idea of watching that carefully controlled facade crumble as Dabi took away something precious to him... it was almost too delicious to contemplate. And then, real truth could finally have its day. Ren's words would come true, hero society would fall, the Todoroki's left more broken than ever before.
Someone bumped into him, jolting Dabi from his thoughts. He looked up, ready to unleash his quirk, ready to watch another privileged citizen of hero society learn what real pain felt like. But the retort died in his throat. There, on the opposite platform, a figure in a dark hoodie was making her way through the crowd. Even with her head down, trying to avoid attention, Dabi would recognise her anywhere. His quirk practically hummed in recognition, drawn to the lingering mark it had left on her throat. What was Ren Ishikawa doing at a train station when she was supposed to be at her own birthday party? And with a backpack slung over her shoulder, dressed like a normal college student instead of the princess of Musutafu's media empire?
The screech of an approaching train filled the station, the sound reverberating off the tiled walls. The wind of its passing stirred papers and lifted the edges of coats as it rushed through the station. That same gust caught another hooded figure who had been following several feet behind Ren. The hood fell back for just a moment, revealing a flash of red and white hair before its owner quickly pulled it back up. But that glimpse was enough. Dabi's breath caught in his throat, a manic grin spreading across his face as realisation dawned.
They were here, together…running away? Could fate give him a better sign? Could the stars align any clearer to guide him towards what was clearly destiny? And who was he, to deny it?
Dabi abandoned his own travel plans without hesitation, following them at a distance as they made their way to Platform 7. His footsteps echoed on the polished floor as he wove through the late-night crowd, keeping them in sight while staying far enough back to avoid detection. The station's late-night scheduling board showed only one train departing from this platform - an express service ending in Hakurei, a small town in the countryside, the kind of place young lovers might escape to for a romantic weekend.
Finding a shadowed spot behind a pillar, Dabi watched in fascination as Ren and Shoto maintained their careful distance. To anyone else, they would appear to be strangers - Ren sitting on a bench, apparently absorbed in her phone, while Shoto stood near a vending machine, his back to her. But Dabi caught the little tells - the way Shoto's head turned slightly whenever someone passed too close to Ren, the quick glances she shot in his direction when she thought no one was looking. The air between them practically crackled with something electric.
Their movements were so practiced, so precise - it spoke of months of hiding, of carefully maintaining this facade. How long had they been sneaking around? How many times had they performed this elaborate charade? And how delicious would it be, to shatter it all to pieces?
When their train arrived, its silver sides gleaming under the fluorescent lights, Dabi pulled out his phone, hoping they might slip up - sit together, exchange a look, give him something he could capture and sell to the papers. Expose them, leave them both to the wrath of their fathers. But they boarded separately, Shoto taking position at one end of the carriage while Ren found a seat at the other. Their performance was flawless, practiced. It only made Dabi more determined to shatter it.
He lowered his phone, watching as the train pulled away from the platform, its lights receding into the darkness of the tunnel. There was no need to rush, no need to follow them north. He knew where they were going, knew they would return in time for school to start again. Better to wait, to plan, to savour the anticipation of destroying something so carefully hidden.
Dabi turned away from the platform, humming tunelessly to himself as he headed for the station exit. The scars around his mouth stretched as his smile widened. When they returned relaxed and happy from their romantic getaway, thinking themselves safe... that's when he would start making their lives difficult. And then, perhaps, when everything came crashing down around them, he'd get to see that look in Ren's eyes again - that moment when his quirk had made her entire world dissolve into chaos.
The ding alerting passengers of the train doors closing alerted Shoto to look over to Ren where she was sat on the other end of the carriage. She touched her throat absentmindedly, her fingers tracing the barely visible burn that still lingered there. The gesture was unconscious, a response to some phantom pain or memory that made his chest tighten with the guilt that remained with him since that day. Under the harsh fluorescent lights of the platform, surrounded by late-night travellers, he couldn't go to her, couldn't ask if she was alright. They had to maintain their careful distance, even as every instinct urged him to close the gap between them. With one hand wrapped around a support pole, Shoto barely moved as the train pulled away from the station, the gentle sway of motion settling over the passengers.
Shooting an appreciative glance at Shoto's side profile front he other side of the carriage, Ren pulled her hood higher on her head and pulled out her phone. In the reflection on the window behind her, Shoto could see, from the corner of his eye, that she navigated to a website he recognised. News from the Underground - the uncensored, anonymous news platform that had gained notoriety for publishing content too controversial for mainstream media. The site's black background and stark white text gave it an illicit feel, like something that existed in the shadows of legitimate journalism.
Ren began to read the Stain article that she had only managed to skim that morning. As she scrolled, Shoto could see her expression change, her grey eyes widening slightly as she read, then her brow furrowing with concern. His chest constricted a little as he watched her covertly- she didn't need to worry about any of that now; did she still feel affected by their argument that morning? Guilt nestled itself in Shoto's stomach as he looked away, noticing a group of girls watching him as though trying to figure out where they knew him from.
The sounds of the city outside whipped past them as the train picked up speed, running through the city as though as eager to leave it all behind as Shoto was. Could Ren not do that? Had he upset her so much that she felt the need to pour over the article again? He rubbed the back of his neck as his backpack dug into his shoulders uncomfortably as though it carried the weight of his guilt; Shoto had always been a little mean to Ren. Since they were children, he disregarded her, told her to go home, told her to be quiet, to play the game properly, that she would never understand him because she was quirkless. He had pulled her hair and called her names…Shoto's cheeks turned a little pink as he realised he still did that.
But through it all Ren had remained, there, beyond the fence, always, loving him, even when he didn't deserve it. And now, he thought as he stole another glance at her, she had been burned, cried over him, protected him, fought for him…and he was still a little mean to the girl he loved. Is that all he knew? Was that all he was? A pathetic, smaller shadow of his father? The thought made him feel sick. He had always had this streak of anger inside of him, something a little darker than he cared to admit, and Ren seemed to always be victim to it. His hand tightened around the pole as he moved aside, letting passengers exit the train as he made a firm promise to himself to learn to be better for her.
Moving up a little as someone sat beside her, Ren frowned down at her phone. The article about Stain's manifesto was prominently displayed, its analysis of hero society's failures written in a style that was uncomfortably familiar. Shoto had been right- it absolutely read like Ren could have written it. Of course it was more sensationalised, lacking the nuance or policy-centric motifs that Ren was known for…but something felt oddly familiar. Her fingers tightened on her phone, her eyes widened as she recognised a particular passage - words she was sure she had written in draft articles sent to Kaito months ago, now twisted and repurposed to support a villain's ideology.
Her heart begin to thump in her chest as she opened her email app to check if she was right, but before she could search through her sent folder, movement caught her attention. Shoto had noticed an elderly couple rising from the seats beside her. Without thinking, he moved to take the vacated spot, able to be closer to her as the train emptied as it moved further out of the centre of the city.
Ren tried not to smile, to let anything slip in her carefully crafted facade as Shoto's left side pressed against her in the narrow space. She tried to concentrate on anything but Shoto, shuddering a little as the carriage doors opened to let the passengers off. A gust of cold wind entered the carraige, the winter night was seeping through the windows. Slowly, deliberately, Shoto activated his left side, letting warmth emanate from him like a personal heater. Ren smiled to herself and looked over at him as discreetly as she dared. She saw him glancing at her phone, clearly aware she had been looking at the stain article. Understanding dawned on her and she smiled, biting her lip as she tried to stop herself grinning; he was warming her up as an apology, an acknowledgment of his mistake in doubting her that morning, offered in the only way he could in this public space.
Looking back down to her phone she texted him a single word to acknowledge his apology without giving in: "Slave." The familiar exchange, their private ritual of forgiveness, made something in Shoto's chest loosen as he saw the word on her phone.
"Did you see the photos from Ren Ishikawa's party?" a voice carried from further down the carriage, making Ren and Shoto jump. A group of college students were huddled around a phone, swiping through social media coverage of the event the birthday girl had just fled.
"She looked gorgeous in that dress," one girl sighed.
"Bet she wouldn't look bad out of it either," a male voice replied, followed by crude laughter.
Without warning, Shoto's temperature plummeted, his right side threatening to frost over the window beside them. But Ren's hand found his knee under the cover of her bag, squeezing gently.Don't, the touch said.It's not worth giving us away.
Being a Todoroki, the son of the number two hero, the prodigy hero-in-training, Shoto was growing accustomed to a public profile. But he had never heard people speak about anyone, the way they spoke about Ren. No topic about her was out of bounds to the public, he realised, as more gossip filtered through the carriage - speculation about Ren's love life, jokes about her politics, discussions of her wealth and status. They talked about her weight, her hair colour, the fact that her education was completely paid for, that she's never had to work a day in her life, that she was probably sleeping with the Nakamura heir. Each comment seemed designed to remind them of the world they were trying to escape, if only for a weekend.
He watched Ren's body language completely change; where she ad opened up immediately upon him sitting next to her, she suddenly closed up. Her shoulders scrunched up as though trying to protect herself against a cold wind, her lips became tight and her eyes lost their usual dazzle. He had never thought about what it must feel like to be in the public eye constantly, scrutinised constantly and he felt a sense of pride that Ren never chose to run away, hide from what they said about her. She faced it, always, especially through her work, she never let anyone's criticism over her background and privilege make her cower and concede.
Shoto was beginning to understand her a lot better with each passing day, with each obstacle they faced she reassured him that she was capable and independent, if a little stubborn. But how could he ever be annoyed by her heard headedness when it's that trait that pushed them back together again? The train began to roll through the station again, a gentle chime sounded through the carriage, Hakurei was announced at the end of the line. The view outside of the window began to show suburban settings as they moved farther away from the city.
The view outside the window, more space, more green than before, plus more passengers disembarking, made the distance between their lives in the city and the future of just the two of them seem more real. Could they really just leave it all behind? Shoto watched as Ren took a deep breath, her pretty face turning a little pink as the weather outside turned colder.
As Ren scrolled through her phone, the gentle sway of movement beneath her feet barely registering anymore. The article about the Stain manifesto sat open in one tab, but she found herself drawn to another headline: "Ren Ishikawa at 20: A Look Back at the Media Princess's First Birthday." Did she really want to read it? She knew what was waiting for her if she looked at it.
Her thumb hovered over the link fr another moment before clicking. The first image made her breath catch - she was looking at herself in a dress she'd never worn before…? No, that wasn't her in the image, well it was, she was the baby in the woman's arms. Barely a year old, dressed, for some bizarre reason, in a tiny ladybug costume complete with spotted wings and antennae. The woman she had mistaken herself for was her mother, Rose, holding her daughterclose, radiant in a cream silk dress, looking everything like the movie star she was. Ren wondered if she looked like her mother, was she that beautiful? Rose's mixed heritage stood out in all the photographs - the same striking features that Ren had inherited. Akira stood beside them, younger and softer somehow, his silver hair yet untouched by grey, beaming with genuine joy at his wife and daughter.
Ren smiled despite herself, unaware that Shoto had glanced down, catching the expression on her face, before looking at herself phone. He watched as her eyes traced her mother's features, noting how similar they looked - the same stormy grey eyes, the same dark waves of hair, the same luminous quality to their skin that made Ren look like a starry night sky.
The article compared then and now, showing side-by-side images of the party guests from both celebrations. Amazing how immediate social media was- the party was most likely still going on! Midnight, impossibly young and vibrant, stood beside All Might in his prime. Present Mic's signature hair was shorter, Mt. Lady barely more than a trainee. Ren's thumb moved unconsciously to stroke the image of her mother as she scrolled, a gesture so vulnerable that Shoto wanted to reach out and stroke her face.
Ren gasped.
In the background of a photo showing All Might raising a champagne glass, partially obscured by the party crowd but unmistakable - two women knelt on the perfectly manicured lawn of the Ishikawa estate. Rei's white hair caught the sunlight as she smiled, holding a one-year-old Shoto whose red and white hair was barely more than wisps. Beside her, Rose laughed as she tried to contain a squirming Ren who was determinedly trying to reach the unfazed baby boy beside her. While baby Ren's face was alight with interest, practically dramatic with need and want, baby Shoto stared at her with complete indifference, apparently unmoved by her attempts to grab him.
The feeling that welled up in Ren's chest, in her throat, behind her eyes, was overwhelming and unidentifiable. There was something so bittersweet about the image, so heartbreaking and poignant. She tilted her head unconsciously as she studied the image, trying to reconcile these happy, laughing women with their fates - one dead, one institutionalised, both taken from their children far too soon. In her peripheral vision, she saw Shoto tilt his head to match her angle, deliberately bumping against her head. When she looked up at him, his expression was soft, understanding. He had seen the photo too.
For a moment, they just looked at each other, processing this glimpse into their shared past. Here was proof that their paths had been intertwined from the very beginning - two children born into privilege and pain, destined to find their way back to each other. The weight of everything unsaid hung between them - about mothers lost and found, about the cycles of fate that had brought them here, about how that determined baby girl had finally won over that unimpressed baby boy.
Suddenly remembering where they were, Ren jerked her head up, glancing around the carriage frantically. But the last few passengers had disembarked at the previous station, leaving them alone in the quiet car. Through the windows, the city lights had completely given way to darkness, the occasional glimmer of distant houses the only indication of civilisation.
Relief washed over her as she realised they were truly alone. The tension of maintaining their public facade melted away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. Without thinking, Ren leaned her head against Shoto's shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him. His left side warmed slightly, just enough to chase away the chill of the air-conditioned carriage. Shoto leant down and kissed her head softly.
Ren's eyes grew heavy as the rhythmic motion of the train and the solid presence of Shoto beside her lulled her towards sleep. The phone slipped in her grasp, the image of their younger selves fading to black as the screen dimmed. The last thing she registered before drifting off was the gentle pressure of Shoto's hand finding hers in the darkness, their fingers intertwining as naturally as they had been meant to do so all along.
The small mountain town of Hakurei was nestled between snow-capped peaks, its streets lined with a charming blend of traditional Japanese inns and European-style chalets. It was as though a quaint German Christmas market was trying to make a home in the beauty of the Japanese countryside. Paper lanterns were strung up between buildings, the smell of winter food filled the air as this small town went untouched by the world around it. It was a perfect haven, away from their lives in the city, for Ren and Shoto to truly be alone.
Fresh snow fell steadily, coating everything in pristine white as the pair entered their room at the inn. The space took Ren's breath away - high wooden beams crossed the ceiling, a crackling fireplace cast dancing shadows across plush furnishings, and floor-to-ceiling arched windows offered a stunning view of the mountains beyond. The bed looked inviting, a dramatic canopy of hanging curtains above it, but the view outside the window was what really captured her attention. Moonlight filtered through the falling snow, creating an ethereal glow that made everything seem magical.
Dropping her bag by the door, Ren removed her winter coat and moved to the windows, mesmerised by the scene before her. Individual snowflakes caught the light as they fell, turning to diamonds in the night air. "It's beautiful," she breathed, her voice filled with wonder, the moonlight illuminating her skin, making her eyes sparkle as she looked up at the starry sky.
She felt Shoto's presence her before his touch, the familiar duality of his temperatures sending a shiver down her spine as he stood directly behind her. Completely unfazed by the beautiful sight outside the window, he swept her dark hair to one side, exposing her neck to his lips. What was the need to stare out of the window when he could touch the night sky with his hands, make her beg for him, hurt for him, do anything he said? And she would. This direct, bolder, more in control Shoto that had emerged this evening was everything Ren had ever wanted from him. She let him sink his teeth into her neck and run his warm left hand up her sweater.
Tonight felt so different. Every time felt different as they got to know each other, to fall more in love, understood how to make one another shudder in pure physical the vulnerability both experienced in the train journey, physically moving further way from the city, their responsibilities, their carefully maintained facades- allowed them to feel truly alone and truly themselves. They had waited so many months for this.
Turning suddenly in his arms, Ren placed her hands on either side of his face, studying the features she'd grown to love so deeply. The way his red and white hair fell into his eyes, the way his breathing deepened as his want of her began to take over. His mismatched eyes met hers with equal intensity and suddenly the intoxicating mix of love and lust drifted up in the air between them. Ren closed any distance between them, pressing her lips into his desperately, both groaning in utter irritation and impatience when they had to pull away to shed their clothes.
They fell onto the bed as Ren pulled Shoto on top of her. Finally, the feeling of his skin on hers, his aching dick falling heavy on her thigh, the hot and cold, their quirks practically reaching out for one another in their bloodstreams,finally. Ren stopped and pushed him away with a hand.
"Ren," he warned her dangerously, earning a small smile from her; he had never said her name like that, like he would reprimand her if she did not give in to him. But the vulnerability that lay in the dark pools of her grey eyes made him stop. She lifted her hands and placed them on either side of his face.
"Can we?" she whispered, her thumbs stroking his cheeks, watching him close his eyes and swallow as her touch threatened to strike a match and light up his quirk. "Just tonight," she reassured him, "I want all of you." Understanding dawned in Shoto's eyes - she wanted him to let go completely, to stop holding back his quirk, to give in to whatever happened between them when they touched. Was it dangerous? Would it hurt her? Why was it so difficult to hold back when it came to fucking her? Why did he want it too?
He nodded once before Ren grinned and pushed him off of her, before pulling him to sit next to her. With a delighted smile she threw a leg over him, straddling him at the edge of the bed, before taking his hands and putting one on her throat and one over her heart. As their lips met, their bodies jumped in unison, bumping into one another, brushing against one another as the familiar feedback loop initiated, intensifying as neither tried to retain control. The world beyond them faded away entirely, they were lost in the ice and fire, the way it amplified between them, set them both aflame, twinkled with frost and snowflakes. The fire crackled, snow continued to fall outside as they let their hands touch each other, following the quirks, the most intimate parts of each other.
"Tell me you love me," Ren whispered as Shoto kissed her neck, his cold hand following the curve of her hip, around the soft skin of her rear, before he dipped his fingers inside of her, making her jump.
"I love you," he said, holding her fingers still inside of her, soaking himself on her wetness, watching as Ren tilted her head back, and began moaning on top of him, moving her hips gently to give herself a little relief from the want.
"Tell me I'm yours," she gasped, biting her lip, grinding down on him, clawing at his back.
"Do I need to? Look at you." Ren's movements immediately ceased; had she heard him correctly? A glittering trail of frost was forming along her right thigh, up her back, as she brought her head back to face him. Her look of polite disbeliefmet his unreadable face; had he meant to say something that set her brain on fire?
"What?" She asked slowly, but Shoto barely let her think about it.
"I'm not even trying," he said, taking his little finger between her legs and barely stroking her.
"Mmm," Ren shuddered before freezing as his finger shot snowflakes into her most sensitive spot, her hands grabbed onto Shoto's broad shoulders as if she had to brace herself for what he was doing to her. He watched her face closely, the way her eyes went wide with disbelief, her mouth fell open as the gasp of pleasure escaped her. She stared down at him, her pink lips full, a curious, almost suspicious look on her face. Was he just being blunt as usual? Saying what was obvious to him? Why was she glad that it was so obvious to him? "Say more things," she challenged him as though testing a hypothesis.
"This is the only time you're ever well behaved," he said matter-of-factly, his grey and turquoise eyes watching her intensely. "It's the only time you ever listen. Because of me," he had no idea why Ren was smiling. "Because of what only I can do to you." There was a note of arrogance, of vanity in his voice that Ren had never heard before. She'd be damned if he was right.
"No it's not," she retaliated but Shoto practically rolled his eyes at her.
"Open your mouth," he said softly. Without consciously registering what she was doing, Ren felt her mouth fall open gently, ever so slightly, against her will. Her entire body froze as though he had used his left side on her, as Shoto moved up to dip the tip of his tongue into her mouth. "Would you like me to try, Ren?" He murmured against her lips. In the firelight, her entire body catching fire and freezing up at the same time, Ren nodded her head, her dark hair falling from her shoulders as she watched in fascination as Shoto moved her, completely in control of her. "On the floor," he whispered as Ren slipped off his lap, eager to see what he had in store for her.
The fire crackled, the only source of light in the room, as Ren lay back on the soft rug on the floor. Her skin was glowing as she lay naked, waiting for him, her fingers already in her mouth as her eyes became heavy lidded with lust. She brought her knees up as though to hide herself from him, smiling at him daringly to make good on his unspoken promise to fuck her like he owned her.
Shoto got onto his knees in front of her, a small smirk tugging on the corner of his lips; all those people who thought they knew her, saw her on magazine covers and TV screens, they never got to see this. Ren only looked at him like that, only begged him with her eyes, welcomed him to all of her whenever he needed her. She opened her knees for him as he moved over her but, to her surprise, Shoto pushed her legs away and turned her over, flat on her stomach.
"Ah!" She couldn't help the small sounds that escaped her mouth as the boy next door grabbed her butt, squeezing a little harder than he had ever before, before bending down and licking her, kissing her. Ren began to peel away from the floor, angling her rear up to him,silently pleading for more. He moved back and rubbed his dick against her curves, torturing her a little by making her wait.
"Ugh," Shoto shuddered as he pushed his dick inside of her.
"Ah!" Ren felt her abs tense up as she took all of him in one fluid motion after so long of waiting for him all night. Frost crept along the windows that had nothing to do with the cold outside as Shoto's quirk went into overdrive. He fucked her harder without her asking because for once Ren was completely speechless; each thrust felt designed to push her further and further Into ecstasy, to that place only Shoto could ever take her to.
As her hips moved up off the floor she squealed in surprise and delight as Shoto's hand found its way between her legs, working her gently, then frantically, matching the devastating pace his hips set. His other hand reached around to grab her breasts but he couldn't decide what part of her to touch. He wanted to grab the soft flesh of her breasts but equally if his fingers brushed her throat Ren moaned in delight as he unknowingly activated her quirk, or if he dipped his icy fingers into her mouth she sucked on them gratefully, greedily.
The sex became more frantic, more desperate, Ren's uncontrollable noises became louder as she felt that his real quirk might be fucking her this good. Shoto felt as though he didn't have enough hands to own her properly; he wanted to pull her hair, grab onto her, touch her, tease her as he sunk his teeth into her neck. Was this love? Was this what love did to sex? Made it feel like they had some utterly inescapable connection, like they couldn't survive without this, without each other?
"Yes, yes, yes," Ren gasped before her hips buckled and she came all over his dick. Her entire body caught fire as she called out his name and shuddered as each wave of her orgasm rippled through her form.
After a moment, she pushed back on him, causing Shoto back onto his knees and forcing him to watch her, breathing heavy, turn around and pull him onto her. "Use me," she whispered urgently, pulling him back into her, his dick slipping in with no resistance.
The interaction of their quirks sent something like sparks off their bodies and into the nighttime. Shoto closed his eyes, placed his forehead against Ren's, his red and white hair falling into her eyes, as he allowed pleasure to take over his brain, guide his body to make use of her. They were both too taken over by sensation, barely able to speak, just do what it felt like they were designed to do to one another. Ren opened her eyes and watched as Shoto's face screwed up in complete bliss as he took what he needed from her.
She felt his hips began to shudder and his dick get a little harder as she encouraged him with filthy words and the touch of her tongue on his neck, to come inside of her.
"Ah!" Shoto gasped and grunted before she felt his dick swell a little and his body tense as his orgasm took over. With a few more strokes Shoto let out a breath of deep satisfaction before opening her eyes to see Ren not looking at him but something in the corner of the room. He followed her gaze to see a tall grandfather clock showing the time was past midnight.
"Hey," Ren said breathlessly, turning back to smile at him, "happy birthday," she laughed as Shoto kissed the tip of her nose.
Shoto? Buddy? Let's not hold back anymore, 'kay?
Hahaha.
I hope you liked it, reader!
please review!