The week had passed in a blur of domestic bliss that felt almost surreal.
The tension that once haunted the hallways of their villa had evaporated, replaced by the quiet sounds of shared mornings and lingering kisses before work.
But for (Y/N), the black leather portfolio in the study was still a ghost in the room. She knew they couldn't just ignore the legal chains her father had wrapped around them.
On Saturday evening, the villa felt truly quiet, not the oppressive silence of a museum, but the peaceful stillness of a sanctuary.
(Y/N) sat on the edge of the sofa, a thick folder in her lap. It was a copy of the contract she had retrieved from her father's office earlier that week.
She had been dreading this talk. She knew they couldn't live in a bubble forever. To be truly free, they had to face the legal chains that bound them to a "five-year window."
"Shoto?" she called out softly as he entered the room, carrying two cups of tea. "We need to talk about the contract. My father... is going to start asking for progress reports soon. He's going to wonder why we haven't checked in. We need a plan to fight him and the Hakamada Estate won't just let us ignore the funding agreements. I've been looking at our options, my savings, and maybe if we-"
Shoto set the tea down on the coffee table with a calm deliberation. He didn't look stressed. In fact, he looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him.
"You don't need to look at the options, (Y/N)," he said, sitting beside her. He reached over and gently closed the folder in her lap. "That paper is worthless now."
(Y/N) blinked, confused. "What do you mean? The funding for your father's projects, the villa, the political backing... if we break this, your family loses everything."
Shoto leaned back, a small, almost predatory smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was a look of pure, unadulterated confidence.
"I didn't just spend the last week doing hero work," Shoto said. "I spent it making sure no one could ever put a price on you again. I've been moving assets for months, but after that night at my mother's, I accelerated everything. Between my agency's earnings and the tech investments I made back in UA, the Todoroki name isn't just a hero legacy anymore. We own the board now."
(Y/N)'s jaw dropped. "Shoto, that... that must have cost a fortune."
He took her hand, his thumb tracing her knuckles. "I've made a series of investments in emerging tech and support-item manufacturing that paid off significantly more than even I anticipated. Some aggressive market maneuvers... let's just say I don't need Hakamada funding. In fact, the Hakamada Estate now owes a significant portion of its debt to a holding company I control."
(Y/N)'s jaw dropped. She knew the Todorokis were wealthy, but the way Shoto was speaking... "Shoto, are you saying...?"
"I'm saying I bought your father out," Shoto said firmly. "I met with him yesterday. I told him that if he ever mentions a 'biological heir' or a 'deadline' to you again, I will liquidate his primary holdings and leave him with nothing but the suit on his back. He signed the dissolution of the Contract and a full release of your personal assets. You are no longer a Hakamada 'asset.' You are just (Y/N). And you are free."
(Y/N) felt the air leave her lungs. The weight she had carried since she was a child, the weight of being a pawn, a vessel, a prize simply evaporated. "He just... signed it?"
"He didn't have a choice," Shoto murmured, his eyes darkening with a protective fire. "I made it very clear that the creditor he was looking for wasn't his business partner, it was the man sitting across from him who was ready to burn his empire to the ground to keep his wife smiling."
(Y/N) let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh, her eyes filling with tears of joy. She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck. "You've been busy."
"I told you," Shoto whispered, holding her so tight she could feel the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart. "I'm not letting anyone cage you again. Not even with ink and paper."
He pulled back, cupping her face and finally kissing her with a deep, lingering sweetness that tasted of a future they finally owned.
"So," he said against her lips, "now that we don't have a deadline, and we don't have a contract... what do you want to do with the rest of our lives?"
Shoto's hands were still cupping her face, his thumbs grazing her cheekbones as he waited for her answer. The air between them was warm, charged with a freedom they had never known before.
(Y/N) looked down at the heavy black folder in her lap, the symbol of every nightmare she'd had for three months.
With a playful, defiant glint in her eyes, she hooked her finger under the edge of the leather and flicked it. The "Contract" slid off her lap, fluttering unceremoniously to the rug like a piece of trash.
"Well," she whispered, leaning in until her breath hitched against his ear. Her voice dropped to a low, velvety purr that made Shoto's entire frame go rigid. "Now that the *production of an heir* isn't a legal requirement... I think I'd like to practice the process. Very, very thoroughly. For the next, say... fifty years?"
Shoto's breath hitched. His eyes darkened, the blue and gray swirling with a sudden, intense heat that had nothing to do with his Quirk. "(Y/N)..."
"And since you've been such a busy, powerful businessman," she continued, her hands sliding down his chest to tug playfully at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer until there wasn't a breath of space left, "I think you deserve a reward. One that involves me, this couch, and absolutely zero clothes."
She bit her lip, looking up at him through her lashes. "Unless the Great Hero Shoto is too tired from all that investing?"
Shoto didn't say a word. He didn't need to. He growled low in his throat a sound of pure, unadulterated want and lunged forward, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was finally, blissfully, desperate.
He moved to pin her back against the cushions, his hands tangling in her hair, his heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird finally set free.
***DING-DONG.***
The doorbell echoed through the silent villa like a physical slap.
Shoto froze, his face buried in the crook of her neck. He let out a long, muffled groan of pure agony against her skin. "Ignore it," he rasped, his voice vibrating against her collarbone. "If it's a villain, the sidekicks will handle it. If the house is on fire, I'll put it out later."
***DING-DONG. DING-DONG. DING-DONG.***
"Someone is very persistent," (Y/N) giggled, breathless and flushed, trying to push him up just an inch so she could breathe.
"I'm going to freeze them," Shoto muttered, finally pulling back, his hair a complete disaster and his shirt rumpled. "I'm going to freeze them in a block of ice and leave them on the curb."
He stood up, looking utterly disheveled and dangerously grumpy, and marched to the front door.
(Y/N) sat up, smoothing her hair and trying to look like a dignified wife instead of a woman who had just been about to have her way with her husband on the living room couch.
Shoto yanked the door open. "This had better be a national emergen-"
"Hey! We brought pizza and Mario Kart!" Natsuo's loud, boisterous voice bounced off the walls as he pushed past a stunned Shoto, followed by Fuyumi who was carrying a stack of boxes. "We figured you two were probably moping around this big house all by yourselves. Let's liven this place up!"
Fuyumi stopped, her eyes darting from Shoto's messy hair to (Y/N)'s flushed face and the discarded contract on the floor. Her eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh no. Natsuo, we should go. Right now."
"What? Why? I'm hungry!" Natsuo shouted from the kitchen.
Shoto stood at the door, his hand still on the knob, looking like he was debating whether or not to actually fulfill his threat of freezing his brother solid.
(Y/N) bit her lip, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling up as she watched Shoto's shoulders trembling with suppressed frustration.
He looked like a volcano moments away from an eruption-not of fire, but of sheer, interrupted longing.
She stood up, smoothing out her t-shirt , and walked over to the doorway. She caught Shoto's eye and gave him a slow, deliberate wink a silent promise that the "practice" she had mentioned was only being delayed, not canceled. Then, she turned her brightest smile toward the kitchen.
"It's okay, Fuyumi! We were just... watching a very intense movie," (Y/N) lied effortlessly, though the blush on her cheeks told a different story. "Pizza sounds amazing. We haven't actually eaten yet."
"See? I told you!" Natsuo shouted, already popping open a box of pepperoni pizza and sliding a piece into his mouth. "They're practically starving in this mansion. Hey, Shoto, quit standing there like a gargoyle and get the controllers! I'm going to wipe the floor with you in Rainbow Road."
Shoto let out a long, suffering sigh, closing the front door with a click. He walked over to (Y/N), leaning down to whisper in her ear so only she could hear. "I'm charging Natsuo rent for every minute he stays here tonight. And I'm doubling it for every minute I'm not kissing you."
(Y/N) giggled, patting his chest. "Be a good host, Shoto. It's the first time they've visited us as a real family. Let's enjoy it."
^ • ^
The next three hours were a chaotic, loud, and beautiful disaster. The pristine living room was quickly covered in pizza crumbs and napkins.
Natsuo and Shoto were hunched over the coffee table, their faces lit by the glow of the TV, screaming at each other as their characters drifted around corners.
"YOU CHEATED! YOU USED AN ICE QUIRK ON THE CONTROLLER!" Natsuo yelled as his character flew off the track.
"I didn't use my Quirk, you're just bad at the game," Shoto replied, his voice deadpan, though there was a competitive glint in his eye that (Y/N) loved to see.
Fuyumi sat on the sofa next to (Y/N), sipping a soda and watching her brothers with a misty-eyed smile. "I never thought I'd see them like this," she whispered. "In a home that doesn't feel like it's about to explode. Thank you, (Y/N). Really."
(Y/N) Smiled brightly. "Thank you for bringing the pizza. I think Shoto needed to be reminded that he's allowed to just be a brother sometimes."
^ • ^
Around midnight, the pizza boxes were empty and Natsuo was yawning, finally exhausted from his own energy. Fuyumi began gathering their things, sensing that they had stayed just long enough.
"We should get going," Fuyumi said, nudging a sleepy Natsuo. "Shoto has a patrol in the morning, and I'm sure they want their living room back."
As Shoto walked them to the door, (Y/N) stayed back by the sofa. She caught Shoto's gaze as he turned to say a final goodbye to Natsuo.
She slowly reached down, picked up the discarded black folder from the rug, opening it, tearing the papers from it, she tossed them into the fireplace.
As the flames licked the edges of the contract, she looked at Shoto and ran a slow, suggestive hand down her throat, her eyes darkening with the same heat they'd shared before the doorbell rang.
Shoto's words died in his throat. He practically pushed Natsuo out the door.
"Okay, bye! Drive safe! See you later!" *SLAM.*
The sound of the deadbolt clicking shut echoed through the house. Shoto didn't even wait for them to pull out of the driveway.
He turned around, his eyes locked on (Y/N) as she stood by the fire, the light of the burning contract dancing in her eyes.
"Finally," he rasped, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register. "Where were we?"
(Y/N) didn't answer with words. She simply held out her hand, and Shoto moved across the room like a man possessed, finally claiming the "reward" he had worked so hard to earn.