Contrary to popular belief, the first time Tamaki met Mirio wasn’t in third grade.
No, according to his mother, the first time they met, Tamaki was two months old, and in the hospital for unforeseen complications that doctors should have caught when he was born but didn’t, and Mirio was a premature baby, having spent only seven months in his mother’s body instead of nine.
Since they were both placed in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, their cribs happened to be next to each other’s, so when Mirio started crying, Tamaki cried from reflex, even louder than Mirio did, hitting the mattress with his tiny hands to get to him.
Eventually, the doctors decided to put them in the same crib —a common practice to avoid accidentally isolating babies completely, seeing as that could cause issues to arise later in psychological development— and that proved to be the wisest course of action, as they slept and breathed and functioned soundly for the next days. In fact, as Tamaki’s mother had told him, the day before he left, he was softly holding Mirio’s tiny index in his curled fist.
His first friend had been Mirio, too.
Tamaki was just a kid that had transferred in a new school, and tripped over his own words. He was too boring for the other kids to like him, yet Mirio had come up to him afterwards. Despite Tamaki shying away from everyone and everything, Mirio still struck up a conversation, eager to learn more about him, though Tamaki couldn’t possibly see the reason why.
Soon after that fateful first meeting, Mirio became a constant in his life, always pulling him forward with him, but never too forcefully. Tamaki saw other kids having so many friends, but he never felt weird or jealous. Just Mirio was more than enough for him.
Tamaki can remember the exact moment when he realized that Mirio was his first love.
They are fifteen and walking home with Nejire, who is, as usual, asking rapid-fire questions, though this time they border on quite personal territory.
Tamaki doesn’t mind that much, though. He’s gotten used to her curiosity —even if it still startles him— and feels comfortable around her, thanks to Mirio.
“So Mirio, there’s no one you’re in love with at the moment?” She asks, going off on his previous answer.
Mirio just shrugs, smiling. “I mean, I’ve had a crush or two before, but in love? Not right now,” he says.
“I see.” She pinches Tamaki’s cheek. “How about you, Amajiki?”
He frowns, feeling his cheeks heat up.
He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love.
That’s weird, isn’t it?
“I…” He hesitates, but both Mirio and Nejire humor him.
“C’mon Tamaki, don’t be shy!”
“We’re not gonna tell anyone!”
“I don’t think...I’ve—I’ve ever been in—in love,” he admits. His heart speeds up at their surprised faces, his throat closing up. “I—I know—”
The words aren’t coming out, but Mirio picks up on his thoughts immediately and rushes to reassure him.
“No, no, Tamaki, that’s fine! Don’t worry about it, it’s not weird,” he says, shaking his head. Tamaki feels himself calm down minutely, but he can’t help voice the question that’s been turning around in his head ever since Nejire brought the issue up.
“What—What does it—feel…” He stutters, still not having yet recovered.
“What does being in love feel like?” Mirio asks, while Nejire rubs soothingly Tamaki’s arm.
“Sorry if I made you upset, Amajiki,” she whispers. Tamaki shakes his head.
“I think it might be different for everyone,” Mirio muses, considering Tamaki’s stammered-out question, “but generally I’d say being in love feels like the first warm day after a terrible winter, except much longer. That person has an ability to make you feel like you’re flying and also ground you at the same moment. They make you feel safe, and when you’re near them, every problem fades in the background, because you’re brave when you’re with them.”
“Oh,” Tamaki says, his mind struggling to catch up with the facts.
Mirio shrugs. “But maybe it’ll feel different for you when you fall in love. Or maybe you won’t fall in love in this lifetime, and that’s fine too!” He smiles blindingly, and his resemblance to the sun solidifies Tamaki’s conclusion.
He’s in love with Mirio.
When Nejire asks him why the weird face, he manages to lie through his teeth, saying he has a stomachache and that he probably ate too much today.
Their first kiss is a year later on a cold December night, just a few days before Christmas. The sky is strikingly clear tonight, allowing a multitude of stars and the full moon to be visible, and for once, the city is rather quiet, no criminal activities in sight.
They’re sitting on the rooftop of U.A.’s dorms, and passing a bottle of sake to each other. Normally, neither of them would be so irresponsible as to drink alcohol while underage and on school grounds, but it’s winter break, and they both desire a much-needed stress reliever. They want to be heroes more than anything, but damn, U.A.’s kicking their asses, even if they’ve both bridled their Quirks; Mirio doesn’t phase through walls or floors by accident anymore, and Tamaki can manifest anything he eats with just a mere thought.
Still, being the center of attention hasn’t helped his anxieties at all, and he’s been juggling his fondness for Mirio as well, which is something that doesn’t seem to be going away.
No, if anything, it’s more potent, yet Tamaki can’t say it’s something that distresses him.
Well, most of the time anyways.
Times like now, where Mirio is all starry-eyed and light-headed, and passing him the bottle while giggling at nothing in particular, yeah, Tamaki finds himself being quite distressed, his heart melting, as if he’s eaten wax and it’s manifesting inside his chest.
He smiles back, focusing again on their conversation —or rather, Mirio’s strong feelings about Nejire having a crush on No. 9 Hero Ryuukyuu.
“Remember two weeks ago when Ryuukyuu came to talk to us about being a Pro Hero? Aizawa had to stop Nejire from asking too many questions.” Mirio puts his palms behind him and leans back. “I’m telling you, she has a crush on her.”
Tamaki chuckles too. “To be fair, he’s had to do that another two or three times.”
Mirio laughs again.
Tamaki takes a long gulp, and feels the alcohol burn down his throat. It warms him to the bone, along with the blanket spread on his and Mirio’s lap. His lips taste sweet, and he can’t help but wish it were Mirio causing it, and not the drink.
“You know, Tamaki.” Mirio hiccups, then looks to the sky.
Despite the alcohol that’s coursing through his veins and making him feel like he hasn’t the slightest care in the world, he can’t help the obligatory blush that comes whenever Mirio compliments him.
“I’m not...not really,” he mumbles, putting down the bottle.
“You are, though!”
“You’re the one that’s gonna become No. 1 hero, though,” Tamaki smiles, stroking the back of Mirio’s palm in a moment of absent-mindedness.
He freezes when he realizes what he did, the cold air biting the exposed skin of his own hands. He goes to pull away, but Mirio grabs his hand back, looking at him with an expression that has don’t written all over it. His eyes shine underneath the starry sky before he closes them, leaning forward, and Tamaki can see what’s gonna happen, can feel his brain clogging up with worries, yet he manages for once to fly above them, so he closes his eyes too.
It’s not perfect. Quite the opposite, it’s a bit clumsy, a bit unfocused, a bit unrefined, the alcohol and inexperience making them stumble before they can walk. Still, Mirio’s lips are soft, sweet, and everything Tamaki has wanted for the past few months, making him sigh into the kiss as Mirio leans forward.
Tamaki’s not flying; he’s soaring.
Mirio frames his face with his hands, and Tamaki can feel them trembling, but whether that is from the cold, from the excitement, from the fear, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that when Mirio pulls away, breathing heavily in sync with Tamaki’s own breaths, Tamaki feels drunker than before.
“Tamaki, I think I’m in love with you,” Mirio whispers, so tentatively, as if he's an acrobat tip-toeing on the edge of the rope. Tamaki’s chest feels so light he’s sure that if he accidentally fell off the roof, instead of plunging like lead towards the earth, he’d float above, until he reached the stars.
So he whispers, “Me too,” back and leans into Mirio, and finds that kissing his best friend for the first time underneath a blanket of stars is something he doubts he’ll ever forget.
Their graduation comes with tears, of sadness for leaving their high school days in U.A. behind, yet of happiness in the same time as they face the future.
Tamaki was actually the valedictorian of his class, but the mere idea of speaking to such a big crowd —not just the graduates of their year, but also parents, Pro Heroes, mentors, and paparazzi, as well as underclassmen— made his stomach turn like he’d eaten rotten food —again— so he had gladly relayed the task to Mirio and Nejire.
Their speech is rather cheesy for Tamaki’s taste —embarrassing, really— but the rest of the crowd looks enraptured in Mirio’s optimism and Nejire’s enthusiasm as they talk about the future unfolding right before their very eyes.
Even if Tamaki’s always considered their days as Pro Heroes more bleak than hopeful, Mirio’s words manage to dissolve those inkly blotches, leaving instead the prospect of that future shining a brilliant white.
When they get off the stage, tears have already formed in Nejire’s eyes as she engulfs them both in a bone-crushing hug, staining a bit their clothes with wetness, but neither minds. Soon after, she goes to find Uraraka and Tsuyu, and her bright blue hair disappears in the seemingly never-ending sea of people.
Tamaki turns, and in a rare display of public affection, he kisses Mirio, hugging him closer in the process.
“That speech was pretty good, you know. A bit sappy if I’m being honest,” he teases after pulling away, running a hand through Mirio’s hair, “but good.” Mirio laughs breathily at that.
“Ah, Tamaki, you’re too gloomy!” He scolds playfully, giving him a peck on the cheek.
“Not when I’m with you,” Tamaki says, a bit low, but Mirio hears him nonetheless. He pushes the bangs away from his face and gives him another kiss, this time on his forehead.
“That makes me really happy, you know. Now, let’s go! We gotta greet so many people!”
Tamaki sighs. “We do, don’t we?”
Still, the process doesn’t faze him. Not with Mirio on his side.
Kirishima and Midoriya are excited as always, congratulating their upperclassmen with zeal, and Kirishima even prompts his boyfriend —who looks more like a skulking pomeranian than anything, in Tamaki’s honest opinion— to do the same.
Of course, all their teachers are overjoyed, if a little sad to see them go. All Might has a box of tissues, which he claimed he’d brought for anyone that got emotional in such occasions, but has actually used most of the tissues himself. Everyone is kind enough to not point that out, though.
Sir Nighteye has smiled the most Tamaki has ever seen him, and Fatgum is crying too, even if he’s delighted upon seeing the gigantic buffet U.A. has to offer.
Surprisingly, Tamaki does not feel like he’s suffocating. Sure, he is rather uncomfortable around, especially with all the paparazzis razzing them about taking photos of the Big Three, but he’s eased up a bit, and he finds himself smiling quite a bit that day.
It’s the September after their graduation, and not having to wake up to go to U.A. but instead in Fatgum’s agency is...surreal.
Likewise, Mirio is working in Sir Nighteye’s agency, but the fact that they’re full-fledged heroes now, unconstrained by responsibilities of school and not yet being adults, is something that Tamaki can barely wrap his head around.
Still, it’s true, and he can’t say he doesn’t like his life as it is now.
He and Mirio have rented an apartment together, one that is close to both their jobs, as well as Nejire’s place, and are both working full-time as heroes, with all the responsibilities, joys, and sorrows that that brings.
Tamaki still worries about Mirio, about the fact that every day might be their last together, but Mirio’s smile makes it all go away —and besides, he knew that loving a hero would entail all that as well, and he’d never, ever walk away. The transition to their current situation had been a bizarre experience, but since they both went through it and they’d been inseparable for so long, the load on their shoulders had become lighter.
Nonetheless, for all the new prospects and doors now wide open for them, not everything is peachy.
For example, when Mirio comes back home all bloody and beaten up one day, Tamaki swears his heart stops beating for a second, then starts again as he races forward, supporting Mirio’s weight.
“What happened?” he asks, willing himself to calm down, because Mirio needs him.
“It’s...not my blood,” Mirio rasps out, and Tamaki inwardly sags from relief. “Villains ambushed us. Sir and I had to split up, but there were more than we had calculated. Still, everyone’s okay,” he adds with a smile.
“Mhm,” Tamaki says, seating him on the couch. The blood will be a pain to scrub out, but he can’t say he really cares at the moment. He grabs the first-aid kit sitting on the coffee table —a necessity, they’d mutually decided— and gets gauzes, needles, anything he believes he’ll need out while Mirio gets out of his hero costume.
“Why did you not go to the hospital, Mirio?” His scolding is gentle, though maybe he should be a little stricter.
“Many civilians from the rescue mission were already being treated?”
“Yeah, I’m sure the hospital staff would turn Pro Hero Lemillion away while he was injured,” Tamaki snorts.
“It’s not that bad,” Mirio insists, and to Tamaki’s eternal surprise, he’s right this time.
There’s a few cuts and grazes littering Mirio’s body, as well as bruises, and the right side of his jaw is slightly swollen, but overall, he seems fine, especially compared to some of the stuff he’s faced before.
“Hm,” Tamaki hums, cleaning up the cuts. “I’ll forgive you this time, but...don’t do that, Mirio.” He looks him in the eye with a pleading gaze. “I don’t want to lose you because you were being careless.” He frowns, while Mirio smiles at him.
“You won’t, Tamaki. A hero is never reckless, but always responsible!”
Tamaki places the bloody gauzes on the table as well; he’s too tired to clean this mess up now.
“Uh-huh. You stink, by the way.”
“Fine, fine, I’ll go shower.” Mirio gets up from the couch, kissing Tamaki’s cheek.
“If you need anything, let me know, okay?” Tamaki asks, and Mirio nods off-handedly while heading towards the bathroom.
Sighing, Tamaki goes to their shared bedroom, stripping off his clothes and getting in his pyjamas and underneath the covers. He grabs his book —the History Of Food-Related Quirks, a book Fatgum had insisted he read— and opens it to the latest chapter, immersing himself in it, because unlike what he’d believed at first glance, it’s actually a pretty interesting book.
Even though he and Mirio haven’t... done anything yet, sleeping in the same bed with him is more comforting for Tamaki than anything, and it comes especially handy when either of them wakes up thrashing or drenched in cold sweat from night terrors. Hero life doesn’t come without its fair share of burdens.
Lately, though, those nightmares have been a lot more tame for the both of them. Instead, Tamaki’s mind has been returning to thoughts of him and Mirio being more...intimate, which in turn results in profound embarrassment and mortification from his side. He doesn’t know what Mirio’s thoughts on this subject are, but he can’t help the anxiety clawing at his stomach whenever he thinks about this for too long, the anxiety that whispers that maybe Mirio doesn’t find him that attractive, not in that way. Or worse, that maybe he’s disgusted even by the mere idea of it.
For the most part, Tamaki can shoo away thoughts like the last one, but the notion that Mirio might very well not be into him... sexually perists.
So when Mirio comes out of the bathroom, with just a towel wrapped around his hips, Tamaki forces himself not to look at him, choosing instead to focus on the words dancing on the page in front of him, as if to mock him.
Mirio silently gets changed into his pyjamas too, turning his back to him, and Tamaki can feel his cheeks burning in shame and….something else he can’t exactly pinpoint. He puts the book on his nightstand with a small, controlled scowl, while Mirio goes to hang back the towel in the bathroom and comes in again, clearly tired, yet with a smile on his lips as always.
He lies on the bed next to Tamaki, and turns off the light, huddling underneath the covers.
Even in nearly absolute darkness, he senses that weird energy, terrible nervousness, rolling off of Tamaki in waves.
“Tamaki, is something the matter?”
He shakes his head, even though Mirio can’t really see him in the dark. “No, I’m fine. Could we just...cuddle a bit?” He asks, a tremor evident in his voice. He’s gotten better at voicing what he wants, what he needs, but expressing himself explicitly has always been a struggle.
“Of course. Come here,” Mirio says, and Tamaki scoots closer, allowing his boyfriend to enclose him in his arms, arms that could easily break bones but are oh-so-gentle when cradling Tamaki.
Mirio’s skin is still a bit hot from his shower, and Tamaki suppresses a shiver running down his spine. He puts his face in the junction between Mirio’s shoulder and throat, breathing in his pine-scented body wash, but when Mirio kisses the top of his head, he can’t help but let out a soft sigh against Mirio’s body.
He sits up a little and kisses Mirio, taking his time to explore his mouth, as he usually does when they’re not surrounded by others, and strokes his cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs. Mirio smiles into the kiss, pulling him closer, nearly on his lap.
Tamaki’s heartbeat picks up again, his previous thoughts flooding his mind again, and suddenly he feels like he’s sweating so, so much, and is in desperate need of an icy cold shower.
“Tamaki? What’s going on?”
Tamaki lowers his head in shame, even though he can barely make out anything, much less Mirio’s face.
“It’s—It’s nothing.” His stuttering only makes him sound less convincing.
He hears the low click and a soft light bathes them as Mirio turns on the lamp sitting on his nightstand. He gives Tamaki a fond smile, one that he keeps for occasions where he wants to make Tamaki feel treasured.
“I thought you were gonna tell me what you want from now on,” he says while pressing a kiss on Tamaki’s clavicle, then to the column of his throat. Tamaki takes a shaky breath.
“I—I was,” he says, then burrows his face in Mirio’s neck again. At that, Mirio laughs softly, and his breath tickles the skin below Tamaki’s ears.
“What is it, Tamaki?”
“Just—Just give me a second,” he breathes out, tightening his arms around Mirio. His stomach feels like an endless pit, and his breathing has started to come out faster.
Mirio brings him even closer to his body, rubbing soothing circles over Tamaki’s back.
Tamaki’s gotten better at regaining control of his body before his anxiety takes over and he trusts Mirio with his life —has actually done it more than a few times. While he breathes in, his heartbeat returns to its normal pace, and he doesn’t feel like he’s going to die any moment now.
“You...like me.” Though he knows it’s a hundred percent unnecessary, the supplementary right? is right on the tip of his tongue.
“Mhm,” Mirio hums. “In fact, one might say I don’t just like you, I love you.”
Tamaki stutters on his own words, so the “I love you too, Mirio,” he says comes out more as a choked gasp than anything.
“And you’re happy with me, right?”
“Very much so.”
Tamaki breathes in and out, deeply, as if drawing courage from the air itself. His nerves are completely frayed, and his cheeks are flooded with blood.
“So, why is it that…” He bites the inside of his cheeks, tries to get over himself and starts again. “How come you never…”
“I never what?” Mirio says, voice filled with concern, as if he’s terrified he’s hurt Tamaki, shoved him deeper in his shell instead of out of it.
“You never seem interested in me... sexually.” The moment the words leave Tamaki’s mouth, he realizes that yeah, he’s very much dying, mostly from his own shame. He hides his face in his hands.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Mirio says, and Tamaki can hear him holding back his laugh and oh god, he’s made it worse. “Tamaki, you think I don’t like you sexually? What made you come to that conclusion?”
He pries Tamaki’s hands away from his face and brushes one of his bangs aside, meeting his gaze. He doesn’t seem terribly offended, Tamaki observes. No, his face is earnest, honest, and betrays his curiosity.
Tamaki chews on his lip. “It’s just...We’ve—We’ve ki—kissed a lot and made ou—out a bit, and I was wondering…” It takes all his willpower to stop his teeth from splitting his bottom lip in half, so he just grits his jaw. “...How come nothing more.. .intimate,” he chokes out, “has happened yet.” A thought crosses his mind at lightning speed and he’s quick to correct himself. “It—It’s fine if you don’t want to! I—I was just, uhm, curious and thought I might have done something wrong…” Curse his damn stuttering, he hates his voice sounding so broken.
“Oh, Tamaki.” Mirio leans in to give him another peck, this time on the forehead. His cheeks are a bit more pink than usual. “I’m very much...interested in you...sexually,” he says, looking at the bedsheets as if suddenly finding the tiny cherry blossom designs on them interesting. “I just wasn’t sure if it was something you...wanted, and I didn’t want to pressure you or anything.” He shrugs. “I figured if you wanted something relating to...that department, you would let me know.”
Tamaki gives him a look that’s a mix between deadpan and incredulous, though it might have been more effective if his face wasn’t the colour of a tomato.
“And you thought I would initiate…” Tamaki swallows, putting the sheer embarrassment aside for a moment, “sex?”
Mirio laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, I guess maybe that wasn’t the smartest move from my part.”
“No,” Tamaki says dryly, though he can feel a tiny smile tugging at his lips. Mirio tilts his head to the side.
“So you want to have…” Don’t say it. “Sex?” Dammit.
Tamaki looks to the side, ignoring the hammering in his chest. “It is something I—I find myself thinking about...sometimes. Do—Do you?” he stammers.
“Well,” Mirio starts, sitting up a little so that Tamaki is more comfortable, “if you’re asking whether I think a lot about your eyes—” he locks his gaze with Tamaki’s own, determination shining through, “—your lips—” he swipes a thumb over Tamaki’s slightly chapped lips, “—your skin—” leaning forward, he kisses the junction between Tamaki’s neck and his shoulder, startling Tamaki, “—your chest—” Mirio’s palm traverses from his shoulders, to his pecs, to his stomach, to his navel, “—your legs—” two strong hands squeeze Tamaki’s legs, his quadriceps as he recalls from training, “then yeah, I think about those things a lot. I think a lot about you, underneath me, taking everything you can and want to give me. Does that scare you?” The combination of worry and gentleness in Mirio’s voice has him fighting back a shudder.
“No,” he whispers. No, that doesn’t scare him.
“Good,” Mirio says, stroking Tamaki’s legs in an up-and-down motion. “I’d despise myself if I made you afraid of this, or of me.”
“Hm. I could never despise you though,” Tamaki says. Mirio’s previous admission regarding sex still swims a bit in his head, making him light-headed, so he complies in a heartbeat when Mirio says, “Come closer. I want to kiss you.”
It's slow, unhurried, just how Tamaki likes it —how both of them like it. Mirio’s lips fit with his own, but he takes his time kissing Tamaki senseless. His hands rest on Tamaki’s waist. His grip is not too tight to hurt —it never is— but it’s steady enough to ground Tamaki into reality, to shake away the murkiness in his brain. While Mirio’s busy exploring his mouth and bruising his neck, Tamaki realizes that this —sex— is a very, very real possibility.
His heartbeat stutters, and everything's once again far too hot, but it's as if Mirio has his own magnetic field.
Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to pull away.
He runs his hands through Mirio’s hair, relishing in the damp softness between his fingers, and Mirio pressing harder into their kiss tells him he’s probably doing something right. He grips Mirio’s hair, trying to bring him impossibly closer, and ends up grinding on Mirio’s lap. Mirio lets out a choked, swallowed by their kiss moan, but it’s more than enough to freeze Tamaki in place, which in turn makes Mirio still as well. “I—I’m sorry, do you want to...do you want to stop?”
Consideration shines through his tone, but it’s paired with a self-consciousness that’s uncharacteristic for Mirio, so Tamaki strokes his cheek with the back of his palm.
“No.” Even though he can’t help but lower his gaze, his voice doesn’t waver. “No, you just took me by surprise, ‘s all. I didn’t know...I didn’t know I...I affected you so much,” he whispers.
Mirio’s laugh is hoarse, but he seems to have regained his confidence.
“You do, Tamaki. Sometimes, you’re all I can think about out.”
Tamaki raises a playful eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Mhmm. Just the other day, I was thinking about that time we skipped class to go make out, and how nice you looked with your lips all red.”
“Aizawa-sensei catching us kind of killed the mood, though, don’t you think?”
Mirio laughs again.
“I’m serious, Tamaki. I think about you so much it’ll drive me crazy someday.”
Tamaki can feel his face heating up again, so instead of letting his embarrassment consume him like it usually does, he opts for kissing Mirio again, and Mirio doesn’t seem at all opposed to this outcome. This time, his hands find their way to Tamaki’s glutes while his lips ghost over Tamaki’s neck, then down to his clavicle. His breath hitches, and as Mirio gently squeezes his hands around his skin, a low moan is pulled from his throat. A tug on his shirt makes his eyes snap open and face an equally flushed Mirio.
“May I?” he asks, and Tamaki nods shyly.
“Can you...too?” he rasps, not really sure if he’s making any sense, but Mirio understands his question all the same, and smiles in response.
“Of course,” he says.
He takes off his shirt in one swift move, and Tamaki would be lying if he claimed it wasn’t a mouth-watering sight. Slowly, he takes off his own shirt, suppressing a shiver from so much of his skin being suddenly exposed, but Mirio’s adoring look and his subsequent surge to fiercely kiss him doesn’t leave much room for thought.
Despite the fact that he can hear Mirio’s blood singing underneath his skin, or that he can feel him harden between his own legs, Mirio’s still careful with him, even if his hands roaming everywhere on Tamaki’s skin are torturous —in the best way.
Tamaki breaks their kiss, breathing more heavily than he'd like, and lets his eyes drift lower, towards Mirio's pants. His mouth dries completely, because seeing the evidence of Mirio's arousal is different than just feeling it.
He wants Mirio's pants off.
Mirio picks up on it, so he taps Tamaki's thighs twice.
"C'mon, I'll take them off."
Tamaki nods, and gets off of Mirio's laps. The sudden friction from his legs rubbing together brings about the realization that he's aroused as well. The sound Mirio's zipper makes is enticing, if a little jarring in the quiet of the room, and it prompts Tamaki to shimmy out of his own pajama pants as well.
He tosses them at the other end of the bed, not really finding it in himself to care, and Mirio's land right next to them. Tamaki turns to look at Mirio, and oh god, what a sight he is.
Flushed face, eyes raking up and down Tamaki's body, shoulders and biceps that betray a nearly terrifying strength, well-defined abs that Tamaki really shouldn't want to get his mouth on, but he does...
Mirio's voice snaps him out of his —shameless— inspection.
"Lie down, love."
He complies silently, though he can hear his heartbeat, and he's pretty sure Mirio can, too. He settles next to Mirio, resting his head on the fluffy pillow.
Mirio, once again, takes his time with him, leaving small hickeys on his chest while caressing his skin, and that's more than enough to make Tamaki softly hum in pleasure.
When Mirio's teeth catch on one of his nipples though, and his hand traps the other one between the knuckles, Tamaki moans, surprised both by Mirio's actions and his own lack of embarrassment that he was sure would follow him well into his first time. Mirio plays for a little longer with his chest, then ventures lower and lower, until he fingers the hem of Tamaki's boxers. He raises his head and looks at Tamaki, asking silently for permission. Tamaki's head instinctively snaps to the side to avoid eye contact, especially during this, but he nods, and from the corner of his eye, he's pretty sure Mirio's beaming at him.
He closes his eyes when he feels the slow drag of fabric over his legs, and lets out a shaky breath as Mirio kisses the inside of his thighs, making goosebumps erupt all over his skin.
Mirio softly bites the inside of his thighs, and Tamaki whines in response, and normally he wouldn't be so forward, but this is torment, and the heat between his legs is far too much, and Mirio isn't doing anything about it—
Suddenly, Mirio's mouth is around him, and oh my god, that is the most incredible thing he's ever felt. A choked moan tapers off the walls, and Tamaki should have half a mind to be embarrassed about how lewd it sounded, but right now he can't think about anything, not with the white hot pleasure building up below his stomach.
Mirio's hands stop kneading his thighs, migrating instead a bit higher, until they reach his ass, and start groping there instead, putting Tamaki even more on edge, and he's not gonna last.
Mirio makes a humming sound from the back of his throat, and the vibration is enough to make Tamaki topple over the edge, crying out as sparks zig-zag down his spine. Mirio slows down, making Tamaki ride out his orgasm while tracing with his palms incoherent patterns on Tamaki's skin. Tamaki pants, sounding like he's just run a marathon, and Mirio hovers over him, becoming everything Tamaki can see.
He surges up to meet Mirio's lips in a hot, open-mouthed kiss, wrapping his arms around his chest.
"You alright?" Mirio asks, ever so gentle. Tamaki nods, then blushes even hotter when he remembers that he's the only one completely nude, Mirio's boxers still clinging to his hips. He lowers his gaze and places his hands on Mirio's waist, hugging him closer.
"C—Can I?" he says, taking the hem between his fingers.
"Of course," Mirio whispers.
After an awkward attempt at taking them off, followed by Mirio's kind chuckling, Tamaki manages to toss them somewhere —hopefully on the bed.
"You know you don't have to like ..."repay the favor" or whatever, right?" he asks Tamaki, exaggerating the air quotes.
"I know," Tamaki says, giving Mirio a chaste kiss. "I want to, though. Do you...Do you want to go the whole way?"
"...Yeah. Do you?"
Mirio's hand nudges his chest, and Tamaki lies down again.
Mirio opens the drawer of the bedside table on his side of the bed, taking out a small bottle containing clear liquid and tossing it on the bed. He scowls when he notices something, and Tamaki taps his arm.
"We, uh...We don't have any condoms."
"I..." Tamaki says, his mind racing. "Have you done this with someone else before?"
Mirio shakes his head.
"Me neither," Tamaki admits quietly, then shrugs. "So it's fine, right?"
"...I...think so. We don't have to do it if you don't want to, though," Mirio reassures him once again, and Tamaki's heart flutters from the care.
"I want to, Mirio. I really, really do."
Mirio smiles. "That's good."
"Mhmm. Hey, do you mind if...if you're on top? I'm not really...comfortable with..."
"Of course," Mirio says, then grabs Tamaki by the hips, dragging him down so that he's above him once again.
Mirio kisses down his legs, and Tamaki guesses he’s getting impatient as well, what with the hurried strokes he makes against Tamaki’s skin, or the sound the cap of the bottle of lube being opened echoes in his ears.
He lets Mirio nudge his legs open, resisting the instinctive urge to snap them close. His breath hitches when Mirio’s fingers prod gently at his entrance, but he forces himself to calm down. A slicked finger slides in, nearly effortlessly, and even though Tamaki’s done some experimenting on his own, Mirio brings about a whole new sensation.
“Tell me if it’s too much,”
He curls his finger inside, then nearly removes it, then slides it back home again. He does it again and again, to get Tamaki used to the feeling, a process easier than Tamaki expected, probably because his first orgasm had already helped him relax.
Mirio pushes another finger, and slips in deep, eliciting a groan from Tamaki. He curls them, searching, and Tamaki throws his head back onto the pillow.
“Tamaki, breathe for me, baby,” Mirio coos, and Tamaki inhales, forcing himself to stay still, but all his efforts are tossed out of the window as Mirio starts scissoring his fingers, working him open.
Mirio gets on his knees, his fingers still inside, and leans forward to capture his lips in a breathless, heady kiss. It’s cut short, because Tamaki accidentally bites a bit harder than he should on Mirio’s bottom lip when Mirio’s fingers press up against that spot.
Mirio smiles cheekily. “It’s that, isn’t it?”
Tamaki just groans in response, wishing the earth would just swallow him already, but then, as Mirio curls his fingers again, and again, and again, he’s groaning for entirely different reasons.
Mirio continues working him open, starts peppering kisses on Tamaki’s chest and stomach as a pleasant distraction, because when a third finger joins in, Tamaki isn’t exactly the most comfortable. A soft whine leaves his lips, but Mirio swallows it down with his own, murmuring, “Shh, I’ve got you Tamaki, I’ve got you.” Mirio’s left hand, currently gripping his waist is trembling, Tamaki realizes, and remembers that this experience, this slew of foreign emotions and sensations is new for Mirio as well.
“Mirio, hey, stop.” It’s barely a hoarse whisper, but Mirio halts immediately. He throws a concerned look Tamaki’s way.
“Are you okay?”
“Mhmm, I’m fine, just—”
He pulls his fingers out, slowly, and the squelching sound reverberating in the calm of the room is nearly enough to make Tamaki hide his face in his hands in embarrassment. Nearly.
He gets up on his knees, and traps Mirio’s wrists in his hands.
“Hey. Calm down. What’s going on?” he mumbles, resting his head on Mirio’s shoulder and kissing the skin covering the bones of his clavicle.
“It’s noth—” Mirio stars saying, but Tamaki’s not fooled, and just a look conveys the feeling, so Mirio falls silent.
“I’m just...I haven’t done this before.”
“I know. I told you, me neither.” He grazes his teeth over the spot just underneath Mirio’s ear.
“I’m—I’m afraid I’ll hurt you, Tamaki.”
Tamaki wasn’t expecting that, but now that he thinks about it, it’s only logical. He ponders a bit over all the possible outcomes of their first time not going as he believes it will, and none of the potential scenarios —even the ones that are straight-up disastrous— involve Mirio hurting him, not even by accident.
So he just shakes his head, and reassures Mirio. “You won’t hurt me. I don’t believe you’re capable of that, and not because I don’t think you’re strong enough to physically do it.” He kisses Mirio, this time on the lips. “Now, I’d say you should hurry up a bit, because frankly, I’m dying, and—” he looks down for confirmation, “—it looks like you are, too.”
Mirio huffs a laugh. Tamaki runs his hands up and down Mirio’s legs, sensing the power that lies in those muscles. He flops down again, and, shoving all the embarrassment that comes instinctively from such an action in the back of his head, parts his legs for Mirio. “Do your worst.”
Mirio’s breath catches in his throat, and Tamaki thinks for a fleeting second that maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say, but Mirio rushes down to suck on the column of his throat instead .
“That was hot.”
Tamaki feels himself throb, and he’s pretty sure Mirio can feel it too, because he pulls back and spreads Tamaki’s legs wider. His eyes follow Mirio’s movements as he goes to grab the lube, spread some over his right hand and give a couple of strokes.
He moves closer, and starts pushing in.
The pressure is what shocks Tamaki the most, the three fingers from before paling in comparison to Mirio’s cock, and the heat that ensues is enough to drive him crazy, making him buck his hips up, but Mirio cages them, stilling Tamaki’s movement as he slides in deeper, and Tamaki nearly sobs from all the sensations.
“God, Tamaki, you—you’re incredible, baby,” Mirio praises, bottoming out smoothly and stopping his hips from pulling back.
“Ah—Mirio, move,” Tamaki says, and that’s apparently the only command Mirio needs, because his hips snap back and then drive in again, making heat flood Tamaki’s body, underneath his skin and down to his core.
Mirio’s hand finds its way on Tamaki’s cock, and he strokes him, effortlessly ripping a moan out of him.
He slows down a bit, taking the time to really make Tamaki feel it, feel his cock sliding in and out, tormenting Tamaki as he hits his prostate repeatedly.
“Mirio—c’mon, please—” he pleads, whimpering as Mirio picks up the pace again. Bliss clouds his brain, shutting down any coherent thought while Mirio works him open and jerks him off at the same time. Mirio’s pants, and his groans, the way his hips stutter more and more frequently, how he looks at Tamaki like he hung the moon, they all make Tamaki melt, bringing him closer and closer on edge. A particularly hard thrust paired with Mirio’s hand tightening around his cock is what does it for him, and he ascends into his second orgasm of the night, feeling himself clench around Mirio, and spurting on his stomach.
He shudders from the pleasure coursing through his veins, and Mirio’s —frantic now— speed makes him moan. His mind blanks out completely when Mirio comes undone, spilling inside him and nearly bruising Tamaki’s hips in his hold.
After a solid minute of both of them panting and reacquainting themselves with their surroundings, Mirio collapses next to him. Tamai winces at the loss, as well as a soreness overtaking both his hips and ass.
Mirio exhales next to him.
“I...Wow,” is all he manages, and Tamaki agrees with the sentiment.
“I...I don’t know if this was as good for you as it was for me...but just—that felt incredible.”
“Mirio, I literally c—came twice,” he deadpans, though his stuttering from the embarrassment has returned.
Mirio smiles, pecking Tamaki’s cheek. “We can’t sleep like that. We need to shower,” he prompts.
“Didn’t you just shower?”
“Yeah, but you got me all dirty now,” Mirio teases. Tamaki snorts, but his eyes widen when Mirio’s previous words register.
“Wait...You mean like...shower together?”
Mirio scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “...I mean. If you want to, yeah.”
Tamaki props himself up on his elbows, and bites his lips.
“Okay,” he says. “You’ll have to carry me, though, because I think I’m gonna fall if I try walking after this.”
Mirio beams and gets up, goes to Tamaki’s side of the bed, and lifts him up bridal-style, laughing when Tamaki yelps at the sudden movement.
“I didn’t mean to carry me like that, Mirio!” He wiggles around, which makes Mirio tighten his grip.
“Stop squirming, I’m afraid I’ll drop you!”
Tamaki hisses and grips Mirio’s shoulders instead. “Don’t. I’m so sore, if you drop me after that, I’ll never walk again.”
Mirio’s laugh echoes down the hallway, and in Tamaki’s chest.
Tamaki’s stomach has risen to his throat, and he wipes his sweaty palms on the handkerchief for the third time.
“Tamaki, everything’s fine!” Nejire reassures him, as Kirishima comes in with a glass of water —or vodka.
“Hngh,” he says, taking the glass and gulping the liquid —water, unfortunately— down in one go.
“What if I fuck up, Nejire? Oh god, what if he doesn’t want this, I’m gonna die,” he laments, giving the glass back to Kirishima, who sets it on the vanity and pats Tamaki’s shoulder as a form of encouragement.
“Dude, there’s no way Mirio doesn’t want this!” he exclaims, and the logical part of Tamaki’s brain knows Kirishima’s right, Mirio had proposed to him after all, but he can’t stop biting his lips and digging his nails on the inside of his palms.
“Tamaki, hey. Listen to me. Everything will be okay. Mirio wants this as much as you do, trust me. The day before he proposed he wouldn’t stop talking my ear off because he was worried about pressuring you, and I told him that you’re both idiots.”
“No problem.” She shakes her head. “Point is, there’s nothing holding you back. And also, how could he not want this, I mean, look at you!”
She turns the full-length mirror towards him,and Tamaki must admit he looks...nice. His unreasonably expensive suit —Nejire’s insistence— fits him better than most things in his closet, and Nejire also managed to tame all the stray flyaways of his hair, making it appear less like a bedhead.
He takes a deep breath.
“Okay. Okay,” he whispers.
Tamaki doesn’t really trust his voice not to tremble, so he just nods, and forces himself to stop biting his lips and the inside of his cheeks.
“Alright then. Kirishima, go tell Fatgum to come over here, because I do not want us to be late,” Nejire commands.
She turns to Tamaki, runs her palm along his arm, and surprisingly, it does help with his nerves.
“You’re gonna do great, Tamaki.” She squeezes him in a hug, and the sequins of her night-blue dress make Tamaki’s skin itch. She smells like roses, or something equally...flowery, Tamaki supposes, but the way she has him caged is comforting.
“Hope I’m not interrupting something,” Fatgum teases, approaching them, and Nejire lets go of Tamaki as she laughs. “Nejire, Mirio’s gonna walk in in a few seconds, so I think you should go.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “That’s right! I gotta go, but Tamaki, you got this!” She gives him two thumbs up, and he manages a wobbly smile in response.
Once she’s out of the room, Tamaki collapses on the couch, letting out a shaky breath. Fatgum comes and sits next to him and wraps his arms around him much like Nejire did, except he’s suffocating Tamaki.
“F—Fatgum—can’t breathe—” he stutters, and Fatgum’s laugh booms in the small room, and he lets him go.
“Don’t be a baby, Tamaki.”
“This is bullying.”
“Ha!” He punches Tamaki’s arm playfully. “C’mon. You have nothing to worry about.”
“I...know,” Tamaki admits. Deep down, he does.
“Besides, I won’t let you trip while walking down the aisle, so don’t worry about that.”
“I wasn’t until now,” he wheezes. Fatgum blinks.
“Oh. Uhm, oops?” he smiles, then laughs again when Tamaki gives him a glare that’s more distressed than menacing. “Get up, chickling. Though I guess you’re not much of a chickling anymore,” he chuckles, pretending to wipe a tear away —or maybe he’s not pretending at all.
Tamaki smiles. “I guess not.”
Fatgum jerks his head towards the door. “I think everything and everyone is ready now.” He gets up, offering his arm to him. Tamaki hesitates only for a moment before taking it.
The walk down the aisle passes by in a blur, really, some of it from Tamaki making an effort not to look at everyone —even though there aren’t that many people— but mostly because Mirio’s already on the altar, looking like the happiest man in the world.
Tamaki nearly stumbles, but Fatgum’s steady grip doesn’t let him fall, and he’s pretty sure no one catches it anyway.
Once he’s facing Mirio, he allows himself to exhale silently, as Fatgum takes his seat, and Nejire clears her throat.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today—” Nejire starts, but her words are a lull fading in the background as Tamaki’s eyes lock with Mirio’s, and he smiles, “—because these two finally decided to tie the knot,” she announces, making their audience chuckle and Tamaki blush. “No seriously,” she continues, “when they told me they were together back in our second year in U.A., I asked “when’s the wedding?” And then of course, Tamaki choked on his food and Mirio laughed.”
How did she even remember that?
“Anyways, they’ve come a really long way since then, and I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for this, so I’ll try to keep this short. Mirio, would you like to say your vows?”
Mirio turns to the side. “Midoriya?”
Midoriya fumbles for a second, and Tamaki thinks oh god this is it, he forgot the cards with Mirio’s wedding vows, I’m gonna die, but then he takes a small piece of paper out of his pocket, and Tamaki’s heart slows down a bit. Mirio seems to have read his thoughts and smiles to reassure him, taking the paper and clearing his throat.
“Tamaki, I...I can’t adequately express you how nervous I was when I proposed.”
Tamaki can vividly remember Mirio accidentally phasing through the floor when he got down on one knee.
“I was constantly thinking about the possibility of screwing up, of you not wanting this...and when you said yes, I swear, I felt like the happiest man in the world. I realized I was wrong, though.” Tamaki frowns, but Mirio’s smile is bright like the sun, and he can’t find any doubts lingering. “Now I’m the happiest man in the world. Because you’re here, and even though I was yours and you were mine way before I even thought about proposing, now I can announce it to the whole world, I can show everyone how utterly, incredibly lucky I am, and how happy I’m gonna be for the rest of my life. That is, if you’ll have me,” he adds with a shy smile, and Tamaki chuckles lowly.
“Tamaki, would you like to say your vows?” Nejire asks, and she sounds so excited Tamaki breaks into a grin.
“Of course. Kirishima?”
“They’re right here!”
The paper nearly slips from his hands due to the sweat, but he grips it tighter, and takes a deep breath. His eyes dart only between Mirio and his vows, resolutely ignoring the people waiting to hear his declaration of love.
“As the days approached for this, I was nervous, the most nervous I’ve ever been, I think. In fact, even just a few minutes ago, I was chugging down mouthfuls of water and had three people trying to calm me down.” A few laughs register, though none mocking. “And yet, even with people staring at us right now, even when my head is screaming at me about all the possible things that could go wrong, I think this is the calmest I’ve felt in a while. Because I look at you, and everything ceases to exist. I remember, when I was much younger, and I asked you what being in love felt like. I don’t remember your response word for word, but you said this: You’re brave when you’re with them. And after you gave me that answer, I thought to myself, oh. I’m in love with him. It was that simple. We’ve been together for a while now, and after quite a bit of introspection, I came to the conclusion that you’re my first everything. You were my first friend, my first love, my first kiss.” My first time, he doesn’t say, but Mirio understands nonetheless. “And even though I should have been absolutely terrified, because I’m scared of trying new things, I wasn’t. Because you were there with me, always so patient, always so kind. I wouldn’t have this any other way, Mirio, and I hope that I can give you as much as you’ve given me.” His eyes are suspiciously wet as Mirio whispers, “You already have.”
Nejire’s eyes seem to be brimming with tears as well.
“Do you, Toogata Mirio, take Amajiki Tamaki to be your lawful husband?”
“And do you, Amajiki Tamaki, take Toogata Mirio to be your lawful husband?”
“Then,” Nejire says, and the tremble in her voice reflects Tamaki’s heart fluttering, “you two may now kiss.”
They both rush forward at once, and the kiss they share is a promise, I’ll cherish you forever, and a gratitude, thank you for having me.
Everyone erupts in cheers, and the occasional catcall —it’s Nejire, Tamaki’s sure of it— and when they break apart for air, Tamaki feels so very drunk, just like he did on that rooftop that feels like it was a hundred years ago, yet only just yesterday.
Everything after that passes by in a dizzying rush, from Sir Nighteye patting Fatgum on the back and even giving him a tissue, to Midoriya and Todoroki congratulating them. When Midoriya goes to fetch them drinks, Todoroki mumbles quietly that he would like to propose to Midoriya as well, and asks if Mirio has any advice on the matter. Tamaki, in a moment of confidence, says, “He looks at you like Mirio looks at me when he thinks I’m not looking, so I’d say you’re fine.”
Todoroki seems a bit dumbfounded, and Mirio has the decency to blush.
Kirishima and Bakugou are next.
“Dude, I thought you were gonna die before you walked down the aisle.”
Tamaki smiles. “Me too, but everything worked out,” he says, turning to Mirio and shortly joining their lips together again.
Bakugou’s mellowed over the years, Tamaki notes, appearing a lot less angry, though he still scowls like nobody’s business.
“Um. Congrats,” Bakugou says, and Tamaki would have thought Kirishima had pestered him about being polite if Kirishima’s eyebrows hadn’t just risen up in surprise. “That was...a nice wedding. Better than having three hundred fucking people and a shitton of paparazzis.”
Mirio chuckles. “Thanks.”
Tamaki’s barely aware of the rest of congratulating —and crying— but when he and Mirio get into the car, on their way to the airport to catch their flight to Venice, his brain catches up with everything that’s happened and he slumps against his seat, letting out something that’s a mix between a sigh and a groan. Miro’s smiling, even though he looks a bit exhausted as well.
“That went well.”
“Mhmm,” Tamaki hums. It really did.
He looks outside the car window.
The sakura trees lining the road that paves the way to their future are blooming tonight.