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Please Sir, May I Have Some ᵁʰʰʰʰʰʰʰʰʰʰʰ

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Mirio coughs himself awake, blinking rapidly. He isn't alone, Sir Nighteye shakes him by the shoulders, holding him steady against a brick wall. They’re outside? An alleyway by the looks of it. Something must have gone wrong with the mission then. He almost remembers, there were… more villains than expected? Mirio can't seem to piece his thoughts together, his whole body feels hot, itchy, distracted. Aroused for seemingly no reason, his cock twitches, quickly filling out in his pants.


"Um- ah jeez, what?" Dizziness, as he steadies himself on the wall, he feels so feverish, so confused.


"Togata. Togata." Nighteye snaps fingers in front of Mirio's face. "Their backup had some sort of aphrodisiac quirk— they escaped but we've confirmed their identities so a full report is… still expected." 


Sir goes on to ask Mirio a question that he can't hear through the blood rushing in his ears. His body aches, burns. He's so hard it's almost impressive, but he doesn't even have it in him to feel any sort of embarrassment just yet. Sir studies him expectantly.


Wait, does Sir expect him to answer? Of course he does, he always seems to expect a little too much of Mirio at any given time. He tries to pull himself together.


"I gotta what?"


"Skin on skin contact. Presumably, intercourse." Intercourse! Sir is all business. "Do you have someone you could call, someone who could help you with this type of thing?" 


Tamaki, he thinks instantly. Tamaki would help him with anything. But… in this case, that would mean…


"No-" He gasps, finding himself more and more out of breath. He leans against the bricks, waits for the dizzy spell to pass. 


"What about the boy you're in love with?" Sir frowns.


Wow! Sir doesn't pull any punches. Mirio looks up at him desperately, wondering if he could make his boss understand. Words are becoming harder and harder to get out, the connection between his brain and his mouth fuzzy, frayed. His groin throbs.


"Well I'm- yeah I'm in love with him, sure, but I can't-" Mirio shakes his head, groans as another wave of arousal nearly sends him to his knees. He takes a breath, tries again.


"Sir, I've known Tamaki since we were eight. I can't ask him to have sex with me, we haven't even kissed yet!" Mirio finishes with a groan into hands. When he glances up Sir looks surprised, pushing his glasses up his nose. 


Mirio's relationship with Tamaki is a lot of things. It's walking barefoot on damp grass, the sun shining overhead, it's splitting a popsicle perfectly in two. It's holding hands because the crowds are large, the world so big that they settle in their smaller one instead, tethered to one another. It's sharing food and drinks and secret glances across various classrooms, it's an entire silent language learned after 9 years of  friendship. It's sitting under one blanket, watching a movie that nobody's really watching at all because their shoulders are pressed together and their hands are so close and it's all too distracting. It's one cup overflowing, a platonic, innocent love beginning to fill another bowl, take another form. It's slow and easy and wonderful and natural and as much time as Mirio spends in his room jerking off to very specific types of tentacle porn, he isn't ready to add sex into the equation. Not out of nowhere, and not like this. 


(Your first time is supposed to be special, but is that for your first time ever, or just your first with each person? What counts as sex? Handjobs, blowjobs, or does it have to be full on doin' it in the butt? Would the school notice his absence tonight?) 


There's a lot of things to think about and Mirio's hazy brain doesn't want to work on any of it. So he simplifies.


Does he want to go back to Tamaki, attempt to explain himself, and forcefully start off their sexual relationship on that note? 


No, he really doesn't.


Does he want to ask Sir Nighteye to take care of him, take care of everything so Mirio doesn't even have to think anymore?


…Yes, yes he absolutely does. 


Mirio swallows, his mouth dry; shivers as he slips off his gloves. At least the mission failure wasn't entirely his fault. He was doing fine until somebody threw dust in his face.


"Um… Sir?" By the absolutely perfected blank slate look on Sir Nighteye's face, he already knows what Mirio is going to ask him. Maybe Sir will save him the embarrassment by not making him say it explicitly.




Sir makes him say it explicitly, three different times in three different ways. Mirio is thoroughly embarrassed- a rare occurrence- but he means it, he's made his decision. Afterwards he makes a breathless joke about Sir pulling out a specified NDA for him to sign. To Mirio's delight, that finally cracks Sir's overly serious facade and he's rewarded with a smile. 


(It doesn't have to be a big deal, right? Mirio needs a specific type of help and Sir is going to help him. Mirio is going to make many bad jokes about it, which Sir likes, and nothing has to change. 



A tremor runs up his spine, he has to keep clenching his hands so they won't shake. Is he nervous? The way his heart slams in his chest makes it seem so. He kind of wants to cry. Maybe overwhelmed is a better word.


"Togata." Oh, Sir was saying something again, something Mirio missed completely because he's too focused on not letting his knees give out. Then Sir is there again, steadying him up against the wall, chin brushing the top of Mirio's head, speaking softly.


"Close your eyes, Togata. I'm going to take care of you once then call a cab, understood?" 


"Yessir-" Mirio breathes, a sigh clearing his lungs as a massive weight lifts from his mind, his shoulders. His hands move to clutch at Sir's lapels, wet eyes squeezing shut. Trusting Sir to take care of it, take care of him, take care of everything. 


He has to press a hand over his mouth firmly when Sir undoes his pants. Desperation washes over every synapse in his brain, a tidal wave of desire with a level of intensity that he's never experienced before and doubts he'll ever experience again. He's so tense he can't stop trembling. Mirio wants, the longing so thick and sharp and boiling over, he couldn't keep quiet if he tried. The air fills with small whines and whimpers and panted moans that escalate sharply as Sir's cool hand meets his flesh for the first time.


"Breathe, Togata. Slowly, no hyperventilating." Sir's voice cuts through the static.


Mirio shakes. Breathes. Nobody has ever touched him like this before, nobody's hands but his own. He's so swollen and flushed and sensitive, the sheer amount of relief that hits him when Sir takes him in hand nearly knocks him over. Sir pins him steady to the brick, far stronger than he appears. He doesn't stroke him yet, just wraps his long fingers around Mirio's length, squeezes, begins a slow massage. Mirio moans into his hand, long and low, tears springing to his eyes. It's perfect, any less and he'd still be burning, more and he might have actually started sobbing.


Sir keeps his hand firm, his pace steady, and of course it's not long until Mirio's pleasure plateaus. He needs both hands again to clutch at Sir Nighteye's lapels, so he clenches his teeth, doesn't want to make too much noise out here behind this building. His knees give up right as he erupts all over Nighteye's hand with a strangled "-thankyou Sir!"


Most of the tension bleeds from his body immediately as he gasps, catches his breath, still leaning heavily on his boss. Sir wipes his hand on the fabric of Mirio's pants and tucks him away, takes a step back. 



One phone call later and a cab is on its way. As they wait, Mirio nervously babbles- about Tamaki, about tentacles, about the mission, he thanks Nighteye at least seven or eight different times, he can't seem to shut himself up.


Sir checks his watch briefly before giving Mirio another quick handjob in the alley. This time slicked by the previous run, Sir's hand strokes and squeezes, thumb pressed firmly beneath the head of Mirio's cock, giving real meaning to the phrase 'rub one out'. Mirio's pretty sure it takes less than a minute.


By the time the cab arrives, Mirio is feeling less tense. But once he quiets down his mouth in front of the cab driver, his brain won't shut up. He can feel the very earth spin beneath him, round and round and everything keeps spiraling through his mind and leading back to Tamaki.


Ultimately, it still feels like a betrayal. Mirio guilt spirals, argues with himself back and forth. He should have asked for Tamaki's input maybe, before he even made a decision. But Tamaki would be so worried, and what if he felt like he had to help even if he didn't want to? And what if he did want to? They would both be so nervous, and Mirio would be too out of it to lighten the mood. They couldn't have a romantic first time like that! But then, later on, when he and Tamaki are ready to take that step, it won't actually be Mirio's first time. He'll have to tell Tamaki, of course he will. But not… not too soon, not out of the blue. Maybe after they have their first kiss and talk about sex and stuff. Then Mirio could tell him.


He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening up his convo with Tamaki, tapping the message box. The blinking line taunts him and his addled brain.


Would Tamaki feel hurt that Mirio didn't want to go to him for this? Because oh god, hurting Tamaki's feelings is a cardinal sin. But Tamaki understands him better than anyone else on this planet. Even if it does hurt, later on, Mirio hopes he'll understand. 


(He can't believe he's overthinking relationship stuff already and he and Tamaki aren't even in a relationship. It's just… complicated, when you know you're going to marry somebody someday.)


'Tamaki!!' He begins his message as per usual. 'I got hit with a weird quirk on the job, I'm fine!- but Sir just wants to make sure it wears off okay so I'll see you tomorrow!!'


He hits send as Sir picks up his own phone to make a call. Bubble Girl, by the sounds of it. He demands full reports of the villain's quirks they encountered, then tells her to lock up the office because he won't be returning until tomorrow. He makes another call, but Mirio misses most of it because Tamaki texts him back and his erection is reaching that painful stage again.


'okay. be safe, see you tomorrow'


Mirio stares at Tamaki's message on his phone for far too long, reading it over and over until the characters jumble together. When he looks out the window, all the neon signs blur as they speed past. It's not a lie, what he told Tamaki. But it also wasn't the truth and that makes him sick, it really does. Tamaki deserves better. Tamaki deserves everything.


"Togata." Sir's voice, sharp and direct, cuts through his haze. "How does one determine the velocity of an object?"


"Bwha-?" Mirio slips his phone back into his pocket, brain barely comprehending the terms Nighteye is suddenly throwing at him. Sir simply raises an eyebrow.


"It's the um-" Mirio blinks. Velocity? Science? Now?? Really??? "-How far something goes over um- time it takes?"


"Good." Sir looks straight ahead, posture hunched, head brushing the roof of the cab. Must be a pain to be so tall sometimes. "What about average acceleration?"


Why on earth is Sir asking him all these hard questions now of all times? It's so hard to focus, thoughts slipping back and forth from science to sex to Tamaki. Mirio's brow furrows as he thinks, leaning on Sir's shoulder as a wave of arousal fogs his brain and cramps his stomach. After another moment, he gives what he thinks is the right answer, eyes pressed shut.


"Good." Sir repeats, voice softer. Mirio hopes he doesn't mind that he's so close. Feeling Sir's warmth through his suit is comforting. He takes a breath, forcing his body to relax a bit, hands gently stimming with the fabric of his cape.


Sir asks him another question, this time about projectile motion trajectory and he audibly groans, turning to rub his forehead against the fabric of Sir's suit. Sir repeats the question. This time, Mirio knows for a fact his answer is wrong but he gets a "Good." anyways.


It's when the cab rolls to a stop that Mirio realizes Sir was purposely distracting him. Either from being drugged or from beating himself up too bad about the Tamaki thing, he isn't sure. Maybe both. It worked too, of course it did. Sir is a genius. Mirio almost wants to cry again, he's so grateful for his mentor. He's always considered himself lucky to be under Sir's wing. Sir never had to be this good to him.


The cool night air is welcome, he follows Nighteye up the slim front pathway to his house. When they arrive at the front door, Sir pauses, key in the lock. Mirio is burning again, he squirms in place, wondering what the holdup is.


"I wasn't expecting visitors." Sir manages finally, swinging open the door. Mirio swears he sees a blush on Sir's face before the man quickly ushers them both inside.



If Mirio had expected something of Sir Nighteye's house, it was that it probably looked akin to his office, minimalist and All Might. The reality is more All Might than expected, but just as clean. 


Mirio collapses onto his couch, focuses on breathing and not doing things like whining or begging or pleading for Sir to fuck him already. He thinks he's managing to play it pretty cool when his brain feels like it’s literally melting in his skull. Sir locks the door behind them and moves about his living room. Mirio drifts, head falling back on the couch.


"Togata." Sir's clear voice cuts through his haze once again and he blinks, spine straightening.




"No latex allergies?"


"Nope! No allergies of any kind." Mirio smiles dizzily, hot all over. His hero outfit is so damn tight he feels squeezed.


The snap of a glove draws his attention, he turns his head just in time to catch Sir snapping on a second. Mirio's mouth is suddenly extremely dry. Some people think Bubble Girl is the distracting one in the Nighteye office, but those people must have never truly seen Sir in action. His precise, confident movements, his long limbs and bony fingers, the wry tilt of his thin lips as he sees Mirio ogling him.


"Holding up, Togata?" Sir crosses the room back over to the couch.


Mirio nods, can't help the smile on his face from stretching into a grin. "Way, way up, Sir." He shakily salutes as Sir clucks his tongue at him.


"I see. Strip down if you will."


Mirio's hero suit is fairly new, and he's still not used to having to manually remove clothing, so it takes him longer than he prefers to get undressed. He still burns, but the relief of cool air on his skin is immediate.


"Where do you want me?" 


"Here for now. Just sit back, spread your legs."


"I don't wanna um- make a mess on your couch." Mirio laughs gently, spreads his legs nonetheless. Either comfortable with his nudity or too affected to be concerned, he holds the backs of his thighs, leaning back into Sir's couch.


"Messes can be cleaned." Sir responds simply, rubbing two slick fingers down between Mirio's cheeks. His other gloved hand wraps loosely around Mirio's cock, also slicked nicely. One finger pushes in when he starts to stroke. Mirio shudders, moans, pulls his legs apart further for Sir.




Warm and slick, Sir's long fingers push in, pull him apart, rubbing and curling. Soon he's got Mirio shaking, gasping, writhing, head tipping back towards the ceiling. Mirio never imagined taking it up the butt could feel so good. But this is it, here it is, this is why people love it. Sir is massaging something inside of him that feels incredible, near constant moans spilling from his lips. He's tried fingering himself before, a couple times actually, but it had never felt like this


"Don't concern yourself with volume, understood?" Sir had said about noise, which Mirio is pretty sure means be as loud as you want. So he doesn't care, doesn't limit himself, doesn't think at all, letting loose all kinds of whimpers and "Oh"s and mangled "Sir"s. 


It's easy, when you trust someone this much. Mirio lets go, allows Sir to take care of it, take care of him, take care of everything. Mirio is left to simply feel and react. 


When he comes, violently and all over the planes of his stomach, Sir continues to massage it out of him from the inside, fingers twisting and pumping.




"Good?" Sir removes the gloves afterwards, pushes his glasses up his nose. Mirio marvels at Sir's poker face. Truly, nothing seems to phase the man.


"Yes Sir." Mirio pants, grins, collapses back on the couch. Then. "Thank you, Sir."


He misses the color that brings to Sir's cheeks, staring at one of his surely limited edition All Might posters instead. 


"Do you… say, have you ever done this sort of stuff with All Might?" Mirio asks, curious.


"Know your place, Togata." Sir immediately shuts him down. Yikes, he could feel the chill in the air when Nighteye's voice dropped. Killing it, Mirio.


"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." Mirio smiles apologetically. His brain starts going rapid fire through jokes, but before he can accidentally dig his hole any deeper, a phone goes off. Sir's. His mentor pulls it out and studies the screen for quite some time, reading over something once or twice.


"Actual penetrative sex won't be necessary." He finally states, putting his phone away. "It may be the fastest way to get it out of your system, but it's not the only way. I would like to take you downstairs, if I have your permission?"


"Yes Sir!" Mirio beams.



Permission to be taken downstairs apparently includes a blindfold and holding on to the back of Sir's suit jacket as he is led around. So secretive. The moment Sir announces the last step and Mirio sets foot into the basement, he cracks.


"I knew you had a sex dungeon." Mirio whispers in a rapid uncontrollable burst, laughing loudly when Sir lets go of his hand in order to give him a swat on the behind. (Oh now he knows it's true.)


"Quiet, Togata. I'm corrupting you enough for one night, you don't need to see it all." Sir mutters quickly, leading Mirio into another room before shutting the door. When he removes the blindfold, the first thing Mirio notices is that Sir's ears are brilliantly red. The second thing he notices is the main event of the small room- some sort of machine with a dildo attached to it, in front of what looks like an examination table with stirrups.


"Are you gonna strap me into that thing?" Mirio's enthusiasm might be inappropriate, sure. He's just so …interested. And excited. Did Sir build this himself? 


"The straps won't be necessary, I hardly think you'll want to be anywhere else." Sir mumbles.


"…can you though? I kinda wanna know how it feels, looks fun." Honest. Too honest?


Sir's ears burn as he pushes up his glasses. Could they really be slipping down that often? Mirio doesn't think so.


"Hop up then." Sir mutters finally, moving to snap on another pair of latex gloves as Mirio does, resting his feet against the designated holds. Sir straps him in place, around each ankle, then right below the knee, then finally a thick belt around his waist. There are cuffs above Mirio's head but Nighteye doesn't even spare those a glance.



Mirio audibly moans as Sir lubes up the machine, giving the thing a quick, slick handjob right inbetween his strapped and spread legs. The lewd show is over much too soon, and then Nighteye stands in front of him, fingers pressed together.


"…this is not a scene and I have no expectations." He begins. Mirio isn't quite sure what he means. "There are no safewords, so you say anything akin to 'stop' and I'll stop. You can also tell me to slow down or tap out with your quirk at any time, understood Togata?" 


"Yes, Sir." Is this the type of stuff Sir Nighteye does on weekends? Awesome.


Sir eyes him suspiciously before fingering him open once more, using three and even four curling, scissoring digits. Then he lines up the dildo, pushing it in easy as Mirio's thighs quake. Sir checks something in the front and on the side of the thing while Mirio's hips try to push back, wiggling  impatiently. Then Sir turns it on and it pushes all the way inside of him in one smooth, slow glide before pulling out a few inches- and repeating. 


Honestly, Mirio doesn't remember much of what immediately follows. Sir must turn the thing up, slowly, because it begins to fuck him at a solid pace. It satisfies a deep ache within him, fulfills a need Mirio couldn't identify until now. He arches and thrashes and moans, strapped firmly in place, unable to even push back as his body is plundered.

(Sir is always asking his team to give him their all. Mirio's never been put in Tickle Hell, but he's sure to prove his set of lungs to Sir here.)


Mirio wails through his fourth orgasm of the night, shouts through his fifth, and sobs through his sixth. Not once does he utter anything related to "stop". Sir shuts off the machine nevertheless, undoing the straps one by one as Mirio gasps and shudders and rubs at his eyes.


The entire experience is thrillingly adult, like the time he and Tamaki raided his dad's liquor cabinet when they were fifteen. Only back then they had only taken sips, making faces at the taste. This experience is like chugging an entire bottle and Mirio doesn't know how he's going to go back. His body buzzes. His fantasies are going to be four times as explicit as they used to be, he has enough fuel for years now, probably.



Mirio's trembles after Sir unfastens him completely, a lazy river of exhaustion flowing from his core.


"Oh my god- oh my god-" He grins shakily, stretches.




"So adequate. So good- oh my god I can't believe-" Rubbing his face with both hands, Mirio sits up, feeling calmer than he has all night.


"Listen, I really appreciate you doing this for me." He rubs the back of his neck, contemplative. "I can't imagine what would have happened if aH-HA HAHA-HEY!" Sir Nighteye rudely interrupts him by digging his fingers into Mirio's sides, tickling mercilessly.


"Don't be so serious, Togata, it doesn't suit you well." Sir states over the bursts of laughter his fingers wring from Mirio. A soft smile curls his thin lips as he pulls away, pushing up his glasses. Sir probably does that to hide his face, Mirio realizes, but it's hard to miss the pink dusting his cheeks. And is that...?



Oh yes.




Sir's first erection of the night.


"Can I help?" Mirio immediately asks, any and all bashfulness about the situation having been pounded out of him at least thirty minutes ago.


"Absolutely not." Is Sir's immediate answer. Unsurprising, but Mirio isn't deterred. 


"You can tickle me again if you want." He tries, and- there it is. The gleam in Sir's eye, the flush in his cheeks, how could Mirio have forgotten. Sir's thing™.


Sir Nighteye looks at him for what feels like a long time before making a decision. Is he questioning Mirio's motives? His dedication? How quiet he would keep about the whole thing? Whatever it is Mirio doesn't mind. He's pretty good at staring contests. Sir pushes his glasses up and holds them there, this time definitely hiding his face.


"…May I strap you back down and proceed that way?"


Weird. Mirio grins, hops back up on the exam table. Of course his answer is yes. Mirio likes weird. 



Nighteye straps him in- fully this time- arms stretched loosely above his head, thick leather cuffs wrapping around his wrists, his ankles, his calves, his hips. He could easily phase out of them at any time. He absolutely wouldn't though- he agreed to this, and Mirio wants to do something nice for Sir. But he could. He reminds himself of this in order to calm his frenzied heartbeat. Anticipation tremors from his spine to his toes.


"I've had…" Sir stands to Mirio's left, tall and imposing. No gloves this time. "…theories. About your ticklish spots." He curves a finger up the arch of Mirio's foot, causing a cackle to bubble past his lips.


"Shall we test them?"


Sir's voice is flat, but that gleam in his eyes is still there. Perfectly in his element. He begins slowly, fingers light and tracing behind Mirio's knees. Mirio pretty much knows he's doomed because he has the giggles already. Sir's straps- he gets it now- are going to make it easy to twist and turn his torso away from the torture, but keep him ultimately in place. And as Sir's fingers dance up his sides and giggles give way to snickers, Mirio bends away from the touch, starts to find out just how much leeway he has. 


It's not much.


Then Sir gets going. And when Sir gets going, Sir is relentless, his blunt fingertips digging and skimming and scratching. Mirio tries to twist one way and then the other, straining against the restraints, howling with laughter. Sir's fingers follow him, determined, as he twists and laughs and gasps for air. 


Mirio can hardly belive how quickly his mind goes on red alert, just from something as innocuous as tickling. He's laughing so hard he's dizzy.


Sir keeps going and going and going, attacking from different angles, pinching and prodding at various parts of his body. He attacks his weak points until Mirio can't take a breath at all, tears streaming down his cheeks. His sides ache, his body shakes, chest convulsing with laughter as he twists and arcs under Sir's ministrations. Mirio actually considers tapping out before he pukes or something, but then, all at once, Sir's hands leave him. Mirio gulps down air desperately, cheeks aching as he catches his breath. Then he feels something warm and wet hit his chest, slide down between his pecs. He opens his eyes just in time to catch Sir pumping himself, hand flying over his cock, painting hot stripes of cum across Mirio's chest. Mirio's laughter gives way to soft moans.


"Awesome." He breathes, can't help the giggles as Sir tucks himself away. Delirious, Mirio attempts to wipe his eyes with his biceps as he slowly returns to earth. He feels incredibly lightheaded, but also just- lighter, another weight having been forcibly removed off his chest. 


"Togata. Thank you." Sir looks embarrassed, which is delightful. Mirio tries to pull together a cohesive response but all efforts are abandoned when Sir leans down and sucks in the entire length of Mirio's half interested cock down to the hilt. 


"Ohhh-" He moans as the rest of his tension bleeds from his body. Sir hollows his cheeks, which  wrings a shudder from Mirio's spine as his dick fills out the rest of the way, brushing against the back of Sir's throat. Still strapped down, Mirio can't push his hips up, can't thrust or touch Sir at all when the man starts up a languid pace, tongue lapping at the tip. It's an incredible sensation, a warm, liquid velvet massage. His vision goes hazy as his eyes cross. When Mirio orgasms for the ninth time that night, he's sure he's long since empty but Sir swallows anyways, throat working rhythmically around the ridge of his cock. He gasps and whimpers and shakes apart, oversensitive and thoroughly exhausted.



 Mirio passes out without a care in the world, and a "Thank you Sir-" on his lips.