MHA smut

circumbinary orbit

Written by: saigen

Summary:

"Oh, I know!" Hadou looks inordinately pleased with herself, eyes sparkling, words too loud for the classroom where anyone can, and does, overhear them. "It's a hickey, right? It's gotta be from Toogata!"

People are looking at them. Tamaki puts all his effort into sinking further into his chair, but unfortunately, he was born with his own quirk and not Mirio's, and he must only occupy the space above it.

"Hey, Amajiki, hey," Hadou says. "Are you sleeping with Toogata?"

Or, how Tamaki ends up having a threesome with his two best friends.

______________________________

"Hey, hey, Amajiki, did you know?"

Tamaki's ever-present sense of forboding spikes at the sound of his name. He turns in his seat, and Hadou, as always, is right there.

"What?" he asks. Queasy.

"Right here!" she says. She points to his neck. "You have a big purple mark! So mysterious. How'd you get it?"

Tamaki's hand flies to his neck and claps down over it. He tries to tug his collar up, tries to melt into himself, tries to will himself to die where he sits. He can feel the eyes of his classmates seated nearby swing towards him and bore white-hot holes into him, can feel the weight of Hadou's words on his shoulders. She doesn't mean any harm. Hadou is a good person, a person he can trust, but—

"Oh, I know!" Hadou looks inordinately pleased with herself, eyes sparkling, words too loud for the classroom where anyone can, and does, overhear them. "It's a hickey, right? It's gotta be from Toogata!"

People are looking at them. Tamaki puts all his effort into sinking further into his chair, but unfortunately, he was born with his own quirk and not Mirio's, and he must only occupy the space above it.

"Hey, Amajiki, hey," Hadou says. "Are you sleeping with Toogata?"

The floodgates open.

It's not as though it was ever a secret that Tamaki and Mirio are dating. No, not dating. That word doesn't really encompass the nature of their relationship. Tamaki doesn't think they've ever actually been on anything he would qualify as a date, which may be a prerequisite for dating someone. They just spend time together. He's Mirio's boyfriend, but he's also Mirio's best friend, and those two terms are interchangeable for him, neither holding more weight or importance than the other. They're happiest in each other's company. They know everything about each other. They hold hands and they cuddle while watching movies and they kiss and, yes , Hadou-san, they're sleeping together.

This isn't news. It's not a recent development. It's mundane. If there's a person among the student body or the staff who doesn't know, they would probably shrug uninterestedly if they heard about it. Like most things in Tamaki's life, he imagines everyone else would regard it as unremarkable, not newsworthy, even though to him it's a part of himself as nonnegotiably necessary as breathing oxygen.

He's not really sure why Hadou picked now, or what sparked her interest in the first place. Maybe it really was that one visible love bite that got her gears turning, that caught her attention enough to make her really start thinking about it. But she's already had years of exposure to the invariable constant that is Mirio and Tamaki's relationship. If Mirio has left one purple spot on Tamaki, he's left a thousand.

Though admittedly, Tamaki is usually better at hiding them. And maybe that's the reason for the change. She had just been waiting for an opportunity to delve into a previously tacit topic. Because once the questions start coming, they don't stop.

"Hey, Amajiki," Hadou says. Her hand fists in the back of his uniform jacket and gives it a tug. When he turns to look at her, she's staring up at him with those big, bright eyes. "How long have you and Toogata been together?"

Tamaki glances over at Eri in alarm, but she seems oblivious to the conversation, humming softly to herself and kicking her feet against her chair legs as she colors in a notebook. Not that she can't know about Mirio and Tamaki. He'd be surprised if she hasn't already taken notice. But he feels like he has his hands full already with the look that Hadou is giving him, and he doesn't need to be asked invasive questions by a seven-year-old too.

He slides his attention back to Hadou. She's sitting very close to him on the floor, helping him break down a board game they'd been playing with Eri just a few minutes ago. Or she had been helping him, before she'd stopped slotting the cards back into their spot in the box to lean in for her gentle interrogation.

"A little while," Tamaki replies. Evasively, but not entirely on purpose.

Not even he knows how long it's been, really. Long enough that it's one of the basic truths of Tamaki's life, the foundation that everything he is is built on. Part of him knows that it's not entirely healthy to form so much of your identity around another person, but even if he doesn't have a lot of confidence in most things, one thing he does have is that Mirio will still be beside him tomorrow and every other day of his life.

"Who confessed first?" Hadou asks. "Was it dramatic? Were you nervous? Was it in middle school?"

"No one really...confessed...," Tamaki says, but Hadou's hand is tugging at his uniform again as though she doesn't already have his full attention.

From anyone else, this onslaught of words and physical contact would be like a sourness in his stomach or a grip around his lungs. From Hadou it's friendship. One that doesn't usually make Tamaki feel seasick, which is significant, because the vast majority of his interpersonal interactions do.

"I know, it was love at first sight, right?" she says. "I remember the story! You were new at school and he came to talk to you."

Tamaki feels himself flush at her phrasing. Love at first sight seems like an overly romantic way to put it when it felt more like a shift in his entire reality, like a change in the laws of physics, but she's not wrong. They had instantly fit into place together like two sides of a buckle sliding home and locking together, or a positively-charged magnet finding its negative. Tamaki had felt it from the moment he'd looked up into Mirio's eager, smiling face, and he's never paused once to question it. Has never wanted to or needed to, and doesn't think he ever will.

"Yeah," he replies, keeping it short. He knows if he starts talking about Mirio, he'll only get picked on more. Hadou in particular seems to be a little more merciless, if unintentionally, than others about the gleam he gets in his eye when the topic comes up, but of course he's less sensitive with her when it comes to these sorts of things too. "He was shining."

"Shining," she repeats, her hand flattening out against his back. It feels warm there. "You always say that about everyone, even though they're just people! Mysterious...."

She seems to have lost her train of thought, shifting away from probing into Tamaki's uninteresting love life as she looks out across Eri's room. But of course, Tamaki, being his own worst enemy, opens his mouth and brings her back.

"Mirio shines most of all, though."

Her attention returns to him, eyes sparkling, smiling mouth betraying her amusement, her expression like she knows something he doesn't. She obviously doesn't, though, because if she did, she would say it, pink lips and tongue curling eagerly around the words said in her cheerful, tambourine voice.

Hadou shines too. A little differently from Mirio, but bright and scintillating nonetheless. With her beaming smile, her clear eyes on him like a spotlight, he should feel uncomfortable, but Hadou's attention doesn't make his stomach churn anymore. It just makes him warm. He's grateful for her friendship.

"What," he finally says, when she continues smiling at him.

"You shine too," she replies. "Did you know that?"

Tamaki opens his mouth to respond, but before he can she's using his shoulder as leverage to push herself to her feet, calling for Eri's attention with her glowing smile.

If Mirio is the Sun, Hadou is a star.

That doesn't mean she's any less bright. She's a sun in her own right. She might not be the center of Tamaki's entire solar system the way Mirio is, but she has just as much gravitational pull. She's just more distant. She hasn't been around for as long or as significantly as Mirio has, but Tamaki admires how she shines anyway.

Hadou has always been one of his friendlier classmates. She has a special knack for taking every single inch you give, which made Tamaki very nervous in the beginning, until he realized that she served almost as a perfect counterpoint to him. Whenever Tamaki was uneasy and reserved, hanging back, Hadou was there to reach out, to take the step towards him in his place. She didn't know boundaries or comprehend his anxiety, and somehow that made her perfectly primed for friendship with him. Where other people might politely respect his discomfort, she powered through it.

Though now he doesn't know when it happened that they became so close . Was it before or after she'd told him that they were gaining the attention of the school as the strongest in their class? Had they been given the "Big 3" title yet? Have they been hanging out since their first year? He still doesn't understand what he possibly could have done to draw the interest of one of the brightest people in the school, not when he is the way he is. But regardless, it's somehow happened that her presence at his side, or rather him at hers, is almost as predictable as Tamaki at Mirio's.

Relationships have a funny way of changing on you before you can notice it even happening, Tamaki thinks.

Just like his relationship with Mirio. He's not sure when that changed either. One day they were just two kids playing tag on the playground and the next day they were making out on Tamaki's bed when his parents weren't home. Some things change suddenly, dramatically, and leave life completely different in their wake, like Mirio losing his quirk, or like meeting Mirio in the first place. But these strange, important relationships in Tamaki's life have never been like that.

Some days he wonders if Hadou's gravitational pull is dragging him in just as Mirio's did. It's not just that she's been a steadfast friend for the past few years. It is that, too, but Hadou is a lot. She's so much. Slowly, she's become a part of Tamaki's life in a way that he didn't expect but has come to rely on. He admires her. He enjoys spending time with her. He likes her.

But sometimes she has a way of finding Tamaki's weak spots and tearing them wide open.

Nights the three of them aren't with Eri, they're usually at a table tucked into the corner of 3-A's dorm lounge. It's secluded enough that they can get some homework done, and Tamaki appreciates the spot for how infrequently other people turn their attention on him. Of course, that might have something to do with how Mirio's broad shoulders block him from the view of most of the room, and how anyone in their right mind would probably want to look at Hadou rather than him, anyway.

Tamaki feels safe here. Usually. But Hadou's been on a roll recently and—

"Hey, Toogata," Hadou says. "Have you ever been with a girl before?"

"Nope!" Mirio replies cheerfully. "I've only ever been with Tamaki."

Slowly, Tamaki lets his burning face droop towards his notebook. He presses his cheek into the ruled paper and prays that soon he will be swallowed by the Earth beneath his feet. This conversation is already going places that he doesn't like.

"Is Amajiki any good? Does he usually bottom?" Hadou asks, and then before Mirio can answer or Tamaki can get up and leave, she says, "Hey, what about you, Amajiki? Have you ever been with a girl before?"

Maybe if Tamaki closes his eyes hard enough, he can make everything around him disappear. If he can't see them then they can't see him, right? Talking about sex with Mirio is hard enough. Talking about sex with a girl is...impossible.

"He hasn't," Mirio says in a stage whisper. "I was his first too."

Tamaki doesn't know where she's going with this. Isn't sure that he wants to. It's somehow worse that it's someone as dazzling as Hadou asking these questions, someone as incredible as Mirio hearing them and replying, even if they are the two people he feels most comfortable around.

"Can we not talk about this?" he says, but his voice is muffled into the paper and it comes out all weak and raspy, which is about how he feels right now.

"Hey, Amajiki, do you even like girls?" Hadou asks.

With his eyes closed and his forehead pressed to his book he can't see her, but he can imagine her huge blue eyes on him, her inquisitive expression, the swoop of her soft, glossy hair, her rosy cheeks.

"Y-yes," he says quietly.

"Oh, that's called being bisexual. Did you know that?" Hadou says. "Or maybe pansexual. We have that in common, Amajiki!"

There's only the slightest pause before she's talking again.

"What about you, Toogata?"

Mirio laughs, almost nervously.

"I don't know," he says, sounding sheepish. "I've never thought about it. I've always just liked Tamaki."

Despite himself, Tamaki feels a warm glow ignite in his stomach. It spreads up into his lungs and expands to fill his chest. He loves Mirio so much it's hard to breathe sometimes.

"Hm, how strange," Hadou says, sounding deeply thoughtful.

When Tamaki raises his face just an inch off the page to look up at his friends, he catches Hadou looking at Mirio like he's a riddle she just needs to think a little harder about to find the answer. Mirio, of course, smiles back with his typical sunny grin. Tamaki isn't usually one for PDA, preferring to do whatever it takes to keep people from talking to or about him, but just this once he feels the urge. His hand reaches out and lands somewhere on Mirio's thick thigh, and Mirio, without skipping a beat, places his own hand over it.

It's warm and it's comforting, and it quells the tiny itch in the back of Tamaki's mind. No matter what questions Hadou asks them or the answers they give, they're a team. No matter how uncomfortable Tamaki gets, they're always in this together.

Not that they're against Hadou. She's their friend, and Tamaki knows that her curiosity gets the better of her in every situation. He shouldn't be bothered by any of these questions, he knows. She thinks things and then they come out of her mouth without thinking of how they could affect others. And none of these answers change anything about his relationship with Mirio. It's not like her desire to know things about them, both separately and together, have any bearing on either of their feelings for each other.

But, Tamaki thinks, putting his head against the desk again and giving Mirio's hand a squeeze, it doesn't feel like this is going to be the end of this.

It isn't.

They're walking across campus to the dorms from their last class of the day, Hadou talking about the mountain of studying they have to do, when she releases her most unexpected question yet on poor, defenseless Tamaki.

"Hey, hey, have you ever thought about having a threesome?" she asks, voice innocent as if she was asking Tamaki if he'd cracked open his textbook to start Present Mic's homework assignment yet.

It catches Tamaki so off-guard he stumbles a little in his steps and then comes to a complete stop. She stops with him, smiling, waiting for an answer, face clear of any embarrassment. It's almost enough to make Tamaki wonder if he misheard her, but this is Hadou. She would just come out and ask him something like that.

No , Tamaki wants to say.

I haven't , Tamaki wants to say.

"I-I don't know if...Mirio...."

"If I what?"

Oh no.

Tamaki turns with a sick lurch of his stomach to see Mirio's grinning face only inches from his own. He jolts back in surprise.

Normally, he's more than happy to see Mirio. Overjoyed, in fact. But this is one conversation that he, or both of them, really, don't need to be a part of. Tamaki drops his gaze to the ground and shuffles half a step away from him.

"Hey, Toogata!" Hadou says, and Tamaki doesn't have the strength to stop her. "What about you? Have you ever thought about having a threesome?"

Mirio hums thoughtfully, bringing a hand up to rub at his chin. His expression doesn't waver from its usual smile, which Tamaki admires him endlessly for. It also makes him wonder if there's something deeper going on behind it, but knowing Mirio, anything negative is being healthily redirected into optimism.

"I haven't really," he says. "It's never come up before."

"Huh, amazing!" Hadou says. Like there's something strange and wonderful about being faithful to your boyfriend, even just in your thoughts and conversations.

Maybe there is, Tamaki thinks with a twist of guilt in his gut. It's just another way Mirio outshines everyone around him. It's just another way Tamaki can't ever be good enough.

"I think I'd have to hear what Tamaki had to say about it," Mirio goes on.

And just like that, both of their attention turns once again to Tamaki.

Four bright eyes like spotlights, Tamaki feels like he's been shoved out onto center stage in a play he's never even heard of. That's probably not a good feeling for most people, but for Tamaki, he thinks he might wither away and die, right here. It doesn't matter that these are his two closest friends. This conversation is more than he would ever want to have with anyone .

Any good boyfriend, he thinks, would probably respond to that question just as Mirio did.

But Tamaki doesn't have anything to say other than a low, embarrassed, "I-I don't know."

Mirio blinks at him, expression soft, like he's patiently waiting for Tamaki to expand on that. Hadou looks between them with wide, curious eyes, as if she didn't start this whole thing in the first place. They both just keep looking at him, and he doesn't know what to say, so he does what he's best at.

"I'm going home," Tamaki says, heaving a sigh and shuffling away towards the dorms, leaving Mirio and Hadou to catch up.

Tamaki's not stupid. He might not have it totally together when it comes to other people. Or even a little bit. But he's not stupid. He knows when a question isn't just a question, or when a series of questions seems to be leading to something else.

The problem is, he doesn't know what to do about it.

Tucked behind the lamp on Tamaki's bedside table, there's a picture of the three of them. It's not the only one, far from the only one, as an outing with Hadou is never finished without a stop at a Purikura booth. But it might be Tamaki's favorite. Haya had taken it for them on the day of the School Festival, as evidenced by the crown that sits a little lopsided on Hadou's perfectly silky hair. She's tucked tight between Mirio and Tamaki, her shoulders bearing the weight of one of Mirio's arms, clutching her proudly. Tamaki is pressed to her other side, his arm around her waist, her head tipped against his shoulder mid-laugh. Her eyes are shining, and Mirio's smiling wide, and even the corners of Tamaki's mouth are upturned.

He's not looking at the camera, though. He's looking at Hadou.

She's always striking. Mouthwateringly pleasing to look at. Her hair is soft and her eyelashes are long and the curve of her cheek like a ripe fruit. Everyone knows Hadou is beautiful. That's why she won that day.

Tamaki, too, knows that Hadou is beautiful, and it's a heavy truth in his chest.

"Tamaki," Mirio says. "You know if you want to, it's okay, right?"

Tamaki freezes, his lips half-parted from where he was about to kiss Mirio again. They'd been sitting on the floor of his dorm room doing homework before Mirio's big hand covered his own, then slowly snaked its way around his waist to pull him in. Their mouths had met, slow, casual, not a means to an end but something to enjoy in and of itself, when Mirio had broken away to speak those words.

"Want to what?" he asks, feeling a little breathless from the kisses. Mirio always makes him feel that way. Like he can't get enough air, sometimes, but unlike all the other times in his daily life when it's bad, this feels good.

Mirio's hand is warm on his where their fingers have tangled together on the floor. It's broad and a little rough from years of fighting and training but it feels right against his own, calming. It reminds him that no matter what, Mirio is on his side.

"Do this sort of thing," Mirio says, smiling softly, encouragingly, not completely outside of his space. "With Hadou-san."

Tamaki feels his face flush before he's even properly registered the words. It comes as an intense heat blooming under his skin, burning through his cheeks and his ears and his chest as it occurs to him what Mirio is trying to say.

Him. And Hadou. Together. Kissing.

"I—," he says, and it's the only word he can manage to form his tongue around.

"But!" Mirio says, pulling back a little bit, still grinning. "I want to be there too."

It's a little bit like he's drowning, like Tamaki has stepped into water that's far deeper than he is tall and he can't kick to the surface. That's the overwhelmed feeling in his chest right now.

"I thought—" he starts, because it's the only coherent concept he can parse, "I thought that was a given."

"Given or not, I wanted to say it, okay?" Mirio replies.

He's smiling. He's still smiling in that way that he has like everything in Tamaki isn't falling apart, like everything isn't changing and like he didn't just say something that shattered Tamaki's understanding of the world around them. Somehow, Mirio can smile through anything, and while that's something that's both always bewildered Tamaki as well as sparked admiration in him, he can't understand this.

Forget that. He can't even wrap his head around the idea of Hadou being here too, for this stuff. Of course he's thought about it, given some of their recent conversation topics. But he'd never lent it serious weight. Not when everything, everything in his life revolves around Mirio. Him and Mirio, together. Even if they'd never really talked about it, his assumption was that they were monogamous—that it was just the two of them together, always. That Mirio would be disappointed to learn that Tamaki had even a glancing thought about someone else. He would never even consider touching someone else without Mirio's express permission.

But this—

This almost sounds like Mirio's express permission.

Mirio laughs and ducks his head under Tamaki's baffled stare.

"You do want to, right?" Mirio says. "I didn't misinterpret that, did I?"

The direct questioning hits Tamaki right in the throat. He turns inward, and realizes that as much as he wants to hide his face against the musky fabric of Mirio's shirt right now, this is one of those situations he has to face head-on. He forces his chin to stay up despite the constantly-increasing weight of his body.

There isn't really something he can say to explain himself to Mirio, to explain all the things whirlpooling in his head right now.

"She looks—"

Tamaki bites off his words, a rush of embarrassment gathering in his throat.

"Hm?" Mirio says, leaning closer. So close that Tamaki can see the individual flecks of blue in his eyes. "She looks what? You can tell me."

It's almost harder with Mirio staring him right in the face, and Tamaki can't help lowering his eyes. He's conscious of his heart pounding in his chest, pumping blood all through his body. He swallows and it sounds overloud, and he can feel the earnestness radiating off of Mirio like rays from the sun.

"She looks so soft, Mirio," Tamaki says, the words coming out low and strained.

Mirio laughs.

Tamaki feels the cold chill of embarrassment weave up his spine, but laughter isn't the worst reaction he could've gotten.

"Yeah, she does, doesn't she?" Mirio says.

It's then that Tamaki lets himself give up a little bit. His head lands against Mirio's shoulder, his face nestled into the side of his neck. One of his hands fists in Mirio's shirt, clinging to him with all the heavy feelings that are smashing around the inside of his brain. Mirio's arm comes up around his shoulders, warm and tender as always, pulling him tight against him, and his other hand cups the side of his face, his thumb running over his cheek comfortingly.

"We should tell her, then," Mirio says. "I think she's looking forward to it!"

Every single day of his life, Tamaki is grateful for this. Grateful for Mirio. For his existence in his life.

"I love you," Tamaki says, the words spilling out from his mouth before he can stop them.

Mirio's lips are warm and sweet on his forehead when they press there, instantly quelling all of the anxieties that riot in Tamaki's head.

"I love you too," he says, and Tamaki can hear the smile in his voice.

This time, it's Tamaki with the question.

It's difficult. This kind of thing. Tamaki imagines it must be difficult for anybody, but it's most difficult for him.

She wants to hear it, earlier words from Mirio ring in his head. Probably from you! You've got this, Tamaki .

It's the only thing keeping him together right now.

Hadou and Tamaki are both early risers on school days—one doesn't just happen to end up in the Big Three without a few pre-dawn training sessions—and so when he catches her alone on the couch in the dorm lounge illuminated by the sunrise filtering in through the windows, he knows this is a good opportunity. It's unlikely anyone else will wander into the common area at this hour to witness the mortifying conversation he's about to have, but regardless his shoulders are so tense they're practically up around his ears.

She must hear him coming because she looks up from the book open across her bare thighs. Either she's on her way to the gym or she's just come back, as she's dressed only in a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt. Her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail that reveals the curves of her ears and the pale side of her neck. She glows in the yellow morning sunbeams, and her face lights up when she sees him.

"Good morning, Amajiki!" she greets him, sunshine and excitement, like she hadn't just seen him at dinner the night before. "Listen, did you know it's going to be 60 degrees today? It's barely March! Isn't that weird?"

"That's great," Tamaki says, and he knows it comes out like he doesn't think it's great, because his stomach hurts. All he can really focus on right now is what he has to say to her, so when he sits beside her on the couch, he wraps his arms around himself.

"Hm?" she says, tilting her head, seeming to instantly recognize the expression on his face as more anxious than usual. "What's wrong?"

Tamaki takes a deep breath.

"Hadou-san," he starts, voice quiet, faltering already. "Do you.... I mean, me and Mirio, we—"

She's looking at him. Her eyes are so big, framed by her thick eyelashes. Tamaki distinctly remembers thinking of her as pure and innocent, but he's since heard some of the questions she's directed towards him and Mirio. She looks the part, undeniably cute with her round eyes and pure, clean skin, even acts it in the way that she talks about such things, curious and open and casual. Now that he's allowed it— Mirio's allowed it—to take roost there, the explosive thought of being able to explore something so pure fills Tamaki's mind.

He feels his face get warm and averts his eyes.

"What is it?" she asks him, ducking into his line of sight, her mouth drawn into a curious frown. She's so cute it makes his eyes hurt. Selfishly, he wants to put his arms around her. Not in a weird way. He just likes her. He likes her, so he wants to hold her.

"We were wondering," he says, head downturned, eyes focused resolutely on the whorls and knots in the hardwood floor. "Do you want to—" He pauses, bites his lip. "With us...sometime...."

He trails off and leaves it there, even though he knows he's done a shit job of communicating his point, once again. What kind of person can't even ask a simple question like this? Why can't he get it together? He feels sick.

He's in the middle of internally debating trying one more time or just getting up and leaving and never attempting to broach this topic again when Hadou leans closer to him.

"Oh, I know what you're asking!" she says, and her voice is so full of a thrilled eagerness that it nearly knocks the nervous dizziness right out of Tamaki's head. "You want to know if I'll have sex with you and Toogata!"

Her blunt wording hits Tamaki with the force of a villain's fist. He almost can't believe that she saw through him that quickly, but this is Hadou, after all. After Mirio, if there's anyone who knows him, it's her.

He looks up at her, and she's absolutely beaming, bright and shining as the sun.

Tamaki spends most of his Saturday afternoon helping Eri study basic kanji, and by the time Eraserhead comes in and lets him know he'll watch her for the rest of the evening, the daylight is turning tawny. He wonders absently what Mirio is up to as he makes his way back to his dorm room. He figures they might grab dinner together later. Maybe they'll spend the night in, curled up watching a movie in one of their beds.

Just the idea of that lifts Tamaki's mood. It's crazy how even after all these years, Mirio still makes him feel this way. Or maybe it's because of all the years.

He'll text him once he gets up to his room, he decides. But as soon as he gets up there and opens his door, he realizes he won't even get the chance.

Mirio's already in his room. And he's not alone.

Seated on the edge of Tamaki's bed, Mirio and Hadou are angled towards each other. They're sitting close enough that if Mirio swayed just an inch or two to his left he'd knock against her shoulder, but despite the proximity, they're not touching. They're both talking in low, sweet, happy voices, pitched for each other. Smiling. A pair of scintillating human beings, exquisite in every way, in Tamaki's room, on Tamaki's bed.

Tamaki shuts the door behind him. He lets his backpack slide off his shoulders and onto the floor, where it lands with a dull thud . He leans back against the closed door, shoulders hunching forward, following his instinctive urges to put as much space between himself and the beautiful, intimidating vision in front of him as he can. His heart rate spikes as they look up at him.

"Tamaki!" Mirio says happily. His hair is unstyled, casual and shaggy around his ears. "Welcome home."

Hadou brightens as she looks at him too. "Amajiki! How was your day? Were you expecting us? Listen, Amajiki, Toogata said he has a copy of your key. That's how we got in here! How romantic...."

Taking a deep breath, Tamaki eyes them warily. These are the two people he generally feels least anxious around, but given the circumstances, given how they're both looking at him right now, his heart is still beating faster, just a little bit.

"Why are you guys here?" he manages to croak out.

Like it's his own bed instead of Tamaki's, though it might as well be given how often he sleeps there, Mirio pats the space beside him in invitation. His eyes are bright, expectant, as are Hadou's where she watches him. Both of their eyes are so shining, so blue , Tamaki feels like if he looks at either of them too long he might float off helplessly into them like they're the ocean or the sky.

"I wanted to see you!" Mirio says. "Also I was hanging out with Hadou-san and we thought it might be a good idea to talk about things."

Talking. Tamaki feels like he's already had enough anxiety-inducing conversations on this particular topic, but he knows logically that having all three of them gathered here to discuss recent developments is the best way to handle it.

And they're a team, after all. The Big Three. That name may have been given to them by the student body, but it's through his bond forged with Mirio that he got here, and it's brought him a rich friendship with Hadou. It's more than just a label. They're meant to exist together, in this group. The three of them. There's nothing to fear here, because they're all on the same team, always.

Tamaki walks further into the room, and Mirio rises to meet him with slow, gentle steps and open arms, the same way he might if they were alone. With a glance towards Hadou, Tamaki hesitates, but Mirio pulls him against the sturdy wall of his chest just as he always does, folding his arms around him. Their hugs are always intimate like this, close and lingering, which is why Tamaki is unused to having an audience for it. His shoulders feel a little tense, but he guesses Hadou is probably going to see a lot more of them than she usually does at some point in the near future. He needs to get over it.

And honestly, once he thinks of it that way, it's a little easier than he was expecting. When he's wrapped around Tamaki like this, the scent of Mirio's shampoo and laundry detergent is familiar and calming. Mirio is here. Mirio is with him. Nothing can go wrong.

Mirio pulls away, but he keeps one of Tamaki's hands in his own as he leads him back to where Hadou is waiting, watching wide-eyed and eager, on the edge of the bed. Tamaki doesn't sit—he has far too much nervous energy buzzing through his veins for that—but he does lean his hip against Mirio as Mirio takes his spot beside Hadou again.

"I know what you want to talk about," Hadou says, grabbing onto the loose fabric of Mirio's sleeve and tugging on it insistently. "You want to talk about all three of us trying something together, right?"

"Yeah!" Mirio replies. Tamaki doesn't miss how his ears have gone a little pink at the tips. At least it's not just him who feels embarrassed. "You seemed interested and we're all friends, aren't we?"

Friends don't necessarily do this kind of stuff together, Tamaki almost points out. But he gets what Mirio's saying. If they want to, they can, and it doesn't have to be strange because their relationship is trusting and accepting. Hadou and Mirio are two people who kindly reached their hands out to Tamaki when he couldn't pull himself forward and helped guide him. They're friends. They'll still be friends after this.

"Okay, let's do it," Hadou says, and stands up, stretching her arms over her head like she's about to perform a gymnastics routine. For all Tamaki knows, she could be. A brand new strain of fear strikes through him. Hadou could bring any number of unknown factors into what is generally a routine, though good, thing for him.

"Right now?" he asks, quiet and surprised. He stands straighter, squaring up like he might against a sparring partner or a villain.

Mirio laughs, but it's background noise when Tamaki can see Hadou's shirt ride up, exposing a flash of skin above the waistband of her skirt.

"Why?" she asks, head tilted innocently. "Are you busy?"

"No," Tamaki replies, and looks to Mirio. For permission? Support? Encouragement?

But Mirio only gives him a wide grin in response. That's close enough to all of those for Tamaki, so he takes the deepest breath he can to steady himself and looks back to Hadou.

"Okay," he replies, feeling like he's stepping off the edge of a pool directly into the deep end without knowing how to swim. "Okay."

Mirio laughs again, says, "Why not?" and that's that on that. This is going to happen.

But Tamaki still isn't expecting it when Hadou steps forward, into Tamaki's space, and loops her arms around his neck.

Oh . Oh. She is soft. Warm, too. Here, pressed completely to Tamaki's front, he can feel it. The heat she's radiating saturates his clothing. Her body feels different from Mirio's, which should be obvious, but it's not something that ever crossed Tamaki's mind in any concrete, serious way until just now with her chest pressed against his. She's soft. It seems worth reiterating, a hundred thousand times.

He doesn't know what to do with his hands. It's not as though he's unused to Hadou touching him. She doesn't have very many personal boundaries in the first place, always sitting too close or tapping on his shoulder or grabbing onto some part of him. But Tamaki rarely, if ever, reciprocates, only due to his more reserved nature. Even right now, when he probably has permission to touch her just about anywhere he wants, his hands hover, hesitating. He suddenly can't remember what he normally does with his hands when he hugs someone. His stomach twists.

But she's looking up at him, her eyes warm and open, and, scary new situation or not, it's his friend Hadou that he's here with. She might be the most beautiful girl he's ever known, but she seems to also be willingly offering herself up to him, somehow. He lets his hands drop to her hips, and she's warm and soft there too. He can smell her from this close, and her scent gentle and clean and vaguely floral.

"Hey, Amajiki, listen," she says, and her voice is soft, lilting, a toned-down version of its usual boisterous ring. "Will you kiss me?"

Tamaki freezes again.

There's no promise that he'll be good at this. There's a chance he'll mess this up. The only person he's ever kissed in his life is Mirio, who's used to his timid, trepidatious way of doing things. When Mirio asks him to kiss him it's not scary because they've been doing it for so long. Mirio generally leads him through it anyway, and Tamaki doesn't know if he has what it takes to be the one calling the shots in a situation like that.

Instinctively, his eyes find Mirio's over Hadou's head. His expression is bright and clear as always, but there's something a little too attentive in his eyes where they're fixed on the two of them that Tamaki recognizes from between traded kisses and undressing. Mirio's excited, and that makes Tamaki's pulse jump.

When he feels Tamaki's eyes on him, Mirio raises his gaze to meet his. He flashes a smile and a thumbs up.

Well, if it's Mirio-approved. He's being encouraged. With that he can do anything. Tamaki refocuses his attention back on Hadou, and his breath catches in his throat when he sees her blinking up at him with her big, sparkling eyes, the sweep of her eyelashes over them soft and beautiful, her skin so fair and clear.

He wants to kiss her. And there's no reason why he shouldn't. He pushes past the stuttering of his heart and leans down.

She's soft , she's so soft, her lips smooth and giving where he first meets her closed mouth. It's like he expected but also different. It's not the same as kissing Mirio, big strong Mirio, who cradles his face gently and kisses him long and deep and slow until Tamaki's brain shorts out and his legs cease to work. Hadou is smaller, for one, not engulfing in the same way that Mirio is. Tamaki finds that he kind of likes it as he goes in for a second press of their lips, likes the way that he has to bow his head to reach her, how her mouth feels smaller against his.

But she's also eager, and quick. The third time their lips meet she opens up, and then there's her tongue against the seam of his mouth. He lets her in easy, feeling the heat of hers against his own, against the roof of his mouth and his teeth, before she pulls off with a quick nip at his lower lip. It feels nice and leaves him a little bit dizzy, but not as much as when she pulls back to smile at him.

"Let's take some clothes off," she says like it's no big deal, and Tamaki guesses it isn't. They've all seen Mirio naked, so it's not as though suddenly seeing him naked now will be strange. And there have been plenty of times over their years at UA where they've had to change into their hero uniforms on the fly, no shyness permitted. Tamaki would be a liar if he said he's never caught a flash of Hadou's underwear in the process, but admittedly there is a huge difference between someone in your peripherals changing clothes as fast as possible and stripping for the purpose of being naked.

Mirio, though, seems enthusiastic about the idea. He laughs and stands and agrees with an easy, "Sure!" and just as Hadou is turning to face him, he one-handedly tugs his t-shirt up over his head after gripping it from the back.

It's a smooth trick even at the worst of times, but right now, it makes Tamaki's mouth go gummy and dry. Mirio's physique is one of the many, many things Tamaki admires about him. Insecurity flares in him for a second, wondering, like he always does, why someone who looks like this still continues to spend his time loving Tamaki, but it's quickly replaced by embarrassed interest as Hadou begins to unbutton her top. He notices Hadou's eyes have gone narrow like a pleased cat's, her lips curled up at the edges, where her gaze has landed on Mirio's chest.

She shucks off the shirt, and she's left standing there in a bra. It's cute and stiped in white and pink and has lace at the edges and hugs the curves of her ample chest and Tamaki finds himself staring at it, transfixed, for a long moment before remembering himself. He's never really had the chance to see a girl in the flesh in her underwear before, but that doesn't mean he can suddenly become a creep about it. He guiltily tears his eyes away, only to flush deeply when his gaze meets Mirio's, who's smiling at him like he knows all too well what's going on in his head right now.

"Hey, you can touch, you know."

Hadou leans down and grabs Tamaki's hands by the wrists. She pulls them up and, confidently, unhesitatingly, places both squarely on her breasts. Tamaki goes completely still. Wonders if she can tell his fingertips are trembling. Wonders if she knows that as nice as they feel through the fabric of her bra he has no idea what to do from here.

Helplessly, he looks up at Mirio for guidance, but Mirio has swept Hadou's hair to the side with one hand and has the other thoughtfully on his chin. His expression is troubled, and he's staring down at the clasp of Hadou's bra like it's a baffling puzzle.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he admits with a laugh.

Neither does Tamaki, but the amount of confidence with which Mirio dives in to fiddle with the clasp is nothing short of inspiring. Hadou half turns her head as if to check on his progress, but by the time she does, the cups have come loose under Tamaki's touch.

Hadou shakes the bra off her shoulders. Tamaki catches it, pulls it away instinctively, and then is left standing there with her bare breasts before him and her bra in his upturned hands.

He doesn't know what to do with it. Part of him wants to die.

"Hanging in there, Tamaki?" Mirio asks with a grin.

"No," Tamaki replies quickly, feeling a little sick. Mirio and Hadou both laugh.

She's just...there. Her chest bare. Her nipples cute and pink and raised, her skin fair and unblemished. She said he could touch but now he's standing still here, still holding her bra, staring, because he still doesn't know where to go from here.

"You take off your shirt too," Mirio encourages, and before Tamaki is really aware of it happening, Mirio's gently pushing past Hadou to grab at the hem of his shirt, helping tug it over his head. Tamaki drops the bra on the floor in the process, where it rests, forgotten, along with their other discarded clothing.

Now Hadou is looking at him too, not totally unlike the way she was looking at Mirio. It's a little baffling because although Tamaki has spent the past years building his physical strength just like the rest of them, he knows his body doesn't naturally have the same impressive width of Mirio's. But Hadou's fingertips unexpectedly come into contact with his abdomen, feeling along the line of his muscles, before her entire body follows and presses against his again.

Except this time there's nothing between their skin. She's even softer, smooth and warm and giving, and Tamaki suddenly can't breathe . He can feel her chest against his, her feminine form yielding and cushiony against him. He's hard already, just from this, and with the way she's pushed up close to him he knows she has to be able to feel it. He tries to shuffle away, just so she doesn't have to know what she's doing to him without even trying, but she sticks to him like her quirk is glue.

In fact, she keeps coming towards him. He thinks for a second that she's going to kiss him again, but she goes somewhere else with her lips entirely, landing on the side of his neck, just under his jaw. She nips, then sucks, and Tamaki makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat and his hands come up instinctively to grab on. They meet nothing but skin, skin, skin and it's not doing anything for his ability to feel like he can competently navigate this situation.

"Go for his ears!" Mirio says, taking a step closer as if to watch. "He really likes that."

Hadou detaches herself to smile at him. "Oh! I know, it's because they're long and pointy, right?"

"Maybe." Mirio laughs. "I think it's just because he's cute like that."

As this conversation is happening right in front of him, Tamaki feels his face somehow getting hotter. His stomach drops at Hadou's description of his ears— does she think they're weird? —but Mirio saying these kinds of things about him, right in front of him, makes Tamaki feel like his skin might catch on fire.

"I'm right here," he says, low and quiet, in case they've forgotten that he can hear them.

"I can't reach," she says with a pout, ignoring him. "Let's get you on the bed."

She begins guiding him backward, pushing with both hands at his bare chest until he takes steps back towards the bed. Their legs tangle as the back of his knees hit the mattress and they both tumble to the surface, Hadou landing squarely on top of him. It takes his breath away, and not just from the impact. She's light and soft on him, grinning down with exactly the kind of smile that won her the beauty pageant.

That's when she pounces. Tamaki isn't quite prepared for her to go straight for his ear, so when her teeth meet the shell of it he shivers from the base of his skull down to his toes. Mirio wasn't lying. His ears are very sensitive, and Mirio takes full advantage of that whenever he can. But Hadou's movements are different. Not in a bad way. Just different. Her tongue is smaller where it swipes over him, her nips quicker, more playful.

She's moved her weight to the side of him for better access, and he's frozen in place by how much embarrassing effort it's taking him not to let out a few hoarse noises just from her attention on his ear. His hands are still attached to her waist, where she probably feels his fingers flexing subconsciously as the sensations pass through him.

The mattress sags next to them as Mirio sits. He leans in first to press an incongruously chaste kiss to the side of Tamaki's forehead, opposite where Hadou is tonguing at his ear, and then slides his enormous hands down Tamaki's bare torso until he meets the waistband of his pants.

"You're really red," he comments. "Are you feeling okay?"

Tamaki doesn't trust his voice right now, so he nods instead.

"Well," Mirio says, laughing, "you definitely look like you're okay down here!"

If Tamaki wasn't used to Mirio saying anything and everything that popped into his head during sex he would be more embarrassed, but the fact that they have an audience for it now makes him choke on his tongue a little bit. Hadou pays them no mind though, even as Mirio takes a detour to squeeze Tamaki through his pants before returning to the waistband to undo the button and zipper. Tamaki lets a whimper escape, and Hadou giggles quiet but delighted against his ear.

Needing a bit of normalcy, as Mirio pulls Tamaki's pants off of him, underwear and all, Tamaki reaches for him. As if knowing without being told exactly what Tamaki wants, Mirio ducks his head so that Tamaki can thread his fingers through the golden sunlight strands of his hair and pull him down for a brief kiss.

"Take mine off too, Toogata," Hadou says once they break apart. She's eased off of Tamaki's ear a bit, maybe to watch them, or maybe just because she wants to return to Tamaki's neck next. But leaned over him the way she is, she shakes her hips so that there's no question about what she's referring to.

Mirio, helpful as always, happily leans over to obey. He pulls her skirt down far enough that she can easily kick it off, and then, only hesitating for a second, goes back for her panties.

Tamaki immediately becomes hyperaware that he's on his bed. Naked. With a girl. Who is also naked. This shouldn't come as a shock for him, because it feels now like they've been gearing up for this moment for weeks. And it's not as though this is the first time he's ever had sex with anyone, either. Mirio, currently wriggling out of his own pants at his side, can absolutely attest to that.

But this is Hadou. She's a girl. She has different parts than him and he's not entirely sure how they work and that makes him nervous. Sure, he's seen girls in porn before, and maybe he, quite humiliatingly, did more than a little bit of googling on his own in the past few days on what exactly to do in this situation, but facing the reality of this is awkward and embarrassing.

He has considered this, though. What it might be like, and how he can make this good for her while keeping both of them, all three of them, comfortable. Mostly, Tamaki wants to keep the attention off of himself and put it on her, and so, to carry through with his plan, he's going to have to do some rearranging.

"Can you...," he says, but doesn't know how to end that sentence.

So instead he just sits up slowly, dislodging Hadou from his jaw, and then pushes her down until she's laying flat against the mattress. As embarrassed as he feels, something about having her spread out in his grip like this fills Tamaki with a primal kind of adrenaline, a frantic rush of energy that he's wholly unused to feeling. Before it leaves him, he begins sliding down her bare body, backing off the mattress, his fingers tracing lightly over her impossibly smooth skin, until his knees hit the floor and he's settled between her thighs.

"Hey, Amajiki, what are you doing?" she asks, propping herself up on her elbows to follow him with her eyes. It's more pure curiosity than anything else, but part of Tamaki still feels like she's criticizing him.

Luckily he's saved from answering by Mirio, now completely naked, joining Hadou on the bed. His gaze lingers on Tamaki for a moment, his expression pleasant and warm, before he sweeps his eyes up Hadou's body and draws closer to her face.

She notices him, turns towards him, eyes sparkling in excitement. She raises a hand and threads her fingers through his loose hair.

"Hey, hey, Toogata," she says, tightening her fingers in the strands, but not pulling. It's just like the way she'll tap Tamaki on the shoulder to get his attention, even if he's already looking at her. "Can I kiss you?"

Mirio laughs sheepishly in response, cheeks going pink, as though they're not both already in bed naked together. He nods, and then lets her guide him down to meet her.

Tamaki is expecting the brief pang of jealousy he feels when he first sees it. He knows it's coming. He'd spent some time thinking about how Mirio and Hadou are both incredible people, wondering if having them together in this capacity could make them realize they didn't need someone like Tamaki around. But it's instinctive and irrational and nothing more than that. The truth is Tamaki trusts Mirio. Tamaki could never truly doubt him, not even for a second. For as long as Tamaki continues to orbit around Mirio, Mirio will always be his sun. He knows this.

And Hadou—

Well, Hadou isn't his, really, and she's welcome to kiss whoever she wants. Maybe someday he'll gather the courage to change that, but for now, this is how things are.

So Tamaki doesn't dwell on it. He doesn't even give himself the chance. Instead, he enjoys the view. Watching two of his favorite people right in front of him put their mouths on each other sends the sort of desperate thrill through him that he usually feels in response to Mirio's hands on his waist pulling him closer, or Mirio nipping at his ear. They're both very good-looking, nice to look at, and watching them figure out how they fit together, deep and slow, is far from unpleasant.

He enjoys it enough that he almost forgets what he was doing. But he's kneeling here, his head between Hadou's thighs, for a reason. And yeah, that reason is right in front of him. Daunting and scary and unfamiliar but so, so appealing.

She's pink and glistening and Tamaki has known what this looks like, has seen diagrams and pictures and videos online, but it's a completely different thing to come face-to-face with it in person. Having a thigh on either side of his head is something that's making him a little dizzy with want, and he tips his head against one for a moment to just look while Hadou and Mirio are otherwise preoccupied. He's surprised by how turned on he is from just being this close, being allowed to touch.

He raises a hand, ignoring his own nervous trembling, and slides the tips of two slow, gentle fingers between her lips, prodding her open further so he can see better. She makes no move to stop him or reacts at all to what he's doing other than a nudge against his shoulder with her leg. In this moment, he understands her rampantly curious nature. He wants to know more about this, wants to understand how she works and what he can do for her, and he stares at her in wonder, reserved but eager. He's embarrassed just looking at her, being close to her, touching her, but for once it's not enough to stop him. He wants this.

His first observation is that she's wet. It seems obvious, but frankly he's amazed at how easily his fingertips slide over her, how her body has produced all this because of what he and Mirio are doing. A jolt of arousal catches him off-guard when he imagines sinking into her, how easily he would slide in with all this to help him. This is one of the many differences between being with Hadou and being with Mirio. Her body makes this all on her own, right here. She's ready for him, if he wanted her like that.

But he doesn't, not quite yet. First, he wants to run his thumb over the swollen pink hood at the top of this area, wondering how that feels to her. He doesn't have to ask. She makes a little noise above him, muffled into Mirio's mouth, and Tamaki's chest feels a little lighter. He does it again, rubbing at the loose skin over something a little firmer, and her thighs shift.

Moving his exploration, he slides his fingers further down, further between her warmth. She's very pink here, in a way that looks appetizing, and the lower he draws the wetter she gets. Everything here is soft, smooth, like touching velvet or silk. He likes it. Likes how it feels against the pads of his fingers, likes how it looks, likes that it smells like something new to him, that he can experience for himself now.

Finally, his fingers dip inside her. Just one, first, and when he finds that it slides in with little resistance he adds the second beside it, fascinated. She tilts her hips a little bit, inviting him further, but he only presses in to his first knuckles before drawing out again. Her body is incredible, how she accepts him. Frankly, he's in awe of her, of how she's built and made, how she moves around him in all the little involuntary ways.

He wants to show her. He'll never be able to say it, he thinks. But he wants her to know how much he enjoys her.

He gives one last glance up to Mirio, who's propped up on one forearm over Hadou's face, his other hand cupping her neck as their mouths slide together. They look really good like that. Mirio's here. Tamaki can do anything, if Mirio's here.

He opens his mouth and leans in.

The feel of her on his tongue is the same as she felt on his fingers: smooth, slippery, wet. But now he can taste her too, the full, thick flavor of her filling his mouth, making him want more. He doesn't quite know what he's doing but he wants to try . He runs the flat of his tongue up the center, then laps at her with gentle, rhythmic motions. She rolls her hips against his mouth so he pushes a little harder.

At first he just enjoys. He lets his tongue feel everything, allows his mouth to wander and explore. But then he starts to question. What, exactly, is he doing? What's going on here? Every stroke of his tongue is met with a roll of her hips, but he can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing. His jaw starts to ache a little bit, even though he's only just gotten started. He did his research. He could label everything down here on a scientific diagram. He read a number of absolutely mortifying internet articles with his face burning.

But that's different from being here. From having his mouth on Hadou and trying to make her feel good. He can't be sure that anything he's doing feels nice, really. He's just fumbling around. What if he's doing it all wrong? What if he's not having any effect on her at all?

It makes nausea rise in him. Mirio's one thing, though the idea of not meeting Mirio's expectations, of not satisfying him, strikes terror deep in Tamaki's gut. But if he doesn't know what he's doing with Mirio, he has faith that Mirio, at least, will still love him. Mirio, at least, is his, always has been and always will be. It's the one thing in Tamaki's life that he can rely on with certainty.

Hadou is different. Hadou is his friend, sure. But she's also a beautiful girl and she's cute and fun and she can always decide at any moment that she wants nothing to do with this—with him —anymore. She came into this with expectations. She came into this with desires and the idea that Tamaki and Mirio would make this good for her.

But the harder Tamaki tries, the less he feels like it's working. The more he wants it to be good, the worse he gets. Frustration and fear boil to the surface, filling his veins and freezing in them until they congeal into anxiety. He loses the ability to move, and when he comes to a complete stop, Hadou lifts her head, concern written all over her face.

"Amajiki?" she asks, and her thumb rubs along the length of his ear, too soft, too kind, too good for someone like him who can't handle this basic task.

"I'm sorry," Tamaki gasps out. "I'm not good at this. I don't know what I'm doing. I—"

"Hey." Her soft hands are on his face, then running back through his hair. "Relax. Just go with it. This is just for fun, right?"

Her words are kind and gentle but Tamaki's thoughts are already racing away from him. There's a dark swirl of discomfort that's already overtaking him, making his chest tight. He can't move, even with the knowledge that he has to, or the problem will never go away.

"Tamaki."

His name in that voice snaps him back into the present, and when he lifts his eyes again it's not just Hadou looking down at him, but Mirio too, a smile tugging at his lips.

"You know you look crazy hot doing that, right?" he says. "I can't speak for how Hadou-san feels but you look like you're doing great!"

Tamaki opens his mouth to protest, but Mirio isn't done yet.

"Anyway, I have an idea," he says, and pats the surface of the bed several times in quick succession. "Come lie down here."

Mirio's voice gives Tamaki the strength to overcome his incapacitating embarrassment long enough to rise to his trembling feet. Hadou, babbling questions about what Mirio's idea could be already pouring out of her mouth, moves out of the way so that Tamaki can climb onto the bed. Mirio's strong, gentle hands guide him where he wants him, lingering for comfort in a way that Tamaki knows is intentional and appreciates more than he'll ever have words for.

"Oh!" Hadou says, excited, once Tamaki is flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. "I know! You want me to sit on his face, right?"

Tamaki chokes and Mirio laughs out a, "Yeah, exactly!"

"How can you just say things like that?" Tamaki croaks, knowing his blush is visible everywhere on his bare skin. "You're incredible."

He doesn't get an answer because the other two are busy rearranging themselves around him. Mirio pushes between his thighs and sits himself there, beaming at Tamaki like his only business in that area is to spectate as Hadou crawls over him. Tamaki is distracted by the still-tempestuous churning of his gut when he finds himself looking at her body from this new angle. Her skin is flawless, like a perfectly ripe prized peach, so smooth and fair it practically glows in the dimmed light of the room. For a moment he doesn't know where to look. Her thighs, her breasts, her face are all equally breathtaking and he barely has any time to take it in before she's throwing a leg over him.

"Are you okay with this, Amajiki?" she asks.

It takes Tamaki a moment to answer, because he's now transfixed, once again, by the perfect pink of her right in front of his face. She's glistening with a thick layer of her own moisture and Tamaki's saliva, swollen with arousal and opened up to him like a flower, and when the heavy scent of her washes over him his mouth waters.

"Yes," he finally manages. Yes, yes, yes, please . He doesn't know if he can do this, but he feels his want for her throbbing in his veins.

Slowly, she shifts up towards his face, as though she's waiting for him to stop her. But he wants to give this another try. He wants to do this. He can feel Mirio silently supporting him from between his knees, and with his eyes on the goal he shoves down his anxieties.

He drags her thighs closer, aligning her with his mouth. She lets herself settle onto him, carefully, gently, but he tugs her harder until she's practically smothering him. He doesn't have space for words anymore, but he prods at her hips with his hands until she gets it. She begins to grind herself against his mouth, his tongue.

Tamaki can barely breathe, but he likes it. When he can't breathe, it's harder to think. When it's harder to think, it's harder to worry. He can lose himself in it. Not be so concerned with how well he's doing, or what he looks like right now, or if everyone else is enjoying it. It's easier to be like this: to be beneath her, to let her chase her own pleasure, to be used by her. He doesn't have to fret about whether what he's doing is right or wrong if she's the one in control.

It's here, with Hadou wet against his chin, his tongue pressing against her smooth slickness with every swivel of her hips, that Tamaki begins to enjoy himself.

Feeling brave, Tamaki brings both hands up to the curve of her ass and sinks his fingers into the skin there, kneading at the muscle and fat in time with her rocking. He closes his eyes, lets himself taste her, feel her. She makes an appreciative sound somewhere above him, pleased and deep in her throat, and Tamaki feels it as a spike of heat in his lower body.

"Hey, Amajiki," Hadou says, and she sounds a little bit out of breath, "if you swallow that, can you use it with your quirk?"

Tamaki chokes against her, surprised. Her tinkling laughter rains down from over him as he tries and fails to keep his composure, letting his mouth fall away. She's joking, he knows, but what she doesn't know is that he and Mirio have already discussed and tested some similar hypotheses. She doesn't really need to know that, either. Some things might be best kept between Tamaki and Mirio.

Speaking of Mirio, he's still hanging out somewhere between Tamaki's legs, and he hasn't let Tamaki forget it, either. His broad, warm hands roam almost casually, palms brushing over the sensitive skin on his inner thigh, slipping past his cock without touching it, running teasingly between his legs and over his hole without actually making the effort to pay it any special attention. It's as grounding as it is frustrating, and Tamaki is grateful for his comforting presence while also wishing he would touch him more .

Mirio laughs too, either at the question or Tamaki's response.

"You could manifest all that beautiful hair, Tamaki!" he says, a finger following the line of his right hip to where it becomes his thigh.

Tamaki probably could , but he's not going to. Especially not now. He's a little busy doing other things, like swallowing down more of the wetness that seems to be pouring into his mouth, like dragging his tongue against Hadou in a way that has her motions stuttering, like remembering to breathe. He's so hot he feels sweat springing up at his hairline, the thighs on either side of his head and his own internal burn making him feel like he's under the direct rays of the sun. He doesn't know if his technique is sloppy but it feels like it is, all tongue and lips and the rocking of Hadou's body. But she's started making cute little sounds from above him, a little, " Ah-ah-ah ," with every breath, with every tilt of her hips.

He likes that. He likes that he's making her make those noises and he likes that she's making them in her cute little voice and he likes how they stir up his gut, make his blood pound, make him ache. He likes what Mirio's doing too, finally letting his fingertips drag over his entrance, finally circling it and touching it, finally giving a hint of more to come. He relaxes, savors the taste of Hadou on his tongue, the heat of her on his face.

Then Mirio's finger is slick with lube and pushing more insistently, more meaningfully, but it doesn't matter that Tamaki's technique has fallen away in surprise because Hadou's motions have become jerkier, faster, less controlled. She doesn't seem to notice, her sounds growing in volume, her hands coming down on the headboard to support more of her weight as she grinds against Tamaki's mouth. He realizes, with a sudden shock of arousal, that she's planning on orgasming like this. She's going to do it right here, right against his face.

Tamaki's fingers involuntarily tighten where they're still pressed into the fat of her ass. He pushes into her rhythm, encouraging her, trying to convey his wants to her. Go ahead , he wants to tell her. Chase it. Use me. She seems to get it because she doesn't stop, growing more frantic by the second.

He feels good, feels capable, feels like his heart is going to pound straight out of his chest. This is turning him on even more than he had imagined it would, his cock achingly hard where it lays ignored, but that's not the point. The point is Hadou, the noises pouring out of her, the way she's grinding on his face, the taste of her, the weight of her, the way she feels against him.

She comes with a cry, hips bucking unrhythmically, the muscles inside of her convulsing. He feels her contract and twitch against his tongue and lips as she rides it out, smearing his face with her fluids. For the first time, Tamaki opens his eyes and really looks up at her. He finds her back arched over him, her head flung back, her arms trembling where they're gripped into the headboard. She's breathtaking.

Completely dazed, floating a bit, like he was the one who just came instead of her, Tamaki pushes himself further up the bed to get out from under her. He raises the back of his hand to his chin and wipes the wetness from his face, and struggles to get a lungful of air to ask in a strained voice that doesn't sound like his own, "Was that okay?"

Still braced against the headboard, Hadou looks down at him with a smile that looks like satisfaction.

"Was that okay?" she laughs weakly. "It was great!"

Curled over him like this, she seems to glow, gently luminous. Tamaki blinks up at her, and feels a buoyant sensation rise in his chest, a mixture of pride and admiration, affection, self-satisfaction, warmth. One of Hadou's hands, soft and graceful like a butterfly's wings, drifts down to his face and sweeps his hair back from his forehead. He doesn't know how to deal with any of that so he averts his eyes, aware that his expression is giving every inch of him away.

Hadou finally sits up straight again, supporting her own weight over Tamaki, and her head lolls to the side, neck twisting so she can look behind her. He feels her cascading hair pool against his bare chest with every motion, and even that against his oversensitive skin sends him into electric overdrive.

"Hey, Toogata," Hadou says, drawing out his name, momentarily sated and pleased. "What are you doing back there?"

He can't see Mirio past Hadou's body, but he can hear the grin in his voice when he says, "Nothing really!"

Mirio is not doing nothing really . Mirio is definitely not doing nothing really . He has two fingers inside of Tamaki and those fingers are absolutely not doing nothing really .

"Really?" she asks. "Can I see?"

With that, she throws her leg back over Tamaki. He immediately misses the heat of her body on top of him, but she doesn't go far, only crawling along the length of him on her hands and knees, her round, lovely ass towards him, until she's even with Mirio. Still buzzing off the high of making Hadou feel good, Tamaki almost forgets to be embarrassed by the way she gasps delightedly and stares intently at where Mirio is now three fingers deep inside Tamaki, thrusting them into him with wet squelches of lube.

"You guys—" Tamaki says in protest, trying to sit up and curl in on himself at the same time.

But Mirio leans forward and plants a sure hand, the one that's not currently inside of him, in the center of his chest and pushes him back onto the bed. Tamaki's heart is already pounding, his skin already a little too hot, but looking up into Mirio's eyes as he does this, as Mirio drives his fingers into him again, elevates him to another level.

He hopes that Mirio plans on fucking him, right here, right in front of Hadou, and the embarrassment that flashes through him at the thought isn't nearly enough to blot out even a fraction of the arousal he feels.

"Tamaki," Mirio says, sweet and smiling, "let us look at you."

Something builds up in Tamaki's throat. Maybe it's shyness, or affection, or nerves, or pleasure, but when Mirio crooks his fingers just right he can't help letting it out as a rough, strained noise. He throws his arm over his eyes.

"Me too, me too!" Hadou says. "I want to try!"

Oh no. Oh no . He thinks of Hadou's fingers. Her slender, delicate fingers. Those slender, delicate fingers inside of him. He begins to wonder how embarrassed he'll feel if he comes this early, cock untouched.

"Go for it!" Mirio says, his fingers slowing to a stop lodged halfway inside of Tamaki. "I mean, if Tamaki's okay with it."

Tamaki is definitely okay with it but he's not okay with the tight ball of anxiety that's building inside of his chest again, so instead of words all he manages is a jerky but enthusiastic nod behind the shield of his forearm.

"Okay, Hadou-san, give me your hand," is the next thing Mirio says, and though Tamaki can't see, he can hear her shifting and feel Mirio moving. He pulls out his fingers almost all the way, but not retreating entirely. "It's good if you use a lot of lube like this, okay? He likes it here, at this angle."

Tamaki bites down hard on his lower lip. Mirio's fingers are still motionless at his entrance and he wants nothing more than to slide down onto them, and even barely touching him, between that sensation and his words, he feels like he's melting.

"Oh, I know, we have to stretch him a little more, right?" Hadou asks, unashamed. Tamaki feels some part of her bare body, a smooth thigh maybe, or a hip, against his leg. It's ridiculous how just that sends shockwaves through him like she's turned her quirk on him, even when he just had his mouth between her legs. "Are you going to fuck him?"

"I'd like to!" Mirio answers earnestly, and Tamaki whimpers aloud before he can stop himself.

And then, as Mirio's warm laughter reaches his ears, he whimpers again because something slick brushes against him right where Mirio's fingers are still pressed into him, and Tamaki has the life-shattering realization that Mirio's not going to take them out, even as Hadou slowly pushes in beside them.

"Yeah, like that!" Mirio tells her and she says, marveling, "Wow, he's so tight!" and suddenly Tamaki is gritting his teeth, clenching the pillow under his head, trying to do anything to stop himself from spilling over on the spot.

Luckily, like this, there isn't much Mirio can do to thrust into him the way he was doing before, which is probably the only thing saving Tamaki from the ending he's so fiercely fighting right now. Hadou's finger feels different from Mirio's, smaller, nimbler, but with her added too, the stretch is just on the border of painful. But Mirio and Hadou are used to working together, and the way they seamlessly begin moving at the same time brings a gasp out of Tamaki.

"Toogata, you're really big, did you know that?" Hadou says conversationally, like she's commenting on today's homework. "Amajiki, isn't that good for you? Does it ever hurt? Do you like it?"

Tamaki's not sure which of those questions he's actually expected to answer, if any of them at all, but he manages to make his vocal cords work just enough to say a humiliating, "I like it."

Mirio laughs again, and Tamaki can practically hear the blush in it. "That's nice of you to notice, Hadou-san."

Suddenly, despite himself, Tamaki wants to see, wants to see Mirio's blush and Hadou's lovely face and body, and so he makes the mistake of pulling his arm away from his eyes. He'd somehow forgotten, in the safety of the crook of his elbow, how naked everyone is. How every inch of Hadou's body, all her soft curves, the rounded lines of her thighs and her hips and her chest are on full, unrepentant display. She's leaned against Mirio in a way that's both casual and too striking, their skin meeting, pressed together in so many places. There's a lot of chest to look at here, Tamaki notices with a heavy lurch of arousal. They're almost conspiratorial in the way their heads are bent together, focused and intent but smiling, staring between Tamaki's legs like his body is the most interesting thing they've ever seen.

It's not, he knows it's not, but there's a warm glow that rises up inside of him to fight the embarrassment. They look like they're having fun, like they're enjoying this here with him, and that's all he wants from this. This part, right here, it doesn't feel particularly pleasurable exactly, the way they're stretching him, but the physical aspect of it is secondary. Looking at them, knowing that together both of their fingers are inside of him, is doing horrible things to Tamaki's heart rate. He moves his arm over his face again, but instead of over his eyes, he presses his hand to his mouth, trying to stem the noises that threaten to spill out of him before they start.

His movement brings Hadou's eyes up his torso to his face, and when they make eye contact, she grins.

"He's so cute," she says to Mirio, all excitement and bubbly cheer. "I want to take him apart."

"Right?" Mirio says, sounding ecstatic that he finally has someone to share this with. He throws an arresting wink in Tamaki's direction. "He's really amazing! It's really good when he comes!"

Tamaki allows himself a low groan, equal parts pained humiliation and pleasure, and turns his head so he doesn't have to make eye contact with either of them.

"Is he ready?" Hadou asks. "Hey, Amajiki, are you ready?"

At this point, Tamaki is beyond ready. He's worried if he were any more ready he'd burst or combust or accidentally bloom bunches of apple blossoms from his arms and legs. He knows what it feels like to be prepared for Mirio and this is all that and more, more than he can bear, really, knowing that both Hadou's and Mirio's fingers are still all inside of him right now.

So he nods, rushed and vehement. Hadou expresses her glee to Mirio, who responds in kind as he starts to pull his fingers out completely, hers alongside his, but Tamaki is too distracted by the feeling of emptiness they leave behind to focus on what exactly it is that they're saying. He wants Mirio. He wants Mirio inside of him and all around him but Hadou is also here, also part of this, and he wants her too and he doesn't know what to do about any of that other than to croak out a weak, "How are we doing this?"

Mirio looks to Hadou, and Hadou looks to Mirio, and their expressions turn musing, thoughtful.

"Oh, I know!" Hadou says, face brightening. She beams at Tamaki. "Amajiki, I'm going to ride you, okay? And Mirio will take care of you here."

Eyes wide, Tamaki makes a cut-off choking sound. Years of being with Mirio may have strengthened him, raised his endurance, but the second he envisions what she's suggesting he knows he can't make any guarantee that the second Hadou begins to lower herself onto him with Mirio inside of him he's not going to explode. He feels years younger again, burning painfully at just the idea of it, like the first time he ever sank into Mirio. He'd barely gotten the head in before he'd come, hot and hard and fast and unexpected, and spent the rest of the evening curled up in a clamshell while Mirio tried to coax him out between fits of well-meaning laughter.

"Don't your legs hurt?" Mirio asks Hadou, concerned. "Aren't you tired?"

"Nope!" Hadou replies. "My thighs are really tough! I work them out every day."

But Tamaki barely registers that they're saying words above him.

He's been inside someone before, and had someone inside of him, but never both at the same time. The prospect terrifies him, if only because he knows he won't survive. He wants this to be good. He wants Mirio and Hadou to enjoy this. And they won't if he can't do his job, if he can't contend with their needs. Hadou looks so excited at the idea of what she has in mind and Mirio's already slicking himself up and Tamaki knows he won't be good enough, won't be able to keep up, can't give them what they want—

"Tamaki?" Mirio says.

Tamaki looks up into a pair of familiar, kind, concerned blue eyes.

"I can't do it," he says. Anxiety gnaws at the edges of his stomach.

Mirio and Hadou both blink at him, nonplussed.

"What's wrong?" Hadou asks, her head tilted in concern.

Tamaki flushes again. He doesn't want to just tell her. He doesn't want to just come out and say that he knows he's not going to last. But he doesn't know what else to say that's going to make her understand. It's not her, it's him, and he can't ruin her good time like this.

Instinctively, he curls to the side and tries to hide his face against his pillows.

"I can't do it," he says, half into the sheet. "I'm definitely not going to last."

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Mirio and Hadou exchanging a look. Then they both laugh, hers high and bell-like over his low and hearty.

"Is that bad?" Hadou asks.

"Yes." Tamaki sighs. "I want to make you feel good, Hadou-san."

If it was up to him, he could stay curled up here forever and no one would ever say anything to him again. But then there are four hands on him, pulling him back towards them, spreading out his arms and not allowing him to hide. He feels exposed, but both pairs of hands, one broad and warm and strong and familiar, the other dainty and gentle and soft, draw him out of his own head. Mirio looks him in the eye.

"We want to make you feel good!" Mirio says. "Isn't that the point of this? If you do get off, then we'll be happy."

Hadou nods her aggressive agreement.

Tamaki trembles a little under their hands, under their smiles. What has he ever done to deserve this? All this attention, all this love. He would never consider himself worth any of this, but they seem willing to heap it onto him anyway. He doesn't know what to do with himself in the face of their boundless understanding and generosity.

"You already made me feel so good before, Amajiki," Hadou says sweetly. "Let me do the same for you."

So Tamaki gives in, and accepts his fate.

"Okay," he murmurs, and grimacing only a little bit, spreads his legs wider for Mirio.

Mirio doesn't waste a second in wrapping his hands around Tamaki's legs, pulling him closer, rearranging them so that their bodies line up in a way that's already familiar to Tamaki.

"That's the spirit, Tamaki!" he says, fist around himself, spreading lube up and down his shaft. Tamaki always likes watching that part, a little bit too much maybe. Mirio's hand is broad and big, and watching it slide over himself, watching the way his head peeks out over the circle of his fist, drives Tamaki insane. The want that rises in him helps wash away anything else he was just experiencing. He feels a little dazed as he props himself up on his elbows, raises his hips, waits for Mirio to push into him with that initial stretch.

He doesn't make him wait long. With practiced surety, he holds himself steady and lines up, glancing up at Tamaki's face for any sign of pain as he begins to slide inside. Hadou was correct in her observation that Mirio is big, but by this point Tamaki's body is so used to taking him, so used to the sensation of him stretching him out, that all he feels is relief. He and Mirio—they're meant to exist together, meant to occupy the same space. Mirio, inside of him, feels right.

The fact that Hadou is sitting beside him, watching avidly, doesn't diminish Tamaki's arousal. If anything, seeing the way she's looking at him, how closely she's watching Mirio slowly disappear into Tamaki's body, makes Tamaki hotter, ache more with desire. He has the overwhelming urge to hide, but it's battled fiercely by the equally overwhelming way Hadou's eyes on him make his heart pound a rapid thump-thump-thump in his chest. Distantly, detachedly, he wonders if he would get off on being watched. Part of him recoils from the idea. Another part of him, something deeper, newer, sprouts a thin tendril of curiosity.

But that's a thought to explore another day, because Mirio is pushing into him, going slow as not to hurt him, even though they'd already taken care to stretch Tamaki well. Tamaki tries to take deep breaths, relax, savor the sensation, but Hadou, earth-shatteringly, has started touching herself. She has one hand splayed over the soft roundness of a breast, kneading, squeezing, occasionally tweaking at her nipple, while the other is hidden in the shadow between her legs.

She's getting ready for you , a voice in the back of Tamaki's head reminds him, making him ill and eager all at once.

He can tell when Mirio's bottomed out because he gives a small testing thrust. Tamaki still feels very tight around him, but not to the point of pain. Normally, this is when Mirio would lean in close over him, brush his bangs to the side, press his lips to Tamaki's forehead, and slowly, slowly, begin to set the rhythm for them. Not today. Today, instead, he gives Hadou an expectant look, and holds very still.

"Ready?" he asks her brightly, though Tamaki can hear the strain in his voice. He's turned on, too. He's doing his best to hold back. That realization always makes Tamaki's head spin.

"Oh, is it my turn?" Hadou asks, expression gleeful.

She doesn't hesitate a second. Mirio extends a gentlemanly hand to her, which she takes and uses to balance herself as she throws her leg over Tamaki's body. Once she's hovering there, elevated on her knees, Mirio wraps the same hand he'd just used to spread lube over his cock, still slick and wet, to reach out and jerk Tamaki once, twice, before holding him still.

And all Tamaki can do is lay there, watching it happen. Watching his boyfriend of several years make sure his cock is hard and slick and ready for their best friend to sink herself down onto. Tamaki wonders, not for the first time, if this is just a strange, thrilling wet dream.

But then Hadou lowers herself down a little bit, and his head first kisses the promise of that tight, wet heat, and Tamaki knows he must be awake because there's no way his subconscious could ever invent a sensation this good.

She has no mercy for him. Once he's lined up properly, she slides down and down and down, engulfing him easily, completely. It happens so quickly, and Tamaki can't breathe. It's different, he realizes right away. Different from what he's experienced before. Not better or worse but the sensation isn't what he's used to and it almost chokes him. She's wet and scorching inside, and tight along the length of him, and her body is unfathomably beautiful above him, her nipples rosy, her spit-wet lips parted in concentration or pleasure or in reaction to him stretching her out inside.

"H-hold on," Tamaki gasps, accidentally digging his fingernails into the flesh of her thighs. "Don't move."

He realizes he's trembling. It's a result of everything that he's feeling all at once, the sensation of being both surrounded and penetrated, the deep, even breaths he's taking to cling to his sanity, to have this not be over before it's even begun. His eyes are clenched shut, his abdomen muscles flexed, his molars grit tight together.

For a second he thinks that Mirio and Hadou were wrong. He really can't do this. He teeters on the edge of too much too much too much for a long moment, feeling wracked by a million different sensations at once.

But then weight shifts, and something slides against his open palm. Large, strong fingers thread between his own. Mirio's hand is much bigger than his, and there's always been something comforting about that, like Tamaki can conceal himself within it. He lets Mirio take his hand, rest their joined fingers against the sheets, and gives him a squeeze.

It's just enough to distract him, to pull him away. And then comes down the other side of the sensation, gradually, feeling his body slowly become accustomed to everything that's happening to it right now.

"Okay," he says, opening his eyes, just a little bit. "Okay, go ahead."

It takes them a bit to figure out how to get it all to work. Mirio moves first, which disrupts Hadou's balance; she giggles as both of her palms land flat on Tamaki's stomach to steady herself. They don't budge an inch from there as she begins to raise herself up, then drops down into Tamaki's lap in a motion so smooth Tamaki forgets how to breathe. But Mirio is left resettling his weight, giving a slow, testing, shallow thrust that doesn't match Hadou's speed at all.

"Hadou-san," Mirio says then. "Not to be rude but you really do have a nice butt!"

She does. Tamaki's not looking at it right now but he knows she does, and he'd honestly be surprised if this is the first time Mirio's noticed it. That thought brings back a shard of that piercing guilt, but Mirio starts to rock his hips more rhythmically, his eyes dropped down somewhere between his body and Hadou's.

Maybe it's not that he hasn't noticed, but more that it hasn't been relevant until right now. When it's suddenly very relevant.

"You do too, Toogata!" she replies, falling into the rhythm that he's setting behind her. "You know, the first time your clothes fell off at joint training all us Class A girls were talking about it!"

She's also right. Tamaki is endlessly grateful for the unregulated access he has to Mirio's butt, because it's otherworldly, not to be dramatic. There's a tiny spark inside of him, one he knows would have a hard time ever working its way to the surface, that brings a feral pleasure when he hears that the girls admire Mirio's ass too. Of course they should, because Mirio is always something to be admired. But for all of the people who have seen Mirio naked, Tamaki is the only one who gets to touch. Tamaki is the only one who gets to have him like this.

Until now, at least. But Tamaki doesn't feel threatened. He doesn't feel like his hold on Mirio, or Mirio's hold on him, is any weakened by this. That what he and Mirio have is any less special.

After all, Mirio is inside of him and Tamaki has the most beautiful girl he's ever met bouncing on his cock and between the two of them Tamaki's grip on reality is loose and his body aches with pleasure and desperation. The way they're moving, like three fine-tuned gears in the same piece of machinery, is like how they fight together, how they do homework together. They've spent so much time breathing each other's air that this is just a very pleasurable extension of everything that they've built together over the past three years.

It feels good. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. Tamaki has always had Mirio. And Mirio has always been something that Tamaki is endlessly grateful for. But adding Hadou into the equation is a new and special kind of magic. She's part of them too.

Hadou makes a sound, high and wrecked, and Tamaki's eyes snap up to find that Mirio has moved his broad hand up her body. He pinches one of her nipples between his finger and his thumb, and suddenly Tamaki can't take in a single breath. There's not enough oxygen in the room and it feels so, so, so good.

"You're amazing, Tamaki," Mirio says. "You feel so incredible!"

He says it as though Tamaki is doing anything right now other than just laying here, than just letting Mirio pound into him while Hadou bounces above him and letting the pleasure wash over him in wave after overwhelming wave.

"Yeah— ah —Amajiki," Hadou says, not breaking her rhythm for even a second. "You're so deep— feels so good—!"

Tamaki makes a noise. He doesn't know if it's one of protest or pleasure but it comes out of him anyway, foreign-sounding and hoarse.

"No," he tries to say. "No, it's you two—"

But then Mirio readjusts himself, changes his angle, and with a well-timed grind from Hadou, knocks Tamaki absolutely speechless, breathless, as a hard jolt of electric sensation rocks through him. His instinct is to close his eyes, to just take the pleasure, but he forces himself to watch as Hadou pauses to reach up behind her with both hands and wraps her arms around Mirio's neck.

Her back arched away from him, she looks as graceful as a cat and sinuous as a willow branch, but her new hold on Mirio gives her the leverage to start swiveling her hips, rolling her body in a filthy grind. Tamaki can see himself disappearing into her, where her body is accepting him. He can't help but reach out and touch, feel the place where they're connected, fingers dragging through the wetness seeping out of her around him. As she comes down on him he rubs over her, focusing on the spots he found earlier with his tongue.

She moans, her head lolling back onto Mirio's shoulder, and squeezes around Tamaki. He lets out a sound too, breathy and involuntary, and his hand that's still clamped in Mirio's tightens, his fingernails digging into flesh. He's glad he's flat on his back for this, that he doesn't have to do anything but breathe and grit his teeth and ride this out, because he's beyond the ability for coordinated motion or complex thought.

Tamaki doesn't want to be the only one feeling like this, though. He needs Hadou to come apart too, alongside with him. He keeps his fingers rubbing over her, trying to find something that will make her feel as good as she's making him feel, but from the noises she's making, the way she says his name, it seems like she's just enjoying the friction. She closes her eyes, cute high moans coming in rhythm with Mirio's heavy breathing.

Feeling like a rope pulled too taut, Tamaki's entire body resonates with pleasured tension. He's getting close, the heat building in him, but he's surprised he's even lasted this long. Years of marathon sex and bedroom games with Mirio are serving him well now, but he doesn't have a lot of faith in himself to keep this up. Not with the way Mirio has sped up a little, is driving into him a little harder, the way he always does when he's getting close and loses himself in the moment.

It feels good like that. When Mirio lets himself take, without any inhibition. Tamaki likes it, likes it so much he moans Mirio's name out loud and tosses his head back against the sheets.

Then, suddenly, it's Mirio saying Tamaki's name, hips stuttering, rhythm lost. Tamaki doesn't register what's happening at first, but there's a wet heat inside of him and Mirio's slowing to a stop, causing all three of them to lose their momentum.

"Mirio?" Tamaki asks.

Mirio laughs breathlessly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You were so worried about coming too soon when it should've been me," he says, in that loudly sheepish way he has.

He's amazing. Tamaki wouldn't consider this to be something to be embarrassed about, not Mirio doing it, at least. But he knows that maybe Mirio is worried about what he looks like in front of Hadou too, and to see him handling this with so much grace and poise and unadulterated confidence fills Tamaki with awe. As always, Mirio is amazing.

"Was it good, Toogata?" Hadou asks, excited, swiveling at the waist as though she's not still seated entirely on Tamaki's cock. A stray strand of hair sticks to her forehead with sweat. "Did you enjoy it? Are you satisfied?"

"Of course!" Mirio says. He gives Tamaki's thigh a squeeze. "It's always good with Tamaki. And it's really fun having you here too, Hadou-san."

Tamaki puts his hand over his face, groaning, "Mirioooo." It's still wet and smells distinctly like parts of Hadou that are still clenched around him.

"Hey, you two aren't done, right?" Mirio says, giving Hadou a friendly pat on the hip. "Keep going! I'll watch."

"Oh, are you into that, Toogata?" Hadou asks, but she's already turning back towards Tamaki, fixing him with a glad, determined stare. Tamaki feels it like a burning cloud in his chest.

But he also takes the moment of reprieve to look her over. Her fine skin is now shiny with sweat, her cheeks pink with arousal and exertion. Her breasts rise and fall rapidly with her breath, and she shifts her weight on her knees.

She's getting tired, he realizes, but she would never say so, because after three years Plus Ultra spirit runs in their veins instead of blood. Continuing through exhaustion is more a subconscious default than a voluntary decision. It's unlikely she's even realized she's been working so hard.

Tamaki can't have that. He can't let this go on. He can't let Hadou down like this. He wants to take care of her. He wants to make her feel good.

Tamaki isn't entirely sure what comes over him in that moment, but he does know this: he wants to give Hadou something . It's tiring him out just watching her use her legs the way she is, and she's already put in so much work, already made this so good for him. He knows what Mirio would do if he was in his position (and not just because Mirio has been in his position, ridden by Tamaki until Tamaki thought his legs would give out, but that's an unnecessary tangent). So Tamaki sits up, carefully puts his arms around Hadou, and gently rearranges her until she's underneath him against the mattress.

"What are you doing?" she asks, but she sounds delighted.

He doesn't really know how to answer that, and he's a little bit distracted by the wet slide of cum that's dribbling out of him down the inside of his thigh. Instead of answering with words, he centers himself between her legs, nudging them further apart so he can draw in closer, align himself with her entrance. It's a little bit of a different angle than with Mirio, and the same strange instinct that made him turn her on her back in the first place makes him glide his head down the length of her wetness before reaching her hole and gently pushing in.

It's a little frightening, being the one on top all of a sudden. The overwhelming expectation almost paralyzes him again, but Hadou reaches up, clings to him, starts making those noises again like they'd never paused to rearrange. She's still tight and hot and Tamaki's body knows what to do, has the strength to give her what she needs. He can do this. He can.

"Wow, Tamaki!" Mirio says from somewhere beside him, and Tamaki almost loses his composure. It isn't that he forgot Mirio was there. It's just that he hadn't realized this would involve so much of him watching . "You look so hot and intense!"

Bereft for a response and feeling equal part self-conscious and proud, Tamaki leans down and hides his burning face against Hadou's shoulder. She's damp with sweat here but she smells good, and as Hadou and Mirio both laugh he presses kisses to her soft skin in time with his thrusts. She seems to like that, or like the angle that he's hitting now, because her moans become needier.

"Yeah, he's good at that, isn't he?" Mirio says, and Tamaki can't see him but he knows that he's smiling.

"Mm, yeah!" Hadou says, gasping. "Right there, Amajiki—!"

Happy to do as he's told amid the rising desperate heat inside of him, Tamaki continues to roll his hips against her. This close to her body he can feel her heat, feel her bare skin all against his. Her chest rises and falls with her pleasured breathing, with her unbridled moans, and at each crest her soft breasts press against him.

Suddenly she's squeezing tight around him, so hot and wet and good , and she calls his name in a completely wrecked voice and just that on its own would've been enough to push him over the edge. But he feels the tension build inside of him, that tightness, that strung-taut feeling, and as Hadou contracts around him, squeezing in and making noises and saying his name, Tamaki finally, finally , allows himself to relax into it.

The feeling that floods him is almost blinding, asphyxiating. He can't help the noise he makes, or the way his hips stutter. He feels out of control of himself but it's good, it's so good, and he lets himself fall into it, to embrace this thing that he reached here with Hadou and Mirio. Breathing hard, he pushes himself through it, thrusting until every bit of pleasure has been wrung out of him, until he's no longer shaking with it.

It slowly washes out of him, leaving dregs of relaxation, warmth, pleasure. With his body still pressed to Hadou's, Tamaki tries to regain his breath, blinking his eyes open. He feels satisfied, content. Unselfconscious.

He did it. He smiles a little bit, just to himself.

Carefully, gently, he presses a kiss to Hadou's bare shoulder and then rolls off of her and to the side. Mirio is there, immediately, his hands huge and warm as they rub against Tamaki's arm, just wanting to touch, wanting to feel. Tamaki shivers happily.

"I'm gonna go pee!" Hadou says, hopping daintily off the edge of the bed and padding, butt naked, towards the bathroom. The door shuts behind her, leaving Tamaki and Mirio on the bed alone.

Tamaki looks at Mirio just as Mirio looks at Tamaki. He's smiling, like he always is, and it stops Tamaki from immediately sinking into himself and mentally reviewing the past hour of his life for everything wrong or embarrassing he might have done so he can reprimand himself for it forever.

"Did you have a good time?" Mirio asks, simple and non-judgemental. He reaches one of his broad hands up and brushes a strand of hair out of Tamaki's eyes.

Still blushing, Tamaki nods and leans into his touch.

Mirio's eyes are kind and warm when he replies, "Good! Me too."

"Thank you, Mirio," Tamaki says from somewhere deep inside of him.

Mirio doesn't say anything back, but he does smile at him. Something a little less sunny, a little more gentle, but just as bright and warm as always.

The bathroom door swings open and Hadou appears again, and Tamaki looks away from her as quickly as he can. Just because he's just finished having sex with her doesn't mean he can handle seeing every part of her just...out like that. As much as he wants to. His face burns.

But she's padding towards him, completely relaxed, and she comes to a stop beside him. He makes a point to look up into her eyes and not at anything else.

"Let me clean you up!" she says, and he notices for the first time that she's armed with a wet washcloth. "Listen, did you know it'll get really gross and sticky if you don't?"

Tamaki does know, from unfortunate personal experience, but that doesn't mean he's about to let this beautiful, ethereal being wipe cum from his ass.

"I can do it," he says, reaching for the washcloth, but she holds it just out of his reach. He considers reaching for it with tentacles, but her eyes are so huge, sparkling.

"Amajiki," she says, almost pleadingly.

"Come here, Tamaki," Mirio says, holding out a hand to him.

They're ganging up on him again. It's not fair. How is he ever supposed to endure being around these two?

He takes Mirio's hand, and Mirio guides him flat onto the mattress, then nudges his knees apart so Hadou can have access. At the same time as Hadou begins gently wiping the inside of his thighs, Mirio strokes a hand through his hair.

Okay, Tamaki can admit that this isn't so bad. The feeling of Hadou's hands so carefully on him, Mirio's fingers tender in his hair, objectively the physical sensation is good. So much so that he can almost forget his embarrassment for a moment.

"Wow, we did a lot, huh?" Mirio says, his nails scratching gently against Tamaki's scalp. "I'm pooped! Is it okay if we sleep here, Tamaki?"

Tamaki knows he's not just talking about the two of them. Mirio wouldn't ask permission to sleep in Tamaki's bed. He'd just make himself at home there. What he's doing is inviting Hadou along too, and Tamaki can't think of anything that sounds more pleasant than falling asleep beside not only the most important person in his life, but also with Hadou's soft, warm curves slotted up against him.

That being said, Tamaki's bed isn't that big.

"Yeah," he says, eyeing the space between the wall and the opposite end of the bed. "But...."

"We can cuddle!" Hadou says, apparently finished, as she flings the washcloth to the side and flops over onto the pillow. She either hasn't noticed or doesn't care that she's still naked, and Tamaki supposes he can't really find a problem with that.

Mirio nods, grinning, and pulls back the sheets of the bed out from under her so that he can toss them over her and slide in beneath them himself. Immediately, Hadou attaches herself to his side, leaving Tamaki to wriggle into the space between her and the wall. They settle in and make themselves comfortable.

Tamaki's body aches in the best way. The soreness and exhaustion are enough to drive out any remaining anxiety, and he finds himself reveling in all the bare skin pressed against his own instead of shying away from it. He feels a little bit proud, and very satisfied. He feels good.

"Hey, hey, Toogata," Hadou says, patting her hand lazily against the broad stretch of Mirio's chest. "Did you know? Amajiki loves you a lot!"

Mirio laughs, hearty but soft to match the soft intimacy of the atmosphere.

"I know he does," he says, smiling at Tamaki over the crown of Hadou's head. Tamaki feels himself blush from his chest up to his hairline, but he doesn't look away from Mirio. "I love him a lot too."

Relief and happiness flood through Tamaki. He knew that Mirio knows, that Mirio loves him back. But it feels nice to hear.

He wraps an arm around Hadou and smiles against her hair. Mirio's fingertips skate over his skin where they can reach. With two suns nestled against him, Tamaki thinks he should be blinded, but they're the Big Three. They're all parts of the same whole, and he's right here with them.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052285