Thread by @Iracebeth3

For #TamakiWeek2021 Day 4 non-con

I have no idea why I was craving this particular flavor of non-con BUT-

cw: heavy mutual non-con, blood, public sex, voyeurism, forced orgasm, overstimulation

#MiriTama, infiltered Mirio non-cons Suneater in front a crowd
_______

Mirio has never wanted to come so bad in his entire life.

Just come. /Now/. At once. Just finally finish this — end this torture.

His body doesn't listen. That blue pill he took earlier is enough to keep him hard, but not enough for him to come.

Not like this.

Around him, people cheer and scream. He doesn't get how they still have the energy to be excited. It feels like he's been doing this forever. He'd have passed out from pure exhaustion ages ago if he didn't have to keep his cover.

Even now, he can only hope he is not messing it up. If he messes this up, then all of this would've been for nothing. He hopes he's doing this right.

If "right" is a word that can be used in this context.

Mirio swallows hard, trying to find anything to focus on. He can hear very little past the crowd's noises — the slap of skin against skin and his own heart in his ears. No sound from the outside, and no sound from the body under his.

It seema Tamaki decided he won't give the onlookers the satisfaction. But Mirio knows better than to believe the façade. Tamaki probably wants to cry his eyes out, but he's resisting with a drive and will Mirio didn't even believe possible. Even with his arms covered in black+

bruises, even with his back a mess of various degrees of red, bloody and swollen... Even then, Tamaki didn't do what they wanted. He didn't cry or scream high enough to satisfy their sadism.

That's what pissed them off.

Seeing the results, Mirio kinda wishes he had. If Tamaki had been afraid, they would have mocked him for it, but they would have locked him up with the others without making him fight. If he had been weak in a fight, they would've been satisfied with one fight. If he had been a+

strong fighter but had begged for mercy while they tortured him yesterday, then they'd have stopped at that. It wouldn't have come to /this/.

But Suneater wasn't like any of the petty heroes they've managed to humiliate so far. Even with his quirk nullified, he put up a good+

fight. So these monsters, the villains whose ranks Mirio has succeeded to infiltrate, had to go further. They had to go to the latest extreme: make sure the "monster" was broken to pieces. Or else they wouldn't be happy.

That's how Tamaki ended up tied at the center of a hall full of onlookers, split open on a villain's cock. Not just anyone's, but /Mirio's/. If Tamaki knew, would it make it better? Or worse? What would he feel knowing it's him raping him in front of a cheering crowd?

It's a twisted joke from fate. When Mirio had to leave, they swore they'd see each other again, even if it sounded unlikely or impossible. Mirio never imagined he'd make good of that promise like this. He would've preferred never seeing Tamaki again over /this/.

If only he could come already. He needs this to be over. There's so much blood. So much. He can feel it staining the front of his jeans. He can feel it on his shoes; on the way he has to press his hands on something (Tamaki's already bruised hips) just to avoid sliding.

He kept them at the table at first, but he slid on the puddle of blood and his cock slid out at the movement. Then he had to grab it and get it back in — curl his fingers around the bloody shaft and push it in the even bloodier hole and pound. He had to look down to aim and it+

took every ounce of restraint he had not to gag. The vision is burned in his memory, and he knows it'll haunt him forever.

Maybe it's stupid, given the situation, but he wishes Tamaki had at least something to cover with. He wishes their tables were turned, because Mirio is+

more than used to be naked in public, but Tamaki isn't. There's some irony to that, but Mirio can't find it in himself to feel anything even remotely positive about this. Bile climbs up his throat too fast when he tries to think. He can't.

He just has to come. Come on. Just /once/ — just come /once/ and that will be it. Close your eyes. Don't look down. Don't see. Come. Come. /Now/. Comecomecome-

No use.

Swallowing hard, Mirio tries to get a different angle — tries to get /anything/ for his dick to cooperate.

And he must've angled his cock just right, because Tamaki moans.

It's a surprised sound. It cuts through his teeth and drops to the floor, somehow audible through the noise. Mirio feels time move very /very/ slow.

His cock twitches. It's horrible, but it does. That involuntary+

sound sent the first thing even remotely close to arousal though his spine.

Tamaki's teeth clench against each other, so hard Mirio can hear it over the crowd's cheers — their excitement renewed. They are like sharks, and that little moan was a drop of fresh blood in the water.

Now they want more.

Tamaki's ears go red with embarrassment. He's blindfolded, so Mirio can't see his expression. He looked murderous before, defiant even when his arms locked into what looks like a very unpleasant position over his back, the rest of his body laid on the+

cold metal table. But right now he just seems confused- /ashamed/, his mind supplies. He is ashamed. It's written in the way his eyebrows crease; in the way his ears fall, ever so slightly; in the way his cheeks colored red with embarrassment. And it's the first time Mirio has+

seen him close to breaking.

He reigns himself in quickly, his teeth clenching so hard against each other Mirio can hear him over the cheers and whistles of the crowd. They like to hear the monster scream, they want Mirio to get more of those.

And Mirio should probably think about this more — he should consider what it would mean for Tamaki to get off from this, against his will, but Mirio can't think. He stopped thinking three stains of blood and three thousand thrusts ago.

He reaches forward, closing his hand around Tamaki's soft cock. It's soft, yes, but Mirio can work with that — he knows exactly what it takes to make him hard.

And surely enough, it works. Tamaki tenses again, his breath getting caught in bis throat. His hands close+

into fists, and he's fighting against his restraints again, trying to get away. But he's trapped. And Mirio is grateful, in a way. He's grateful Tamaki can't get away, because he knows he wouldn't stand having to drag him closer.

Mirio swallows hard and slows down his+

thrusts, enough to time them up with his hand. He doesn't have to chase for the right angle, because he knows where it is. He's known for years now — since the first time they decided to take things a step further in the darkness of his bedroom.

Tamaki is not expecting it. His body, slack after the first few pumps, goes rigid again. He fights against the ropes with a curse, but his resistance dies down when a moan escapes him. Mirio's thumb circles the head of his cock before pumping him again, slow, ever so slow and he+

lets out a sharp cry that makes the crowd cheer harder.

There's something desperate in Tamaki's face. He can't possibly break free, but that doesn't stop him from trying. He's moving as much as he can with Mirio's claw-like grip on his hips. Mirio doesn't know how to feel when+

that voice (*Tamaki's voice*, so many memories come to him with Tamaki's voice-) asks him to stop.

It's not begging. Or, at least, he doesn't intend him to be. Tamaki would never. It probably meant to sound threatening, but part of the effect is lost when Tamaki can barely+

raise his voice, when he can't risk moaning again. He can't master that when he sounds broken- two breaths away from falling apart without ever being put himself together again.

And Mirio should stop, he should definitely stop touching him. He should let him keep his+

dignity at least... But they'll be here forever if he does. And then they'll call someone else to finish the job, and Mirio will end up blowing his cover for sure.

So he clenches his teeth and times his hand just right — in that way that's always made Tamaki's toes curl. And Tamaki moans, sweet and perfect and /him/, and Mirio feels his cock throb again. Tears stinging the corners of his eyes. This is wrong. So fucking wrong.

He needs it to be over.

Swallowing hard, Mirio leans forward. He lets his weight fall on Tamaki's back. Tamaki is cold and tense, and Mirio makes sure to close his eyes (he doesn't want to see his face, /he can't stand the idea of seeing his face/) when as he whispers "Come for me."

It does the trick like a charm. Tamaki comes, finally, thick ropes of cum on Mirio's hand. He clenches around Mirio's cock tight. He lets out tiny, overstimulated whimpers with every thrust and Mirio is coming before he knows it, coming /inside/.

The crowd erupts around them again, the cheers wild. They scream slurs that makes his stomach twist — whore, slut, cockslut.

Mirio steals a single, furtive glance to Tamaki, and the sight makes his heart clench in his chest.

He is crying. His blindfold is wet with tears, his chest heaving with sobs. He's not tense anymore — his body lays lax, defeated. He doesn't even try to move again, his body sinking as if he wanted to fall through the table and disappear.

And then they take him away. Mirio can map the road they'll take to the dungeons. He's learned it by heart in his months here, when he still dreamed of a way to take the heroes out of here unnoticed.

"That was quite a performance."

Mirio startles. He looks up, dumbfounded, to his group leader's playful smile.

"Thanks," His stomach twists, but Mirio lets out a smile of his own; he doesn't try to make it less tired, because it wouldn't be believable, "he resisted a lot."

"A tough one," the man says, rolling off his shoulders, "I told the boss he should let him join us, but he refused. /Too mutant-y/, he said... Too bad for you. It looked like you wanted to keep him."

Mirio laughs, feeling a dark pit forming in his stomach. He shakes his head.

"Did it?" He answers, chuckling slightly, "nah, he'd be too hard to handle. And if he gets ahold of his quirk-"

His group leader nods at that.

"We gotta send him back as soon as possible," he says, looking troubled, "the boss will leave him downtown soon. He wants to send a message."

A message.

So Tamaki will be left naked and defiled in a public place. They want the thing to make it to the news. They want it to be talked about on social media, pictures going left and right. They want all the heroes to be afraid.

They'll have Tamaki ruined.

Mirio's heart clenches in his chest again. It takes everything in his power not to cry at the thought.

"Well, that's for the boss to decide," the man continues, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket, "good job today. The boss wants to see you later today."

Mirio nods, trying to hide the way his heart speeds up a bit. /The boss wants to see you/ is the thing he's been hoping to hear since he first entered here. The one thing he needs — the only reason why he's here. The reason why he did /this/.

He knows right then that it wasn't worth it. Even if he stops these villains (and he will, he /has to/ succeed) he'll never be able to look at himself in the mirror. Tamaki will never forgive him and, even if he did, he'll never forgive himself. After this, his life is over.

And maybe millions, thousands of millions will be saved by this. And it won't be worth it.

It's too late to realize, perhaps he didn't have his priorities in order.

/Good job today./

(~end)

(This idea got in my head and it wouldn't leave me alone so here it is xD)

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