Even before All Might – before he’s gotten the gift of being the hope of the people – Toshinori has been handsome.

He knows it, too – though it hadn’t been on the forefront of his mind most of the time.

He’d been just as tall and optimistic; muscular, if not as beefy as All Might would be.

He’s never had trouble finding partners to share a night, and he thinks – hopes – they’ve had their fun, even if the encounters had been a bit… lacking for himself.

It’s been humbling – maybe even a bit humiliating – to find himself unable to perform the way he used to after his life-changing injury. Not that it mattered much at the time. 

It took him a while to come to terms with his body slowly starving away in front of his own eyes; watching his hair go frizzy and loose its shine; his eyes sinking in deep, skin stretched tight across his skull.

He is a far cry away from the handsome man he had once been, and suddenly nobody was lining up in front of his door anymore.

For All Might they still come, yes. But not for Toshinori. Not for him.

Until they did – sort of, at least. Eraserhead and Present Mic – Aizawa and Hizashi… and suddenly his inability mattered again, made him feel ashamed on a bone-deep level that unnerved him fundamentally.

Had him shying away from Hizashi’s overt, and Aizawa’s quiet advances, waving them off with a forced grin and a half-hearted explanation about how he was tired – because there was no way he’d be able to satisfy them. Not like this – and…

“Maybe you should just stop assuming things,” Aizawa murmurs moist and warm against his thin neck, dragging him down to the mattress with a hand fisted in the back of his shirt. 

It’s not hard for them to peel him out of it; it is one of All Might’s shirts and large enough to pose as a nightgown for Toshinori. His boxers are just as precariously hanging from his frame, easy to drag off his long, skinny legs. Exposing him to the cool air of the room.

He’s not sure he shivered, but he must have been because two bodies descend on him and keep him warm. Hizashi is babbling, fingers quick and intrusive, and Aizawa is quiet and intense, and there is little else Toshinori can focus on when they overwhelm all his senses.

.o.

Hizashi fucks him first, and deep down he is thankful for it because it means Aizawa is at his front; calm and collected, dragging fingers through his hair and staring down into his slowly watering eyes as Hizashi fucks him in sharp, tiny thrusts.

“That’s it,” Aizawa mumbles, one of the few things he says, and Toshinori holds on to it like a lifeline as he is too weak to hold himself up and needs Hizashi’s hands around his hips to keep him in place.

“So warm. Such a good little hole to fuck; isn’t he, Eraserhead???”

“Can’t say. Haven’t fucked him yet,” Aizawa grunts, and then after a second of deliberation continues: “Sure does look like it, though.”

Hizashi cackles, a little out of breath, hands warm and gentle and so in contrast to everything else. He’s not moving much; basically just drags his cock along an inch of the quivering, nervous walls of Toshinori’s insides, but he doesn’t need more than that.

His body is alight with a bone deep sensation; a.. a need that makes him feel like he has to constantly bear down on the cock; like he has to pee; like he has to come immediately, but not really…

It makes him whiny, maybe. A bit. He can’t tell, but Aizawa is shushing him with low hums and takes up his petting once more.

Hizashi is halting, nearly stopping, makes considering noises and then changes his angle, and pushes –

and Toshinori can’t help his cry, so sudden and visceral, tasting blood in the back of his throat as his fingers, thin like twigs, claw at the bedding, body thrumming, cock feeling so tender even though he knows – he knows it’s soft between his skinny thighs, pathetic and pink, and he feels like he’s going to come but that is impossible, and

“You’re doing so well, Yagi,” Hizashi hums, voice vibrating across his back, raising goosebumps. “You feel so warm and perfect. Clenching down like a good boy. Can’t believe you’ve never done this before – look how sensitive you are. So easy for us. So easy.”

And suddenly he comes; bone deep, throbbing, the sensation robbing him of his senses as his body spasms and they hold him through it, gentle him down as his eyes roll up into his head and he’s drooling; just a few watery drops of cum dripping from his foreskin as his intestines nearly vibrate with the sensation, muscles clamping down, undulating, massaging–

and Toshinori has never felt anything like it before, but it is more encompassing, more mind blowing than any orgasm he’s ever had. It takes him so completely, so deeply that it is almost frightening, taking his breath and mixing a little blood with the saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth-

and he doesn’t think he’ll ever even want to feel anything else. Not when he hears Hizashi sing for him; sounding so satisfied even though Toshinori hasn’t done a thing.