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Hello Queen, I’ve come with a request for your husband as promised! May I please have some nsfw body worship for All Might in his small form? If you’d like a basis, maybe he’s just having a bit of a rough day and his insecurities are piling up? He tries to hide it from his S/O but they know him all to well and catch on super quickly?

this is like 3k words or something don’t even @ me. i have all might feels man.

You know Toshinori too well not to be able to tell there’s something going on. As All Might, he hides all of his insecurities and fear behind a strong smile, but as Toshi, he doesn’t have that ability. Being “weak” just drains everything out of him, and no matter how many times you tell him you like him just as much in his smaller form, he never seems to take it to heart.

So you decide it’s time to show him you mean it.

“Toshi,” you murmur after dinner, and he looks up from the meal he’s been, at best, picking at and at worst pushing around on his plate. He plasters on that fake smile and soft look, like that’s going to fool you. You know he’s feeling down; the way he clenches at his side and keeps sighing, how he’s been staring at pictures of himself in his “glory days” on and off for several hours now is a dead giveaway. It’s almost insulting that he thinks you won’t notice, but you know he’s just trying to avoid bringing you down too. It would be sweet if it wasn’t so infuriating. “Let’s go lay down. I wanna nap.”

Giving the clock a furtive glance, he realizes something is up in an instant. It’s barely 4pm, and you never want to nap that late in the afternoon. Had you picked up on him? But he can’t refuse your hand tugging him to his feet, nor your insistent pull towards the bedroom. He can never resist you, the gentle way you bring him back up from his dark thoughts, your sweet smile, and your undying loyalty is all too much.

The curtains are drawn, filtering the afternoon light down into a soft glow in the room, the familiar rumpled sheets and smell of vanilla candles softening some of the dark thoughts that have been plaguing Toshi all day.

When you try to push him playfully down to the bed, he laughs and drags you with him, eliciting a surprised squeal from you before you laugh too. There’s a lot of squirming and laughter as you get comfortable, and soon you’re laying face to face. Your fingers play idly across his face, smoothing out the hard stress lines, tracing over his lips and over his brow. His eyes flutter shut as he basks in your attention, and soon you’re pushing at his shoulder to make him roll over.

He goes with a groan, expecting you to curl up into his side, but is surprised to feel a weight settle over his hips. When he opens his eyes, he finds you hovering over him, giving him a knowing look. He quirks a brow at you, content to let his hands rest on your knees and see where this is going.

You pause for a moment, giving him a long, careful once over, making sure he knows you’re drinking him in. You know it works when he fidgets underneath you, squeezing your knees and looking off to the side. A soft flush creeps up his neck, not quite reaching his cheeks yet, and you suppress a laugh. He always tells you he doesn’t know what you see in him, a washed up hero who can’t even do his job properly anymore-- maybe not in as many words, but you aren’t stupid enough that you can’t pick up on his hidden meaning-- and this time you’re going to show him what you see in him.

“Toshi,” you say, sliding your fingers up under the hem of his shirt. He balks as you push it higher, his fingers winding around your wrist to stop you in a habit that you can’t figure out, but doesn’t really fight when you continue to push it up, revealing the purple flower scar that covers his whole left side. “I love you.”

His hand falls away, but you grab it before it can hit the bed and lace your fingers with his, all while continuing to push his shirt up. When you can take it no further, you release his hand and tug, forcing him to let you pull it off or get tangled up in the fabric, and he huffs out a laugh at your insistence.

“I love you too, _____,” he answers when it’s off, his shy gaze flicking to meet yours and away again. If there’s one thing you love about him, it’s his shy acceptance of your affection, tempered by an equal dislike of his inability to see his worth. His hands twist in the blanket as he waits for your next move. This is an unusually slow start for you, and he’s sure you’ve never started anything this early in the afternoon. He can tell you’re planning something, but what it is is beyond his guess.

Your hands are soft and warm as they smooth over his shoulders and down his chest. You have yet to lean over and kiss him, focused more on what your hands are doing. They continue a path down his stomach, his muscles-- still defined, if not smaller-- under your heavy touch. He can feel that you’re putting some weight into it, as if making sure he knows you’re touching him, and his heart jumps. They finally reach the band of the sweats he’s been wearing all day, and then you’re crawling further down and they’re sliding down his legs and he’s left in nothing but boxer briefs.

When he reaches for your hands, intent on repaying the favor, you gently push his hands down, pinning them to the bed for a moment before returning to your seat on his hips. He isn’t quite hard yet, still a little confused and very curious about your intentions.

You take another moment to rake your eyes over him, the great and powerful All Might mostly naked and vulnerable underneath you, ready and willing for you to do whatever it is you’re going to. When your eyes meet his, you can see the abated insecurity and take in his hands clenching the bedsheets, belying his nervousness. Once again, you’re filled with ire at his lack of self-worth and lean over, covering his lips with yours for the first time.

His hands fly up to your hips, then your waist, then one finds your cheek before sliding into your hair, unsure of where he wants to touch and hold. But his grip is gentle, like always, a remnant of his fears of his brute strength and hurting you and you find it endearing.

“Toshi,” you said when you pull away, and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and his cheek while you wait for his response.

He’s breathless just from that kiss-- curse his missing lung-- and his eyes are still closed as he answers. “Y-Yes?”

The hum you make as you nip at his neck makes him think you didn’t mean to say his name for a moment, but then you say, “You always say you don’t know why I’m with you. And you always tear yourself down at every turn.”

He can feel your lips moving against his skin even as they drag down to his shoulder. Your tongue laves at the juncture, your teeth sinking into the skin just hard enough to leave a nice, pretty red mark against his pale skin, and he can feel the heat rushing south from his face. There’s no judgement in your voice, but there’s barely suppressed ire and he’s suddenly worried you’re tired of it.

Nevermind the fact that you’re latched onto his neck like a vampire and seated over his slowly awakening erection, but no one’s ever accused Toshinori of thinking rationally before.

His hand tightens in your hair, but you ignore it in favor of moving further down. He isn’t exactly trying to keep you from moving, but he would prefer it if you would stop so he could think straight. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know why you’re bringing it up now, is unsure of your motives and his head is spinning because now your hips are rocking over his growing erection.

You pause over his heart and feel him breathe a sigh of relief as you rest your head there, listening to the rapid tattoo against his ribs. It’s a bit awkward from your position, but you place your hand directly over the heart of his scar, the source of his insecurities, and feel him flinch underneath you. The movement of your hips keeps him contained, but then you stop and feel him tense underneath you. “You always tell me you’re worthless as a hero, that you’ve failed everyone because you can’t protect them anymore, that you aren’t good enough for me if you can’t be All Might.”

Your voice is soft in the silence of the room, but it feels like condemnation to him. But then you press your lips to his chest and begin a slow, lazy path across his chest, swirling your tongue around his nipple once, and his hips jerk. And when you lace your fingers with his and squeeze, he meets your soft, defiant gaze and realizes you aren’t fed up with him, but fed up with how he talks about himself, and it dawns on him what you’re doing. “_____…”

“I don’t want All Might. I want Toshinori,” you say between laying open mouthed kisses down his right side. He’s practically trembling underneath you, and you don’t know if it’s from you or your words and you don’t really care right then. “And I know that if it comes down to it, you will always be All Might, regardless of your physical form, because Toshinori and All Might are the same.”

Toshi closes his eyes, drinking in your words and the warmth of your body and mouth against him. Your hand is still covering the core of his wound, the source of every negative thought he’s been having and the fear he feels on a daily basis, and he lifts his own to cover it.

For a moment, you think he’s going to pull it away, but he presses harder, gripping your hand like a lifeline. The angle is awkward as you move across the waistband of his boxers, your free hand coming down to cup his now fully awake cock, and it twitches against your hand. A gasp reaches your ears and the hand on yours tightens a fraction more and then you’re sliding your hand out from under his to pull the last article of clothing he’s wearing off.

He springs free, far too large and curving beautifully against his stomach. When you take him into your hand, it throbs and a strangled moan leaves his lips. “Baby, please…”

You pump his cock a few times, your free hand gripping his hip, but before he can get much satisfaction from your touch, you place a kiss to his swollen tip and you’re moving back up. Leading with your mouth again, you make a slow pace up his left side, pausing when you reach the very edge of his scar. You stare at it for a long moment, idly tracing the twisted lines and divots that make up the majority of it as you gather your thoughts. It wasn’t like you had planned what you were going to say, but you needed to choose your words carefully. “Toshi, I know you put so much value in your strength and ability to protect others, and I understand that you feel like a failure because you can’t do that anymore.”

He watches you in a haze as you press the first kiss to his scar, but he still jerks at the touch. You’ve never touched it before, he’s never allowed you to touch it before, fearing you would find it repulsive and he couldn’t handle that rejection. It was a long time before he even allowed you to see it, and even now he always felt a heady rush of fear and then relief when you didn’t react. “_____, you don’t have to--”

There’s a stinging pain at his hip and it takes him a moment to realize you just pinched him. You’re quick to soothe it, rubbing your hand over it as you pull away to look up at him. “Stop that. That’s exactly what I mean. You think I find this disgusting but, baby, it’s the reason I love you. You’ve given your all all this time. You’ve given your time, your energy, your devotion, and even your health and almost your life. To me, this scar represents everything you’ve given for everyone, and I could never find that repulsive.”

You put renewed effort into your kissing, leaving a fiery trail everywhere you can on the ragged, twisted flesh, letting Toshi soak in your words. It wasn’t your intention to downplay his insecurities. They were deep rooted and valid, after everything he’d endured, but he needed to understand your viewpoint on it, instead of just wallowing in his false ideas about it. When you were done covering every inch of his skin with loving kisses, you came to rest your cheek on his stomach, returning to tracing the pattern of dips on his side and were relieved that he no longer flinched.

“_____, I’m sorry. For doubting you. I know I-- things have been hard on you and I haven’t been helping. But I love you. And--” He paused, taking a deep breath as he carded his fingers through your hair. “Thank you. For this. For sticking by me. For caring. I don’t know what I’d do without you by my side.”

There was an intense burning in his eyes and he closed them, hoping to push back the flood of tears threatening to burst. Never had he felt so loved, so wanted, so safe before. It was always his job to protect others-- he’d never considered what it would be like to be protected, even just from himself.

“I am always here for you, Toshi. Please don’t forget that again,” you whisper, releasing your calm facade to reveal the anxiety beneath. It only lasts a moment though, just long enough for Toshi to register it was even there in the first place, before it’s replaced by a playful smile.

Your hand is soft as it wraps around his cock, which had softened during your passionate exchange but it isn’t long before he’s rock hard again. A desperate gasp reaches your ears for the second time that afternoon as you move your hand up and down the length of him, fingers barely meeting on either side of it. There’s a bead of precum forming at his tip, and his hips jump, a shocked yelp leaving his lips when you lick it clean.

“W-Wait, you don’t have to--”

His words are lost in a moan as you lick a stripe up the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock before sucking his head in between your lips. It takes only a moment before you’re sliding him further down your throat, just outside the limits of your gag reflex, cheeks hollow and your tongue working overtime. You occupy what you can’t swallow with your hand, the slick sounds filling the room and drowning out Toshi’s panting and quiet, desperate moans.

He’s so worked up that he doesn’t last long, tugging your hair and calling your name as a warning, but you force your throat to open around the last bit of his cock and he comes down your throat with a strangled moan, your name somewhere in between.

When you pull off of him, his hands are insistent, pulling you up and tugging at your shirt, but you push them away with a laugh. “No, I’m okay, Toshi. You can make it up to me later. Right now, come here.”

You knock him off balance by throwing yourself into his chest. He huffs out a laugh as he hits the mattress with a thump, wiry arms encircling you and pulling you to almost lay on top of him. Your legs intertwine with his, laying so far across his chest that your ear is pressed to his heart on the other side, and his fingers thread into your hair. You can tell that he presses his lips to your head, but then he lays back, his other hand skimming up and down your back in a slow rhythm. It falls silent in the room and you think he might fall asleep until his voice breaks it.

“I was thinking, there’s a new movie that’s playing in theaters. It’s supposed to be pretty good, if you wanna try it out. And then we could get dinner afterwards,” he says into your hair.

You hum in thought, almost tempted to decline because you’re too comfortable to move, but quickly change your mind. He was reaching out, trying to return things to normal and you were willing to give him that small comfort. Toshi would forever want to take care of you, that would never change. You just hoped he understood that he didn’t have to take on that burden alone.

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