cw: a little nsfw at the beginning, minors dni, otherwise just comfort. this is a repost.
Bakugou blinks once, then twice, as though he’s now realizing how deep in a trance he was prior to you speaking. He shakes his head gently, then lets his gaze focus on your bare breasts first, then rise up to meet your quizzical look.
“Mm?” It’s a quiet grunt that’s followed by him kissing the softness of your belly and cupping your breasts. You frown a bit, but the sensation of his rough hands on yours, especially with his thumbs grazing at the nipples is still a little overwhelming. Not as overwhelming as the sudden twitch of his cock inside you that makes you squirm, and you wonder how he manages to do that so effortlessly.
Your voice softening a bit, you ask, “are you alright? You seem… unfocused.” The hands you lay flat on is chest to support your upright position curl into fists.
He grits his teeth for a moment, then grins. “What, I can’t have a lazy day?”
As though challenged, he flips you over so quickly that you’re almost surprised to find yourself laying flat on your back so fast, and dips low to kiss at your earlobe.
“Such a demanding pillow princess, aren’t you?” he teases between nips and bites at your jaw and neck. Maybe it’s true, you do prefer to be under him rather than on top of him, but it’s not so much the position that was the issue, but the fact that for the first time in a while, you’re struggling to feel connected with him.
You stop him abruptly, almost capturing his cheeks in your hands as he makes his way for your lips. The look on his face is of an intense shock once you trap him, dramatic enough that you end up stifling a laugh and squeezing, he’s so cute.
“Talk to me,” you insist, pursing your lips. Bakugou’s eyebrows knit into a line and you can hear a groan of irritation right before he plops down onto you, as though defeated. He’s heavy as shit, you acknowledge, but the warm pressure actually does feel nice. You can feel the slow thump of his heart now, even if he’s slowly pressing air out of your lungs.
Bakugou’s head nestles into your neck and his hands search for yours in the sheets before your fingers intertwine. He holds on tight, and for the next few moments, you’re lost in the sound of him breathing, his chest rising and falling and the feel of his hands.
He lets out a sigh that seems to run head to toe, from core to the tips of his toes, then turns his head to kiss you.
“I’m exhausted,” he finally admits. His voice is smaller than usual, but his lips are just by your ear so you hear him loud and clear.
Air blows from his nose in the form of a muted scoff. He holds your hands tighter than releases them before rolling over to your side. He must have picked up the barely there strain in your voice from supporting his weight.
Bakugou’s arm drapes around your waist as you turn to face him and he pulls you to press against him. Stroking gently at the side of his face, you give him a warm smile.
“You’re allowed to be tired,” you remind him. His eyes widen just for a moment as he takes the words in, then looks away.
You tense, but he spares you the lecture about the pressures of being a top hero. Instead, he pouts and you shift upwards to press your forehead onto his. You can feel his body relax against yours and you raise your leg so that it rests on the side of his hip.
“Yes, really. You’re allowed to rest,” you repeat, more forcefully this time.
The pressure to perform, in more ways than one, dissipates with the tone of your voice. He holds you again, tighter this time, burying his head in the crook of your neck.
You can feel a shudder, but he isn’t crying. Not yet.
Your hand twists into blonde locks and you comb gently at his scalp with your fingers. If no one else will let him breathe, not even himself, you’ll be the one to make him.
