“I hope every man that’s ever touched you dies” Bakugo slurs out, cheeks flushed, glossy eyes locked on you.
You blink, then burst out laughing, hand flying to your mouth, “Katsuki! That’s so mean!”
He scowls, trying to sit up straighter and failing miserably, “Wha? You love em or somethin?” he barks out, but the alcohol in his system makes it sound more like a pouty little whine.
You roll your eyes, playful smile pulling at your lips, “You’re wasted”
“You’re a pro hero babe, I don’t think you should be saying that”
“dead” he hisses like a pissy cat.
Your laughter spills out again, light and easy, filling the room. And just like that, he feels himself cool off a little. He lazily slumps further into the couch, watching you through half-lidded eyes.
You move around the room like it’s second nature. Grabbing him cold water, crouching down to tug off his shoes, gently setting them aside. You’re yapping the whole time, some random story spilling from your lips, but he’s not really listening.
He’s too busy watching you.
The way your hands move so carefully, like he’s something that deserves to be cared for so gently.
Something warm stirs in his chest.
Before he can stop himself, he lets out a loud whine, arms lazily opening, “c’mere” he mutters.
You smile softly, finding your way to him in seconds. You curl up on the couch with him, fitting perfectly into his arms, like it’s where you belong.
He buries his face into your hair, inhaling deeply, like he’s desperate to memorize your scent. You giggle softly, wiggling around until he grunts and squeezes you hard.
“You’re tickling me” you protest, giggles still spilling out.
He cracks a small, crooked smile. He nuzzles in deeper, deliberately making it worse until you’re wriggling around, laughing hard, desperately trying and failing to escape.
He keeps a strong grip on you, not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you in his grasp. Enough to remind you, you ain’t going anywhere.
When he finally gives you mercy, head flopping back onto the couch cushion, he’s got a silly little smile on his face. His hands stay on you, thumbs gently rubbing small circles in your hips.
You smile up at him with that soft look in your eye. You smile at him so fondly, so warmly, he feels his heart stutter.
“Quit lookin at me like that”, he mutters, gently pushing your face away in a playful way, “y’know my hearts weak”
You jump up instantly, all laughter gone, worry taking over your face, “What? Are you okay?”
He laughs, loud and bright, something silly and boyish breaking through. He reaches for you, hands pulling you back to him like he can’t stand the space between you.
“I’m kidding”, he grins. From where you’re sitting with him, hands gently over his heart, you can feel it. The way his heart races, the warmth radiating from his skin.
It calms you, huffing out a little laugh of your own, “You’re not funny”
“…yeah,” he mumbles, quieter now, gaze flickering over your face. The look in his eye rivals your own, soft and warm, something almost shy creeping in, “But you care.”
You don’t even deny it, just lean in to pepper little kisses down his jaw, making sure to kiss every little scar you can reach, “Because I love you so much”
And damn, does that get him.
That overwhelming, heavy gratitude that settles deep in his chest. His throat tightens, breath catching as he blinks rapidly, trying to force away the burn behind his eyes. I’m never drinking with those idiots again, he thinks bitterly, makes me soft as shit.
He suddenly flops over, big body draping over your own, “I love you too” he mumbles, voice rough but unmistakably shy.
His grip tightens just a little, fingers curling into your shirt, “…so don’t go touchin’ anybody else”, he adds under his breath, softer this time, less bite, something more fragile that he’d never admit to sober.
You simply smile, laughter bubbling out as you run your fingers through his hair, “Wouldn’t dream of it, handsome”.
A/N: I luv grumpy characters being secret softies can u guys tell