#drunk love

“And yet,” he said, squeezing her fingers, “you keep holding my hand.”

“Because if I don’t,” she said seriously, “you might flirt with the waiter.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Jealous.”

She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Possessive.”

That earned her a grin so smug she immediately pushed his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what.”

“Like you know exactly how much I love you.”

“I do know,” he said softly.

When they finally made it outside, the cool air hit them both at once. Y/N laughed and grabbed onto his arm, stumbling just a little.

“Okay,” she said. “The sidewalk is definitely moving.”

“It’s not,” Rafe said, pulling her closer. “You are.”

She pressed her face into his chest. “You’re solid. I trust you.”

“You trust me with your life,” he said.

“I trust you to not let me fall,” she corrected. “Big difference.”

They stood there waiting, tangled together, talking nonsense and laughing too loud.

“Do you think people can tell we’re drunk,” she asked.

Rafe glanced down at her, then at the way she was holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her upright. “No idea.”

She looked up at him, eyes bright. “You’re lying.”

“Okay,” he admitted. “But I don’t care.”

She laughed again, shoving his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“You married me.”

She blinked. “I did.”

“You did,” he said proudly.

Their ride pulled up and they barely noticed until the driver cleared his throat. Y/N immediately hid her face against Rafe’s shoulder, laughing.

“Oops.”

Rafe opened the door, guiding her in carefully. “Sorry,” he said casually. “We’re very in love.”

The ride home was quiet in the best way. Y/N leaned into him, head on his shoulder, fingers tracing lazy shapes on his arm. Rafe kept one arm wrapped around her, thumb brushing her shoulder like he was grounding himself.

“You smell good,” she murmured.

“So do you,” he replied. “You always do.”

When they finally got inside, shoes were kicked off again, laughter echoing through the house. They made it as far as the couch before collapsing.

Y/N laid back first, pulling him down with her without a second thought. Rafe followed easily, settling on top of her, his head resting on her chest, weight warm and familiar. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other coming up to slide into her hair, fingers slowly combing through it.

She sighed, hands moving instinctively to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair, holding him there.

“Comfortable,” she teased.

“Very,” he murmured, nose pressing into her collarbone. “This is my spot.”

“You’re heavy,” she said softly.

“You like it.”

She smiled, kissing the top of his head. “I do.”

They stayed like that, breathing in sync, the room quiet except for the soft sounds of them settling into each other. His fingers moved gently through her hair, slow and repetitive, like he was memorizing her even though he already knew every part of her.

Her hand stayed at the back of his head, thumb brushing his scalp, grounding him just as much as he grounded her.

“I love you,” he said quietly, half asleep already.

She smiled down at him, arms tightening around his shoulders. “I know.”

And with him warm and solid against her, hand in her hair, heart steady against hers, she let herself drift too.

The night was young maybe a couple hours ago, but the energy died down as soon as you both entered the chill cab. You were perfectly sober. Katsuki was really the only one blank-mindedly drunk. He leaned against you, lips pressed tight as his eyelids laid heavy but still awake. 

The city lights flashed by the subtly tinted windows, sparkling across your boyfriend's features so evenly. It even grazed the cheek plopped over your head. 

At least he was comfortable.

Even while tucked under his chin, the alcohol on his body was so- palpable, not in a gross way. It was just weird of Katsuki to get this drunk. He was having a ball though. 

You smile at the memory, his laugh and the challenge in his brows as he played drinking games with strangers he’d just met.

 Youre fingers curved around his jaw, lightly grazing his skin. 

Like a magnetic pull between you two, his hand clasped around your wrist; he hummed softly, 

“hey baby.”

Sure, Katsuki was a muscular man but shit- you didn't know he was this heavy. Katsuki’s hand slipped around your waist as you shrugged him toward the door, he chuckled, “Struggling?”

You pass him a glare and smile, “obviously- you’re heavy as shit.”

Bakugo was never Bob The Builder but come on.. he didn't want to assist at all? Maybe he could carry some of his own weight? Even worse, you were walking at an incline. Youre thighs burned, when you looked up to give katsuki another glare- you caught him just..staring at you, with that warm grin. 

You stopped in a lunge-like pose and cocked your head, snorting…he was lucky he was so pretty, “what.”

“Nothing. I can't look at my girl?”

“No.” you tease as you lean him against the doorframe, digging in your pockets for the keys. Bakugo laughs as he wipes his hands against his face, “I can do whatever I want, baby.”

The keys in your jeans jingle as you pull them out and shiver against the cool air, you search for the right pair and unlock the front door with little struggle. 

“Shut your mouth, Katsuki.” 

“Make me?” A slight whining tone at the end of his words.

A smile splits your lips agape, rolling your eyes at him. “You're so annoying.” 

The warm air of your home brushes gently against your face. You usher Bakugo inside, his eyes never break away from you. His attention felt slightly overwhelming…even after a couple years of dating. 

Katsuki slides his back against the door, shutting it; a warm fluff ball slithers its tail against his clothed leg, “meow..” it cooed. He bent down, grin smoothing out as his hand brushed against your cat’s golden coat, “Meow to you too.” Katsuki's voice’s rough and dry, the cold can’t be good for him either- at least you're inside already. 

You pulled him from his armpit, “let’s lay down, yeah?” He complied and stood against your side, his smile grew back on his face with a dimple piercing his cheek, “Only if you lay with me..”

“I am.” 

“Good.”

You guide him to the bedroom, sitting him down on the edge of the bed. Just as you get on your knees to take off his shoes, he kicks them off himself- almost hitting you straight in the face. You scoff dramatically, “KATSUKI-” you whine, looking up to find him drinking from an old water bottle that's been sitting on your nightstand for days. 

He just winked at you and sighed after swallowing half the water from the bottle, “sorry, baby.”

At least he apologized. You snatched the bottle from his hands, “Thats old. Ill get you a new one.” You ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead, a pleased hum slipped from bakugo’s lips. His hands roamed to your hips, pulling you down with little effort. 

The water bottle slipped from your hand as you surrendered to your boyfriend’s neediness. 

“My love, we still have our outside clothes on..”, you tried to reason with him but you found yourself slipping into the oblivion of sleepiness. At least the lights were off. Your hands slipped into his hair once more as Katsuki pulled you against his chest, he mumbled, “That doesn't matter.”

Of course he’d say that. He coddled you even closer, like if he could merge you into one- he’d do it in an instant. You cocked your forehead against his shirt, hanging loosely to the figure of his chest; your fingers fiddled with the fabric.

With every movement you made, Bakugo hummed lowly, “I missed you today.”

You snorted but…he sounded so serious. You perched your chin on his collarbone as you looked up at him. He looked just as serious. Poor baby. Your lips curve into a frown of pity for the sweet boy, “why? I was with you all day.”

“I know you were- I just…I wanted to talk more.”

“We live together, Katsuki.”

He chuckled, bringing his hands to cup your face, staring into your eyes as water filled his own. Your eyes widened as you placed your fingers over his, “aw babyy- don't cry. Why are you getting sad?” 

You’ve never seen Bakugo this drunk so all of this was a new experience, but his face..god, it was heartbreaking. He gave you a pathetic smile, “I'm happy..not sad.” all his teeth bared to you in a warm expression. As you peppered his face in kisses, his smile only grew more; Katsuki’s eyes got heavier with every kiss planted on his cheek. 

“I know we talk every hour of the day but…I just…it's weird to admit this to my girlfriend of 3 years but- I just love you..”

Your heart thumped against your chest, beating with wild abandon across your ribs- making your skin slightly clammed and flushed. You loved it when he was sweet like this.

You passed him a gentle smile, leaning into his touch. His thumb drew circles into your skin, invisibly marking you. 

“I know that,” you mumbled against his palm as you brought it to your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his cologne still lingering on his wrist. His smell comforted you. Maybe you could understand him in that sense. His scent was comforting even after your house had been completely showered in it for years. But being with him up close was different, it meant more and it always would mean more.

When your eyes fluttered open, bakugo’s eyes were shut and his breath was shallow and easy.

He seemed pretty tired, it was good that he went to sleep fast. You pressed a chast kiss to his lips, mumbling, “goodnight, my love..”

Somehow, he still had the energy to mumble back, “I love you..” 

You stared at him now. His flaming eyes glanced at your lips—a brief moment—before snapping up to meet your gaze.

“What?” you asked coyly.

He turned away, clipping the tension between you two. He downed his fourth shot, one swift motion that left him swaying slightly. Not quite drunk.

But you were drunk. Real drunk.

You didn’t intend for this to happen. It was a long day of hero work, and he’d dragged you along to snap photos of him doing God knows what, blowing up shit and posing in his new hero gear. Strangely enough, later that day, Bakugou had the urge to dress up and grab drinks at a fancy bar—rounds were on him, he said—and so, boom, here you were. Unfortunately, you were a lightweight, and the blond himself appeared to be, too.

He downed another shot, a little too quickly. He then slapped it on the counter, hiccuping as he rubbed the glass between his fingertips.

Was he… nervous?

“(y/n),” he started, your name slurring slightly on his tongue. “You’re really fuckin’ dumb if you think I only come to you for your slightly-above-average photography skills.”

You took the compliment.

“Then what do you come for, Katsuki?”

First name basis? you hoped. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he had this sly smirk on his face, the real crooked kind that made him look both hot and stupid at the same time. His tie had come undone, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to reveal his toned forearms. God damn.

He blinked down at you in that red dress, his eyes savoring you. For once it seemed he was at a loss for words. Brashly, he tsked and found his bearings.

“I would ask you the same. Clearly I don’t pay you enough.”

“I asked you first,” you said, elbows on the counter. You leaned a little too close to him.

“You’re an idiot.”

He didn’t bother moving—in fact, his shoulder bumped into yours.

“You’re the idiot for hiring me.”

You couldn’t take it. Bakugou was so close you could smell him—the cinnamon-anise mixture, his hot breath tinged with alcohol. He kept glancing at your lips, leaning unsteadily.

And all at once you snatched his loose tie and dragged him down, his hands flying to your waist—a clash of lips against lips, tongue against tongue, teeth on teeth—your heart set ablaze, something between you both so bright and blurry and fucking amazing.

Bakugou squeezed the small of your back, sliding his hand down your ass and pressing into you. You couldn’t help but groan softly at his touch.

You pulled away after a good minute, staring intently at each other. You still had his tie in your grasp. Slowly, you let go.

“I think you answered your own question,” he said, voice husky and soft. He called another round of shots, then tipped one to his lips.

You did the same. You grinned, but suddenly faltered as you asked, “Are—are we just drunk?”

Bakugou brought his face down again, brushing his lips across yours. Teasing you. Making you wait.

“Are we just drunk?”

You answered him with a kiss. You pressed into him, tugging gently on his tie to bring him closer. “I definitely am. But this doesn’t change my feelings.” You paused. “Does it change yours?”

He hiccuped, and for the first time you noticed just how red his face was. He grinned toothily. “Hang on—me? Drunk? Fuck that. Fuck your photos. Also, can I fuck you?”

Your cheeks were on fire. “You are fucking drunk.”

Bakugou laughed this slow, slurred laugh. You’d never heard or seen him like this. It was strangely adorable.

“Whatever.” He kissed you this time. Softly. Lingering a mere inch from your lips, he said, “But to answer your question—no. It doesn’t change how I feel at all, (y/n).”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

You leaned on each other, laughing stupidly as you called a cab. The driver glanced up awkwardly at the rear view. You were all over each other in the backseat, Bakugou tugging your hips into his, your hands in his hair. Your minds swirled in a dizzying haze—but fuck it—you wanted each other. Bad.

“My place,” he spluttered out between fervent kisses.

You nodded emphatically.

Even as you both nearly fell out of the cab, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Making your way through the apartment building, halfway into the elevator he pressed you up against the wall and ground his hips into you, moaning gruffly into your ear.

“You like that baby?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your cheek mashed into the elevator mirror. In it, you could see yourselves—Bakugou rubbing crudely against you, your helpless, lolling expression.

“Yeah? Yeah?”

You nodded as he gripped your ass and bit your earlobe.

“That’s right, that’s my girl.”

The elevator pinged, and you took that opportunity to press off and clutch him by his shirt collar, pushing him out into the hall until his heels hit the wall.

“How do you like that?” you teased, already reaching for his belt buckle.

“Dumbass,” he hissed, and bent down and kissed your neck, sucking, murmuring your name against your skin. “Let me… get my keys…”

“I got ‘em,” you whispered, but instead ripped his belt off and started unbuttoning his slacks.

“Ah—ah—stop stroking, idiot…” Bakugou grunted, refusing to let out the beautiful moans you knew he had in him.

“What’s the magic word?” you insisted slyly.

He shook his head. “Fuck off.”

“Not even close, baby.”

He grunted again and finally managed to yank out his keys, now shoving you roughly into the opposite wall. He chuckled darkly. “You thought you had me, hah?”

He was able to wriggle his front door open and you both burst in, a hot, drunk mess of hands and eager hips. Bakugou tugged your dress up and rammed you against his door. He lifted you and ordered you to wrap your legs around his waist. You did as you were told, your lips crashing into his.

“Fuck me good,” you said, smirking.

“With pleasure.”

Hands wrapped securely about you, your thighs squeezing his waist, he moved his pelvis up against you and the door.

“Ah—yeah, yeah baby, you’re so good,” he murmured, placing kisses all along your chest and collarbone as he kept his stride against you.

“Oh, Katsuki…”

You couldn’t help but moan his first name. It felt so right on your lips. He felt so right inside you. Together, you were meant to be here, right here, in this exact moment.

You bit your nails into his back, clawing at the fabric of his dress shirt.

Pumping his hips into you—you grinding back, pressing tight—closer, closer—

Your voices rang in unison. Breath hitching, chests heaving, he slackened his grip on you. You chuckled softly at each other as he brought you to his bedroom. Gently, he set you down on the bed and pecked your forehead. He trailed kisses down your face, until he met each corner of your lips with his own.

“You alright, (y/n)?” He crawled over you, hands on either side of your head.

“Yeah,” you breathed, and kissed him ardently. “Better than alright.”

You started for his shirt, slipping each button free to trace your hands along his bare chest and pecs. He unhooked your bra. Together, you undressed each other and clambered into his sheets.

“Hey,” you whispered. “I gotta tell you something.”

He smirked, running a hand down your shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You flipped him over, now straddling him, grating roughly into his crotch.

“Oh, fuck! Ah—”

Your hands clamped his wrists, sliding them up over his head. Instinctively, his fingertips sparked faintly, but he gripped his hands into fists to stop himself from blowing up the damned place.

“You d-dumbass…”

You loved hearing that waver in his voice, the desperation.

“Play nice,” you breathed into his ear. “Or else.”

“Or—or else what?” he whimpered.

You kissed him sweetly.