Just Kiss Me | DkBk
Pairing: Midoryia Izuku/Bakugo Katsuki
Fandom: My hero academia
Word count: 3,844
teen+ | complete | 1/1
Read on Ao3!
Katsuki and Izuku finding their synchronicity after they get together takes some time.
After their second Official Date, Izuku walks Katsuki to his dorm and, like they had done most of the night, held hands the whole way. They hadn't told any of the other kids in their class yet, but they weren't exactly keeping quiet about it either. It didn't really matter what people thought or who knew, the only people they wanted to tell was their parents, something they'd be doing this upcoming weekend at a joint family dinner that they had planned.
Anyways, Izuku walks Katsuki to his door — something they had only argued about briefly — and while the shorter teen waited about three seconds for Katauki to unlock his door, he blurted out: "Can I kiss you?"
Katsuki drops his keys entirely. "What?"
"What?" Izuku asks, taking half a step back. "Do you not want to—"
The blond is quick to shut that self conscious track down really fast. "No, I have been dying to kiss you, but.. I don't want you to kiss me. I want to do it."
Izuku, feeling the oh-so-familiar flair of competitiveness that will most likely never go away no matter what their relationship evolves into (not that he would want it any other way), levels Katsuki with a low-brow stare. Ignoring the fact that he has to look up to make eye contact, Izuku crosses his arms over his chest and doesn't look away.
Seeming to remember his keys, Katsuki looks away first and bends down to pick them up. They don't mention the blush tainting the sides of his neck when he straightens up.
"I just thought, you know, that I would be the one to kiss you."
It isn't phrased like a question, it doesn't sound like a question, but Izuku knows that Katsuki is searching for an answer by the way his bright red eyes bound back and forth across Izuku's face.
"Why does it matter?" Izuku asks earnestly.
He gets a shrug in response.
After a second or two of neither of them saying anything, Katauki decides to finally unlock his door and he takes a tentative step inside.
Izuku, still not over the want to kiss his boyfriend, follows him so they're still standing next to each other. "Will you not let me kiss you then?"
Katsuki's eyes widen for just a second before his familiar scowl is back, "I said I wanted to do it."
Izuku makes an exasperated noise and his arms come up for a second only to slam back down to his sides. He isn't actually upset or irritated at all, he just finds Katsuki's antics a little amusing sometimes. He likes to act a bit huffy sometimes because it gets on Katsuki's nerves (obviously nothing he would use in a serious situation).
So he can't help but push a little, confident that he knows the other boy enough to know when to back off. "And you still haven't given me a reason why it matters."
"Because it just does—"
Izuku's grin widens a little at Katsuki's obvious struggle, something vicious flares up in his chest and he feels the euphoria of having this strange hold over Katsuki. It fuels the confidence he needs to push out his next line, "so do it."
It is Katsuki's turn to take a step back, further into his room, and Izuku follows him. The door closes behind the green-haired-boy and the air between them gets thicker. Izuku feels his pulse spike in the best kind of way. Something about being in such a charged environment alone with Kacchan has his body reacting like this.
"I— uh," Katsuki says smartly. He looks around wildly as if he cannot hold Izuku's gaze.
Which is crazy because where did Izuku's usually confident Kacchan go? One who looked danger in the eye and barely blinked, let alone stare down at his feet in submission.
It fanned an all-consuming flame inside of Izuku. He loved this feeling, could already feel himself growing addicted.
For tonight, though, he decides to back off. He raises his hands in the air in mock surrender and looks down at the ground himself, watching in his peripheral as Katsuki’s head snaps back up. Katsuki only stutters when he feels backed into a corner, so Izuku caves tonight.
He does give the blond an ultimatum.
"I will back off tonight, and I am sorry for springing it on you like this," he starts with, reaching out to take one of Katsuki's lethal hands in his. Kacchan's hands are so soft, Izuku thinks pleasantly, running his thumb along the line of knuckles on the back of his hand. "However," he draws it out, waiting until they are making eye contact once more to finish, "if you don't kiss me by the end of the third date, Kacchan, the fourth one will end with me sweeping you off of your feet."
Katsuki's sharp inhale is subtle, and if it were anyone else in the room besides Izuku it would have gone unnoticed.
"You're serious."
"Extremely," Izuku agrees. "I want that kiss, Kacchan."
○●○●○●○
Their third date is scheduled to take place in two days. It is a Friday. They're going to dinner and then going roller skating at a rink they had found while on patrol for Endeavor's agency. Izuku had said he'd never been and Katsuki said if they did that he'd "wipe the floor with his nerd ass" so naturally, they planned the date.
Their dinner is just going to be an American-themed burger and fry joint about a block from the rink and then they were going to end the night by taking the train back to UA. It is the first night off they've had in a while and Izuku can't help but think it is time well spent.
And their date does go so well. The food is pleasant, although Izuku is very verbal about how Kacchan's cooking is better, and roller skating is fun!
Katsuki does try to tease his boyfriend a little bit at first when Izuku can't figure out how to balance or accelerate very well in the bulky boots-with-wheels. But then the blond comes up behind him and guides him, with warm hands on his hips, and he teaches him stride for stride.
Eventually he gets the hang of it and doesn't need Katsuki or the wall as a clutch.
"Look at you go, nerd, you're doing it!" he cheers, laughter clear in his booming voice.
Some of the rare other patrons glance their way, but Izuku just laughs and races over to Katsuki as smoothly as he can (which isn't very smooth at all).
When Izuku gets close enough, he reaches out and grasps a chunk of Katsuki's shirt sleeve, using it to pull himself even closer. They roll together on the smooth wooden floor, breathing the same air.
Izuku thinks about kissing Katsuki then, too. His eyes trace the plush pink flesh of his lips and he automatically licks his own because he wants to be ready in case Kacchan chooses this moment to steal their first kiss.
"Ahem, umm," Katsuki clears his throat, eyes following the movement of Izuku's tongue.
The air in between them is hot, the tension rolls down Izuku's spine in a pleasurable way. The anticipation of their first kiss is making the moment sweeter.
"You shouldn't lean so far forward when you're moving like that, or else you might fall flat on your face." And as he's talking, he is moving his hands down Izuku's arms to disconnect where the shorter of the two have them connected. He moves behind Izuku and gives him a light push — hands deliciously squeezing his hips again — towards the center of the rink.
It is a rejection, but that is okay. Izuku convinces himself that if they had had their first kiss while he was on unstable footing he would have fallen flat on his ass.
Katsuki still had time to kiss him, they still had plenty of the night left.
That is what Izuku kept telling himself through out the night; when Katsuki didn't kiss him as they walked out hand-in-hand from the rink; when he wasn't kissed while they stood waiting for the train; or when they got off the train and the station was nearly empty; and once more as they stood outside the large doors to their dorm building.
"Kacchan..." Izuku sighs, running out of excuses. He knows Katsuki wants to kiss him, he's seen the way those illuminating red eyes have traced the shape of his mouth over and over through out the night. He just doesn't understand why he won't.
"Let's go," Katsuki says, once again grabbing Izuku's hand — an act that had seemed so awkward and huge when they'd first done it, but now was so casual and heart-warming — and dragging him inside.
Izuku suspects that Katsuki had known what Izuku was thinking about and wanted nothing to do with that conversation. Izuku doesn't make any excuses for that, and it does a hurt a little. He doesn't let himself think about it for too long, though.
Especially when Katsuki doesn't let go of his hand when they enter the building and he drags the two of them immediately to the stairwell.
Izuku thinks he might hear someone inquire about who is at the door, but he doesn't even have time to register who the voice even is before he is yanked from the area.
"Kacchan, what—?"
"Come on, Izuku," Katsuki huffs, tugging him along faster. They take the stairs quickly, going higher and higher than either of their dorms. Izuku's never been this far up; truth be told, he didn't even know they went this high up.
"Where are we...?" Izuku pants once they've reached the top there is nothing but a door left in front of them.
"You'll see," he grins, annoyingly not as out of breath.
Izuku keeps his mouth shut and follows Katsuki through the door.
It is still summer time, so even though the sun is touching the horizon and most of the sky has begun to darken, the air is still warm enough that neither of them have the need for a jacket. Izuku runs on the warmer side anyway; he always has, but OFA seems to have accentuated it more.
Three seconds after walking through the door, Izuku stops thinking about the temperature of the air immediately. Because holy shit they're on the roof!
The sun is setting and the city skyline is gorgeous from up here, nearly stealing all of the breath from Izuku's lungs. It is no wonder it takes the boy a couple of moments to look around and notice the blanket and large bean-bag chair sitting a couple of feet from the edge.
"Kacchan, what is this?" Izuku says dreamily.
Said blond just grins, holding his hand a little more delicately now as he leads him over to the chair. He answers before plopping down into the chair himself, "the rest of our date, duh."
He makes a motion with both hands that Izuku has to convince himself aren't grabby hands, and gets a hold of Izuku and pulls him onto his lap. Katsuki's legs are, unfairly, much longer than his and so he fits on his lap easily.
They haven't really cuddled a ton, or like.. ever, so this is very special. So special in fact, that Izuku forgets all about their kiss and his ultimatum.
He just lets his boyfriend wrap his arms around his waist and feel the heat seep into his clothes from all angles. They eventually get comfortable enough to both lean back so that Izuku can feel Katsuki's fluttery breath on his neck and his back is pressed flush with his chest. Together they watch the sun finish setting and the sky change its array of colors.
"This okay?" Katsuki asks, voice close enough to run a shiver down Izuku's arms.
Thinking that it is a delayed question about their sitting arrangement, Izuku absent-mindedly consents. He is so comfortable here, wrapped in Kacchan's arms and watching the Earth's daily artistic display.
His mind completely stops when he feels not-dry lips press into the side of his face, bordering his cheek and jawline.
He freezes, holding the breath he sucks in on reflex. That was definitely the press of his boyfriend's mouth and—
"Izuku," is murmured in a tone he didn't even know Katsuki was capable of.
Instantly, Izuku turns his head to the side enough to make eye contact with him. He sees the same flame of desire, attraction, wanting in Katsuki's eyes that he's sure reflect back in his.
Izuku's always been told his eyes are a window into his head; showing all his emotions and thoughts seemingly before Izuku even fully experienced them. In comparison, Katsuki heard that his weren't as open growing up and he learned to hide behind his default scowl. However, Izuku has learned to read them as easily as people have always been able to crack his own. He sees what Katsuki feels and he knows how to read this boy as if he was written clear on a page of paper.
"Kacchan," he whispers so softly his voice barely makes a noise.
Katsuki is staring at his mouth again but not moving.
Izuku sees the push he needs, so he gives in.
"Kiss me, Kacchan," he whispers again, his voice more breathy than usual.
Katsuki doesn't say anything, but he doesn't move either. Izuku holds his breath for a couple of seconds, wanting to move those couple of centimeters closer but he promised the blond that he would give him tonight to make the move.
"Izu..." Katsuki starts with the first syllable of his name but his voice and his courage dies shortly after.
Izuku lets out the breath he was holding when they settle back into the chair, both looking out towards the sun again. The green-haired boy closes his eyes for the moment and takes in the wave of disappointment he feels at yet another almost kiss.
He has no idea what Katsuki's hang-up is about needing to be the one to initiate the kiss, but Izuku knows how much worse it would be if he were to bypass that by kissing him first.
But even he can only be so patient.
"Why can't you kiss me, Kacchan? Do you want to?" He tries to not let too much of his disappointment seep into his voice; he's not entirely too sure he is that upset when he doesn't really succeed.
The hands pressed into his abdomen tense into a fist and he feels more than hears the other's sigh.
"Of course I want to," he says, tone lowered with emotions that Izuku is scared to sift through.
"Then why don't you!" Izuku is still facing away, and he is sitting up so that the only points of contact between them are Katsuki's hands around his middle and his ass sitting on strong thighs.
"Because I can't, I thought I could but I just can't make that first move no matter how much I want to!"
Izuku doesn't say anything for a second and Katsuki takes it as his invitation to keep going.
"I know I can do it, I know it is just a simple kiss, but I have wanted it for so long so what if I'm not good at it! And so there is a part of me that just wants to let you do it, but I swear, Izuku, I want to kiss you. I want to so bad."
Izuku turns around and sees red eyes set ablaze. He twists his legs around so that they hang off the side of his boyfriend's lap and the hand that had been resting on his stomach is now touching his back and Izuku takes his right hand in his own.
He takes the time to adjust his position so he has time to clear his tone of any emotions except patience and so that it is easier to look at Katsuki's face.
"So why can't I kiss you? Why does it matter?"
Katsuki's head falls forward and thunks heavily against Izuku's shoulder. "I don't even know how to explain it... I just, know stuff about myself I guess. I know you will probably have to take the initiative more often than not... I mean hell, look at how we got together—"
He's referencing the fact that it has been Izuku to take that leap forward and ask the other out. They'd been a mess for too long and Izuku had been hiding from his own feelings for too much long; so as soon as he had them sorted out (and came to the conclusion that he is and has been very much in love with Katsuki Bakugo) he approached the blond.
Izuku wants to also ask why that matters, but he doesn't want to sound like a broken record or anything. So he just lets Katsuki keep going.
"—and I told myself halfway through our first date that I was going to be the one to kiss you because I wanted to do that for us..." he prompts his chin on Izuku's shoulders now, but his eyes stay closed. "And I think about finally doing it and I just get.. nervous? scared? I don't know, but whatever it is it fucking sucks."
Izuku bobs his head up in down in a nod, trying to decipher what the hell it is that Katsuki is talking about.
He thinks that Izuku is going to have to initiate a lot of what they do, so he wants to be the one to make the first move when it comes to their first kiss.
Does he think that Izuku would mind being the one to initiate things?
Not once has Izuku had second thoughts about being the one to ask Katsuki out, nor has he minded being the one to grab his hand or pull his chair out for him on their first dinner. He likes being a gentleman for Katsuki and he likes taking those first steps; especially if he knows that it would be this stressful for Katsuki if their roles were reversed.
So he simply says this. "Do you think that I actually mind making the first move? Because I think I kind of like doing that."
Katsuki's eyes flicker open and pour over Izuku's face, as if checking if he was telling the truth. Izuku has nothing but honesty shining back.
"Really? Or are you just saying that?"
"Kacchan," Izuku says, bringing his left hand up to cup the blond's jaw, not missing the instant reaction of fluttering eyelids and the way he leans into the touch. "First of all, I wouldn't lie to you about something like this. And second, I definitely like doing it.
"Just like when I asked you out or took your hand for the first time, I like how you act surprised at first and then you show this adorable little pleased look on your face whenever I do something you like. Of course I'd want to see that more often!"
Kacchan, just as Izuku had predicted he would, widens his eyes for a second at the compliments and then a blush darkens the bridge of his nose cutely. God, when did Izuku start getting to see such an endearing side of his boyfriend?
"You sure it isn't weird?" Katsuki gruffs after a moment or two, looking away.
Izuku doesn't love that so he moves his hand so it is cupping more of his chin and forces him to be looking at his face and not behind him. "Do I look like someone who thinks that is weird?"
"Oh fuck," Katsuki breathes. And then after a moment, "okay."
"Okay?" Izuku cocks his head to the side and doesn't understand for a second.
"Okay," Katsuki echoes. "You can kiss me... please?"
For reasons Izuku thinks he knows but doesn't want to put forth the effort to think about it at this moment because it is definitely not the time, he feels shivers race down his spine at the way Katsuki's voice absolutely cracked at the pleading. And he just knows he will be hearing more of that shakey tone asking him to for things; it may not be for a while, but the thoughts he's been edging on since their last date are becoming more likely. Izuku likes having power over Katsuki and maybe, just maybe, Katsuki might be into giving that power to him.
That is for later them to figure out, though. For now? He isn't going to look this gift horse in the face and instead will be taking his small victories.
The hand already touching Katsuki's face goes back to cupping his jaw and his thumb traces the line of his sharp cheekbone. His touch is gentle and Izuku does not miss the way his lips part as his face relaxes further.
"Of course, baby," Izuku murmurs, leaning in to press their mouths together.
Not only is this their first kiss, but it is Izuku's first time kissing anyone. Pressing his lips against the warmth of Katsuki's and feeling his breath fanning over his face when they pull apart a second later is all dream-like; its been one kiss and he already knows he is addicted.
Also the pet name that had effortless fell from his mouth? That was a first for them too and he doesn't immediately get his head blasted off so he thinks it was a success.
Another win for Izuku is the way Katsuki tries to chase after his mouth when he pulls away, Izuku having to actually hold him back with the hand on his jaw.
"How much do you want to do right now?" Izuku asks, needing to know if just simple kisses were the agenda tonight.
"Wait do you want to do more?"
The almost fearful look in the blond's eyes has Izuku chuckling. "No, I didn't mean that, we're still a long way off from that... I just meant kissing-wise. Just one for tonight?"
"Oh, uh.." Katsuki looks down at their still-entwined fingers resting on Izuku's lap and he squeezes them reassuringly. "We can kiss some more, but maybe not too much?"
Izuku smiles and leans forward to give a sweet kiss to the tip of Katsuki's nose, startingly the blond into looking back up at the greenette's face. "Thank you for telling me that."
Katsuki doesn't respond, but his eyes do drift back down to Izuku's lips. So the shorter boy doesn't keep him waiting any longer and goes in for another sweet kiss. And another. And another. And another.
By the end of the night, their lips are sticky with slightly combined spit and hearts full of affection for each other. And yes, Izuku definitely walks Katsuki back to his dorm room at the end of the night and leaves with one last kick peck on his lips.
~~
//the end! for now 👀
I want to explore more of this dkbk dynamic that I've got going on, so feel free to drop some ideasss
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cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism
as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.
Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.
it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.
“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.
“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”
his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.
and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.
the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.
the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.
“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.
“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.
he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.
“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.
“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.
“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.
“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.
“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.
you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.
is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?
“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”
you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?
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In honor of me turning 25 yesterday, I present you with: Husband! Bakugou: birthday edition.
This man could care less about his own birthday, so in regards to that aspect, he kinda just lumps all birthdays in the same 'lame' category. Not really one to celebrate or make a big deal. But ever since you came into his life, he tries really hard to make an effort for you.
However, you've noticed something. In all the years you've been together, not once has he ever gotten you a birthday card. Or any kind of card for that matter. Anniversaries, Valentine's Day, Christmas: they're all the same to him.
But surely he'd get you a birthday card, right?
Wrong.
Sure, there's the practical but useful gift (because he doesn't believe in getting gifts for the sheer purpose of just getting it) and the amazing birthday dinner he always makes you, but never a card. And it isn't so much that you mind, but part of you wonders why he never bothers with a card.
However, this is the same man who still sometimes struggles to open up and be affectionate and open with his feelings. It doesn't matter how long you've been together. He will always have trouble being 100% in regards to his emotions. Granted, he's gotten much better about it, but if he has trouble being honest and up front in person a good majority of the time, do you really think he'd bare his entire soul in a card?
Kaminari would most likely get a PHD in astrophysics before something like that would ever happen.
But when he sees you at the surprise party everyone got together to throw for you, and watches as you open your birthday cards from friends and family, he can't help but marvel at how soft your expression gets and how your eyes sparkle at the sheer thoughtfulness of them all.
Not one to be left out, this spurs him into action, and he decides to up the game.
So imagine with me that he comes home from a super long patrolling shift. He's tired. He's grimy. He just wants a bath, clean set of clothes, warm meal, and an eight to ten hour appointment with the bed. But he's put all that on the backburner because he sees you bounding up to him to greet him as walks through the door.
And the look on your face when you realize he's holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, along with....an envelope? It's enough to make him forget about his crappy day.
"Happy birthday," he says, all but shoving the items he got for you into your hands. You don't say anything. You just stare at the card, at him, then back at the card.
"You gonna open it or what?" He asks, neatly placing his combat boots by your much tinier shoes on the mat at the entrance of the doorway.
He follows you into the kitchen as you set the flowers down to put in a vase for later. His heart leaps in his chest as you carefully peel back the top layer of the envelope and take out the card.
He got it at the same store he bought the flowers from. They served all the cheesy, gimmicky, run-of-the-mill dumb birthday cards, but he grabbed the one that reminded him most of you. Sure, it had the usual, "Hope your birthday is as amazing as you" nonsense at the front, but what has him nervously tapping his fingers against the counter is what he wrote on the inside.
"(Your name),
I've never been good with this sort of stuff. It's stupid and overrated, but I know you like it because you're a sappy little shit. So happy birthday or whatever.
Another year under your belt, but you're still the same dumbass you've always been. Good thing I like dumbasses.
I would say that I hope you like the flowers but I know you will because they're your favorite and I picked them out.
Happy birthday, again.
Love you.
-Katsuki."
He's pretty proud of himself until he sees thick tears streaming down your cheeks. He rounds the island in your kitchen and is on you in a second.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying? Do you hate it? I'm sorry--" You stop his torrent of apologies with a finger pressed to his lips.
"I love it," you whisper, bringing your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him close. "I love it."
Hesitantly, he relaxes enough to cradle you to his chest. "You mean it?"
You nod your head. "It's perfect." You tilt your chin up to look at him, cupping his cheek. "You're perfect."
He gently thumbs away any stray tears. Pressing a tender kiss to your lips, he mumbles in true Katsuki Bakugou fashion, "Happy birthday, dumbass."
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