Blue Dandelions

Prettiest Muse | Direct

Summary:

-

"Aren't you a treat, dear."

"I really do love you, Katsuki Bakugou," Izuku smiles sweetly, but his lip twitches with the corner of his right eye, knuckles white as he tries to remedy the strain of his back by squirming in his seat. "But if you don't finish up your goddamn painting and free me from being your subject, I'm afraid I will never volunteer for these boudoir sessions ever again."

Or:

Katsuki couldn't resist painting his freckled beauty of a husband.

Notes:

I have not updated because I've been unapologetically twisting and turning over this concept 👍🏼

It started with silk.

"Kacchan?" Izuku yawns, doe eyes fluttering as he feels the warm kiss of his husband's lips drag down from his neck to his collar, waking him from a dreamless sleep. He squirms sleepily when the blond does not reply, whining coaxed into light giggling when the kissing gets more insistent and bruising against the valley of his chest. "Get off me, you big oaf, it's too early!"

"Well, if someone didn't look so delectable, I wouldn't be doing this." It was accusatory and playful, mumbled against his right pec, and Izuku's eyes slit open enough to find Katsuki laying his head on him, golden hair shiny in the sunlight.

Izuku gasps when a wet warmth swipes along his bare breast, goosebumps racing down his arms as he swats weakly at his husband's advances.

"Behave," he pouts, and the man rolls his eyes but complies, standing up after a few shuffling. Izuku rouses with him, silk sheets falling from delicate milky shoulders, unraveling and revealing him like a flower's petals peeling away to showcase a beautiful center.

Katsuki's breath is taken away for yet another hundredth time as he gazes down at his beautiful husband.

Said man was oblivious to his musings, yawning like a kitten as he stretched his arms over his head before leaning a cheek on Katsuki's open palm. He sought warmth like a moth to a flame, vulnerable as he lets the blond man cup his cheek.

"Look at you, having no idea what the hell you do to me." Katsuki shakes his head, straightening up as he places a chaste kiss on Izuku's cheek. "I need to run to the studio today. Secretary's buggin' me about the exhibition next month," he grimaces, and Izuku, the sweetheart he is, cooes and nuzzles up to him like a bunny. "Inspiration's been dog shit too.."

He trails off his scoff, eyes raking down Deku's delicate figure enveloped in white sheets, looking like an angel in pre-raphaelite paintings. His lashes fanned, curls framing his cherub cheeks and—

" Oh ." Katsuki exhales, weight lifting off of his shoulders as he feels the fire on his fingertips ignite, hands twitching minutely. Izuku looks up at him, tilting his head with curiosity as the blond cups his chin with newfound reverence .

"Why don't you come with me to the studio, baby?"

-

Painting has always been a thing Katsuki had done.

It's been a thing when he started finger painting chunky animals and trees as a four year old, when he used pastels to draw the sun in the corner of the paper at six, when he, at the age of ten, won two awards for best in art, jumbled along with his various actually academic prizes. It was a thing, especially when his mother who saw the spark and the special little something, hired private teachers from the best universities to help shape him and bought only the best materials she could get for her aspiring little boy.