Hired Distraction

Let's Talk About Sex, Baby

Summary:

They need to talk boundaries, like responsible adults. Inevitably, though, they drift into another adult situation.

Notes:

Sorry this took a hot minute, I have irl stuff just like everyone else lmao. Hope you guys like this!

Katsuki had been...kind, in one word. Mind boggling, heart meltingly so.

Cradled against the hard planes of his chest, Izuku had apparently slept away the afternoon—all his energy drained from the overwhelming orgasm wringed out of his body. Never once did the gentle movements of his boss typing up reports or organizing documents on his desk wake him up. Bakugou had gone on with his day, mostly, but...

But when the clock would strike on a new hour, signaling his mandated break, he hadn't plowed through it with work like he would have in the past. Instead, Katsuki pushed it all aside and focused on the snoring, soft mess in his lap. Forest green hair more wild than usual framed Izuku's face, haloing around the top of his head where it was uncomfortably mashed into the juncture of his right arm and the side of his chest. Despite how his body likely made for a poor pillow, the man slept with a faint smile on his face. Lured in by the adorable sight Deku made, Katsuki simply...watched him. Intense rubies traced the soft curves of his face, the opposite to the sharp cut of Bakugou's own jaw, and counted the innumerable freckles dusting his cheeks.

Invisible to him before but now lightly visible were the subtle crow's feet at the corner of his shut eyes. Fair, green eyelashes fluttered downwards, pointing to faint acne scars he never would've even noticed had he not been so close. A petite dimple formed from the way Izuku snuggled into his chest further, turning his face in and snuffling into the fabric rich in the blond's scent. And like that, Katsuki spent his day imagining the way each mark on Deku's small frame had been formed.

A tiny, gangly Izuku tripping at some unknown playground in his own excitement, scraping his elbows again and again until they were left forever unchanged—rougher, slightly more pronounced than the rest of his fair skin. That petite boy playing with his mother, maybe playing heroes and villains, and laughing and laughing and laughing until it was ingrained into the corners of his eyes. Smiling wide at new friends, at people passing on the street, at everyone, everywhere, all the time until the memory of that innocent, raw happiness had been hammered into his cheeks, indenting them. Izuku, who was flawless to him from afar but deeply human and just as enchanting up close, seemed like the kind of person who would have just simply been a good kid.

Bakugou's large hands finally found their way unto Izuku later in the day, staying above the mussed collar of his shimmering, flowy shirt. Slowly, he framed the face mushed against his pectoral, brushing his thumb over the swell of his cheek. The skin cupped in his hand was warm to the touch and as soft as the view Deku made, sniffing in his sleep and squirming closer to leech even more heat off of his body. Katsuki chuckled low under his breath, amused, but the faint grin on his face dropped the longer he stared at the way his rough hand dwarfed the other man.

Imagining Izuku as the trademark good kid was easy when Bakugou would have served as the antithesis. He was brash, and loud, and full of anger even as a child—and for the longest time, he felt like he couldn't be blamed for it. It was clear to him even at three, four, five years old that the adults all around him fawned over him purely because of his name. They jumped to praise him for the slightest thing, even if what he did was at the cost of another kid's smile. Young Katsuki was a bundle of hate and toxicity, with a bloated ego and a surplus of misplaced aggression. He was the bad kid, and he had been rewarded for it all the way up until college.