in a bit of a pickle

The stylist beside him lets out a sigh of defeat, but he pays her no mind, eyes fixed solely on you.

You raise a brow as someone jogs by behind him and makes a one minute signal with their pointer finger, a clipboard clasped to their chest.

Someone else sneaks in between the two of you, quickly clipping a microphone to Bakugou’s hero suit. He nearly growls.

Rolling your eyes, you step forward into his space, and you catch the slight tick of his jaw as you do so. “I don’t really care what you want, Katsuki. Your agency is paying me to keep you on a leash.”

He scoffs, adjusting one of his gloves. “You’d have to get a collar on me first.”

Smiling at him sweetly, you reach out and drag up the mask that’s covering his eyes so that it’s pushing back his hair instead. “Your ratings always go up when you do the headband thing with your mask, you know. You look good like this.”

His face screws up in a myriad of emotions, his mouth opening as if to keep arguing, but suddenly he’s being ushered out past the backstage curtain for his interview before he can say anything else.

And amongst the general cheering that accompanies him as he walks out, there’s a distinct sound from the fangirls in the crowd when they see he’s got his mask pushed up.

smth smth he was always a stable presence when you would visit their household, hoping to spend time with his sister. it was he who would often greet you upon your arrival, he who would ask if you wanted a snack or maybe some tea. the constancy of his presence, the pleasant sound of his laugh, the unwavering attention he'd offer when you spoke—all of it becoming a comfort for you.

TOM GLYNN-CARNEY

doesn't matter if it begins to be something hot and sexy with a certain goal. to take care of them, to be at the other party's hands at your most vulnerable. to tend to someone when they're helpless and sick, cannot move a limb on their own, reliant on your help.

gently massaging the scalp to your perfect liking and need. finding the spots that make you melt, ones that make you contract your whole body, applying perfectly calculated pressure to spots that each need it.

dragging your nails down their body, feeling every little bump of prickly skin, their curves, dips, fat and flesh as your finger tips graze against their skin. how they get goosebumps at certain spots and shiver at others.

gently scrubbing their skin, feeling them ease into you, melt into you slowly. water pouring down on the both of you and the temperature is a long forgotten convern whether its 'perfect' to one's liking or not. all the coldness they require comes from your lithe touches- all the warmth you need is provided from their body. all the barreers down, relaxed and easing into one another, not a worry in sight, still a little flustered. hands roam and massage long enough that this feels like the only moment the two of you have ever existed, a small moan escaping their lips.

Will you take Egg to squire?