Katsuki Bakugo, who’s a ‘bar soap works fine,’ x Fem!Reader who’s a 20 step skincare routine enthusiast
Scrunch his nose in disgust, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist when your own extends out to his face, clear liquid running lazily down your fingers. But when you look up at him with those damn puppy dog eyes, he freezes. The way you’re looking up at him, pouting innocently, your voice coming out more like a plea then a challenge, he’s rendered helpless.
“let me moisturise your face, kats.”
His grip on your wrists loosen, sighing softly at the irresistible sweetness in your voice.
He caves when you smile— one of warmth and familiarity, his resolve disappearing instantly.
“fucking— fine, do it before I change my mind.”
And the way you practically squeal in delight only serves to make his head spin faster. he’ll huff and puff as your hands delicately smooth over his face, the cold serum on your fingertips coating his skin.
You comment harmlessly, and he tenses, maybe out of annoyance, or possibly embarrassment.
But at the reassurance of a soft kiss pressed to his jaw, he relaxes again, letting himself lean into your touch as your fingers run over his dangerously chiseled features.
His eyes fluttering closed as he grumbles, but he doesn’t pull away.
Once you’re finished, your palms wrap around his cheeks, squishing them together as you turn your attention to his now slightly glistening face in the mirror.
He grumbles in response, feigning annoyance in a futile attempt to conceal the blush creeping across his cheeks, but his hands still snake around you, finding solace on the skin of your hips.
His eyes follow suit, gaze fixated on the reflection of you and the sight of your hands still on his cheeks, like he’s trying to memorise this moment. you.
He presses a deliberate kiss to the side of your forehead.
“not as pretty as you, dumbass.”
