Bakugou had always been professional in his field. Not just professional as in he was very skilled at what he did, but with those he worked with. His managers, his assistants, his employees, and the models he hired for his photography were all treated as such. There were some that he was close to as far as being friends, and his more genuine personality came out with them. He spent time together with them outside of work, got into deep conversations and felt connections, but it never went past that.
This was especially true for his models. Because he did fashion shoots, from creative projects to company or magazine photos, he had people of every gender and identity captured through his camera lens by this point in his career. It all ranged from modest, conservative sets to revealing lingerie and he couldn't deny that sometimes he had extremely attractive people come through his set. He had heard the gossip from his assistants and employees, which usually gained them a frustrated or snappy comment from the photographer.
He didn't tolerate that in his professional space, especially not when the model could be in earshot. Their comfort is what his career depended on and if they became upset, then their agency could easily come down on him with anything from contract cancellations to sexual harassment accusations. There were multiple conversations he had with his team to stop these types of conversations while they were on the clock, since he couldn't control what was said outside of employment, though he had fired people before for being disrespectful to him and the models to a severe degree.
Bakugou was a professional. So why the hell was he struggling with the feeling of extreme attraction to the woman he was currently taking photos of? It wasn't just the tightness in his chest or the sweat gathering on his hands.
He had a fucking boner.
It wasn't as if he didn't have an active sex life. He did, able to pick up women easily and had his frequent connections on his phone, so he wasn't struggling because he had been lacking pleasure. He had just screwed a woman senseless last night, for fucks sake. So why. Why, in the place that he never acted inappropriate or struggled with his professionalism, did he have a raging fucking boner, as if he hadn't been touched in weeks.
He was able to hide it easily for the moment, currently kneeling down on the floor to take low angle shots. His clothing choice helped as well, since he always wore tight fitting boxers during his shoots so that there wasn't anything moving around or visible under his shorts while up on ladders. There wasn't a chance of someone noticing it, but everything else was a problem.
The distraction could be mostly dealt with, but what was frustrating him the most was his hands. They were slick with sweat, and he was having difficulty holding the camera properly, so with a frustrated sigh, he lowered the camera from his face and wiped one of his hands on his shorts, instantly gaining the attention of his ever-observant assistant.
She quickly came over with a small towel, handing it to him. He took it gladly, letting his camera rest around his neck while cleaning his skin in his silent shame. Then, her question made his chest grow tight, knowing that this situation was probably going to screw up his cover.
"Are you hot, sir? Want me to turn down the air conditioner?"
Giving a small cough to clear his throat, Bakugou was forced to nod, needing some excuse as to why he was sweating. "Uh, yeah. Let's do that and take a break. Bring me some water too, and one for the model. Take ten!"
His booming, deep voice was sure to reach every person in the large room, who immediately began to relax and step back from their stations. Those that had to be still stretched and grabbed their own refreshments, though just like he had been this entire shoot, Bakugou's attention was set on the model.
