imagining greyscale reader tip toeing n snooping around the apartment while katsuki is gone just to find that it’s essentially an ultra expensive ikea show room with protein powder and supplements lmao
SNOOPING
— bakugou x reader
greyscale au, just texts between you and bkg.
he gave notes to an interior designer and they built his apartment from scratch for him. also yn has been over to his a handful of times on hookup terms. after a date, sex and home. or bakugou calling you when you’re already in the city and you come over to his for sex and goes. so you’ve never actually looked around his house minus his bed, making out against his front door and his en-suite bathroom. otherwise he’s ALWAYS at yours.
after he leaves for work you wait 15 minutes to shower, trying to get the feeling back into your legs, lowkey surprised that an orgasm has halved your hangover in two. you’re feeling considerably better and you still haven’t brushed your teeth yet. bakugou’s got a gorgeous perfect pressure double shower head shower which also makes you wonder what he thinks about your weak, having to hold the handle at an angle to work shower. you won’t admit you sniffed bakugou’s shower gel and immediately thought about touching yourself to it. instead you smothered it all over yourself with the new loofa he left out for you. you think you’re going to eat bakugou alive when you see him next.
it feels like a spa. spending an extra fifteen minutes in the shower and wrapping yourself in a fluffy ivory towel. smothering yourself in a random tub of cream you found till you realise he’s got about five of the same one. you try to find the brand and underneath read, USED BY DYNAMIGHT! turns out to be true because he does smell like this actually, when you sit on his lap and stuff your nose in his neck.
you walk back into his bedroom for clothes till you realise the only ones you can see is your top and miniskirt from last night, neatly folded on a chair. rich people don’t keep clothes in their bedroom. you laugh to yourself, walking to the room over to his walk in closet. multiple drawers, six doors of wardrobes. he’s got caps and snapbacks on display. a table in the middle of the room with a clear glass surface where you can see all his jewellery. you could pay off your student loans with a few of these earrings. necklaces. it looks like a store in here. you clutch the top of your towel and open every single door and drawer, with the idea to find clothes for yourself but you’re just snooping. he can’t expect to leave you unattended if you’re not going to snoop. two wardrobes are hero gear. full of metal scraps and gaunlets all neatly organised. you open the last drawer and there’s a row of grenades. you shut that draw immediately.
you pull on another clean shirt of his, a white one with DYNAMIGHT in grey font on the breast and branded underwear that you roll up four times. you stare at yourself in his floor length mirror, hands on your hips. he’s got a photo booth strip tucked in the frame of the mirror. you and him, from a few weeks ago. you kissing his cheek, him kissing your lips, you with your arms wrapped around his neck smiling at the camera while he grins at you and the last is you pretending to bite his cheek. you look like a couple. you look like his girlfriend in his underwear and tshirt. branded by him. it’s the only photo in his house you’ve seen so far.
it scares you so you grab that breakfast sandwich he left you in his bedroom and start to walk around his apartment. the colour scheme is a soft masculine grey. minimalist. tidy with pops of white or black. the greyscale theme is calming, not as overstimulating as yours can be to a newcomer. you feel relaxed, walking on clouds in bakugou’s thick white socks. his apartment is massive, so much open space, stupidly clean and everything is top of the range.
you fiddle with the heating, gasping at the immediate effect of heat under your feet. not even bothering with slippers. you see he’s got this fancy airfryer so you even pop your breakfast sandwich in there to stare at the kitchen. an expensive smoothie maker, coffee machine, he’s got a kitchen aid in a cupboard. one shelf full of protein powder tubs. opening his fridge to find smoothies, jars of sea moss and meat. preseasoned chicken probably for his dinner tonight in a tupperware container. you think that’s adorable. imagining him alone in his kitchen, preparing dinner for the next day.
he’s got these expensive fruit bars you see in the stores that always way out of your budget.
can i try one of these
img.024
i’ve never tried one before
70 seconds later.
Yeah take anything
Don’t have to ask baby
you take out your hot sandwich from the airfryer and take a fruit bar. it’s as tasty as you thought and you’re upset you can’t afford them on your wage. also you’ve never seen the man drink coffee and he’s got a… you pull out your phone to google. a £2400 coffee machine. what the hell.
his living room looks like a bachelors pad. every gaming console underneath the massive television. maybe a 60 inch? 70? insane. turning the tv on and it’s the news because of course it is. he also has cable. who the hell pays for cable? you can only assume he’s got all the streaming services possible. you clutch the blanket over his sofa and it’s this knitted blanket that you know costs hundreds.
your favourite part is sneaking into his office. you refuse to touch any paperwork because it’s terrifying to think you might mess anything up.
but in there he’s got a wall of awards. trophies, medals, the first ever prototype of his figure. a little five inch dynamight. you trace your finger over the engraved text of either dynamight or bakugou katsuki. in awe. you know what he does for work, you couldn’t miss it but you’ve never actually considered how great he is at it. framed certificates for him being in the top 5 for years in a row. even a fan mail letter in colourful crayons written by a kid. turns out bakugou is sentimental, even though he loves to tell you he’s not.
now you see another photo in his house. a picture of him, his parents and the fucking prime minister. again, what the hell. he looks bored in the photo, deadpan stare down the camera lens that turns you on. jaw sharp, eyes tired, in a structured black suit. you snap a photo of the photo with your phone. his parents are adorable, they look just like him. obviously they do but you can see his eyes are from his mum, hair texture from his dad and that blonde is his mums. facial structure, glasses and his height from his dad. katsuki’s mentioned once that he wanted you to meet them, the first time he kinda asked you to be his girlfriend. you wonder if they would like you.
then he’s got a magazine rack, similar to yours at home, and it’s got all of his covers. every single one he’s ever done. you notice a bunch of duplicates, dated back to a month before you met him. you want one. he’s the cover of Heroes Weekly. you want it. you’ve never seen this one before. he’s standing arms folded, smirking in his hero gear. should you text him? that’s embarrassing to ask for one of his covers, especially since he usually just leaves them at your apartment in an attempt to be nonchalant. you know he does it on purpose. you sneak one under your arm and take a bite of your sandwich.
you circle around his desk. a fancy chair that you sit in and recline back. then you wonder if bakugou’s the type of guy who will know someone’s been in his chair. oh well. he’s got two dual monitors and you can only imagine gaming on this machine. would he let you? he probably has the prime ministers email address.
beside the papers you refuse to touch… you put your stolen bakugou Heroes Weekly cover on the desk and your sandwich on top. he’s got picture frames. one big frame with about fifteen spaces to fit photos in. it’s something you’d have in your bathroom, on top of your toilet full of photos of your friends. or in the kitchen on top of your faulty fireplace. it’s when you realise he’s got photos underneath. dog eared ones. yellow tinted from age. photos of him at sixteen with his friends. you recognise a few as pro heroes, seen on the news with your… katsuki. you know names from stories he’s told you but you can’t put them to faces yet. you definitely know deku though. there’s a photo of them both, deku with his arm around bakugou’s shoulders and whilst he looks pissed off, it’s an adorable picture. his puffy cheeks, his cheek scar fresh and new. you snap a photo of that one. then he’s got another with his parents. of him and his sidekicks. a photo of him outside his agency building from a few years ago, holding a massive pair of scissors. him and other blonde people around his age. you think they’re his cousins? he’s even holding a little blonde baby. you turn over and everything is written in japanese. even you can tell that is handwriting is just as ugly in japanese.
him and…. is that that tv cook? and then him and a random old short guy with glasses and a pot belly. bakugou actually looks the happiest in this photo. grinning, bending his knees to get to the guys height and he’s pointing to him as a pose.
you have a photo with this short old man with glasses
who is he?
you flip through the other photos and three minutes later.
The prime minister?
The president?
Are you in my office?
img.025
five minutes wait. perhaps the longest you’ve ever had to wait from bakugou.
That is a voice actor from an anime I love
Does my favourite character
you awe aloud.
so cuteeeeeeee
the last photo you find is smaller than the others. less than half the size. it’s a polaroid of you, in your bedroom, smiling, sitting cross legged in your bed in pretty much the same outfit as you’re wearing now. one of your old t-shirts and cotton shorts. you wonder if he stole it from you. possibly? he took it last week after you bought some new film with the deal that if you let him take one, he’d buy you a new box. the next time you saw him he gave you three boxes of film. you didn’t mind the photo. you didn’t have any makeup on and your hair wasn’t done but bakugou clearly liked it enough to include in his line up of 15 photos.
you finish eating your sandwich in his office chair, staring at everything that makes bakugou katsuki. mostly work wise. achievements, his family, friends and you. just a single photo.
you throw the packaging in the bin and you don’t mean to, you swear but you just want to check if he’s got that new subscription service in his living room and you can finally watch that new series people have been talking about and—
bakugou comes home to you fast asleep on his sofa, wrapped in his new knitted blanket and his Heroes Weekly cover on the coffee table.
