If you were ever wondering where to find Bakugou Katsuki on a Saturday night, it would most certainly not be at a raging dance club in Harajuku. That is, until this Saturday night. Perhaps some explanation is in order. To get you in the proper headspace to understand Katsuki’s choices and present circumstance, maybe the story should be rolled back a bit to this past Thursday.
Katsuki was furious waking up that Thursday morning for two reasons: 1) he had missed his alarm and therefore could not run before homeroom and 2) it was his fault he missed that alarm. He had only been able to fall asleep Wednesday night - way later than he had wanted to - after he jerked off to the tempting images of Jirou flashing behind his eyes every time he closed them. Thus, making his way to homeroom effectively cowed by his insecure thoughts, he had come to the conclusion that his infatuation with Jirou had reached extremely distracting levels...and he had to end whatever it was that recently sparked between them.
Yes, his decision was impulsive, but it wasn’t without warrant - or so he did his best to convince himself. It started with a missed alarm, but where did it end? He couldn’t risk his attraction to her fucking up his plan to be the number one hero. His reaction to her presence was probably just his dumb fucking hormones, anyway. It wasn’t because he liked her or anything. He didn’t really need to be near her at all. He didn’t need anyone! It was just a new level of him having to fight against his biology - of which he was already no stranger - and that was that.
So, he had decided to smother his feelings...and ignore her. He did have a heart though, despite the popular belief that he was nothing more than an A.I. programmed with the initiative ‘rage and conquer.’ When she had waved to him on Thursday when he walked into homeroom, it had been painful seeing her hurt face when, instead of waving back, he pretended he didn’t even see her. He had done much the same the rest of that day, and then the next. He felt like the absolute biggest dick alive, but he hoped that would pass and he would forget about her and her him.
Needless to say, Katsuki had been pleasantly? surprised when he received her note on Saturday morning confirming their fight. After warring with his desire to text her his response, he had gone to the 3-A training area to train brutally hard instead. He needed to be prepared to win, afterall. He didn’t know her true potential, so he wasn’t about to let up. He was going to bring his A game to show her how badass he was. For no reason at all...other than because he could? Yeah. He hadn’t pondered on that thought too much further.
After his post training shower, Katsuki was mindlessly scrolling through Facebook to wind down...when he had come across a post featuring a picture of Jirou. His heart had stopped, mind going blank. His palms began to sweat profusely, and he had to wipe them on his pants to keep the nitroglycerin and salt combo from getting on his phone. In the photos, she was wearing the sexiest fucking outfit he had ever seen in his life. In a skin-tight red dress with a pentagram harness crossed over her chest that cupped her small breasts perfectly - his mouth had watered - and black thigh highs with matching thigh harnesses, she was posing coquettishly on a long leather couch, pursing her vermilion lips at the camera. She was wearing her signature triangles again, which Katsuki liked very much. A few of the other female students in 3-A and 3-B were sitting on either side of her, all equally dolled up. The post caption was: ‘Night out with my girls and Birthday Queen Toru!’
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Why had she decided to wear that, and where could he find her? He desperately needed to see her.
‘So much for your resolve to ignore her, Katsuki. You’re weak,’ his inner voice had taunted him, but he told it to shut the fuck up. He felt powerless to deny his base desire to find her and...he wasn’t sure what after that.
