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2 AM

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Ding-dong.

The convenience store door automatically slides shut behind them. Bakugou fishes around his leather jacket in the chilly 2 AM dark, trying to locate the pack of cigarettes he just bought. Where the fuck are they — oh, his pants pocket. Duh. With a scowl, he busts the pack open, extracting two.

“Yo, Camie, I’m feelin’ generous, want a —“

He doesn’t finish that sentence. He doesn’t really remember what the ending was.

“Generous?” She repeats, dusky lips at the exposed nape of his neck. “You don’t say.”

“Bitch, get offa me.” He spits, unsuccessful in his endeavor to break free. Who the fuck pins their friend face-first to the side of a convenience store, anyway? Jeez. “This wall is piss central.”

“Cool.” Her nails drag down his t-shirt, his stomach, until they scratch his navel. “I love piss.”

“What the fuck?” Bakugou hisses. But he shuts up, disoriented, when her acrylic claws drip down to undo his belt.

“Know what else I love?” She snickers into his hair, opening his buckle and moving onto his fly. “Cum.”

The cigarettes fall out of his clasp.

Camie’s drunk. She was buzzed at the party they ditched, and she sure as hell didn’t lose it quite yet. Her breath stinks like tequila, and her fingertips are clumsy as they slip into his underwear to stroke his frigid, flaccid dick.

“Don’t jerk me off in the cold, you slut.” He groans, hating how fast his body reacts to her touch.

“It’s either gonna be here or at home.” She singsongs, and giggles when he really starts to twitch and swell in her chapped palm. “Aww. Someone’s horny.”

“I’ll send your ass to jail.” He grunts, angling his face so only one of his cheeks is in contact with this germ-central, grafittied-up wall.

“Sounds great.” She doesn’t throw back a witty comment. Just brushes him off. That pisses Bakugou off more than it should, and he tries once again to throw her off his back. Doesn’t work, and he growls.

“You’re my bitch.” She slurs into his ear, her face shadowing his from the street lamp in the parking lot. Bakugou’s lips part — how fucking dare she, but his guts throb and his stupid-ass dick betrays his indignation with a twitch, a fucking glob of precum dribbling out. Fuck. “My lil’ bitch is gonna bust all over this wall, and then lick it off.”

“Fuck no.”

“Hm.”

She ignores him again, and squeezes him too tight. His body convulses, a barely audible pained moan slipping through his clenched teeth, and he drapes closer to the wall, hugging the stone-cold building. Like the pathetic bitch Camie’s deeming him to be.

Shit.

“You want all these strangers to watch you.” She whispers low, words quickening with her fist’s rhythm. “See your twink ass overpowered by a pretty girl. Pretend to fight back against something you want. You want this, right, bitch?”

Bakugou shudders, not from the cold. He seals his mouth shut and breathes through his nose, fast and labored, as he steels his hips. Refuses to snap them into Camie’s cozy, not-lubricated grip. It’s almost uncomfortable, but he ain’t saying shit to stop her. There’s tequila buzzing through him, and it’s making his body temperature climb, his need for release so much more demanding than it usually is. He wants to cum.

And maybe someone other than Camie to witness it.

Like hell he’d admit that to her, much less to himself.

His lips hurt as he bites them, begging them to stay shut, fingers cramping from how hard he fists them. Camie bites his ear, moaning nasty shit against him, squeezing his thigh through his jeans. Pumps him real sloppy, real good. Trying to lull him into it.

It’s definitely not working.

“Don’t be shy.” Her words honey him up, melt his reservations. “Fuck my hand. Show the world what a slut you are.”

No, no, no. Stop, he tells his hips as they meet her aggressive strokes. Don’t play this insane bitch’s game. Man the fuck up, Katsuki. Don’t let her break you down.

His heart stops when they hear a familiar chime. Footsteps and laughter, an electronic whoosh. People.

Fuck.

“Maybe it’s someone we know.” Her fist pulls on his dick faster and she grips his ass, now. He’s thankful she can’t see his eyes roll. “A sloppy kid. A toked out college student. They’ll be like — oh, y’know that asshole on our floor? What’s his name, Bakugou? Yeah — we saw him getting jerked off behind the 7-Eleven by some big-tit thot.”

A pathetic whimper keens out his nose when his orgasms hits him like a punch to the gut.

He hears his spunk splat against the wall, drip down to the dirty gravel below. Onto his new box of cigarettes. Or at least he thinks he hears it — through the shame buzzing like an afterglow in his belly. His panting. The trembling of his weak body as Camie laughs against him, a ridiculing, victorious sound as she milks this torture for every drop she can.

His nose scrapes against the rough wall as he turns his head. God, it feels like he busted his lip against it, too. Motherfucker. He doesn’t even feel the pain, though. He’s too doped out and shaky, and so irrevocably pissed. Camie still croons into his ear as she gives his spent dick one last squeeze, and then lets him free.

Jelly. His legs feel so damn unstable he’s worried he’ll collapse. But he doesn’t. He zips his prick back into his pants and covers himself up, and flips over, glaring at her smug face.

“You’re fucking mental.” He swallows, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. No blood, only drool. He isn’t sure which is worse.

“And you’re a fucking pervert.” She shrugs, and points below and behind them. Smug bitch looks so proud of herself. “You shot like a load and a half, dude.”

“Get the fuck outta here.” Instead of entertaining her own masturbatory pat-on-the-back session — oh look at me I’m Camie I’m the handjob queen, hahah I’m a terrible friend — he searches for his cigarettes. And finds, gratefully, that none of his splooge got onto it. It’s not much, but it’s a little victory his pride sure appreciates.

He crushes the two unlit ones beneath his boot and walks away, lighting a new one between his teeth. Camie clicks after him, her ho heels sounding ungraceful and heavy behind him on the asphalt as they exit through the parking lot back to campus.

“Baku-babe, can I bum one off ya?”

“Absolutely fucking not.” He cocks his head to exhale his smoke into her face. She squints, frowning.

“I’ll blow you for one.”

“Yeah, I bet you fucking would.”

He takes another drag, and blows it up towards the overcast night sky, watching the swirls disappear into the starless canvas stretching above them.