She’s sucking down light beer like it’s the sole thing nourishing her blood. Can after can replenishing nutrients, aerating cells, fortifying bones. Katsuki wants to laugh as he snatches another burger from the charcoal grill Kirishima half knows how to use. Camie’s such a fucking perverted lush.
The only thing she’s filling up is that bladder of hers.
Katsuki notices when her stance narrows, bare, chunky thighs pressing together. She’s turned away from him—most of her ass hangs out of those tight-as-hell denim, booty shorts. Camie arches her back just so slightly as she snorts happy laughter out in response to whatever shitty conversation she’s wasting her time with.
A minute later, she looks back and locks eyes with Katsuki. He glares at her doe eyes from across the grassy, muddy lawn, and she sticks her tongue out.
Taking her sweet time as usual. Fuck.
Pre-games aren’t his style. He doesn’t like boozing with people he barely tolerates before they suffer through a football game he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about. Free beer is cool, but that’s about it. His neighbors don’t have to hang off him, pry personal info out of him, force a friendship with him. Katsuki loathes getting the sunburn, getting splashed by morons in the inflatable kiddie pool, getting bitten by all the mosquitoes humming in the swampy air. He doesn’t need any of this shit. He doesn’t need his shitty friends. But, he’s got them, though. And at least they know how to cater a tailgate.
Camie, on the other hand, likes this shit. The kinetic energy. The lax attitudes. The waterfalled beers. She’s a greedy bitch who keeps taking until she’s overly-sated. Until she’s up to the brim with it—this bullshit.
Katsuki helps her empty out until she can take again.
When the fuck did it get like this?
He finishes two, well-done burgers by the time she waddles over to him. She’s tied her hair up into a ponytail since then, and her black bikini top is even more exposed. He swipes his eyes over her pushed-up tits (who the fuck wears a push-up bra as a swimsuit? easy skank), her noticeably more swollen belly. The tight curve of her hips cinched between the waistline. Extra flesh hanging out.
He’s hungry again.
“Hey,” her voice is full. Katsuki grips his own beer tightly and feels his dick stir.
“You’re a mess,” he grunts, sipping his lager like a civilized adult. “How many did you fucking chug?”
Camie wets her bottom lip and crosses her right leg over the other tight, and sways. “Enough to hurt.”
Playing the pain card already? Wow. Katsuki hates how hot that makes him. Hates how much it makes him want to bend her sweaty back forward and rut against her clenched pussy. God.
“Can see that bladder already. Fucking blatant,” he hisses and weaves his arm around her sticky, lower back. Pulls her flush to his side so he can easily nose beneath her ear. “What idiot wears denim when they’re holding?”
“That’s the point, asshole,” she smirks, but even then, her words are clipped. Taut. She leans into his body and skims her fingers along this lower stomach, under the hem of his muscle tee. Walks along the v of his hips, his happy trail. “You drunk?”
“Buzzed,” he mumbles and kisses her balmy throat.
“Buzzed enough to neck in public,” Camie teases, and presses into his abs more firmly, possessively, helplessly. “You feel good.”
He doesn’t acknowledge that. He brushes his mouth over her earlobe instead. “You smell gross.”
“I smell like sunscreen,” it’s more of a chemically, artificial coconut type of reek, but he won’t fight her on that. “B.O. too.”
“A bit,” he agrees because yeah, she’s nasty. Katsuki hears her pout. “You're nasty.”
“You’re a little stanky too,” she retorts, but it goes shrill when he squeezes her hips. He feels invincible. “God, don’t make me leak.”
God, he wants to fuck her while she’s squirming. Inside her trembling, full heat. Bitchy mouth open, whining because she can’t stand to have so much inside, him and everything else—
“If you leak, it’s your own fucking fault.”
“Bitch,” his grip on her fleshy hip navigates to the front, below her belly button. He presses down and Camie’s pained, mouse-like squeak fills his dick with more blood. “Hold it.”
Her crotch presses flush into his thigh, and he feels her, her tension. The quiver. Shit. He wants to edge her in private, away from their peers, behind the trees out back from the dorm. All these fucking perverts are watching them. Doesn’t have to look around to know. Dirty busybodies.
Katsuki releases her and starts towards the edge of the clearing, away from their dorm and into the enclosed woods. Camie gapes at him, eyes wide. All alone with her legs crossed and her bottom lip already chewed raw.
“You coming?” He looks at her like she’s stupid.
She doesn’t answer. Just stands there, gripping her legs tighter.
Camie’s like fucking glass. Sees right through her. If she walks, she’s scared she’ll piss herself in front of everyone. Katsuki drinks in that fear, that discomfort as it washes over her. He tucks his full cock into the waistband of his shorts, keeping it discreet, as he heads away from the tailgate.
When did she fully turn him into such a freak?
Better yet: when did he start liking it?
He almost laughs at the speed of her stride. How she flips her hair and hoists up her tits and makes a run for it. The scrunch of her face as she totters like she’s on a tightrope to him—past him as she leaves everyone behind schmoozing by the grill and splashing like babies in the plastic, patched-up inflatable pool to venture into the forest.
A few whistles pierce the air. Katsuki gives them the finger as he follows after her, not looking back. Those idiots think they’re dipping to suck face.
Honestly, that’s better than the truth.
When the music from the boombox melts into a low throb and familiar faces are out of view, Camie’s rough bravado falls. She croaks, almost collapsing into the harsh bark of an oak tree. Katsuki’s gut drops as she twists her thighs together and starts to pant, rubs her crotch and wriggles her bare toes in her flip-flops.
This ain’t an act.
“I’m dying,” she breathes, eyes shut. “Katsuki let me go. Please. I overdid it.”
“No," He says simply, and shoves up against her. He pokes into her hard rock of a belly and she almost cries, squeezing herself more forcefully as if that could stop herself from leaking, from the agony.
“Fuck,” she sobs, lips bitten raw. She tilts her head back as he unclips the front clasp of her bikini top and lets her tits fall loose. Katsuki dives to take her left nipple into his mouth and starts playing with the other. She pants harder as he tortures her.
“How bad you wanna piss?” he sucks on the nub, twisting the other with sick glee.
“I’m gonna fucking cum when I do,” she hisses, cupping herself through her stupid denim shorts. “Hate that holding piss feels so fucking good.”
She giggles. What the fuck. There’s tears in her eyes and the bitch has the energy to laugh at him.
Katsuki vaguely feels jealous. He wishes holding it pushed against his sweet spot. Wishes the full trembling of his bladder made him feel tight and horny and desperate for release, any release. Camie told him when she was drunk last year at a dorm party that she’s always horny when her bladder aches. Katsuki called her a freak.
Kept calling her a freak with his cock rock hard against her when she turned to mush when she whimpered and begged and sobbed when she finally pissed herself in the shower of that stranger’s bathroom at the party. Katsuki let her soak through her skimpy thong, demanding she hold up the hem of her tiny, black miniskirt as it streamed down her legs.
Katsuki stripped and joined her in the piss-soaked floor of the shower stall. They made out in that stranger’s shower while people babbled to themselves and pissed (like normal fucking people) in the toilet on the other side of the curtain.
It’s only gotten more dangerous—the places they risk it. The common room. Outside the dorm at 2AM. Lecture. The dining hall.
Now, homecoming tailgates.
Her tits taste like bug spray. Greedy, he grabs her hip roughs up along her sweat-slick side. Her slicked-back hair frizzes along her crown, and she shudders. Pleasure or pain, he doesn’t care. Camie’s humiliation sounds so freshly raw. He’s never heard her sound so agonized. Voice up an octave, those sexy pouted lips parted and wobbly, chewed off all her lip gloss. It’s better than any gross porno he’s ever whacked off to.
She scratches his arms and wails. Begging him to let her finally go. Feel good. Feel relieved.
Katsuki palms her distended stomach hard and he watches her eyes bug and tears sprout. Finally. He watches the front of the pale denim darken.
“Stop,” he demands.
She stops pissing, but it hurts. He knows it hurts so bad. He watches her bow forward, holding onto his shoulders in desperation as the most animalistic groan leaves her mouth. Camie doesn’t look any less relieved.
“It’s gonna pop,” she inhaled sharply. “My b-bladder.”
“Don’t care. Don’t chug nasty light beer, then.”
“It really hurts,” she begs. “Fuck—never fantasized about a bathroom before. H-hah.”
“Disgusting. Gonna rub that clit after you’re done?”
Camie claws him. She definitely draws blood—Katsuki groans into the base of her ponytail.
“I’m soaking wet,” she whimpers. “Besides my accident.”
Katsuki wants to finger her, feel the thick goop warm his hand as he prods around her insides. While she’s holding, after she empties—he wants to explore every nasty moment of her during this torturefest. Watch her roll her eyes as he crooks a base, pathetic orgasm from her overworked pelvic region.
There’s a mosquito bite above her right breast. Katsuki drags his teeth over it and enjoys the way she arches back, spooked. “What the fuck,” she demands as if that’s the weirdest thing that’s happened today.
He makes her slip off her slightly soiled shorts. Immediately he realizes the pervert went commando today. He has half a mind to berate her, but he wants to fill up that repulsive cunt instead. So he does.
Camie turns around and sticks her ass out, soothing her tight bladder as Katsuki nudges his shorts down just enough to roll on a condom from his wallet and press into her. She’s slick and hot and grips him too tight it almost hurts. It kinda does.
“Bad idea, bad idea,” she curses quietly, trying to inch away from his almost balls deep intrusion, changing her mind, “You’re—my bladder—“
He snaps out and fucks into her firm. He’s never heard her yell like this.
It sounds like yes.
Everything gets wetter. So fucking warm. Camie lets go while he’s inside. He pulls out, careful not to get his own clothes wet as she pisses herself in the middle of the woods. She stands buck naked, body relaxing as the strong stream pours down her legs and into the grass. It squishes beneath her flip-flops.
He rubs the curve of her hip as she empties. He undoes her ponytail so he can comb through her hair as she goes. Her blonde hair’s frizzy, but it’s still so beautiful.
When she finishes—it takes forever for the last of it to trickle out, he kisses her ear and says, “Good girl.” He rubs along the length of her pussy and strokes along her pubic hair. Its all wet and pliant and chapped from the piss. Katsuki keeps kissing the back of her skull and asks if she’s dead yet. If she busted like she said she would.
Camie sticks her ass against his wrapped dick, voice guttural and spent but not finished. No way. “None of this tender shit. Fuck me good.”
A fistful of blonde hair and a rough pull of her ass cheeks and he’s in her again. Her cunt flutters more welcoming now, less crowded. He bites her shoulder and starts to fuck her steady and rough. If she doesn’t want aftercare then she ain’t getting it.
Camie bites her fist as he pounds her, meeting him back with as much aggression. “Katsuki, you’re as fucked as I am, yeah?” She arches her neck and their eyes meet, frenzied and hooded and full of challenge neither of them is proud to engage in.
It’s so fucking hot.
“You’re standing in your own piss,” He growls into her hairline, and ducks back into her shoulder, leaving bruises.
“And whose cunt is your dick so hard for, huh?”
Katsuki picks up the pace. Camie drops her head and he hears her breath through her mouth.
“Baby,” she groans, “that’s it.”
It’s the humidity, the laughter beyond the trees, the thrill of being caught that sends him over the edge. He gasped against her as he finishes thick into the tip of the condom. She clenches around him, milking him, and he wraps around her hips to rubs her slick clit. Keeps rubbing even when he pulls out soft, keeps rolling that swollen nub until she’s bracing against the tree and whimpering into her palm. He’s mad at himself for cumming so soon—there’s nothing like feeling her contract around him.
Oh well. He’s a sore loser but he’s not a bad fuck.
She shakes quietly, and he strokes her through her orgasm. Eventually, she tells him to stop, and her breath sounds wrecked.
Camie’s hair veils her shoulders and back. Katsuki wants to drape over her, too, but he won’t. The summer air is too sticky, their spent skin even danker, and it’s gross. He’s not cuddling someone ever, and he ain’t cuddling someone when the most pressing matter in his brain is to take a damn shower. He rolls the condom off, ties it off and chucks it into a nearby bush.
“Fuck,” she bends over and straps her bikini top back on. The mosquito bite is more than noticeable—it’s irritated and angry. “Shower time?”
“Jump in the kiddie pool. S’probably pissed in already, anyway,” Katsuki grunts, tucking himself back into his shorts and zipping up.
Camie barks out laughter and slaps his wrist as she—how?— pulls out her bathing suit bottom from some pocket in her shorts and pulls it up her soaked thighs. “Asshole.” She shoves on her shorts then, and with a quick kiss to his cheek, leads them back to civilization.
When they walk back through the thicket, ice cold water sprays them like a firehose. Camie shrieks and Katsuki curses loud enough for the football team to hear it in the locker room.
“Y’all fucking nasty,” Kirishima yells as he commandeers the hose. “Taking tailgate to a whole new level.”