The confessional was a coffin of dark velvet and whispered sin. Izuku’s knees ached on the hard floor, his mouth stretched around Katsuki’s cock, the taste of salt and starch filling his throat. Each muffled confession through the grate—'I lied,' 'I coveted'—vibrated in the wood against his cheek, a counterpoint to the slow, deep thrusts against his tongue. Katsuki’s hand rested heavy on his bare head, a silent benediction, his thumb stroking the shell of Izuku’s ear every time a particularly juicy sin was shared.
“You hear that, Izuku?” Katsuki’s voice was a low rumble above him, threaded with amusement. “Hear the flock’s petty corruption.” He pushed deeper, the thick head nudging the back of Izuku’s throat. Izuku gagged, tears springing to his eyes. “Such small sins. They have no idea what true devotion tastes like.”
Izuku’s jaw burned. He tried to breathe through his nose, the air thick with the smell of old wood, candle wax, and the musk of Katsuki’s skin. His own nakedness was a cold shock against his back where it wasn’t pressed to the booth wall. He’d come straight from home, binderless as ordered, his sweater and slacks folded neatly on the pew outside. A lamb to the slaughter.
“Wider,” Katsuki commanded, not unkindly. His thumb pressed into the hinge of Izuku’s jaw. “Accept your communion.”
From the other side of the lattice, a woman’s tearful voice filtered through. “Forgive me, Father, for I have envied my neighbor’s husband.”
Katsuki’s hips snapped forward, a sudden, brutal push that made Izuku’s nose press into the coarse hair at his base. Izuku choked, saliva dripping down his chin. Katsuki held him there, buried to the root, for one long, suffocating second. The woman wept softly through the partition.
He pulled Izuku off by his hair. Izuku gasped, air scraping his raw throat. “P-Please,” he rasped, not sure what he was begging for.
“Please what?” Katsuki used his grip to tilt Izuku’s face up. In the dim crimson light seeping through the grate, his eyes glowed like banked coals. “You want to confess too? Go on. Tell me your sin.”
Izuku’s breath hitched. His gaze dropped to the wet, glistening length still aimed at his face. “I… I took you into my mouth.”
“And?” Katsuki prompted, stroking himself slowly, his fist gliding over the slickness Izuku had left behind.
“And I… I liked it.” The admission was a torn whisper. “I liked the way you fill me. I crave it.”
Katsuki’s smile was a razor. “Now that’s a confession.” He guided himself back to Izuku’s lips, the swollen head dragging over them. “Open. Your penance is not complete.”
Izuku obeyed. This time, the rhythm was punishing, a steady, deep fucking of his mouth that left no room for breath, only the wet, rhythmic sound of taking him. Katsuki’s breathing grew ragged above him, his fingers twisting tightly in green curls. The woman on the other side finished her confession, received her absolution, and the curtain rustled as she left.
Silence, but for the obscene noise between them.
Katsuki’s hips kept moving, a slow, obscene piston that filled Izuku’s throat over and over. The wet, rhythmic sound was deafening in the cramped dark. Izuku gagged, tears streaming freely, his hands clenching uselessly at his own bare thighs. He tried to silence the choking, making his throat go slack and open, a desperate, humiliated skill he was learning too well.
The curtain to the penitent’s side rustled. Footsteps. The bench creaked.
Katsuki stilled, buried deep, his thumb stroking Izuku’s tear-soaked cheek. “Speak, child,” he called out, his voice a perfect, serene baritone. Only the faintest strain betrayed him.
A young woman’s voice, trembling with tears, filtered through the lattice. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Izuku’s blood turned to ice. He knew that voice. Ochaco.
“It’s been a week since my last confession.” She took a shaky breath. “I… I committed adultery. I slept with another man.”
Katsuki’s fingers tightened in Izuku’s hair. He pulled back slowly, letting Izuku gasp a silent, ragged breath before pushing back in, just as deep. Izuku screwed his eyes shut, his whole body trembling.
“Who was the man, my child?” Katsuki asked, his tone pastoral, even as he began to move again inside Izuku’s mouth, a shallow, deliberate rocking.
“It was… Tenya.” Ochaco’s sob was muffled, as if she’d pressed her face into her hands. “My friend. The one I always told Izuku not to worry about. We… we were studying, and it just happened. We fucked. More than once.”
The word ‘fucked’ from her lips, so raw and wrong in this place, hit Izuku like a physical blow. A high, thin whine escaped his nose. Katsuki shushed him silently, a gentle press of his thigh against Izuku’s shoulder.
“Do you love this Tenya?” Katsuki inquired, his own breath beginning to hitch. His movements grew more urgent, his cock swelling impossibly fuller on Izuku’s tongue.
“No! No, I love Izuku. I’m going to marry him. That’s what makes it so awful.” Ochaco was crying in earnest now. “I’ve ruined everything. I’ve defiled our promise. I’m so scared, Father. What do I do?”
Katsuki’s free hand came down to cradle Izuku’s jaw, holding him in place as his hips stuttered. “Your penance,” he said, his voice dropping to a thick, hungry rasp meant only for the booth, “is to swallow.”
He surged forward one last time, and Izuku felt the hot, bitter pulse flood the back of his throat. He swallowed convulsively, obediently, each gulp a torture as his fiancée wept for her sin just inches away through a thin wall of carved wood.
Katsuki held himself there, letting Izuku clean him, until he was soft. He finally slid out with a wet sound, tucking himself away. He leaned close to the grate. “Your secret is safe with me, child,” he told Ochaco, his voice once more the picture of clerical comfort. “For your penance, say ten Hail Marys. And pray for your fiancé’s… purity.”
He waited until he heard her weepy thanks, the rustle of the curtain, and her departing footsteps. Then he looked down at Izuku, who was shaking, saliva and tears and cum glistening on his chin.
“Well,” Katsuki murmured, his red eyes glowing with unholy delight. “It seems your pure little bride has a taste for corruption, too.”
Katsuki’s hand, still damp, fisted in Izuku’s curls and hauled him up from the floor. Izuku whimpered as he was dragged, his naked body clumsy and shaking, until he was straddling Katsuki’s lap on the narrow priest’s bench. The rough wool of Katsuki’s trousers scratched the inside of Izuku’s thighs.
“Look at you,” Katsuki murmured, his red eyes raking down Izuku’s chest. His thumbs traced the small, soft swells of Izuku’s breasts, bound only by skin now. “Exposed. Just like her soul.”
Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head away. “Don’t.”
“Don’t?” Katsuki’s laugh was a low puff of air against Izuku’s neck. He pinched a puffy brown nipple, rolling it hard between his fingers until Izuku gasped. “Your faithful girl just confessed to spreading her legs for another man. She *fucked* him, Izuku. Said the word right here in God’s house.”
He bent his head and took the taut bud into his mouth, sucking hard. The sensation was a shocking, wet heat that speared straight to Izuku’s cunt. He cried out, his hands flying to Katsuki’s shoulders to push, but he had no strength left.
“She wept for you,” Katsuki said, his voice muffled against Izuku’s skin. He switched to the other nipple, biting down gently before soothing it with his tongue. “Said she loved you. While my cock was down your throat.”
“Stop it,” Izuku begged, tears leaking from his clenched eyes. His body was betraying him, his hips making a tiny, involuntary rock against the hard muscle of Katsuki’s stomach. His clit throbbed, swollen and ignored.
Katsuki pulled back, his lips glistening. “You want me to stop? After what she did to you?” He palmed both of Izuku’s small tits, squeezing. “She’s not pure. She’s a liar. Just like you.”
He leaned in again, his mouth latching onto a nipple, sucking with a deep, rhythmic pull that felt like it was drawing a thread from Izuku’s core. Izuku’s back arched, a broken moan torn from him. “N-no…”
“Yes,” Katsuki growled, releasing the nipple with a wet pop. It stood peaked and red in the dim light. “Your sweet, saving-herself fiancée is a little whore. And you’re my whore. Seems fair.”
He captured Izuku’s mouth in a brutal kiss, forcing his tongue past lips still sore and used. Izuku could taste himself—salt and bitterness—on Katsuki’s tongue. The violation was complete.
When he broke the kiss, Katsuki rested his forehead against Izuku’s, his breathing harsh. “She doesn’t deserve you,” he whispered, the words a venomous caress. “She doesn’t know what you are. What you need. I do.”
His hand slid down Izuku’s trembling belly, through the coarse curls, and found the soaked, aching heat of him. Izuku sobbed, his whole body jolting at the first direct touch. “See?” Katsuki murmured, circling his clit with a relentless thumb. “You’re dripping for me. Even after her confession. You’re more mine than you ever were hers.”
Izuku couldn’t speak. He could only shake, overwhelmed by the degradation, the sharp pleasure, and the devastating truth of Ochaco’s words still echoing in the tiny, velvet darkness. He was coming apart, and the only thing holding him together was the corrupt priest touching him.
“Look at you,” Katsuki growled, his hand leaving Izuku’s clit to fumble with his trousers. In the dark, the sound of his zipper was obscenely loud. He pulled his cock back out, already thick and hard again. “Dripping all over my hand. Your needy little cunt is begging for it.”
He guided Izuku’s hips, the head of his cock nudging against soaked, swollen folds. “Sit.”
Izuku sobbed, a sound of pure defeat, but his body obeyed. He sank down, taking the massive length in one slow, excruciating slide until he was fully impaled, Katsuki’s hips flush against his ass. The stretch was blinding, a fullness that stole his breath.
“That’s it,” Katsuki breathed, his hands clamping on Izuku’s waist. “Take your communion.” He didn’t wait, pulling Izuku up and slamming him back down. The wooden bench beneath them groaned.
“She doesn’t deserve this,” Katsuki hissed, setting a brutal, driving rhythm. The confessional booth shuddered with each impact, the old joints creaking in protest. “Your pious little whore of a fiancée. She spread her legs for the first dick that flattered her.”
Izuku could only gasp, his head thrown back, each downward plunge punching a choked sound from his throat. His own hands scrabbled at Katsuki’s broad shoulders for balance.
“You,” Katsuki grunted, his breath hot against Izuku’s ear, “you serve a man of God. You take his sacrament. She just served her cunt. And Tenya’s pathetic dick.”
“S-stop… saying that,” Izuku begged, but the words were shattered into moans by the relentless pistoning of his body.
“Why?” Katsuki’s voice was a dark parody of pastoral care. He slammed up harder, making Izuku cry out. “It’s the truth. She’s a harlot. You’re my acolyte. Which is holier, Izuku?”
He changed the angle, and Izuku saw stars, a coil of pleasure tightening to a breaking point deep in his belly. His nails dug into Katsuki’s clerical shirt.
“You’re too good for her,” Katsuki rasped, his own control fraying. His thrusts became erratic, deeper, possessive. “This… this devotion… she could never understand.”
The booth was a cacophony of sin: skin slapping, wood straining, their ragged breaths, and Katsuki’s filthy, worshipful praise.
The coil snapped. Izuku’s body bowed, a silent scream tearing from his throat as his cunt clenched and spasmed around Katsuki’s length. A hot rush gushed out of him, soaking Katsuki’s trousers and the bench beneath them, the sound a obscene, wet punctuation to their sin.
Katsuki snarled, his own hips stuttering upward as he felt the scalding flood. “Fuck—yes—” His release followed, a deep, pulsing rush that filled Izuku to overflowing, mixing with his own spend inside the clutch of that impossibly tight heat.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged, heaving breaths in the dark velvet coffin. The air was thick with the smell of sex, sweat, and old incense.
Then, a tentative knock on the confessional door. “Father Bakugo? Is… is everything alright in there?”
Izuku froze, his whole body going rigid atop Katsuki’s. The voice was elderly, concerned. Mrs. Shuzenji from the altar guild.
Katsuki’s hands, still gripping Izuku’s waist, tightened possessively. He didn’t let Izuku move off him. “A moment of prayerful exertion, Mrs. Shuzenji,” he called out, his voice miraculously even, only slightly breathless. “The spirit moved powerfully. All is well.”
“Oh. Of course, Father. Forgive the interruption.” Her footsteps shuffled away on the stone floor.
The silence she left behind was heavier. Izuku began to tremble, a fine, full-body shudder. Katsuki’s softening cock slipped from him, followed by a fresh trickle of their combined release down his inner thigh.
“You hear that?” Katsuki whispered, his lips moving against the sweat-damp curls at Izuku’s temple. “No one checks on you. No one wonders if the pure little youth pastor is ‘alright’ while he’s alone with me.”
He leaned back, his red eyes catching the sliver of light through the grate. His thumb smeared through the mess on Izuku’s thigh, then brought it to Izuku’s lips. “Clean it.”
Izuku turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. A tear tracked through the mess on his chin.
“Now.” The word was quiet, absolute.
Izuku’s will was ashes. He opened his mouth, letting Katsuki’s thumb slide past his lips. The taste was bitter, salty, profoundly intimate. He sucked, his tongue moving weakly.
“Good boy,” Katsuki murmured, his other hand stroking Izuku’s bare back. “You take your penance so completely. You always finish your sacrament.”
He pulled his thumb free with a soft pop. “She never will. She’ll lie to you on your wedding night. She’ll pretend she’s whole for you. She doesn’t know what wholeness is.”
Izuku’s breath hitched. “Don’t… talk about her.”
“Why?” Katsuki’s hands came up to frame Izuku’s face, forcing him to meet that hellfire gaze. “She’s a phantom, Izuku. A pretty story you told yourself. I’m the truth. I’m the one who knows every inch of you. Who takes you, binderless and bare.” His thumbs stroked Izuku’s cheekbones. “Who makes you come so hard you scream without sound.”
Izuku wanted to argue. To defend her, to defend himself. But the words were dead in his throat, killed by the visceral memory of her weeping confession and his own body convulsing around the demon priest’s cock.
“You belong here,” Katsuki said, his voice dropping to a sacramental hush. “In the dark. With me. This is your real confession. This is your true marriage.”
Katsuki’s thumbs were still on his cheeks. The command hung between them, sacrilegious and absolute. Then Katsuki leaned in, and his mouth covered Izuku’s.
It wasn’t violent. It was deep, consuming, a slow claiming that tasted of salt and shared sin. Izuku stiffened, a protest dying in his throat. Then a spark, tiny and desperate, ignited in his gut. It unfurled, warm and terrifying, melting the frozen core of his shame. His lips moved, tentative, then parted. He kissed back.
A low, approving sound vibrated from Katsuki’s chest into Izuku’s. “There,” he breathed against Izuku’s mouth, his hands sliding into the sweaty curls at the nape of Izuku’s neck. “That’s your real penance. Wanting it.”
Izuku whimpered, the sound lost in Katsuki’s mouth as the priest licked back inside. His own hands, which had been limp at his sides, rose to clutch at Katsuki’s shoulders. The kiss deepened, turning filthy and wet, a silent confession more damning than any words whispered through the grate.
“You taste like us,” Katsuki murmured, pulling back just enough to speak, their lips brushing. “Like my cum and your cunt. Like truth.”
“I hate you,” Izuku gasped, but he was chasing Katsuki’s mouth, kissing him again, his body arching forward on Katsuki’s lap.
“You don’t.” Katsuki’s hands slid down his bare back, over the curve of his ass, gripping hard. “You hate her. For being weak. For being a lie.” He kissed along Izuku’s jaw, down the column of his throat. “You love this. The weight of me. The stretch. Being known.”
Izuku’s head fell back, a shudder wracking him as Katsuki’s mouth found one of his small, sensitive breasts. He cried out when Katsuki’s tongue circled the large, puffy nipple. “K-Katsuki—”
“Say it.” Katsuki bit down, gently, then soothed with his tongue. Izuku jolted, a fresh pulse of heat gushing between his legs. “Say you want this.”
“I want it,” Izuku sobbed, the words torn from him. He rocked his hips, feeling the wet, messy slide of his own arousal on Katsuki’s stomach. “God help me, I want it.”
Katsuki lifted his head, his red eyes glowing faintly in the dark. He looked ravenous. “God’s not here, Izuku. I am.” He kisses hard once more. “And I’m far from finished with you.”