The church air was thick with perfume and warm bodies. Sunlight streamed through stained glass, painting Katsuki’s shoulder in hot, jeweled light. He stood rigid at the altar, his tuxedo a starched cage, and watched the doors at the back of the nave.

Eijiro, beside him, shifted his weight. His gaze kept flicking to the front pew where Denki Kaminari sat, one leg crossed over the other, a small, knowing smile on his face. Denki gave a tiny, innocent wave. Eijiro’s jaw tightened. He looked back at Katsuki, his expression a silent scream of apology and confusion.

Then the doors opened. Inko stood there, a vision in ivory silk, her forest-green hair half-up, her smile radiant and tearful. The organ swelled.

And beside her, holding her bouquet, was Izuku.

He was her maid of honor, dressed in a sleek, emerald-green suit that clung to his lean frame. His curls were artfully tamed, freckles stark against his cheeks. He looked at his mother with pure, loving adoration, his arm linked gently with hers. Then his eyes lifted, found Katsuki’s, and the love in them didn’t vanish—it transformed. It became a slow, deep burn of possession.

Katsuki stopped breathing. The walk down the aisle felt like an hour. Inko’s eyes were only for him, full of trust. Izuku’s eyes were a brand.

They reached the altar. Inko kissed Izuku’s cheek, whispering something that made him smile sweetly. Then she took Katsuki’s hands. Her fingers were warm, trembling slightly. His were cold.

Izuku stepped to the side, taking his place just behind and to the left of Inko. Close enough for Katsuki to smell him—something clean and subtly sweet, cutting through the church incense.

The minister began to speak. Words about love, fidelity, new beginnings. Katsuki heard them through a thick fog. His entire awareness was split between the warmth of Inko’s hands and the heat of Izuku’s gaze on him.

“Do you, Katsuki Bakugo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Katsuki’s throat locked. He felt a bead of sweat trace down his spine under his shirt. He looked at Inko, at her hopeful, kind eyes. He looked past her shoulder. Izuku wasn’t smiling now. His expression was serene, patient. His eyes dropped, just for a fraction of a second, to the front of Katsuki’s trousers, then back up. A silent question. A reminder.

“I do,” Katsuki rasped.

The words tasted like ash. Inko’s smile widened, tears spilling over. Behind her, Izuku’s lips curved. Not a smile of joy. A smile of victory.

The minister pronounced them husband and wife. The church erupted in applause. Katsuki leaned in, his lips meeting Inko’s in a chaste, closed-mouth kiss that tasted of salt from her tears. Her hands came up to frame his face, and she smiled into it, sighing with happiness.

He pulled back. His eyes immediately found Izuku, who was clapping softly, his gaze fixed on Katsuki’s mouth.

The recessional began. Inko looped her arm through his, beaming at the guests as they walked back up the aisle. Katsuki moved like an automaton. The sunlight through the stained glass was too bright, the perfumed air too thick. He could feel Izuku walking behind them, a silent, green-suited shadow.

Outside on the church steps, chaos and congratulations swallowed them. Inko was enveloped by her friends. Katsuki stood stiffly, accepting handshakes, his smile a tight, practiced line.

“You look like you’re at a sentencing,” Eijiro murmured, appearing at his elbow. His own smile was strained, his eyes scanning the crowd. “Where’s the porn star?”

“Don’t,” Katsuki grunted.

“I’m just saying. He’s a hazard. My job is to protect you from hazards.”

“Your job was to keep me from fucking my stepson. You failed.”

Eijiro flinched. Before he could reply, a flash of emerald green cut through the crowd. Izuku slipped between two aunts, coming to stand directly in front of Katsuki. He held out a single, white rose he’d plucked from his mother’s bouquet.

“For the groom,” Izuku said, his voice sweet. His eyes weren’t sweet. They were dark, hungry pools. “Congratulations, Kacchan.”

Katsuki stared at the rose. He didn’t take it.

“Izuku, honey, that’s so thoughtful!” Inko called from a few feet away, her voice warm with affection.

Izuku’s smile widened. He stepped closer, into Katsuki’s space. The scent of him—clean cotton and something uniquely, intimately Izuku—wrapped around Katsuki’s throat. He leaned in, as if to place the rose in Katsuki’s lapel. His lips brushed Katsuki’s ear.

“I felt you shake when you said ‘I do’,” Izuku whispered, the words a hot, private violation. “Your voice cracked. It was the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He tucked the stem into Katsuki’s buttonhole, his fingers lingering, brushing over the hard plane of his chest. Katsuki’s breath hitched. His cock, traitorous and heavy, twitched against the confines of his trousers.

Izuku leaned back, his innocent smile back in place. “There. Perfect.”

He turned and melted back into the crowd, heading toward where Denki stood by a limousine, grinning like a fox.

Eijiro stared at the rose, then at Katsuki’s face. “Jesus,” he breathed.

“Don’t,” Katsuki said again, the word hollow.

The reception was in a grand hotel ballroom, all crystal and soft gold light. Katsuki sat through the toasts, the first dance with Inko, the cutting of the cake. He performed every duty. His hand was steady when he fed Inko a bite of vanilla sponge. His smile was present when she kissed his cheek.

But his eyes tracked green. He watched Izuku move through the room. He watched him laugh with Denki, watched him accept a dance from an elderly uncle, watched the way the emerald suit stretched across his shoulders when he reached for a glass of champagne.

Izuku never looked back. He was the picture of a devoted son, attentive to his mother, charming to the guests. The denial of eye contact was its own form of torture.

During a slow song, Inko was pulled away by a cousin. Katsuki stood alone near the terrace doors, a half-empty glass of scotch in his hand. The music swelled, strings and something aching.

“She’s happy.”

Katsuki didn’t turn. He knew the voice. He felt the heat of a body beside him.

“You’ve made her so happy, Kacchan,” Izuku said softly, staring out at the dance floor where Inko was now laughing. “It’s all she’s ever wanted. A good man. A safe man.”

Katsuki’s knuckles were white on the glass. “What do you want?”

Katsuki finally turned to look at Izuku. The ballroom lights caught the gold in his green eyes. “You know what I want.”

“It’s her wedding night.”

“And she’ll be exhausted. She’ll fall right asleep. She always does.” Izuku took a small step closer. The music covered his words. “Your room is on the second floor. Bridal suite. Mine is right next door. Connected by a door.”

Katsuki swallowed. His blood was a deafening roar in his ears. “You’re insane.”

“I’m patient.” Izuku’s hand came up, not touching, just hovering near the rose on Katsuki’s chest. “I waited for this day. I let you have your ceremony. Your vows. Your first dance.” His fingers finally grazed the petals. “Now it’s my turn. Come find me after she’s asleep. Or I’ll come find you. And I won’t be quiet.”

He let his fingertips drag down, over the crisp linen of Katsuki’s shirt, stopping just above his belt. A promise. A threat.

Then he was gone, disappearing into the swirl of dancers, leaving Katsuki standing rigid by the doors, his entire body aching, the ghost of that touch burning through the fabric onto his skin.

Eijiro stood alone in a dimly hallway just off the main ballroom, his broad shoulders braced against the wall. He was trying to remember the speech he was supposed to give in twenty minutes. The words kept dissolving into the memory of Denki’s mouth, warm and wicked.

A whisper, close enough to stir the hair near his ear. “Does my biggest fan want a taste of my pussy?”

Eijiro’s eyes snapped open. Denki stood before him, having materialized from the shadows. He’d changed out of his suit into something simpler, a black cocktail dress. His yellow eyes glittered.

“What are you doing?” Eijiro’s voice was rough. “I have a speech.”

“Room 314,” Denki whispered, his breath warm against Eijiro’s jaw. “Don’t keep me waiting, big guy.”

He vanished back into the shadows, leaving Eijiro braced against the wall, his heart hammering against his ribs. The hallway air felt thin, insufficient.

Eijiro delivered his best man speech seven minutes later. He didn’t remember a word of it. He saw flashes: Katsuki’s rigid profile, Inko’s glowing smile, the empty chair where Izuku should have been. His voice was a steady, professional drone over the muffled roar of his own pulse. He raised a toast. The crowd applauded. He was moving before the clapping died.

He took the stairs two at a time, the carpet muffling his footsteps. Room 314. The brass numbers gleamed under the hallway sconce. He didn’t knock. He turned the handle. It was unlocked.

Denki stood in the center of the room, backlit by the city lights filtering through the sheer curtains. He was naked except for a pair of glittering, sky-high stripper heels. The delicate silver chain of a belly ring dipped toward his navel. Lower, nestled in the smooth, shaved swell of his pussy, a small, perfect yellow gem glinted on his swollen clit.

Eijiro stopped dead in the doorway. All the blood in his body plummeted, hot and urgent, to his cock. It strained against his tailored trousers, a painful, immediate ache.

“You made it,” Denki said, his voice a playful singsong. He took a slow, deliberate step forward. The heels clicked on the hardwood. “Speech go okay?”

“What… is that?” Eijiro heard himself ask, his gaze locked on the piercing.

Denki looked down, then back up, a slow smile spreading. “My sunshine jewel. You like it?” He took another step, now within arm’s reach. The scent of him—sweet, musky, clean sweat—hit Eijiro’s senses. “I got it for my last scene. The viewers loved it.”

Eijiro’s hand shot out, not to touch Denki, but to brace against the doorframe. His knuckles were white. “This is a mistake.”

“Probably.” Denki closed the final inch. His bare chest brushed Eijiro’s suit jacket. “You gonna come in, or are you just gonna stand there and watch from the doorway? I mean, I don’t mind. I’ve had whole audiences.”

Eijiro’s control snapped. He shoved the door shut, the latch clicking with finality. In the same motion, his hands were on Denki’s hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his thighs. He hauled him forward, crushing their bodies together.

Denki gasped, a real, unscripted sound. Then he laughed, low and thrilled. “There he is.”

Eijiro kissed him. It was all teeth and desperate hunger. He tasted like champagne and something uniquely, electrically Denki. Eijiro’s tongue pushed into his mouth, claiming it. One hand came up to tangle in the fluffy blonde hair, gripping tight.

Denki melted against him, his own hands scrambling to rip at Eijiro’s tie, his buttons. “Off,” he panted against Eijiro’s lips. “Get this fucking suit off.”

Eijiro broke the kiss, breathing hard. He shoved his jacket off his shoulders, let it fall to the floor. His shirt followed, buttons pinging. He stood bare-chested, his muscles taut with tension. Denki’s eyes raked over him, dark with want.

“I need your cock,” Denki panted, his fingers fumbling with Eijiro’s belt buckle. The metal clicked open. “God, I’ve been thinking about it since the stairwell. This huge, thick horse cock just for me.”

Eijiro stood frozen, letting him work. Denki yanked the belt free and popped the button of his trousers. The zipper hissed down. Denki’s warm hand pushed inside, past the waistband of Eijiro’s briefs, and wrapped around his bare, hard length. Eijiro groaned, a raw, punched-out sound.

“Fuck,” Denki whispered, his eyes wide as he stroked him. “You’re so fucking thick. I can’t wait. I need you to fuck me raw.”

He pulled his hand free and backed toward the bed, his heels catching on the carpet. He fell back onto the mattress, bouncing once. He spread his legs wide, knees bent, feet planted. The yellow gem on his clit glittered under the city lights.

“Look,” Denki breathed, his own hands sliding down his stomach. He used his thumbs to spread his pussy lips apart, exposing the flushed, glistening pink inside. “See how wet I am for you? All for you, big guy. Been wet since I saw you in your suit.”

Eijiro approached the bed, his trousers and briefs pushed down to his thighs. His cock stood out, thick and ruddy and leaking. The sight of Denki spread open, presenting himself, made his head swim. The professional drone of his best man speech was ashes in his mouth.

“You’re sure?” Eijiro heard himself ask, his voice gravel.

Denki laughed, a bright, airy sound. “I’m a porn star, Ei. I’m always sure. Now get over here and ruin me.”

Eijiro crawled onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He settled between Denki’s thighs. The scent of him was overwhelming up close—sweet arousal, clean skin, a hint of expensive lube. Eijiro’s cockhead nudged against Denki’s entrance, slick and hot.

Denki’s playful smirk softened. His yellow eyes searched Eijiro’s face. “Just fuck me, okay? Don’t think. I don’t want you to think.”

Eijiro leaned down, bracing himself on one forearm. His other hand guided his cock. He pushed forward, just an inch. The tight, wet heat of Denki’s pussy swallowed him, clenching instantly. Denki gasped, his head falling back against the pillows.

“More,” he whispered, his hands coming up to claw at Eijiro’s broad back. “Give me all of it. I can take it.”

Eijiro thrust forward, a slow, relentless slide. Denki’s body yielded, stretching to accommodate his girth. A thin, high whine escaped Denki’s throat. His heels dug into Eijiro’s ass, urging him deeper. Eijiro buried himself to the hilt, their bodies flush. He stopped, shuddering, feeling Denki’s pussy pulse around him.

“See?” Denki panted, a tear leaking from the corner of his eye. His smile was wobbly, triumphant. “Told you. Now move. Please.”

Eijiro moved. It was a slow, almost agonizing drag of his hips, pulling out just halfway before sliding back in with the same deliberate, measured pace. Denki’s pussy clenched around him, a fluttering, desperate grip.

“No,” Denki gasped, his nails digging half-moons into Eijiro’s shoulders. “No, no, no. Not like that. Don’t you dare fuck me gentle.”

Eijiro didn’t speed up. He kept that maddening, shallow rhythm, his jaw tight, his red eyes dark with a conflict Denki could taste. “You said you wanted it,” Eijiro ground out, his voice strained.

“I want you to ruin me!” Denki cried, arching his back. The yellow gem on his clit caught the light. “I want you to fuck me like you hate me! Like you’re trying to break the bed! Please, Ei, please, I need it rough, I need it hard, fuck me like you mean it!”

His begging dissolved into a whine as Eijiro finally, finally snapped. A guttural sound tore from Eijiro’s throat. He hauled Denki’s hips up off the mattress, angled him deeper, and slammed back into him.

The force punched the air from Denki’s lungs. A sharp, beautiful cry ripped out of him. “Yes! God, yes, like that!”

Eijiro set a brutal, pounding pace. The bedframe rattled against the wall. The wet, slapping sound of their skin meeting filled the room, syncopated with Denki’s ragged moans. Eijiro’s huge cock stretched him exquisitely, every thrust a claim.

“So good,” Denki babbled, his head thrashing on the pillows. “Your cock is so fucking perfect, so thick, I feel it in my stomach, I can’t—oh, fuck!”

Eijiro leaned down, his breath hot against Denki’s ear. “This what you wanted, you little slut?” he growled, the words raw and unfamiliar in his mouth. “You wanted me to forget my best friend’s wedding? To forget everything?”

“Yes!” Denki sobbed, his legs locking around Eijiro’s waist. “Make me forget my name! Just fuck me, fuck me, I’m yours, I’m your fucking whore!”

The crude surrender shattered Eijiro’s last restraint. He drove into Denki with a frenzy, each thrust deeper, harder. Denki’s cries pitched higher, his body tightening, coiling. The glittering gem on his clit was a beacon, and Eijiro dropped a hand between them, his thumb finding it, pressing.

Denki screamed. His back arched off the bed, his pussy clamping down in rhythmic, pulsing spasms around Eijiro’s cock. A gush of wet heat soaked them both, Denki’s orgasm hitting him like a seizure, his body shaking uncontrollably as he squirted.

Eijiro watched him come apart, the sight pulling his own release from the base of his spine. With three final, jagged thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt and groaned, his own climax tearing through him. He spilled deep inside, heat pumping into Denki’s clenching warmth until he was empty, spent, collapsing forward to brace his weight on trembling arms.

Silence, broken only by their ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city. Denki lay beneath him, boneless, a slick, trembling mess. A slow, dazed smile spread across his flushed face.

Denki surged up, capturing Eijiro’s mouth in a deep, messy kiss. His tongue was insistent, tasting of sweat and salt and come. Eijiro groaned into it, his body responding instantly, his softening cock already twitching back to life against Denki’s thigh.

“Feels like you’re not done with me,” Denki whispered against his lips, his hand sliding down Eijiro’s stomach to wrap around his thickening length. He gave a slow, slick stroke. “Good. I’m gonna fuck you again. And again. I’m not gonna stop until we both pass out.”

Eijiro shuddered, a full-body tremor of exhaustion and renewed want. “Denki—”

“Nuh-uh,” Denki cut him off, nipping at his lower lip. “No talking. Just feeling.” He pushed at Eijiro’s shoulder until the bigger man rolled onto his back. Denki straddled him, his wet pussy a hot brand on Eijiro’s stomach. The city lights painted his lean frame in silver and shadow.

“Look at you,” Denki breathed, his yellow eyes roaming over Eijiro’s wrecked form. “All that muscle, all that duty… melted. For me.” He leaned down, tracing the shell of Eijiro’s ear with his tongue. “Your best friend is probably losing his mind right now. And you’re here. With me.”

Eijiro’s eyes closed. A low sound of pained acknowledgement escaped him. “He is.”

“And do you care?” Denki asked, his voice a sly, seductive whisper. He ground down, the slickness of him smearing across Eijiro’s abs.

Eijiro’s hands came up to grip Denki’s hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He opened his eyes, his red gaze dark and resigned. “No.”

Denki’s smile was brilliant. “That’s my good boy.” He reached between them, guiding Eijiro’s fully hard cock to his entrance. He sank down in one smooth, breathtaking slide, taking him all the way to the root without a flinch. A sharp, satisfied gasp tore from his throat.

“Fuck,” Eijiro choked out, his head tipping back into the pillows. The heat was unbearable, perfect. Denki felt impossibly tight, his body greedily gripping the intrusion.

“That’s the idea,” Denki panted, beginning to move. He set a slow, rolling rhythm, using his thighs to ride Eijiro’s cock with practiced, devastating ease. Each rise and fall was a deliberate, sensual torture. “You feel so deep like this. I can feel you in my throat.”

Eijiro could only watch, transfixed, as Denki used his body. The play of muscle under sweat-slick skin, the bounce of his small breasts, the blissed-out focus on his face. Denki’s hands roamed over his own chest, pinching his pink nipples until they were hard, pebbled peaks.

“Touch me,” Denki demanded, his rhythm stuttering. “Come on, Ei. Claim it. I’m yours right now. Your little wedding slut.”

The crude words broke something else loose inside Eijiro. He sat up abruptly, wrapping his arms around Denki’s waist and crushing their bodies together. He took over the pace, driving up into him with powerful, upward thrusts that forced cries from Denki’s lips with every impact.

“Yours,” Denki sobbed, his arms looping around Eijiro’s neck, clinging as he was bounced in his lap. “All yours. Nobody else’s. Not tonight.”

Eijiro buried his face in the crook of Denki’s neck, breathing in his scent, fucking up into him with a steady, piston-like drive that was more about possession than pleasure. The pleasure was just a devastating side effect. The bedframe resumed its frantic knocking against the wall, a relentless drumbeat to their ruin.

Denki’s cries grew higher, tighter. His body began to quake, his pussy fluttering wildly around Eijiro’s cock. “I’m gonna—Ei, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” Eijiro growled into his skin. “Soak me. Let me feel it.”

The command tipped Denki over. He screamed, a raw, shattered sound, as his orgasm ripped through him. A hot gush of liquid spilled between them, soaking their joined bodies, the sheets beneath. He trembled violently, his muscles seizing, his nails raking down Eijiro’s back.

Eijiro held him through it, his own thrusts becoming erratic, chasing his end. The feel of Denki coming apart in his arms, the absolute surrender, was what finally undid him. With a final, deep grind, he spilled inside him again, a low, continuous groan rumbling from his chest as he emptied himself.

They collapsed backward, a tangle of spent limbs. Denki was a dead weight on top of him, still faintly trembling. The room smelled of sex and sweat and salt. For a long time, the only sound was their ragged, slowing breaths.

Eijiro stared at the ceiling, feeling the cold drip of reality seep back into his veins. Somewhere, in a ballroom full of flowers and music, Katsuki Bakugo was alone. And his best man was here, buried in a stranger, for the second time.

Denki kissed him again, slow and deep, his tongue mapping the exhaustion in Eijiro’s mouth. “Mine,” he whispered against his lips, the word a sticky promise. “Think I’m gonna keep you.”

Eijiro’s breath hitched. He didn’t have the will to argue. Denki’s hand slid down his stomach, fingers wrapping around his softening cock. He worked him with a slick, knowing grip, his thumb smearing the mess of cum and slickness that already coated him. Eijiro felt himself thickening again under that relentless touch, a traitorous pulse of heat that had nothing to do with thought.

“Time for round three,” Denki murmured, his yellow eyes gleaming in the low light. He shifted, moving down the bed until his head was level with Eijiro’s hips. He didn’t ask. He took Eijiro’s cock into his mouth in one slow, swallowing slide.

Eijiro doesn't know if he'll survive tonight.