Izuku’s legs felt like jelly as the elevator descended from Katsuki’s penthouse. She leaned against the mirrored wall, catching her breath, feeling the tissues stuffed inside her pussy shifting with every step. Cum still leaked a little despite it, soaking her thong even more. Her thighs rubbed slick together, her tits aching from all the squeezing and slapping, nipples raw against the thin dress fabric. The drive home was a blur—traffic lights smearing like her thoughts. Guilt already gnawing at her edges, but she pushed it down. It’s for Kai, she told herself over and over. For us.

She slipped into their apartment quietly, the familiar vanilla scent hitting her like a slap of reality. Kicked off her heels, peeled off the ruined dress and thong—tissues falling out with a wet plop—and jumped straight into the shower. Hot water pounded her skin, washing away the sweat, the cum, the marks. She scrubbed hard between her legs, fingers slipping over her swollen pussy, and bit back a moan when it throbbed at the memory. No. Stop. She dried off fast, threw on a simple oversized tee and shorts—nothing slutty, just comfy wife mode—and headed to the kitchen.