A few days rolled by in that hazy, sex-fueled blur—Katsuki sneaking moments with Izuku whenever Sakura was out, pounding her in hidden corners of the house, her moans muffled against his hand while Kenzo napped nearby. But then came the invite to this big rich-people party—a gala for Bakugou Enterprises’ elite circle, black-tie bullshit with champagne and fake smiles. Katsuki had to go, and Sakura? Fuck, she was thrilled, prancing around in her walk-in closet like a queen. “This dress is Versace, darling—new season,” she’d gush, twirling in the mirror, diamonds dripping from her neck and ears. “And these earrings? Custom from Cartier. Everyone’s gonna stare.”

Katsuki dressed up too—tailored black suit hugging his broad shoulders, crisp white shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of his chest, hair styled back. He looked devastating, like a walking wet dream. Izuku watched from the doorway, pouting hard, arms crossed under her tits in her tiny tank top. “You’re going without me? With… her?”