The office was silent except for their breathing.
Mikasa lay draped across Minato's chest, limp and trembling, her cheek pressed to the slick, warm plane of his pectorals. His heart thundered beneath her ear (steady, powerful, alive).
Sweat cooled on her skin, but the heat radiating from his body kept her from shivering. One of his large hands idly traced the curve of her waist, thumb brushing the fresh bruises blooming along her hipbones like dark petals.
The other hand rested possessively on the small of her back, fingers splayed wide, holding her exactly where he wanted her.
His cock was still inside her, half-hard, plugging the thick mess he'd left behind. Every tiny shift sent a slow trickle of come sliding down her thigh.
She felt… undone.
Owned.
Cherished in the most profane way possible.
Mikasa turned her face into his chest and inhaled. Sandalwood, sweat, sex. The scent of ruin.
"I love Eren," she whispered against his skin, voice raw from screaming. "I need you to know that. I love him with every piece of me that still belongs to the girl I used to be."
Minato's hand didn't stop its lazy journey along her spine. If anything, his touch grew softer, almost tender.
"I know," he murmured, lips brushing her temple. "Keep going."
She swallowed. Tears pricked again, but these were quieter.
"My love for him is… sunlight. It's the scarf he wrapped around me when I was nine. It's the way he says my name like a prayer even when he's bleeding out. I would burn the world down for him. I would die smiling if it meant he lived."
Her fingers curled against Minato's chest, nails scraping lightly over a nipple. He hummed, pleased.
"But you…" She laughed, wet and broken. "You're midnight. You're the storm that rips the roof off and makes me grateful for the rain. I don't love you the way I love him. I love the way you make me feel. I love how you break me open and put me back together wrong. I love how you choke me until I see stars and then kiss the tears away like they're yours to taste. I crave your cruelty, Hokage-sama. I crave the way you look at me when I'm sobbing on your cock like I'm the most beautiful thing you've ever destroyed."
Minato's hand slid lower, cupping her ass, squeezing the tender flesh he'd spanked raw earlier.
"That's natural," he said calmly, as if she'd commented on the weather. "Women have always fallen for power. I'm the strongest man in this village (maybe this world). I'm handsome, charming when I want to be, and I fuck like I fight: without mercy and without equal. Of course your body worships me. Of course your cunt weeps when I walk into a room."
He tilted her chin up with two fingers, forcing her to meet his eyes. They were impossibly blue, amused, utterly unbothered.
"I don't need your heart, Mikasa. I have your surrender. That's enough."
She bit her lip, tasting him there still.
"You'll never have what Eren has," she said, voice trembling but steady. "Not ever."
Minato smiled, slow and lethal.
"I don't want it. Let the boy keep your fairy tales. I'll keep the part that matters: the part that squirts all over my cock when I call you a traitor. The part that begs me to breed you while you cry his name."
His hand slipped between them, fingers scooping the come leaking out of her, pushing it back inside with deliberate care. She whimpered.
"Go home tonight," he continued, voice velvet. "Let him make sweet, clumsy love to you. Let him kiss every bruise I left and think they're from training. And when he's panting inside you, trying so hard to please his perfect wife… you'll be thinking of me. You'll be clenching around his cock and remembering how much better it feels when I split you in half."
Mikasa opened her mouth to deny it.
She couldn't.
Because it had already started.
Last week, when Eren had come home for one stolen night, she'd closed her eyes while he moved above her and seen blond hair instead of brown. She'd bitten her lip until it bled to keep from moaning the wrong name.
Minato saw it on her face and laughed softly.
"Exactly."
He lifted her off his lap with humiliating ease. Come gushed out of her the moment he slipped free, splattering onto his thigh. She flushed crimson, but he only tucked himself away, already reaching for his discarded Hokage cloak.
"I have to go. I need to go to Hyuga Clan"
He said it casually, like he hadn't just fucked her senseless on national paperwork.
Mikasa slid off the desk on shaky legs, thighs sticky, breasts still bare. Without a word she knelt, gathered his haori, helped him slide his arms into the sleeves, fastened the flame-patterned cloak at his throat.
Her fingers lingered on the strong column of his neck.
He caught her wrist, pressed a kiss to her pulse.
"Clean yourself up. Use my bath. Take whatever clothes you need from the sealed scroll in the cabinet (third shelf, behind the mission reports). Then go home to your husband."
He vanished in a yellow flash, leaving only the faint scent of ozone and the ache between her legs.
Mikasa stood there for a long moment, naked and dripping, feeling the silence settle like judgment.
Then she walked to the private washroom attached to the Hokage's office (marble floors, cedar tub big enough for four, water always hot thanks to hidden seals).
She sank into the steaming water and scrubbed until her skin was pink, until the water ran clear of him. It didn't help. She could still feel him in her bones.
From the scroll she summoned a fresh outfit: soft grey shorts that barely covered her ass, a loose black t-shirt that smelled faintly of his detergent. No bra. No panties.
She didn't bother. They'd only get ruined again tomorrow night.
The walk home was quiet. Konoha slept under early these days.
When she pushed open the door of their small apartment, the smell of miso and grilled fish hit her like a memory.
Eren was at the stove, shirtless, hair tied back, humming off-key. He turned, and his whole face lit up.
"You're home."
She crossed the room in three steps and threw herself into his arms. He caught her easily, laughing, spinning her once before setting her down. She buried her face in his neck and held on like he was the only solid thing left in the world.
They ate breakfast at the tiny table (rice, fish, pickled vegetables, green tea). He talked about training, about a new recruit who'd puked after the first lap. She smiled in all the right places, laughed when he teased her about sleeping in.
After, they ended up in bed, sunlight slanting through the curtains. Eren lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other wrapped around her waist.
Mikasa curled into his side, palm sliding over the ridges of his abs, tracing old scars she knew by heart. She was wearing the shorts and t-shirt; he wore only low-slung sleep pants.
Her thumb brushed a smudge of crimson on his collarbone.
Lipstick.
Bright, cherry red. Definitely not hers.
She raised an eyebrow. "New junior?"
Eren flushed, but didn't look guilty (just sheepish). "Yeah. Sixteen. Total virgin. Kept whispering 'Yeager-san, is this okay?' every five seconds. It was… cute."
Mikasa traced the mark with a fingernail. "Did you take her virginity on a rooftop again?"
"Storage shed behind the academy," he admitted, grinning. "She cried a little. Happy tears, I think."
Mikasa hummed, leaning in to lick the lipstick off his skin. "Was she tight?"
"Like a fist," he groaned, hand sliding down to squeeze her ass. "Came in like thirty seconds the first time. Had to go three rounds before she stopped shaking."
Mikasa laughed softly, nipping his earlobe. "Poor baby."
His eyes flicked to her body (the bruises blooming across her breasts, the finger marks on her hips, the faint bite on her throat).
"Looks like the Hokage was in a mood."
She stretched languidly, letting the shirt ride up to expose the handprints on her waist.
"He was… thorough."
Eren's fingers traced one particularly dark bruise on her inner thigh, reverent.
"He really marked you up this time."
"He forbade me from sleeping with anyone else," she said quietly.
"Only you and him. Said if he finds another man's scent on me he'll punish me in ways I won't enjoy."
Eren's jaw tightened, but his voice stayed light. "Possessive bastard."
"Very," she agreed, kissing the corner of his mouth. "He likes to remind me who I belong to when you're not around."
Eren rolled them so he was on top, settling between her thighs. His eyes searched hers.
"Was he better than me again?"
She cupped his face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones.
"You know the answer, Eren."
He smiled (rueful, beautiful, accepting).
"Yeah. I do."
She pulled him down into a kiss, soft and deep and full of everything she could never say aloud.
I love you.
I'll always love you.
You're my home.
They made love slowly, sweetly. He touched her like she was sacred, kissed every bruise like an apology and a thank you at once. When he slid inside her, she wrapped her legs around him and held him close, whispering his name like a promise.
But when she came (quiet, gentle, tears in her eyes again), it was Minato's hand she imagined around her throat.
It was Minato's voice in her ear telling her she was his perfect little traitor.
After, they lay tangled, sunlight warming their skin.
Eren fell asleep first, breathing soft against her neck.
Mikasa stared at the ceiling, fingers tracing idle patterns on his back.
Her body still hummed, restless.
Between her legs, she was wet again (not from Eren's gentle lovemaking, but from the memory of being bent over a desk and used like a toy).
She pressed her thighs together, biting her lip until it hurt.
Tomorrow night, she would kneel for Minato again.
She would cry Eren's name while Minato ruined her.
She would come home wearing new bruises and kiss her husband like nothing had changed.
And the day after that, and the day after that, forever.
Because she belonged to both of them now.
One owned her heart.
The other owned her body.
And the war inside her never ended.
It only got quieter when one of them was inside her.
—————
Join my p@treon Armaan887 for extra 22 chapters