Minato's fingers tightened on the doorknob, a subtle tension rippling through his frame as he swung the door open. The fresh morning breeze from the village wafted in, carrying hints of distant training grounds and blooming flora, but it did little to clear the haze of post-coital satisfaction still lingering in his mind.
Standing there on the threshold, fist poised to knock, was a man whose presence Minato had half-anticipated, half-dreaded. Tall and imposing, with sharp green eyes that held the weight of untold battles, scarred skin, and an aura of quiet intensity—it had to be Eren Yeager. Mikasa's husband. The man whose wife Minato had spent the night and morning exploring in every intimate detail, her body yielding to his touches, his thrusts, his marks.
Eren Yeager, Minato mused inwardly, his curiosity piqued rather than any darker emotion stirring. The husband of the woman I just claimed so thoroughly. I wonder what reaction he's processing right now, seeing her like this—flushed and sweaty, clad only in that teasing black lace bra and panties that hug her curves so perfectly.
The hickeys I left blooming across her neck, her collarbone, down to the swell of her breasts and the insides of her thighs. Does he notice how her skin still gleams from our shower session, how her legs might still tremble from the way I pinned her against the wall and drove into her? Fascinating—most men would shatter at the sight, but let's see how this unfolds.
Minato felt no possessiveness, only a genuine intrigue about the dynamics at play. How did a relationship like theirs function, with Mikasa's fierce loyalty intertwined with… whatever this was between her and him?
Before Minato could break the silence with a diplomatic quip or excuse to slip away, Mikasa moved past him in a fluid rush. Her lithe form, still radiating the heat of their recent encounters, brushed against his arm lightly—intentionally or not, it sent a spark through him.
She threw herself into Eren's arms, enveloping him in a deep, heartfelt hug that pressed her nearly bare body against his clothed one. "Welcome back," she breathed, her voice transforming in an instant.
It was no longer the husky, desire-laced murmur she'd used with Minato during their teasing breakfast gropes; now it dripped with a soft tenderness, a loving warmth that wrapped around the words like silk.
Eren's strong arms came around her waist without a moment's hesitation, pulling her closer as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His hands settled possessively yet gently on the curve of her lower back, fingers splaying just above the edge of her panties where Minato's handprints might still faintly linger from their earlier play.
Minato observed closely, noting the absence of any storm in Eren's eyes—no flicker of jealousy, no shadow of betrayal. Instead, those green depths shone with pure, reciprocal love, mirroring the affection in Mikasa's gaze. Even with her in such a provocative state—sweat-sheened skin glistening under the morning light, the skimpy lace barely containing her full breasts, hickeys scattered like passionate constellations across her body—Eren appeared unfazed.
His expression softened further, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. He was simply relieved, overjoyed even, to hold her again, as if the details of her appearance were mere footnotes to the reunion.
Intriguing, Minato thought, standing there with his arms crossed, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. This is uncharted territory for me. In my experience, walking into a scene like this—your wife emerging from the house with another man, her body marked by his desires—the husband erupts in fury or crumbles in sorrow.
Shouts, accusations, perhaps even a challenge. But Eren? He's embracing her fully, eyes locked on hers with nothing but love. No questions, no demands. How does their bond work? Is it built on such unshakeable trust that nothing external can dent it? Or is there something deeper, a shared history that renders these moments insignificant? I'd love to understand it—purely from a curious standpoint. Relationships like this could teach even a Hokage a thing or two about resilience.
Mikasa clung to Eren a moment longer, her face buried in the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent of earth and exertion from his journeys. Eren, my Eren, she reflected inwardly, a wave of profound warmth washing over her, mingling with the residual tingles from Minato's touches.
You're back, safe and whole. I missed you terribly—every night alone was a void, filled with worries about titans and battles. And what I did with Minato… it was a release, a sensual escape that made my body sing in ways I craved during your absence.
His hands on my skin, his cock filling me so completely, the teasing pinches and thrusts that left me moaning and marked. It felt incredible, sinful even, but now, holding you, it pales in comparison to this love. I feel cherished, anchored. Guilty? A little, but mostly relieved that you're here, and our connection remains untouched. You make me feel truly seen, beyond the physical.
"I missed you so much," Mikasa whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder, her fingers tracing light patterns on his back—teasingly innocent compared to the bold strokes she'd used on Minato earlier.
Eren pulled back slightly, his hands sliding up to frame her face with a gentleness that belied his warrior's build. "I missed you too," he replied softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. The gesture was simple, affectionate, and it drew a soft sigh from Mikasa.
In response, she tilted her head up, capturing his lips in a deeper kiss. It started slow, sensual—her tongue brushing his tentatively, building to a passionate meld that had her pressing her body flush against him.
Eren reciprocated fully, one hand tangling in her dark hair, the other dipping lower to rest on her hip, thumb grazing the lace of her panties without a hint of hesitation. His eyes closed in contentment, the kiss deepening as if they were alone in the world. Minato stood mere feet away, watching the display with detached fascination, the air thick with the couple's rekindled intimacy.
Their chemistry is palpable, Minato pondered, his curiosity deepening. She's so open with him, that kiss laced with a sensuality that's both loving and heated. And he meets her halfway, no awkwardness despite the outfit or the marks. How do they maintain this harmony? Is it forgiveness baked into their foundation, or an understanding that transcends conventional jealousy? I'd almost want to ask, but that would shatter the moment. Still, it's enlightening—makes me wonder about the intricacies of long-term bonds versus fleeting passions.
After several lingering moments, their lips parted with a soft, wet sound, both breathing a touch heavier. Mikasa's cheeks held a fresh flush, her gray eyes sparkling as she gazed up at Eren. His focus shifted then, landing on Minato with a calm, appraising look—no hostility, just polite acknowledgment. A faint nod accompanied it, as if Minato were an expected guest rather than an intruder in this domestic scene.
Sensing the shift, Mikasa turned slightly, her hand still entwined with Eren's. She offered a composed smile, though her body language remained intimately close to her husband. "Eren, this is Lord Hokage," she said smoothly, her voice regaining its professional edge. "I'll be working as his secretary starting soon. And this is Eren Yeager, my lovely husband." As she uttered the last words, she leaned in and planted a quick, teasing kiss on Eren's cheek, her lips lingering just a second longer than necessary, drawing a subtle smile from him.
Eren extended his free hand toward Minato, his grip firm and steady when they shook. "It's my honor to meet you, Lord Hokage," he said evenly, his tone respectful, eyes meeting Minato's without a trace of unease. He seemed genuinely unbothered, perhaps even grateful for whatever role Minato played in Mikasa's new life here.
Minato returned the handshake, his mind whirring. Straightforward, no undercurrents of tension. Curious indeed—how does he compartmentalize it all? Their relationship must be forged in fire to withstand this without cracking. Outwardly, he nodded. "The pleasure's mine, Eren. Mikasa speaks highly of you."
Eren released the shake, his arm slipping back around Mikasa's waist in a protective yet casual hold. He glanced down at her outfit again, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes as he took in the sheer lace and exposed skin. "I think we should go inside, considering your outfit," he suggested lightly, his voice carrying a teasing lilt that made Mikasa's blush deepen.
She couldn't help but feel a rush of embarrassment mixed with arousal—standing there exposed in front of both men, her body still humming from Minato's earlier attentions. God, this is mortifying yet oddly thrilling, she thought, her core clenching at the memory of Minato's fingers teasing her during breakfast.
Eren's gaze on me like this, knowing but not judging… it makes me feel desired in a whole new way. I feel empowered, loved, even as the lace clings to my damp skin. "Sure," she agreed with a soft laugh, taking Eren's hand and leading him inside. At the door, she paused, glancing back at Minato with a knowing glint in her eye—teasing, perhaps, with the sway of her hips. "Don't you have your meetings? You'll be late."
Minato chuckled lightly, masking his intrigue. "Sure," he replied, watching as she shut the door with a definitive click.
He lingered on the porch for a few minutes, the village sounds fading into the background.
So, Eren is still her priority, woven into the fabric of her life, Minato reflected, turning to leave. Their dynamic is a puzzle—trust, love, acceptance in the face of… complications.
How it all works without fraying at the edges is something worth pondering. Maybe I'll get a glimpse through our working relationship. With that, he headed off, curiosity fueling his steps.
Inside, Mikasa pulled Eren further in, her mind settling into contentment. With Eren here, everything aligns. The teasing sensuality with Minato was fun, electric, but this is home. I feel balanced, ready for whatever comes.
They shared another kiss in the privacy of their home, Eren's hands exploring her curves with familiar ease, drawing soft moans from her as the day unfolded
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