Minato leaned against the bathroom doorframe, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watched Mikasa catch her breath. Water droplets still clung to her skin, tracing lazy paths down her toned body after their steamy shower session.
Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses, and her pussy still throbbed from the relentless pounding he'd given her against the tiled wall. Damn, she's insatiable, he thought, his cock twitching at the memory of her moans echoing in the confined space.
But now, a different hunger gnawed at him—the kind that required actual sustenance. "I'm starving," he announced, his voice low and teasing. "And you look good enough to eat, but I think we need real food before I devour you again."
Mikasa shot him a playful glare, wrapping a towel around herself briefly before slipping into the kitchen. She felt deliciously sore, every step reminding her of how thoroughly he'd claimed her. Eren's away fighting, risking everything, and here I am, letting Minato fuck me senseless in our own home, she mused, a mix of guilt and exhilaration bubbling inside her.
But the guilt faded quickly; Minato's touch was addictive, his stamina unmatched. She decided to tease him back, opting for just her black lace bra and matching panties—skimpy things that hugged her curves like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. Her full breasts strained against the fabric, nipples pebbling from the cool air, and the panties rode high on her hips, accentuating her firm ass.
Minato followed, pulling on a pair of loose shorts that did nothing to hide the outline of his semi-hard cock. He plopped down at the breakfast table, eyes glued to her as she moved around the kitchen with graceful efficiency.
The morning light filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow on her skin, making her look like a goddess.
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, enjoying the show. "You know, cooking in that outfit should be illegal," he drawled, his blue eyes darkening with lust. "It's distracting as hell."
Mikasa glanced over her shoulder, a coy smile tugging at her lips. "Distracting? Or tempting?" She bent slightly to reach for a pan, deliberately arching her back to give him a better view of her ass. Let him squirm a little, she thought wickedly. He thinks he can tease me all he wants? Two can play that game.
"Tempting enough to make me forget about food altogether," he replied, his voice husky. But he stayed seated, watching her chop vegetables and stir the eggs with military precision—remnants of her shinobhi training shining through even in domestic tasks. The aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filled the air, mingling with the lingering scent of their earlier passion.
Finally, the food was ready. Mikasa plated it up—scrambled eggs fluffy and golden, crispy bacon, toasted bread slathered in butter, and a side of fresh fruit. She approached the table, hips swaying seductively, and placed his plate in front of him. As she leaned over to serve, her breasts brushed against his arm, sending a spark through both of them.
Minato couldn't resist; his hand shot out, cupping her ass cheek through the thin black panties and giving it a firm squeeze. The fabric was soft, but her flesh yielded perfectly under his fingers, warm and inviting.
"Mmm, you still not satisfied?" Mikasa purred, her voice laced with mock surprise. She didn't pull away, instead pressing back into his touch slightly, feeling his fingers knead her like dough. God, his hands are magic, she thought, her core heating up again. How does he have so much energy? Eren would be passed out by now, but Minato… he's like a machine.
"How can I be satisfied when such a beautiful woman is prancing around in front of me like this?" Minato countered, his thumb slipping under the edge of her panties to trace the curve of her ass crack teasingly. "I just can't control myself around you, Mikasa. You're too damn sexy." He squeezed harder, pulling her closer so her thigh bumped against his leg.
Mikasa shook her head, biting her lip to stifle a moan, and continued serving. She poured him coffee, her free hand steady despite the distraction. But as she finished and turned to sit in her own chair, Minato's arm snaked around her waist, yanking her onto his lap instead. She landed with a soft gasp, her ass nestling perfectly against his growing erection, which poked insistently through his shorts.
"This is where you should sit," he growled, one hand sliding up to squeeze her breast through the bra. His fingers found her nipple, pinching it gently at first, then rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until it hardened into a peak. The lace scratched deliciously against her sensitive skin, heightening the sensation.
Mikasa wanted to protest—This is ridiculous; we need to eat—but the words died on her tongue. She knew arguing would only make him more insistent, more dominant, and a part of her craved that. Fine, if he wants to play, I'll play, she decided, shifting her hips deliberately to grind against his cock.
"Mmmh… sure," she murmured, her voice breathy as she wiggled her ass on his lap, feeling him throb in response.
Breakfast turned into a sensual game of touches and teases. Minato fed her bites of egg from his fork, his other hand roaming freely—slipping between her thighs to stroke her pussy lips through the panties, which were already dampening. "Open wide," he commanded playfully, popping a piece of bacon into her mouth while his fingers circled her clit lightly, just enough to make her squirm.
Mikasa retaliated by reaching back, her hand dipping into his shorts to wrap around his thick shaft. She stroked him slowly, thumbing the head where pre-cum beaded, making him groan. "You're the one who can't keep your hands off," she teased, leaning back against his chest so her breasts pressed into his arm.
Their moans mingled with the clink of utensils—soft "ahhs" and "mmms" as fingers explored, lips brushed necks, and bodies heated up. This is so wrong, but it feels so right, she thought, her pussy clenching around nothing as his fingers dipped inside her panties, sliding into her wetness. Eren's out there fighting, and I'm here getting finger-fucked over breakfast. But Minato makes me feel alive, desired in ways I never knew.
By the time the plates were empty, neither could hold back. Minato swept the table clear with one arm, lifting her onto it and yanking her panties aside. He buried his face between her thighs, tongue lapping at her clit with expert flicks while his fingers pumped into her. Mikasa's hands fisted in his blond hair, her moans echoing—"Oh fuck, Minato, yes! Don't stop!" She came hard, juices coating his chin, but he wasn't done.
Flipping her over, he entered her from behind, his cock slamming home in one thrust. The table creaked under their rhythm, her breasts bouncing as he fucked her senseless, leaving fresh hickeys on her neck and shoulders. "You're mine right now," he grunted, spanking her ass lightly. "Say it."
"Yours… ahh, fuck me harder!" she cried, orgasming again as he filled her with his cum.
Hours later, after cleaning up and another quick round on the couch that left her covered in sweat and new love bites, they stood at the front door.
Minato was dressed sharply for his meetings as Hokage, but his eyes still devoured her disheveled form—hair tousled, skin marked, wearing just a robe that gaped open teasingly.
"I am looking forward to your performance as my secretary, Mikasa Ackerman—the wife of Eren Yeager… and the woman who still loves to get fucked by me when her husband's away, risking his life for her," Minato said, his voice dripping with wicked amusement as he traced a finger along her jaw.
His mean words should have stung, but they didn't; as long as he didn't meddle in her life with Eren, she could handle the thrill. Mikasa stepped closer, pressing her body against his. "Sure, Lord Hokage," she replied sultrily, her hand grazing his crotch. "I love performing my duties as your secretary… and I'll be looking forward to getting fucked by you every chance I get." She pulled him down for a final, steamy kiss—tongues battling, hands groping, leaving her whimpering and needy.
With a reluctant groan, Minato turned and opened the door to leave for his meetings. But instead of an empty porch, there was a man standing right there, fist raised as if about to knock.
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