Chapter 30 - minato 30

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The door's soft click echoed through the hushed room like a verdict, sealing Mikasa in with the man who could topple empires.

She stood before Minato, her bathrobe a fragile veil against his gaze, the air between them crackling with unspoken command.

He erased the space in a heartbeat, his arms encircling her waist with effortless authority, drawing her flush against the hard planes of his body.


Heat bloomed from her core, a molten betrayal she couldn't deny—the intoxicating rush of yielding to a power that dwarfed her own.

Admitting it burned: bedding a man like the Fourth Hokage, whose legend alone could ignite wars, stirred a primal excitement unmatched since her wedding night with Eren.


That first time with her husband had been a spark of promise, raw and fervent, but it fizzled into disappointment, his stamina crumbling under the weight of inexperience.

She'd hoped he'd evolve, sharpen that edge, but he hadn't—forcing her into the arms of others to quench the fire he couldn't sustain.


Yet, a twisted pattern emerged in their shadows: each time she returned from another man's bed, Eren would claim her with a vengeance, his thrusts fiercer, his release delayed by the fury of inadequacy.

At first, she chalked it up to coincidence, but the truth clawed free—his anger at failing her, at watching her seek satisfaction elsewhere, fueled a temporary blaze.


It was a sad, savage cycle, his passion a desperate bid to reclaim what the world had already bartered away. And now, pressed against Minato's unyielding form, Mikasa felt the full, forbidden thrill of what she'd once dismissed as madness: the craze for the strong, the way women hurled themselves at titans like him for a single taste of that dominance. Her body thrummed with it, an uncharted ecstasy that made Eren's efforts feel like echoes in the wind.


Minato's palm glided over the curve of her ass, a languid exploration that mapped her reactions like territory to conquer. Her subtle arch, the hitch in her breath—it all fed his quiet awe.

She loves that husband of hers, no doubt, he thought, yet here she melts for me. The contrast was a drug, amplifying his control.


"How does it feel, Mikasa?" he whispered, lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice a silken command laced with dark amusement.

He read her unraveling in the scarlet flush creeping up her neck, the way her eyes—once bold challengers in the morning light—now darted from his, surrendering to the vulnerability he evoked. She was his to dismantle, piece by exquisite piece.


He kneaded her flesh harder, grinding her hips against the rigid evidence of his desire, her warmth seeping through fabric like an invitation.

His other hand spanned her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, fingers splaying possessively over her abdomen. "Such a yielding body," he murmured, the praise a velvet chain, binding her with its weight. Silence was her armor, but he wouldn't allow it.


"A compliment deserves gratitude," he chided softly, withdrawing his hand from her ass only to tilt her chin upward, exposing the full bloom of her blush—cheeks like rose petals crushed under his thumb.

His eyes bored into hers, twin sapphires gleaming with predatory intent. "You played the unbreakable warrior this morning… but look at you now. So fragile, so mine to break."


"I'm… not weak," she breathed, the words a fragile protest, her voice trembling like a leaf in his gale. Defiance flickered there, a spark he ached to extinguish—or fan into flames.


"Oh, little one," he growled, low and lethal, "we'll test that resolve." His mouth claimed hers in a devastating crush, lips molding to her softness with the force of a conqueror staking his ground. The taste of her—sweet, reluctant surrender—ignited him; his cock strained against his shorts, a throbbing testament to her allure.


Mikasa's world narrowed to the invasion of his kiss, but she rallied, parting her lips to meet his tongue with hers in a savage duel.

She seized the rhythm, dominating the wet, heated clash, her aggression a desperate grasp for power in this storm. Her fingers tangled in his golden hair, pulling him deeper as moans escaped them both—"Mmmh… mmh"—the room alive with the slick symphony of their hunger.


He groaned into her mouth, hands reclaiming her ass in a double grip, kneading the plush curves with bruising reverence. "Gods, the sounds you make," he rasped between kisses, each squeeze drawing fresh whimpers from her throat—"Mmmh… mmm"—that stoked his fire higher. She danced on her toes under his touch, hips grinding instinctively against him, her body a live wire of need she hated to crave.


They broke apart, breaths mingling in the scant space between, her arms looped around his neck like a lover's vow, his palms anchoring her in place.

Their eyes locked—his smoldering with triumph, hers a tempest of lust and loathing. "Mmmh," she sighed, the sound involuntary, a plea wrapped in silk.


Seizing the moment, Mikasa surged forward, capturing his lips in a kiss of her own making—fiercer, hungrier, her tongue plunging deep to claim territory.

He chuckled darkly against her, the vibration sending shivers to her core. "There you are—finally honest with that fire," he teased, his hand delivering a sharp, stinging spank that made her gasp and arch into him.


"Mmmh… I'm just feeding the beast in you," she countered, voice husky with feigned control, even as she nipped his lower lip, sucking it between her teeth before delving back in.

Their tongues tangled in erotic warfare, mouths devouring, breaths ragged—hers exploring the ridges of his lips, his coaxing moans she couldn't suppress.


She wrenched free, hands trembling with purpose as they attacked the buttons of his shirt. Fabric whispered to the floor, unveiling a torso forged in the crucible of war: sun-kissed skin stretched over rippling pectorals, a chiseled V of abs that begged worship.

"Fuck… what a body," she whispered, the words tumbling out like a confession, raw and unfiltered.


His smirk was pure sin. "Careful, Mikasa. Admiration like that might make me think you want this."


Her palms splayed across his chest, tracing the heated valleys of muscle, marveling at the power coiled beneath—harder, more defined than any she'd known. Saliva pooled in her mouth, a visceral hunger she couldn't quell.


Leaning in, her lips ghosted over his skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chest. An electric jolt surged through her at the contact—"Mmmh, so fucking good"—her tongue flicking out to taste the salt of him, hands roaming greedily over the landscape of his strength.


She descended with torturous slowness, lips and tongue charting his form: lingering on the swell of his pecs, then lower to the eight-pack abs that flexed under her worship.

"Such a goddamn marvel," she murmured against the ridges, fingers digging into the carved stone as her tongue lapped at them, savoring the faint sheen of sweat, the tremor of his restraint. Each lick was a rebellion, a way to wield her sensuality as a weapon in his domain.


Her knees buckled to the floor, a kneel that felt like both defeat and devotion, her face level with the massive bulge tenting his shorts.


She nuzzled against it, inhaling his musky arousal through the fabric, the sheer girth—even confined—pressing hot and insistent against her cheek. A shiver of awe and apprehension rippled through her; this was no mere man, but a force, throbbing with the same potency that had ended wars.


Fingers deft and eager, she tugged the knot free, shorts pooling at his ankles. Now in nothing but straining underwear, his cock jutted boldly, the tip peeking over the waistband like a promise of ruin.


"So… fucking big," she husked, voice thick with wonder and want, her hand wrapping around the thick shaft through cotton—stroking slow, deliberate, feeling it pulse and thicken under her touch.


The power dynamic hummed between them: him towering above, her on her knees, yet in this act of adoration, she held the reins of his unraveling, if only for a breath.