The office was no longer an office.
It was a shrine of ruin.
Moonlight bled through the high windows, silvering the sweat on Mikasa's skin, the tears drying on her cheeks, the obscene shine of Minato's come still glazing her lips and chin.
She was still on her knees, straddling his lap, impaled so deeply on his cock that every breath dragged the thick head across her cervix. He hadn't softened. He never did, not with her. He stayed buried inside her, pulsing, owning, letting her feel every inch of what she had just begged for.
Her ruined panties hung from one ankle like a black flag of surrender.
Her bra was shredded, breasts swollen and marked, nipples dark and bitten.
Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, slick with two loads of his come and three of her own releases.
And still he moved.
Slow, deliberate rolls of his hips, just enough to remind her he was there.
Just enough to keep her teetering on the edge of another climax she didn't think her body could survive.
Mikasa's fingers clawed at his shoulders, nails leaving red crescents.
Her forehead pressed to his, tears dripping from her lashes onto his lips.
He licked them away like wine.
"Say it again," he whispered, voice velvet and venom. "Say his name while my cock is splitting you open."
A broken sob tore from her throat.
"E-Eren…"
The name cracked in half, half love, half betrayal.
Minato rewarded her with a single, brutal upward thrust that punched the air from her lungs.
Her walls spasmed around him, milking, desperate.
"Louder," he crooned, one hand sliding up to fist her hair, arching her neck back until she was displayed for him like an offering. "Let the whole tower hear who you still love while you while you cream on another man's cock."
"Eren!"
It came out a scream this time, raw and anguished, echoing off stone walls.
Minato laughed, low, filthy, triumphant.
He licked a hot stripe up her exposed throat, teeth closing over her racing pulse.
"That's it. Scream for your husband while I fuck his wife pregnant."
The words detonated inside her.
Pregnant.
The possibility (no, the likelihood, because he always came so deep, always flooded her until she overflowed) sent a fresh wave of terror and molten arousal crashing through her veins.
She imagined it:
Her belly swelling with Minato's child.
Eren coming home, eyes wide with joy, pressing his palm to the curve, whispering, "Our baby."
Never knowing.
The thought should have horrified her.
Instead her pussy clamped down so violently that Minato hissed, hips stuttering.
"Fuck, you like that," he rasped.
"You want me to breed you. You want to carry my bastard and let him raise it."
Mikasa sobbed harder, shaking her head even as her hips rolled greedily, chasing the thick drag of his cock.
"No… no, I love him, I love—"
Another savage thrust cut her off.
Her back arched, breasts thrusting forward, and he latched onto one nipple, sucking so hard she saw stars.
"Then why are you dripping down my balls, little traitor?"
He pulled out abruptly (just the head lodged inside her) and held there, letting her feel how empty she was without him.
Mikasa whined, high and desperate, trying to sink back down.
He didn't let her.
"Beg," he ordered, voice dripping sin. "Beg the man who isn't your husband to fill the pussy your husband can't satisfy."
Tears streamed freely now.
"Please," she choked. "Please, Hokage-sama, fuck me. Breed me. Make me yours in every way that matters. I need it, I need you—"
He slammed back in to the hilt.
The pace he set after that was merciless.
Hands bruising her hips, he lifted her and yanked her down again and again, using her like a sleeve, her body jolting with every violent collision.
The wet, obscene sound of her soaked cunt swallowing him filled the room, louder than her cries.
She came again almost instantly, squirting so hard it splashed across his stomach, his thighs, the priceless desk.
He didn't slow.
He fucked her through it, past it, into another, and another, until pleasure blurred into pain and back again, until she was babbling nonsense, until the only word left in her mouth was his name.
"Minato—Minato—Minato—"
Her voice cracked on the last one, turning into a wail as he ground deep and held, cock flaring, flooding her a third time.
She felt it: the heat, the pressure, the way he seemed to come forever, painting her insides white, marking her so thoroughly no amount of washing would ever make her clean again.
When he finally stilled, they were both shaking.
Mikasa collapsed forward, face buried in his neck, tears and sweat mingling on his skin.
He wrapped his arms around her, one hand stroking her spine, the other cradling the back of her head with terrifying gentleness.
Inside her chest, two truths warred until she thought her ribs would crack.
I love Eren with everything I am.
I would die for him. I would kill for him. I live for the day he comes home and wraps that stupid scarf around me again.
And
I belong to Minato.
My body sings only when he touches it.
My soul kneels when he commands it.
I will spread my legs for him every night and let him ruin me, let him brand me, let him fill me until I forget what loyalty feels like.
Both were real.
Both were tearing her apart.
Minato pressed a kiss to her damp temple, voice soft now, almost loving.
"Shh. I've got you, little traitor. Cry all you need. I'll still be inside you when the tears stop."
She did cry, silent, violent sobs that shook them both.
And still her hips gave tiny, helpless rolls, keeping him hard inside her, keeping the connection alive.
Because even as her heart bled for the man waiting somewhere beyond these walls,
her body had already chosen its god.
And it wasn't coming back.
———-
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