Mikasa stood in front of the full-length mirror in their bedroom, adjusting the thin straps of the purple lingerie.
The set was deliberately revealing—delicate lace cups that pushed her full breasts up and together, creating a deep, heavy cleavage, while the bottom was little more than a scrap of fabric that left most of her ass completely exposed.
The back was almost entirely open, held only by a single satin ribbon that still hung untied between her shoulder blades.
She leaned closer to the glass and carefully applied a deep red lipstick, the only real makeup she bothered with. She knew most of it would be kissed or rubbed off soon enough.
Behind her, Eren sat on the edge of the bed in silence.
He watched every small movement—the way she smoothed the lace over her breasts, the way she turned slightly to check how much of her ass the lingerie failed to cover, the calm concentration on her face as she finished the lipstick.
His wife was getting ready, not for him, but so another man could fuck her in their bed. The knowledge sat in his chest like a blade. It was humiliating. It was infuriating. And yet he could not refuse.
The man waiting to take her was no longer simply Minato Namikaze. He was the ruler of the Land of Fire.
Crossing him now carried consequences Eren was not willing to risk for either of them.
Mikasa caught his reflection in the mirror. She saw the tight line of his jaw and the complicated heat in his eyes. A flicker of guilt moved through her, but it was quickly drowned by something stronger.
She knew this was wrong.
She knew she should not want what was about to happen. But the memory of the last time—of being stretched open while Eren watched, of coming so hard her vision blurred—had been living under her skin all day. The thought of feeling that again made her cunt throb inside the thin purple lace.
Her morality was slipping, and part of her no longer cared enough to stop it.
She turned her back to him slightly and glanced over her shoulder.
"Eren. Can you come tie this for me?"
The ribbon hung loose against her bare spine. The request was simple. The meaning was not. She was asking her husband to help finish dressing her so another man could undress her.
Eren stood without a word and walked up behind her. His fingers brushed her skin as he took the two ends of the ribbon.
He tied it carefully, neither too tight nor too loose, eyes fixed on the smooth expanse of her back and the soft lower curves of her ass that the lingerie made no effort to hide.
Even through the anger and the shame, his body reacted. His cock thickened against his pants from the nearness of her, from the scent of her skin, from the knowledge of exactly why she was dressed like this.
Mikasa felt the change in his breathing. She glanced down and saw the clear outline of his erection.
A dark, excited thrill ran through her. Her husband was getting hard while helping her prepare to be fucked by someone else. The realization only made her wetter.
"Thanks," she said softly, turning to face him. Their eyes met for a moment. She could see everything he wasn't saying. She offered him a small, complicated smile that was equal parts apology and anticipation.
The doorbell rang.
Both of them froze for half a second.
Mikasa exhaled. "Stay here. I'll get it."
She left the bedroom and walked down the short hallway barefoot, the purple lingerie whispering against her skin with every step.
When she opened the front door, Minato stood on the threshold.
His eyes moved over her in a slow, open sweep—from her painted mouth, down the deep cleavage, over the narrow strip of lace between her thighs, to the bare curves of her ass.
A satisfied, hungry smile touched his mouth.
"So," he said, voice low, "you're ready to get fucked by me."
He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. As he passed her, his hand settled on her exposed ass and gave a firm, possessive squeeze, fingers sinking into the soft flesh the lingerie left completely available.
Mikasa's breath caught. Heat flared low in her stomach.
"Let's go," she said, already turning to lead him toward the bedroom.
Minato followed close enough that she could feel his presence at her back. His hand returned to her ass, openly groping her as they walked.
"So eager," he murmured near her ear. "You've been thinking about my cock all evening, haven't you?"
She didn't answer, but the way her pace quickened was answer enough. By the time they reached the bedroom doorway, her heart was beating hard and her cunt was fully slick against the thin lace.
Eren was still standing near the bed where she had left him.
The moment Minato entered the room with his hand still on Mikasa's ass, the air grew heavier. Mikasa felt a dark, shameful rush of excitement at the sight of both men in the same space.
Somewhere beneath the guilt she already knew a dangerous truth: if she were forced to choose right now between the husband she loved and the man who could reduce her to shaking pleasure, the choice would no longer be simple.
She wanted Minato's cock inside her again with an intensity that frightened her.
Minato finally removed his hand from her ass and walked over to Eren. He extended his hand.
Eren hesitated only a second before taking it. Their handshake was firm and brief.
"I'm glad you agreed to this," Minato said.
Eren's voice came out controlled, almost flat.
"Whatever brings my wife pleasure… it's my duty as her husband to allow it."
Minato's mouth curved slightly.
"You're a good husband."
Mikasa stood a few steps away, watching the exchange with a strange mixture of relief and disbelief. They were speaking calmly.
No raised voices.
No open conflict.
Part of her was grateful—confrontation would have made everything worse for Eren. Another part of her felt the last of her resistance crumbling. The two men had acknowledged each other. The night could now proceed.
Minato released Eren's hand and turned back to her. His eyes were darker now, focused entirely on the way the purple lingerie framed her body.
"Come here," he said.
Mikasa walked to him.
Behind her she felt Eren's gaze like a physical weight. In front of her stood the man who was about to take her in their marital bed once again. Her pulse throbbed between her legs. The red lipstick on her mouth suddenly felt like a mark of exactly what she was about to become in this room.
The door to the hallway remained closed.
The night inside the bedroom was only beginning.
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