Vizem
patreon
Chapter 19 - Mebuki Haruno IV
🕑 Added 2025-04-11 16:01:40 +0000 UTCMebuki let out a long, shuddering moan, the kind that started deep in her chest and spilled out in a trembling exhale. It was raw and drawn out.
Her fingers dug deeper into the plush flesh of her asscheeks, spreading herself wider, inviting more. Of course, she would. Not just to please me, but because she needed to feel every bit of this. Or perhaps to prove to herself that she could still take a man like this, that her body hadn't lost its grip on youth.
Her legs dangled off the edge of the bed, kicking slightly with every slow thrust, her body adjusting to the stretch.
The position pinned her in place, her upper body sinking into the bed while her lower half remained mine to do with as I pleased. It was perfect—no room to squirm away, no leverage to control the rhythm. Just me, holding her exactly where I wanted her.
She wasn’t used to being taken like this, wasn’t used to someone else setting the pace. Her husband had never made her wait for anything, had never made her work for it.
"Damn…. tease," Mebuki moaned, her voice roughening into a husky, near-petulant tone. "This slow to—ahh…. torture—f-faster—huh—Go faster—"
I barely listened. My senses were locked onto something else—the creak of the front door opening, the light footsteps of a kunoichi moving through the house.
Sakura.
Mebuki, the mother, kept babbling, her words slurring between demanding moans, trying to reclaim some semblance of authority—the same tone she probably used with her husband when she wanted to pretend she was still in charge.
Annoying.
I exhaled sharply, shifting one hand to the back of her head, the other pressing firmly on her shoulder. Without ceremony, I shoved her head down, forcing her face against the mattress. The soft fabric muffled whatever she was about to say next, turning it into nothing more than a needy, strangled noise.
Something she, apparently, didn’t hate with how her inner walls clenched around me in aggressive, rhythmic flutters.
But I forced my focus away from the orgasming, cheating wife and objectively bad mother to something more pressing. The daughter.
The timing couldn’t have been worse.
What would that pink-haired firecracker do if she walked in on her mother spread open for one of the Academy instructors?
She’d scream first. Loud enough to shake the damn house. Then, she’d attack. Maybe a wild, undisciplined punch straight for the ribs, or the balls, or the dick. It didn’t matter she lacked the monstrous chakra control that could make her mother-killer worthy. With no Tsunade, no Shannarō. But still.
She’d probably throw something. A lamp, a chair, whatever was in arm’s reach.
Or worse, she’d cry. The brat always had a dramatic streak, and seeing her mother like this, gasping and ruined beneath me, could push her over the edge. Tears would spill down her face as she shouted something about betrayal, about shame, about how her mother was disgusting—only to run out of the house, straight into the streets, broadcasting the scandal for all of Konoha to hear.
And that was the real problem.
Sakura Haruno was loud. Impulsive, emotional, reactive—a girl who never knew when to keep her damn mouth shut. This wasn’t a girl who swallowed her anger or buried her grievances; she aired them, shouted them, made sure everyone knew exactly how she felt.
My eyes flicked to the window.
I should probably bail out.
I felt Sakura move toward where I remembered the stairs were, but then she stopped.
A brief pause. A shift in the air.
Then—"Mom?"
Fuck.
Mebuki didn’t respond. Couldn’t. She was too lost in her pleasure, in the feeling of me still inside her, twitching, pulsing.
I turned my head, catching sight of the door. It was ajar. Slight, but enough. Shit. That must have happened when I moved Mebuki to the bed. I’d been careless. Stupid.
When she received no answers, Sakura changed direction, stepping closer.
Yeah, I really should stop while I still can.
I couldn’t afford this. Being known as a pervert was one thing; a homewrecker was another. If this got out, if I get caught like this, it wouldn’t just be my reputation on the line — it would be Mebuki’s life torn apart. She might be an unpleasant cheating wife, but I had no intention of making things worse for her. Hypocritical? Maybe. But I’d never lied to myself about being a scumbag.
A floorboard creaked. My breath stilled. Sakura’s presence halted just a few feet outside the door. While Mebuki whimpered beneath me, twitching from another climax, blissfully unaware of her daughter. She called out once more.
Decision, decision.
Fuck it.
I grabbed a fistful of Mebuki’s brown-blond hair and yanked her head back. Her mouth fell open, a gasp barely forming before her breath hitched. Her flushed skin glowed in the dim light, her body pliant against my hold.
Then I felt it—Sakura’s presence just outside the door.
Too close.
Too late.
A gasp. Not from Mebuki.
I didn’t bail.
I didn’t hesitate.
“Stay like that.”
The word left my lips in a low, commanding growl, laced with the subtle coercion of Devil’s Whisper. It wasn’t perfect — not at this range, not with split attention — but it didn’t need to be. Just enough to make her hesitate. Just enough to stun.
I counted. One. Two. Three—
No door flying open. No shriek of rage. No bone-crushing punch. I considered it working after five seconds. But I credited it more to the shock and disbelief she must have felt, leaving her mind and thoughts unguarded.
Mebuki shivered in my grip, oblivious to the storm brewing just beyond the threshold. My grip in her hair tightened. I leaned down, my voice dropping to a near-growl.
"You love this, don’t you?" A rough thrust punctuated the question, drawing a choked whimper from her throat.
This was not meant to humiliate the mother before the daughter — even though it was exciting.
It was to make damn sure there was no question. No misunderstanding. Proof that I wasn’t forcing myself on her. That this wasn’t some shameful act of coercion.
Mebuki's breath was ragged, her head still pulled back by my grip, but she wasn’t resisting. If anything, her lips curled into a dazed, sultry smile. And then she started talking.
“Oh… Gods…” Her voice was husky, breathless. “You—You have no idea what this does to me…yes, I love it! Love how you use me, how you don't care that I'm someone's wife, someone's mother—" Her voice cracked. "F-fuck! The way you stretch me open, the way you make me feel filthy—like some back-alley slut who can't get enough—!"
She turned her head slightly, just enough for me to catch the side of her face. A smirk played on her lips. She was going far beyond what I envisioned. I wanted to pity her, and her daughter too, but I was so turned on by her words that I could only thrust faster into her married pussy.
I ignored another, sharper gasp from outside.
Mebuki ignored it too apparently as her fingers clawed at the sheets, her hips shifting back against me with desperate little rolls. “I feel… I feel like a girl again. Not some housewife buried under groceries and chores.” She let out a low, shuddering chuckle. “S-so wrong! So good! Because I shouldn't—ah!—shouldn't want it, but I do—! I dream of this….. a man who doesn’t hesitate. Ahh… powerful man who just takes—Ah—nd your hands…. g-gods, those hands. Big. Strong. I feel them…. feel them everywhere. T-touch me m-more…. p-please!”
I felt Sakura’s presence waver just beyond the door. If there was any doubt left in her mind about what was happening in this room, the mother was destroying it.
One filthy, unfaithful word at a time.
This woman…
Mebuki was losing it—her whole body convulsing as she babbled her filthy confessions between gasps, her painted toes curling in the air with each spasm, her sandals disregarded somewhere sometimes. Her thighs trembled violently, her cunt clamping down in rhythmic pulses as she came hard, her moans bordering on hysterical.
But my focus wasn’t on her.
It was on the girl frozen in the hallway.
“Be a good girl for me,” I murmured, the words steeped in Devil’s Whisper. Not enough to control, but enough to influence. Enough to make hesitation feel like curiosity. "Be obedient… take it just like you’re supposed to…"
A deliberate grind of my hips drew another broken cry from Mebuki, her back arching as she dripped onto the sheets.
The words weren’t for her. They were for Sakura.
Stay.
Watch.
Listen.
The door didn’t creak. No footsteps retreated.
It was a cruel thing. I must admit that much. But I wasn’t forcing either of them. If Sakura truly found this so repulsive, so unforgivable, then Devil’s Whisper wouldn’t have held her for even a second.
But she didn’t.
And that — the fact that she was letting this happen, that some part of her was curious — was what sent a dark, twisted thrill straight down my spine.
What a magnificent piece of shit I am.
The moment my climax coiled tight in my gut. So I did what came naturally — I shoved Mebuki’s face back into the mattress and ruined her before her voyeur of a daughter.
Long, brutal strokes — the kind that made her shriek into the sheets like a woman possessed, the kind that punched deep into her cervix — a place her husband had never been to.
She came twice like that, before, to my surprise, she squirted. A gush of liquid heat splattered between her thighs, soaking the bed beneath her, her back arching in a broken, spasming bow.
"Fuck—! Just like a damn faucet," I growled.
But I didn’t stop.
Mebuki was coming fast, almost as fast as Kushina had. But unlike the redhead, she didn’t have the legendary Uzumaki stamina. Hell, she didn’t even have a trained kunoichi’s endurance. She was just a soft, pampered housewife. The kind that melted at the first taste of real, unrestrained fucking.
Her muscles fluttered weakly around me, her moans slurring into nonsense as she tipped over the edge again… and again… until she wasn’t even clenching anymore, just lying there, twitching. Her orgasms drained her, body growing slack, her mind slipping in and out of consciousness.
And when I finally felt my own release rising, I slowed just enough to ask her, yanking her head back, “Where do you want it?”
I was tempted, so, so tempted to simply release into her welcoming womb. But I have standard…. no that was bullshit. This one was a shity mother and he was not risking that. His children deserve better,
Mebuki didn’t answer.
Glazed eyes, drool dripping from her slack mouth, her expression drunken with pleasure.
I wondered what her daughter thought of that face.
A face that shattered every shred of dignity she once had as a mother.
But I could still improve it further.
Gripping her spent body, I flipped her onto her back. She barely reacted, only letting out a weak gasp as I moved her like a doll. Knees on either side of her head. My hand wrapped around my cock, pumping, aimed at the face that had once sneered and looked down on others.
Mebuki’s half-lidded eyes fluttered, glassy, dazed, but not confused. She knew what was coming.
And she welcomed it.
Her lips parted, curling into that ruined, filthy smile, her tongue peeking out just slightly in invitation.
I groaned as my release surged through me, thick ropes painting across her face, streaking her flushed cheeks, her panting lips, dripping onto her chin. She didn’t even flinch. Didn’t recoil. Just lay there, taking it, her tongue even darting out to catch a stray drop as it dripped toward her lips.
Mebuki let out a soft, satisfied sigh. Her body utterly spent, her face still glazed with streaks of cum, yet her lips curled in a drowsy, contented smile. She didn’t stir as I stretched, rolling my shoulders with a satisfied groan.
"That was good," I said, letting Devil’s Whisper lace my words one last time, though I doubted it would do much to Sakura now—still, no harm in trying. I tucked my shaft back into my pants, then glanced down at the mother’s wrecked form. "We should do this again sometime."
No response. Just the slow rise and fall of her chest, her expression stupidly peaceful despite the mess I’d left on her.
An idea struck me and I smiled.
Her pink, snug leggings were already halfway off, crumpled around her ankles. I tugged them free, then turned my attention to her panties—white lace, delicate and wife-like, the kind meant to be seen under a conservative dress.
I plucked them, then, instead of wiping her face, I pressed the fabric against her sticky cheeks, smearing my release into the cotton.
"See you later," I said, more as a warning to the voyeur, patting her thigh before turning toward the door.
The moment I stepped into the dimly lit hallway, I felt Sakura’s presence, coiled tight behind the kitchen wall, her breath shallow, her chakra flickering.
I paused at the table where I’d left the groceries earlier, then deliberately set Mebuki’s soiled panties down — white cotton streaked with my release, still damp from her own arousal.
"Keep these for me, would you?" My voice was smooth and effortless, but beneath it thrummed the full force of Devil’s Whisper, that it hurt my throat.
A pause then a sharp inhale. The faintest shuffle of fabric as Sakura stiffened, realizing I knew she was there.
“Or not,“ I didn’t turn. Didn’t push further.
Instead, I walked out of the Haruno household with a smirk curling at the edge of my lips.
Mebuki wasn’t Kushina. She wasn’t worth keeping trophies from.
Sakura was different.
The fact that she hadn’t charged in, fists flying, kunai drawn—that she’d watched, listened, stayed—told me everything I needed to know.
She was curious or something like that. I hoped she was.
And I loved pushing boundaries.
— — — — — —
A/N: Bit of a late drop today — thanks for bearing with me.
Just a quick reminder: the new every other day schedule starts now. So the next chapter will be the day after tomorrow, even if it's the weekend.
Appreciate the support as always!
