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Chapter 04 - Kushina Uzumaki IV
🕑 Added 2025-03-23 11:12:47 +0000 UTCNow, I wasn’t a medic-nin — but I wasn’t fool enough to ignore the potential of the art. My skill with it was decent enough to earn an invitation from the Medical Department.
Suffice to say, I rarely used it for its intended purpose. But I do use it.
Like right now.
“Whaa—! Ughh…”
The poor woman had not expected that level of intensity. Her teeth unclenched, a moan slipping free before it choked into a silent cry. Then her back arched.
She curled inward, her entire body locking up—muscles tense, eyes shut tight, face twisted in overwhelming sensation. Both hands shot down, clutching mine over the fabric of her dress, as if grounding herself against the pleasure wrecking through her.
I bit my lip hard — hard enough to nearly draw blood. No, not nearly. I tasted metallic and sharp on my tongue, but I ignored it. I had to hold on.
Every cell, every nerve, every primal instinct in me screamed to let go—to spill deep inside her, right then and there. Fill her married pussy to the brim with my seed. The way her insides gripped, fluttered, and squeezed around me was dragging me to the edge of madness.
This was the opportunity I’d been waiting for, and I wasn’t about to waste it over some fleeting, short-lived pleasure. There was some irony there, but my brain was too preoccupied to care.
With her still curled forward, I pushed myself up, sliding my hand from her thigh to the back of her head — both to guide and to cushion.
Then, with a swift motion, I flipped us over, pinning her beneath me. Missionary. Right there on the kitchen floor.
Kushina gasped, her long red hair splaying out beneath her as she hit the floor. Her hands instinctively shot up, gripping my arms — half in resistance, half in reflex — forgetting my attack on her clit.
“The hell—?!” she hissed, breathless, eyes flashing with indignation. But she didn’t push me away. Instead, she scowled, cheeks burning, voice laced with irritation and something else.
“Sorry, babe,” I murmured, still buried deep inside her, my chakra-coated thumb circling her helpless clit with cruel precision. A slow, lazy smirk tugged at my lips. “But I was starting to get bored.”
Kushina’s eye twitched. Then, without hesitation, her fist slammed into my shoulder—just hard enough to sting, not enough to stop me.
“You little—!” she seethed, her voice a mix of frustration and something far more flustered. Her legs twitched around my waist, but she didn’t pull away.
Instead, she bared her teeth, her breath coming in ragged huffs. “Bored, huh? Let’s see if you’re still talking shit when I’m done with you.”
I wanted to fire back, to throw some smug remark in her face, reminding her of who she was and what she was doing. But I couldn’t. One wrong move, one twitch, and I’d lose it right then and there.
My fingers abandoned the back of her head, sliding down to her chest, palming the soft weight of her breast through her dress. My other hand stayed relentless on her clit, teasing, circling, pushing her closer to the edge — just as her body was, intentionally, doing to me.
Kushina sucked in a sharp breath, her body tensing beneath me. Her hands twitched against my arms, torn between shoving me away and pulling me closer.
Her teeth clenched, but the way her hips jerked betrayed her. “Damn brat… so damn pushy,” she muttered, half-scolding, half-breathless, when I started slowly, torturously moving my hips.
The terrifying woman had already recovered, her body adjusting like nothing had happened. Worse, she was building up to another climax, her hips rolling instinctively, her tight walls milking me without mercy.
I gritted my teeth. Uzumaki stamina really was bullshit.
If there was any saving grace in this, it was that she was easy to bring to the edge—her body sensitive, desperate, craving. But that was a double-edged sword. If she kept tightening around me like this, I wasn’t going to last.
Fortunate that her body was easy to read.
On the fifth thrust, I felt it—her body tensing, coiling up, the telltale signs of her next orgasm.
It was all about instinct and timing. She was right at the brink, teetering on the edge.
So I stopped.
I pulled my thumb from her clit. Stilled my hips. Let go of her breast.
Kushina blinked, her breath coming in short, uneven pants. Her chest heaved as she stared up at me, confusion flickering across her face.
“Wha—? Why’d you stop?” she asked, voice hoarse, laced with something vulnerable beneath her usual fire.
Her hands twitched against my arms, as if debating whether to shove me away or pull me closer. She wasn’t angry—just bewildered, unused to this sort of teasing. This kind of deliberate control.
She swallowed, her throat bobbing. “You—" she hesitated, a hint of something almost sheepish in her tone. "Why'd you stop?"
For all her sharp tongue and tough exterior, she wasn’t used to being left wanting. Especially not by someone she was supposed to be scolding, not surrendering to.
“Just realized,“ I smiled, enjoy the view of her sprawling on the ground, “How lucky your husband, to have you all for himself.“
Kushina’s breath hitched. Her expression flickered—confusion, irritation, then something deeper, something guarded.
She scoffed, turning her head to the side, her crimson hair fanning across the floor like spilled ink. "Tch. Don’t say crap you don’t mean."
But her fingers, still resting against my forearm, twitched. Her body, tense and waiting.
I watched her jaw tighten, pride warring with the undeniable heat in her gaze. She wasn’t the type to crumble under sweet words, but flattery, unexpected and well-placed, had clearly unsettled her.
She exhaled sharply through her nose. "If you’re gonna waste time talking, you might as well get off me."
Her tone was sharp, but the way she shifted beneath me—just enough for her thighs to brush my hips—told a different story.
"Alright, alright, no need to get mad," I said with a smirk, my hands sliding to her knees. With steady pressure, I pushed them forward, keeping her legs spread wide. Her green dress bunched up with the motion, the last modest barrier finally lifted—fully unveiling the sight I’d been denied until now.
Kushina's breath hitched as the cool air met her exposed skin, her flushed face deepening in color. Instinct had her thighs twitching, wanting to snap shut, but my grip held firm. Her fingers dug into the floor, jaw tightening as she glared up.
"You—" she started, voice tight, but whatever insult she meant to throw died in her throat. She wasn’t inexperienced enough to be oblivious to how vulnerable this embarrassing position was, yet she didn’t try to escape it.
Her pride wouldn't allow her to beg, nor would she cover herself like some shy girl. Instead, her lips pressed into a thin line, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she forced herself to hold my gaze. The frustration in her eyes wasn’t just from embarrassment—it was from how easily I had turned the tables on her, how effortlessly I had put her in a position she should have never allowed.
"Tch." She clicked her tongue and looked away. "Just get on with it, brat."
There it was—the stubborn pride of an Uzumaki, trying to maintain her dignity even as she lay beneath me, her cunt fully revealed. But the heat in her cheeks and the slight tremble in her breath or how her inner walls were gripping my member, told more.
My gaze drifted downward, past the flush creeping down her neck, past the slight tremor in her breath, and settled between her spread thighs. My breath caught.
Her red curls framed where I was still buried inside her, a stark contrast against her fair skin. The slick sheen on her inner thighs glistened under the dim light. Her walls, gripping and pulsing faintly around me, seemed almost reluctant to let go.
I swallowed hard, dragging my thumb along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "Damn," I muttered under my breath, almost to myself. "No wonder he can’t handle you."
I had meant it as a taunt, half an assumption thrown into the heat of the moment. But the way her lips pressed into a thin line — tight, almost bitter — told me I had struck closer to home than I intended.
She didn’t say anything. No sharp retort, no flustered denial, just silence.
That alone spoke volumes.
I shelved the thought for now. Whatever lay behind that reaction wasn’t my concern at the moment. Instead, I slid my hands from her knees to the backs of them, her skin soft beneath my palms as my fingers pressing in just enough to find a solid grip. With a slight push, her legs bent, folding her further beneath me, her sandaled feet lifting into the air.
"Comfortable?" I murmured, though the question was more for my own amusement than anything else.
The corner of her lips dropped into a frown. Her fingers twitched against the floor, but she didn’t resist. If anything, her body tensed in anticipation.
I tightened my grip on her knees and started moving again, slow and deliberate, drawing out the friction between us.
Since I can’t compete with her stamina, my battle strategy was simple. Overwhelm her senses, bypass her endurance, and shatter her control.
My focus shifted, from a horny bastard to a shinobi on a mission. An S Rank mission. This wasn’t just about pleasure anymore. Not for me at least. This was about bringing success home.
Either you succeed or die. There was no middle ground.
Thus was the mindset I took thing from then onward.
Matching Kushina Uzumaki’s stamina was a fool’s game — I’d lose every time. So I didn’t play fair.
Every touch, every movement was calculated to push her past the edge faster than she could recover. I targeted her weak points mercilessly — ears, neck, chest, inner thighs, and all place she gave a reaction to — used chakra to amplify her pleasure, and ripped away release the moment she was about to break. I kept her body teetering on the brink, trapped in a cycle of unbearable need.
I didn’t have to outlast her. I just had to make sure she couldn’t last at all.
Edging her again and again, relentlessly, stretching her arousal until her recuperation can’t keep pace. Each denial heightens sensitivity, making eventual release overwhelming.
She had realized what I was doing on the second time I denyed her release. She was quick, reminding me I was not the only Jonin here.
At first, she bit her lip, refusing to give me the satisfaction of a reaction. But as the cycle repeated—building her up, bringing her to the brink, only to cruelly hold her back—her composure began to fray.
Her breath hitched, nails digging into my arms. “Damn it—” she hissed, voice laced with frustration. Her hips bucked involuntarily, chasing what I refused to give.
When I denied her again, her pride cracked. A low, strangled whimper slipped past her lips, her brows furrowing in both anger and desperate need. “You little…!” she growled, cheeks flushed deep red, glaring at me through half-lidded eyes clouded with something she didn’t want to name.
Yet even in her frustration, she refused to beg. That stubborn pride of hers wouldn’t allow it.
Good thing that, her begging wasn’t the objective of this mission. No, the objective was far less — or was it more? — ambitious
It was to give her the sex of her life. Something her dear husband had clearly given up upon.
I had no such intentions.
Just like her pleasure, her frustration swelled with each denial, simmering beneath the surface. Her words grew sharper, laced with irritation, but there was no real bite—just empty threats from a woman too lost in the moment to back them up.
I discovered something else, too.
For all her fire, her anger could be drowned with a kiss. A deep, messy, mind-numbing kiss that turned her defiance into breathless submission. It melted her faster than any orgasm, made her pliant, made her — adorably — meek.
Only for the next denial to reignite that pretty mouth of hers, spitting curses between ragged breaths.
Of course, merely edging her while overwhelming her neglected senses and keeping her on the brink, wasn’t enough to call this mission a success. That was only half of it.
The other half was, well, first, I had to keep myself grounded — to not lose myself in the sheer, maddening pleasure of her mature body. A tall order that, but with grit, discipline, and perhaps the whispered prayers of my ancestors in both worlds, I pulled through.
Second, and more importantly, I had to let her release at the right time. Not just any moment —the moment. When her body couldn’t take another second.
The issue was, this was my first time with her—I was unfamiliar with her body, with the exact rhythm of her breaking point. I could push her to the brink, again and again, but The Moment? That was uncharted territory.
So I just had to go with my instinct and the response of her body.
I had to watch her. Feel her. Learn the precise tremor in her thighs, the hitch in her breath, the tension in her muscles, the way her nails dug into my skin each time I denied her, the raw, pleading edge creeping into her voice even as she tried to mask it.
Eight to ten denials — that was the sweet spot. The perfect number to push her past frustration, past pride, into something raw and uncontrollable.
And when I finally let her have it, the result was breathtaking.
Her whole body seized, her back arching like a bowstring pulled too tight before snapping. A strangled cry, uncaring for any eavesdroppers, tore from her lips, her fingers clawing at my arms, at the floor, at anything to ground herself. She trembled, legs locked around me, as if afraid I’d steal it away at the last second.
It was a beautiful thing to witness — Kushina Uzumaki, the indomitable, reduced to a shuddering, gasping mess beneath me.
And I had to damn near mutilate myself just to keep from ruining it—biting down so hard I swore I tasted blood, fingers digging into her thighs like a lifeline.
Because fuck, watching her unravel like that, feeling her tighten around me, hearing the way she gasped in that broken, breathless voice — it was too much.
But I held on. Barely.
I’d rather drive a kunai into my own flesh than ruin this moment.
And the second time she unraveled, I did just that.
A sharp sting bloomed in my thigh as I discreetly drove the blade in, just deep enough to ground myself, to keep control. My breath hitched, but I masked it well — Kushina was too lost in her own pleasure to notice.
Good.
Because nothing was going to get in the way of this mission. Not even my own weakness.
Yet….
Yet!
She had long since given up trying to restrain her moans. Each denial stretched her limits further, chipping away at her stamina, her composure. Her once-quick recuperation lagged behind, the intervals between each peak growing longer.
Her fair legs, once full of strength, had gone limp — only tensing when she teetered at the edge.
I had been working her toward her sixth orgasm, pushing to see just how many denials she could endure — twenty, perhaps more. But I miscalculated. I should have stopped. I should have pulled back.
She came, and in that moment, so did I.
I barely had the presence of mind to yank myself free, my shaft slipping from her well-used pussy as I fumbled to finish with my own hand. My release spilled across her red-furred mound, a stark contrast against her flushed skin.
I had aimed too high, tested the limits too recklessly. My mortal flesh failed me.
What a shame.
Kushina lay sprawled beneath me, her chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths. Her long red hair clung to her flushed skin, strands sticking to the sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her body, once taut with frustration and resistance, had finally unraveled into something loose.
Defeated, but not quite.
Her violet eyes, hazy but still sharp, flickered downward, taking in the mess I had left on her mound. A muscle in her jaw tensed. Her fingers twitched against the floor, as if debating whether to swipe at the sticky warmth or smack me across the face.
She chose neither, at least for now. Instead, she swallowed hard and exhaled, voice raspy from exertion.
"Dammit…" she muttered, half to herself, half to the universe that had led her here. Her head tilted slightly to the side, eyes narrowing. "That was… way too much."
A pause. She wet her lips, then scoffed.
Even now, she refused to look shaken, refused to let me see how deeply I had undone her. But one just had to admire her — her trembling legs, the way her fingers curled against her stomach, as if still feeling my length in her.
That was merely a defeated fool trying to reassure himself.
Then, finally, her pride as an older woman — or as a mother or perhaps just as a kunoishi — reared its head again. With a sharp huff, she pushed herself up onto her elbows, her face scrunching in irritation as she looked down at herself.
"Ugh, look at this mess," she grumbled, more to herself than me, her hand ghosting over the remnants of my release. Her nose wrinkled in clear disdain. "You couldn’t even hold back at the end, huh?"
I smiled bitterly, half-expecting a slap. Instead, she let out a breath and shook her head, a strand of red slipping over her shoulder. "You should go." She said, glancing at my shaft now exposed to her for the first time.
"You should go," she repeated, firmer this time, as if saying it twice would make it easier for both of us.
Her legs shifted slightly, pressing together as if to preserve some last shred of dignity, even as her body still trembled with the aftershocks of everything I’d done to her. She tried to sit up fully, but her arms wobbled, and she caught herself with a frustrated huff.
I didn’t move. Not yet.
Her eyes flicked to me again, this time with a glare sharp enough to cut. "Don't make me say it again."
She wanted me gone before she had to process any of it. Before guilt could creep in. Before she could look at me and realize what this meant.
I circulated chakra to my limbs — without it, I wasn’t confident I could stand without stumbling like a fool. To my shame, I had lost. The sharpness in her voice, the clarity in her gaze… she had recovered enough to think, to process. That meant I had failed.
I was never supposed to have her in the first place. I tried to tell myself that, tried to convince myself it didn’t matter. But the words rang hollow.
The truth was, I’m a greedy man.
This was it — the first and last chance I’d ever have with her. It wouldn’t happen again.
And I had failed.
Failed to fuck her the way she deserved.
Any moment now, the crash would come. She’d realize what had happened, and the weight of it would settle in. Next time — if there ever was one — she’d be more careful. More guarded. More distant. Whisper will not work on her this well.
That was if her husband didn’t send the Anbu for my throat first.
I stood there, staring at her—disheveled, breathless, her red hair a wild mess over the kitchen floor. This was it. The first and last time.
Before she could react, I grabbed her by the chin and crushed my lips against hers. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was furious. A searing, selfish kiss meant to brand the moment into my soul.
Kushina’s eyes widened, her fingers tightening around my arm in protest. For a second, just a second, she didn’t pull away. Then, with a sharp inhale, she shoved me back, her palm cracking against my cheek in a punishing slap.
“Leave,” she hissed, voice low, dangerous, but her lips were trembling — whether in anger or something else, I couldn’t tell.
I didn’t argue. I turned and made my way through the Hokage’s home, the sharp sting on my face lingering. When I reached the entrance, my eyes caught a small heap of green fabric near the hallway — her panties, discarded in the heat of the moment.
They were simple — nothing lacy or extravagant, just soft cotton in a deep emerald green, the kind a practical woman like Kushina would wear.
I picked them up, shoved them into my pocket, and walked out.
A greedy man should at least take something with him.
