Kushina Uzumaki, the wife the un-canonically alive Hokage and the mother of the namesake of my favorite shounen series, and now friend, stood at the door. Wearing her casual outfit I roughly remember from the show.
One that somehow still accentuated her natural curves. Her red hair — vivid and untamed red —cascaded down her back in a fiery waterfall, the strands catching the light as she smiled. She wore a high-collared, sleeveless blouse under a long, loose-fitting dress, that did a poor work hiding her full chest and wide hips. Her feet were adorned with worn shinobi sandals, giving her an air of relaxed domesticity. Despite the casual attire, she was radiant — confident, but also warm and approachable.
Her violet eyes sparkled with curiosity as she opened the door and greeted me.
"Hey, you must be one of Naruto's friends from school. Come inside and make yourself at home."
I stepped inside, and my eyes roved over her, lingering shamelessly. I can't help it. Her beauty was mesmerizing, and I made no effort to hide my admiration. She caught my gaze and tilted her head, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.
"I did not know…" I trailed to extend the moment, "Naruto had such a gorgeous sister."
My voice, laced with that unnatural undertone. I've always considered the Devil's Whisper a subtle art. It's not about forcing someone to do something — it's about opening doors they've already locked themselves out of. It has a way of slipping past defenses. It doesn't plant new thoughts; it simply amplifies what's already there, dragging buried desires to the surface where they can't be ignored.
Her laughter was light and airy, though tinged with embarrassment. She waved a hand dismissively, but her blush deepened. Her lips twitched, betraying a small, pleased smile.
She didn't know it yet, but she'd already opened the door.
The first blush was always the easiest to coax out. It wasn't the Whisper alone—compliments, when timed right, could disarm even the most guarded minds. And Kushina, for all her strength, hadn't been prepared for my words to hit quite so deeply. She tried to deflect, but the way her voice wavered and her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her dress told me everything I needed to know. The Whisper was working. She didn't realize it yet, but the idea had already been planted: the thought that someone might see her as more than just a mother or a wife.
"Oh, shush," she said waving her hand. "Don't try to flatter me. I'm his mother."
Her voice wavered slightly toward the end, as if she didn't believe her own words. She then crossed her arms over her chest, as though to shield herself from my gaze, but her movements were more self-conscious than offended.
I licked my lips, deliberately letting my eyes linger on her once more. Her green dress stretched slightly as she shifted her weight, drawing my attention to her curves.
"No way! You are way too pretty; I would not have believed that."
She laughed again, this time more nervously. The blush on her cheeks spread like fire, reaching the tips of her ears. She looked away briefly, her fiery bangs falling into her face, but she didn't correct me.
"Oh, please. You're just trying to make me feel good. I'm an old lady now." Her words were deflective, but her tone betrayed a small glimmer of pride. She was clearly flattered, though trying to hide it. Her hands moved to smooth out her jeans, a nervous habit that made her seem even more endearing.
The trick was never to push too hard, too fast. The Whisper worked best when paired with subtlety—when my words felt natural, even as they carried that faint, persuasive weight. I let the compliment linger in her mind, watching as she wrestled with the unexpected flattery. A woman like Kushina, so used to being seen as a matron, as the fiery wife of Konoha's Fourth Hokage, wasn't prepared to be viewed as desirable—at least, not by someone new. That hesitation in her body language told me I'd hit the right nerve. Now, I just had to press it.
"Old?" My voice laced with disbelieve, one I found myself not faking. "Nonsense. If I see you on the street, I will be hitting on you; there is no way I'll be letting such a fine catch slip away."
I stepped closer, closing the distance between us. She stiffened slightly but didn't move away. Her violet eyes widened as I looked her directly in the eyes, my voice low and steady.
Confidence was key. Not just in my words, but in the way I carried myself. I stepped closer, my body language deliberate, invading her space without making it feel threatening. The Whisper wasn't about barking commands—it was about making my presence unavoidable. Her Kunoichi instincts told her to step back, but the part of her that hadn't been complimented in years—the part that longed to be seen—made her stay rooted in place. It wasn't mind control. It was giving her permission to entertain the thoughts she'd buried long ago.
Her mouth opened slightly in surprise, and her face grew redder. She laughed, but it was softer this time—almost shy. She hadn't heard words like this in years. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her movements hesitant. Her confidence flickered like a candle in the wind, and for the first time, she seemed unsure of herself.
"Stop it! You're just saying that to make me feel good. I'm a married woman, you know."
Her tone was lighthearted, but there was a nervous undertone now. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, as though grounding herself against the sudden heat rising between us.
The mention of her husband was expected. Loyalty wasn't something that could be erased with a few sweet words, especially not from a woman like Kushina. But loyalty was a fragile thing when paired with neglect. Her husband's absence was my greatest weapon; I could see it in the way her lips tightened when she said the word "married." The Whisper didn't create cracks in her resolve—I had to found the ones that were already there and widened them. A woman who was truly fulfilled wouldn't blush so easily, wouldn't linger so long on a stranger's compliments. And Kushina, for all her strength, was starved for something she hadn't been given in a long time.
"Married?" I teased, letting my voice drip with playful sarcasm. I took another step closer, invading more her personal space. She froze, her breath hitching slightly, but she didn't back away. A small victory. "Even better."
I let the implication drop and braced myself. I know what type of person my prey was. Untamed, wild, and dangerous. Yet I was willing to risk it. She raised her hand and I shifted my legs slightly — protecting my balls was paramount — and then she… she giggled, nervously, her hand covering her mouth as if to stifle the sound. Her blush deepened, and she glanced away, her gaze flickering toward the floor.
"You're such a flirt," she said, "You're going to give me a big head. But you know I'm loyal to my husband."
Her words were firm, but her body betrayed her hesitation. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her sweater again, and her breathing had quickened ever so slightly. She was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me.
A consent? I blinked pleasantly surprised. The first step is always the hardest. She'd already taken it.
"Loyal wives are the best."I reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers grazing her warm skin. She flinched at the contact, her eyes widening, but she didn't pull away. Her breathing grew shallow, and she blinked rapidly, as though trying to process the sudden intimacy.
"You're really not going to let up, are you?"Her voice wavered, and she laughed softly, though the sound was shaky. Her gaze darted to the door, then back to me. Her hands clenched into nervous fists at her sides, but her body remained rooted in place.
She looked away, her face burning bright red now. Her lips parted as she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with her quickening heartbeat.
"I'm not sure that would be appropriate." The diffidently loyal wife said. "My husband would be very upset."
Her voice was quieter now, almost a whisper. Her fingers trembled slightly as she brushed her hair back again, trying to regain her composure.
"He is not here." I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. Her pupils dilated slightly, and her breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her resolve was cracking, and she knew it. "It will be a secret between us."
She stared at me, her eyes searching mine for something. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and she let out a shaky sigh. "I'm a mother. My son would be devastated if he knew I was doing something like this."
Her voice was filled with guilt, but there was also a hint of longing as she tried to find an excuse to larch into. Her hands fidgeted nervously, and her gaze flickered to the floor once more.
"He will not find out." My voice was soft, almost a purr, as I closed the distance between us. Her lips trembled, and she bit her bottom lip, her resolve crumbling further.
"Besides, he loves his mother, and he will be happy if his mother was made happy, won't he? And I will make you very happy."
Her heart was pounding now, and she knew I could hear it. She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing as she tried to find the words to protest. But none came.
Her breathing grew erratic, her chest rising and falling in uneven rhythms. She looked at me, wide-eyed and flushed, her lips slightly parted. The internal battle was clear in her expression: guilt clashing with the growing temptation. She shook her head faintly, as though trying to clear her thoughts, but her body betrayed her. She didn't move away.
"I love my husband. I can't just betray him like this."
Her voice was trembling now, the words laced with doubt. Her hands clutched at the hem of her sweater as if holding on to it could somehow restore her composure.
She wasn't saying no. She was asking for reassurance.
So I gave her one as shallow as it was. Even as her neglected urges and my Whispers made it the most convincing reassurances in the world.
"Nobody is doubting that," I said, my voice smooth as silk, my eyes never leaving hers. I stepped even closer, so close that I could feel the warmth radiating from her body. She stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. "But he was never here, was he? Always at work. And you're a woman; you have needs. You deserve to be satisfied and appreciated."
Her eyes flickered with a mix of emotions. Her lips pressed together tightly, but her resolve was hanging by a thread. She let out a shaky sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of my words was too much to bear.
"I can't believe I'm doing this, but..." She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and she shook her head again, more to herself than to me. "I guess you're right. It's been a while since I've been... satisfied."
The admission left her lips, and she immediately flushed a deeper red, as though she couldn't believe she'd said it aloud. Her hands trembled as she clasped them together, her body tense and uncertain.
The Whisper had done its job, and now it was up to me to guide her the rest of the way. Kushina's body betrayed her more than her words ever would—the trembling in her hands, the way her breath hitched when I touched her, the way her lips parted ever so slightly as if searching for the right excuse. She wanted to say no, but the Whisper had made her inner conflict impossible to ignore. The desires she'd buried for years were bubbling to the surface, and all it took was a gentle nudge to make her fall.
I smiled, the victory already mine. Her vulnerability was intoxicating, and I savored the sight of her tough exterior crumbling.
"Good." My voice was light, almost teasing. The moment of surrender was always the most delicate and the sweated. So I tried to stretch it out. "I know Naruto won't be home for a while, and your husband's at work. But just to be sure... we are alone, right?"
Her violet eyes darted to the window, as if to confirm what she already knew. She nodded slowly, her voice barely audible.
"Yes, we're alone. No one else is home." The dubiously loyal wife said.
The words sent a shiver through her, as though speaking them made the situation all the more real. Before she could say anything else, I closed the distance between us completely. My hand cupped her cheek, and I leaned in, capturing her lips with mine.
Her entire body froze, her eyes wide in shock. For a moment, she didn't move, her mind racing. What am I doing? This is wrong. This is so wrong. But then, something inside her shifted. The warmth of my lips, the pressure, the undeniable pull of the moment—it was too much to resist. It never occurred to her she didn't know my name.
Slowly, hesitantly, she began to kiss me back. Her lips were soft, trembling against mine, and her movements were awkward, almost hesitant. It's been so long since I've done this with anyone but him, she thought, guilt gnawing at the edges of her mind. But the need—the hunger—was impossible to ignore.
Her arms lifted, almost as if on their own, and wrapped around my neck. She pulled me closer, her body pressing into mine. Her face was burning, her heart pounding like a drum. The kiss deepened, and she melted into it, her earlier hesitation slipping away little by little.
I let my hands wander, starting gently, my fingertips brushing her sides. She flinched slightly at the contact, a soft gasp escaping her lips, but she didn't pull away. Her body was responding now, instinctively leaning into my touch. My hands grew bolder, sliding down to her hips and then to her hefty rear. I gave her a firm squeeze, and she let out a quiet moan into the kiss.
"Oh my goodness... " She broke the kiss, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She looked up at me, her face a mixture of shock and desire. "That was... I can't believe I'm doing this."
Her hands rose to her face, covering her flushed cheeks. Her lips were swollen from the kiss, and her violet eyes were glassy, as if she were in a daze. She shook her head slightly, trying to snap herself out of it, but the heat coursing through her body was impossible to ignore.
"You'll be doing this and more, baby." I grinned, my hands still resting on her wide hips, adrenaline flowing in my veins. I'm losing it.
Her breath caught at the word "baby," and the devoted mother gave me a flustered glare, though it lacked any real conviction. "Don't call me that. I'm not your baby."
Her voice was meant to sound firm, but it came out shaky, betraying her. She took a step back, putting a small amount of distance between us, but her hands still lingered on my shoulders. She was torn, caught between her guilt and her growing desire.
"Not yet."
I leaned in again, my lips brushing against hers, and she let out a soft whimper. Her hands moved to my hair, tangling in the strands as she pulled me closer. Her body was trembling now, but it wasn't from fear. She was losing herself in the moment, her logic and morals slipping further out of reach.