Setting: A quiet night at Kushina's home, two bottles of sake, one living room, two souls scarred by memories.
That night, the air in Konoha was warmer than usual. The breeze carried the scent of damp earth after an evening rain. In the small living room, Kushina sat cross-legged in a loose yukata, her red hair half undone and damp with sweat. In front of her, two sake cups sat empty. The second bottle had just been opened by a large, calloused hand—belonging to her guest that night.
Jiraiya.
"Still holding up, Sensei?" asked Kushina, a lopsided smile on her lips, cheeks flushed from the alcohol.
"I'm no lightweight," Jiraiya replied with a soft chuckle, taking a sip from his cup. His eyes lingered on her. "But... it's been a long time since I drank with someone who didn't hit me after three sips."
Kushina laughed, shaking her head slightly. "If you get too pervy, I just might hit you too."
"And that's what makes you irresistible," he murmured.
A silence fell between them.
They looked at each other. Jiraiya's eyes—usually mischievous—were different tonight. Tired. Wounded. But also... yearning. A yearning long buried.
And Kushina saw it.
"Minato…" she whispered suddenly, her voice low. "He used to scold me for being too blunt when I'm drunk."
Jiraiya turned to her. "He loved you. But he knew you weren't someone who could be caged."
Kushina nodded slowly, staring into her empty cup. "Sometimes I still wish this was all a genjutsu. That I'd wake up tomorrow and he'd be right beside me... messy hair and warm breath on my neck."
A single tear fell quietly. But her hand was steady as she poured the next cup.
Jiraiya watched her, eyes filled with guilt. "I failed to protect you…"
"Stop," Kushina cut him off sharply. "If you keep blaming yourself, I really will hit you."
And then... she stood up.
Her steps were a bit wobbly, but her gaze was steady.
Her yukata shifted as she walked toward Jiraiya, revealing the curve of her thigh and a glimpse of cleavage through the thin fabric. Her red hair cascaded down, her face red with sake... and something else.
"You know," she said softly, stopping right in front of him. "I've always wondered... why you never touched me. Not even after Minato was gone. Not even when I was all alone."
Jiraiya looked up, eyes burning.
"You think I didn't want to?" he murmured. "Every night. But I... didn't have the right."
"And if I'm the one asking?" Kushina whispered, then slowly sat on his lap. Their bodies touched fully. "Would you still reject me?"
Her yukata parted. Her thigh brushed against him directly. Their breaths mingled—hot, heavy.
Jiraiya didn't answer.
But his hand moved—large, rough, trailing from her waist up to the nape of her neck.
"Don't regret this," he whispered.
"There's already too much I regret," she replied—and then their lips met.
The kiss wasn't just a kiss. It was escape—from loneliness, guilt, wounds too deep for words. Their mouths pressed together, opened, collided in a rhythm desperate and messy. Their breaths came in gasps, mingled with soft moans and trembling sighs.
Jiraiya's hand traced her spine, then up to her shoulder and collarbone—soft, warm. He kissed the spot. Then bit gently, leaving a faint red mark.
"Ahh… don't... go so slow…" Kushina's voice was hoarse, eyes half-lidded.
Her left hand pressed against Jiraiya's chest, feeling his heartbeat—fast and erratic. Her hand slid down his lightly furred chest, stopping at his tense abdomen. Her fingers slipped beneath his belt, touching something already hard beneath the fabric.
"Sensei… this is… ready, huh?" she whispered, a mischievous smile on her flushed face.
Jiraiya's hand stopped hers for a moment, eyes sharp, breath ragged. "You know... once we go there... there's no going back."
"Do I look like I want to turn back?" Kushina whispered.
She pulled him close until their chests touched. Her nipples—hard and sensitive from the night air and arousal—rubbed against his skin. She moaned softly as their bodies slid against each other. Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling his face down for another kiss.
Jiraiya lifted her easily, laying her down gently on the warm tatami floor. Her red hair spread like fire, her pale skin glowing under the lantern light.
He kissed down her neck—deeper this time—down her shoulder, to her chest.
Kushina bit her lip and let out a high-pitched moan when his mouth enveloped her breast, tongue circling the now fully erect peak. He sucked gently, nibbled lightly, making her tense and claw at his back unconsciously.
"Ahh… mmh! Jiraiya… that's… too sensitive…"
But his mouth didn't stop. He treated her body like it was the last treasure he'd ever taste. His left hand kneaded her other breast firmly but reverently, while the right slid down her trembling belly, past her hips, to the most intimate part between her parted thighs.
As soon as he touched her there—Kushina tensed.
His fingers slipped between the folds, finding her soaked and pulsing. He circled slowly, pressing that sensitive spot that made her hips buck and her teeth bite into her hand.
"Don't... too fast..." she moaned, but her body responded eagerly, writhing to each stroke like an addict to pleasure.
Jiraiya bent down, replacing his fingers with his tongue.
Kushina gasped. "A-Ahh… oh my God…!"
His tongue was hot. His movements gentle, controlled, yet relentless. He licked deep inside, then sucked on the top, making her body shudder, fingers grip the mat, legs curl around his shoulders.
"Don't—ah—keep doing that, I—ah… I might—"
But he didn't stop. He devoured her. He relished her taste. He craved her voice—now begging, her body—once unreachable, now trembling and open under his touch.
One finger slid in slowly.
Then two.
They moved in and out, twisting within, while his tongue still teased outside.
And finally, Kushina's body tensed. Her breath caught, her throat clenched, then—
"Aahh—!"
She moaned loud and long as her first orgasm hit like a wild wave. Her body shook, her back arched, her eyes opened wide, unfocused.
As her body slackened, Jiraiya kissed her inner thigh once, then slowly climbed up—her belly, her chest, her neck… and finally her lips again.
"Still want more?" he asked, voice low and gravelly.
Kushina nodded slowly.
Then whispered, voice raspy: "Now... let me get on top."
She turned, straddling him with grace and determination. Beneath her, the man once known only for his lewd jokes now lay, gazing at her with eyes full of desire.
Her red hair hung down, some covering her chest and face, the rest tickling his stomach. Lantern light glinted off her sweat-slicked skin, revealing the curve of her waist and the rise and fall of her chest.
Jiraiya swallowed hard, eyes roaming her body.
"I've… never seen you like this," he murmured.
"Because you never had the courage to truly look," Kushina replied, her hand sliding down to his center.
She touched it.
Warm. Hard. Big.
She paused, then raised a brow with a sly smile. "You're… intimidating."
"You can still back out," Jiraiya said, voice tight.
"I won't," Kushina whispered. "This body… has chosen tonight."
With slow, steady movement, Kushina guided herself down, positioning Jiraiya's tip right at her wet entrance. She bit her lip, then slowly sank down, letting herself take him in inch by inch.
Each inch felt like fireworks.
"O-ohh... Hah…" her breath caught. Her hands gripped Jiraiya's chest for balance.
Jiraiya groaned deeply, biting his lip, trying not to thrust too soon.
"You're... so... tight..." he muttered.
Kushina could only nod slightly, body trembling as she finally sat fully—swallowing Jiraiya to the base, their stomachs pressed, her body overwhelmed by the heat and fullness radiating through her.
"Sensei…" she whispered, pale from the intensity, "I… I feel all of it. So deep…"
Her hands rested on his chest, and she began to move. Slowly. Gently. Grinding her hips back and forth in small, consistent motions.
Every move triggered perfect friction inside her. Every move drew a moan. And once she found her rhythm, her body stopped holding back.
She rose—and dropped.
Rose—and dropped.
Faster and faster.
Their mixed fluids dripped down, wet sounds echoing in the silent night. Kushina's moans grew louder, her lips parted, her eyes hazy.
Jiraiya grabbed her waist, helping lift and drop her with stronger thrusts. Their bodies slammed together. Kushina's chest bounced, her hair messy, her scent a mix of sweat and lust.
"You like this, huh?" Jiraiya muttered, voice hoarse.
"Yes… ahh… so much…" Kushina nearly cried from the intensity. "I want everything… tonight… everything…"
And Jiraiya gave it to her.
He sat up, hugging her tightly, thrusting up from a sitting position—rough, deep, fast—making her cry out and cling to his shoulders.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, her body nearly lifting with each deep thrust. Their lips met again in a chaotic kiss—full of spit, teeth, and moans.
"Jiraiya... Jiraiyaaa—!"
"Say… my name… again…" he growled in her ear.
"Sensei… deeper… faster… I want… I—"
And with one perfect, deep thrust, Kushina's body tensed. Her back arched, her jaw dropped, and a strangled cry escaped her throat.
She climaxed again.
Jiraiya held her tight, then changed positions—laying her gently onto the futon and taking over.
"My turn…" he whispered.
He thrust—deep, hard, rhythmic.
Kushina's breasts bounced with every motion. Her legs spread wide, her body accepting everything without resistance.
Wet.Hot.And too intimate.
Her voice was nothing but raw moans now. Each second brought another wave of unstoppable pleasure.
"Yes… ahh… A-Ahh… mmh!"
Jiraiya began to lose control.
"Almost there…" he gasped.
And when he climaxed, his body tensed, hands gripping her thighs, breath stuck in his throat.
He released everything inside her—hot, intense, and deep.
A few seconds later, he collapsed on top of her. Their breathing ragged, skin sticky with sweat and desire.
No words.
Just breath.Just heartbeats.
Jiraiya kissed her temple once. He didn't know what to say.
But Kushina wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, and whispered softly:
"Thank you… for still being here."
That night, they fell asleep in each other's arms—not as teacher and student, not as legend and hero's widow. But simply as two exhausted souls… who finally found warmth in the same wound.