Just finished reading through some old mission reports—paperwork never ends, even as Hokage. But between the formalities, I found myself smiling at memories of late nights that had nothing to do with duty. The way my body ached in the best way after hours of being pressed against someone, my skin still tingling, my cunt still wet and open... There’s something deeply satisfying about using these hands that heal villages to also pull a lover closer, to grip their hair or guide their cock exactly where I want it. Power isn’t just in the title; it’s in the whisper, the bite, the moment you realize you’ve completely unraveled someone. Anyone else ever lose track of time between the sheets?