The Hokage's office was quiet—until it wasn't.
Tsunade stood near her desk, dressed in her usual green robe and low-cut blouse, sipping from a porcelain sake cup. Her golden eyes were fixed on the paperwork in front of her… until she felt it.
A chakra signature.
Familiar.
Horny.
Unhinged.
The window slammed open with a rush of wind. Paperwork scattered.
Lady Jiraiya stepped through in a low crouch—silver hair wild, fishnet top leaving nothing to the imagination, pervy smirk already playing on her lips.
"Yo," she purred. "Miss me?"
Tsunade didn't flinch. She simply sighed and sipped again.
"Jiraiya," she muttered. "The village window repair budget thanks you again."
Jiraiya sauntered forward, hips swaying, gaze locked on Tsunade's cleavage like a starving woman eyeing her last meal. "Window's a small price to pay when I'm trying to penetrate... deeper issues."
Tsunade's brow twitched. "Are you seriously hitting on me again? After all these years?"
Jiraiya leaned in, hands on the desk. "I've been patient. I've watched you bend that body over paperwork day after day. I've watched you swing those perfect tits like weapons. I've heard the rumors about what you did to Naruto."
Tsunade narrowed her eyes. "And?"
"And I think it's time you got wrecked for once," Jiraiya growled.
There was a moment.
Tension.
Chakra.
Breath.
Then Tsunade threw her sake aside, grabbed Jiraiya by the collar, and slammed her against the office wall.
Their lips crashed together—sloppy, wild, teeth clicking. Tsunade's strength pinned Jiraiya like prey, but the perverted Sage only moaned into the kiss, grinding her soaked thigh against Tsunade's slit through the robe.
"You've been wet for me for years," Tsunade hissed.
"More than wet," Jiraiya gasped. "Dripping like a broken faucet, babe. I dream about drowning in your tits."
Tsunade yanked open her blouse—her massive breasts spilling free, nipples flushed and hard.
"Then choke on them."
She shoved Jiraiya down to her knees.
Jiraiya didn't hesitate. She buried her face between Tsunade's breasts like a woman possessed—licking, sucking, biting, moaning with abandon. Her hands roamed everywhere—cupping that thick ass, squeezing powerful thighs, tugging at the waistband of Tsunade's pants.
"You're soaked," she murmured, pulling the Hokage's pants down.
Tsunade stepped out of them—completely bare beneath.
"Then do something about it."
Jiraiya dove in, her tongue parting Tsunade's slick folds and lapping like a woman starved. Her fingers dug into Tsunade's thighs, spreading her wide, letting her taste everything.
"Ohhh fuck—" Tsunade gasped, grabbing a handful of silver hair, grinding against her face. "Don't you dare stop—"
Jiraiya didn't.
She devoured her.
Sloppy, nasty, perfect.
Tsunade came hard—her legs shaking, pussy gushing into Jiraiya's eager mouth.
But it didn't end there.
She dragged Jiraiya up by her hair, yanked open her fishnet top, and shoved her onto the desk.
"Your turn."
Tsunade dropped to her knees.
Jiraiya cried out as Tsunade's tongue hit her clit with chakra-enhanced precision. Her hips bucked. Her back arched. Her eyes rolled back.
"Oh gods—yes—FUCK—Tsunade!"
Their moans filled the tower.
No mercy. No hesitation.
Just years of tension exploding into pure, desperate, sapphic lust.
When Jiraiya came, she screamed. Loud. Shameless. Eyes wide, body twitching.
Tsunade stood and smirked, licking her lips.
"Still want to flirt?"
Jiraiya slumped against the desk, dazed, flushed, and grinning like an idiot.
"I want to marry you."
Tsunade snorted. "Get in line."
They both laughed.
Then kissed again—softer this time. Sweeter.
Because underneath all the teasing… it had always been this.