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Most women go through moments in their lives where they doll themselves up with a touch of vanity every month, or endure lonely nights that leave them feeling guilty after doing things they consider immoral. For women with partners, perhaps those moments don’t lead to frustration. But what about women who live alone?
Shizune always knew when her emotions were being messed with. Sometimes she’d get angry, sometimes sensitive, sometimes cheerful... and sometimes she’d feel an itch for everything.
Ovulation—the most torturous part of it all.
She hated admitting that she was going through that phase. Her body felt uncomfortable, her clothes too tight in places that usually felt fine, her breathing heavy, and her boss sitting in his chair looked just—
Damn it.
Hatake Kakashi was the last person she should be thinking about in a state like this. But he was the only one close enough. Physically. Emotionally. Biologically...?
"Why not someone else?" Shizune muttered with a heavy sigh.
Because no one else could drive her crazy just by sitting still. Only Kakashi could make her want to throw the couch she was sitting on and... hug him in words that never quite came out.
Sometimes, she wanted to kiss him just to prove that this was all hormones. Not love. Not desire. Not real feelings.
Even when he wasn’t doing anything, Shizune could get aroused. Just—look at the veins on his arms, the way his eyes focused seriously while reading documents, or how his chest would feel so... comfortable to lean against, or—
Shizune shook her head. And maybe her odd behavior caught the attention of a man with a title as big as Kage.
"Shizune? Are you okay?"
Her biggest mistake was thinking Kakashi didn’t notice.
Snapped out of her thoughts, she turned quickly. "Y-yes?"
Kakashi had left his notes on the monitor and leaned back a little in his chair. His left arm rested casually on the armrest. Moonlight poured in through the window, casting a soft shadow on one side of his face. The mask still covered half, but his eyes...
Those eyes stared at her. Straight. Deep. Knowing.
"I feel like you're not comfortable today," he said, his voice calm and collected.
Shizune tensed. "I'm fine."
He raised an eyebrow—a small movement that almost felt like mockery. "You sure?"
No answer came from her lips. So Kakashi called her over. That’s how she ended up standing beside his chair, a growing discomfort between her thighs screaming for attention.
He looked at her, but not in an intimidating way. "If you need... to calm yourself," he said softly, almost like a murmur, "I can help."
Shizune bit her lip. She wanted to speak, but no words came.
Then Kakashi turned his chair slightly toward her, lifted his hand, and patted his thigh gently. "Want to sit here for a bit?"
Shizune froze.
Her breath caught. Her mind went blank. Her body burned—like steam finally finding an escape from a kettle.
That was an offer. An invitation. And it was dangerous.
"It's just... a warm hug from a kind Hokage," Kakashi added, half-joking, but neither of them laughed. "You look like you're... fighting your own body."
Shizune bit her lip harder. Her cheeks burned. She looked at Kakashi for a long time, searching for a hint that this was just a game—but no, it wasn’t. It was awareness.
"You’ve known all this time?" she whispered.
He nodded slowly. "Hard not to notice, Shizune."
One breath. Two. She stepped closer.
She sat down carefully in his lap, her body stiff, but Kakashi welcomed her with one arm wrapping gently around her waist—calm, warm, steady.
For the first time that day, she wasn’t at war. She wasn’t resisting.
Sitting in his lap was a bad idea: Bad because it was too comfortable. Bad because it was too safe. Bad because it was too inviting.
Shizune tried to stay still. Really. She leaned her head on Kakashi’s shoulder, focused on her breathing, tried to calm herself down. Kakashi simply held her—his large hand on her back like an anchor holding down a world shaking from within her.
But the feeling didn’t fade. It only intensified.
She bit her lip as her hips reacted without permission. Just slightly. A subtle movement she could probably blame on an accident.
But she knew. It wasn’t an accident.
She shifted again, just a little. Tried to mask it with a held breath.
Kakashi didn’t move. But his body tensed. She felt it.
One more small motion. Just... testing.
A gentle friction, almost imperceptible. But her body registered it all. And it felt—God—it finally scratched that itch beneath her skin she’d been holding back all day.
Kakashi inhaled quietly. Then his voice came—low, husky. "Shizune..."
She froze. Her heart jumped into her throat.
Kakashi turned his head slightly, his face only inches from hers. His eyes were serious. But also... aroused. The control he always wore was starting to crack.
"I could ask you to get off right now," he murmured, his voice so close, "But I don’t think that would solve anything, would it?"
Shizune didn’t reply. She only looked at his masked lips, felt the beat of his heart through his chest.
Kakashi raised a hand and cupped the side of her face. "If you keep going like this, I’m going to stop being professional."
Shizune blinked, her breath ragged, her body trembling. Then, softly, almost breaking, she whispered, "Can I stop too?"
And so the two of them sank into a slow burn of awareness. Amid the rebelling hormones and overlapping breaths, they found a space they had never acknowledged: Where ovulation wasn’t just a cycle, but the oldest reason to feel alive. In the lap of a Hokage and within the embrace of a woman who finally stopped fighting herself, the night didn’t end with regret—but acceptance. That maybe, just once, the body and the heart could agree to fall... together.