seen from Angola
seen from Yemen
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Nepal
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Do I have a type in fictional men? Apparantly yes.
I love your writing and would love to see something from you about Nightshade! How about Goemon/Enju first night? Or someone else of your choosing from Nightshade?
I am so happy you requested this, it’s great to get a chance to write for someone who has been such a thoughtful and appreciative reader. Your comments always make me feel like I can take my writing wherever I want! AND Goemon is one of my faaaaaavorites from Nightshade... so this is a real treat. 🙇🏻♀️💜 I really hope you will enjoy it! One thing: it’s their first time, but it’s not night. I hope it will still work for you. The idea of Goemon having sunny, lazy, loving [REDACTED] was TOO GOOD AND RIGHT.
This is the LAST of the Valentine’s Day tipseus (only four days into March, feeling #great about that), I’ll make a masterlist of them tomorrow and put it on my... masterlist. 😏 Thanks to everyone who sent in a request! I’m really happy with a lot of what I made. Each request was good practice + a chance to exercise self-discipline and stick to task. This will probably be one of the last times I take free requests like this, and I hope any/everyone who read them enjoyed them!
He was stretched out in their room at an inn-- each inn was exciting but they were starting to blend together-- on a lazy morning. Enju was sitting in front of him, still close from where he’d hugged her before dozing off. She was rolling up the extra pairs of clothes they’d washed while in the town. It had been such an easy stay, such a nice place. They’d visited shops and springs. They’d had some time to grow even closer.
There was a sensual energy between them now. Not something violent or crackling; it was golden and warm, like a sunrise on a safe morning. It made her feel like a cat, she wanted to stretch all her arms and her jaw and tongue in the soft shine of it and then curl up as it warmed her to some inhuman level of satisfaction. She did not yet know it, only that it hovered beyond her. Closer every day. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to run to it, but she loved it when he pulled her close, and sometimes when his hands cradled her face and his tongue coaxed hers, she wanted to grab at that energy. She grabbed at him instead, and when she did, he always groaned.
It always gave her goosebumps, made her fidgety in his arms. She was lost in thought, hands still over the clothes when his voice by her hip interrupted her thoughts.
“You know,” Goemon said, his voice even lower and lazier than usual, sleep-slurred, “I think our eyes match.”
Sometimes she still couldn’t make heads or tails of the things he said. But she could always tell when the joy in his laughter was because of her confusion, the way it was just then. His chuckle was low like his voice had been, and his tongue rubbed the edges of his teeth like he was savoring a hidden taste.
“When I look at you,” he explained, propping his head up on a hand (some days he never got off the floor if he could help it), “And when I get close, like this, and look at myself in your eyes...”
They had been kissing and embracing one another so often lately that she expected it, actually leaned down just a little to meet him and began to close her eyes. But he stayed where he was, and when she blinked her eyes open he was grinning at her.
“When I look at my reflection in your eyes, Enju, the color is the same,” he said. And then he did move toward her, and whispered, “It’s very pretty.”
She felt hot to the very backs of her ears, his presence enough to overwhelm her and his voice like that enough to outright stun her. His laugh brought her back. The tiny kisses and the way he nuzzled her cheek kept her pinned in place with gentle weight and no sharpness at all. He’d done some shinobi maneuver to sit with her when she was lost in his affection.
“I don’t know what my eyes look like,” she confessed, closing her eyes again and letting him press his lips to the start of her braid.
He pulled back. “Is that so? Can’t have a beautiful thing like you not knowing how lovely she is. I’ll get you a glass,” he promised. He promised her so many things, and though many of the promises were for things that would only be proven true over time, all the immediate ones he kept. He had her trust.
When Goemon pulled her gently into his lap, she moved with him. It reminded her of the day he’d first tied her hair. Now they did that for one another every day, an unspeakably sweet intimacy she cherished. A tiny, animalistic part of her wanted to pounce on it, same as the way she wanted to grab at the lust between them.
“You haven’t even looked at yourself in a pond?” he asked. His arms came around her and his knees went up on either side of her, more like pillows than a fence. He curled around her back and the width of his hands rested on her belly. The unspoken promise was warm as the morning-- this was more direct than most of his teasing.
“Oh,” she said, “I guess you’re right. I just don’t have a good sense of what my face looks like. I’m not sure I could tell you what color my eyes are.”
Right beside her ear, he murmured, “That’s definitely a shame. When we settle somewhere, I’ll get you a glass. And before that, the next time we buy you something nice, we’ll ask the shop to bring out something so you can see yourself.”
She smiled and he kissed her cheek and asked if she was happy.
“Very,” she whispered, nodding.
“A glass will be good to have,” he mused. “There are... other things we can do with one.”
She leaned back against him and enjoyed the way he made himself as soft as possible to allow her to be comfortable. “Like what?” she asked, honestly curious.
So completely was she relaxed against him, she felt the precise second he got less soft behind her. His chest held a breath, then expelled it on a laugh that seemed more likely to curl around their feet than float. Happy, with a note of stress. She didn’t like hurting him, but wasn’t it good that she wasn’t the only one with that heavy yearning when he held her like this? Enju didn’t know exactly what he was implying, but she knew what kind of thing he was talking about.
“I’ll show you when we have one,” he promised
She smiled wider and closed her eyes. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said. One of his hands left her belly and trailed up her throat and chin, his touch cherishing her like a painter’s brush.
“Not if I hold you to me first,” he said, all that golden energy brought suddenly to a boil. “What do you say to that, hmm?”
She opened her mouth to take a deep breath before answering, and his fingertips pulled very gently at her lower lip, stroked her chin, went back with just a little more strength to touch her tongue. So her answer was the throaty sigh she had come to know over the last weeks, and her hands going to his forearm to keep him in place.
“Yes,” she said, wetting the tip of his finger with the word. “I say yes.”
He groaned like she’d kissed him, even though she had not. Not yet. And then he did something very fast with his arms and she was rising up and in them, tucked tight to his body, moving through the air as he carried her over to the inn’s bedding. It was still a rumpled mound of cloth. And a very soft landing pad, it turned out.
As always, his hand behind her head kept her safe. As usual, his eyes on hers-- were hers really such a beautiful green-blue?-- made her glad for his protection. In his hands and his gaze, tucked beneath the hidden strength of his body, Enju felt as small and treasured as a miraculously discovered pearl.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“What aren’t I doing,” Goemon said. “What haven’t we been doing, hmm?”
He went for the spot he liked to love at the side of her neck, the one that was tender if she touched it these days, thanks to all his attention. But he didn’t pull the skin with his mouth like she expected. Instead, his hand slipped from the back of her head to skim down the bedding beside her body, until it landed at the knot of her obi. “This alright?”
She nodded tightly and his lowest chuckle yet, hot against her throat, made her leg muscles tense and flex.
“Just be gentle,” she said to the ceiling tiles.
Goemon brushed his nose along the side of her throat, back and forth. Back and forth. He kept going as he undid the knot in his hand and dragged her clothes open. Enju’s leg muscles flexed again and then relaxed, and with them her back and shoulders. The soft layers of fabric below her cradled her body as he told her of course he would, wasn’t that the point? He stroked the edge of her open kimono, never quite touching skin.
“Has this been difficult for you?” he asked. “Waiting?” Fingers landed on her naked middle with the lightest brush of touch.
She gave him an mmmhmm, then a gasp as one of the fingers, wide enough that she thought it might have been the side of his thumb, stroked into the curve of her navel. She felt somehow tuned by it, primed. There was something in her soul that touch set into the same crouch her body would bend into before it would broke into a sprint.
“Tell me whenever you like something,” he said, finally kissing her neck with even more gentleness than she’d asked for. “I don’t want to keep it from you, so just tell me whatever I do that you like. And anything you don’t like.” He pushed himself up a little bit to look down at her, expression so heated and tender it made her ache for his kisses.
After she agreed, she told him as much, and he smiled as he came down to give her the kind of kiss she liked best: slow and dizzy making. She he was already laying down, so there was no risk of falling and it could be all bliss. She put her hands on his cheeks and let him love her mouth while she loved his. Then, when she was all relaxed again, he did something she really liked. That thick, warm thumb traced all the way down her belly, over a curve on her body that felt like a cliff face, a waterfall, some important precipice she was about to learn the meaning of.
“Do it,” she whispered. She could feel her own blush, could even feel the way the heat of it was trapped by his face and returned to her, but it was nothing next to her need. “Please.”
“Polite, polite,” Goemon drawled. And when his touch stroked gently against her, she throbbed so deep inside herself it nearly hurt, and she lurched up with a gasp. Thankfully he was a ninja and saw it coming. He moved back in time to save their heads from colliding.
His face was all concern. “Bad or good?” he asked.
She couldn’t quite say good. She kept her eyes on his as she laid back down, and watched the grin curl up one side of his face.
“That good?” he asked, following her for more kisses. Shyly, she lifted her hips, minutely seeking the return of his hand.
“Don’t forget to talk, pretty girl,” he said kindly. So she said “Please,” again, and got to watch his beautiful blue-green eyes narrow and go dark. And then she closed hers and gave herself over to his tongue in her mouth and his touch somewhere new and very, very lucky.
It was slippery, but not too slippery. Every time he rolled his finger in a circle it brought a new moan out of her, tiny but inescapable. Especially because he stayed so close to her, chest half against hers, mouth never leaving her. He seemed to drink in each noise, and gave her a few to drink down as well, breaths of praise and soft groans. She could feel his hips shifting beside her and it made her feel somehow powerful.
“So perfect,” he whispered. “Still like it?”
“Yes!” she gasped out when he sped up. Still such a gentle touch, but faster now, less time for her to live between the short strokes of contact. Her thighs laid themselves open a little wider just so she didn’t overheat.
“That’s a good girl, so good. Want to try something you might like even more?”
With great struggle, she managed to open her eyes and look at him skeptically. It made him laugh, bright and loud, and rub the tip of his nose against hers. “Your choice,” he told her. “But I’d recommend it.”
“...Alright,” Enju said. She already liked what he was doing. If there was something more, she wanted to try it. She knew he would take care of her.
He pressed down, following along her skin, and slid his finger lower. She could feel herself parting for him like the flesh of a peach, unconscious but very willing. She had never seen a fruit give under pressure so very light as his was now. Still, there was the stickiness of a peach, or dango drizzled with syrup, like they’d had at one of the other inns.
He’d brought her out of misery and into a world of flavor and joy. She knew so much now.
“Breathe,” he reminded her, and gently pressed one finger inside her, so slow it was sweet as syrup, so slow she felt every new place he touched. She sucked in a breath only when his knuckles bumped against her and could go no further, and the air went into her on a sound of need. He pulled his hand back, steady as an archer, and then pressed into her again and she cried out his name-- she couldn’t help it.
“That’s something else you should say,” he told her in his lowest voice yet. “Say my name, just like that, whenever you want.” But there wasn’t much chance, because he kissed her again, and this time there was clear hunger in it. The way he was usually kissing her when they pulled themselves apart.
They didn’t have to do that now, she realized as she cried out into his mouth again. They could stay, and she could venture right into that golden cloud of mysterious, desirous warmth they’d made between them.
Goemon slipped another finger in beside the first, and the stretch of it made her body go stiff. He slowed and she said “More, it feels good,” because it did and he’d asked her to tell him. There was a sense of widening within herself that didn’t feel like anything she had ever experienced, and she liked it. She liked it even more when he kissed her, said “Alright,” and began to stroke her again with his thumb as his fingers moved. She wailed into his mouth, then hissed-- her muscles clenched tight around his fingers with every brief touch above them.
“That’s it, love,” he said quietly. If he hadn’t been so close, she might have missed it over her own sounds. His free hand brushed aside her open kimono and finally covered her breast, all the gentle warmth of his palm making her whimper at the feeling of security in the face of something so new. He had not touched her skin directly like this before, and there was some roughness on his palm that provided a friction she valued in the otherwise pliant cupping of his hand. It felt warm and safe, like the lining of a jewel case made just for her.
“So beautiful,” he whispered. “It’s certainly been difficult for me to want you for so long, you know.” He worked her body with his hands and kept talking to her, sharing his thoughts and the things he noticed about her body. She felt him moving in a new way and watched as Goemon raised one shoulder, then the other, and his own (always loose) kimono started to slip down his back every time he moved his arm. She wanted to watch his body reveal itself, but he began to put a little curve in his fingers inside her, catching the top wall and dragging tenderly against it, and she could do nothing but bend her body in a reflection of his curve to meet him, chest up, head back.
His mouth went down to her lonely breast and made her feel decidedly not lonely. How could a person use their teeth so gently? The warmth of his mouth was indescribably intimate but reminded her of being cuddled, surrounded by the love and softness and heat of a body not her own. As he sucked one nipple and rolled the other between his fingers, hot need spread through her body, an antidote (to what, she faintly wondered) reaching all her extremities. She swore she could feel the tickle of it in her muscles. One day she hoped she might make a medicine so pleasant.
“Enju,” he said, and hearing him say her name was always wonderful... but oh, to hear it muffled by her breast in his mouth was another thing entirely. He gave one hard sick, still gentle but more, and then pulled his body back from hers. She missed him immediately, so much that she felt her first discomfort in all this when his hand left her breast, trailing down. It was still warm, still contact, but not the kind she wanted. And there was nothing inside her now where before there had been him, and it made her miserable.
“Don’t pout,” he laughed. “I’ve waited longer than you. But now it’s time, hmm?”
It was late morning, and they were at one of several inns that were beginning to blur into one experience. This wasn’t their home, but it was where they were. Together.
“Yes,” she said slowly. Solemnly.
He sat on his knees between her legs and used both hands, one slick and one not, to stroke her until the fingers of both his hands slipped over all her wetness, landing on her as raindrops would an uncovered stone. She was certain she was just shy of not being able to stand the emptiness. His touch was good; her greed confused her and added to the need she felt, lust at a pitch she had never yet sung or even knowingly heard. She did not think he had ever been so turned on, either, no matter what he said.
Goemon caught her eye and winked. His charm knew no bounds. “Up,” he said gently, a sticky hand touching one of her knees. She began to bend and he caught the inside of the joint to bring it up so he could kiss the point. Just a kiss, but he looked right at her when he did it and it made her clench around nothing.
“I don’t want you to have to do any work, really,” he told her, bringing up her other knee and pulling her hands to the backs of her thighs. “But this is the easiest way. If you hold on here, it will give you something to squeeze if you need it, and you’ll be able to lift and lower your hips. That gives you some control.”
She nodded, and he smiled and shrugged off his own clothing at last. She had to look down her naked body to see his, and what a sight it was. His skin was as golden as that energy between them, his long frame marked by the sun and a few scars. She had some, too. When they were done, or some other day, she wanted to kiss each one. Brave, beautiful man. Her Goemon.
“My... Goemon,” she said softly. She smiled at him, feeling a little foolish, but his smile only looked pleased, and he said “Yours.” Then his mouth came back to hers, and one of his hands pushed the hair off her forehead and made her feel so very safe and loved, yet again.
His other hand was pulling at his length. She tried to catch a peek and he laughed. Warmly, he promised “I’ll show you another time. Unless you really want to see it now.”
She shook her head and opened her mouth to kiss him again.
“Good girl,” he growled, and she could feel his arm moving faster. Once his knuckles brushed one of her hands, still holding the back of her thigh, and she whimpered into their kisses. Her body wanted his touches again. Or this glorious more he was offering her. She wanted with a selfishness that startled her until she could feel him, thick and blunt, just where he needed to be.
“Remember, you move your hips to help if you need to,” he told her. And then he began to truly push into her and she never wanted to move again, she wanted to stay right there in that moment, in that place, and forever feel the delicious burn filling her, no faster than his fingers had. It went on in a slow, slick forever and she panted and sighed every soft sound of her comfort that floated out of her body on her breath.
“Almost,” he gritted through his teeth. “Tell me how you’re doing.”
“Fine,” she wailed. “Keep going.”
His laugh was almost raspy, but too thick and low to sound harsh. She loved his voice so much. She moaned out his name, trying to keep quiet and not at all sure of her success. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, keeping time with the pulse she could feel around him. That haze of attraction between them had hidden the most perfect heat and now she was there, in it, with him.
When his body was pressed against hers, she felt as though he was settled into every place where her form had any give at all. He did not rest heavily upon her, only completely, and it was wonderful.
“Goemon,” she whispered.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
He made a sound of mild amusement with his tongue and his teeth, closer to a cluck than anything else she could name. “You’re awfully well-versed in what to say, for someone who hasn’t done this before,” he told her. His troubled look (it was so rare to see him anything but easy and calm!) made her giggle.
Enju wanted to hug him, but she kept her hands on her legs. He seemed to be waiting, but she really didn’t know what to say, so she did what he had recommended and shifted up just a little, tensing the muscles of her bottom to push her toward him.
He swore, more callously than she had ever heard him say anything before that moment.
“I take it... that means... you want more?” he asked. The tightness of his voice made her feel proud, somehow. Proud and foolish and in love with him. She thought if she spoke she would never stop talking, so she bit her bottom lip and nodded instead. And shifted again, just to see how good it would feel and what would happen.
What happened was he groaned and leaned forward, rested his elbows by her arms on the bedding, and whispered “Little minx,” before he kissed her soundly and ground himself against her, which forced her mouth to open on a gasp. She squeezed the backs of her legs and tried to grind herself right back, but she couldn’t figure out just how.
Now he laughed, and his kisses turned gentle again. “Just tell me what you like,” he reminded her. “You can have as much of it as you can take.”
“That,” she whispered. “More of that, with your hips.”
He did some other thing with his hips, which was also very nice but not what she had asked him for. The new side to side motion made her whine, but he kept doing it so well it was hard for her to find her voice.
Eventually she did, and she scolded him with it. “Goemon! You said!”
He laughed again. “I did, I did. Forgive me for teasing you,” he begged. “I promise, I’m teasing myself, too.” And then he did it again, properly, pushing them so close together it was like he was touching her in that magnificent way from before, all over again. Now while deep inside her body. It made the most pleasurable shudder rack her body, jittery in her limbs before it left them as relaxed as a steam bath.
His way seemed to be to move slowly and completely. He would pull back until she felt the faintest hint of cool air between them (well, cooler than their bodies), then push his hips down and forward into her and just keep going until they both grunted. The steady pace was enough to pull all her sinews taut as a net, and plenty to make her feel as though she would lose her mind. She did not need control, he was taking perfect care of her.
So she let go of her legs so she could hold him instead. She kept one foot tucked near her body and let the other slide down along the bedding, and put her hands back on his beautiful face.
“I love you,” she told him again. “This is incredible.”
“Don’t make me blush,” he said, but his cheeks were already so ruddy it would have been hard to tell if she did. She waited for his eyes, and when they came to her she looked right into them, marveled at their color against his face, and told him they were beautiful.
He grinned at her and reached back to fit the back of her raised knee into his elbow. The next time his body pressed against hers, her own eyes went so wide she thought she saw all the walls of their room. Possibly beyond them.
After she stopped moaning, he asked, “Do you think we match, then?”
“I hope so,” she whispered.
“Oh? How pretty I must be,” he murmured. She laughed and buried her fingers in the softness of his hair, and pulled him gently toward her kiss, deeply in love and floating in the feel of it.
He kept her laughing, kept her delight as bright and bursting as fireworks as they made love well into the afternoon.
Goemon Valentine Card~
Nightshade is an otome game that REALLY does deserve more love. My love for it is on par with Hakuouki honestly. So why not start with my friend’s beloved ex ninja? XP This is a VERY long overdue birthday present for @dreadrabbit. I hope you like it! >3< <3 Now to finish the rest of my wips! XD
Eventually I want to draw the rest of the cast. Or at least draw Hanzo since he’s my favorite.
Nightshade’s Goemon is a bae <3
@chouxcocoa this is all your fault
*rubs hands* alright gimme some good ol' fluff or spicy headcanon for your three nightshade boys of choice
:} :} :}
Goemon, Hanzo, and Gekkamaru... duh! THANK YOU I love them very very much. Always appreciate you requesting!
Goemon insists on washing her body himself, especially when they’re on the road. “You keep watch,” he tells her, “You need the practice and you need to get clean. I can’t practice for you, so I’ll take care of this.” She might squeak but he’s already in the water with her and gets right to it, gentle with a cloth, lingering over certain places unless/until she scolds him. Sometimes even after she scolds him, and then no one is keeping watch. Y’ALL.
Hanzo learns how to braid so he can help her with her hair. “It’s not so different from nets,” he says when she catches him practicing. He’s not quite pink at his ears but she can tell he’s embarrassed to have been seen at this work for some reason, so she kisses his cheek and means to leave to give him space, but he pulls her down for a proper kiss, intended to be brief but ending up... not. He undoes her braid not long after, when she’s laid out underneath him and her lids seem heavy over her eyes. It is not very good practice because he is distracted by the warmth in her expression when he does it, and is not paying close attention.
Goodest, Kindest, Most Devoted Gekkamaru eats pussy like a goddamn champ, literally no one finer or better at it. He does go a little too hard at first so she has to coax him to calm down, slow down, go easy, but he takes to it like a duck to water. He’s concentrating on her lower half and uses all his physicality there-- biceps against her thighs, forearms on her hips, hands curled firmly around whatever he can reach and thumbs stroking her belly in time with his movements. He knows no fear but not pleasing her and it shows. He’s a quick study that first time and then his technique (watch Enju, respond appropriately to Enju’s reactions, push Enju a little bit at a time) is F L A W L E S S. He’s so gratified by her blissed-out face that he almost wishes he could tell someone about it, but he would never. That face is a glimpse of heaven. Every time he sleeps after putting his tongue on her he dreams he is flying.
so maybe like, nightshade Goemon and a solid 4.5 stars of spice? Solo or with MC, just something to get the fuzzies goin pls
🗣 I LOVE THIS ASK!!! I love Goemon! I love you!
Thank you for requesting this tipseu (these are currently CLOSED, readers, I’m filling requests I got during the open window now), I hope you will enjoy it! This is my first Nightshade request and I am (drunk/) EMOTIONAL that it’s for one of my top-tier faves. 🥰
This turned out more warm-n-fuzzy than fire-n-fuzzy, but his horn is silently blaring.
He’s no self-aggrandizer, not to himself. He stretches the truth and allows others to build him up in their minds in the careful silences he creates. But he’s realistic with himself about what he can and can’t do. Goemon can do a lot, and he can want to change the world for her, but he can’t actually do that. Modest thing that she is, though... she’s changing his world, every day. Every night between days.
At night, especially, he can be honest about what he wants: all her smiles, all her laughter, safely stolen from the people who don’t care about those things or see their value. He wants to take those things away with her and put her somewhere safe with them. And he wants to be there to watch her use them at her leisure.
Leisure, he thinks, rolling his eyes. They are sharing a bed of leaves, curled up tight together under a coat he stole from the last town they passed, and it is raining. He’s getting a little too old to enjoy sleeping on the ground, he’s happy to cede that misery to better shinobi. The denseness of two fallen trees makes a space that mostly covers them so long as they remain curled around one another. The hiss of the rain is cool, and not so loud that anyone he could fight off would be able to sneak up on them. Despite the rocky ground beneath the leaves, it’s not the worst he’s had to rough it.
But he has not yet had to be this kind of close to her while he watches her, not when the pinched look on her face relaxes into the placidity of sleep and they’re both several days from a proper steam bath so no matter how many times they rinse themselves in streams, they smell like forest and sweat and the fish and herbs they eat. Heat from her body has brought out some scent from tiny packets of medicine she keeps tucked into her clothes. It reminds him of courtesans’ enclaves, the ways women smell better than men.
There’s a sweet tension coiling around the two of them over the last few days that he has not had time to experience before, though he knows what it is. Because of it, and probably because of their closeness on that night in the forest, when he smells those medicines his tired body does not fight imagining carefully unwrapping her and setting every little envelope and length of fabric aside until she is bare and blushing. He could touch her gently, spread the warmth from her face to the rest of her. Rub the muscles of her legs and back until she melted, and then cover her with his body and share whispers.
He imagines more, naturally. Her pretty features drawn together in pleasure instead of worry, turning to one side and then the other. A lip plump from kisses, bitten to hold back throaty sighs. Would she be quiet? He’s certain she would try, the way she is now, and he likes the idea of taking her somewhere far away where she has the safety to be herself, as silent or noisy as she would like to be, wherever she falls between every extreme. She’s got a good heart, this one. It makes his heart want a lazy life with her in it. Not snatches of time but the kind of time they have to be snatched from.
Goemon doesn’t waste time begrudging or denying that he has those desires. He leaves that to better shinobi.
He likes a happy tumble as much as the next man, but it would be different with her, he thinks. At first, at least. Wouldn’t it be nice to have the time and space for her to shake off the sadness her scheming father put on her? He wants to take good care of her, of her heart. Of her heat.
It’s best to relax the body and fall asleep quickly. He doesn’t care. He likes this sleepy but not asleep place his mind is in, and he lets himself imagine her clear voice crying out one precious note, like a glass bell. Her face and neck damp from sweat and kisses. Her belly and thighs a slick mess-- what a dream it is, to make a mess, and to leave one is so out of the question he almost hears Hanzo’s voice. It nearly kills his mood as well as Hanzo would, so he retreats to think of her daintiness and the way her strength surprises so many people. Including him, sometimes. What else could she do with that?
He knows some women like to ride their lovers, using muscles those partners can see and ones they can only feel. He has to wonder what control she might have been taught over those parts of herself. Some clans teach it to all kunoichi, some clans only to a few. Goemon wouldn’t mind if she knew, nor would he mind teaching her. It’s really getting to the point where whatever she is... that’s what he wants. He’ll have to decide what to do with that at some point.
Before he commits to light, sensible sleep, he thinks of fucking her gently with his fingers and stroking the side of her face, encouraging her to move as she likes and tell him if she wants different pressure. A long, wet day of long, wet sex, spent somewhere safe and well-stocked with everything they’d need to not leave for awhile. Somewhere with a sturdy little tokonoma to tuck her into, a little domestic dais where she could rest with her legs spread until his tongue couldn’t make them shake any longer.
Maybe what he needs to do is get a little house like that in order. Maybe he’ll do just that after they get some rest.
Maybe when the rain stops he’ll step away for a few frantic minutes and deal with what she’s doing to him. Tucked as close as she is, there’s no way he wants to escape just then. She needs sleep and so does he.
He sleeps and his dreams know no limits.
you’re a terrible ref, Hanzo
