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lewdonmytimeline
What it says on the tin. Whether it's doujins, birdsite, Pixiv, or some other place, talk about artists to watch. Bring up things you like, maybe help others find new things, basically.
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I think Kaiou/Fukutsuu Okosu may be either dead or just gone from art. His website is gone and his twitter and pixiv have been inactive since the start of 2020. What a shame.

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This was a ballroom. No other word comprised so much scarlet plush and gold. Chandeliers of wrought brass blazed sextuple-split light from their crystalline candles. The matching, motley paint on the walls was still very new; fairies in the deeper reaches of the mansion could be glimpsed sporting it like veteran scars. Half a dozen hues in the honour of a goddess revivified.

And beneath them, believers thronged.

Maids scurried in strength around and around the ballroom, some laden under trays of colourfully glazed pastries and some – the guests’ gauche attentions. The job posting had been undiscriminating; here and there, therefore, it was possible to see a furry tail or ear or wing failing the human spot-check. The Scarlet Devil Mansion, nevertheless, was where everything went; and the human and youkai maids conducted themselves, if nothing else, with fewer spilled drinks and pulled pants than even the most disciplined fairies.

And this was Sekibanki. Sekibanki stood in a meticulously selected “there” rather than “here” at the farthest-flung end of the ballroom, scowling. Sekibanki was, pointedly, not drawing herself a cup of punch from the nearby bowl; she furthermore wore an unimpeachably ironed headdress, ruffled half-apron and a puffy-sleeved dress with a skirt designed to pin the guests’ attention low and away the parts of her which could’ve otherwise given them distress. Insofar as these facts, it could be surmised Sekibanki was a maid among maids at the beck and call of the Scarlet Devil and her pet goddess’s. Insofar as the chitty back in the pocket of her cape, that would’ve been correct.

The chitty hadn’t the half of it down.

Sekibanki sighed. The man beside her gave her a curious, sidelong glance. Sekibanki maintained it was a man because he listed off as one: a head (hah!) and shoulders taller than she, a cheap waistcoat over his linens, arms with longer reach than was their own good. Considered from the other end of the ball, he was misfortune waiting to happen on the way home.

“… It is nothing, sir,” she said frostily, st
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This story, like all your others, gets the fap seal of approval from me. Many buckets were filled.

Captcha: HeRMiT5
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You have a very unique style, and a talent for writing exceptionally engaging smut.

Mokou's story with that school aide milked buckets of cum from me, and this one has been no different. Thank you very much, count me among your group of avid readers.

Blessed captcha thread: WiLyOkUU54
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I love reading how Sekibanki slowly succumbed to her perverted desire. And the Chimata cameo was really cute. I hope she appears in your stories more often.

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Miss Keine Kamishirasawa of the history school swept around the staff room like a maître d’ moments before a bomb went off in the kitchens. The pageant of her done-up raincoat coming more and more undone by the jiggle would have been more arresting if Miss Keine hadn’t been apologising profusely or, for preference, doing what she was apologising for, which was to say producing from the cabinets of the room ever more pressing paperwork. On the broad, military-style desk by the staff room’s single, rain-greyed window, assignments and typeset fill-in-the-blanks piled up architectonically.

“Thank you once again,” said Miss Keine with rattlesnake speed; “and, once again, I am sorry. This really, really is an emergency. I’ll make this up to you, of course I will. Thank you. And, I’m sorry. This is the last set, promise.”

A thumb-tick file thumped on the desktop, fanning out its immediate neighbours. It looked not unlike a card-riffling accident.

The man behind the desk stared. A faint smile hovered around the outskirts of his lips. It was a smile that met your daughter’s mysterious boyfriend of two weeks. He twirled a fountain pen between his fingers as though contemplating deforestation.

“… It’s,” he said, manfully self-controlled, “fine, Miss Keine. All in the job description, isn’t it… just?”

The flurried teacher gave his odd pause no second guess. She bowed as low as her waist. “I’m so sorry, Taiki!” There was some consternation as her coat popped suddenly half-open, but soon gone. Miss Keine straightened up and smiled in a distracted way. “It is the Kijou; their son is marrying a very conscientious woman next week, and they wanted my eye over the wedding contract. The parents, too, have some qualms, I hear, since they are nobility and the girl hails from priestry; there is the matter of the dowry for that cause, or omitting thereof, religious clauses, landing issues, vows, it’s a right mess…”

Taiki nodded along to the teacher’s bumbling, wearing an expression made from his work. He held his breath like a thrashing fairy.

In the woodchip-scented, under-desk gloom, the fingers which’d hooked under
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This was Taiki’s. If these had sounds, his would be the sound of Miss Mokou being grasped forcefully by the chin. It sounded something like this:

“Mmwhuh? Whuh naoww?”

Taiki’s reply was to jab a thumb between her lips and gently yet staunchly haul the pervert girl upright. The slight, womanly hand bolstering his dick slacked then refastened higher up his shaft as Miss Mokou’s coolly phlegmatic face came to level with his own. Well, except the phlegm wasn’t phlegm, and it weren’t hers to begin…

It was anyway another thing strumming his pulled nerves. Miss Mokou was near as damn it as tall as he. All right, he may have had her out-spaced in other directions, but none rankled as badly as the one making it a tiptoe-less effort for her to jam her tongue into his mouth at any time of the day. And she did look a girl keen on no less even now, twirling said tongue round Taiki’s thumb like a piece of stuck hard candy.

There was no ignoring the RSVP. Not completely. And so, weathering the smell, Taiki leaned in with all his preponderance to smooch the cleaner corner of Miss Mokou’s lips. The type of woman he dreamt of marrying, mentally pinned and catalogued, was jarred out by something germinating beneath when the one who wouldn’t ever marry him on her – or, sooner, his – life tipped backwards against the paper-heaped desk with an uncharacteristic squeal. The students’ brainy outpourings skidded under a hectic palm.

“… Gettin’ a little feisty?” rallied Miss Mokou. “Careful, womenfolk go head over heels for that.”

For a heartbeat, even if it was among those look-into-her-eyes-and-you’ll-skip-it kinds of heartbeats, Taiki’s machismo wobbled. Then, leasing the grit from his dick, he swivelled Miss Mokou’s chin to the side and spoke into her ear.

“… You will take off these pants, Miss Mokou.”

“… Told you, boy,” she mumbled around the thumb barring her lips, “that place is for—”

Taiki pressed her to the edge of the desktop. “You will take off these pants, Miss Mokou,” he repeated; “I expect you will, as then we’ll proceed to give that place wh
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Wait he lives in the scarlet devil mansion?
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Jealous (in a sense) Kaguya next?

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The sole daughter of her late clan abiding, Taishi Lord’s counsel and cohort, a Tao adherent of not inconsiderate pedigree, Futo of the Mononobe family made a face. Observationally, she rapped her knuckles on her cage’s bars.

This it was. Stout bamboo poles in a lattice, twined together with waxed sinew and tin wire. Yea-tall thing, enough spacious to pace about albeit not to repose. Gaps ample enough to stick a head out and peer down the precipice of the rock shelf and the vertiginous, distant landscape below. Mayhap a shoulder, should she wedge one in sidewise – yet not on her life her chest or her proud hips. Nowise to go in any case except straight up or down the sheer, craggy cliff face of the lofty Youkai Mountain.

Indeed, indeed. It was much, much a cage. And it couldn’t hold her.

To avow so, Futo puffed herself up like a fish and flung a selection of choice taunts at the lone Tengu patrolman left behind to watch her.

The lupine lackey shook his silvern, dog-eared head alongside the pom-poms of his tokin whence he knelt quietly on his overcoat – yet ignored elsewise the likening of his chic ponytail to that of a mangy spaniel’s. He dripped more oil from a bamboo tube onto the waterstone before him and carried on whetting his curved, vicious-looking cavalry sabre. Good job, too. Went to show he cared for his quarries’ comfort, even if said comfort should come in its finality. Scrape-scrape-scrape it went, a clarion call to flee for humans and versant fauna likewise.

Sated – on that front if not others – Futo deflated into silence. Her own impressive hat had been lost someplace in the turbulent circumstance of the previous hour, and her knees were a mite chilly in the upland breeze, but the spry shikaisen kept herself drawn. Smart. An etching-perfect pantomime of a pert, female captive. The sword’s grinding ground away her patience as well, although she knew it for what it was; of this, she was iron-certain. The insides of her confoundedly unremoved clothes piled on the proof. Tension electrified her like one of Tojiko’s bad moods.

Futo
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>knotted donger
I'm not usually one to remark on odd things in porn, but that made me squint. Alien fish vagoo was close enough to a certain edge for me.

>everything else
Going to be real honest, I didn't feel the same kind of vibe from previous stuff as this. I found myself skimming more than reading because there were bits that felt like padding. Maybe it's partly because I don't give a toss about Futo, or the Taoists generally, but I wasn't much feeling it this time. Maybe it's me? Dunno.

Still like your prose. I wish wordplay like yours was a bit more common here.
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>>41158
>I'm not usually one to remark on odd things in porn, but that made me squint. Alien fish vagoo was close enough to a certain edge for me.
The theme was depravation/self-corruption from the very beginning, so light bestiality seemed the natural end of the slope. I understand it’s not everybody’s cup of… cuppable thing, but if it is wrong then in this particular case I do not wish to be right.

>Going to be real honest, I didn't feel the same kind of vibe from previous stuff as this. I found myself skimming more than reading because there were bits that felt like padding.
Some were, admittedly. Ichirin’s scene, for example, was a recycled scene from an earlier WIP of this work that I threw back in because why not. I am, however, of the idea that selective reading is natural and expected of written pornography, since your, ahem, interest in the contents of the text will inevitably be more selective than an absolute, 100% match for whatever the writer’s personal fancy was. It’s an unfortunate and inherent part of the genre, but perfectly understandable.

For instance, I got a hefty kick out of writing Futo having her reliquary licked, but somebody who’s not personally into the idea will have little to no reason to read on once they’ve figured out what the paragraph entails. If titillation is the main goal, which it is here, there is simply no universal zone to strike. The D likes what it likes; what it doesn’t, there’s no point powering through.

At least such is my experience with written pornography, and why I endeavour to keep distinct paragraphs more or less “thematic” within themselves.

Alternatively, I’m making excuses and just didn’t put enough effort into some parts, counting instead on the fetish by itself to carry you through. The guess is anyone’s.
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Did it died?

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Something was broken in Gyutan, the Oni.

Had to be. It was, at any rate, the only explanation for contemporary happenings Gyutan would drink to. He was not a man or, rather, Oni who took especial pleasure in being brusque and forceful on women. “Good lad” was the term applied to him often by the older Oni, which tended to translate in the younger, streetwise ones’ vernacular as “schmuck.” And a schmuck, rhyme such as it might, did not tend to fuck.

Half-right, they were. Gyutan was by no book definition a fucker, but he did have a girlfriend. They had met in the vast construction yards of the Underworld’s New Capital and, via his aforesaid schmuckery, had leased to her the vantage point of his shoulder and the foghorn of his throat. Her name was Yamame Kurodani, and she was the architect of the (to be) grand (future) city. They’d gotten on like uncles, which was to say they’d spent evening after evening sequestered in Yamame’s workshop – away from everybody else though very much nearby a vat of moonshine that kicked like a horse with a bee up its bunghole. The tiny earth spider could hold her booze like no bottle’s business and, to Gyutan’s thrilled horror, got hopelessly randy when drunk.

Half-right because, owed to her modest persuasion in the spatial area, Yamame could fit at the extreme wettest Gyutan’s middle finger, and not even up to the third knuckle. She’d fitted it, however, with much fervour and almost shameful frequency, in return enlightening the callow, young Oni on why the earth spiders, Yamame included, were fabulously able to swallow a man whole.

And they’d drunk. Oh, how they’d drunk.

They’d drunk their treacherously undulating way into the preliminary years of the New Capital, always arm-in-arm, always sharing a cup and a spot on the floor in the mornings. They’d been silly, in love and, as these things go, inseparable. Up to a point.

Then, the Ministry had called in. The mighty Ministry of Right and Wrong which, having an aeon in the past fled the realm for greener pastures, had let their hounds slip into their whilom estates to find them o
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>>41144
>NTRfiends DECAMP
>write m:netorare with only the conceit of a dumb oni averting the premise
does me a thunk
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>>41145
You read it; you don't get to criticise me!
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>>41146
Sure.

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Part of Spooktember >>/gensokyo/16356

++++++++

~~~~~~

Meekness is no flaw. Capitulation is not defeat... if you know what you’re doing. I know what I’m doing. I’m Kiketsu. When your guard is down, their guard is down, and that’s when you strike.

... I’m going over this in my head to remind myself how impressive I am, and how important my job is. It’s me who has to do it! It’s Yachie-sama’s plan, and I won’t let her down!

Ahem...

“Did we take a wrong turn?” the human... well, half-human that I chose speaks up.

We can’t take wrong turns. There’s no other turning to take. This is the Sanzu River. Without a guide, traveling over it is dicey...

... We were supposed to meet Yachie-sama, and she’d take us to the Beast World.

“Otter spirit?” the girl refers to me. If I was in a proper body, I know it’d shiver.

「We’re fine!」 I lie, speaking through her mind. 「Uhh... H-How about I take over for a second?」 Maybe if I’m in control I can... figure things out...

“‘Take over’?” she asks, cocking her head to one side. “What do you m—”

I possess her.

She’s so strong... Are all half-phantoms like this?

This is definitely enough to take down that crafting god...! Yachie-sama’s always got a plan!

... I don’t know how to handle this... “body” thing well.

I look down at this “human” through her eyes. She’s got a sword here. Two swords here.

I draw the shorter one (the longer one was already out). I swing both ahead, trying to figure out her sensations.

I’ve felt everything she’s felt since she accepted to join up with me, but feeling her physical sensations and living through her sure are different...

「Wh-What’s going on!? What are you doing?」

I smile, to relax her.

“Not to worry, Youmu—I know the way so I’ll take us
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You guys are forgetting to vote for the intention.

[X] Tell Youmu to use her hand on him, just once.
([x] Getting him totally relaxed, to attack then and exploit him.)

Putting his fate in her hands in a sense.
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[x] Tell Youmu to show him her bloomers.
[x] Getting on his good side, for help.
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[x] Tell Youmu to use her hand on him, just once.
[x] Getting him totally relaxed, to attack then and exploit him.

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The reception went on.

In the Sun-tower of Old Hell’s New Capital, beneath the suspended mass damper, near on to five score souls had convened around long tables and benches for a grand feast. It was sweltering hot. The air overhead seemed itself to sweat, blue with tobacco smoke and aswirl from cries of “Ho!” and raucous laughter. On the tables, plucked at by hands unconcerned much for hygiene but very much the dibs, greasy roast, vats of mushroom soup, pickled lizard eggs, sheaves of unleavened bread and dried algae were liberally served on wooden and ophite trays. In the gathering hall’s murky heart, over the incandescent firepit, a whole, skinned carcass of a cave bear revolved on an iron spit, looking argumentative about the whole “apex predator” thing.

The feast’s invitees were meat of a different cut. The outcast Oni, if they sobered, filed down their cranial curlicues and generally gave themselves to reformation might – just might – aspire to be somebody’s footstools in New Hell. And, in New Hell, footstools sat around the middle of the food chain. The earth spiders in their droves, the hobgoblins and otherwise assorted, minor youkai playing their horned neighbours’ second fiddle were as good as butt-cushions themselves. The only rational excuse they were here was that the Oni were ill disposed to bear, and somebody else had been brought along to eat it. Here and there, shifty, slitted eyes flitted between it and the untouched algae.

And, there was alcohol everywhere. This comprised pitchers, boxes, decanters, cups, gargling mouths and the floor.

The Kishin chief, Suiki, prime of prime, the daemon of Chikata, lash of New Hell and the hallowed Yama, issued a growl almost of begrudgement at his solitary table. He wasn’t good on small talk or statesmanship or even spearpoint diplomacy. Surreptition, though; now, surreptition was a Kishin’s knife. No hunter of immortals held long onto their head without a dash of eighth circle chicanery. Suiki knew where he was even – and in fact best – when others didn’t.

This was presently of some advantage since, where Suiki was stationed, something rather unthoug
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/ / / /

The rooms had plumbing. That was more than could’ve been said of most of New Hell’s denizens, let alone their homes. It had put Suiki, as it were, in context.

Hecatia strolled out of the shower, nude, crownless, lazily towelling her hair – red again. The choker and chained orbs were gone; had been gone, in fact, no sooner than the doors’ shutting out the party noises below. Out of her clothes and bereft of her devices, Hecatia Lapislazuli was as much a goddess as she had always been – but also, in a hefty, recent addition, a woman. On the raised, western bed, lying naked on its thrice-changed sheets, Suiki felt atingle in areas which, he would have sworn, had been pressed and juiced dry across the previous hours. Tingly in particular was the part the blue-haired Hecatia had clenched her teeth on while squirting on Suiki’s face. That part still reported for duty, sick leave notwithstanding.

There was a phrase, “an apple never falls far from the tree,” and it was Saṃsāra’s own truth, except for Hecatia, for she was someway three trees rooted in the same, unliterary space. They were all Hecatia, which Suiki had learned the hard, wet, intimate way – but Hecatia with slightly differing tastes and experiences. The blue one had a filthy mouth which nonetheless loved being plugged; meanwhile the blond one had acted the unutterable prude all the while roughly milking his dick in the cowgirl position. The red Hecatia, whom Suiki had seen flitting in whenever their lips had been engaged (then, often, married), was the touchy-feely type: all misty-eyed and “kiss me while you fuck me.” The moment-to-moment manoeuvring between the Three had been an exercise.

Where plenty was no plague, two were still company. Three had been a crowd.

And yet… the chief of the Kishin felt easy. Not the ease of a concluded hunt; nor even the pretty break of his straitlaced, bossy Yama reminding him with an oh-so-tragically crooked brow that she was a person with quirks, same as he. Watching Hecatia, a woman adjudged inaccessible by most, himself included, perusing the
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That was a very nice read Reavie.

Liked how ya did the character Suiki a lot and it gave me a bit more insight on how hell is like. even if that's not really the main intent of reading smut I had fun reading it in my own way.

I looked up the Kisin in question and yeah they did appear in Wild and Horned Hermit.
May I ask why you chose said person as the viewpoint of this story?

Other than that, thanks for the time taken to write and share this.
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>>41113
>May I ask why you chose said person as the viewpoint of this story?
Threefold!
1) Needed a male PoV. As I’ve absolutely no grasp of Hecatia’s character, narrating from inside her head would have been excruciating. A blank-ish slate was easier, compared.
2) On that note, I get off on sticking to canon, and Suiki was right there in WaHH, a male character ripe for lewding. What’s more, they both have a vested interest in Gensokyo – practically a ready-made scenario for how they met.
3) Which brings me to the point that somebody who is old-fashioned and/or stuck in their ways is the perfect foil for Hecatia’s explicit desire to modernise and adapt Hell.

I can only apologise their relationship isn’t more personal or heartfelt, but I couldn’t picture either of them committing to anything serious before breaking this particular ice. Oh, well, maybe in a sequel someday…

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Exhibitionism, emotionless chikan, and quite a lot of sex, perpetrated by a mysteriously innocuous and rather muscular, clockmaking man. Main characters: Shinmyoumaru and Seija, and manipulated somewhat by Matara Okina, but our protagonist is most interested in Eiki-sama. And, really, whichever girls he happens to come across.

Thread 1 >>40336

Current vote:


And so we reach a pier, and step off (Satori awkwardly, as she is still very flustered and has yet to pull back up her panties).

“Man, you guys got intense back there!” Onozuka-san says with a laugh while minding her vessel from the pier. “You gonna have sex?” she asks.

“Would you like to join us?” I ask.

“Hmm...?” Komachi hums, looking me up and down, judging to herself. “You look nice. Sure, I’ll hit your dick.”

“Lovely,” I say, while looking down at Satori whose balance I’m still maintaining. She’s very much out of it... “Although...”

“What? You need a place to do it in? We can bang at my place. Now that I’m off the boat I can close the distance in a flash,” says the Shinigami. Right... that was something they could do, I’ve heard. “That said,” she continues, now that she’s oriented the boat toward the opposite shore. “You want me to head back and pick up the other two first? We could make this really fun, and you look like you’ve got enough stamina to handle it.”

Ah... right, Shinmyoumaru and Seija.

Well, there’s a lot to consider with that. Waiting... Satori maybe coming to her senses... perhaps Shinmyoumaru could get crushed amidst bodies...

But it’s Shinmyoumaru sex again, and we’re in a land of oni so maybe she could grow bigger and we could have sex properly... Wait, really? Can I?

Ah, but, the wait time and the complications of a five-person fuck, hmmmm... Shimi might rather I leave that for a more private moment between just us, too..

How about—


[2] “Let’s head to your place now. They can wait and as you can see, I
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>>41104
this is indeed me, btw
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That was a comfy ride. Thanks, friend!
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Really enjoyed following this one. Thanks for all the effort. Even though it had some long breaks in between I'm glad you were able to finish it.

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Quasi-sequel to: >>41058
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Another excellent story, Yaf. Made me feel all warm and fuzzy (amongst other things). Not a huge far of the word 'stud' in this context (feels a bit too forced for me), but otherwise, I'm plenty happy with Marisa's speech.

I'll be looking forward to whatever you put out next, but I won't lie, I've a bit of a yearning for something on the longer side. Or even the safer-for-places-of-work side. You know, if that's still your style.
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>>41089
“Stud” is a reference and a personal inside joke. Imagine, every time it appears in the text, I am chortling like a cock over my rainbow-hued RGB keyboard.

As for long-form stories… those are a bit out of my reach at the present. There are weeks I can comfortably chip away at a piece of text, and then there are weeks I am little more than a worn, human grocery bag in after-work evenings. Consistent output would be a problem, and my abysmal memory would exacerbate the difficulties of planning ahead and execution. Sorry.

… Safer-for-work stories are a possibility, but the plain truth is, I simply have no good enough ideas to warrant realisation, while pornographic content is a unique exercise that lets me flex both kinds of metaphorical muscles. I’ve been entertaining the idea of Grassinterlewds with a little relationship exploration and little to no explicit smut since somebody complained about it in the sequel, but… let’s just say, there are many redheads, and only so many evenings the creative juices move on. It’s a solid maybe.

Now, why I would squander those on a non-redhead, blond witch I do not even particularly care for, and not even for the first time, is anybody’s guess. I sure as heckle don’t know.
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>>41090
>chortling like a cock
Might wanna have that looked at. I hear a certain mansion has a nurse who'd gladly do so...

>rainbow-hued RGB keyboard
Chimata's gaudy rainbow pantsu when

>Consistent output would be a problem
Ain't it always? We're primed to expect that by now. At the very least, you're not about to hear me whinging.

>the difficulties of planning ahead
Mate, I'm a terribad, slow, and inconsistent writer, but even I can spend a month writing out the entirety of a plot in notes to follow later.

>no good enough ideas
>a little relationship exploration
That's not a good enough idea? I don't mind a bit of non-lewd expansion of your lewds. Even if I don't always agree with them, your characterisations leave plenty of ground to tread.

>since somebody complained
Hey, now, my only point was that the smut, like the majority of smut, didn't resonate with me. Doesn't mean I disliked the piece as a whole; I'd not have said anything in that case.

>a non-redhead, blond witch I do not even particularly care for
Dunno, but I don't care much for her either, and yet you made me care long enough for this.

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File 159029214281.jpg - (300.16KB, 800x800, shizuwipeout.jpg)
shizuwipeout
Thread 1: >>38360
Thread 2: >>39475

[x] Find a restraint to ambush Shizuha with.

You twist around and look through a nearby crate, finding… belts. A huge pile of belts mixed with thin, wooden blocks and small widgets. You find some of the belts long, some short, some with, wait a second. Some are very short. Far too small for her waist. Too small even for a fairy’s waist.

What on earth…

Shizuha takes her first step up the ladder. Forget the belts, you need-

Those smaller ones might just fit around her wrists. If that’s so…

No time to think. You reach in, scoop out a large handful, and leap toward the ladder. Shizuha flinches as you dump them beside that ladder.

“What the…”

She turns her head sideways just as you grip her ankle and tug. She clings for a second. You tug again, tearing her free.

There’s a moment of slow, dawning realization, just before she crashes into the wood before you.

Groaning, she starts to pick herself up. Panicking, you reach into the pile and pull one of the smaller belts out. Dropping to your knees, you swing it around her exposed ankles and bind them together, buckling it tight.

“Wh- the hell?” She kicks out, half-groggy. You lean to the side, avoiding her feet just as she throws a hand out, firing out a small cluster of yellow bullets . She plants her hands under herself, pushing herself sluggishly upward.

Snagging another, wider belt, you throw it over her back. Another sloppy, wild volley launches out from her, forcing you to lurch to the side. The moment it’s gone, you drop yourself atop her back, knocking her back down.

“Who the fuck? How did you get out?”

You grunt, pulling the belt around her left arm, then around her torso. She flails, kicking the ground. You feel a burning pop as something st
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And, that is that. It's been quite a ride. I feel like I've made many mistakes, both big and small, over the course of this story, but I learned a lot. In particular, I feel like I've often been far more distant to many of you than I could have been, and I probably could have afforded to be clearer about what some routes meant, or more carefully considered where some should (or should not) have went.

I'd still love to write a few alternate endings but, sadly, I've since found several other projects calling to me. Most likely, I won't find the time for them anymore (almost certainly, it won't be very soon). I wish to apologize for that, and to thank everyone who took the time to vote, to comment, or even just to read this story. Despite its rough edges, it's the first major writing project I'd ever gotten off the ground and as a result, will probably hold a special place in my heart for quite a while.

For everyone with the patience to put up with my mistakes, even briefly, and to still find something they enjoyed here, thank you.
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>>41077
Thanks for finishing the story. It's been a fun ride. I wasn't the best of voters but you did a good job pushing forward and doing something that was pretty different to the other stories. Good luck if you try something new and thanks.
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Thank you for writing this story, it was truly a joy to follow its progress over the last couple of years. Looking forward to reading any future works from you, and good luck!

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