From yonder tale >>/others/65260. This happens at the end of chapter 14 in thread 6, specifically following these bits, if you are in need of context:
>>/others/67515
>>/others/67524
>>/others/67525
>>/others/67533

A young magician gets rather lewd with an ancient oni.

"Any questions?"

"Umm..." I looked up from the odd crisscross craziness that made up this weird place. It was like someone took a bunch of those funky outsider light tube things, lit them up, and made a grid across the everything of everything, but also nothing, because I keep trying to get at them, but they keep not being gotten at! "...Can you repeat that?"

Sighing for the third time, the great voice asked, "Sister, may I kill her?"

"No." Ohh, a new voice!

The other voice took on a begging boom. "Please?" At least she's polite! Sis always said that politeness was important, so maybe I should let her? Ohh, wait, but then I can't do this job I apparently have!

Decisions, decisions...

"You know as well as I why we cannot. Now, answer her questions, sister."

Sighing for the fourth time now, the voice said, "There are some things you must keep in mind, such as-"

“The difference between sex and love is
that sex relieves tension and love causes it.”
— Woody Allen

This contains heavy spoilers for the obvious.

"Ah, Reimu, thank goodness you're here."

The blue-white is here, I thought. The other shrine maiden. Her name is Sanae. Sanae Kochiya. Disciple of the Moriya Shrine.

"I hope you have a good reason for interrupting my tea time, Sanae," I responded to her. She wore this humbled smile that always ticked me off as she came in. I couldn't stand it.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I know it's a bother, but I just wanted your input on a few things, really." She had been relying on me a bit recently.

"A few things, is this going to turn into a dozen before long, as it usually does?" By bit though, I mean a lot.

"N-No! Not at all! Well, I hope, I mean, it's hard to tell with Lady Kanako at times..." She always acts like this is her first time dealing with gods, even though she is veritably one herself. It ticks me off.

"That's what you say every time I say something like that, Sanae. Don't you have any shame?"

"Sh-Shame!? What does shame have to do about any of this!?" She always acts as if we're not competing for faith. She's so confident and certain about herself and her shrine's deities. That ticks me off too.

The Moon is eternal.

When Lord Tsukuyomi first trod this pure earth, aeons ago, He set out to create a haven everlasting. Attended by divine spirits, His will impervious, His people under His wing, our Lord raised from the fragile sands of the Moon’s deserts a kingdom to linger in perpetuity. I was there. Shapeless then – my form and Fate yet undefined. My shames not yet past. But I was there; and I drank of Lord Tsukuyomi’s words as he spoke a new era into being.

It gladdens me to remember this. It helps me to maintain my pace as I walk. It lets me cope with the fact.

The fact that I, Kishin Sagume, am currently wearing no panties.

As I near my destination, deeper in the casern of the Lunar Palace, I begin to pass by rabbits rushing to their morning chores. The females, plump and bright, curtsy at my approach; the males, stern and red-eyed, nod their heads in obeisance. None stop for long. The slave race may possess senses keen beyond our formal recognition, but they daren’t question a Lunar lord – even in their own domicile. I acknowledge, with a nod and a smile, a cluster of rabbits who had visibly slept ill the previous night. They blush when I do so. Yet I see their crumpled ears perk up a little as I stride past. This will tide them over the day. For reasons unfathomable to me, the rabbits seem to value my attention over that of other masters.

Some, perhaps, value it a touch too high. Or would that be too low? I am unsure still when I reach my goal.

One billet among a hundred. No plaque, no individual marks. It shames me to know exactly where I am anyway.

I do not knock. Knocking is for the help. The door slides aside as surely as it would have if I had. It does its own knocking when I shove it closed behind me. The noise of activity outside softens to a murmur. I blink my eyes, adjusting to the dim lighting in the room. The billet is narrow. Narrower than some rabbits would call narrow otherwise. It is enough, just hardly, to fit a strip of floor, a low eating table, a single cot made to fold up into the wall, and a writing desk tucked under the window, opposite the door.

Anyone got something? Post here

It was hard for Kosuzu Motoori to discern when exactly she fell in love with the carpenter’s son.

A barely-legal bookkeeper does coitus with the hero of this story.

Quiet and swift, you step across the soft grass, guided by the brilliance of a full moon. Every shop, stall, and public office has long since closed, but you are still far from home. Small, humble headstones pass by, but you pay them no mind, or at least, you try not to. Youkai visit the graveyard. One might already be here, hiding in the dark. Watching, listening.

One of them spends entirely too much time here, especially on nights like these. You’ve crossed paths before, but only ever briefly. As brief as you could possibly make it. Youkai tend to get weird around you, after a while, and you can’t let that happen with her. Just need to clear the graves and reach the walls.

Soft, wet grass yields to your sandals you ease them down, one step at a time. You catch a glimpse of flickering torchlight ahead. It’s the main gate, maybe a couple minutes away if you sprint. You feel like you’re home already-

“SURPRISE!”

The deafeningly cheery voice slams into you, just as her generous breasts crash against your stiffening back. Kogasa Tatara. Local blacksmith, part-time pseudo babysitter. Youkai. Your body locks up. You can’t move. Maybe this is just your second encounter. Breath shaking, you run though plans. She needs to leave. Soon.

Then she wraps her right hand around your breast, and the following squeeze shatters your thoughts. Her short hair brushes against your neck as she leans over your shoulder. A soft lilac scent wafts in, as time slows down. Fabric folds and pinches under her fingers, rubbing against your flesh. Then she giggles.

“Boo!”

You flinch, jerking forward. Another hand wraps around your waist, pressing you back against her stomach. Her hard, abdominal muscles and her large breasts force your own torso out, as she lays her head down on your neck.

Previous thread: >>35811