[pre-story]Last musing of the month is another installment of Lien's Adventures! Lien visits and old flame, and things quickly get heated! Clickbait aside, though, there's no actual sex in this one, just a fight scene I enjoyed writing way too much to stop, with some relationship-establishing dialogue in there. Next time, though, I can get straight to the fun stuff.
I always worry when I post stuff that isn't at least 50% sex. I figure you guys are here for the smut, after all, so I try to deliver that. But then, I suppose stuff like this is just going to happen from time to time, and stressing myself out over it isn't going to do anyone any good. Inspiration is a fickle mistress.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
As always, if you like what you see [redacted][/pre-story]
When you ask a mainlander to describe a pandaren, they usually use words like ‘honorable’, ‘friendly’, ‘wise’ or ‘fat’. Rarely is ‘intimidating’ on the list. Kenneth, however, was learning the hard way that it was very appropriate, at least, when Cheng Stoutbarrel, honored brewmaster and his boss, loomed over him with a fire burning in his eyes. The pandaren man’s massive bulk, impressive height, and broad, powerful shoulders were plenty intimidating on their own. But add to that the man’s legendary status and position, his sheer presence, and the suddenly-clear memory of that one time he punched a hole in an oak barrel, and they all combined to completely overwhelm the smaller human. Kenneth flattened himself against the wall, shrinking away from the brewmaster’s infamous wrath. “I- I’m sorry, sir, I-”
“YOU WHAT?!” Cheng demanded with a mighty roar, cutting off Kenneth’s stammering apology. “YOU DIDN’T FUCKING THINK, THAT’S WHAT! LOOK AT THIS!” He commanded, gesturing wildly at a nearby keg,half-buried in a mound of rapidly-expanding foam, more and more pouring out of the open tap-hole. “IT’S FUCKING RUINED! I CAN’T FUCKING SERVE THIS SHIT! OM NOM, DID YOU EVEN LOOK AT WHAT YOU WERE ADDING? ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND?” He bellowed, lapsing into Pandaren for a moment to properly express his fury. “GET THE FUCK OUT! GET OUT OF MY BREWERY! YOU’RE FUCKING FIRED!”
As Kenneth broke down crying, a new voice called out from behind the furious pandaren. “Om nom, Chug, still got that temper, huh?”
Monday, October 2, 2017
[Musing] The Tale of Mirabel and Erik the Pure, P.2
[pre-story]The conclusion to the patron-requested story of a lovely angel and her long-lost mortal love in paradise! Not much to say on this one, so just enjoy!
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
Mirabel stood there, nude. She was a vision of angelic perfection, literally and figuratively. Her smooth, pale skin was devoid of even the smallest of blemishes, her face was soft and kind, her cheeks bearing a rosy flush, her full lips naturally pink, her features framed by long, wavy golden hair and lit by the golden glow of the halo hovering just inches over her head. Her body was equally divine, an hourglass figure, curves that even the most beautiful of mortal women would envy, but not so exaggerated they looked unnatural. Her breasts were perfect, supple mounds the size of oranges that sat proudly on her chest, riding high without the slightest hint of sag, with the unmistakable shape and softness of natural breasts. Her silhouette tapered in at the waist, her stomach smooth and flat, with just the faintest hint of healthy tone beneath it, then flared out into generous, rounded hips that in turn tapered down to shapely thighs, the perfect blend of firm muscle and soft flesh. Between those thighs laid the promised land, her womanhood, a small patch of golden cotton candy fuzz on her pubic bone her only body hair, her outer lips modestly closed, but still flushed rosy-pink, swollen and glistening with desire. Behind her, her glorious wings were half-spread, their neatly-groomed feathers so bright white they almost seemed to glow.
Erik, still on his knees in the seemingly endless field of flowers, could only stare up at her body with blatant awe. She was… divine. That was only word that could possibly describe her. There was a moment of silence as his gaze drank in her beauty, marvelling at every inch of her like he was studying a work of art. Mirabel smiled, softly. “You can do more than just look, you know. Touch me.” She urged, her musical voice taking on a sultry quality.
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
Mirabel stood there, nude. She was a vision of angelic perfection, literally and figuratively. Her smooth, pale skin was devoid of even the smallest of blemishes, her face was soft and kind, her cheeks bearing a rosy flush, her full lips naturally pink, her features framed by long, wavy golden hair and lit by the golden glow of the halo hovering just inches over her head. Her body was equally divine, an hourglass figure, curves that even the most beautiful of mortal women would envy, but not so exaggerated they looked unnatural. Her breasts were perfect, supple mounds the size of oranges that sat proudly on her chest, riding high without the slightest hint of sag, with the unmistakable shape and softness of natural breasts. Her silhouette tapered in at the waist, her stomach smooth and flat, with just the faintest hint of healthy tone beneath it, then flared out into generous, rounded hips that in turn tapered down to shapely thighs, the perfect blend of firm muscle and soft flesh. Between those thighs laid the promised land, her womanhood, a small patch of golden cotton candy fuzz on her pubic bone her only body hair, her outer lips modestly closed, but still flushed rosy-pink, swollen and glistening with desire. Behind her, her glorious wings were half-spread, their neatly-groomed feathers so bright white they almost seemed to glow.
Erik, still on his knees in the seemingly endless field of flowers, could only stare up at her body with blatant awe. She was… divine. That was only word that could possibly describe her. There was a moment of silence as his gaze drank in her beauty, marvelling at every inch of her like he was studying a work of art. Mirabel smiled, softly. “You can do more than just look, you know. Touch me.” She urged, her musical voice taking on a sultry quality.
[Musing] The Pillar of Glory
[pre-story]Another musing! So, odd origin story for this idea. I was having a discussion about what sort of materials a fantasy sex toy would be made of, and then somebody mentioned dragon bone, and then I made a pun, and then I started to really think about it and ideas started forming... So, I have three fantasy sex toy ideas to write about now, and this is the first.
On the actual execution of the idea... I'm not proud of this one, I admit. Mistakes were made. If I hadn't fallen so in love with the idea of starting with the dance, I probably could have started with her being led down into the pyramid and finished this thing in one part. But then I got here, and I'm already behind schedule and adding a sex scene would be another thousand words at least and rewriting it would take even longer... I am definitely going to learn from this in the future, but for now, have part one.
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
Papan bit her lip nervously as the stood at the foot of the towering staircase leading up to the peak of the tiered pyramid of Xochikama, fingers gripping tight at the edges of the shroud draped over her shoulders, holding it tightly closed. The fabric was itchy on her skin, and she was soaked in sweat, but it was the only thing shielding her body from the gaze of the gathered crowd. Elder Sister Nenetl laid a hand on her shroud-covered shoulder, and she jolted, head whipping around to look. The elder sister smiled, reassuringly. “Remember, you aren’t performing for them. You’re performing for HIM.” She reminded, looking toward the peak of the pyramid.
Papan smiled back, weakly. “Thank you, elder sister…” she replied, then turned her gaze to the chamber at the peak of the pyramid once more. She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “I- I’m ready.” She declared.
On the actual execution of the idea... I'm not proud of this one, I admit. Mistakes were made. If I hadn't fallen so in love with the idea of starting with the dance, I probably could have started with her being led down into the pyramid and finished this thing in one part. But then I got here, and I'm already behind schedule and adding a sex scene would be another thousand words at least and rewriting it would take even longer... I am definitely going to learn from this in the future, but for now, have part one.
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
Papan bit her lip nervously as the stood at the foot of the towering staircase leading up to the peak of the tiered pyramid of Xochikama, fingers gripping tight at the edges of the shroud draped over her shoulders, holding it tightly closed. The fabric was itchy on her skin, and she was soaked in sweat, but it was the only thing shielding her body from the gaze of the gathered crowd. Elder Sister Nenetl laid a hand on her shroud-covered shoulder, and she jolted, head whipping around to look. The elder sister smiled, reassuringly. “Remember, you aren’t performing for them. You’re performing for HIM.” She reminded, looking toward the peak of the pyramid.
Papan smiled back, weakly. “Thank you, elder sister…” she replied, then turned her gaze to the chamber at the peak of the pyramid once more. She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “I- I’m ready.” She declared.
[Musing] Onigokko
[pre-story]I almost did it again, that thing where a musing turns into full chapter. This idea's been rattling around in my head for a while, a wild, amazonian woman who turns out to be a tsundere, and an oni seemed like a good choice, to go with the tsundere theme. Also, Onigokko is the japanese word for 'tag', and I like puns. I was kinda expecting this to be something light and cute and kinda funny, but it got a little unexpectedly heavy and emotional toward the end. Probably not enough focus on the sex, honestly... But writing emotional stuff is always kinda exhausting... I was also planning to end it with an epilogue of Hiroshi returning home and telling his parents he's alive, then introducing them to Akane and letting them know they're getting married, but I was already way over my word-goal. Anyways, enough rambling, enjoy!
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
“Oi! Wimp!” The demon’s booming voice heralded her arrival and stirred Hiroshi from his thoughts. He looked over to the tiger skin hanging in the entrance of the cave just in time to see it thrown aside with a sweep of a bright red arm. “I got dinner!” Akane announced proudly as she stepped inside, thrusting her other arm forward, proudly holding out the corpse of a wild boar, its back legs gripped tightly in her fist, the fresh kill still dripping blood.
Akane was everything one expected in an oni. Almost twice his height, with blood-red skin, a long mane of stark white hair, and short, curved horns jutting from her forehead. Her eyes were bright red, to match her skin, and her broad, beaming grin bared a mouthful of sharp teeth, with extra-long fangs and tusks at the corners. She was barely dressed, a strip of tigerskin tied around her chest to match the loincloth dangling between her thighs. Her body was covered in rugged muscle and dotted with scars, lines of slightly paler red on her otherwise smooth skin. When he’d first arrived, she’d been much worse. She refused to wear a top, she wouldn’t bathe, so she was always covered in dirt, and her hair had been a wild, matted, tangled mess. But over the last months, he’d managed to convince her to wash, to cover herself, and she even let him brush her hair (which was quite a process, especially the first time, as her hair was almost as long as he was tall).
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]
“Oi! Wimp!” The demon’s booming voice heralded her arrival and stirred Hiroshi from his thoughts. He looked over to the tiger skin hanging in the entrance of the cave just in time to see it thrown aside with a sweep of a bright red arm. “I got dinner!” Akane announced proudly as she stepped inside, thrusting her other arm forward, proudly holding out the corpse of a wild boar, its back legs gripped tightly in her fist, the fresh kill still dripping blood.
Akane was everything one expected in an oni. Almost twice his height, with blood-red skin, a long mane of stark white hair, and short, curved horns jutting from her forehead. Her eyes were bright red, to match her skin, and her broad, beaming grin bared a mouthful of sharp teeth, with extra-long fangs and tusks at the corners. She was barely dressed, a strip of tigerskin tied around her chest to match the loincloth dangling between her thighs. Her body was covered in rugged muscle and dotted with scars, lines of slightly paler red on her otherwise smooth skin. When he’d first arrived, she’d been much worse. She refused to wear a top, she wouldn’t bathe, so she was always covered in dirt, and her hair had been a wild, matted, tangled mess. But over the last months, he’d managed to convince her to wash, to cover herself, and she even let him brush her hair (which was quite a process, especially the first time, as her hair was almost as long as he was tall).
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