sleep deprived

fox hybrid who’ll tease the hell out of you just because

fox hybrid who’ll seek your attention when he’s bored but if it’s you who’s bored he’s probably hide from you to see your reaction

fox hybrid who’ll stare menacingly at any person who makes you uncomfortable or hits on you

fox hybrid who’ll never let others tease you, because it’s only for him

fox hybrid who’ll prank you but with a standard of you not getting harmed or actually hurt

fox hybrid who’ll call you all sorts of silly and/or cute names just to see your blush or annoying expression

fox hybrid who’ll tell you lies that sound like true facts and will laugh when you figure out the truth

fox hybrid who loves to bite you, because you’re “tasty” and his

fox hybrid who’ll take candid pictures of you and they’re not pretty

fox hybrid who’ll make you wait for him, leaving you with a vibrator on while he’s away

fox hybrid who’ll overstimulate you by fucking you senseless without even a break or by edging you every time you’d want to come

fox hybrid who’ll punish you for touching yourself

fox hybrid who’ll make you pick up your phone if it rings in the middle of the sex

fox hybrid who’ll make you beg for him to use his cock and not fingers

fox hybrid who’ll tease you by not sinking in your hole from the first try and saying it’s because you’re too wet

fox hybrid who’ll dirty talk to you during whole sex

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

As, oh dear, her Empress and Emperor were such a lovely couple! Married just a few months ago, but it seemed as Emperor had been wrapped around his lady's sweet finger, following her dear step by step. Such a raw and passionate man he was, tormented by his wife, with or without her by his side, as even with her, he acted as a man tortured. And you, a sweet rose of France, loved him dearly, but took quite a pleasure in making your husband walk by your ankle like a dog. Because the gentleman who soon would control the whole of Europe had just one little weakness – you.

"My Empress, should you write back?" she asked politely, with her head dipped, glancing at your fingers clenched on the paper.

"He's in Italy, isn't he? How often must my husband write, for me to get letters almost every single day," you wondered out loud, already thinking about the one you'll get tomorrow.

All of them were sweet and dear, quite bold even, but always needy. You remembered the one from yesterday, and your cheeks suddenly flushed like cherries.

My love, I've received your two letters, but why so few? Are there days when you don't write to me? Oh my darling, your letters are the joy of my days and the blaze of my nights. Leave a little kiss for me next time, so I can see your sweet lips again! I'm hopeless and sorrowful without you. Since I left, my mind has been nothing but depressed. Join me soon in Italy, you'll love it here, my love. I'll buy you dresses and jewellery, build a mansion in Venice if you wish for it, but please come by and let us enjoy this time together. I miss you dearly, and we shall reunite soon. A kiss on your heart, and one much lower down, much lower! Forever yours, Satoru

Oh, how foul he was, but such passionate too, and you could almost feel his lips fondling your thighs and breasts. He was obsessed indeed, and you have wondered whether your husband was in good health, as no man should be that possessed by madness!

You didn't write every day, but should you? In fact, you liked him a bit frenzied, sore, begging for your attention. You replied to him once, just after his first letter, and it seemed he held onto it dearly, waiting desperately for the next one.

But it wasn't coming! And he was sour about that.

Thus, after not replying to him for a month, it seemed that the Emperor himself got quite mad!

My love, I write to you every day. Sometimes twice! Yet I see no letters of yours, do you still love me? I don't love you; on the contrary, I detest you! A cruel witch you are, unkind to your poor husband. What are you doing in those days when not thinking of me? Where does your heart go if not towards your husband? My love, do you enjoy tormenting me that much? Forever yours, Satoru

And upon reading it with a sly smile, you decided to answer his begging.

My husband, I would answer you sooner, but each time I begin, another letter arrives! You write as if the world ends, but it's been only three months. I adore your passion, but heavens, you are exhausting! Do you love to suffer, my dear? You're writing as if I deceived you! Stop sulking and come home soon.

Oh, how angry he was! For there was no trace of your lips nor smell of your sweetness, and your words he awaited were washed of any fondness. How cruel of you!

My darling, the day when you say "I love you less" will be the end of my life. My love for you is saddened, my heart enslaved, and my mind frightens me... will you ever stop loving me? I cannot go a day without loving you; I cannot even drink my tea without you tormenting my thoughts. Oh my darling, if your love will extinct, I'll throw myself under the guillotine! Why must you be so mean to me? Shall I end my life for you to cherish me a bit more?! Forever yours, Satoru

And as much as you loved to torture him, something panged in your chest upon imagining your poor husband maddened by the playfulness of yours.

So this time you've decided to write him a hearty one, with a cherry kiss left at the end, fragrance of your favourite perfumes sprinkled on creamy paper.

Your maid took it for delivery, and you waited impatiently for the next response from a man who would trade whole Europe just for the single glance of your lovely eyes!

But, surprisingly, you didn't receive any letter the next day, and another one too, thus a little frown has formed between your eyebrows, and your maid has been seeing you waiting by the window every single day. She hated to see her lovely Empress in such mania, with those sweet, pushed lips and arms crossed on her dear chest, as she walked back and forth in the rose garden.

Oh, how strange it was to not read his pouty tears daily! Was he dead indeed?

Your eyes were thus awaiting a delivery desperately, everyone in the palace on tenterhooks, seeing their young Empress so impatient!

Days were going by – two, four, six. Over two weeks passed, and then three, with no letter coming in, and the loveliest French rose withering slowly in the sweet gardens of her mansion. You walked all days sourly, with nothing to cheer you up. Even the company of your favourite ladies turned out to be poor, for a certain sadness always dripped from your gentle voice.

And then, after a month of torment, it finally came. Not just one letter, but two!

Your maid ran towards the garden hectically, with sweat dripping down her temple and eyes filled with cheerfulness. "My Empress," she screamed over the rose bushes. "My Empress, it's here!"

And your head sprang up, hips lifted from the bench, book long forgotten, as you took the letters from her trembling hands.

The first words written by your husband left you speechless.

My love, the coldness of your heart has melted, and nothing affected me more than your last letter. I shall accuse you of witchery, as my soul has been possessed solely by thoughts of you! The kiss of your lips I put to mine and wondered what it would be like to feel the softness of your skin. My love, oh my love! I cannot live like that any longer. I carry your portrait over my heart and imagine it beating together with yours. The letters take so long to deliver, and I'm getting older each day. What if I die on a battlefield without ever tasting you again? My poor heart, oh, my love, I yearn to kiss you once again and taste that sweetness on my tongue. My madness is strangling me, passion burns my soul, for I'm dying to be by your side! Forever yours, Satoru

You coughed, cheeks burning feverishly till your maid asked, "My Empress, do you feel alright?" and you could best give her a nod, for the muscles of your throat clamped tight in embarrassment.

You've heard that your husband carries your portrait, as he said nothing has brought him more luck than having you by his side. A true lucky charm, as he loved to remark, with fondling your skin gently and leaving sweet traces upon your thighs.

You tucked the paper and opened the second letter. But, well, how shocked you were – you and the maid standing right over your shoulder – upon seeing just a single sentence! But as you read it, a sudden tremor moved your heart, and sweat dribbled down your neck.

Home in three days, do not wash! Forever yours, Satoru

"Oh," you could only mutter, mind blank, eyes staring at the pinkish roses of your garden.

And then it suddenly hit.

"My Empress," your maid started, rubbing her fingers nervously. As she also saw the date written on the letter, and if she counted correctly, the Emperor should be–

"It's today," you mumbled quietly, as if to yourself. But your head moved her way, eyes bulging. "Shall he arrive tod–"

You didn't manage to finish it, however, as a sudden commotion in the mansion made you rise from the bench and walk frenzily through the rose bushes. The screams and horses, the agitation that could only accompany the arrival of one man.

Your husband!

The long garments moved together with the fast pace of your feet, breasts sitting plumply in a long, pinkish dress as it slouched off your shoulder slightly, not prissy at all, but rather vulgar for other men to see. Your hair pinned up, brows cressing gently as you walked inside the mansion, straight to the front gate.

But, couldn't you get to the main door as it opened suddenly, and no one but your maddened husband walked inside.

He stood tall, with broad shoulders, still dressed in his blue jacket with gold buttons and light trousers that hugged his legs loosely. The snowishness of his hair blinded you and (almost) weeping eyes looked your way as if lost in agony, with nothing but love lifting up the corners of his lips.

"My love," he grumbled with a strangled voice and opened arms. "I have been waiting for our reunion too long!"

You laughed cheekily, walking towards your husband at an unhurried pace. Arms wrapped around his neck gently, fingers playing with soft strands of his wet hair, as if he was running your way all day and all night, with nothing but sweat dripping down his spine. "My dear, why so early? Shouldn't you leave Italy in a month?"

His muscular arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest.

Oh, how you enjoyed the look of those crystal eyes, so open and truthful, burning with passion that was clearly eating him alive!

"I couldn't wait," he said, taking your hand and leading you quickly through the corridors of your mansion. "You're such a vile woman! Cruel, wicked, playing with your poor husband's heart like a child," he looked over his shoulder, a bit of playfulness shining in his eye as you giggled softly. You knew the route of the corridor, leading straight to your chamber. "There's nothing to laugh about, my love! I'll show you how much I longed for your touch."

And maybe he was right. You shouldn't laugh, indeed.

℘℘℘

He pushed you on bed the moment the heavy doors of your room closed behind, and almost ripped the undergarments off your drenched legs. His knees hit the floor as you opened your thighs, smooth and drenched, showing the sweetest, the juiciest meal he could ever dream of.

You glanced at him with this cheeky smile dancing on your plump lips and wicked eyes, knowing the impact you had on him. He was nothing more than a tormented man!

You watched him while leaning on your elbows – eyes following snowish hair reaching down, fingers pushing the dress up till your hips, trembling at the sheer thought of finally tasting the sweetness of your pussy after months of nothing but releasing himself to your picture.

He seated you right at the edge of the royal bed, with velvet skin blushing feverishly under his raw kisses and long fingers digging hard into the plush of your thighs.

"M-my Emperor," a pitched moan pushed through your lips, as you tilted your head back. Soft linen of your bedding dipped under your sprawled body, thighs opened wide, skin melting under his lips on the inner thighs. Wet lips going down down down, from the bend of your knee right till the drenched mound.

"Oh my kitty, how I've missed you," he mumbled, as if already drunk, lost, with his head diving deep into the rolls of your cunt, giving it a heavy and nasty smell. "My sweet pussy, mhmmm, I've dreamed about you every night."

"My Emperor, please stop calling her like that. You're so filthy," your strangled voice tried to scold him, but Gojo Satoru, the soon-to-be most powerful man in the whole continent, was deaf to your pleadings.

For there was nothing he dreamed of more than getting drunk on the honeyed saps of his pussy and the plushness of your thighs around his cheeks.

And the moment his tongue finally landed between your folds– SNAP!

The rest of his sanity finally cracked, and a long growl drove through his lips, going straight into your fluttering cunt. You pushed white strands sticking to his forehead, watching the gentle furrow between his handsome brows, eyes closed, tongue working you out – slurping, licking, pushing every nerve of your wet cunt. He pushed a finger in, scooping out more of your creamy cum, tasting you as if he came back starved, with juices dripping down his chin and tongue put flat to your clit.

"My Emperor, aren't you just desperate? Didn't they feed you there?" you giggled, rolling your hips together with a pace of his tongue, riding his face in a fever. "A-ah, slow down a bit, I'm not running anywhere!"

"Ngh, I told you not to wash–mmmmm, I love the smell of your sweat," he mumbled, already giving you a headache. Nasty, nasty man! "My sweet kitty, m-my pussy, thought about you every night, every day, nothing but thought of tasting you again, giving me a strength to fight– nghhh–"

"My Emperor, please, enough!" you cried, hips rolling up and down, thighs trembling as his second finger pushed inside. He caressed your clit with his tongue, smoochering it with kisses, sucking it wetly till his cheeks sucked in.

He growled again, tremors going straight into your cunt, the pads of his fingers finally finding the plush spot that made your toes curl.

"Oh my love, do you feel good? Does my Empress feel good? You're so sweet, god you taste so delicious." his muscular arm landed on your lower belly, pulling you closer to his warm breath. "She missed me so much, sucking my fingers in so desperately. My Empress, you may detest your husband, but she will never betray me!"

Your head lulled back, eyes crossed, when he sucked on your clit again, massaging the plush spot inside with his fingers. His fat fingers already filled you well, as your walls clamped on them tight, flapping everytime he bent them to that spot. Oh, he knew this was your favourite combo, making droplets of sweat form around your temple and thighs tremble in excitement, as you tried to lock them around his head.

"My dear, just s-shut up and m-make me cum," your voice was of the purest melody, tickling his ears with passion and lust, making his heavy cock leak through the pants even more, as he tried to release himself by rubbing against the bed's wooden leg.

The look on his face was enough to feel a sudden warmth in your belly. He looked absolutely defeated, lost like a child, with beefy arms hugging your thighs, pulling you closer and closer, till the hilt of his nose brushed your clit. His lips devouring you with slurpy noises, pure filth pushing through them every time he had a chance to open his mouth – wish I could lick your creamy cunt before every meal, and, I could fight a thousand wars if it meant to have her as my prize, or, next time don't wash for a week, no, two weeks, I wish to taste the purest flavour of my pussy.

You reprimanded him every time, with your syrupy moans and scoldings making him even harder, but at some point, even your throat gave up. You just couldn't win against him, and this tongue stuck to your cunt flat, working on your trembling clit till you finally, finally, felt the warmth spilling out.

Your back arched deliciously, thighs clamped around his head, fingers dug deep into his scalp, and you cried for the one last time. The pleasure was blinding, and even your pleadings couldn't stop your husband from drinking allll the juices dripping straight down his throat, with a quiet thank you thank you thank you, murmured straight to your hole. His throat bobbed, fingers trembled, as a moment later, a wet patch formed on his trousers.

His cheeks were wet, but it didn't stop him from rubbing them against your inner thighs, feeling the softness of your skin on his. You were ready to believe that his mind was possessed indeed, as his eyes looked almost like two little hearts, looking at you with a burning lust.

"My Empress, my love, oh how I love you," he climbed the bed, and you moved slightly back. Only then have you noticed the wetness on his trousers, so filthy and embarrassing, nevertheless warming you up once again.

How pathetic your husband was, truly miserable, with his lips smooching the curve of your breast gently, fingers working the dress out, almost ripping it off your body.

"My dear, aren't you tired? We have all night, you mustn't be so reckless–"

"I mustn't," he mumbled, fingers already scooping up your plump tits, rough pads fidling with hardened nipples. "But I must finally make an heir. That's what I've been thinking about for the past few months, my love" his crystal eyes glanced up, seeing a little tremble of your lips and quickened breath. Oh, how obsessed he was with his lovely Empress! "Do you not wish to bear my child? To have my seed, riiiight here," his lips travelled down, till he placed a gentle kiss on your belly's pouch. Finger digging deep, one hand hooking behind your thigh. "Say it, my love."

His voice was stern, but nevertheless begging, waiting for your answer. You liked to torment your husband indeed, but this time, under his heavy gaze and muscular arms, broad back bulging under his jacket and messy snowish hair, you could do nothing but nod you head.

He smirked, eyes curving like a moon, as he folded you easily like a paper doll.

"Ever heard of mating press, my love?"

You can read Napoleon's letters here and here!

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In fact, he could already sense it, see it. The rocky edges of the small isle. Sharp and shimmering under the pale moonlight, lighted solely by its cold beams and lightnings slashing the enraged sky.

He could see the foam swelling near the ship, with pearly scales appearing here and there, coating the full length of heavy tails.

He could hear the melody, carried by the storm, right towards their ship. Like birds chirping, the glazed sweetness that warmed the shivering hearts of sailors and lulled them into the clutches of deadly creatures.

Choso has never met the sirens, although he had seen them.

The enchanting, nymph-like beings frolic near the seaside, giggling and singing softly as they bathed on the warm rocks. Their skin always shimmered like gold under the warm rays of sunshine, reflecting off the crystal droplets coating their bodies.

The creatures of utmost beauty and lethal nature. Nightmares of every passing ship. One of the few divinities a mortal could actually meet, yet everyone who tried to ogle them from the dense forest, lurking at their gleaming bodies dipping into the sea, would surely end up dead.

But not Choso.

He, somehow, as a simple sailor with only a few foolish things to his name, managed to get close to those mysterious beings. Close enough to smell their skin – the scent of a sweet ocean breeze and sweat, as they soaked in the sun all day. To hear their lovely hums without going absolutely mad, and to cherish them while watching from behind the massive boulders. Big enough to cover his body completely and let him hold dear this special moment.

As myths and legends of forbidden love always go, there was one most enchanting siren, whom the poor sailor couldn't keep his eyes off.

The one, whose tail shimmered the brightest, covered in lovely pinkish scales woven with golden thread. With skin soft as flowery petals, although he never touched it with his own, calloused fingers. With a voice so lovely it lulled him to sleep, whenever he came to the seaside on late, late nights.

When nothing but the gentle waves and low hum of crickets filled the humid air.

He could be more daring. Braver, lurking behind the boulder with his gaze fixed on your body spread out on the sand and the turtles sleeping peacefully near your tail. Cherish the longing melody directed at the moon, as you sang it loudly and clearly, filling Choso's ears with the sweetest ambrosia.

Nights like this were always his favourite. Making his heart swell with a certain pride, as if he were a chosen one. The only one who could hold you dearly in his own, foolish way – never making a step, never saying a word.

But it was enough. He simply didn't need more.

And you… You seemed not to care about him at all.

Even if you sensed his presence, it seemed that this foolish sailor boy was of no danger or harm. As long as he was simply there, lurking from between the trees without sticky hands trying to grab you or your sisters, there was no need to kill him.

And thus, simply because of it, Choso started believing that the heavens had blessed him. Allowed to be the only mortal who could get close to such deadly and mysterious creatures as the daughters of the sea.

But then the storm came as he and his crew crossed the Aegean Sea and aimed for Athens. The journey was long and tricky, yet they finished it time and time again, always without a sweat and with goods delivered on time.

None of them expected the sudden hurricane, which raised the crystal waves to meters high and swelled beneath their ship. But even this would be manageable. At some point, the waters would calm down, and Choso with his crew would find their way to the shore.

Now, however, with the devilish melody slipping warmly into his men's minds, Choso knew that it was over. For the sirens' voice was more treacherous than Poseidon's wrath. A spell of the most unkind sort, luring the foolish man into their warm, open arms, only to sink their teeth deep into the flesh.

With fifty men on the ship, there was no chance for Choso to save everyone. Nevertheless, he needed to try.

"Close your ears," his shout tried to rip itself through the eruption of clashing waves. "The sirens are here, close your ears! Don't listen to them!"

His men started to panic, with low, frightened tremblings filling the drenched deck.

"Sirens? How is it possible?"

"Dear Gods, save us!"

"What Gods? No one will help us! That's it, we're done here!"

The terror grew as the haunting melody sharpened and became more distinct, as if a dozen or so sirens circled the ship. Choso stood on the deck, watching the shimmering tails and wet heads slipping from the tall waves. One more lovely than another, with long, flapping tails and warm eyes fixed on their prey.

With his hands covering ears, he couldn't hear much, and yet the sight of pearly smiles and soft arms stretched towards them was enough to feel the urge to jump right into their loving clutches. To feel the sweetness of their kisses on his cheeks, delicate fingers wrapping around his neck with the utmost fondness, till at last sharp teeth would dig into his body and take it deep under the sea.

As the ship drew nearer to the stony island, he finally realised that the helmsman, immersed in the melody, was completely lost. With both hands on the wooden wheel and a foggy gaze, he had no thoughts, steering the vessel directly toward the sirens' isle.

"No," Choso gasped, running towards the wheel. "No, fuck, wake up!" he screamed and screamed, but nothing could mute the sirens' sweet voices.

The melodic come to me, sweetheart, and, I'll treat you well, darling, or, come closer, fill me with your love. Sometimes it would be only the singing, sweet and treacherous, with a maddening power to possess the men's simple minds.

Choso shoved the helmsman aside and hurried to cover his ears.

He looked around and saw utter chaos. A few men took cover in the wet corners of the ship, clutching their heads and praying fervently. Others jumped off the deck, heading straight for the siren's open arms, foolishly lured by the sweet and tempting promises they had convinced themselves of.

The bodies fell one by one, and soon a wave of screams rose from the pearly foam, as the crystal waters turned crimson. Sirens' strong hands sank the sailors, only to rise to the surface again and wait for another fool.

The helmsman curled under the wheel as Choso took over the steering.

And that was his biggest mistake.

As he took his hands off his ears, all the melodic whispers and giggles suddenly reached him. Loud and clear, one voice sweeter than the other, choking him with an overwhelming power until breathing alone became too difficult. A warmth spread all over his chest, as if the sole sensuality of the voices made his heart beat faster and his skin coat in sweat. The heat hit his cheeks, fever broke, but it wasn't caused by sickness, no.

But by all the devilish oaths, hitting him like an aphrodisiac and pulling towards the ship's edge. He tried to fight the filthy warmth filling his body. The need to jump overboard and nuzzle into the sirens' warm, plush skin.

He gripped the wheel tighter, trying to get the ship away from the stony island. The storm was ravaging the vessel, and yet it seemed that the brutal wind finally started to bend under his pleas. He rolled the wheel, and rolled, and rolled, till the massive, wooden structure slowly turned back towards the open sea.

Men were jumping one after another, and he estimated that half of the crew was already dead. Sirens circled the ship tighter, voices even-pitched, sweeter, making him tremble from the overwhelming heat.

But he was strong, Choso had believed. He could fight them, as no woman was able to make him mad enough to force him to jump overboard. Saving his life was far more crucial than those few, mere seconds of pleasure spent in sirens' arms.

With fingers clutching the wheel and the storm still fierce, he steered the ship away from the island into the endless sea. Pale moonlight struggled to pierce the thick clouds overhead, while ghostly lightning forked across the sky, illuminating his rain-slicked face.

He screamed to his men, telling them to hang in there, to stay calm, hoping that a few of them who still nuzzled into the dark corners of the ship wouldn't go absolutely mad. Sirens sang louder, and Choso thought with nail and tooth to keep his mind clear. But the lustful fever was making him weak, melting his body into a trembling mess, until he needed to grip the wheel tighter to keep from falling.

And then…

Then the catastrophe came.

"Sailor boy," whirled in the air, reaching his ears. His body suddenly froze, eyes widened. "Sailor boy, come here."

The voice was distinct from the others – sweeter, kinder, with a silky undertone that pierced straight to his heart.

"Sailor boy, I know you're there," a melody rumbled through his body once again, forcing Choso to let go of the wheel.

Driven by madness, he slowly moved down the deck, sneakily gliding over the ship's edge. The dark, infinite sea stretched out before him, with pearly waves crashing against each other. Among other lurking sirens, with giggles and claws poised to seize his lustful body – there was you.

Calm and beautiful, with wet hair curling around your cheeks and slightly lidded eyes looking up at him. Water dripped down your shell-covered breasts, and moonlight bounced off the wet skin.

Your gaze carried a kind of grace – patient, almost trusting. And the longer Choso kept looking at you, the more he leaned further forward. Raven hair sticking to his damp neck, lips fallen open, as he tried to fight the heat bubbling in his loins.

"My sailor boy," you chirped, spreading your arms open. Towards the sky, him, with a lovely smile and a little tilt of your head. "Come to me, sailor boy. I know you wish to."

His fingers gripped the wooden side tighter. Till knuckles went white, and breath slipped with a shudder. Wind smacked his cheeks, rain filled the fallen lips as he still, with trembling eyes and body bent in half, looked at your waiting arms.

He wondered how soft your skin would be and what you would taste like if he tried to caress your lips with his. How far underwater would you take him before choking him to death and leaving his body behind, just like you did with all the other men?

Would you devour him right away, or perhaps cherish every piece of his muscular body, which he was ready to offer you on a plate?

Or maybe, just maybe, with gentle fingers, you would first trace his cheeks, gazing deeply into the warm chestnut of his eyes as if meeting a lover’s stare. Run your fingers through his hair and softly press your lips to his, patiently awaiting his response – longing for him to deepen the kiss with the desire of one tempted by forbidden fruit, mindful of the inevitable consequences.

The rest of the crew watched him in fright, yet no one dared to step any closer to the edge. For the captain seemed to fight something none of them could help him with. Something so deeply etched into his chest that he could only grip the deck tighter and lean on the line between life and death.

But then your arms opened even wider, lips curled mischievously, gaze flickered. "My sailor boy, my dearest," the voice suddenly became lower, with the sensual cheekiness swirling in his mind. "Come to me. Let me love you."

Amidst the frightened screams of the crew and the wind whipping his cheeks with sharp, rainy gusts, Choso jumped.

Into the arms of a woman who suddenly turned him into a madman.

𖦹 𖦹 𖦹

He woke up with a sudden realisation that he could still breathe. His body didn't hurt as much as he thought it would after being devoured by a siren, and solely a light pain pulsed on his face.

He raised hand, touching the long, bloody slash marking his nose and cheeks. An ache flickered under his fingers, leaving the crimson, still slightly wet liquid on soft pads.

Moonlight slipped sheepishly through the small opening above, and only then did he realise he had been dragged into the cave. The sand beneath his body was still wet, soaked by the clothes that had weighed him down. He clearly remembered the moment his body touched the cold sea, sinking quickly before a pair of gentle arms pulled him back to the surface.

But the rest of his memory faded, and the bloody mark on his nose was likely caused by a severe blow to his head.

It pulsed a bit, but he was too excited by the thought of still being alive to care about such a minor issue.

He gradually sat up, glancing around the small cave by the seaside. Gentle waves quietly lapped inside, flowing over the golden sand and touching his bare feet. The moonlight glinted brightly in the clear, dark sky, and the warm night air caressed his flushed cheeks. It appeared that, in the end, he wasn't on the rocky siren island, and a breath of relief escaped his lips.

A relief mixed with panic.

Because you weren't here.

He once again looked around, noticing how shallow the cave was. The back wall, covered in slimy seaweed, shimmered under the moonlight, carrying the salty, slightly rotten smell of fish. But nowhere in the cave could he spot the familiar pinkish scales.

"Looking for me, sailor boy?"

His head snapped back towards the entrance.

And there you were – smiling slyly, wet hair cascading down your back, head tilted slightly. You lay on your belly, resting chin on your palm, with long tail swaying back and forth, droplets of crystal-clear water dripping from the soft scales.

A sweet giggle bounced off the stony walls as you looked at Choso's lips fallen open. "Why? Aren't you happy to see me?"

His throat bobbed, fingers gripped the wet sand. "N-No, it's just…"

Too distracted, he struggled to carve into his mind every small detail of your face. His gaze fixated on your lovely eyes, veiled by a gentle fog, where the irises and whites blurred together, almost resembling a spectre. He noticed the gentle curve of your lips and cheeks, which held a slight warmth. Your ears, bent into an eerie shape, slightly pointed and much thinner, added a little uncanny look to your lovely face.

And yet, his breath hitched, and something heavy bubbled beneath the chest. "Why didn't you kill me?"

A sweet hum filled the wet cave, broken only by waves clashing gently against your splayed body. "Would you prefer that, sailor boy?"

"No, i-it's just…" Choso desperately searched for words, but his mind was still as if under the influence of your bewitching spell. "Thank you." That's all he could say, trembling under the heavy gaze of yours.

Lying in front of his seated form, your finger brushed his calf. "It's too early to thank me. You still don't know why I decided to keep you alive."

Heavy muscles bulged under the milky, slightly damp skin, curling around his thick calves and up to beefy thighs. A giggle slipped past your lips as you saw another bulge straining his woollen tunic. With a wetness padding the cloth, trembling slightly whenever your nail marked his skin.

Your fingers travelled up, up, skimming the calves, knees, and thighs, as he slowly spread them open. Chestnut eyes followed your gradually approaching body, crawling closer towards him. Heavy tail dragged on the soft sand as you slowly slipped out of the water.

Leaning on his arm, he gripped the sand harder, ogling carefully the mischievous loveliness twisting your lips.

"Ask me," you whispered, nuzzling into his thigh. Fingers slipped under the woollen cloth, pinching the soft skin. "Ask me why I saved you."

"Why d-did you save me?" he could barely breathe, feeling your digits dangerously too close to his leaking cock.

And then, he felt it. Your thumb pressing onto the wet head, teeth biting gently into the inside of his thigh. A cry rolled out of his lips, little grains of sand dug painfully into his palms.

"I think you're cute," slipped in a giggle, as you licked the bitten skin sweetly. He whimpered lowly, and you noticed crystal droplets swirling in his eyes. "And I need something from you."

But before Choso could ask what, your head slipped under his woollen robes. And then, something in his mind exploded. Sudden pleasure washed over his spine as your lips curled around his cock with a lovely hum, fingers squeezing the pulsing base.

"W-Wait– Ahhh!" his hand landed on your head, but he somehow couldn't bring himself to push you away. Instead, he brushed your hair away, letting himself take a closer, better look at your lovely face.

There was something utterly filthy in the way your pointy ears shivered every time another moan slipped past his lips. How your scales seemed to glow even lighter when his fingers skimmed through your neck, thumb brushing the warm cheek bulging with his feverish head.

You drank the pearly cum swirling on the tip of his cock with a hum before taking him in deeper. Till he could feel the end of your warm throat and muscles tightening around the fat shaft. Delicate fingers played with his balls, and a sudden cry ripped past his lips when you gave them a soft squeeze.

"M-my Goddess–" this time, he tried to push you away, feeling the dangerous heat once again coiling in his loins. "I c-can't, it's too–mhmmm–"

A sudden embarrassment hit his flushed cheeks at the thought of coming that fast. Needing nothing but a single luscious glance of yours and lips locking on his cock. Your head bobbed in frenzied movements, with low hums going straight into his pulsing cock and sending a wave of trembling pleasure down his spine. Nose tickled his pubes, saliva dripping down the veiny shaft, drenched in the honeyed sweetness of your mouth.

Pulling out with a soft pop, your gaze locked with his. "I'm not a Goddess, sailor boy," Choso wished to disagree, but your lips crashed against his. In a quick yet messy kiss, as you bit his lower lip, leaving him with a metallic sweetness and the musky smell of his cock. "But for now, call me whatever you want. As long as you'll give me this," your fingers once again squeezed his tightening balls.

Choso felt dumbfounded, madly besotted, with heart-shaped irises fixed on your face and lips slightly parted. "You want…" he barely pushed, not quite sure whether you were thinking the same thing.

But you nodded gently, giving his cock another squeeze. The flushed head was seconds away from busting, and you could see the milky trace of sticky cum coat the hardened tip.

"Give me a baby," slipped smoothly like a dream, causing Choso to blush deeply. Your hands curled behind his neck, then you pulled him closer, drawing him nearer as you slowly reclined, shifting your positions. "You're such a pretty, pretty boy," your warm thumb brushed his rosy cheek. "Can you do it for me? Do you want to make me pregnant, sailor boy?"

And Choso, with your tail between his thighs and your lovely little head splayed between his hands digging deep into the sand, could do nothing but nod. Slowly, with heat ripping through his body from the inside, and his heart suddenly skipping a few beats.

"Y-yes," he whispered softly, as you pushed behind the ear raven strands of his hair. A gentle sweetness shone in his eyes, melting your heart with its pure and innocent glow. His feelings were so pristine, as he desperately tried to hide this charming bashfulness behind an awkward demeanour. "If you allow me, my Goddess, I do want to–" his throat bobbed, another wave of embarrassment washing over his virgin body. He simply couldn't force himself to admit such a filthy thing!

You giggled, pulling him closer. Till your lips brushed gently and eyes met in a lustful crossing. "Then get to work, my sailor boy. Show me what you got."

Before Choso could ask, flustered, how this was supposed to work, you swiftly lifted your tail, putting the lower half of heavy, pinkish scales on his shoulder. Your hand curled around his, slowly, slowly, guiding it towards the swell of your ass. And then slightly down, through the hard scales covering your whole lower body. Choso tried to remember every little bump, each golden line curling around your tail like a halo, till he finally felt something else.

Something softer, slicker, hidden under a few flakes till you helped him feel the wet entrance of your pussy. His breath hitched, eyes crossed with your mischievous smile, as he sensed the slick coat his palm.

"Can you feel it?" you asked, but something in your voice changed. It became softer, more pleading, with a gentle frown appearing between your eyebrows. "Push them in, mhmm, just like that," guiding him softly, your nails dig into his forearm.

Two thick fingers slipped inside, and he immediately moaned, feeling the maddening tightness of your cunt. Gummy walls – not quite soft, but rather with slight bumps and swells – clamped down on his digits till thrusting them further was nearly impossible.

Choso had never been with a woman before and thus had no basis for comparison. Still, your warmth felt uniquely different from that of humans – slick, slimy, with bulges pressing into his fingers and holding them firmly. His two fingers were trapped in the soft, drenched embrace of your heated cunt, making his mind spin at the sheer thought of feeling you around his cock.

"My Goddess, you're s-so wet," he cried, curling another arm around your tail. His cheek nuzzled into the pink-scaled tail, and the silky fluke fluttered on his shoulder. "So tight, can you r-relax a little?"

When he tried to bend the finger, a sudden jolt of electricity dripped down your spine, and nails dug deeper into his muscular forearm. "I am relaxed, sailor boy. It–ngh–it can't get looser."

Choso was almost losing his mind. The warmth of your cunt burned through his fingers, soft bumps brushed his fingers as he pumped them in slow thrusts. With pads bumping into every swell of your gummy walls and honeyed slick dripping down the drenched sand. It stretched between his fingers, coating them in a weird, slimy softness, and, driven by sheer curiosity, he pulled them out.

Seeing the thought coiling in his mind, your eyes suddenly bulged. "No, wait, you can't–!"

But it was too late.

Two, drenched digits were pushed into his mouth, as he sucked on them with a low hum. His tongue licking them clean, a delicious groan escaped his tightened throat, as the syrupy sweetness exploded on his tongue. His mind started to spin, eyes rolled back, stomach squeezed in an almost painful pleasure and cock, if not hard enough, became almost stony. With head pulsing in feverish need as he brushed the fat shaft against the slick entrance of your cunt.

But something felt wrong… The heat that hit him was too strong, ripping him from the inside with a hungry flame that seemed to grow more resilient.

He looked down, seeing the pearly cum already bursting all over your soft, pulsing cunt, coating the lovely scales with waves and waves of thick semen. And yet, his cock was still rock-hard, throbbing with a raw need to breed your swelling cunt. With small folds puckered out, and a bumpy clit pulsing under the sticky droplets of his semen.

"W-What is g-going–"

"It's like an aphrodisiac," you cried, feeling his warm cum coating your needy pussy. "The slick, it's, mhmmm, you shouldn't eat it."

As the round head of his cock brushed your soaked hole, its muscles tried to draw it in. Your walls tightened around the throbbing tip, causing another surge of pleasure to ripple through Choso's spine and making him climax again with a sticky release.

"I can't, fuck, I-I can't stop cumming," a crying whimper rolled past his lips, as he nuzzled into your tale like a baby. "My Goddess, you tasted s-so, nghh, so delicious, fuck, so sweet. I don't regret drinking it, Idon'tIdon't–ah!"

Oh, what a lovely, whimpering mess he was. Although his massive cock ripped you raw, prising through the swells and bumps with a brutal intrusion, you still managed to giggle cheekily.

A massive arm firmly held your tail in place, while another hand moved down to your pussy. Fingers, a bit clumsy, found your sensitive clit, gently pressing and rolling the soft, pulsing button.

With eyes slightly half-closed and a mind clouded by pleasure, you stared at his face – completely miserable, crying, yet strikingly beautiful, with raven hair clinging to his open lips and a deep furrow across the milky skin of his forehead. His chestnut eyes remained fixed on yours, refusing to break eye contact, even as his hips moved desperately to meet yours. Messy words spilt from his loosened tongue as he kissed, licked, and bit the scales of your tail, making your thoughts whirl even faster.

"Don't, I'm–ahh–sensitive here!"

Deep eyes locked onto you, shimmering with a hint of mischief. "Oh, yeah? Where else are you sensitive, my Goddess?" he murmured, licking your tail again. "Tell me, I want to know every one of your sweet spots."

His thumb rubbed your clit, desperately trying to make your cunt loosen up just slightly. But it seemed that the swells and bumps coating your walls were already relaxed, forcing him to slide through the slick with a beastly thrust. Your cunt squished his cock till you felt every vein, every dripping pearl of his cum with a maddening accuracy.

Your arms spread open, waiting for him to bend over and bury his face in the plushness of your breasts. His fingers ripped the two shells covering your tits with a single tug, finally letting the swelled softness slip into his warm palm.

He leaned forward, folding your tail in half until the thin fluke brushed the sand over your head. "So soft," he whispered, squeezing your breasts with one hand. "My Goddess, you're so soft, e-everywhere," but before a moan could escape your lips, he captured them with his own, drinking in the sweet melody with a low groan. "Where is it? Where is your sweet spot?"

As no matter how hard he forcefully thrusted, how deep his cock slipped into your feverish cunt, it seemed that he still couldn't find this little button that would make you melt under his touch.

He pounded you like a madman, tearing through your clamping walls and sucking gently on your lips, as he felt each and every bump of your cunt. The filthy squelching sound bounced off the cave's wall, as the slimy cum dripped down the curve of your ass.

He mumbled, cried, whimpered miserably where is it where is it where is it, as his cock rummaged through your weeping pussy at a maddening pace, forcing your body to dig deeper into the soft sand. Your breast bounced with every thrust, eyes rolled back whenever he busted inside, filling your womb with heavy waves of cum.

As, dear heavens, he was cumming all the time – from the moment his cock slipped past your swollen folds, till the milky teeth sucked on your neck. The heat caused by your slick was constantly making him cum, till your lower belly bulged from the thickness of milky seed he stuffed you with. It flowed inside your belly, attracting his hazy attention.

His large palm pressed the lower, plump pouch of your belly, feeling the warm liquid spilling inside your puffy womb.

"It's, mhmmm, it's everywhere," you moaned into his lips, pulling him closer. Fingers digging into his hair, eyes glossy whenever the soft skin of his cock pushed your swollen bumps. "The things, ahhh, inside it's–" another cry filled his fallen lips, as the feverish head kissed your overflowing womb. "It's e-everywhere. The bumps–"

"Are your sweet spot?" Choso asked, feeling another wave of heat coiling in his loins. "You wish to tell me that all of them…"

"Yes, fuck, yesyesyes," your eyes crossed in pleasure, when his thumb pinched your clit. Rolling the little button between soft fingers, massaging it in small circles, only to tweak it with a little pain. "So good, mhmm feels s-so good."

And upon hearing it, something in Choso's mind snapped.

Again, again, again, and again, as he pumped his cock with sloppy thrusts. His warm cum filled your womb to the brim, coating his full length with sticky creaminess and spilling through your entrance. He plunged with brutal force, ripping through the swollen bumps that tried to lock him in place.

He pulled back from your neck, taking in the loveliness of your face, utterly lost in pleasure. Kissing warm cheeks, licking the chin, biting down on pointy ears till another moan ripped through your chest and cunt clamped on him tighter.

Tighter and tighter, until Choso somehow felt himself sealed. Your walls softened and expanded, embracing his pulsing shaft with an arousing, warm sensation.

"What's going on?" he brushed away the lost strands of hair stuck to your cheeks. "My Goddess, what–"

"We're, mhmm, mating," your head lulled to the side, and breathing suddenly became harder. He, on the other hand, froze. "You need to s-stay inside till I won't get p-pregnant."

But it was hard to imagine you weren't already with a child, with a lower belly bloated from the sheer amount of cum he filled you with. And when your cunt sealed him with a deathly grip, you finally came. Pulsing around his cock, drenching his hips with the slick sweetness, and bending your back in a delicious arc.

And Choso whimpered, feeling your warm cunt clamp down on him with short pulses, and pressing with his heavy hand on the bloated pouch filled with his semen. Till you cried right into his lips and allowed him to lick the sweat rushing down your temple. So beautiful, beautiful, my beautiful Goddess, bounced off your lips as he mumbled messily like a starving man. Rolling his hips with gentle thrusts, sending waves of pleasure down your spine.

You stayed locked for the next few minutes, and the moment Choso pulled out, his cum burst from your clamping walls. But he, oh, he didn't let it go to waste, quickly slipping beneath your tail and pushing the salty strings back with his tongue.

Drinking, slurping, sucking on your slick mixed with his, till the aphrodisiac once again hit his head. You tried to push him away, overwhelmed from the orgasm that ripped through you a mere seconds ago, but he was completely, utterly lost.

Sucking on your plump clit and stuffing you full with three fingers, only to keep the warm semen deep inside your womb.

He fucked you, caressed you and kissed every part of your body till the soft licks of sun started slipping shyly into the cave. Till your pinkish tail was coated in his cum and belly heavy, overflowing with the creamy warmth.

Sometimes he pounded your back on the sand; at other times, when your scales felt drier than usual, he put you back in the water, filling your tight cunt with calm waves slipping beneath your bodies.

He made promises, large and lovely, while biting and sucking sweetly on your nipples and coating the swell of your breasts with the wettest kisses. He fucked you madly and made love, as if cherishing the moment of intimacy meant only for the lovers.

And you, who initially intended to use him only for this purpose, began to breathe in every soft whisper. To nuzzle into his large, warm hands, kiss the skin on his neck, and look up at his handsome face with a gentle, tender gaze.

Thus, when morning arrived, and you both lay on the warm sand, turning toward each other, a quiet, shy voice said gently, "Allow me to go with you."

Your heart swelled, breath hitched in a tightened chest, seeing the pristine desperation beaming from his eyes. He sighed, feeling your fingers swirl the long, raven hair. "Do you know what you're asking for?"

He nodded, brushing the sweetness of your cheeks.

"You'll never be able to live above the water."

"I know," he added, eyes still kind and utterly hopeless. "I don't mind. As long as I can live with you."

And with a new, such strange feeling blooming in your heart, a soft okay, slipped past your lips.

There was a way to make him breathe underwater. Something sirens kept secret, never letting mortals know about such a deadly weapon.

"Drink my tears, then," you said, rolling him back onto your body. Till he hovered over you, with long, dark strands tickling your cheeks. "Make me cry, my sailor boy, and drink them."

Choso stared at your lovely face, taking in its divine beauty. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispered innocently, and you giggled.

Your hands curled behind his neck, drawing him into a soft, dear kiss. "You fool, there's no need to hurt me." A mischievous smile lifted your lips as you once again raised your tail and rested it on his shoulder. "I can think of a few different ways."

And Choso, as a madman, could only follow every wish of his beloved, siren Goddess.

Dearest anon, I hope your wish was fulfilled! And that everyone else also enjoyed it <3

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