The World Is Mine For The Taking

That was all it took to ignite me again. I couldn't hold back and started thrusting into her, pistoning her upward with every motion. Her petite frame quivered against me, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the way her stomach shifted, bulging slightly each time I plunged deep inside her. The sight was mesmerizing. Her tight pussy clung to me with every thrust, slick with her lewd juices that spilled out in messy streams, adding to the wet, obscene sounds of our union.

"Nnnn, mm, mmmhnnn, mm, mmmhnnn..."

Her muffled moans escaped between her lips, soft yet filled with pleasure. Her pussy was squeezing me tighter, her breathing growing heavier and more ragged as I continued moving inside her. The way she reacted, her body trembling and her moans growing more desperate, drove me closer to the edge.

While our tongues tangled in a heated kiss, I finally let go, my cock twitching violently as I erupted inside her.

"Mmmmnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh~!!!"

Her muffled cry filled the room as her pussy spasmed around me. My cum surged into her, warm and thick, filling her completely. At the same time, her own juices gushed out, dripping down her thighs and pooling on the floor beneath us. Her body trembled in the aftermath.

When I finally pulled out, more cum spilled from her pussy, sliding down her thighs and adding to the mess. She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling as her body swayed slightly. Then, without warning, she went limp, her eyes fluttering shut as she lost consciousness.

***

I decided to let her borrow my clothes. There was no way I could let her keep wearing the ones she had—dirty, disheveled, and clinging to her in a way that made her look pitiful. While they didn't smell, the thought of her getting sick from the grime irritated me. My clothes were obviously too big for her petite frame, but they'd have to do for now.

As I stood there, watching her sleep in my oversized clothes, I couldn't deny how good she looked. The loose fabric swallowed her figure, hanging off her shoulders and pooling around her slim frame, but it gave her an innocent charm that was hard to ignore. The sight of her like that stirred something primal inside me—an itch to claim her again, but differently.

The idea burned in my mind. Maybe next time she stayed in my room, begging for me to fuck her senseless, I'd make her wear one of my shirts while I rammed into her. Just picturing that made my cock twitch.

That thought sounded pretty damn nice.

Lost in those dirty thoughts, I snapped back to reality when I noticed the time. It was already late, and tomorrow was the second day of the Sword Festival.

***

The next day...

Titania, Trill, and I agreed to meet at the academy entrance. When I arrived, they were already there, dressed casually but still looking sharp. Titania had already been eliminated after her loss, but Trill's match wasn't until the fifth day. Mine was on the third. Today, we'd just watch and observe the competition.

It wasn't just idle curiosity—we needed to scope out the competition. Every fight mattered, especially as we edged closer to the Quarter Finals. Even though Titania's journey in the tournament had ended, she still wanted to be there.

"You're finally here," Titania said, her eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. "Didn't think you'd be the one running late."

I yawned, the exhaustion from last night still weighing on me. "Yeah, well, something came up, and I didn't get much sleep."

And by "something," I meant Yr. She'd spent the night in my bed, moving around like a goddamn hurricane. At one point, I woke up to her feet near my face. One of them even shoved into my mouth, and she kept kicking me in the cheek. It was a miracle I got any sleep at all.

Titania's brow lifted. "Does 'something' have anything to do with her?"

"Well, yeah..." I admitted, adjusting the weight on my back.

Yr was draped over me, fast asleep as I carried her piggyback. Her soft breaths tickled the back of my neck, and a line of drool dripped from the corner of her mouth onto my clothes. I sighed, trying not to think about how warm her body felt pressed against mine.

"Wait a second," Trill chimed in, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. "Isn't that our classmate, Leon? Don't tell me she's your woman too."

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"That's unexpected," Trill said, a teasing smirk forming. "I've never even seen the two of you talk in class."

"Well, she's always asleep," I replied with a shrug.

It wasn't like I'd never tried talking to her, but with how often she was passed out, there just wasn't much of an opportunity.

"Hm," Titania looked at Yr. Yr stirred awake at that. Maybe she felt Titania's eyes settled on her. "Hello." Titania smiled with her twitching.

"Hmph." Yr huffed, and then went back to sleep.

Titania stayed there with her smile frozen on her face, and her hand that had waved at her twitching.

"Hm." Titania's sharp gaze settled on Yr, who stirred slightly as if feeling the weight of those eyes. Her lids fluttered open briefly, her sleepy eyes half-lidded with disinterest.

"Hello," Titania said warmly, her lips curving into a polite smile.

"Hmph." Yr barely spared her a glance, her voice carrying a note of disdain before she closed her eyes again and burrowed back into sleep.

Titania's smile froze mid-expression, her outstretched hand hovering in the air before twitching slightly.

"Well, she's pretty standoffish," I remarked, suppressing a laugh at the scene. "But give her a little time. Yr's got a personality like a cat—independent, moody, but when she warms up to someone, she can be surprisingly affectionate."

"Yeah? Well, I guess that's fine." Titania's smile thawed into something more genuine. "She seems like a good girl, so I'm not gonna complain about her being one of your women too."

Her words came with an undertone of pride, her earlier awkwardness melting away. She wasn't upset that I had yet another woman in my life. In fact, she looked pleased. Titania had always said that a man's strength could be measured by the number of women devoted to him. She didn't just tolerate my growing harem—she welcomed it. She encouraged me to gather as many as I could. That said, her opinion on Princess Myrcella was another story. When it came to her, her approval hit a wall. I had no idea why that was the case though. It might be a matter of personal feelings.

Well, not something to dwell on now. I brushed the thought aside.

"Alright, let's head to the venue," I said, shifting Yr's weight on my back as we began walking.

***

The moment we arrived, the atmosphere hit like a wave—roaring voices, stamping feet, and the sheer energy of the crowd pulsing through the air. The arena was alive, a chaotic beast of noise and motion.

"So noisy..." Yr mumbled drowsily, barely audible over the deafening cheers. Despite the ruckus, she remained asleep, her soft, rhythmic breaths tickling the back of my neck. Her light body molded against me, her fingers curling instinctively against my shoulder.

The matches played out like clockwork, one after another. The sharp clang of steel on steel reverberated through the arena, accompanied by the occasional grunt of effort or cry of pain. Spectators roared in approval when blood spattered across the ground, though the injuries were never fatal.

Yet, as the hours dragged on, the novelty wore thin. The repetition dulled the excitement, each match blending into the next until it felt more like a chore than a spectacle.

That is, until the final match of the day.

The referee stood between the two competitors, his voice flat as he recited the same tired rules he'd been repeating all day. His words lacked energy, delivered in a bored, mechanical tone, as though even he had grown weary of the event. The participants barely acknowledged him.

With a lethargic motion, the referee raised his hand, then dropped it.

The match began.

The first to move was a hulking man with a broadsword nearly as wide as his torso. His rugged appearance screamed experience—scarred armor, calloused hands gripping the hilt with practiced confidence. He wielded the blade like an extension of his body, the weight of years spent fighting in every deliberate movement. While his technique lacked the polish of formal training, the sheer confidence in his movements made it clear he was no novice. His technique was rough, unrefined, but undeniably effective.

Opposite him stood a stark contrast. Thin and wiry, the second participant looked almost frail, his one-handed sword a mere sliver of steel compared to the broad, monstrous weapon of his opponent. He stood still, unflinching, his sharp eyes analyzing every twitch of his adversary's muscles.

"Raaaaaghhh!"

The big man charged with a guttural roar, the sheer force of his voice reverberating through the arena. His broadsword cut through the air in a powerful arc, the sound of its swing slicing through the crowd's noise like a whip.

But the thin man didn't panic. His body moved with fluid precision, sidestepping the attack in one smooth motion. The massive blade crashed into the ground where he'd stood, the impact sending tremors through the earth. Dust billowed up in a cloud, but he emerged unscathed, his movements nimble and calculated.
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Blocking wasn't an option. A direct clash would shatter his weapon like brittle glass. Instead, he relied on speed and agility, dancing just out of reach as the broadsword carved through the air in relentless, sweeping arcs.

"This matchup is completely unfair," Titania commented, her voice tinged with disdain. "That big guy has every advantage—raw strength, size, and years of battle experience. The thin one looks like he's barely managing to keep up."

I said nothing, my eyes locked on the thin man.